by Stuart James
Jake walked out to him. ‘Any luck?’
‘Well, if there are any devices, hidden cameras or the likes, this baby will pick them up. The problem being some cameras aren’t always on. I’m looking for a glint, the type you’d expect to get from a lens that could be watching us. The glass will reflect back out pinpointing exactly where it’s fitted. They’re usually hidden pretty well though. If you are being watched, it ain’t gonna be obvious.’
Jake followed him about. Ed pulled out a torch from a pouch around his waist. ‘Can I remove these pictures?’
‘Be my guest; they’re not ours anyway.’ He carefully lifted the frame and leant it against the wall.
‘Nothing here. I’m also looking for the smallest of drill holes, marks, plaster missing, that kind of thing.’ Ed moved to the next one and carefully lifted the picture, inspecting it. ‘Oh yeah, what’s this then?’ Ed grabbed a tweezer type implement from his bag and pulled something from the wall. He held it up.
‘What is it?’ Jake asked.
‘A microphone. I’d hazard a guess they’ve been listening to your every word.’
‘I knew it.’ Reynolds joined the two men.
Jake turned towards her. ‘What did I say?’
She looked concerned, then added, ‘What the hell is going on in this town?’ Marsden returned from Pete’s place making Jake feel queasy. He was unsure if Pete would press charges.
‘Hi. How did it go?’ Jake asked.
‘They’re not in.’
‘What do you mean? He was jet washing the drive less than an hour ago.’ ‘Well, he’s taken off in a hurry then.’
Ed spent another couple of hours checking the place out. He also found a couple of small
cameras hidden, one further down the hall on the same wall and another upstairs, between Jake and Sean’s room. He was confident that had been it and carried out the disarmament of the system which had been installed to watch the family.
Jake thanked him for his expert work. Reynolds also praised his swift service. Once he’d gone, Reynolds announced she would head off assuring Jake they would find his wife and son.
‘What am I supposed to do in the meantime?’
‘I need you to stay here. The CSI team will be hear shortly. I’ll also get someone over to board up the window in the kitchen after they’ve been. Keep the house locked. Don’t go out. It’s for your own safety, Jake.’
‘Don’t worry about the window. I’ll board it.’
‘You’re sure?’
‘Yeah. I’m quite handy believe it or not.’
‘I don’t doubt it.’ She placed her hand on his shoulder; he looked broken. ‘I’ll call you if I hear anything.’ Marsden followed her out.
∞∞∞∞ That evening Jake was searching the Internet. He typed in his wife’s name. Sean’s. He was clutching at straws, hoping for any news of their whereabouts. He tapped in the words missing persons, Ramsbury. A picture of the Prescotts filled half the page. Jake had already read most of the stuff online. How they’d moved to the picturesque village to escape the city. A popular, well-liked part of the community.
Mark, a bookkeeper, Julie taught in the local primary school before retiring. Going on now nine or so months since they’d been seen. Snippets from friends and acquaintances hoping to hear from them. A reward offered for information leading to them being found. Jake clicked a link to the page. More information to do with the disappearance. Jason, Mark Prescott’s tormented brother. Found hanging in his hotel room. His devastated wife planning to come up and get answers, to try and finish what Mark had set out to do, although, the police had strongly warned her against it and to leave them to investigate. Jake wanted to contact her. Obviously, there was no information on how to get in touch with her. Surely two heads were better than one.
Another article conveyed a missing drama student, Shelly Winterbourne. The bracelet lady. Punchy Man had to have her. Taken from her car out on a lonely stretch of road. Underneath that, Joanna, out drinking with her friend on Sunday night, hasn’t been heard of since. Jake hadn’t heard about this.
He came off the site and searched Twitter for the missing woman, Julie Prescott. Hashtag the Prescott’s. Hashtag Ramsbury. There were local police reports, more news articles and the usual trolls. He glanced at a few of the accusations. He did it man. Had to have. A response. Yeah, he killed her mate, then done the brother. Hope the sister-in-law sleeps tight. Jake scrolled down. There were quite a few Karen Prescotts, but none of whom looked anything like the picture of Jason’s wife. Nothing mentioning the terrible family tragedy.
