Finding Lucy

by Ernesto Lee

  The trees are densely packed, but the lantern is bright, and the girls are laughing as they walk, so it is easy to follow them.

  Around two hundred feet further on, the woods open into a clearing and one of the girls tells Eddie to light a fire. Through a gap in the trees I watch as Eddie lights a rolled-up newspaper with a match and pushes it into the bottom of a pile of tree branches and wood that was clearly prepared earlier. Within minutes the fire is burning brightly, and the girls waste no time in taunting Eddie again.

  “Go on, Eddie, show us how you raise the dead.”

  “Yes, go on, Eddie. Is it true that your mother was a witch? Go on, do the dance. Go on, Eddie, dance around the fire for us.”

  Lucy moves closer to Eddie and raises her hand to poke him in the shoulder, but Father James steps in between them and grabs her wrist.

  “That’s enough, Lucy. This has gone too far. Why are you behaving like this?”

  Joanna leaps to the defense of her sister and pulls at Father James’ shoulder. As he lets go of Lucy’s wrist his elbow inadvertently strikes Joanna in the chest and she falls to the floor with the wind knocked out of her. Eddie is momentarily torn between his loyalty to Joanna and his confusion with why they are treating him so badly, until Joanna gets back to her feet and pushes him forward.

  “What kind of man stands by and lets another man strike his girlfriend? Hit him, you bloody coward.”

  Eddie is a much bigger man and his fist sends Father Beale careering towards the fire. Lucy pulls him away from the danger, but Joanna is not satisfied and urges Eddie to carry on.

  Lucy calls out for Eddie to stop and she also appeals to Joanna to intervene, but to no avail.

  To protect him, Lucy steps in between Father Beale and Eddie, but spurred on by Joanna, Eddie is now wild eyed and has picked up a thick branch from the forest floor. Sensing the danger, Father Beale jumps aside, but it is too late for Lucy. The full force of the branch catches her in the throat, and she falls backwards into the fire.

  The night air is filled with the agonizing screams of Lucy as she is writhes in the flames and Joanna screams desperately for someone to help her sister.

  By now, the heat from the fire is so intense that Eddie and Father Beale are beaten back from each of their attempts to rescue her and they quickly realize the situation is hopeless. When Lucy’s screams finally end, Joanna falls to her knees sobbing hysterically.

  “This wasn’t meant to happen. It wasn’t meant to happen.”

  Father Beale tries to console her and asks what she means, but she stands and pushes him away. Her tears are gone and have been replaced with aggression and defiance.

  “This was your fault, both of you. Both of you are going to go to prison if you don’t do exactly as I say.”

  Eddie is completely silent and is probably in shock, but Father Beale has no intention of blindly following orders.

  “You can’t be serious, Joanna. Your sister is dead. We have to report this.”

  “You’re right, my sister is dead,” Joanna replies. “You killed her when she tried to stop seeing you. You lured her here and then you pushed her into the fire when she refused your advances. I saw it and so did Eddie.”

  The priest turns to Eddie for support, but when Eddie sees the way Joanna is looking at him, he nods and agrees with her.

  “That’s right, you killed her. We both saw you push her into the fire.”

  Realizing that it is his word against theirs his shoulders drop and, resigned to his fate, Father James reluctantly nods and asks what he should do.

  “Go back to the house with Eddie and get some shovels. We need to get this mess cleaned up and get home before it gets light.”

  Father Beale turns towards the house and Joanna orders Eddie to follow him.

  I am already running back through the woods before Joanna has finished speaking. There is no point in risking getting caught by staying around any longer. I know for sure now that Lucy is dead, I know how she died, and I have a good idea where she is going to be buried. All in all, it’s been a good trip.

  Out on the track, I retrieve the car and as soon as I am far enough away from the farmhouse, I turn the headlights on and increase my speed. It’s getting on for three in the morning and my thoughts once more return to Ben. When I spoke with him earlier today, he told me that Sergeant Cuttler had left him alone in an interview room after around an hour of questioning. Assuming that he didn’t wait for too long before hanging himself with the turtleneck, this should mean that he was long gone by now and that there is no need for me to go looking for him.

