What She Saw

by Diane Saxon

  He made his selection and left behind the business he’d built from zero with single-minded determination and focus, pouring heart and soul into it over the years, believing it meant everything and realising it meant nothing. It no longer held any meaning. Nothing did.

  He paused in the doorway of the main room where Phil Hutchinson stood over a broken down machine, his face a blotchy red under the fine sheen of sweat.

  Gordon blew out a disgusted breath.

  They no longer needed instruction from him.

  He left it as he arrived.

  With nothing.

  42

  Tuesday 21 April 1410 hours

  ‘Ethel. Do you remember me? DS Jenna Morgan from the other night.’

  Ethel’s wizened face crinkled in a sour smile. ‘I’m old, not stupid, of course I remember you.’ She nodded at Mason. ‘You too. DC, wasn’t it? Just a constable.’

  Without taking offence, Mason grinned at her. ‘Yes, Mrs Crawford.’

  ‘Ellis, if I remember right.’

  Nothing wrong with the old girl’s memory and a lesson learnt for Jenna.

  ‘I haven’t met this one though.’ She craned her neck to look way up at Ryan.

  ‘DC Ryan Downey, Mrs Crawford.’ He smiled at her as she gawped at him with her hands on her hips.

  ‘You’ll want a nice cup of tea then if you’ve come to interview us.’

  ‘Cup of tea would be lovely, Ethel.’ Jenna moved deeper into the kitchen to allow the other two in. ‘But we’ve not come to interview you.’

  Stiff-legged, Mr Crawford came through a wooden door Jenna hadn’t noticed previously as it blended in smoothly with the wooden panelling, giving the impression it was a cupboard.

  ‘Afternoon, I expect you’ve been busy.’ Mr Crawford stuck his little finger in his ear and gave it a waggle. ‘You’ll be wanting a cup of tea.’

  Jenna smiled.

  ‘Kettle’s already on, Mr Crawford.’ Ethel turned to reach fine china teacups down from the cupboard above her head. ‘Take a seat. You’re not on parade, you know.’

  In deference to their age and slower pace, they each pulled out one of the heavy oak chairs and sat around the enormous kitchen table. Jenna reached out for the piece of paper Mason had with the triangulated point of the phone.

  ‘Ethel, Mr Crawford. We’ve got some information that a phone belonging to Poppy Lawrence may be in the vicinity.’

  ‘Oh, that poor baby. What a nasty man her father was.’ Ethel poured boiling water on the loose tea leaves she’d scooped into a large teapot and then turned. ‘Why would her phone be here?’

  Jenna stretched her spine as she sat upright in the old chair. ‘We don’t know, Ethel, but we’d like to be able to check, if you don’t mind.’

  ‘We don’t mind do we, Mr Crawford?’

  ‘No. Have your cup of tea, then carry on.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Jenna suspected nothing came between Mr Crawford and his cup of tea.

  As Mr Crawford settled himself at the table, Jenna pushed the paper towards him. ‘You have a lot of barns, Mr Crawford.’

  ‘We do. It used to be a real working farm at one time. Beef farming, we did most of our working lives, but mad cow disease came along and put a bit of a hole in it. Then foot and mouth. Last few years, Ethel and me, we’ve been getting on a little, find it’s not as easy as it used to be. I dunna want to be up at the crack of dawn any more.’

  She couldn’t blame him.

  ‘The farm’s got a little run-down.’ It was an understatement, but she wasn’t there to judge.

  She touched her fingertip to the paper. ‘It indicates that the phone was last switched on around here.’

  Mr Crawford took his time taking a pair of glasses from the pocket of his plaid shirt and positioning them just so on his nose. He studied the paper for a long moment. ‘Well that’s this ’ere shed.’ He raised his head to look out of the window. ‘Shouldn’t take thee much to find owt in there. It’s empty.’

  ‘Excellent.’ Desperate to move, Jenna glanced at Ethel and considered whether she needed to ask permission to leave the table.

  ‘Off you go.’ Ethel caught her gaze. ‘Mr Crawford will take you and you’ll be back just in time for your tea to be drinkable.’