He logged into Facebook, typed her name in and found her page. It was filled with wellwishers, sad emojis, and condolences. This was her. Jake was shocked to find the account so easy. He considered adding something, then went for the direct message. It was safer that way.
Dear Mrs Prescott,
Let me start by saying how very sad I am for your loss and the tragic circumstances surrounding your family. I can’t imagine what you are going through.
My name is Jake Morley, and I am renting the house where your brother- and sister-in-law were living. So much has happened in the last week and now my wife and child have gone missing.
Maybe we could help each other get to the bottom of these tragedies?
Jake added his mobile number at the bottom of the page and pressed send. He shut the computer off, grabbed a glass of milk and looked out of the broken window of the kitchen. He felt like bursting into tears. Where are you both? This can’t be happening. He paced up and down the hall, remembering he’d left Kate’s phone at the lodge when he’d left in such a hurry. He was going out to get it. Now.
Before he left, he boarded the window as best he could.
Jake switched on the alarm, closed the front door and headed to the car. It started first time. Smoke billowed from the exhaust. The fob opened the gates, and he headed out onto Rectory Lane. As he got halfway down the hill, lights appeared in the rear-view mirror. He pulled left at the bottom of the hill and the bright trail glistening off his wing mirrors followed. Jake slowed down slightly. Although there were no street lamps overheard, he made out the vehicle behind. A black Jeep. He wasn’t in any mood to play cat and mouse as he touched the brake. The Jeep came up behind him. Jake kept the speed slow, veering out to the middle of the road so the Jeep couldn’t pass. The driver behind flashed his headlamps. The driver pulled back, then sped up, still flashing. Arsehole. Come on. Do your best. As Jake crawled around a bend in the road, it split into two lanes. The Jeep went to overtake, but Jake quickly swung to the right-hand side of the road, forcing the other car to the inside lane. It was levelling with him now and when it was almost parallel, Jake pulled the steering wheel to the left. A sharp, hard swing, ramming the Jeep down a small verge and Jake watched as it hit a tree. ‘Woohoo, see how you like that, prick.’ He shouted.
Jake pulled over and ran back towards the Jeep. He needed answers, and if there was any life left in the driver, he was going to try and get some. The black Jeep was turned on its side against the ditch. The engine still running, and the airbags inflated. Airbags? Jake thought – There must be two of them. And there were, an elderly couple, in their eighties by the look of them. Husband and wife? The blood.
‘Oh my God. What have I done?’
Chapter Twenty-seven A single light came into view from the top of a winding road leading down from the hill. Closing in. The engine roaring. Probably a mile or so away. He had time. Just. Jake panicked. He opened the car door with his sleeve. ‘You OK?’ The man was angry – saliva was spilling from his lips. A streak of blood streamed down the side of his head from a gash where he must have hit his head on the steering wheel. He’d need a couple of stitches.
‘What does it look like? You’re a bloody lunatic!’ He turned and pulled his wife slowly upwards from the dashboard. She groaned and spouted something rude at Jake.
‘You’re going down for this. I’ll make sure of it! They’ll throw the book at
you.’ The couple shifted and went to get out of the car, nursing their wounds. God, he knew he shouldn’t do this. Leaving the scene. Fleeing. He’d be labelled a hit and runner. One of the worse kind. How many times had he read newspaper reports of this happening? He hated people for doing it. Despised them. Cowardly. Selfish. Arrogant lowlifes. An elderly couple too. Pull it together, Jake. If you stay, you’ll never find Kate and Sean – could be held for days. Jake wasn’t prepared for that to happen. On the spur of the moment, he charged back to his car, panting like a freight train. The bike was gaining. He guessed about half a mile away. Jake withheld his number, called the paramedics and gave the location. The couple were injured, but they’d live. He started the car, as it struggled to life Jake pumped the clutch. He looked at the gauge. The red light ordering to feed the engine. Shit. Not now, please. The engine died. Oh God, please, no. He was so organised. How could he let this happen? He tried again, and the engine started, Jake drilling the accelerator for the last bit of petrol to feed through. The engine steadied, ticking over, giving the signal that it was ready, just about. He looked behind and ripped out onto the quiet road. A few seconds later the biker roared around the corner and pulled over behind the car. Jake kept his speed just under the limit, not wanting to draw any attention. There was a scratching noise coming from the left side of the car. He knew he’d done some damage to it. Another thing to sort when he had the chance. The red petrol light was still glowing; there had to be a station close. He eventually saw a yellow glowing sign, declaring petrol, coffee, and a twenty-four-hour Subway. Jake eased up and pulled over. Getting out of the car, Jake held his breath as a motorbike approached. Thankfully, while he was filling up, it passed. Inside, a guy was moping the floor. ‘Spillage. Bloody kids. Can’t trust them.’ Jake noticed a couple of broken beer bottles as the shop assistant went around to the till. ‘What pump number?’
