by Helen Oliver
“Oh, God, I’ve found Mother! I’ve found them both.” Bloom’s voice shook uncontrollably. “Christ, Cally – it’s just awful.”
Heart pounding, Cally said. “Don’t move. Stay where you are. Can you indicate your position?”
Sobs broke up Bloom’s words. “If …if you’re on the main path…”
Cally said quickly, “I am.”
“Not sure how far along I am. It’s pretty dense. …I’m facing two pines, and a huge oak.” There was a pause. “Oh, thank God! Leo’s waking up.”
Cally tightened her hand on the phone, willed her voice to stay steady. “Is he all right?”
“I think so. Yes, he is.” Voice choking, she said, “But Mother’s been attacked.” Bloom was clearly at breaking point. “Cally. I think she’s dead.”
“Listen to me. Don’t move. Don’t touch anything. Not even Leo unless you absolutely have to. I’m coming.” She stood for a few seconds. And heard it: the faint but clear sound of Leo’s cries. Clutching her phone, she made her way carefully. This was not the moment to trip on a tree root. His crying, louder now, reached her. Poor little guy was letting rip, making it hard for her not to run. Then she saw, twenty or thirty paces ahead, the buggy, its parasol fixed in place. Standing still for a moment, she called, “Where are you Harriet?”
“I’m with Mother! Can you see if you can stop Leo crying?”
“I’ll see to him!” Faster than she intended, Cally reached the buggy. The parasol fluttered briefly. Diana had been so careful about too much UV, even though the little guy wouldn’t burn easily. A shaky smile ready for Leo, Cally moved to the side of the buggy.
And saw, in the shade of the parasol, a taut flannel sheet and small CD player.
She had just enough time for a gasp of breath before the strap tightened round her neck, her hand lost its grip and her phone fell to the ground. She hardly felt the brick on the back of her head. Or saw her phone being picked up and the car keys taken from her pocket.
48
In Reception, Mal Cope, Hammond and two PCs dealt with three rowdy lads in handcuffs, one spattered with blood, most likely not his own, and a teenage girl winning an Oscar for hysterics. Despite accusations of rough police handling, Cope took names and addresses. He’d know soon enough if they were genuine. He was sure of one regular customer: Ged Sparks. Second thoughts, though, this could be Aaron, Dean or Jak. Whichever – he was a Sparks. Twenty minutes later the clang of cell doors preceded the kind of quiet broken only by a choice expletive. The girl, after spitting at Cope, gave her name as Laurel Wood-Fletcher. Cope called her mum, and within a quarter of an hour handed the girl over to a tattooed woman so livid with her daughter, she could barely speak. Hammond took the pair into the interview room. It might be a vain hope, but if he could din into them the seriousness of the girl getting in with the wrong crowd, he’d give it a try.
The Custody phone rang. Cope, checking the display and his notes, transferred the call to DC Akpata in the Incident Room. Saving the latest Parsons and Fox info on her screen, she took the call: “DC Akpata speaking, how can I help you?”
“This is Miss Bloom.”
Noise in the Incident Room caused Akpata to flatten her hand against one ear. “Good afternoon, Miss Bloom.”
Sounding faintly amused, Miss Bloom said, “I promised DS Burns I’d update her on the so-called vanishing act of my mother and baby Leo.”
“You’ve found them?”
“Yes, and DS Burns already knows. Just tell her, please, that everything’s back to normal. Has she spoken to you?”
“Not yet.”
“So you won’t know they were in the garden all along. In the summer-house behind our large willow.”
“Oh my days! All the same, it must’ve been a shock.”
“It certainly was.” Bloom laughed. “I’m tempted to ground them for a week.”
Bloom ended the conversation, and Akpata pulled her laptop forward: 16.58 Harriet Bloom called. Asked DC Akpata to update DS Burns: report everything normal regarding her mother and baby Leo.
She dialled Cally’s mobile. An automated female voice said, “This number is not responding. Please try later.” Akpata left the Incident Room, headed for Reception and waited for Sergeant Cope to finish a call.
“Sarge?”
“Yep?”
