THEIR LOST DAUGHTERS a gripping crime thriller with a huge twist

by Joy Ellis

  ‘Perhaps you’d like to come with us, sir.’

  Without waiting for an answer, they bundled him backwards through the door and into the back room. ‘James Cade, I’m arresting you—’

  ‘Like hell you are!’ Cade swung around like a man possessed, and flung Rosie backwards into the wall. The air rushed from her lungs and she doubled over in pain.

  ‘Max! Don’t let him get away,’ she breathed, clasping her ribs. Max hesitated, staring at her with a horrified look on his face. ‘Leave me, you idiot! I’m just winded. Nail that bastard!’

  * * *

  It was a scene of utter chaos. Blue lights flashed. Men and kids were running in all directions, and the squeal of tyres and engines joined in with the techno music that still throbbed in the old silo. Cade ran out and across the concrete back yard towards his hidden car. Max raced after him. He was fitter and faster, but he didn’t have Cade’s desperation.

  Suddenly Cade stopped, picked up a length of wooden fence post from a pile of rubbish, and swung it straight into Max’s midriff.

  Max went down like a wounded animal, and Cade ran on, straight into the path of Sergeant Marie Evans.

  Marie charged at him, taking him clear off his feet in a perfect rugby tackle.

  Cade hit the deck. He scrabbled desperately to get free of Marie’s weight. Marie moved back slightly, just enough to allow him to make another attempt to run. Then she hit him.

  She felt the impact all the way from her knuckles to her shoulder, and she was glad of it. She rubbed her clenched fist and stared down at the unconscious figure. ‘It’s not much, Val,’ she muttered, as she took her cuffs from her pocket. ‘But I hope it makes you feel better. It certainly makes me feel good.’

  As she leant over Cade and snapped the cuffs into place, she felt the dark cloud finally lift. Until now she had believed that Cade would never pay for the terrible things he’d done while wearing a police officer’s badge. Marie stared coldly down at him. ‘Let’s see you try to wriggle out of this one, Chief Superintendent.’

  Gary was at her side. ‘I hope you’re right, Sarge, but I’ll only believe it when I see a new name on his office door.’

  Still out of breath, Rosie approached, supporting the winded Max. ‘Where the hell did you learn to hit like that?’

  ‘Anger Management Classes, would you believe. Works a treat!’ Marie looked at her colleagues. ‘And well done to you two! Great job.’

  Max grimaced. ‘Our pleasure! I reckon it was worth a couple of cracked ribs just to see that haymaker, Sarge.’ He grinned admiringly at Marie. ‘Just remind me never to upset you!’

  ‘I’ll second that!’ Jackman stood looking at her in amazement. ‘They don’t call you Super Mario for nothing, do they?’

  ‘I had something of an incentive.’

  ‘Let’s clear up this mess and go home, shall we? And maybe you can tell me what that particular incentive was?’

  Marie smiled at him. ‘I can now.’

  * * *

  Marie sat opposite Jackman in his office, a half-bottle of Scotch and two glasses between them.

  ‘I never drink on duty, but in Cade’s case I am making an exception.’ Jackman poured the whisky.

  He sat back and savoured the first sip, then let out a long sigh of relief. ‘Talk to me, Marie. You told me that Cade blighted your friend’s career, but what did he actually do?’

  Marie held onto her glass and stared into it. ‘He pestered her, harassed her, belittled her, ruined every chance that came her way and finally broke her spirit. All because she rejected his vile advances.’ She took a long swallow and winced as the alcohol touched her split lip. ‘Valerie was one of the brightest recruits, full of optimism and hope that she could make a difference. She was intelligent and good-looking, but Cade wore her down. Like a lot of coppers, she would go home and have a drink after a shift, sometimes two or three. And it gradually took hold of her. Everything started to go wrong, and she knew she couldn’t hack the job anymore. In the end she threw in the towel and moved away.’

  ‘Marie, I’m so sorry. I had no idea it was that bad.’

  ‘She was my dearest friend. She was to have been my bridesmaid. She got on like a house on fire with Bill, and she was so happy for me when Bill and I got engaged. I missed her then, and I still miss her.’

