No One's Safe: DI Max Byrd & DI Orion Tanzy book 3

by C. J. Grayson

  ‘He hasn’t, no.’

  There was silence on the call for a long moment.

  ‘You there, Joan?’

  ‘Yes. Yes.’ She started to sob a little. ‘I just need to know why he never came home last night. We kind of argued and he went, saying he needed to clear his head. I went to sleep, assuming he’d be next to me when I woke this morning but he wasn’t. I’ve checked the house. He wasn’t here.’

  ‘Is his car at home?’

  ‘Yes. It’s still here,’ she replied quickly. ‘That’s the weird thing about it.’

  Tanzy fell silent in thought. ‘Let me make some calls, Joan. I’ll find him, okay?’

  ‘Thank you.’

  Tanzy hung up and called Stockdale again. It went straight to voicemail.

  63

  Sunday Night (Night Before)

  ‘Please, just tell me what’s wrong?’ Joan Stockdale said to her husband with her hands out wide, desperate to know. She had just got out of the bath and was wearing a thin, blue dressing gown. Her dark hair was damp, tied up in a loose ponytail.

  Phil was sitting at the kitchen table in a t-shirt and jogging bottoms, vacantly staring, making minimal eye contact with her. He hadn’t said much to her all day, even when she’d tried to speak to him or when Josh had tried showing him a game he was interested in, all Stockdale did was smile at him. He seemed lost, vacant.

  She wandered over, took a seat next to him, and took hold of his hand. He edged away slightly, causing her to sigh.

  ‘Please, Phil. Just tell me what’s wrong?’ she begged him.

  He stared silently at the table.

  ‘Is it the gambling again?’ she said softly. ‘Because if it is, we can get help again.’

  He considered the question for a long moment, then shook his head slowly. ‘No.’

  ‘What is it – is it work? Too much pressure?’

  Again, the question seemed to take a while to sink in. Stockdale was in a trance. Something was on his mind.

  ‘I just need to go for a walk.’ He edged out, then stopped. ‘Yeah. Work is hard at the moment. There’s a lot of shit coming down from Fuller. We have our appraisals coming up soon.’

  She smiled sadly at him.

  ‘I’m not gambling again. I promise you that.’ He found his feet. ‘I need some air. I need to get out.’

  She frowned, looked up at the kitchen clock. ‘Phil, it’s after ten… where are you walking to?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘It’ll be getting dark soon.’

  ‘I won’t be long. I just – just need some air. You go on up to bed. I’ll be up soon.’

  He stood up, grabbed a thin jacket from a hook near the back door and put it on. From the table, she watched him carefully.

  ‘I’ll wait for you to come back.’

  ‘I won’t be long, Joan.’ He left the kitchen, went down the hall, and out of the front door.

  Ten minutes after leaving the house, he found himself walking past Cockerton Green. It was quiet and still warm. The earlier heat had stuck around a little, but as the sun was almost out of sight, it had started to dip in temperature. He passed the row of shops, and crossed near Cockerton Club, then continued along the path, past the new housing development being built on, the front of it barricaded with a line of temporary metal fences stuck into grey, rectangular blocks. The houses weren’t finished but were close, waiting for the finishing touches. It amazed him how fast houses went up nowadays, especially after the foundations were laid.

  He looked right and left before crossing over Deneside Road and had a quick nose in the window of the antique shop on the corner as he passed it. He never understood how it stayed in business. He’d never seen anyone inside of it.

  Just before he reached the roundabout, a car slowed behind him and stopped. He looked to his right, hearing it slow. It was a blue Ford Focus. New model. Once it had stopped, the passenger window lowered, and inside, a man leaned towards him, his upper body over the gear stick.

  ‘Excuse me, mate,’ the man said.

  Stockdale stopped, took a few steps towards the car, and leaned over.

  ‘Can you tell me where Pierremont Road is?’

  Stockdale thought for a moment, then pointed straight ahead. ‘Take a left here and it’s literally one hundred metres on either your right or left, depending on where you need to be.’

  The man in the car smiled, then sighed. ‘I knew it was around here somewhere.’

  Stockdale frowned for a moment, realising the man looked somewhat familiar, but he couldn’t place him. His big brown, dark eyes. The large nose. He’d seen him somewhere he was sure of it.

