To Catch a Rabbit

by Helen Cadbury

  ‘Thank you,’ Florence said, and stroked Holly’s hair until the little girl relaxed and began to trace her finger over the picture of the actress.

  The air smelled of burning tyres and the wind carried voices from the yard. Sean wondered if there was another way out of the barn. If they could let the little girl run safely back to the house, they could disappear into the fields. Or he could disappear. He didn’t think Florence would be able to move fast enough, but he didn’t want to think about her spending another night in here, with no glass in the windows.

  He stood up slowly. The pain in his arm and the long hours without food made him dizzy. He blinked and waited until his vision cleared. Then he stepped into the slurry channel and began to explore the barn again. Apart from the small door he had come through, which opened in the shorter wall, there was also a large double door on the longer side of the barn. He pushed it gently but nothing moved. It seemed to be locked from the outside. As far as he could work out, the barn was at such an angle that the large door opened directly on to the yard. The smaller door was around the corner, but he would still have to run fast to get out of view of anyone who was near the burning car. He looked at the vehicles. The old tractor was useless. He peeled the corner of the tarp away from the rectangular box, hoping it might be a van of some kind. Peeling cream paint gave way to a metal shuttered hatch. The last few letters of a sign were visible. MENTS. He lifted the tarpaulin up higher; it was Su-Mai’s catering trailer. He tried to focus. Burger and Stubbs had brought him to meet Mackenzie, so this was his farm, his barn. He looked at the car, tucked behind the trailer. The registration plates were missing.

  Sean thought about that day in the lay-by, the girl folded in on herself, the wind catching her hair. Just a straightforward smack OD. Why would anyone want to hide the trailer? Probably because it belonged to them, and they didn’t want it left behind as evidence. If Mackenzie had hidden the trailer here, then he could have been Su-Mai’s pimp. The fuzziness in Sean’s head was beginning to clear but he was struggling to see why Mackenzie wanted to know where Arieta was, although of course, he was probably her pimp too. A caravan on the edge of a quarry was the new opportunity she’d told Maureen about. But then Mackenzie had taken a young girl to Stella Stubbs. Was he working with her? Or was he coaxing girls away from her and setting up his own franchise? In the middle of all this was Lee Stubbs, dealing fatal amounts of heroin.

  ‘Young man?’ Florence Moyo called across to him. ‘Can you smell it? Burning?’

  ‘Yes, it’s the tyres.’

  ‘No. A new smell.’

  She was trying to stand up. The little girl held on around her legs. She was right. It was different smell, something acrid that caught in your throat.

  ‘That’s petrol!’Sean spun round to work out where it was coming from.

  ‘Look!’ Florence pointed at the double barn door. The tongues of tiny flames were licking underneath.

  A massive surge of adrenalin cleared Sean’s vision and numbed the pain. He had to live. He understood what had happened, what had been happening all along. He couldn’t die now and he couldn’t let Holly or the pregnant woman die either.

  ‘It’s going to be all right. I’m going to get you out of here.’ He turned back to the looming shape of the new tractor, its wheels like the shoulders of an elephant.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  The afternoon light was starting to fade as Charlie turned off the road on to the farm drive. Ahead of them there was a glow in the sky. Soon they could see a cluster of barns and a small farmhouse lit by a fire in the centre of a yard. There was a loud bang, followed by a plume of black smoke.

  ‘Petrol tank. Someone torching a car.’

  Charlie made it sound almost normal, but this wasn’t joyrider country. Something was going on. Karen had been hoping to talk to Stacey on her own, while Charlie dealt with Mackenzie, but there were figures running across the yard. Charlie turned the headlights off and carried on driving. He stopped the car on a grass verge, just outside the entrance. The gate was hooked open.

  ‘CCTV.’ Charlie said. ‘The camera’s angled on the gate itself, with any luck it hasn’t picked us up.’

  ‘If they’re even looking. Sounds like they’ve got other things to worry about.’