“Miss Bloom called to say her mother and baby Leo are fine.”
Mal clipped papers together. “Good result.”
Akpata said, “Apparently DS Burns already knows, but Miss Bloom wants me to update her.”
Mal gave her an old-fashioned look. “Problem?”
“Not really, Sarge, it’s just that DS Burns’s mobile’s not receiving calls.”
“Is she not in?”
“I’ve not seen her.”
“She’s got a lot on. Try her later.”
“Right, Sarge.”
In the Incident Room, everyone bar Josh Haig – fiddling with a paper plane – was busy. Dodging an origami flight, Akpata said sharply, “Would you care to put your remaining brain cell to work?”
“Who d’you think you are? Oops, you wouldn’t know, would you.”
“Meaning?”
“Well, you lot were supposed to be around long before us. There’s probably no one remembers that far back.”
Jason Nolan put his hands round Haig’s fat neck. “You’re so bloody ignorant, Haig.” He looked at Akpata. “Something wrong?”
“I only want to know if anyone’s seen DS Burns.”
“She was here for a short while. We, though not all of us–” he gave Haig a withering look “–are having a go at proving Hemsworth was, or was not, at the chicken farm in the early hours of the 17th.” He added, “DS Burns made herself scarce just before lunch. Woman and child missing.”
Akpata said, “Turns out they’re fine.” She scanned the room. Fingers moving over keys. Eyes magnetised by screens. Phones lifted or put down. All trying to get to the bottom of two mindless murders. “I’m supposed to give DS Burns an update.”
Nolan said, “Won’t it wait?”
“Could do, I suppose.” She hesitated. “I wonder if I ought to let the boss know.”
Nolan shook his head. “DCI’s at the hospital.”
Akpata looked alarmed.
“The lad died,” he said.
Haig perked up. “What lad?”
“Stabbing on the Lockwell estate.”
Pain crossed Akpata’s face. “That’s awful.”
*
Dreadful throat. Something scratches your eye. Head hurts. Thing on your eye moves. Buzzes. Moves away. Eyes ought to open, but it’s hard. Don’t try again. Agonizing pain. Move your hand, feel the damp. Sore throat worse. Strings plucked. Ukulele. One more note might twang you to death. Dead already? In Hell. No harps. Woman calls, ‘Eat your heart out George Formby! No more tunes, Evie, we’re going to eat!’ Tongue won’t move. Mouth full of claggy stuff. Woman shouts, ‘Come here, Evie, or there’ll be no Jaffa cakes.’ Another shout. Louder. ‘Come back Evie! Child screams. Falls. Ribs crushed. Pain’s intolerable. Woman’s voice yells, ‘Look up at the trees, Evie. Don’t look down! Long count of three. Woman says, ‘Ambulance!’
*
Eileen put milk and flapjack on the garden table. She called into the house, “Cup of tea in the garden, Daddy!” and hid a smile when Tom said, “It would do him good to get a bit of Vitamin D.” She went back in. Greg lay on the sofa, eyes closed; his book, face down and open, on his chest. “Come and have a cuppa outside, love.”
He opened his eyes. “I can’t even get my head round a bloody crime novel.”
Eileen said, “It’s probably the author. I don’t like everything written by the same author.”
She put her hand out. “Come outside. Show them you’re interested in their day.”
“Trouble is I’m not.”
Eileen said nothing, didn’t even sigh. She made for the kitchen, poured two mugs of tea, brought one in for Greg. “Than
ks,” he said.
She took her mug outside. “Now then, tell me about your day.” Lou opened her mouth and Tom swallowed a piece of flapjack too fast. Eileen said, “Not both at once.”
*
Hammond returned. Switched on his computer, typed up the gruelling hours. The medics’ vain efforts to save Sean Briscow’s life. The hurried removal of the body to the viewing room. His call to Rutter. The father, 39, making identification.
At a tentative knock he looked up. “Come in.”
Akpata said, “Sorry to trouble you, sir.”
“That’s all right.” He looked at his watch. “Shouldn’t you have left?”
“Yes sir, but I didn’t want to go before I’d seen you.”
