The House on Rectory Lane

by Stuart James

  not to go to a safe house. Jake thought about the café. He hoped he hadn’t left the phone at the table or dropped it outside.

  The driver watched. How easy this would be. He could feel the adrenaline pumping through his veins. Legs shaking with excitable energy. This was a part of the job he loved. The waiting was boring. The next bit, well, he loved this part more than anything in the world.

  ∞∞∞∞ June ran back inside. Droplets of water streaming down her cheeks. The hallway covered in dark brown footprints left behind as she traipsed into the kitchen. Robina grabbed a mop and ran it over the wooden floor. June called out, ‘Please. It’s fine. Come and have your coffee.’

  ∞∞∞∞ Jake walked back into the lodge. ‘Kate, have you seen my phone?’

  ‘Try the glovebox.’

  He went back out. He clicked the lock, and the holder dropped. Jake moved a pile of leaflets

  to the side. It had worked its way down to the bottom. He grabbed the phone and placed it in his back pocket. He tried to close the compartment, but the lock wouldn’t catch. ‘Come on.’ He tried forcing it. Every time, it dropped.

  ∞∞∞∞ Robina had finished her coffee. June handed her an envelope with cash inside. ‘Thanks, Robina. I’ll see you next week.’

  ‘No problem, enjoy the rest of the day.’ June saw that the rain was now torrential.

  ‘Robina. Wait. Look at it outside.’

  ‘Thanks, but I have to get back. My kids will be home from school soon, and they don’t have a key. I must go.’

  ‘OK. But here, wear my headscarf. You’ll catch your death.’ Robina placed it around her head and tied it in a small bow. ‘You can take my umbrella too. Just bring it back next week.’

  ‘Thank you, Mrs Bradshaw. You really do look after me.’ She raced out and headed down the country lane.

  Jake was still struggling with the catch on the glovebox. He slammed it so hard the contents bounced. When he thought he’d done it, he backed out of the car slowly. It dropped again. ‘Bloody hell. Piece of shit,’ he said to himself.

  ∞∞∞∞ The driver was already out of the car. He walked slowly behind, mimicking the footsteps, so he wasn’t heard.

  When he knew it was safe, he walked up behind her.

  ‘Hello?’

  Robina spun around. ‘Can I help you?’ She asked.

  ‘I think you can.’ He moved his head back slightly and before she had a chance to register his movements, he head-butted her straight in the nose. It splattered instantly, and hot, dark liquid poured from her face. She dropped to the floor holding her face and was unconscious a second later.

  Chapter Twenty-four Police swarmed the café. There was total carnage. Armed officers were providing cover for colleagues and witnesses. A couple of them had made sure the area was safe inside. Panic. Customers distressed. Unresponsive, disorientated from shock. The paramedics had arrived and were attending to the waitress. Although she had taken a bullet in the head, they found she was still breathing, ever so slightly. They immediately stemmed the blood. After they spent a few minutes trying to bring her around, the pulse vanished. They tried to resuscitate her using CPR. She wasn’t responding.

  One of the officers shouted in a firm, authoritative voice, ‘No one leaves. Can you all move back? Now.’

  There were a couple of families huddled over in a corner crying into each other’s shoulders. The bikers had made off. They already had run in’s with the law and didn’t need this.

  The chef, who also managed the café was kneeling by the dead body. He was late sixties, looked Italian with egg stains down his apron. He still wore the chef hat which had slid down the side of his head.

  An officer shouted for him to move away.

  He was brought to a corner, and the officer spoke with him.

  ‘Do you have CCTV?’

  He shook his head. ‘I have never needed it.’

  Tell me what happened?’

  He introduced himself as Antonio. ‘It all went down so quick. My Cheryl.’ He struggled to hold in his emotion.

  ‘Please. Take your time.’

  One of the paramedics shouted, ‘We’ve lost her.’ Two of them were still pumping on her stomach causing the dead woman to jolt.

  ‘This guy. He came in. Said he was looking for a family. Big he was.’

  ‘What else? Clothes, facial features?’

