“Afraid not, sir. The constable who attended the scene was called away. He ended up taking Adam to the hospital because of the hit-and-run, so the arson CCTV wasn’t viewed properly. The Town Sergeant was aware and tried to arrange to get a copy of it. Problem was, nobody could get hold of Adam – he was either at his daughter’s bedside or visiting his wife – he was never at home and wasn’t replying to messages.” Bream looked angry. “They did speak to him briefly. Apparently, Adam told the sergeant that the footage only showed two indistinct shadows, nothing that would be identifiable.”
“But that’s just his opinion,” replied Bream, gruffly. “He’s not a copper anymore. Seize it anyway. Maybe we can get it enhanced or something.”
DS Carmichael broke eye contact and looked at the floor. “I had the same thought, sir, but apparently he said that he had deleted the footage as it would be useless to us.”
“You’re kidding, right?” Bev shook her head slowly. “That’s just fucking great! At least he can’t complain that we aren’t doing anything about it this time, seeing as it was HIM who destroyed the evidence - such as it was.”
Bream was seething and stormed off down the corridor.
As he left, Bev thought to herself, thanks for asking after his wife and daughter’s condition. It was clear to her that all he was concerned about was covering his own back against any potential future complaints.
Chapter 30
00:10 – Tuesday 18th December.
Adam opened the van doors to find Sam collapsed, motionless.
He was curled into a ball on the metal floor, his eyes tightly shut. His breathing appeared shallow and intermittent, and there was congealed blood smeared across the van’s panelling, soaked into his clothing, and coating the back of his head.
Adam leaned forward to check his pulse. Had his injuries been more serious than first thought? But at the touch of his fingertips, Sam began to stir. He sat upright, still lethargic, but awake. He blinked, clearing his vision.
“Where are we?” he asked.
“Don’t you worry about that.”
Adam helped him to his feet as he slid out of the van’s cargo compartment. Cutting the cable-ties that fastened his ankles, they shuffled across the muddy compound towards the open doors of Harwood Farm’s antiquated barn. An old chair, something akin to the sort you might find in a country kitchen, had been placed in the centre of its vast interior and Sam was directed towards it. He sat down heavily, the effort of walking the short distance having taken its toll on his body. Adam quickly secured him into position by wrapping a length of course hemp rope around his torso and legs.
“What you gonna do to me?”
Adam smiled. “You’ll find out soon enough. But first, we’d better get you some company.”
Sam had no idea what he meant. His head was spinning and throbbing at the back. He was on the verge of unconsciousness.
During the drive to the farm, Adam had decided to kill two birds with one stone - metaphorically speaking. His new, revised plan was to get Sam’s partner-in-crime, and fellow arsonist, Callum Cliff, to join them at the farm so that he could deal with both of them together. He pulled Sam’s mobile phone from his pocket and began thumbing through the various screens. If he received a message from this phone, Callum would assume that it was Sam who had sent it. He just needed to make it cryptic enough to pique his interest and ensure that he attended ASAP. He glanced at the signal strength symbol in the top corner of the screen. Two bars – not brilliant - but at least there was some coverage. It had suddenly occurred to Adam that at such a remote location as this, there might not be any reception at all. He typed a quick text message before hitting the ‘Send’ button.
.
URGENT – Need to CU NOW @ Harwood Farm – Found some interesting stuff – B a nice little earner – Sending directions now.
.
He immediately sent a link on the ‘Maps’ app to Callum’s phone. Within a few minutes, a reply was received.
.
On way.
.
Adam shone his torch at Sam. His head had fallen to his chest and he appeared to be asleep, or unconscious. Moving closer, he could hear a shallow rasping noise as he breathed. Satisfied that he was not dead or dying, he looked at his watch. It would take a while for Cliff to find his way to the farm - he had a little time to spare. He grabbed a plastic bucket from the mound of debris littering the far wall of the barn, filled it with water from an external tap, and began cleaning the inside of his van. If things did go wrong, if the police did get involved at any point, it was best that he did not leave any forensic evidence that might incriminate him in Barr’s assault and kidnap. He set to work removing every last trace of his existence.
