Authors: Clare Donoghue
‘I saw her in the car park when I was coming on duty, boss,’ Whitemore said, standing up at his desk. ‘Seven o’clock.’
‘What did she say?’ Lockyer asked, trying to control the volume of his voice, which was increasing with each question.
‘That she was driving over to Bromley to see Sue Leech,’ Whitemore said.
‘Was that it?’
‘She said she’d be on her mobile, and to call if there was any movement on Lebowski,’ he said, looking down at his feet like a scolded child. ‘I think that was it, boss.’
‘Has anyone received a text or any communication from her since then?’ Another barrage of shaking heads greeted him. ‘Chris,’ Lockyer said, turning. ‘Call Traffic and tell them to keep an eye out for Jane’s car. If she hasn’t called in by,’ he looked at his watch, ‘ten-thirty, I want Air Support.’
‘Half the team is out on the Lebowski warrant,’ Chris said, not seeming to grasp the gravity of Lockyer’s request.
‘DS Bennett has been out of contact for over three hours. No one has seen or spoken to her. She is the lead investigator on the Hungerford case. Lebowski is under warrant, in relation to that case. He is missing with his two young children. Jane is missing. Do you understand what I’m telling you?’ His words elicited the reaction he needed. Everyone was looking at him. Everyone was focused. ‘Unless she walks back into this office in the next half-hour, finding DS Bennett will be your top priority. Is that clear?’ A chorus of ‘Yes, boss’ and ‘Yes, sir,’ rang out around the office. He jogged back into his office, grabbed his car keys and ran back across the room to the lifts. ‘I’m on my mobile. I’m going to drive over to Sue Leech’s and see if Jane’s been delayed en route. Franks,’ he shouted.
‘Yes, boss,’ Franks said. He was standing by the water cooler, looking somewhat shell-shocked.
‘You’re in charge until I get back. Clear?’
‘Yes,’ Franks said, nodding.
‘And call the SIO,’ Lockyer shouted from the hallway, stabbing the ‘Call’ button for the lift. ‘Ask him to come in, and call me when he gets here.’ The lift pinged to indicate its arrival. Lockyer was inside and pressing the button for the ground floor before the doors were fully open.
Lockyer raced through the traffic, ignoring the blasting horns and shouts of protest as he accelerated through red lights and swerved onto the wrong side of the road. He was concentrating on the road ahead, as well as flicking his eyes from side to side in search of Jane’s car. His back was slick with sweat. He should have taken a squad car. Roger had signed off for his Audi to be fitted with lights and a siren, but Lockyer had not had time to get the work done. He slammed his hand down on the steering wheel. ‘Come on,’ he shouted, leaning on his horn, waving his arms in frustration as dazed faces looked back at him in their rear-view mirrors. ‘Get out of the bloody way,’ he mouthed to a woman in an Espace loaded with kids.
He reversed, almost hitting the car behind him, and nosed out into the oncoming traffic. A truck pulled out in front of him, missing his front bumper by inches. He braked, swerved to the left and darted around it before the driver knew what was happening. His mobile began ringing on the dashboard. He grabbed the phone, swerving his car onto the curb. ‘Lockyer,’ he said, ramming the phone against his ear.
‘Mike,’ Jane said. Her voice sounded far away. Lockyer’s muscles started to bunch up in his shoulders.
‘Jane, where the hell are you? Are you all right?’
‘I’m okay,’ she said, but she didn’t sound like she was okay at all.
‘Talk to me. What’s happened?’ He felt as if he wanted to get out of the car, to start running.
‘I’m in Elmstead,’ she said. She was coughing. Her lungs sounded dry, her voice hoarse.
Lockyer sat back. ‘Jane,’ he said, taking a deep breath. ‘Are you hurt?’ The numerous coffees he had drunk in the afternoon were working their way up his throat.
‘I’m fine . . . I went to Sue’s. She wasn’t there . . . someone hit me. When I woke up I was in one of the tombs – Kieran’s, I think.’ Lockyer tried to process what she was saying.
‘Lebowski?’ he asked.
‘No. No, Mike, Lebowski’s dead. He was in the tomb with me when I woke up. Someone had caved in the front of his head.’ Jane was coughing again. He waited. ‘I managed to get out . . . ’ She was breathing hard. ‘ But when I went back in for Victor, he was dead. I can’t find the children. They’re not here. I don’t know . . . ’ Her voice drifted away as if she had dropped the phone. He could hear other voices in the background.
‘Jane?’ Lockyer said, gripping his mobile. ‘Are you there? Jane?’
He heard her retching. ‘I’m okay,’ she said. ‘Concussed, I think, but I’m okay.’