  ‘Couldn’t you get in touch with her? Go visit her, maybe?’

  She shook her head slowly. ‘It’s too late, Jackman. She got drunk one night. Several witnesses saw her stagger out into the road. Ironically, she was hit by a police traffic car on its way to an RTC. She died before she got to hospital.’ A tear formed in Marie’s eye. ‘And although Cade didn’t physically kill her, he caused her death as surely as if he had wrapped his fingers around her throat and squeezed.’

  ‘Oh Lord! That’s terrible! No wonder you hit the bastard so hard.’

  Marie stared at her bruised knuckles. ‘Most satisfying thing I’ve ever done.’

  ‘I’m sure the memory of it will live with him for years to come.’

  ‘Oh, I do hope so.’

  Clive put his head around the door. ‘DI Jackman, I’m sorry to interrupt, but the super wanted you to know that she needs to hold a press conference. She wondered if you would go and prepare Grace Black before this hits the media.’

  Jackman stretched and groaned. ‘Oh dear! Yes, of course, I will.’

  ‘I’ll go with you,’ said Marie. ‘I just wish we had something to tell the poor woman, but the bodies have all been named now, and there was no Kenya amongst them.’

  ‘At least we can tell her that we will now be concentrating on her girl’s case.’ He picked up the phone. ‘I’ll give her a ring and tell her we are on our way.’

  When she picked up, Jackman asked if it was convenient to call on her.

  ‘You’re a bit late, Inspector. I already know there have been what I believe you call significant finds.’ She gave a tired laugh. ‘I still have my sources.’

  ‘I’m sorry that is the case. We didn’t want you to hear it from others first, Mrs Black.’

  ‘I also realise that whatever you have found, it does not involve my Kenya, or you would have been knocking on my door long before this.’

  ‘That is true, Mrs Black, but Kenya will now be our number one priority.’

  ‘Then you call on me when your investigation gets under way. I’m fully prepared for whatever the papers and the television are about to throw at us.’

  ‘I wish I was,’ said Jackman sombrely. ‘I’d avoid watching the news for a while if I was you.’

  ‘If they were talking about my child it would be different. As it is, I still have hope.’

  Jackman thanked her and rang off. ‘I think the poor woman is desensitised after so long.’

  Before Marie could answer, Gary knocked on the door and walked in, closely followed by Ted Watchman.’

  ‘Good Lord, are you still with us? With everything that you have witnessed recently, I thought you would have high-tailed it back to your university long before this.’

  Ted brushed a lock of hair off of his face. ‘You can’t get rid of me that easily, especially not when there is a mystery still to solve. I’ve been going over the maps and the underground surveys of Windrush, and I’m worried that we have missed something.’

  Jackman glanced at Marie. ‘I’m not sure if I can take too many more surprises.’ He looked back at Ted. ‘I’m not going to like what you are about to say, am I?’

  Ted shrugged. ‘Probably not, but I’m going to tell you anyway.’

  Jackman felt exhaustion creep over him. ‘Okay, tell us the worst.’

  ‘It’s the gatehouse lodge, at the entrance to Windrush.’

  Marie tilted her head to one side. ‘But that was checked and double-checked by uniform in the initial search for Micah. All it contains is a bit of old furniture left from previous tenants, and little else. There is no cellar, and apparently the attic has several decades’ worth of rubbish in it, but
no signs of entry for years, going by the undisturbed dust and cobwebs.’

  ‘Sorry, Sergeant Evans, but I beg to differ. My geophys reports distinctly showed something below that building. I did mention it, although I thought it was a simple cellar. I thought it would have been checked as a matter of course in the police search.’

  ‘It was. I spoke to the officers myself.’ Marie looked puzzled.

  ‘Can we check it out ourselves?’ asked Ted. ‘Only, careful examination of the survey shows what appears to be a short tunnel terminating there. I could be wrong, but I think it was a spur from the tunnel that the old-time wreckers used.’

  Jackman exhaled. ‘It is almost one in the morning. We can’t do anything until tomorrow. But if you think we need to look at this place, Ted, then we’ll be guided by you. But until then, everyone home, and for heaven’s sake try to get some sleep.’

