Concrete Evidence; Crime Book 6 (Detective Alec Ramsay Crime Mystery Suspense Series)

by Conrad Jones

  The British detectives had done a good job. Their killer had obviously been to Benidorm and he hadn’t come for a holiday. He had come to Jose’s city to ply his evil trade and he was mocking the police. He was a devout catholic and he thought that posing the victim was hideous. It was sacrilege; no respect for the victim in life and even less in death. Jose made the sign of the cross on his chest and took the crucifix that he wore around his neck between his finger and thumb and placed it to his lips. He shone the torch at the floor and saw two metal steps, which made it easier to climb into the campervan. He put his left foot onto the step and used the doorframe to pull himself inside. The vehicle rocked with his weight and he heard the rusty suspension springs creaking. As he looked around a sense of dread filled him. Whatever evil had dwelled there had left its presence. In the enclosed space, he could feel the desperation that the victim must have felt. It pervaded the very air that he was breathing. The torchlight picked out stainless steel tools on the dressing table. A scalpel, hooks, picks and bone saws glinted in the torchlight. They were caked in dried blood from a long time ago, years he guessed. He tried to ignore the skull’s reflection in the mirror. Its ceaseless grin made his hands tremble. A glass container caught his eye and he picked up a large jar that was next to the skull and held the torch to it. The liquid inside was brown like vinegar and the contents were floating freely. He shook it to get a better view and an eye floated against the glass. It stared accusingly at him. Behind it was a lump of furred pinkish flesh, which was unmistakably a tongue. Jose slammed the jar down in a panic and backed away from it as if the contents would jump out and attack him. He tripped over a discarded can and nearly lost his footing. Jose swore beneath his breath and staggered to one side of the camper, as far from the jar as he could. He leaned against the wall and wiped sweat from his eyes with the back of his hand. His weight caused the balance of the vehicle to shift. The camper creaked and tilted to one side. He heard a metallic ‘click’ and then a metallic rolling noise from above the cab and deep inside the living space he saw a green LED light switch on.

  *******************************

  Becky felt the tape cracking above her wrist but she still couldn’t move her hands. She took a few deep breaths to calm her nerves. Sweat trickled from her temples as she began to rub the bindings once more. The rough metal was grating against her skin and she felt blood running from her right wrist across her palm and down her fingers. It was acting as an unwanted lubricant but she ignored the dull pain and carried on. Another strand cracked and split spurring her on. She closed her eyes and took her mind to another place as she continued to grind her arms against the metal. There was a ripping sound as a layer was cut, then another snap as the layer beneath was severed. She flexed her muscles painfully and she could twist her arms an inch. She gritted her teeth and increased the speed and the pressure. The weld ripped through the tape and her flesh with equal distain. Tears formed in her eyes and she gave one last Goliath effort. She closed her eyes again and felt the salty liquid running down her cheeks as she pumped her arms against the metal struts relentlessly. Another crack. Another strand split. Another crack and the next layer of tape gave way. She felt it ripping and tearing. Her wrists could move and rotate and then with a last snapping noise, her hands were free.

  Becky felt the blood returning into her shoulders and arms as she brought them in front of her. She rubbed her wrists and clasped her fingers together to aid the circulation. Adrenalin coursed through her veins and she felt a surge of energy pulsing through her muscles. She had to control her breathing again and take stock of what she needed to do next. Tugging at the tape around her ankles, she quickly realised that undoing it would waste valuable minutes. She looked around at the contents of the van. There was something bulky in the corner to her left and the dark circular window at the centre told her that it was a washing machine. She reached out to her right and grabbed at a strip of angled metal that was rattling against the floor. It looked like a piece of shelving of some kind. Maybe the van belonged to an odd job man or a scrap dealer, not that it mattered but her inquisitive detective’s brain was working overtime.