-
Sound travels vast distances at night.
That was how Adam first became aware of the approaching vehicle. Next came its headlights, switched to full-beam, cutting a swathe through the inky blackness of the deserted moorland - they were visible from miles away. From his secluded vantage point, he watched their approach. Slowly, but surely, they got nearer.
By the time that the old VW Golf had reached the farmyard, Adam had moved into the confines of the darkened barn. He had purposely left the double doors partially open so that the ambient moonlight would highlight Sam as he sat tied to his chair, the addition of a rag stuffed inside his mouth ensuring that he did not utter a word. His van had been hidden out of view, thus maintaining the impression that the farm was deserted. He just hoped that Callum would not become suspicious seeing as there was no visible means of Sam having travelled to such a remote location.
Callum parked in the centre of the muddy yard and climbed out of his car. He left the headlights switched on, flooding the derelict farmhouse in arcs of white light, as he looked for any indication of where his friend might be hiding. He saw nothing, so he scanned the dark outbuildings, but still he found no clues as to where he might be.
“Sam, where are you?” he called, in a loud whisper.
He heard a muffled, “Mmm...Mmm,” coming from the barn.
He strode towards the open doors, took a couple of steps inside and then froze to the spot. Sam was tied-up, strapped to a chair, and gagged. He saw fear in his friend’s eyes as he struggled against his bindings, his seat rocking from side to side.
“What the fu...?” he exclaimed.
Callum’s eyes darted left and right, searching the shadows. Who had done this to him? Why had they done this to him? He was confused and becoming increasingly anxious. He noticed Sam’s eyes flicking to the right. Was he trying to tell him something? He turned - but it was too late - Callum’s world went black as Adam stepped from behind the barn door and hit him across the back of the head with a length of wood.
-
Callum awoke to the worst migraine ever!
His head was pounding and he felt nauseous. He opened his eyes and slowly his vision came into focus. He was sitting in the driver’s seat of his own car, his hands cable-tied to the steering wheel. The dashboard clock read 01:30 – less than fifteen minutes since he had been hit from behind. He tentatively turned his head to the left, his neck in agony as he did so. Sam was sitting in the passenger seat next to him, his face caked in dry blood and etched with fear. He was struggling with his bindings, his flesh swelling as the cable-ties cut deep into his skin. Callum looked around the vehicle. The windows were open and the seats felt damp beneath his legs. Had he wet himself? He was not sure, but anything was possible in this nightmare. He shivered in the icy air, noticing that a thin layer of snow had settled since he had arrived at the farm. And then it hit him – the smell. He could smell something familiar. PETROL. It was not his own urine that he was sitting in, it was petrol! Shaken and confused, the fear of being burned alive suddenly hit him. Panic set in.
Adam had been watching them from the barn. Having now seen that both arsonists were conscious and aware of their predicament, he considered ending their terror. However, seeing them
suffer, unaware of what he had planned for them, felt good. There was no rush. He decided to wait a while, prolonging their agony. After all, they had tormented his family for long enough. He would deal with them once he was good and ready.
As he watched his captives struggle to escape their restraints, as their voices became higher pitched and more panicked, he again had a niggling feeling that he had seen these two before - from behind. The back of their heads, particularly in the context of a car environment, seemed to jolt a memory from his subconscious. Then it struck him – he had seen them before, he was sure of it. He pulled Jared Brown’s phone from his jacket pocket and revisited the footage of the hit-and-run. The clip showing the mystery driver and front seat passenger was almost identical to the scene that he was looking at now - only their relative positions had been reversed. Suddenly everything clicked into place. Barr had been the driver and Cliff had been the passenger. Both had almost killed his wife and daughter, in addition to trying to burn his house down. Adam’s rage returned. The red mist was rising fast. Any thoughts of leniency had long gone - the time for playing mind games was over. It was time to implement his planned retribution.