  Pleased with how tonight has gone, I reach the main road and head back towards Tyevale to find a way home. Tomorrow, we are due to meet Father Beale at eleven in the morning, but now that I know the probable location of Lucy’s body, Meadow Farm is going to be the first stop of the day.

  The night is crisp and clear and with an empty road ahead, I reach the outskirts of Tyevale in less than ten minutes. Unsurprisingly the town and the carnival are both in near complete darkness, with the only light coming from the street lamps on the high street. Feeling guilty about stealing the Cortina earlier I pull up opposite the entrance to the carnival and shut off the engine. In the morning, it will be returned to its owner and he will be none the worse for the experience other than his car having a few extra miles on the clock and a little less gas in the tank.

  With one last check of my pockets and a quick check on the seats to make sure that I haven’t left anything behind, I turn to reach for the door handle at exactly the same moment as the driver’s side door caves in and the window explodes in my face.

  The force of the collision with the other car throws me almost fully across to the passenger side and before I have a chance to react, the driver’s side door is pulled open and I’m dragged out by my jacket collar by at least two pairs of hands and a familiar voice speaks.

  “Steady on, lads, we don’t know if he is with the other one yet. He could just be a car thief.”

  Even though I am probably concussed and there is blood in my eyes, I can recognize the voice of Sergeant Cuttler. It seems like he is referring to Ben, but his words fall on deaf ears. I fall heavily to the ground and the hands on my collar are replaced by a shoe pressing down on my throat.

  “I doubt that very much, Sergeant. These bastards always work in twos or threes. How many cars do you have stolen in this town anyway? Not so many I’m guessing. No, my guess is that this lad was coming back to pick his mate up.”

  Then looking down to me, he added, “Isn’t that right, Paddy?”

  Unable to answer with the foot on my throat, I am pulled to my feet and a handkerchief or something similar is wiped across my face to clear the blood out of my eyes. Along with Sergeant Cuttler, I am being held by two other men.

  Both are stereotypical 1970s special branch and would not have been out of place in an episode of The Sweeney or The Professionals. Both have non-regulation hair and moustaches and even in the dark, the outline of their holsters is clear under their almost matching black leather jackets.

  The taller of the two reaches forward to search me while the other keeps a firm hold on my jacket. Other than my watch and my wallet containing some cash, I literally just have the clothes I am wearing, so I am not overly worried until he pulls out my can of CS gas spray.

  Immediately both officers draw their weapons and I am forced back down onto my knees with the shorter of the pair screaming in my face.

  “What the hell is this? You had better start speaking, boy, or things are gonna go badly for you.”

  It’s written on the side of the can so unless this pair are illiterate, there is no point in lying.

  “It’s CS gas. It’s for self-defense,” I reply.

  The taller of the two guys slaps me in the face with his free hand and then kicks me in the side.

  “Shut it, you lying bastard. This is what the boys in Ireland use against the paddies when they are rioting, Sarge.”

>   When he spoke, he was referring to his colleague and not Sergeant Cuttler. So, now I know who is the more senior of the two.

  The special branch sergeant examines the side of the can and then he leans over and holds it near my face.

  “Is that where you got it? Did you take it off one of our colleagues in the Ulster Constabulary when you were throwing bricks and petrol bombs? What’s your name, fella?”

  Unbeknown to him, my interrogator has unintentionally presented me with an opportunity to make my escape. Before he can react and pull it away, I lunge for the can and pull the safety tab away from the trigger. Both special branch officers take a blast of liquid CS straight in the face, but Cuttler moves quicker than I would have expected for an old guy. He swings his baton into the back of my knees and my legs buckle beneath me.

  As I fall, I turn and aim the can at Cuttler’s face. Liquid CS burns like a bitch and he quickly drops his baton and retreats towards the town. Knowing that I only have seconds before the special branch boys can function again, I struggle to my feet and run towards the carnival entrance.