  Relieved, Jenna pushed back from the table as Mr Crawford grumbled. ‘It had better be quick, I’m bloody parched.’

  Ethel clipped the little teacups down in front of Mason and Ryan. ‘You won’t need to go. It’ll be a quick job. As Mr Crawford said, it’s empty.’ She peered over at Jenna with a sweet smile. ‘You go and find that phone now, we’ll wait right here.’

  43

  Tuesday 21 April 1445 hours

  Empty was precisely the word to describe the small, windowless brick shed, no bigger than four metres square with not a single thing in it. Nothing. Barren. Bare. Whatever naked word she could use to describe it. Jenna circled around for all of three minutes before concluding it was a no-go.

  Disappointed, Jenna took a sip of her tea as they sat around the kitchen table and studied the ringed location of the area the phone had last been used.

  ‘We had the shed cleaned out last year in case we wanted to store anything in it. Our boys came and did it. It looked so pristine, we’ve never brought ourselves to use it again,’ Ethel explained.

  ‘Strange.’ Jenna tugged at her bottom lip as she lifted her head to gaze out of the window at the dozens of outbuildings surrounding the farmhouse. ‘It’s normally pretty precise.’ She squinted out of the window. ‘Which could mean it hasn’t been lost or dropped. Maybe someone has got it.’

  Ethel’s small gasp had Jenna turning her head. The old lady raised a gnarled hand up and paused halfway to her lips.

  Ryan’s eyes sharpened. Mason tilted his head.

  ‘What is it, Ethel?’ Jenna asked gently.

  ‘I don’t know.’ She gave a delicate sniff. ‘It may be something, it may be nothing.’

  ‘Okay. Any little piece of information could help.’ Jenna hated to rush her, but they needed to get on.

  Ethel pushed up from the table and made her way to a cupboard, which she pulled open, leaving the door wide for them to see inside. Ceiling to floor, the shelved interior was filled with enough produce to survive a pandemic.

  Jenna’s mouth fell open. She’d never seen a cupboard arranged with such precision. Every package and tin neatly stacked, not only in categories, but with the labels turned outwards. Her dream cupboard and one she could never aspire to.

  Admiration was one thing, but she didn’t grasp Ethel’s point.

  ‘I thought it was me.’ Palm outwards, Ethel skimmed her hand along each row of the cupboard. ‘Yesterday, I wanted to give Mr Crawford some baked beans with his full English.’

  Jenna quirked a smile as she studied the neat row of baked beans. Enough to feed an army. ‘I see.’ But she didn’t.

  ‘I thought I was losing my marbles because there was a tin of them missing. So, I checked, and I found there was a tin of ravioli astray too and a packet of biscuits and some chocolate.’

  Everything inside of Jenna stilled.

  ‘Now, there could have been some Uncle Ben’s rice gone too, I’m not sure because sometimes the grandkids help themselves.’ She pursed her lips. ‘Although they know the rules, they occasionally slip.’ Her face wreathed with a big smile, obviously delighted with her great-grandchildren in reality. Ethel carried on, with no one willing to stop her. Mason and Ryan’s stunned expressions reflected Jenna’s sentiments to perfection. ‘We do our shop on a Friday morning.’ Jenna nodded and let the old lady run with it. ‘Everything was there.’

  Ryan was the first to break. ‘Are you saying someone took food out of your cupboard?’

  Ethel flipped the door shut and turned to face them, crossing her arms over her chest. ‘I’m saying precisely that.’

  44

  Tuesday 21 April 1520 hours

  ‘DI Taylor.’

  ‘Sergeant Morgan. How are th
ings progressing?’

  Bloody awful she wanted to say as she caught the flicker of Mason’s eyebrow and smiled.

  She paced away down the cracked and worn path and stood at the rusted green wrought-iron gate at the Crawfords’ farm. ‘Not so well, sir. We’ve checked the area where Poppy’s mobile phone registered as last used, but it literally is an empty brick building.’

  ‘Anything there to be marked up for evidence?’