  As they slowly packed up their things and left, Jackman decided that sleep would probably be quite hard to come by. He, for one, was still fired with adrenalin.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  ‘I wish we still had that heat-seeking camera,’ muttered Max.

  ‘Bit too pricey to have hanging around, I’m afraid,’ Gary said. ‘We’ll just have to use our eyeballs.’

  Officers were slipping silently through the trees and bushes, and taking up their positions around the gatehouse. Jackman had decided that if they were to find more nasty surprises, this time they would be well-equipped to deal with them.

  He spoke quietly to Ruth Crooke, who had insisted on joining them to direct the operation. ‘Ted Watchman has isolated another underground area. It’s much smaller, but considering the terrible things that have been going on here, there is a good chance there may be more bodies.’

  ‘How is it accessed?’ she asked.

  ‘From a tunnel that joins the original marsh tunnel. An armed response vehicle arrived a short while ago, and a small tactical firearms unit is already in place at the entrance, just in case.’

  The uniformed sergeant in charge walked up to them and addressed the superintendent. ‘We are confident that the rest of Windrush is now clear, ma’am. As far as we can tell there are no more accessible concealed places, either above or below ground. The Lodge had been searched, but we think that the entrance to the cellar must have been very cleverly hidden.’

  ‘There have been officers in and out of that gatehouse for days now. Do you really think we missed something?’

  Jackman looked at her. ‘Ted is certain, and that is good enough for me. The lad knows his stuff.’

  ‘After finding what you did in the Children’s Ward . . .’ The superintendent swallowed. ‘Well, we know that the killer is dead and we have two more of the Mulberry family safely locked up, but there is no knowing what might be down there, is there? Take care, won’t you?’

  ‘I will be careful, I have two armed officers, and I’ll make sure that my team are safe.’

  ‘Good luck, Rowan.’

  ‘We’re all ready, ma’am. Everything is in place, not even a starving cat could slide out of that place without us seeing it. We are just waiting for your orders to go in, ma’am.’

  ‘Then get to it, Inspector.’

  * * *

  Jackman went in first with Marie, Max, and Charlie. They moved around the ground floor as quietly as they possibly could. Their objective was simply to identify the position of the entrance to the cellar. They would not attempt to open it, and there would be no crashing and banging about. The most effective tool they had was their eyes. This time they had the advantage of knowing that there was a cellar. They just needed to spot the anomaly that would give the secret door away.

  When they finally located it, Jackman at once forgave the first search team for their oversight.

  It was in the hallway, a dingy and badly-lit vestibule that reeked of age and neglect. Two walls were panelled in dark wood, and the rest had a thick, badly dented dado rail, with wood panels below and damp-stained wallpaper above. There were coat hooks on one of the full panels, and a tarnished gilt-framed mirror on the other.

  Much to everyone’s surprise, it was Charlie Button who found it.

  They were on their second recce of the place, when Charlie stopped by one of the tall panels looking puzzled. Then he lightly touched the panel with the coat hooks attached, and turned to Jackman, excitement sparkling in his pale eyes. ‘Different texture wood and it’s fractionally proud of the wall level, sir. I think it’s on a pressure spring. Push it firmly and it will spring outwards and slide along.’

  His voice was low and Jackman could barely hear him, but when he touched the wall himself he understood exactly what Charlie meant.

  Jackman signalled to the others and they melted back through the open front door and into the overgrown garden.

  While Charlie explained the precise position of the secret entrance to the sergeant and discussed how best to execute a successful entry, Jackman wondered what might lie beneath their feet.

  He remembered the gruesome items that had been found in the burnt-out caravan. Wrist and leg restraints, leather masks . . . He stopped himself.

  In a minute or two he would have to be one of the first down into that cellar, and he needed to be ready to cope with absolutely anything. He took some deep breaths, drew himself up and took a step forward.

  * * *

  The operation was smooth, understated, and very effective.