  She slipped the angle iron beneath the tape and used it in a sawing action. The tape ripped easily and within thirty seconds, her legs were free. She felt like screaming with frustrated delight but her dilemma wasn’t over just yet. Becky searched for her handbag even though it was highly unlikely that her kidnapper would have put it in the back of the van with her. She cursed as she remembered that her mobile had been in her hand when she was zapped. As she felt around, there was no sign of her bag.

  She crawled towards the back doors on her hands and knees and stumbled into a cardboard box. She searched inside and felt crockery. Cups and plates and a couple of old vases. “Brick-a-brack is just what I need,” she murmured to herself. She had to keep her spirits high. “Maybe he’s taking me to a car boot sale.” She pulled the box out of the way and scrambled to the doors. Grabbing the internal handle, she twisted with all her might but it wouldn’t budge. She was locked inside.

  Becky felt her way along the side of the van and fumbled around at the contents. She felt an old golf bag with a couple of clubs in it. The side pocket held four golf balls and some tees. Next to it was an ironing board and a basket full of material. She couldn’t see exactly what it was but guessed it was curtains. It seemed to be a random load from a house clearance or something similar. There was no sign of her handbag.

  Her heart sank but she searched on and when she couldn’t find anything to help her open the doors, she went through her coat pockets as an afterthought. When her hand touched the familiar shape of her Blackberry, she could have cried. Her breath stuck in her chest as she took it out and looked at it. Could it be her phone? Would her kidnapper have been so stupid? She was scared that it might be a mirage or that it might turn out to be a bar of chocolate or something equally useless. She was convinced it was a Blackberry and when she took it out, she knew that it was. She clicked on the light and her eyes could hardly make sense of it until she noticed the screensaver. It wasn’t her Blackberry. She was as confused as she was pleased. Her head couldn’t compute what had happened. It was a Blackberry but it wasn’t hers.

  Becky frowned and scrolled through the numbers and quickly realised that she had picked up the DI’s phone by mistake. Her own phone was in her hand when the kidnapper struck. She must have picked up the DI’s phone and put it into her coat pocket as she had left work. If ever there was a mistake to make, it was that one. She continued to scroll down until she recognised the number for the MIT office. She closed her eyes and said a silent prayer of thanks as she pressed dial.

  ************************

  Jose was rattled to the core by his discovery. He felt ice cold to his bones as he looked from the severed eyeball to the green light. He was confused and frightened by his discovery but not by the light. Bespoke campervans would have been manufactured by skilled coach-fitters. It would be full of appliances and gadgets to make a camping trip as homely as possible. The light didn’t concern him as much as the contents of the jar had. He picked up the torch and turned it towards the source of the light. He could see there was an inverter and some wires. He followed the wires, which ran into three green plastic containers. Jose recognised them as five gallon petrol canisters. He frowned and wondered why anyone would wire them to an inverter but before he could fathom it out; the heater coils reached ignition temperature and the fuel exploded. He tried to scream but as he opened his mouth the flames scorched the soft flesh of his trachea and lungs silencing him. The inferno engulfed him in a millisecond. As his flesh blistered and sizzled, he felt evil touch his soul.

  *****************************

  “Major Investigation Team, DS Stirling speaking.”

  “Sarge, I’m in trouble.” Becky whispered. “I’ve been kidnapped!” she said feeling very frightened and a little bit stupid. She didn’t feel as if she had said it in the right way but then how
should she have said it? In the end, she had just blurted out. “Can you hear me, Sarge?”

  “Is that you, Becky?” Jim Stirling said yawning. He rubbed his eyes and sat back in the chair confused by what she had said.

  “Yes, it’s me!” she whispered. “I’ve been kidnapped, Sarge.” Her voice cracked with emotion. “I’m not joking around, I’m serious. I was zapped with something, a Taser I think, maybe a cattle prod but the bastard got me from behind.” She began to ramble. Just knowing that her sergeant was on the end of the call made her feel better. It gave her hope. “I thought that I heard something behind me but when I looked around I couldn’t see anyone.”

  “Slow down, Becky,” Stirling sat forward and frowned. He waved a hand at Annie and summoned her over. Sensing that something was happening, some of the other detectives followed her and listened in. “Where are you, Becky?”