‘Listen, I spoke to Cindy. Gary Reynolds hasn’t been home since we were there on Saturday,’ Lockyer said. ‘I spoke to Sue. She knew about the phone calls, and Lebowski. She said Gary threatened to hurt her and the children if Mark wouldn’t tell him who killed Amelia.’ There was silence from the other end of the line. ‘Jane?’
‘It’s Gary,’ she said, her voice quiet. ‘Now I get it,’ she said, clearing her throat. ‘He’s been planning to take the children all along.’ She retched again. ‘He’s going to kill them, to punish Lebowski. He’s going to kill them because Lebowski killed his daughter.’ As he listened to her words, everything fell into place.
‘I’m coming to get you,’ he said, ramming the Audi into gear.
‘No, no,’ she said, ‘Sasha and Aaron are already here. I managed to get this phone off a couple out walking their dog. I called the office, after I’d called an ambulance for Victor. Mike, you need to get over to Deptford. The allotment where Amelia was killed. That’s where he’ll have taken them. Gary is going to kill them in the same place that his daughter died. I’ve already requested backup. But, Mike, we can’t approach until we know what’s happening. We can’t risk him seeing us and hurting those kids.’
Lockyer realized he was nodding, but not speaking. ‘Okay. All right. It’ll take me ten minutes to get over there.’ He could hear an engine revving at the other end of the phone.
‘We’ll be there in fifteen, twenty minutes. Meet us at the south end of Brockill Crescent. I’ll get the rest of the team to take up position at the north end, on St Norbert Green. The railway line will pen him in on the east side.
‘See you there,’ Lockyer said, dropping his phone onto the passenger seat and mounting the pavement, as he swung the Audi round and accelerated away.
5th May – Monday
Jane ran her hands through her hair. She was standing at the southern end of Brockill Crescent, stamping her feet. She couldn’t stay still. They had been waiting for Lockyer for almost ten minutes. She looked up and down the street, lined with 1960s terraces. Other than a group of teenagers on skateboards, it was quiet. Pockets of light from the occasional street lamp bathed the empty pavements. She looked at her watch. ‘What the hell is taking him so long?’ she asked, turning to Sasha and Aaron, who were still sitting in the squad car.
‘He said the ambulance should be there any second,’ Sasha said, leaning out of the car window. ‘Traffic haven’t turned up yet . . . the guy in the car is going in and out of consciousness . . .’
‘Lockyer needs to be
here
.’ Jane had to stop herself from shouting.
‘He said he’ll be another five minutes, ten max,’ Sasha said.
‘We can’t wait,’ Jane said, shaking her head. ‘Those kids can’t wait.’
She closed her eyes. The pain was beyond anything she had ever experienced. She was pretty sure adrenaline was the only thing keeping her conscious. The twenty-minute drive from Elmstead had been tense, and neither Sasha nor Aaron had said much. Jane had been unable to speak. All she could think about was Poppy and Petra. They were seven and ten. Innocent pawns in Lebowski’s and Gary’s twisted histories. She looked at her watch again. Every minute she waited put those kids in danger. She had met Gary. He was an alcoholic, a wreck of a man. The death of his daughter had robbed him of his life, but would he really hurt two little girls? ‘I’m going over there,’ she said, striding off towards the cut-through to the allotments.
‘Boss,’ Sasha said, getting out of the car and jogging after her, ‘you can’t go over alone. We don’t know if the guy’s armed, or what he’s planning to do.’
‘I know that,’ she said, pausing at the entrance to the alleyway. ‘But the longer we wait here, the longer he has to make up his mind. I’ve met him. He didn’t strike me as a violent man, just a broken one. I don’t think he would want to hurt those kids. Not really. He’s doing it because he thinks he has to. I let Lebowski go. That’s twice he’s had to watch the guy walk free. If I can talk to him – convince him that hurting the children won’t help – maybe he’ll give himself up.’
‘And what if he’s armed?’ Aaron asked, joining her and Sasha on the pavement.
‘With what?’ Jane asked. ‘The guy’s broke. He doesn’t have a gun, that’s for sure. I don’t know what he hit me with, but as long as I don’t turn my back on him . . . and give myself room to run, I’ll be fine. I’ll take Sasha’s belt with me, so I’ve at least got pepper spray and a baton. I’ve got my radio. If he makes a move, or even looks like he might be a threat to me or those children, I’ll call you. Besides, we don’t even know for sure that he’s here. It’s a hunch. My hunch. If he is, I’ll try and talk him round. If he isn’t, then . . . ’
‘We’ll come with you, boss,’ Sasha said, unclipping her belt and handing it to Jane.
