And she was cold, freezing in fact. They hadn’t even given her the courtesy of putting her coat back on her, and all she had on was a tunic top, a fairly thin one at that, and a pair of leggings and ankle boots. They wouldn’t be enough to protect her when the temperature dropped even further during the night. She closed her eyes and thought about all the things that she would miss – her cats, her work, Joe Burton.
She also regretted not making things up with her mother and sister. It seemed to her that she would not have the chance to now. Then there was the card she was looking at right beside her mobile phone – the queen of hearts, exactly the same as the ones found by the dead bodies of her old school friends.
Joe Burton was frantic, and that sense of desperation was spilling over to his team. He had called DCI Ambleton to tell her the news and she had dropped everything and set off for the station immediately after his call to her had ended.
‘What can we do?’ Burton paced the floor in his own office while the DCI was sitting on the sofa in the corner. ‘Her phone is turned off so we can’t track it, I don’t know what else we can do to find her.’
Ambleton could see the look of frustration and despondency on his face for his second-in-command, who was not merely another police officer to him. Sally Fielding had had his back on so many occasions, and likewise he’d had hers. They were the best team pairing she had known since she herself had partnered with Burton back in the day. But it wasn’t just professional courtesy that was driving him on, for she knew that he held quite strong feelings for his colleague, even though he would never let on the fact that he did. He felt that a workplace just wasn’t the place for any romantic entanglement, despite what he might feel beneath the detached exterior he constantly maintained. The truth was, he was more than fond of her, and in any other circumstances, would have made a move on her long before now. But in a job like theirs, there was no place for distractions… of any kind.
‘There’s absolutely no way of tracking a phone that’s off, is there?’ DCI Ambleton came up with the suggestion, but knew in her heart that she was clutching at straws. She knew for a fact that a phone had to be turned on in order to track it, but with today’s technology, surely there must be a way to find her? ‘There must be something on her that we can track. Can we not get our tech guys on this, Burton?’
Burton had sat down at his desk and had his head in his hands. ‘No, there’s nothing, absolutely nothing. The only tech thing I know that she has, apart from her phone, is her activity watch. But we don’t even know if she would be wearing that tonight.’
DCI Ambleton had a thought. ‘Has she been wearing it regularly recently?’
Burton had to think about it, and remembered what she’d said about going out for a jog on the Sunday morning, how she’d decided to wear it every day now. ‘I think she had started to,’ he told her.
‘Do you know if those watches have GPS on them?’
Burton gave that a thought, then something occurred to him. ‘Oh, boss, you’re brilliant,’ he said, jumping to his feet. ‘I’m not enough of a computer tech expert to know that, but I know somebody downstairs in the cells who is.’
‘Yes, it’s possible,’ Alex Carruthers said when he was sitting in an interview room with both Burton and Ambleton. ‘As long as it’s being worn, that is, and the battery is still viable.’
Burton looked at his boss. ‘So we’ve only really got until the battery runs out, and we don’t know how long’s left on it.’ That was something that they hadn’t considered, the length of time left before Fielding’s watch would run out of charge and turn itself off for good. And if they hadn’t found her by then, well that would be it. They’d never be able to find her and they’d be too late. She’d be gone.
‘We don’t even know if she’s wearing it, Joe.’ Ambleton hated to say it but felt that she had to.
‘We must assume that she is.’
‘But what if she’s not,’ she had started to say to him.
Burton felt his heart pounding against his ribs. He felt as if he was going to have a coronary; he was getting that worked up. ‘We have to, because that’s all the hope that we have.’ He was practically shouting at her. His face felt hot and he could sense beads of sweat on his forehead.
Ambleton, concerned for his welfare, looked at Carruthers and said, ‘Just how do we do this then?’
‘I’ll need access to a computer,’ he said, ‘and the information about her watch. Does this now mean that I am off the hook?’ Carruthers added after a slight pause.
Burton had already sprinted out of the door, leaving his boss to answer the question for him.
‘Yes, it does,’ she told him.
29
Burton and Fielding had agreed a very long time ago that each should have a key to the other’s homes in case of a situation like this.
The cats made a beeline for him when he came in. He didn’t feel he had the time to stop and pet them, but he knew what they meant to her, so he quickly bent down to stroke them before starting his search for the activity watch box. Carruthers had told them that in order to do a sweep to find her, he would need to have the serial number of the device and the exact make and model.
Burton was now getting heart palpitations. He knew that he should try to slow down a little bit, but time was running out and he needed to find this as soon as he possibly could. Where would she put it, where? He looked everywhere: in the sideboard drawers in the living room, in the chest of drawers in the bedroom, he even looked in the vanity unit under the sink in the bathroom, but nothing.
Not one to ever get emotional to the point where he would find himself welling up with tears, he was now on the brink of breaking down and sobbing his heart out. It was then that he found it, hiding in plain sight – well almost – on the floor beneath the dining table right next to the cats’ beds. They must have been playing with it in her absence. Quickly checking that the box had all the information that he needed, he took his phone out of his pocket, took a photo of it then messaged it on to Ambleton, hands trembling as he did so.