  “I don’t know. All I know is that I’m in the back of a van,” she said meekly. “God, I feel so bloody stupid!”

  “What’s going on?” Annie asked. She could tell by the expression on Sterling’s face that something untoward was happening.

  “It’s Becky, Guv,” he covered the mouthpiece. “She says that she’s been kidnapped.” Stirling pointed to another handset and gestured for her to pick it up and press the party line. Annie heard it click and connect. “The DI is on the line, Becky,” he said calmly. “Now take a deep breath, calm down and tell us exactly what has happened.”

  Becky closed her eyes and took a breath. She released it slowly and explained in a whisper. “I drove home and when I was putting the key in the door, someone whacked me from behind,” she paused. “He Tasered me I think.”

  “Jesus,” Annie said. She was concerned and equally confused. “Where are you calling from?”

  “Your mobile, Guv,” she said embarrassed. “I must have picked it up from the desk by mistake. Sorry, Guv.”

  “Don’t be sorry,” Annie shook her head. Putting her hand over the mouthpiece, she turned to one of her team. “Get a trace on my phone now!” he turned and ran to his desk. “Where are you now, Becky?”

  “I’m in the back of a white van. At least it’s white inside but I have no idea what make or model it is.”

  “Did you see your attacker?”

  “No,” Becky said frustrated. “I felt a whack from behind and the next thing I know I was tied up in the back of this van.”

  “You’ve broken free?”

  “Yes, Guv.”

  “Good girl,” Annie said shaking her fist. “Are you hurt?”

  “A few cuts and bruises but I’m okay.”

  “That’s good. Have you got any idea how long you have been in there?”

  “Not really,” Becky thought out loud. “I reckon it took me twenty minutes to cut the tape off.”

  “Was the van travelling the entire time?”

  “Yes.”

  Annie covered the mouthpiece again. “Forty mile radius to begin with.” Her detectives nodded. “Okay,” Annie said thoughtfully. “Becky, Is there anything that you can use as a weapon?”

  “I’ve got a piece of angled iron in my hand,” Becky gripped it tightly. “I used it to cut my feet free. It’s heavy enough to do some damage.”

  “Good. Keep hold of it. Can you tell if you’re in the city or moving away from it?” Annie asked.

  “I don’t really know.”

  “Is the van travelling at a constant speed or is it stop starting?”

  “Constant.”

  “Hold on there, Becky,” Annie said. She turned to look at Stirling. “Let’s check how long it will take to get the trace on my phone immediately,” she paused, “and get an alert to traffic on the main motorways out of the city, M62, M6, M56, M57 and get armed response here and in all the surrounding counties on standby.”

  “Guv,” Stirling said calling over another detective who was listening. “And get a list of all vans that have been stolen in the last week. Let’s start with white vans for now.”

  “Yes, Sarge.”

  “Becky,” Stirling spoke slowly, “is there anything in the back of the van?”

  “Yes,” she muttered looking around. “There’s a washing machine and some metal bars, some golf clubs and boxes full of crap. I didn’t want to move around too much in case he hears me.”

  “Have you checked the doors?”

  “Of course I have,” Becky said frustrated. “I’m not stupid.”

  “I know you’re not, Becky but I need to ask. We need to understand everything that is happening to help you, okay,” Stirling calmed her. “I want you to find something hard enough to jimmy the bottom of the doors, okay?” A beep interrupted the line. “What was that?”

  “The battery,” Annie said. “My phone was nearly dead. I meant to charge it. How many bars have you got, Becky?”

  Becky felt a lump in her throat as she looked at the screen. “Less than two.”

  “We’ve got at least fifteen minutes, Becky,” Annie said. “That’s more than enough time for us to find out where you are, okay?”

  “Okay. Are you running a trace?”

  “Yes,” Annie said. “We’ll have a lock on it before the battery runs out.”

  “Okay.”

  “Becky,” Stirling said, “you said there were metal bars in the van?”

  “Yes. I think they’re old railings or something.”