  They could hear male voices shouting. Charlie took her hand and led her close to the hedge and around the gatepost. From there they had a better view of the remains of a burning vehicle and three men, all shouting at each other, none of them looking their way. They went closer. A large, red-faced man turned and stared, open-mouthed at Charlie, who had produced his warrant card, and was using it to fan the black smoke away from his face as he walked forward.

  ‘Who the fuck…?’ The fat one started, and Karen recognised him. The big copper from Doncaster Central, what had Sean called him? Burger, that was it. One of the figures backed away into the shadows; it was unmistakably Johnny Mackenzie and she was pretty sure it was Charlie he was trying to avoid. The other guy was younger, skinny and jittery. He was dancing on the spot, looking from Burger to the car and back to Charlie, as if he was trying to work out whether to run or fight.

  ‘King isn’t it? My name’s DCI Moon. Is everything all right?’

  ‘Pleased to meet you.’ Although it didn’t sound like he meant it. ‘All under control here, just an unlucky accident.’

  ‘Where did Mackenzie go?’ Charlie peered through the smoke. There was a movement over by a large wood and brick-built barn. Someone was moving along the side of the building. Whoever it was, was carrying a heavy object in their hands, bending at intervals as if they were pouring something on the ground.

  ‘Looks like a petrol can,’ Charlie said. ‘Jesus Christ, he’s going to set light to the barn!’

  The young guy let out a sound like a banshee wail. Karen couldn’t tell if it was pain or pleasure. She expected King to react but he just stood there, watching, as Mackenzie stood back from the barn and threw something at the liquid. It puffed up immediately into a flame, which licked along the ground, re-tracing his route until it reached a high double door at the front and tore up the wood.

  Charlie ran towards Mackenzie, who dodged him and disappeared through a gap between the farm buildings.

  King made no move. He just stood and watched. She pulled out her phone and he turned towards her, hand outstretched.

  ‘I’ll take that.’

  ‘What? Why?’

  He didn’t answer.

  ‘Give ‘im your bloody phone! Shall I make ‘er Uncle Barry?’ The skinny boy jostled her elbow and she instinctively fended him off.

  Still the police officer didn’t react. Why did the boy call him Uncle? She couldn’t see Charlie any more and the flames were taking hold around the wooden sides of the barn. She judged that the distance between where she was standing and the farmhouse was about fifty metres. She could outrun King if she had to, but she wasn’t sure about the skinny one. He made a grab for her arm and she dodged him, nearly slipping in the mud. She turned and made a dash for it.

  There was a light on in the farmhouse kitchen and through the window she could see Stacey sitting at a table, an empty bottle of wine next to her. Karen burst through the door and slammed it behind her.

  ‘Call the fire brigade, Stacey, the barn’s on fire!’ A television was on in one corner, the volume turned high. Stacey stirred from a deep sleep, oblivious to the car on fire or the shouting in the yard. The door was opening, Karen leaned her back against it but she couldn’t hold it.

  ‘Holly,’ Stacey got up, rubbing her eyes. ‘Where’s Holly? She went to check on her rabbit.’

  As Karen hit 999 on her phone, Stacey pushed her aside. She opened the door and the skinny boy fell in. Karen ran deeper into the house, looking for a door, any door with a lock on it. Where the hell was the toilet?

 
‘Emergency services. What service do you require?’

  ‘Police, fire.’ She was in the dark hallway, a staircase on her left. She took the stairs two at a time. Somewhere ahead of her a dog was barking.

  ‘What is your location?’

  She tried a door on the landing, Holly’s room, no use, she tried the next. There were footsteps on the stairs and a door banged. She heard the policeman calling from the kitchen: ‘Lee! Leave her to me!’

  ‘Hello?’ the operator kept saying. ‘What is your location?’

  Here was the dog, Marvin, jumping up, trying to lick her face. It looked like she was in the master bedroom. She prayed they had an ensuite bathroom.

  ‘A farm, Moorsby-on-Humber.’ What was the address? ‘Exchange something…’

  ‘I’m sorry, can you repeat that?’