  ‘Thanks, mate.’ The man raised the window, checked the traffic behind, and pulled out.

  Stockdale continued walking, thinking about the man. Then it clicked. He recognised him from the video from Napier Street. It was Mackenzie Dilton. He took out his phone and found Tanzy’s number, pressed CALL. It went unanswered. As Stockdale rounded the corner, approaching the tennis courts on his left, he was going to try again but noticed the Focus had stopped up on the left, just next to the park entrance, just beyond the tennis courts.

  The lights were turned off. There didn’t look like there was anyone inside.

  He looked around the car, trying to spot him.

  When he grew closer, he heard footsteps inside the park. Through the railings, he saw the man, walking along the path away from him.

  ‘Hey, wait!’ Stockdale shouted, then picked up his speed and took a left into the park, seeing him just ahead. There wasn’t much light inside the park, the high, surrounding trees blocking most of the remaining daylight.

  ‘Hey!’ he shouted again.

  The man took a right out of Stockdale’s sight.

  Stockdale broke out into a jog, focusing down the path. It got darker the further he went but he kept his eyes on the path, noticed it branched off to the right, and from where he’d last seen the man he believed was Mackenzie Dilton, assumed he’d gone that way.

  He angled right but there was no one there.

  He looked around quickly, battling the growing darkness.

  ‘Hello?’ he said, quieter this time.

  No response. The park was absolutely silent and, although he was a fixed-set man, it made him feel uncomfortable. If he was being honest, a little vulnerable. He turned around, looking behind him, and grabbed his phone, found the torch app. The light was good but not bright enough to see very far.

  ‘Where’s he gone?’ he said to himself.

  ‘Looking for me?’ he heard a whisper behind him.

  As he turned, he felt the hard impact to the side of his head; a hot, searing pain that felt like his head was on fire. With nothing he could do about it, he fell to the ground and his world went black.

  64

  Monday Afternoon

  Police Station

  Tanzy returned to the office, finding Fallows sitting on his chair next to Byrd, both reading something on his computer screen.

  ‘Stockdale’s car isn’t here,’ said Tanzy. He stopped behind them, focused on the article on the screen. It was about the ‘Earth’ murder that happened seven years ago near Essex, the case Linda Fallows had been heavily involved in. ‘What’s this?’ he asked.

  Fallows turned. ‘Just going through this article written by a local paper down our way. About the guy who was buried in the woods.’

  ‘Earth?’ asked Tanzy.

  She nodded. ‘Yup.’

  ‘Max, I’ve tried ringing Phil but it's going straight to voicemail.’

  Byrd turned, looked up at him with concern. ‘Have you spoken with his wife?’

  ‘Funny you should say that.’

  Byrd’s eyes narrowed.

  ‘She’s just rang me asking if I’d seen him.’

  Fallows stopped reading the article and turned her attention to Tanzy.

  ‘She says he went for a walk last night to clear his head. Apparently, he and his missus, Joan, argued,
then he said he needed some air. That was just after ten last night. She’d told him she was going to bed but would wait up for him. But when she woke this morning, he wasn’t there.’

  Byrd’s frown deepened. ‘Where’s his car?’

  ‘It’s at home. First thing I asked.’

  ‘Okay. Had she tried ringing him?’

  Tanzy nodded. ‘Yeah. A few times. Can’t get hold of him.’

  ‘Isn’t like him?’

  Tanzy had to agree. Fallows looked worried, wondering if his absence had something to do with Mackenzie Dilton. If he’d already gone missing, was it too late for Stockdale? Or was it something totally innocent? A logical reason why he wasn’t there and his wife hadn’t heard from him.

  The door opened behind them and DCI Fuller asked, ‘Have you found him yet?’

  ‘Who sir?’ asked Byrd.

  ‘Phil Stockdale. Cornty said he wasn’t in today. Any sign of him yet? I’m needing his report from Friday?’

  ‘I spoke with his wife,’ Tanzy said, then told him about their conversation.

  Fuller’s face changed in thought. ‘His phone goes straight to voicemail?’

  Tanzy nodded.

  ‘And no one’s seen him today, so far?’

