Silent Suspect: A completely gripping crime thriller with edge-of-your-seat suspense (Detective Jessica Daniel thriller series Book 13)

by Kerry Wilkinson

  ‘No.’ Bex glared at Jessica fiercely. ‘You don’t know Vince. He’ll actually do it. He’s not just saying he’ll kill those people, he will. He told me he’d come after you and look what he did.’

  ‘We should call the police, Bex. They’re experts. They’ll know what to do.’

  ‘That means you’re an expert, that you know what to do.’

  Jessica had only ever seen Bex speak so determinedly once before – and that was on the very first night they’d met, when she was still living rough.

  ‘I wish I did, but I don’t even know where they are in the barn – if they’re there at all,’ Jessica said. ‘There are these hay bales in the corner. I suppose there could be a hidden space behind. They could be locked up there but it didn’t seem that big.’ She cradled her head in her hands. ‘I can’t think,’ she said.

  ‘Jess…’

  She looked up. ‘What?’

  ‘It’s the first of the month today, isn’t it?’

  ‘I think so. Why?’

  ‘Because that means tonight’s the auction night.’

  Forty

  Jessica could tell by the tyre tracks on the lane leading to the Waverly farm that something was different. When she had been there the previous night, the lane was largely clear, except for a coating of dust, and solo tyre tracks. Less than twenty-four hours later and the same spot was covered with muddy thick marks from where a cavalcade of vehicles had headed along the darkened track.

  Together with Fran, Jessica kept tight to the hedgerow, away from any potential headlights. As soon as they could, they pushed through the greenery, emerging onto an overgrown area close to the lawn at the rear of the farmhouse. The whole of the area at the back was filled with darkness, but there was a yellowy glow seeping from the front and a low rumble of voices. Not just Vince, Max, Greg and Peter – but many more people.

  Bex hadn’t witnessed the auctions themselves, but she’d seen the vehicles and heard the basics from Max. After all her resistance to going to the police, Jessica had been insistent that it was the best thing to do with the laptop. The problem was that Bex knew Vince far better than she did. If he said he was going to burn down the barn with his slaves inside, if there was any possibility that the building was rigged with explosives to do just that, then could Jessica really risk that happening?

  She knew that she couldn’t.

  None of that helped her current predicament, however. She didn’t know exactly where the slaves were, let alone how to get them to safety. All she’d been able to tell both Fran and Bex was that she’d not actually been inside the barn, only getting a peek through the window.

  Jessica and Fran remained close to the hedge as they edged towards the farmhouse. The yard was taken up by a dozen or so vehicles. There were cars and vans, a couple of 4x4s and a flat-bed American-style truck. As they neared the area close to the gate, there was the scratching of tyre on gravel and then a people carrier accelerated through, stopping next to one of the vans. Two men got out, not bothering to lock it as they headed directly to the barn.

  When Jessica had been hiding in the attic the previous night, Vince had told Max not to forget about what was on the next day. This was clearly what he meant. As Bex had told them – the first of the month meant auction night.

  ‘Do you know the layout?’ Fran whispered.

  ‘Not really.’

  ‘Bex would’ve been useful.’

  ‘She doesn’t know the barn either and there’s no way I’d have let her come back here.’

  ‘What do you want to do?’

  ‘There’s a broken window on the other side of the barn that’s close to the hedge. If we can get round there, we can at least hear what’s going on.’

  ‘After you.’

  There was no point in risking being seen by heading across the yard, so Jessica continued following the hedge until she was a fair way past the barn, away from the lights. She dashed across the mushy mix of mud, grass and grit until she was out of breath but close to the parallel hedge that signalled the other boundary. Fran wasn’t far behind, wearing far more appropriate clothes than Jessica had. She had boots and waterproof trousers. Jessica was in trainers and the same jeans she’d had on for two days. The bottoms were drenched and heavy with mud and, because they weren’t hers to begin with, the fit was becoming increasingly uncomfortable.