  ‘He had black suit. I remember he look smart, you know. Sunglasses too. I was serving the biker guys. They come a lot. Nice chaps. Never trouble.’

  The manager looked around for them. ‘What then?’

  ‘I see him first. He’s running around. Like he look for someone. Cheryl ask if he wanna to eat something. Then he shout. Where are they? She say she no know who he looking for. He run some more. He ask again, and the bastard pulls a gun and pops her.’

  The officer looked back over at the body. He aimed the question across the room. ‘Did anyone get a look at the car? Registration? Anything like that?’

  They shook their heads. ‘What else can you tell me, Antonio?’

  ‘He had a slight a beard. You know. How you say? Stubble.’ The officer jotted in a notebook as the manager spoke. ‘He tall. As I say, smart looking. Rough looking skin.’

  ‘Like acne, spots on his face, you mean?’

  ‘I dunno know how to describe, but I say rough. Blotchy. Pleasa. Getta this animal.’

  ‘OK. Thank you, Antonio. We will catch whoever is responsible for this.’

  The CSI team arrived shortly after. One of the officers brought them up to speed. They spoke with the others who were ordered to wait but didn’t get anything new. They all said much the same as Antonio. The officer called Reynolds who had been spending her day off visiting her mother. He filled her in, and she said she’d come straight over.

  Robina woke up. Her head was splitting. She took in where she was. Standing, but held somehow, she tried to move her arms and realised she’d been chained to some sort of pole. A gag had been tied through her mouth, but she managed to push it slightly out with her tongue. The room was dark apart from a glow from some sort of kiln a few feet away from her. She could hear a fire blazing inside it. What the hell is this place? She thought. She remembered walking out of June’s house. Someone approaching her and then nothing. The pain was unbearable now, and she started to recall a man smashing her in the face with his head. She panicked. Screamed out, ‘Help! Help me! Someone. Please!’

  As she noticed her legs were also tied she realised people were talking in the distance. Above her. She could hear them shuffling around. Machines whirring. Some sort of factory? She thought she must be in the middle of a nightmare. Hoping she’d wake up any second.

  The door swung open, and a shadow moved across the light darkening the room for a brief second. A pig mask? She hoped it was porky coming to her rescue. The pig shut the door and pulled down an iron bar securing it. This is bad, she thought. He made his way slowly over to where she was tied up, and she screamed. Her eyes wild with fear. She was panting as she tried to rip her arms from the chains which held her so well. She moved her head left and right. ‘Please. Don’t hurt me. What do you want?’

  From underneath the mask, a muffled voice said, ‘I will only ask this once.’

  The pain in her head intensified. The taste of stale rust filled her mouth, like she’d licked a metallic pole. She tried to spit. Get rid of the taste. Throbbing pain pulsed through her body.

  ‘Where are the family?’

  ‘What family? I don’t know who you’re talking about. Honestly. You must believe me.’

  The pig went to the corner of the room. Robina watched as he grabbed a poker from the shelf. It looked heavy and was about a foot long. He opened the kiln. The fire brightened the room like blinds pulled up on a sunny morning stinging her eyes for a second. He held the poker into the fire.

  ‘Please. I don’t know what family you want. You must believe me.’ After a few minutes, he removed the poker. She saw the glow – lik
e a sparkler that had just run its course on bonfire night.

  He was a few inches from her face. ‘Please. I beg you. I don’t know anything about a family. You must believe me.’ He lifted the heavy bar and rammed it straight into her right eye. Jake was back in the lodge dialling Reynolds’ number. When she answered, he explained what had just happened. Reynolds confirmed she’d already heard and was on her way there now. It was her day off, and she wasn’t best pleased. He told her exactly what he’d seen.

  ‘What the heck is going on? Why are they after us? Where do we fit into all this?’ He had a million questions. The more he thought about it, the crazier it seemed.

  Kate was coming out of the bathroom. Her hair was still wet and dripped onto the floor. She had a white dressing gown on and matching slippers. He hung up the phone and grabbed her. She shook in his arms. Burst into tears.

  ‘Come on. I won’t let them get to us. I promise.’