‘Erh, three.’
‘Ha, gets them every time.’ Jake missed the joke until he realised the forecourt was empty.
‘Oh. Very good.’ He grabbed a chocolate bar and crisps then placed them on the counter.
‘Where are you headed?’
‘Oh, just coming from work.’ He couldn’t be bothered with the small talk. He jolted as a police car headed down the other side of the dual carriageway.
‘You looked spooked. Not running from someone are you?’ The cashier handed Jake the change, and he made his way out.
Jake parked up outside the lodge. The door was open. Lights off. He reached in and pressed the switch. Kate’s phone lay on the kitchen table. It was dead. Jake grabbed it and placed it into his jean’s pocket. There was also a black holdall that hadn’t been emptied. He swiped up the loose clothes on the sofa. Sean’s toys. Tears filled his eyes. He held the fluffy bear up to his nose. Jake couldn’t do this now. The fridge had a half bottle of white wine and a carton of milk which they’d brought with them when they first arrived. He left both behind. Jake had no alternative but to take the same route back. Again, the roads were empty. He moved slower than usual, keeping a lookout. Not wanting the attention. The petrol station sign lighting the darkened road on his right-hand side. Circular signs appearing, warning of the speed limit. Jake slowed as he approached the hit and run scene. He was sure it would have been cleared by now.
The car was still on its side in the ditch. He drove past it and pulled over to the side of the road.
As he opened the door and stepped out, a car blasted its horn making Jake jump back. His heart was pounding, the road now quiet and he worried the driver was going to ambush him. Jake didn’t need to get into a fight but had to see what was going on. He checked to make sure the road was clear and walked over towards the Jeep. He was panicking. Shivering due to the late night and the bitter cold. He needed to be at home, with his wife and son, sat on the sofa in front of the warm fire, instead of out here. As he approached the car, he pulled down his sleeve over his arm and hoisted the driver’s door open.
He leapt back; fear had paralysed his body. Suddenly, he couldn’t move. He tried to lift his leg, move it back. Step away. Nothing was happening. He let out a whimper. Then cried out. ‘No, no, no. This isn’t happening. It can’t be.’
Both the driver and his wife were in the car. The man had a knife rammed into the front of his throat; it was still there. His wife had another one stuck in the side of her neck.
Jake waited. Contemplated what to do. He had to get out of there. Whoever had done this, could be here now. Jake may get the blame. He’d spend the rest of his life behind bars. No parole. Never see Kate and Sean again. It couldn’t happen. He wouldn’t let it happen.
He can’t wait here.
The blood returned to his legs. He could move them again.
He turned and sprinted back to his car. Then pulled out onto the road.
On the drive back to Rectory Lane, Jake couldn’t shake the elderly couple from his head. When he’d left them on the side of the road, they were fine, a cut, whiplash, but nothing major.
Now they’d been stabbed to death. The bike coming down the hill. He saw it pull over. Whoever it was, must have killed them and then sped off. The bike had passed Jake at the petrol station. The only answer Jake could come up with, they were trying to frame him. Make out he killed them. Playing with him. Wanting to get Jake put away. Out of the equation. He knew they’d go to any length. They’d done it before. The Prescotts. They lived at the house on Rectory Lane and were now missing. Whoever is behind this, are also trying to get Jake and his family out.