  She pulled them up and then started back in the direction from which she’d come until they were close to the barn. The assorted bushes and trees were as tightly packed as when she’d first visited and a flailing branch narrowly avoided smacking Fran in the face as Jessica pushed through. The narrow finger of wood bent back as Jessica shunted it to the side and then whipped viciously past her.

  ‘Whoa,’ Fran gasped instinctively as she stepped backwards.

  The branch fizzed through the air and pinged back into place as Jessica and Fran froze, wondering if they’d been heard. If they had, then the low chatter from inside the barn was uninterrupted and, a few seconds later, Jessica continued edging along the barn’s length. It didn’t take long until she was close to the window, through which the errant branch was still growing. Jessica sat on the mix of mud, leaves and grass and shuffled until she was sitting directly underneath, Fran at her side.

  ‘My arse is wet,’ Fran whispered.

  ‘Mine too – and there’s a bloody rock digging into me.’

  Jessica didn’t dare move it in case she made too much noise. They sat in silence, but it was hard to overhear anything because the people inside were talking over the top of one another. That all changed with the clanking of some heavy bolts and the sound of the main barn doors being opened. Jessica risked popping her head up, but there was little danger of being seen because the inhabitants of the barn were all facing to where a large van was reversing through the double doors. The centre of the barn was drenched in bright light from above, likely connected to Greg’s dodgy meter work. Despite that, the edges and corners were clouded by thick shade, giving Jessica a reasonable view of what was going on with little chance of being seen. She gazed up to the rafters, but there was no sign of any people, nor was there anyone close to the straw bales on the far side.

  It dawned on her that the vertical metal bars bolted into the corner wasn’t a secure storage area at all – it was more like a small prison. She wondered how she’d missed it the first time, though assured herself that most buildings on farms didn’t come with built-in jails. The tractor was still parked by itself, but there was little else to see other than the crowd of people.

  Jessica wondered if Vince’s threat to burn down the barn and the people inside was simply that – a threat – an empty one, because those people weren’t here. Bex wasn’t to know that, though, and her concern for the welfare of those she’d not met was hearteningly wonderful.

  The van’s grumbling engine came to a halt and the driver’s door was flung open. An enormous man dropped down to the ground and reached back to the cabin to retrieve a pump-action shotgun. Everyone had stopped and was staring at him as he thrust the loading mechanism up and down with a thunderous click.

  ‘Vincent,’ he said, nodding towards the farm owner, who was standing nearby. The accent was heavily European but clear enough to make out.

  ‘Axel.’

  For a moment it looked as if they were going to shake hands, but then Axel veered away, heading to the rear doors of his van. With Vince nearby, it made him look even more of a behemoth. Vince wasn’t small and had thick arms with a solid chest – but Axel towered over him. He was comfortably over six feet tall, with a build that either came from steroids or some sort of pump. He looked like an Action Man doll, all muscles and square jaw, with short dark hair with a flat-top. As if the shotgun wasn’t enough, he was wearing the biggest toe-capped boots Jessica had ever seen. She thought people with size ten feet or above were a bit freakish, but this went way beyond that. He’d probably be able to fill out clown shoes.

  ‘Fugging traffic,’ Axel grumble
d to the assembled crowd. ‘Always with the traffic.’

  Vince snorted among a series of laughs from the onlookers. Jessica counted sixteen people present, the majority of whom were men. She hated the fact that this might enforce Fran’s prejudice, but it wasn’t the time to talk about it.

  ‘Let’s hurry,’ Axel added, reaching for the handle but turning to Vince at the final moment. ‘Okay?’

  ‘Fine by me, big guy.’

  Axel frowned, which was a terrifying prospect given how intimidating he looked in the first place. Vince took a small step backwards, closer to where Max was watching with his arms folded. Jessica could only see the side and backs of those present, but it didn’t look as if Peter and Greg Salisbury were there.

  ‘Christ, he’s big.’ Fran was next to Jessica, ducked low with her nose and mouth below the window, eyes peering over the top.

  Jessica didn’t reply.