  ‘No, sir. When I say empty, I do mean literally. Square brick building, brick floor. Used to house their goats, according to Mrs Crawford. The sons came last year, cleared it out, painted some sort of sealant over the floor and it hasn’t been used since.’ She glanced back at Mr and Mrs Crawford watching from their kitchen window. ‘Sir, Mrs Crawford believes someone has been in the house and taken food out of the cupboard. It may be whoever has this phone is still in the vicinity. There are quite a number of outbuildings and barns to cover. Can I request Air One to come to seek a heat source, and is the dog handler available?’

  ‘I’ll check that for you, Sergeant, and get back to you. In the meanwhile, I’ll deploy anyone in the vicinity that’s not committed. You’ll need a few extra pairs of eyes by the sound of things.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’ She scanned the farm. ‘We certainly will.’ She pressed her thumb to the off button.

  As she turned, Ethel came down the path towards her, astute gaze pinning her. ‘You don’t have enough bodies.’

  Jenna kept her expression as neutral as possible, but it was hard not to let the surprise show.

  ‘You don’t think that nasty Gordon Lawrence has murdered his wife and children and is hiding out in our barns, do you?’

  ‘No, Ethel.’ The thought hadn’t even occurred to her. Why would Gordon Lawrence still be on the scene? If he’d murdered his family, surely he would have moved on. He’d never have stayed in the area, let alone in such close proximity.

  Unless he was injured and couldn’t. ‘There’s no reason for you to think that. It’s Poppy’s phone we’re looking for.’

  Ethel harrumphed as she placed her hands on her hips. ‘Well, I hope for all our sakes, we’re not under any threat. I’d hate to think Mr Crawford could get hurt.’

  Jenna reached out to smooth a hand down Ethel’s arm. ‘Ethel, you couldn’t be safer. You have us here and you’re about to be surrounded by officers any minute now.’

  ‘But that man had guns.’ Jenna’s heart pinched as Ethel’s face crumpled with concern. She reached out and stroked the old lady’s arm.

  ‘Oh, Ethel, there’s nothing for you to worry about. Gordon Lawrence most likely died in the fire. If it was him, he wouldn’t have filched a few tins of food.’ He’d more likely have been in the farmhouse gun in hand. ‘It’s more likely someone stole Poppy’s phone. Possibly a kid, a homeless person.’ She squeezed Ethel’s arm and started to walk back towards the house, doubting her own reassuring words. Shit, she needed to get on and look. ‘Come on inside now, there’s nothing for you to concern yourself about. We’ll do everything in our power to look after you and Mr Crawford.’

  She released Ethel’s arm as they reached the door and turned at the sound of vehicles approaching. Two police-issue cars kicked up dirt as they rattled along the track towards the farmhouse.

  Mason stepped up beside her. ‘They were bloody quick.’

  Jenna clipped her phone onto her utility belt and rested her fists on her hips. ‘They must have been at Kimble Hall.’

  ‘Yeah.’ Mason chuckled in her ear. ‘I bet there was a race on to get away from scene guard duty.’

  ‘Yep.’ Ryan nudged her shoulder as he stepped in close. ‘Most boring job on the planet.’

  Airwaves hissed to life. ‘Sergeant Morgan.’

  ‘DI Taylor, sir.’

  ‘I have an update for you. The dog handler has just finished up and will be with you within the hour. Same with the Air Unit. It’s down for refuelling and will also be with you within the hour.’

  Impatient to make progress, Jenna stared past the oncoming vehicles. ‘Sir, I’m going to initiate a ground search. Could you please make Air Unit aware so they let us know when they start their heat search?’

  ‘I can do that, Jenna.’

  The radio buzzed for a second before going silent.

  ‘What do you want from us, Sarge?’

  Jenna glanced at Ryan. ‘There aren’t many of us yet, but I think we need to make a start. I’m not sure I can take any more of Ethel’s tea.’

  ‘I’m beginning to slosh.’

  She laughed. ‘We’ll split up. I’ll start with the little shack on the right. Ryan, you take the asbestos shed; Mason, you take the tin barn. We’ll get uniform to conduct a ground search from here outwards and then if we all converge on that big black barn in the middle, we can do that one together. Hopefully both the Air Unit and the dog handler will be here by then.’

  She flexed her shoulders keen to make a start and looked around as the car doors slammed.