Back at the station, Ambleton was still sitting in his office with Carruthers seated at his desk in front of his computer. This was not the picture he could have imagined a few hours ago when the man was down in the cells and about to be charged for the murder of at least three, and probably five, people.
Instead, here he was now, about to find Sally.
While Carruthers got to work, Burton felt like the whole world was collapsing around him. He could hardly get his breath he was that worked up. Carruthers had been working for less than fifteen minutes and it was already fifteen minutes too long for him. Burton needed to find her now… right now.
‘Burton, why don’t you go grab yourself a coffee,’ DCI Ambleton suggested, seeing the state he was getting himself into. ‘I’m sure Mr Carruthers here is going as quickly as he can.’
Even though the idea of drinking greyish-beige station coffee was the last thing on his mind, he decided to grab a small one and get some fresh air as well at the same time. The canteen had a small balcony where people went out to grab a quick smoke or vape, and although he was the only one out there at this time of night, he could still smell the cigarette butts reeking in the waste bins. Burton was glad that he’d never succumbed to the habit, although there had been many occasions when he could have willingly lit up to take the edge off things. This was one of them.
He took a sip of the coffee. It was as disgusting as he’d expected, but he still drank it anyway, swallowing it down with the reluctance of a child being force-fed a meal. He completely lost track of the time as he watched the evening traffic flow by in the streets below him. The city was starting to get busy again. Gone was the five o’clock rush hour, to be replaced by the evening one, where people were going out for the evening to clubs, cinemas, theatres or restaurants. Going out to meet their friends and loved ones, to enjoy themselves and be happy – all except him. He was just standing there watching them, observ
ing the scene play out around him, and feeling completely lost and unable to do anything about it. Then his phone rang in his pocket. He looked at the screen: Ambleton.
‘You’d better get back here quickly.’ Her voice was hurried and hoarse, as if she’d already been screaming orders around the incident room. He didn’t hesitate.
Alex Carruthers had to confess that tracking a person’s location by the GPS on their activity watch was in its infancy stage. However, he had managed to do it. He had traced the watch to Foxfield Road Allotments.
‘Isn’t that where the body of Jacob Stephenson was found?’ Wayman said.
‘Get a car out front… now,’ Burton screamed to nobody in particular, and Summers flew out of the room as quickly as he could.
DCI Ambleton took Burton’s arm. ‘You know, Joe,’ she said in almost a whisper, ‘I hate to say this, but it might just be the watch there, and not Fielding. This could just be a red herring and she might not even be there.’
‘I know that,’ he said, almost hysterical now, and Ambleton could see a tear running down his cheek, ‘but we’ve got to try, haven’t we? It’s all we have to go on.’
‘I know,’ she said, letting go of him. ‘You’d better hurry then. I’ll stay with here with Carruthers while you’re gone.’ And with that he was out of the door, hot on Summers’s tail and grabbing Wayman by the arm as he passed him.
‘Let’s hope she’s there,’ Carruthers said to her, looking at the location still flashing on the computer screen in front of him.
‘Yes, let’s,’ was all she could manage to say.
Burton was counting the seconds, never mind the minutes, as the car weaved in and out of the traffic, lights flashing and sirens going, and it wasn’t going fast enough for him.
‘Put your foot down, man,’ he shouted at the driver, a uniformed police officer who looked nervously at his superior and squirmed uncomfortably in his seat, not knowing quite how to answer his request when he knew it wasn’t safe to do what he was being asked.
‘I’m going as fast as I safely can, sir,’ he apologised, fearful that he was heading for some official reprimand if he didn’t put his foot down and speed up like his superior officer had demanded.
‘Boss,’ Summers jumped in to try and defuse the situation, which showed all the signs of escalating. He put a hand on Burton’s arm. ‘He’s doing his best, and we’re almost there.’
The car made a quick swerve right then left and Burton recognised the road that led to the lane alongside the allotments. The car had barely stopped when he flung the door open and began to run along to where he knew Jacob Stephenson’s plot was. Wayman and Summers started off behind him, but Burton’s adrenalin was already geared up to an all-time high and he was already some distance ahead of them on the lane.
The shed was in darkness when Burton reached it and no light or sounds were coming from it or from anywhere nearby. There was a heavy-duty padlock on the door and he desperately looked around for something to prise it open with.
‘Help me find something,’ he shouted to the other two detectives, who produced their torches and scanned the beam around the surroundings. There was nothing to be found anywhere.
‘Run back to the car, one of you, and see what’s in the boot that can get this thing off.’ Summers started off back down the lane, returning a few minutes later with a tyre wrench and a set of screwdrivers. ‘That’s all there is,’ he began, but Burton grabbed the wrench away from him and began to whack the padlock with it. As it was having no effect, Wayman stepped in and started to undo the screws on the hasp with an unsteady hand. He was shaking like a leaf, fully aware of the urgency of the situation. It eventually fell off and landed on the ground and Burton threw his entire body weight against the door and fell into the shed, landing beside Fielding’s motionless body.