Picking up the red plastic fuel can by his feet, he marched towards the car. As he neared the driver’s door, he began pouring petrol through the open window, soaking Callum’s upper body and causing him to gag as it entered his mouth. He walked to the passenger’s side and did the same to Sam. Both squirmed in their seats trying to avoid the noxious liquid, but it was hopeless. They cried and pleaded for their lives, sure in their own minds that Adam was about to ignite the fuel. But having soaked the car’s occupants, Adam stepped back to observe his handiwork. He watched with interest as their terror increased until, all of a sudden, it dawned on them that their tormentor had ceased, that he was staring at them. They wondered what he had got planned for them next.
There was an old cable drum sat in the mud directly in front of the car. Its top made an ideal makeshift table. Adam perched upon its rim and produced a mobile phone from his pocket.
“I know how much you boys like to film everything, so I’m gonna film you both as you confess your part in the arson and the hit-and-run.”
Callum and Sam looked at one another, silently agreeing to say nothing. They stared back at Adam defiantly and began protesting their innocence.
“I thought you might feel like that.”
Adam took a large box of matches from his pocket and shook it, its contents rattling loudly. Sam and Callum went silent as they understood the implied threat. Adam let the tension build before propping the phone on the cable drum and hitting ‘record.’
“OK, who wants to start? Let’s keep things simple. Who thought it was a good idea to torch my house?” Adam spoke calmly and clearly, controlling his anger.
There was a pregnant pause, and then Sam blurted out, “Alright, we did it! There wasn’t much damage. Nobody got hurt.” He was panicking, saying anything to mitigate his punishment. Adam looked at the matches in his hand as he contemplated whether to light one or not.
“Nobody got hurt, eh? What if the fire had taken hold? There would have been three dead!” There was a tremor in his voice as he struggled to control his fury. Suppressing his rage, he asked, “Who put you up to it? It wouldn’t have been your idea, you’re not clever enough. Come on, confess all, it’ll be good for your soul.” He was being sarcastic.
Callum turned towards Sam and said in a threatening tone, “Say nothing. They’ll kill us if we grass.” Sam nodded his understanding.
“That’s OK. If that’s how you want to play it, that’s fine. You’re gonna die anyway, either at the hands of your boss, or me.”
“Bollocks!” said Callum. “You’re an ex-copper, you ain’t gonna kill us.” He smiled, thinking that he had discovered the flaw in Adam’s plan – he had neither the bottle nor the killer instinct to see it through - despite his threats.
“Really? Are you certain? Are you willing to risk your life on that assumption?” He paused to see if either would answer his questions. “Look, I know you were both involved in the arson. It’s not you I want, it’s your boss. But I also know that one of you drove the car that nearly killed my wife and daughter.” A look of shock showed on both men’s faces. They had not realised that Adam was aware of their involvement in the hit-and-run too. “If either of them dies, you are both going to die anyway. Now, who ordered the arson?”
Sam stared at Callum for guidance. They were even more scared of Adam’s threats now, knowing that he knew the full extent of their involvement. However, their pact stood firm, they said nothing. Adam was becoming more than a little frustrated.
“OK, if you don’t want to answer that question, try another. Who was driving the car that hit my family?”
Suddenly, Sam screamed, “It was Cal.” He had panicked and said the first thing that came to mind to save his own skin.
“You fucking liar!” shouted Callum. “You were the bloody driver and you know it. You’re a fucking idiot trying to stitch me up. Cheers MATE!”
“Well, that’s good to know,” said Adam. “Now, once again for the camera, who was driving when you ploughed into my family?”
“It was Sam,” replied Callum, physically turning away from his supposed friend. Sam stared at his feet thinking that he was a dead man walking. As far as he was concerned, Callum had just signed his death warrant.
“And on whose orders were you both working when you tried to kill my family in the fire, and in the hit-and-run?” There was silence, the fear of the Turners outweighing the wrath of Adam. “I asked a question. I expect an answer.” Again, there was silence. “I’m losing my patience.”
When nobody replied, Adam stood and slowly walked towards Sam’s side of the car. He was the weaker of the two and so he was the one to terrorise in order to get the information. Adam lit a match, gazing in awe as the orange flame twisted and turned, burning its way down the matchstick. Sam watched in horror. Once the flame had been extinguished, Adam looked into his eyes. “Well?” He was too traumatised to reply.