Hammond rubbed the back of his neck. “Something wrong?”
“I don’t expect it’s anything, but I can’t get hold of DS Burns.” Hammond frowned and she added, “There’s no signal on her mobile” She frowned. “She was around before lunch.”
He switched on his phone. “I’ll give her a try.”
He waited a few seconds, and Akpata asked, “Automated response?”
“Yeah.” He frowned. “That’s odd. Take a seat for a minute.” He scratched his chin. “Who was on custody mid-day?”
“Sergeant Cope. He’s gone home now.” She paused. “He transferred Miss Bloom’s second call to me because DS Burns had said I was to stand by.”
“Second call? What time did Miss Bloom first speak to DS Burns?”
“12.17, sir, to report her mother and the baby missing.” Hammond raised a hand and she hurried on, “But it’s all right, they turned up. Though DS Burns didn’t know straight away.” Hammond thumbed his phone, and Akpata added, “Bloom phoned later to see if DS Burns had been in touch; she wanted me to update her.”
“What about?”
“Nothing new. Just to say things were still okay with Mrs Bloom and the baby.” She paused. “Would you like me to stay on, sir?”
He nodded. “For the time being.” He dialled again. “Eileen? Hi there, it’s Steve Hammond.” He listened briefly before asking, “Is Cally with you?”
Akpata sensed DS Burns wasn’t at home and listened to the boss’s carefully phrased questions. Watched the nod of his head. A weight settled in her chest when he ended the call and said, “Kylie, get me a recording of that 12.17 call from Bloom.”
“Sir.”
She turned as he said, “Are you all right for a bit of overtime?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Fine. Let your folks know.”
“Sir.”
*
They sat together, listening to the recording. When Hammond switched it off, Akpata said, “Miss Bloom never says exactly where she is. Can I ask a question, sir?”
“Go on.”
“Are you worried about DS Burns?”
“I’m concerned no one’s spoken to her recently.”
“Miss Bloom said she had: to let her know about the pair being safe. That was the content of her call at 16.58.” She hesitated. “Which struck me, even if she’d let DS Burns know a bit earlier, as being a long time after 12.17. We don’t know the time Miss Bloom told DS Burns they actually turned up.”
Hammond’s mobile buzzed. Kerridge on the display. “Pat?”
“Bad news I’m afraid, Steve.”
His mouth dried. “Tell me.”
“Cally Burns. Found in woods near Myker.”
“Christ.”
“She’s alive, but only just. Heading for Harrogate General; Leeds are busy with a motorway pile up.”
Hammond said, “I’ll be there soonest. Can you inform the family? Husband’s called Greg. If possible talk to mother-in-law, Eileen, first.”
“Got that. Talk later.”
“And – Pat?”
“Yes?”
“Any sign of Cally’s car?”
“Uniform are searching.”
Kerridge ended the call. Hammond turned to Akpata. “DS Burns has been found. Not good, though. She’s being taken to Harrogate General.”
Akpata asked, “Can I come?”
Hammond made to grab his jacket, but changed his mind. “You go on ahead. I’ve a call to make.”
“Right, sir.”
*
Hammond set a tape to record. She answered almost immediately. “Harriet Bloom.”
“DCI Hammond.” He paused for a second. “Miss Bloom, I need your help.”
“Good to hear from you,” she said lightly. “I’ll help if I can.”
“When were you last in touch with DS Burns?”
“I don’t remember the exact time. This afternoon, though.”
“I’m hoping you can give us a lead. DS Burns’s mobile isn’t picking up, and you look like being our last point of contact with her.”
“Really?”
“At 12.17 you reported your mother and the baby missing. Later, you followed this up by informing DC Akpata that the pair weren’t missing after all, and that you had already informed DS Burns.” He let a moment pass.” Why did you feel the need to call when you knew DS Burns had already been updated?”
Bloom said, “DS Burns had been extremely concerned, and I felt it was polite to reassure her that everything was back to normal. I can’t apologize enough. I felt so guilty when she was here. I actually thought of getting up a local search party”
Hammond asked, “Did you and DS Burns search at all?”