  Tanzy shook his head. ‘I’ve checked with Lisa at reception. He hasn’t clocked on today either.’

  Fuller was about to comment on that but noticed DC Leonard dashing down the aisle towards them. Leonard looked alarmed, holding his phone out in front of him.

  ‘Sir,’ he said, addressing Byrd and Tanzy, not Fuller. ‘Look at this.’ He held his arm out to show them both his phone screen.

  Fallows stood up and joined them.

  ‘Is – is that Phil?’ asked Byrd.

  ‘It looks like it,’ said Leonard.

  ‘Where the hell is he?’

  65

  Monday Afternoon

  Police Station

  It was a video uploaded to the internet. A close-up of a man’s face.

  ‘Can we get it up on the computer?’ Tanzy asked. ‘Make it bigger?’

  Tanzy dragged the page up to see the web address, then held his finger down to copy it. He closed the app, opened his emails, and forwarded on to Byrd.

  ‘I’ve sent it,’ said Tanzy, nodding towards Byrd's desk.

  Byrd sat down at his screen, found the link, and clicked it open, tapping his foot impatiently off the floor. Tanzy, Fallows, and Fuller waited impatiently behind him.

  ‘What is it?’ Fuller asked quickly, not needing to be a detective to figure out it was something very important. He’d also heard Byrd ask if it was Phil.

  The website opened on the screen, showing a close-up of Phil Stockdale’s face, illuminated by a dim light. The camera was fixed in position. Stockdale, judging by his face, the way his skin sagged under the pull of gravity, seemed to be on his back and behind him was a dark surface that looked to be some type of fabric.

  Byrd noticed under the video the name of the uploader: RCarl20.

  ‘It’s him, isn’t it?’ Fuller said, pointing at the name.

  Fallows turned, nodded sadly.

  ‘Bastard.’ Fuller leaned forward a little to get a better view. ‘What’s he doing?’

  Stockdale was on his back, his eyes darting around as if trying to work out what was happening. His upper body rose and fell with quick breathing. Panic was clearly setting in. Whatever the reason he was there, it wasn’t out of choice.

  ‘Why is he moving like that?’ asked Fallows.

  ‘He’s tied up,’ Leonard said.

  If he was tied up, it was out of camera shot.

  ‘Is he in a box?’

  Fallows turned to Byrd. ‘Like a coffin?’

  Byrd snapped his neck at her as if realising something. ‘Earth? Buried. It makes sense.’

  ‘Where the hell is this happening?’ Fuller shouted, his voice reaching the far end of the office. People looked up from their desks with curious eyes, wondering what was happening. PC Amy Weaver came over to join them.

  ‘Jesus. Is that Phil?’

  ‘Yes,’ Byrd replied to her, keeping his eyes on the screen. He then looked up at Leonard. ‘Jim, go get Mac!’

  Leonard broke away from the desk and ran through the office, curious eyes following him until he reached the door and went into the corridor. Once Leonard reached his door, he quickly knocked and opened it. Inside the office, there was no sign of Mac.

  ‘Shit.’

  He checked the canteen, found a couple of PCs talking and having their lunch. He closed the door and made his way down the corridor, then down the flight of stairs, passing Jacob Tallow, the senior forensic, on his way back to the office.

  ‘Have you seen Mac from DFU?’

  Tallow shook his head. ‘Haven’t seen him all day. I’ve phoned him too but he didn’t answer. I thought it was strange, to be honest.’

  Leonard thanked him and returned to the office. ‘He isn’t there.’

  Byrd and Tanzy continued to watch the video. Stockdale wriggled in whatever space he was in. Fuller placed his hand on his head, watching in horror, thinking about what they were going to do.

  The video was ten minutes long. It reached nine minutes, then a voice spoke on the video.

  ‘Hello, Detective Inspector Max Byrd and Detective Inspector Orion Tanzy. I trust you are watching and both listening.’

  Byrd and Tanzy froze.

  ‘How does he know your names?’ asked Fuller.

  ‘By now, you may have realised you are watching one of your own,’ the voice continued. ‘Detective Sergeant Phillip Stockdale. I’m sorry I had to do this to him, but it’s the least he deserves for what he’s done.’

  Dilton’s words played over in all of their minds.