30
It was all over the newspapers the next day: Body found in allotment shed in Manchester named as Detective Sergeant Alice S. Fielding.
Claire Rawlins was sitting having breakfast in her kitchen diner back up in Whitley Bay when she heard her boyfriend put his key in the front door.
‘Where are you?’ he shouted as he came in waving a newspaper. He slapped it down on the table in front of her. ‘Look at this!’ he said proudly, pointing to the headline and accompanying photograph of the woman he had hated for over thirteen years.
‘You’ve done it,’ she told him, looking at the picture of her one-time friend. The photograph the police force had provided the press with was one of her in full uniform. It looked like it had been taken at an award ceremony of some kind.
‘No. We’ve done it,’ he corrected her, bending over and kissing the top of her head. ‘And it feels good, doesn’t it?’
She really didn’t know what to say to him. After all this time, after all the planning and scheming they’d done, it suddenly felt flat somehow, as if there should have been fireworks and champagne and celebrations. But in truth, there was nothing. Claire felt unrewarded somehow.
‘Hey, honey, what’s wrong?’ Pratchett asked, sensing that she was nowhere near as happy as he was at that moment. ‘We knew that it wasn’t going to be easy, didn’t we? But the crimes we’ve committed to get here have been far more gruesome than giving somebody a fatal overdose.’
She smiled at him. ‘It’s just…’ but she was interrupted by the sound of the doorbell.
‘Are you expecting somebody?’ he asked her.
‘No,’ she said, getting up from her chair. ‘I didn’t tell anybody that I was coming back yet.’
As she went to find out who it was, Pratchett poured himself a cup of coffee from the machine on the kitchen worktop. Despite his girlfriend’s reaction to the news, he was feeling on top of the world, never better. His twin brother would be so proud of him right now. Yes, he’d done him proud; done both of them proud. He sat down at the table and looked at the newspaper headlines again, taking the reality of it all in. He had just downed his second mouthful of coffee when he thought he saw movement in the hedge at the bottom of the garden. He got up and walked over to the patio doors and looked out, but whatever it was had long gone by the time he got there. Probably just a cat walking on the fence, he thought to himself, but as he kept looking, he saw in the window the reflection of the door from the living room opening. Thinking it was Claire coming back from seeing who was at the front door, he turned around, and at that moment the door burst open and Detective Inspector Burton and a team of armed police officers came tearing in.
‘Police! Down on the floor! Hands behind your head!’ several voices all shouted out to him at once, and without hesitation, Rob Pratchett threw himself on the floor and did as he was told, clasping both of his hands behind him at the back of his neck.
‘Robert Pratchett,’ Burton began while the other officers were putting handcuffs on him, ‘I’m arresting you for the murders of Jennifer Grayson, Caroline Porter, Nathaniel Jackson, Jacob Stephenson and Dorothy Johnson. You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence.’
Pratchett was then hauled up onto his feet and taken into the living room where Claire Rawlins was already seated on the sofa with an officer on either side of her. She was red-eyed and had already been handcuffed. She looked up at him as he entered with an expression of sheer desperation. But Burton had one last thing to say to both of them before they were taken off to the nearest police station. ‘And,’ he said, staring at Pratchett and then Rawlins with firm, unyielding eyes, ‘for the attempted murder of Detective Sergeant Sally Fielding.’
Pratchett’s face went the colour of washed-out clay.
Detective Sergeant Sally Fielding finally gained consciousness and began to stir. As she opened her eyes, they took the full blast of the sun which was pouring in through the gap in the blinds on the huge picture window directly across from her. She squinted and shielded her face against the
brightness, and as her hand went up to her eyes, she also took a collection of wires and electrodes attached to her finger with it. The machine behind her started to beep urgently. She could see that she was in a hospital; not in a ward but in a room on her own. Her head felt fuzzy and heavy, and she had a crashing headache. She tried hard to remember what had happened that had brought her to this place but her mind and thoughts were all jumbled up and she couldn’t think clearly.
‘Ah, you’re awake,’ a nurse appeared by her side as if from nowhere and smiled at her, reattaching her electrodes and silencing the machine’s beeping. ‘There are a lot of people who will be thrilled that you’re finally back with us. Now, just take it easy and I’ll get you something to drink. Do you feel up to trying a little bit of food as well?’
Fielding felt pains in her stomach at the mention of food. She had no idea how long it had been since she had last eaten, so she said that she would try.
With an, ‘Okay, I’ll see what I can do,’ the nurse breezed out of the room as quickly as she had appeared. Fielding could hear her stop and talk to somebody directly outside of her room, then the sound of her feet moving further away along the corridor. It was some time later, when she was sitting with a sandwich and a glass of water on the tray table, that the door reopened and in came Burton with a huge smile across his face.
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