  ‘Why are they after us, Jake? Why?’ So much had happened the last week. It felt like they were being run out of their home. He thought briefly about returning to Holloway Road. Their old life seemed so much easier. Parking issues, traffic, and the odd scuffle were heaven compared to this. They couldn’t leave. They had nowhere else to go. For now, the lodge was safe. No one knew they were here. It would have to do temporarily. Jake looked around. The log burner in the corner of the living room where they stood. He couldn’t risk lighting it as they couldn’t draw the attention. The breakfast island. The shelf adorned with cat ornaments, one waving its paw back and forth continuously. Plain black sofa with a throw over it to help keep it clean. A small, flat screen TV on the wall. A picture hung welcoming guests which read: Stay as long as you like. Don’t be sad when leaving, remember, if you don’t go, you can’t come back. Sean appeared announcing he was hungry. He hadn’t managed to eat anything earlier when they rushed out. Kate got up, looked in the fridge and found they had a tin of beans. One packet of bacon. Two small packets of sausages. A loaf of white bread. That would do nicely. Jake kept watching out the window.

  ∞∞∞∞ The driver called his boss. ‘It’s done. You should have seen her. I shackled her to the—’ ‘I don’t want you to talk. Spare me the details.’

  ‘But I—’

  ‘I nothing. Well done. You carried out an order. It will hit them where it hurts. But you know

  what you have to do now. Don’t call me until you have carried out what I am really asking. Do you understand?’ ‘Yes. Yes, I get it.’

  ‘Good. Otherwise, I promise, what happened to the mother is nothing compared to what I have planned for you. I need it done today. Find them, and if you cock it up again, you won’t see tomorrow. I’ll personally come after you.’ He hung up.

  The driver had a plan. It had to work.

  ∞∞∞∞ Reynolds arrived at the café with Marsden. As they parked up, forensics were out the front taking castings from fresh tyre tracks in the hope of matching up wear patterns. Yellow tape with black printing, ‘Do not enter,’ had been wrapped around the outside, flapping in the wind. A small crowd had started gathering; an officer was struggling to push them back. As they made their way to the inside, the senior CSI ordered them to wear the protective overalls and enter the cafe from the back so they didn’t ruin any evidence.

  One of the officers made his way over and introduced himself, ‘Chief Inspector Harry Ryan.’

  ‘Hi. I’m DI Reynolds; this is my partner, DI Marsden.’ Harry shook hands with both officers and prepared to brief them on what had happened. ‘So. Start from the beginning,’ she asked. Harry filled in all the blanks. Marsden took notes.

  Once Harry had finished, the two officers made a brief note of the statements they were shown, and recorded other details. Addresses, phone numbers and everything else necessary. The witnesses were being moved outside and held for questioning so the CSI’s could sweep the scene. They were looking restless. Marsden gathered the remaining few up who were still in shock and then led them out to the side of the carpark. Along with his partner, they proceeded to speak with each of them to make sure everything was correct. Once they had finished, the small group shuffled off. How should he say goodbye after what they’d been through? Marsden thought to himself. Cheerio. Thanks, all of you for coming. We’ll do it again soon yeah, hope you enjoyed your breakfast. He chose to say nothing. The senior CSI moved over to the officers.

  ‘I’ll give you a rundown of what we’ve found here. Judging by accounts from witness statements, It’s possible the bullet was from a 9-mm centre-fire handgun, arguably the most common type of weapon used today. Judging by the force of impact, the perpetrator shot her from pointblank range; I’d estimate, three or four inches at the most.

  ‘Wow, must have made some mess,’ said Reynolds.

  ‘You could say that, yes. The killer only had to use one bullet.’

  ‘Was a silencer used?’

  ‘No. Not in this case. It’s a good and bad sign?’

  ‘In what way?’ Asked Reynolds.

  ‘A silencer can hamper the evidence. Plays with the bullet causing confusion with residue, that kind of thing. We’re hoping to get DNA from the ejected shell casing.’

  ‘And the bad news?’ She asked.

  ‘It seems whoever is behind this, they don’t care how or where they strike.’