  A door in the bedroom led to a bathroom. She and the dog were inside. She closed the door and pushed the flimsy bolt into place and put all her weight against it.

  ‘Labour. Exchange Labour.’ She was breathing heavily. ‘It’s a business address, near Moorsby-on-Humber, a farm. Tell them to go to The Volunteer Arms, take the smaller road at the crossroads, then after half a mile, turn left, keep going, I don’t know, after another quarter of a mile maybe, there’s the farm drive. Go to the top of that.’ A thump against the door. ‘And get a message to who ever is in charge at Doncaster Central, that one of their officers, a detective called King, is here, but there’s something wrong.’

  ‘You’re saying there’s already an officer on the scene?’

  ‘Yes, two, but one’s behaving weirdly, really weirdly. Please, hurry up!’

  Another thud and Marvin let off a round of frantic barks. Then someone coughing and a voice that sounded half strangled.

  ‘Jesus,’ King spluttered. ‘Fucking dog hairs, get me out of here!’

  He was gasping for air. The boy mumbled, too low for her to hear, and then their voices seemed to be moving away. She strained to hear beyond the house, praying for the sound of distant sirens.

  It was quiet in the bedroom. Karen drew the bolt across and eased the door open a crack. There was nobody there. She crept to the window. Outside the car was almost burnt out; just two small fires remained, under the front and rear axles. The tyres had collapsed unevenly and it sat at a drunken angle. Flames were licking up the sides of the barn. Stacey stood in the middle of the yard, her mouth open in a scream, but Karen couldn’t hear her because the window was rattling in its frame. When she opened it, she realised that some sort of engine was causing a powerful, rumbling vibration. From much further away the wail of sirens was just audible, fading in and out on the wind, but the rumbling noise was coming from the barn. With a loud crash, the double doors bent outwards, splintered in the centre and fell open. A tractor as high as a lorry drove through the flames and into the yard. In its cab she could see a man, a woman and a child.

  Marvin got her legs up on to the windowsill and shoved her nose out of the window. She sniffed the bitter air and barked at the huge tractor. Just then, another vehicle moved away from behind a low shed at the back of the yard. It was a black Range Rover and its only way out was between the tractor and the burning car. Just as it looked as if the car was going to make it, the tractor lurched forward and clipped the rear of the driver’s side, sending the Range Rover spinning on the muddy concrete. The front end smashed into the back of the burning car. Immediately the driver’s door flew open and Mackenzie ran out. Stacey caught him. She had him by the shoulders and was shaking him, pointing up at Holly in the tractor cab. The Range Rover now had flames pouring out of the bonnet and a yellow glow behind its tinted windows.

  Mackenzie started running, not towards the house but into the pre-fab office. Stacey followed him. Karen knew she had to stop them. She ran out of the bedroom and down the stairs, the dog nearly tripping her up in its excitement. Where was Charlie? And where the hell were Burger and the skinny guy? The kitchen was clear. As she reached the yard, there was Holly, hand in hand with a heavily pregnant African woman, walking towards the kitchen door. Karen stopped. It was Florence Moyo. Behind her limped PCSO Sean Denton, torn bits of tape flapping off his clothes. She wasn’t sure what to do now, but Sean had a look in his eyes that made the decision for her.

  ‘Stop Mackenzie!’ she shouted. ‘He’s going to destroy the office.’

  He turned and ran, while she led the other two, and Marvin, back inside and locked the kitchen door firmly behind them. Florence sat down heavily and rested her head in her hands.

  ‘Mrs Moyo, what are you doing here?’

  The other woman began to cry, silently. Tears running down her face and on to the wooden table. Eventually she started to speak.

  ‘My husband found a job with this man, Mackenzie. There was work for me and my daughter too. I was cleaning, and she was going to be caring for old people. We lied about her age and her qualifications, I’m so sorry, but we had to get money. Was that wrong?’

  Karen shook her head. ‘Where is she? Where’s Elizabeth?’