Adam lit another match. This time, he flicked it such that it bounced off the metallic surface of the car door and dropped to the ground, landing in a small puddle of spilt petrol. The fumes ignited and flames rose into the air before quickly burning out. Sam screamed and fought to push his body as far away from the door as possible. Not being in a position to see the puddle, he had assumed that the car was alight.
“The next one is going through the window. I suggest you tell me who ordered the attacks on my family.”
Sam had had enough. Part crying, part screaming, he said, “ALRIGHT! Alright, it was Turner.”
“Which Turner? For the camera.” Adam pointed at the phone on the cable drum.
“Aaron, Aaron Turner.” Sam was physically shaking with fear. Callum simply leaned forward, banging his head on the steering wheel with frustration at his friend’s stupidity.
“Thanks for that, lads. Don’t you feel better now that you’ve told the truth?”
Not waiting for any reply, Adam collected the phone, stopped the recording, and casually strolled towards the barn.
“I’ll be back soon. Now, don’t go anywhere, will you?”
Callum and Sam breathed a collective sigh of relief, but their concerns were not over yet. What had he got in store for them next? It might be a whole lot worse once he returned.
Adam needed a break.
Once inside the barn, he collapsed onto the kitchen chair and looked at his hands. They were shaking. The stress of acting the hard-man had drained his energy. Would he have followed through with his threats? Could he have set light to the car with his two prisoners inside? He did not know, but he had certainly been tempted. They had pushed him to the limit. They had hurt his family. And now they would pay for their actions. But, although they had been the ones who had physically committed the acts against his family, it was Aaron that was the true culprit. Aaron was the one that his anger was primaril
y aimed towards. Which left Adam with a dilemma: having now obtained filmed confessions to the arson and the hit-and-run, and having also obtained evidence implicating Aaron in both offences, what should he do with the footage and what should he do with Cliff and Barr?
The confessions would not be admissible in any court of law. Obtaining a confession under threat of death was frowned upon under the British judicial system. However, Cliff and Barr were not to know that. It would certainly be a valuable resource if used to blackmail them into silence, and of course, should it fall into Aaron’s hands, he would be none too pleased and would, no doubt, exact his own form of punishment on the two informants.
On the other hand, he could always follow through with his threats and burn the two arsonists alive. God knows they deserved it. But deep down, despite all that he had done, Adam was still an ex-copper - he had morals and had not been pushed to that extreme – yet! Aaron Turner, now that was a totally different story.
Adam sat and contemplated his options.
Ten minutes later, he returned to the car. He said nothing to his captives who were both visibly shivering with cold and fear. Locking eyes with each, he pulled a knife from the back of his trousers. Their pupils enlarged to the size of saucers and they pushed back in their seats, distancing themselves as best they could. Adam leaned through the driver’s door window and searched Callum, removing his mobile phone that was secreted in his trouser pocket. He could hear Sam quietly sobbing. Looking towards him, he could see that he was murmuring, “No, no. Please,” under his breath. But instead of using the knife to attack them, Adam cut their restraints, freeing their arms and legs. Still in a state of shock, they both rubbed the sore areas where the ties had cut into their flesh. Standing to one side, Adam spoke for the first time since returning to the vehicle.
“Fuck off out of here. If I see either of you again, I’ll kill you, is that clear?” They both nodded overzealously. “You’re gonna leave Barrington for good. You’re not gonna contact Aaron again, and you’re not gonna talk to the police. You are going to VANISH.” They continued nodding, thankful to still be alive. “If you return to the area, if you contact Turner, I’ll show him your filmed confessions, and you know what that’ll mean. If he doesn’t kill you, then I will.” There was a look of understanding as the blood drained from their faces. “If I see or hear from either of you again, then the footage might just appear at the doors of the police. You’ve admitted your part in attempted murder, so you’ll be looking at life sentences. If you stay hidden, we’ll say no more, OK? I’ve got bigger fish than you two to fry.” There was a slight pause as they considered his offer. “Do we have a deal?”
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