  Chapter Twenty-five A short while after, PC’s Emma and Ryan were sat out in the car, contemplating their next move. Reynolds asked them to follow up on Anton. Find out what happened to Shelly. The waitress. As they pulled out of the carpark, the radio scrambled. A voice came on, giving them details of a woman who had called in, Joanna Harper. She’d been out for a drink with her friend on Sunday night and couldn’t contact her. Emma jotted down the details, and they headed over.

  They pulled up in front of a nineteenth-century townhouse just outside Ramsbury. The driveway was secured by a double iron gate with fake lions sat at the top of each post. They pressed the intercom fixed on the right-side wall. A phone rang and connected after three rings. ‘Hi. Joanna speaking.’

  ‘Yes. It’s officer Emma Styles. I’m with my partner. Could we come in?’ The buzzer sounded, and the gates slid back.

  They parked up next to a Jaguar E-Type. A clamp fitted to the front right tyre for extra security. Joanna came down to greet them at the door. Once the introductions were out of the way, she opened the door and asked them to come in. Styles gasped at the inside decor. Elegant paintings hung gracefully in the hall, birds flying through a clear sunrise, a safari trek, an elderly couple dining outside a Parisian café. A spiral staircase sweeping around itself as it rose to the next floor. Wide, white marble tiles led to an enormous living room filled with a collection of antique, porcelain ornaments. Joanna beckoned them to the oversized leather Chesterfield that took up a quarter of the room. Styles couldn’t help wondering if Mummy and Daddy had done well for themselves.

  ‘I understand you’re concerned about your friend?’ Asked Styles.

  Joanna explained the night at the bar leaving nothing out. ‘We weren’t actually due to speak until later in the week, but I wanted to get all the gossip from when I left. She hasn’t answered her phone all day, which is not like her at all, it’s practically attached to her hand. I went over to her house and couldn’t get an answer. Something isn’t right. It’s not like her at all.’

  Without wanting to scare Joanna any further, Ryan and Emma told her they were sure that Sofia would most probably be with Mike and that her phone battery was probably dead. They also told her they would have a chat with the staff at the bar and see if anyone knew him, so they could try and contact her that way.

  Leaving her card, PC Styles asked Joanna to let them know if she heard anything before they did and assured her that they were taking her seriously. Once Joanna had closed the door behind them, and they were back in the car, Emma and Ryan decided that depending on the outcome of the conversation they were about to have with the staff at The Anchor, they would have to raise
this to a priority enquiry. Ramsbury was too small a village for it to be a coincidence that two, gorgeous young ladies had disappeared within the space of a week.

  Once outside the pub, they parked up, turned off the engine and walked over to the entrance. The neon green Anchor sign had caught their eye as soon as they arrived on the street. Inside, a couple were sat at the bar eating sushi, perfecting the art of the chopstick and the young blonde girl behind the bar was flirting with a customer, who was sipping a coke with an umbrella floating inside the tall glass.

  When they managed to catch her eye, her attention focussed on their uniforms, and she came straight over.

  Showing her his ID card, Ryan asked her if the manager or owner was available to speak with.

  ‘No, I’m afraid not, nowadays Larry spends most of his time on the golf course. I’m Annette, the assistant manager, is there anything I can help you with?’

  ‘Two girls were in here on Sunday night, sat at the bar. A tall blonde and shorter brunette; both mid-twenties. They were with a man. Were you working, or can you tell us who was?’ ‘I remember them. They arrived early and had a lot to drink. I think they had a bit of an issue with a guy who tried to make a move on them. Scruffy bloke, not our usual clientele, but the good-looking guy sent him packing before he joined them. He was a right looker; I thought he was the blonde’s fella the way they were acting.’

  ‘Can you describe him?’ Emma asked.

  ‘Well, the trampy one looked like a tramp – sorry – I didn’t really pay much attention to him as it was busy but the other guy, he was gorgeous. Tall, dark, and handsome, had a lovely look about him.’

  ‘Where is the CCTV stored?’ Ryan asked, nodding towards the camera over the bar.

  ‘Well, it’s not actually filming at the moment, the server broke, and Larry would rather spend his money entertaining his mates at the golf club than getting it fixed. Why? What’s the problem?’