  Axel heaved one of the van doors open and then leaned in and growled something in a language Jessica didn’t understand. He stepped back and then people started emerging from the van. Axel shouted at them as he levelled the shotgun, ordering them into one long line. There were men and women, all roughly early- to mid-twenties. Their arms, faces and clothes were speckled by dirt and they all blinked, disorientated, into the bright lights.

  The final man out of the van was a little taller than the others, with olive skin and deep black hair. He tripped as he climbed down and then muttered something in his native language. In a flash, Axel stepped across, reeling back with the shotgun and thumping the solid metal butt into the man’s temple. He crashed sideways, landing on his head and bouncing, though not unconscious. He rolled over groggily and then stumbled to his feet, holding his hands in front of himself protectively as Axel approached.

  ‘No,’ he said as a trickle of blood swam around his eyes.

  Axel spat a flurry of words towards him and then the man took his place on the end of the line, struggling to stand straight. Axel walked along the back of the line and then across the front until he was back where he’d started. He held his arms into the air, pointing the gun at the ceiling in the process.

  Vince took the hint, telling the crowd to hurry up. At his instruction, those who had been watching in silence surged forward. They broke off into ones and twos, moving in closely to examine the individuals along the line. It was like a market stall as they poked and prodded, squeezing arm and shoulder muscles, asking some of the men and women to remove clothing so they could look for scars or anything else that might hinder their ability to work.

  ‘It’s like they’re hunting for the best piece of fruit,’ Fran whispered.

  Jessica didn’t disagree. It was appalling: dehumanising and degrading. Once or twice, a couple of the men winced as one of the potential buyers jabbed at them, but any indication of annoyance was immediately met by Axel raising his shotgun.

  Eventually it was over and the crowd returned to where they’d been standing, creating a crescent around Axel, who pointed to the first man in line. He looked terrified, jumping as the larger man clumped into position behind him. He had a thin covering of stubble and short dark hair; slim but not particularly muscled.

  ‘This one’s a cook,’ Axel declared. ‘Good cook. The best.’

  ‘Two hundred,’ someone shouted, but his accent wasn’t local, it was Scottish.

  ‘Three,’ another voice retorted. Again he wasn’t local, pronouncing the ‘th’ as an ‘f’.

  Jessica suddenly realised what was going on. People had come from all over the country for this. She’d not been able to figure out before what was in it for Vince. He was some sort of pimp who’d hire out his slaves, so why would he be allowing other people to buy them?

  Jessica ducked down, with Fran following suit. ‘Is your phone any good?’ Jessica asked.

  ‘It’s all right.’

  ‘While they’re all in here, can you go and take photos of everyone’s number plates?’

  Fran opened her mouth to say something, but then changed her mind. ‘No problem.’

  ‘Hey,’ Jessica added quickly. ‘Don’t get seen.’

  ‘I won’t.’

  Fran squirted along on her backside and then pressed up through the bracken until she was at the edge of the barn. Within a few seconds, she was gone.

  By the time Jessica popped back up, the bidding was up to four hundred and fifty.

  Axel was frowning at the masses, lips tight, gun waggling ominously from side to side. ‘He not going for that.’

  Vince turned back to the crowd, almost pleading. ‘C’mon, lads, this bloke’s a top cook. You’d pay more than that in a weekly wage.’

  ‘Five,’ someone said.

  Axel was still shaking his head. ‘Thousand.’

  Vince glanced nervously from Axel to the crowd. ‘That sounds fair. C’mon, fellas, someone’s gotta have a grand set aside. He’s a fucking gourmet chef in his own country.’

  That brought a ripple of sniggers and then someone shouted ‘six’.

  ‘Six?’ Vince repeated, turning to Axel. ‘Any advance on six?’

  Nobody spoke, everyone watching the big man nervously.

  ‘Six,’ Axel confirmed.

  The collective sigh of relief was so loud that Jessica heard it. A man stepped forward from the crowd, digging into his pockets and pulling out a folded wad of notes. He counted six hundred into Vince’s hand and then patted his new purchase on the shoulder.

  ‘What’s your name?’ he asked.

  The man peered from his buyer to Axel, whose expression didn’t change. ‘Piotr,’ he said.