“Absolutely. We followed the path Mother invariably takes with Leo.” She gave an embarrassed laugh. “I had to let your office know they’d been in the garden all along. I feel so bad about wasting your time.”
Hammond allowed a pause. “When did DS Burns leave you?”
“I’m not sure of the exact time. She got a call, said it was urgent and drove off.”
“Did you not think that odd?”
Bloom said, “I did for a moment, but she seemed so agitated I realized it must be important. I was about to get in touch with the police station, to see if there was anyone else who could help, when Mother appeared.”
Hammond said, “Did DS Burns give any indication of what that call was about?”
“None at all.” She cleared her throat. “I did ring to let your colleague know that Mother and Leo weren’t still missing.”
He said slowly, “Your call was timed at just before five o’clock.”
“As late as that? To be honest I’d been in such a state earlier on, it took me some time to catch up. I could kick myself,” she said. “I saw Mother off – thought I saw her off – after I got back from seeing you this morning. We’d sat down for a bit, while I gave her an outline of our meeting. Then she prepared a bottle for Leo and set off on what I stupidly thought was her usual walk beside the wood. She insists she told me she intended going into the summerhouse for a nice long read, but I can promise you that’s not the impression I got.”
Hammond asked, “What time did DS Burns arrive?”
“Certainly within half an hour of getting my call. Less, possibly.”
“That was the call you made when you were driving around looking for your mother?”
“I’m afraid by then I’d lost it completely. When DS Burns arrived, she parked up on the road and suggested we did a thorough search of the walk Mother usually takes. I’d done this already, but she said we ought to do it again because we might meet Mother coming back.”
“And did you?”
“Meet her coming back?” She laughed quietly. “Well, of course not.”
“Did you repeat your walk with DS Burns?”
“Yes. We were on our way back, and DS Burns told me she’d organize a search, not just the locals I had in mind. But then she got the call on her mobile and sped off.”
Hammond said, “No trouble with a signal?”
“No, it was fine.”
“Where was Lucy all this time?”
“Shopping in Leeds.” Bloom gave an exasperated laugh. “That girl’s spending April’s money like there�
�s no tomorrow.”
“She seems much stronger.”
“Oh, much.” He heard a voice in the background, then Bloom again: “Mr Hammond, my mother would like a word with you.”
“It’ll have to be a quick one.”
Bloom’s phone changed hands. “Mr Hammond? Diana Bloom here. I’m sorry if I led you a merry dance.”
“Apology accepted.” He reached to switch off the tape. “I have to go, Mrs Bloom, lots to do.”
“Of course,” she said, and he put the phone down.
He shut his eyes for a few seconds and dialled again. “Pat, who called it in?”
“The woman whose child fell on top of Cally. Seems it was barely a grave. More a natural dip in the ground, piled with leaves. She paused. “Are you at the hospital?”
“Going now.” He paused. “I’m as certain as I can be that Bloom believes she killed Cally.”
Kerridge was quiet for a moment. “Right.”
Hammond’s knuckles whitened on the phone. “Can we arrest her for attempted murder? Looks as if Cally was the intended third victim.”
“Motive?”
“Don’t know. Perhaps Bloom’s getting a taste for it. Pure evil?”
Kerridge said, “If Cally pulls through we can hope she’ll provide us with the proof we need. But until then… Sorry, Steve, we both know it has to be water-tight.”
*
Greg, Eileen and DC Akpata sat in upholstered tub chairs in the relatives’ room. Two lamps on small tables gave a warm glow.
The three looked up as Hammond pushed open the door. Said quietly, “How is she?”
Eileen looked wrung out. “She’s got a bleed on the brain. They’re operating.”
Sick to his stomach, Hammond asked, “What are her chances?”
Greg’s expression was unreadable. “They can’t say.”
“Sit down, Steve.” Eileen patted the spare chair next to her. “We’ve no idea how long the operation will take.”
Greg said, “Looks like there’s no quick answer to anything.”
Each knew Cally’s life hung by a thread. No one suggested otherwise. Eileen said, “I know we keep asking the same question, but who would do such a terrible thing?”