  ‘I don’t know. Mackenzie takes my daughter, he says it is to a care home. My husband says at first the other men, the men he works with, just give him looks. Then they are smirking and laughing, making disgusting jokes. One man, a Polish one, he is kind, takes my husband to one side and tells him, there is no care home.’

  Her head sank back into her hands and she began to cry again. Holly crept up to her and stroked her arm.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Sean didn’t think he’d ever seen so many blue lights. If only they wouldn’t all flash out of sequence, it was making his head hurt. There were three fire engines working on the barn and a single firefighter with a hose extended towards the two cars, nudged together like smouldering wreckage in a war zone. The ambulance was standing by and two paramedics were with the pregnant woman in the farmhouse. Lizzie said he should get them to check he didn’t have any more glass in his skin. She was picking over his head like his nan used to check for nits, but more gently. As her fingertips stroked through his hair, he didn’t want her to stop. He almost let himself believe that her tenderness meant something, but then he remembered that combing for evidence was her job. He was sitting on a little stone platform with steps up to it. Lizzie said it was an old mounting block from the days when ladies rode sidesaddle. She seemed to know a lot about it. Lizzie Morrison riding ponies as a teenager was an image he was going to have trouble wiping from his mind.

  ‘Tip your head a bit this way, so it’s in the light.’

  Someone had found the switch to override the movement sensor on Mackenzie’s security system and this side of the yard was lit up like a football pitch. He watched Rick Houghton stroll across from where he’d been talking to DCI Moon. Behind them Sean could make out Mackenzie’s miserable features in the rear seat of one of the police Volvos.

  ‘All right, Lizzie,’’ Rick was saying, ‘if you’ve finished playing Florence Nightingale, as soon as the fire brigade say it’s safe, get yourself into the barn. It’s a crime scene for at least two live cases.’

  ‘Three,’ Sean said. ‘I think it might be three.’

  Back-up had arrived just as Sean was rugby-tackling Mackenzie to the floor of his office. He’d caught him unawares, apparently trying to find his lighter. Nobody had known what to say when they saw ex-DCI Barry King and Lee Stubbs being frog-marched across the burning yard, with Charlie Moon carrying a double-barrelled shotgun behind them. Moon said he got it off Mackenzie. Sean wished he could have seen that.

  ‘We’ve had a call, about your nan. She’s all right by the way. Just a bit shaken,’ Rick said, as he tapped a cigarette out of the packet and into his palm, then glanced over at the firefighters and put it away again.

  ‘What happened?’ Sean asked.

  ‘Stubbs tied her up and threatened to set light t
o the house. They were asking about the girl, Arieta. I think they were planning to use your nan as a hostage, to get you to talk. Burger must have thought better of it and let her go, but not before he’d cut her landline, taken her phone and house keys and locked her in her own house. Carly’s with her now. She’s had the locksmith round and she’s now trying to persuade your nan to let the doctor check her over, but she says she’s fine.’

  Sean was relieved Carly was there. He knew Nan would never ask, but he was sure it would make her feel safer tonight to have someone in the house. He’d call her as soon as things calmed down here. Rick looked him over, as if he was testing to see how he was bearing up too.

  ‘All right, son?’

  ‘Right as bloody rain, mate.’

  Rick seemed satisfied with that and went over to speak to the firefighters.

  ‘All done,’ Lizzie said.

  Sean stood up. His legs felt like jelly but he wasn’t going to let on. He took a deep breath and concentrated on getting down the steps of the mounting block.

  ‘I imagine Arieta’s miles away by now,’ he said.

  ‘As it happens, she’s at North Yorkshire police HQ in York. Rick’s been there all night, questioning her,’ Lizzie said.

  ‘Right.’ He nodded numbly. He couldn’t really take it in.

  ‘And Sean,’ Lizzie lifted his chin gently, to make him look her in the eye. ‘When we get back to work, when you’re fit again, I’ve got a form I want you to fill in.’

  ‘What are you on about?’

  ‘An application form, to train for the force as proper police. I’ll write you a reference. So will Rick.’