  I don’t look back to my pursuers, but I can almost feel the sights of the revolvers trained on my back. When the first bullet hits me in the shoulder, I am stunned but not surprised. The impact slows me down, but I keep running. When the second and third rounds hit me in my lower and upper back, I am already where I need to be.

  The wolfhound has signaled my arrival, but by the time my pursuers arrive, or the O’Hanlons wake up to investigate the noise, all they will find is the trail of blood leading up to the gap between the caravans where I will already have died in the shadows.

  Present Day – Friday, 20th April, 2018

  It’s only just after six in the morning, but I have already been awake for more than an hour. Last night was a real breakthrough and, conscious of how much we need to do today, I call Cath to wake her up. With no reply from her cell phone, I use the handset by my bed to call room to room. The call connects and after two rings a grumpy-sounding Cath picks up.

  “This had better be good. Who is this please?”

  “Get your ass out of bed, DC Swain, we’re going for a walk in the countryside. Jump in the shower and meet me downstairs at seven.”

  “What? Sorry, hang on, Sean. What are you talking about and what’s the time now?”

  “It’s six-twenty,” I reply. “I’ll explain everything when I see you but bring the land registry documents for Eddie Swain’s farm. You do have them, don’t you?”

  There is a short pause and then she confirms that she does.

  “Um, yes, I do. I downloaded copies when I was in Spalding.”

  “Great, I’ll see you at seven.”

  Before she has a chance to say anything else, I end the call and finish getting dressed. My plan today is to scout out possible locations for Lucy’s burial site and then to call DCI Morgan to ask for permission to initiate a search with ground-penetrating radar. I’m certain that she will be buried somewhere near to the woods where she died, and I won’t be at all surprised if it’s within the piece of land that Eddie kept hold of when he sold the rest of the farm.

  Morgan will want more than just a hunch, though, before he approves an expensive search. My dream travel is not going to cut it, but if I can get Father Beale to talk, then that might just be enough.

  This might be the leverage we need to bring Eddie and Joanna in for questioning. And if we find Joanna’s remains on Eddie’s land, it should in theory be game over.

  Something about this case is still nagging away at me, though, and it has been since my first trip back to the night of Lucy’s disappearance. On both trips, the behavior of Lucy and Joanna towards Eddie and then to Father James was both shocking and surprising.

  But more than anything else, it has felt completely premeditated and almost as if the girls were play-acting. The behavior of both girls has been disgraceful, but it’s also been inconsistent. At the carnival the sisters were almost as bad as each other. In the forest, however, it was Joanna that was encouraging Eddie to attack Father Beale and Lucy who tried to intervene to stop the fight. Without a doubt this whole thing stinks of premeditation, but not as far as the death of Lucy is concerned.

  Lucy is dead, of course, but it did look genuinely to be an accident. Joanna said it herself ‘This wasn’t meant to happen’, so the question remains, what was meant to happen? For me, this was a blackmail and extortion attempt that went too far in the wrong direction. It makes no difference, though; a young girl has been killed and it is my job to find the answers and to close the case. One way or another, today is going to be interesting.

  Cath is waiting for me next to the car and even at such an early hour, I can’t resist a sly smirk and a dig at what she is wearing.

  “Nikes and a suit, Cath. Did I forget to tell you to bring your wellies?”

  “It’s either these, or you sign off an expense claim for a pair of Jimmy Choo’s, boss. Somehow, I don’t think Morgan will approve that though. How about you let me in on what we are doing?”

  I point to the car.

  “Like I said on the phone, we’re going for a walk in the country. Come on, I’ll explain on the way. Head out towards Colevale and I’ll direct you from there.”

  Cath hands me the land registry documents and then sets a course towards Colevale.

  “So, what’s the big hurry, boss? Have you found something out?”