  ‘Gotcha. We’ve got a long journey, pal – and you’re going in the boot, so best get going.’

  He removed a dog’s collar and lead from his other pocket and unclipped it. As soon as his purchase saw it, he cowered away – but only got as far as Vince, who stood firmly, gripping the man’s neck between his fingers and squeezing. The man squealed, but his buyer showed no emotion, strapping the collar around the man’s neck and then yanking the chain.

  ‘C’mon, time to go.’

  He led him around the van and out into the yard. Soon after there was the sound of an ignition. Jessica could only hope Fran had a picture of the number plate – it was the only way they’d trace him.

  It wasn’t long before Fran returned, saying she’d pictured all of the plates, but the evening was a horrifying spectacle. After the third sale, Jessica couldn’t watch any more. She slumped down the wall, closing her eyes and listening as the men and women were bought in ones and twos. There were a couple of bidding wars, presumably for the bigger, stronger men, and then, one by one, the vehicles pulled away, heading home to wherever they lived, shiny new purchases in toe as if they’d gone Christmas shopping.

  Jessica had lost exact count, but, in all, Axel had made around thirty thousand pounds. She had no idea what Vince’s cut was, not that it mattered.

  Another engine flared and then there was a short silence. Jessica propped herself up, peering through the gap in the window. Apart from Axel, Vince and Max, there was one man remaining. He was trying to stand tall but failing as he shivered. His teeth were chattering as he tried to peer sideways towards where Axel was tapping the barrel of his shotgun on the ground.

  ‘You want him?’ Axel asked Vince.

  Vince shook his head. ‘Wrong time of year.’

  ‘Two hundred? That’s a bargain. Good bargain. You stealing from me.’

  ‘I’d never steal from you.’

  Axel clucked his tongue. ‘You funny, Vincent. Two hundred, yes? We shake on it?’ He offered his hand, but Vince didn’t take it.

  ‘I have no use for him.’ He prodded the man’s slim shoulder.

  ‘One hundred?’

  Vince continued shaking his head. ‘He’s not worth it. I’ll never get that back. He’s not strong enough to build, he doesn’t cook. I’d only use him as a cleaner and I’ve got plenty of those.’

  They stared at one another, but this
was a battle Axel wasn’t going to win. ‘Fine,’ he snapped, whacking the side of his van with his fist. Without warning, he lunged forward, viciously backhanding the man and sending him sprawling to the floor. A spray of blood flew towards the centre of the room. Before the man could move, Axel was on him, yanking him up by the neck, leading him towards the back of the van and throwing him inside. The doors slammed shut with an echoing bang and then Axel and Vince stared at one another.

  ‘You coming inside?’ Vince asked.

  ‘I have ferry to catch.’

  ‘You’ve got time, ain’tcha?’

  Axel nodded slowly. ‘You have food?’

  ‘Aye, we’ve got plenty. Let’s move your van, then come on in.’

  Axel returned to the driver’s seat and then pulled his van forward onto the yard. The red tail lights burned into the darkness and then the barn doors were slammed closed and locked in place.

  Max was alone in the barn. He turned in a circle, humming softly under his breath and then went to a panel on the wall, near to the door. He pressed a button and then a fizz signalled darkness as the overhead lights blinked off. There was momentary light from the person-sized door next to where the van had exited and then Max was outside, too. His footsteps resonated into the distance and another door slammed. Then there was quiet.

  Jessica felt Fran’s fingers fumbling on her arm in the dark.

  ‘What do we do now?’ Fran asked.

  ‘Now we make sure there’s nobody in the barn – then we call the police.’

  Forty-One

  Jessica went first, carefully levering herself into the barn while simultaneously trying not to snag her skin on the shards of glass that remained in the top part of the window frame. Fran followed but without the crowd and the vehicles, the space was full of squeaks and echoes.

  ‘Should we put the lights on?’ Fran asked.

  ‘No. It’ll have to be phones.’

  With the vague glow of the moon, it wasn’t completely dark as a murky grey light seeped through the skylights above, providing a series of spotlights around the floor.