  “Good. Grab one and stand near the back doors.”

  “Okay,” Becky gasped. She crawled to the bars that she had felt earlier and picked them up to gauge their weight and density. One of them was heavier than the others. She picked it up and shuffled towards the doors. “Okay, I’m at the doors.”

  “Good,” Stirling said. “The door with the handle on is the weak point. Try and slide the metal between the bottom of the door and the van. I want you to bend the corner open if you can.”

  “I’ll try,” Becky whispered. “I’ll have to put the phone down a minute, okay?”

  “Okay. I need you to force the bar in as far as you can and the pull back as hard as you can.”

  Becky hesitated before putting the phone down. She didn’t want to stop talking but she knew that she had to. Kneeling down close to the door, she placed the bar at the bottom of the door and pressed her weight on it. The door moved a few millimetres from the van but not enough to wedge the metal between them. She wiggled it and tried again but it wouldn’t budge. “Shit!” she hissed and picked up the Blackberry. “I can’t get it in, I feel so bloody useless,” she said close to tears.

  Annie sensed the panic in her voice. “Take a breath, Becky. Jim seems to forget that we’re not all built like a brick outhouse,” she smiled and felt Becky relax a little. “Put your foot against the bottom of the door and try again. Take your time.”

  “Okay.” Becky sounded determined. She placed the phone on the floor and put her foot against the corner of the door. She could see light between the narrowest of gaps and she forced the bar a couple inches into it. Becky pulled back with all her strength and the corner of the door buckled an inch. Fresh air streamed into the van and she could hear the sound of traffic. She forced the bar even further into the gap and then she pulled backwards using all her weight to jimmy the door. The gap widened to six inches and she pulled again. Her hands slipped off the bar and she fell backwards clattering into the box of plates. The metal bar sprang back against the door with an almighty clang.

  The van slowed immediately. Becky held her breath. She heard him turn the music down as the vehicle slowed to a steady pace. She felt the van move across a lane and prayed that he didn’t pull over and stop. She could hear her own breathing and the blood pounding through her head was deafening. She lay perfectly still, frozen in fear. The driver had slowed down but the van was still moving. Becky felt for the Blackberry blindly but all she touched was cold metal. She reached further to her right and her fingers brushed against the phone. She felt the van accelerate again and the driver turned the music up to its p
revious volume.

  Becky breathed a sigh of relief and put the phone to her ear. “Guv,” she whispered. She waited for a reply. “Sarge, are you there?” Nothing. “Guv!” she whispered louder. Nothing. “Sarge, can you hear me?” She looked at the screen and her breath stuck in her throat. She felt tears forming in her eyes. “Oh no!” It was cracked from one side to the other. The keyboard was crushed and an impression of a shoeprint was stamped across it. The only sign of life was a dull green glow from behind the fractured screen. “Oh, no!” Becky hissed. Her heart felt like it would punch its way through her chest. She felt that she was about to vomit. “Oh, God no!” Her mind was racing as she thought about what she had done. She thought that the phone trace might have been completed but it was just as likely that it hadn’t. She wondered if the sim was still traceable even after a donkey had cracked the screen. She felt useless and helpless in equal measures. A twist of fate had given her a lifeline, which she would be eternally grateful for. Squashing it wasn’t in the plan. She covered her eyes with her hands and stifled a sob. “Get a grip, Rebecca,” she whispered to herself. She couldn’t afford to break now. She had to be strong. “Pull yourself together and do something.”

  Becky thought back to the phone call. Jim Stirling wanted her to bend the bottom of the door. He hadn’t said why precisely but she had to assume that it was to make it stand out from all the other vans on the motorway. She had to attract attention to the van. She wasn’t sure if the buckled door would work quickly enough. She knew that the DI would have alerted the traffic division but no one had a clue which motorway she was on or in which direction she was being taken. She might not even be on a motorway; there were plenty of dual carriageways encircling the city. She could be on any number or them. The sergeant wanted her to attract attention to the van and that’s what she intended to do.