  It’s time to lie to my partner again. With a twinge of guilt, I reply with my prepared answer. “Just a working theory to be honest. I was looking through my notes last night and it was bugging me why Eddie would sell his farm and land so quickly, apart from just a small parcel. I’m interested to see where exactly it is and what it’s being used for now.”

  “You think that’s where she is buried, boss?” Catherine asks.

  “Yes,” I reply. “That thought had occurred to me. I can’t think of any other logical reason why he might want to hold onto the land.”

  “So, you must also believe that he was involved in her disappearance or death in some way?”

  “Don’t you?” I ask her.

  “You could be right, boss. There’s no doubt that Eddie and the PBs are hiding something.”

  Catherine points to the documents on my lap. “Take a look on the second sheet – the area that he kept hold of is highlighted in red on the plans. It looks like it’s close to where the farmhouse was, but it seems to be mostly woodland or forest. I can’t see it being used for crops or livestock.”

  I turn over the second sheet of paper and my heart starts to race. The outlined area includes exactly the spot where I saw Lucy die in the fire. The entire area covers almost three hectares, but almost the entirety of what I saw last night was densely wooded. The burial site must be somewhere in the clearing. It was nearly three in the morning when Lucy died, and Joanna was panicking about getting home before daylight. The clearing is the only logical place where she could be. We pass Colevale and I fold up the registry documents and tuck them into my jacket pocket.

  “Just slow down a bit, Cath. There should be a turn, just up here on the right.”

  Cath looks at me with a questioning look on her face and I tell her that the turn is marked on the plans.

  “I didn’t see that, but I’ll take your word for it, Sean. I never was very good with maps and plans, but then why would I be? I’m only a woman after all. Now if it was a knitting pattern, well don’t even get me started on those.”

  I ignore the obvious sarcasm and point out the turn, but Cath has already seen it. It is clearly marked with a freshly painted sign pointing the way to ‘Meadow Farm Guest House’.

  When we reach the farmhouse, we could almost be in a different place to the Meadow Farm I remember from 1972.

  The new owners have clearly spent a lot of money in extending and renovating the original building and it is now almost three times the size and has a small parking area and a well laid-out garden and patio to the front of the prop
erty. Three cars are parked up and there is a middle-aged guy smoking on the patio, but otherwise there is nobody else around.

  We park the car next to the others and, instantly regretting my words, I point out the edge of the woods, which are clearly visible from the farmhouse.

  “That must be it over there, Cath.”

  Her mock look of surprise means that coffee or no coffee, she is now wide awake and is about to punish me for stating the obvious.

  “Really, boss? Are you sure about that? I mean, it does look like a wooded area, but what if it’s just an overgrown field?”

  “Yeh, I guess I deserved that, Cath. Sorry for being a patronizing dick sometimes.”

  “That’s alright, Sean,” she replies, before adding, “I would worry if you weren’t being a dick at least once a day. I’ll forgive you, though, if you tell me that you brought bolt-cutters.”

  “Bolt-cutters?” I ask. “What for?”

  Cath points out the edge of the tree line and the fence that wasn’t there in 1972. The chain link is so badly rusted that it is almost camouflaged against the backdrop of thickly clustered trees.

  “So, what do you think that’s for? To keep something in or to keep nosey coppers out?”

  “Whatever it’s for, boss, there had better be a gate or a hole in the fence somewhere. This suit is not bloody cheap and there is no way I am going to rip a hole in it climbing over a rusty fence.”

  I make a sarcastic show of checking my pockets for a set of bolt-cutters before shrugging my shoulders and frowning.

  “Looks like you’re shit out of luck, Cath. Don’t worry, though, I’ll give you a boost over. Come on, we have work to do.”

  We set off towards the woods and the guy smoking on the patio politely nods and then goes inside after smiling at Cath’s odd pairing of a suit and running shoes. A minute later, we reach the fence. If there is a gate, then it’s certainly not on this side of the woods. I send Catherine to check left for the gate or an opening and I tell her that I will be checking on the right.