Jane took the belt and slung it around her waist. It was heavier than she remembered. ‘Okay, bring your radios, but put them on silent. I don’t want to risk spooking him. That’s if he’s even here.’ She was beginning to doubt herself. ‘Hang back, out of sight, and wait for my call. Understood?’ They both nodded. She waited for Aaron to run back to the car, pick up the radios and lock the squad car, and then the three of them walked down the alleyway in silence.
When they reached the end of the allotments Jane stopped. She indicated where she wanted Sasha and Aaron to wait, before opening the small gate and stepping onto a gravelled path. There was no way she could approach on that without being heard. She side-stepped onto a runner of grass and moved forward with almost no noise. From the map they had at the station, the plot where Amelia’s body was found was about three-quarters of the way down. She couldn’t see any light ahead of her. Maybe he wasn’t here. She checked her radio and continued on the grass, looking around her every two to three steps. Her head was throbbing. She stopped and listened. A train was coming. She waited for it to pass, holding her breath as the almost deafening noise reverberated around the allotments. She was surrounded by turned earth. It looked black in the moonlight. A shiver ran down her back as the tomb appeared in her mind.
Another sound made her stop. She ducked behind a lean-to shed. She could hear laughter. It was then that she saw the light, very faint, about fifty yards in front of her. She peered around the edge of the wooden structure. It was coming from a full-size shed standing in the middle of a large plot. There was no way to tell if the laughter had come from inside. She turned and looked back. She couldn’t see Aaron or Sasha. She must be about 150 yards into the allotment. She checked her radio again. If she raised the alarm it wouldn’t take them more than a minute to get to her.
Without giving herself time to think, she started forward, being careful where she put her feet. She could hear someone coughing as she approached the shed. There was a window in the door and one on the side facing her. She crept forward, hunched over until she was beneath the side-window. She held her breath and inched her head up until she could just see over the ledge. Gary was sitting with his back to her, a balaclava rolled up on his head. She risked standing up another few inches to get a better view. Her breath caught in her throat. He was looking at a small television screen. The picture was black-and-white. The image was blurred, but she could see two small figures huddled together. One of the girls was moving, but the other was still. Too still. He was watching them die. But where were they?
She ducked her head and rested down on her haunches. She had to get to those girls. Without making a sound, she moved crab-like to the front of the shed. The earth was freshly turned. Her stomach clenched. Had he buried them, like Lebowski’s other victims? She stood up and approached the door. She put her hand on her belt. If Gary wouldn’t talk, she could spray him in seconds and have him cuffed before he had time to recover. She rested her hand on the doorknob, took a deep breath and pulled the door open. Gary turned at the sound, but didn’t move from where he was sitting. Jane opened her mouth to speak, but words failed her.
Lockyer could see the lights of the ambulance in the distance, but it seemed to be taking an age to get to them. ‘Almost here, mate,’ he said to the man, who was still sitting in what remained of a Nissan Micra.
‘My back,’ he moaned.
‘You’re all right,’ Lockyer said, looking at the mess that was the guy’s face. ‘The ambulance will be here any second. They’ll sort you out.’ The man, who was called Geoff, tried for the tenth time to get out of the car. ‘No. You stay put. They’ll want to check your back and neck before they move you. You’re going to be fine. Not sure you’ll make your anniversary dinner, but I’m sure your wife will forgive you.’
‘Are you married?’ Geoff asked.
‘Not any more,’ Lockyer said, craning his neck to watch the progress of the ambulance.
‘So, you should know that wives don’t forgive. They tell you they do, but that’s bullshit. They just hold onto it for the next time you have a row, then it’ll get thrown back in your face.’ Lockyer couldn’t help smiling. It had been a long time since he had experienced the wonder that was married life, but Geoff’s description rang true. ‘She’ll say I was driving too fast, or texting, or drinking, or looking at another woman. It’ll be my fault. I can tell you that much.’ Geoff stopped speaking and grimaced. ‘Shit, this hurts. I can’t see.’
‘Nothing to worry about, Geoff. You’ve got a bit of blood in your eyes, that’s all. Head-wounds bleed like nobody’s business, even with a small cut.’ He didn’t think Geoff needed to know that his head was cracked down the middle like a melon. ‘Here they are,’ he said, as the paramedic jogged up the road to meet them. Lockyer stepped back and put his hand on Geoff’s shoulder as he briefed the medic. ‘Traffic should be here any minute,’ he said. He bent down into the car. ‘Right, Geoff. I’m going to leave you with the ambulance crew. They’ll look after you.’