  ‘What’s he done?’ Weaver asked, looking at them one by one but they ignored her, keeping their focus on Byrd’s computer screen.

  ‘As you may or may not see, Phil is tied up. He can’t move. The enclosed space he is in, is in fact, a coffin. In approximately thirty minutes, the oxygen supply to the coffin will stop. And I don’t need to tell you what happens when you don’t get oxygen.’ Dilton started to laugh. ‘You can’t breathe.’

  Tanzy visualised him laughing and it boiled his blood.

  ‘So, I hope you enjoy the show. Because as long as you keep enjoying it, the show will continue. Catch up soon, Detectives.’

  The audio file that had been placed over the footage stopped and the video came to an end, reaching a total of ten minutes.

  ‘In a coffin?’ Weaver said. ‘Why is…’ she trailed off, battling with the million thoughts in her mind.

  Byrd stood up abruptly, almost knocking into Fallows, and went to the window. He placed both hands on the top of his head and sighed.

  ‘What time was the video posted?’ Tanzy asked, grabbing hold of the mouse, and scrolling down. It stated the video upload time was 1.14 p.m.. He looked down at his watch. It was a little after two.

  ‘How long would you last inside a closed coffin?’ Weaver said. ‘It wouldn’t take long for the air to run out, would it?’

  Byrd, standing at the window, turned and shook his head. ‘An hour maybe. Two at the most.’

  ‘So,’ Tanzy said, thinking hard. ‘We need to think of the obvious. If he’s in a coffin, he might—’

  ‘A cemetery?’ Fallows suggested, finishing his trail of thought.

  He nodded. ‘Leonard, make a list of cemeteries in Darlington.’

  ‘Okay, boss.’ He left them, dashed down the aisle, and took a left, then sat down at his computer to make a list of cemeteries.

  ‘We need to fucking find him!’ Fuller shouted, smacking his hands together. Fallows flinched a little, unsure what the noise was initially. ‘We don’t have long,’ he added, then returned to his office and slammed the door behind him.

  A few seconds of silence passed. Tanzy took a deep breath, started the video again, and watched carefully, seeing if he could spot something that could help. If it’s true
what Dilton said, that he was inside a coffin, then the most obvious place he would be at is a cemetery. It would certainly be the fourth kill, the one that Linda Fallows had predicted, being ‘earth’.

  ‘Where was that man buried, Linda?’ Byrd asked, returning to his desk. ‘The one in Essex?’

  ‘In the woods.’

  ‘Not a cemetery?’

  ‘No. The woods. Nowhere near a cemetery.’

  ‘If the coffin is a normal size, how long would it take to use all the air?’ Byrd said.

  ‘Hold on…’ Weaver asked, pulling out her phone. She tapped away, opening up an internet page. A few moments passed, then she said, ‘The smaller you are, then there’s more space for the air. The larger you are, the less space for air.’

  Byrd pushed his lip out, knowing Stockdale was both tall and thick set.

  ‘It says an average person under normal conditions could last up to five hours,’ Weaver said.

  ‘The problem we have,’ said Tanzy, pointing at the screen, particularly at Stockdale’s face, ‘is that he’s a large man, clearly panicking. The rise and fall in his chest indicate he’s breathing quickly. That air, however much there is, won’t last long in there.’

  ‘Every breath he takes is decreasing the oxygen and increasing the levels of carbon dioxide,’ Byrd added.

  Weaver glanced up, and nodded, reading the same point on the site on her phone. ‘That’s true, Max. It says that here.’

  A minute later, DC Leonard came back with a sheet of paper. ‘Here.’

  Tanzy took the paper and looked down the list.

  There were three. West Cemetery on Carmel Road. East Cemetery on Geneva Road. North Cemetery on North Road. ‘We’ll need to split up to cover these – we don’t have enough time.’ He turned to Leonard. ‘You and Amy go to North Road. We’ll go to Carmel Road.’ He stood, glared over the top of the desks, grabbed PC Grearer’s and PC Timm’s attention, and waved them over. They both looked at each other confused, wondering which one Tanzy was meaning but both stood, and started across the office.

  ‘What’s happening?’ Timms said when he reached him.

  ‘You seen the latest video?’

  Timms nodded.