  Her heart sank as Lee Gardner stepped from the driver’s side of the second vehicle. If she could have got away with dropping her head into her hands she would have, instead she settled for the pained groan that refused to be restrained. She bloody well knew he’d be in her path again.

  He jerked his head to crick his neck as his steely, arrogant gaze met hers.

  45

  Tuesday 21 April 1550 hours

  White-hot pokers seared her skin as Poppy touched icy fingertips to the vivid red, pulsing hot flesh on her side, knowing for certain she had an infection.

  She tugged the sweatshirt back into place, little whimpers coming from her lips. She grappled with the phone. Unable to grasp it properly, it slipped from her fingers and down onto the barn floor.

  Poppy edged off the bales of straw, dropped to the floor and stumbled to her knees.

  She needed help.

  It no longer mattered if her daddy found her and killed her, if she didn’t get help soon, she was going to die. Die of hunger, die of thirst, or die of a horrible infection that shuddered through her body to make her hot and cold all at the same time.

  Her teeth chattered as she scrabbled around in the dusty straw layering the concrete floor.

  Her fingers knocked against her iPhone and she forced them to hold on.

  She could switch it on and phone Sophie. She could phone the police. She depressed the button, waiting for it to load with painful slowness. She couldn’t wait, she needed help now.

  Eyes blurred with pain, Poppy tucked the phone into the sweatshirt pocket and crawled on her hands and knees towards the barn door.

  She’d go to the farmhouse.

  Mrs Crawford would know what to do.

  46

  Tuesday 21 April 1555 hours

  Gordon Lawrence looked at his phone for the hundredth time in as many minutes.

  Bingo!

  He fucking knew she couldn’t resist. A curl of pride circled in his stomach. No daughter of his could.

  He’d just had to move in closer and wait. Contain the fury that had burnt bright when she wasn’t in the location it had indicated. An old brick shed. Clean as a whistle. Why that was clean when every other outhouse looked as though a bomb had hit it was beyond him.

  Clever little girl. She must have sneaked in there to switch her phone on just in case. Either that or the satellite wasn’t as accurate as it could be, or the phone had been on such a short while, the location hadn’t had time to narrow in.

  He sniffed as he thought through the process. Maybe she’d needed a stronger signal.

  He jumped down from the old bale of hay he’d been waiting on in the little tin roofed outhouse he’d chosen and reached for the double-barrelled shotgun he’d placed at his side. His back-up pistol was already tucked away in the waistband of his trousers.

  One for her.

  One for him.

  Boom!

  Boom!

  It would all be over.

  Detached, he stared at th
e phone.

  He should have done it right in the first place, but there was a reason he hadn’t killed himself then. That reason was his daughter. If he’d died, she would have been left behind and she was his, just as her mum, brother and sisters were his and he’d take them all with him. Every one of them.

  Fate had given him a second chance.

  He strode to the door, all the time looking at his phone.

  Ironic.

  If only he’d decided to wait one barn over in old man Crawford’s outbuildings, he would have found her. As it was, he’d parked way down the old disused dirt track bordering the two pieces of land so he could check out his property first. Logically, a child might make their way back home but as the place was swarming with fire and police services, he’d given them a wide birth. He assumed she had too.

  Puzzled by her thought processes initially, he’d made his way through the back of the Crawford’s land careful not to encroach too near their house, not wanting to risk them seeing him. They may be old but neither one of them was stupid and he’d never liked the look in the old woman’s eye as she studied him, judging him. As though he was beneath contempt.

  Ordinarily, he’d not consider her worthy of his attention. Now, avoidance was the better option. His priority was to find Poppy before the police pieced together their puzzle, realised he was alive and came looking for him.

  The police.

  Why hadn’t Poppy gone to the police? There was an enigma.

  He cocked his head to one side. Could he hear voices?

  He waited. Nothing.

  He didn’t want to stumble over the Crawfords and have to shoot them. The police would hear the gunshot from Kimble Hall and be all over the place like a rash.

  They’d hear it when he dispatched Poppy, of course, but by the time they arrived, it would be too late. He couldn’t afford for them to arrive before he located Poppy.