He thought about Jason, Mark’s brother, trying to get information. Found hanged. Too much of a coincidence. Look how they dealt with the waitress! Karen Prescott. She could be next. If they’re after Jake, and are possibly behind the death of Karen’s husband, why wouldn’t they now kill Karen? She was in trouble. He had to talk to her. Warn her what’s happening.
He pulled into the drive, locked the car, the gates and headed inside. He felt vulnerable. The house had never felt so huge now he was here alone. No Sean jumping on the sofa, running around in circles in the living room. The sound of his erratic laughter filling the air. Kate. Oh, Kate. How he missed her. His beautiful lady. His best friend and lover. Too much emotion thinking about them. Longing. Jake picked up the picture of the three of them when they went to the lake recently. The great day they’d had. Sean pulling a wide grin. Kate with that sultry smile. Jake holding the camera at arms-length. A selfie now captured in a plain wooden frame. He touched both faces with the tip of his right index finger. Tears streamed from his big brown eyes; he couldn’t stop them. Couldn’t control the feeling of emptiness. A bottomless hole he felt he was falling into. No parachute. Harness. Just falling further and further down.
Jake was quickly brought back to the present by a bang from upstairs. Like a wardrobe falling against his bed. He grabbed a saucepan from the kitchen. The only thing he could think of. Jake raced up the stairs. Hugo stood halfway down the hall, a pair of socks in his mouth – looking guilty. ‘Oh boy, you frightened me. Come on, let’s get you fed.’ Hugo followed Jake back down.
After putting Kate’s phone on charge, he fed himself and the dog. Then settling down at the table, he went back online and quickly found breaking news on social media describing the double murder.
Police, ambulance crew and members of the public are in shock this evening over the murder of two Ramsbury residents. Brian Cradshaw, eighty-three and his wife, Marcia, aged eightyone, were found at around 9.30 p.m. on the A38. Both had been brutally stabbed to death. It’s not yet known what the motive is and why these two, elderly people were murdered. The police are asking for anyone who was in the area this evening to come forward to help in assisting with their inquiry. Anyone with information can be assured it will be treated with the strictest of confidence. Brian and Marcia had been married for sixty-four years and have three children and four grandchildren. The family were unavailable to speak with, but the police have asked the public to respect their privacy at th
is extremely difficult time. A witness, who has chosen to remain anonymous, said the car was turned over in a ditch. They arrived on the scene and parked up to see if they could help. The witness went on to add that the body bags were stained with wet liquid which led them to believe there had been some sort of brutal attack. The police quickly ushered them out of the area. There will be an update as soon as new information is available.
Exhaustion hit him like a hammer. He needed to rest. Leaving his plate on the table, he grabbed Kate’s phone to charge upstairs and went to bed, Hugo hot on his heels.
He eyed the alarm clock 12.43 a.m. and reached forward to grab Kate’s ringing phone but just missed the call. Withheld number displayed. Looking at the call log, there were several more missed calls from withheld numbers. His mind whirling, he didn’t know if it was a blessing that he could get into her phone with his thumbprint. Why hadn’t she told him about the missed calls? Another piece to an ever-expanding jigsaw. Jake lay back down. A few minutes later, the phone rang again. ‘Hello. Who is this?’
‘I know what you did.’ Jake sat up.
‘Who the hell is this? What are you talking about?’ The connection clicked off.
It rang again a couple of minutes later.
‘Hello.’
‘I know what you did. The old couple in the car.’
‘Who is this?’
‘Stand at your window and you’ll find out.’ The phone again clicked off. Jake froze. He didn’t know the voice. Didn’t know who would be calling at this time. How could they know what had happened? The motorcycle guy? He was the only one that could know. But how could he have Kate’s number? Unless … He had his family. He had taken Kate and Sean. And now, he was outside his house. He leapt out of bed and pulled back the curtains and saw the back of a black Jeep speeding down the lane towards town. He couldn’t make out the plate, or who was in the vehicle. Shaken, Jake turned and went down to the kitchen. After he demolished two pints of water, he made his way down the drive and stood in the middle of Rectory Lane.