  The door opened onto a narrow staircase. It went straight down, parallel to the hall and ended in a small basement with a low ceiling. They saw rickety shelves with rusted paint cans, mouldering sacks and cardboard boxes eaten away by mildew and the teeth of small rodents. The floor was littered with rubbish, and the smell of decay was overpowering.

  On the far wall was another door. It looked ordinary enough, with chipped paintwork and a single lock.

  ‘Take it down.’

  Once again the metal enforcer was swung slowly back and forth, and the two armed officers waited to move forward.

  And then they were through, and they all halted abruptly.

  The room was clean. Spotlessly so. Curtains with a pretty floral pattern hung from a white curtain rod, in front of a trompe l’oeil window. There was a bed with a chintzy tapestry throw over it, and a small writing desk, littered with pens, pencils and paper. Shelves full of books lined one wall, a collection of teddy bears sat on top of a white-painted tallboy, and a stack of colourful jigsaw puzzles stood in one corner.

  Over the bed there was a picture of tiger cubs at play. A wooden frame, with a string of pink fairy lights hung from it, forming a bright arch of twinkling ruby lanterns above the pink, padded bed-head.

  It was the last thing Jackman had expected.

  As he moved slowly around, trying to make sense of it, Marie touched his shoulder and nodded silently towards the far side of the room.

  A narrow door, in concertina folds, was moving, very slightly.

  The two AFO’s, bulked out with body-armour and carrying automatic weapons, moved fast.

  For a long moment neither Jackman nor Marie dared to breathe, and then they heard a young voice call out, ‘Don’t hurt me! Please don’t hurt me.’

  The firearms officers closed in and one of them ripped back the door.

  They saw a bathroom, neat and compact, with a proper toilet, and an old short bath with a modern shower unit over it. Huddled almost underneath the bath itself, was a young girl. She sat on the pink bath-mat hugging her knees, and looked up at them from eyes wide with terror.

  Jackman found it hard to stop himself from rushing forward and gathering the child up in his arms.

  Marie asked the question for him. ‘Kenya?’

  ‘Asher! I want Asher.’ The shaky voice was growing stronger. ‘Please! Find me Asher! I want Asher!’

  * * *

  There were procedures to follow, and they were very strict. Jackman knew that he could not just remove the girl from her “home.” The regulations dictate
d that he immediately request a specially trained child victim support unit to assess the situation.

  He thought of all this, but what really worried him was why the child was calling for Asher Leyton.

  ‘Door at the back of the linen cupboard, sir! It’s still open. It leads to the tunnel! We can hear noises and we’re in pursuit.’

  The two officers crashed through the small aperture and disappeared. The girl began to scream, ‘Asher! Don’t hurt him! Please don’t hurt him!’

  Marie dropped to her knees a few paces from the hysterical girl. ‘It’s alright. Honestly, it’s alright. We just need to talk to him. We won’t hurt him.’ She took out her warrant card and held it up for the girl to see. ‘You understand that we are the police, don’t you? We are here to help you, that’s all. My name’s Marie, and this is Jackman — and you are Kenya Black, aren’t you?’ She smiled warmly at the child. ‘I cannot tell you how pleased we are to meet you.’

  The girl rocked backwards and forward, avoiding eye contact, but Jackman saw her nod, very slightly.

  Jackman couldn’t believe it. She was alive! Kenya Black was alive! After how many years? Eight? Almost a decade, and she was alive and safe.

  Jackman stared at her, dumbfounded. She was slim and pretty, dressed in skinny jeans and a T-shirt, and apparently unharmed.

  Then his elation faded. He thought of the Mulberry children.

  He stared at Kenya, cowering on the floor and rocking backwards and forward. He knew he was out of his depth. It was time to get help.

  * * *

  Jackman ran back up to the stairs and into the hallway, shouting for a WPC to go down and assist Marie.

  His superintendent stood open-mouthed. Jackman knew she was as stupefied as he by what they had found in that strange little boudoir below ground.

  ‘And you say she looks to be in good physical health?’ asked the super for the second time.

  ‘As I said, skinny and pale, but I’ve seen far worse going through Saltern’s school gates. God knows what state her mind is in, but physically I’d say she’s been looked after very well.’