THEN SHE RAN an absolutely gripping crime thriller with a massive twist Page 21

  ‘Understood, sir. As soon as George gets here we will see what we know collectively and I’ll be able to call you with a summary.’

  ‘Good to hear. Speak soon.’ Whittaker pressed the button with gusto to end the call. He expelled air and glanced over at George. ‘Superintendent Ian Jackson,’ he said, gesturing at the phone. ‘He’s very interested, as you can imagine.’

  George could imagine. Major Crime was his baby. It had been his career to this point at just about every rank. The Chief Constable himself tended to use Jackson to oversee anything that might threaten the reputation of the force. This was clearly something in that category. ‘We’d better not mess this up then, sir.’ George offered.

  ‘That is precisely what he was just saying. Only I think he used the phrase coherent response.’

  ‘Same thing, right?’

  ‘Exactly. And our response has been good, people. I think we’ve made good headway. The coherent bit might have been missing but that’s inevitable with such a fast-moving investigation. The idea of this get-together is to talk about what we all know so then we can all know what we all know. Does that make sense?’

  ‘Not really, sir,’ Emily offered.

  ‘No, I suppose it doesn’t. I think I’m more tired than I thought.’

  ‘We know what you mean!’ Emily said.

  ‘Well, good. So I’ll start.’ Whittaker positioned himself in front of the timeline. It was far busier than the last time George had seen it. ‘So, shots fired here, at the beginning of our timeline at around 11 a.m. Sunday morning. Numerous reports. We also have an RTC and patrols are deployed. We now know that a vehicle was being pursued by a dark-coloured van and shots were fired between the two. The crashed vehicle is still with forensics but it has a number of bullet holes and also pellets from what we believe to be a shotgun. So, two different types of gun. The car then comes to a rather sudden stop on London Road, Dover, just outside of the Lucky Inn Chinese restaurant. There is limited CCTV from a premises on the other side of the road that gives a long distance view. The van is then seen to stop on the other side of the road and a person alights from the passenger seat. He is described by witnesses as a male carrying a long-barrelled firearm. Our missing female then gets out of the passenger side of the crashed car and she goes out of view when she walks around to the pavement. Again from witnesses, we know that she got hold of her baby and made off from the scene on foot. The CCTV then shows the armed man approach the vehicle and he appears to fire into the crashed car, through the passenger window. Shortly after this, the van comes back into shot — we can only assume it went around the one-way system — and it stops right by the crashed car. Two people are seen to exit this van and they drag someone from the car and throw them into the back.’

  ‘So it’s a kidnapping? I thought he died at the scene?’ George said.

  ‘So did we — initially.’ Whittaker pointed at a name written on the timeline. ‘Oliver Adams is the deceased from this scene. Witness accounts tell that he was walking past, he was on the pavement — going about his daily business. He was carrying shopping bags and lives nearby. The car crash happened close to him and he went to the aid of the occupants. He was seen talking to the female just before she ran away. It is thought that he was in the crossfire when the gunman attempted to stop her from fleeing.’

  ‘Poor bastard.’

  ‘Quite. And of course we know there was to be a poor bastard number two. We’ll come onto him. So, our woman and baby run into a supermarket car park a few streets over and she is pursued on foot. More shots are fired and a uniform patrol are drawn into the action. They find a healthy baby girl on the bonnet of their car and no sign of the mother. The woman — and we presume the gunman — have continued on foot down a path that leads alongside the river. And here is poor bastard number two, as promised.’

  ‘Stephen Maddocks?’ George said.

  ‘The very same.’

  ‘I still can’t believe it. He’s a bit simple, he’s got a fascination with all things police. A bit of a timewaster, but harmless enough. He probably heard the sirens, he would have come out to see what was going on.’

  ‘That sounds like our man. Whatever his reason for being there, it would appear that Mr Maddocks does his best to help. Certainly he is local to that area and he is seen to walk back towards his house with a female. So we assume he was on the river path and she would have been very distressed. They are followed back to his home address where Stephen is shot dead. The female has again managed to escape on foot. Blood and forensics suggest that she made it out of the back way. And let me tell you, she has done very well. The back yard is entirely enclosed by an eight-foot wall. It seems fear can put a real spring in your step.’

  ‘It would do too. She probably saw Maddocks get blown away right in front of her. You would run, wouldn’t you?’

  ‘Yes, you would. And that is the last we see of our girl on that day. We have other possible sightings and they are still being processed and looked into. But the next confirmed sighting is the following day when a female makes contact, stating that she is with our missing girl and wishes to bring her into the police station. This is arranged and the vehicle she is travelling in is ambushed en route. Rather impressively, our girl manages to get away, again on foot. And we’ve heard nothing since. One can hardly blame her for not wanting to make herself known again.’

  ‘And nothing came from the leak?’ Mel Richards directed her question at George.

  ‘No. I mean, there is still work that can be done around that, but nothing immediately. An FCR call-taker received an advance payment and was told to call a number with any information about the missing girl. He did as he was asked. We don’t know how he came to be targeted, but I do think it was a case of him being targeted, rather than him being involved. I don’t think for a second that he knows who paid him the money.’

  ‘So the trail went a little cold,’ Whittaker continued. ‘But George, here, has an update that links a job he has been working — and gives us all a lot more work to do. George?’

  ‘Well, yes, you will all know there was a shooting in the early hours of Sunday morning. Stanley and Janice Wingmore, up in Elham, were visited by some unwelcome guests who tricked them into opening their front door. They then demanded money and, when it wasn’t forthcoming, they shot Mrs Wingmore dead. Source information tells us that Stanley Wingmore, at least, was known to the gang in some way and they also went there with the belief that there was a large amount of money at the location.’

  ‘Is there?’

  ‘Paul and I are just back from there. The search team are currently doing what they do best. Forensics have been through the house, too. I will arrange for a cash dog to sweep it if necessary. One hundred grand is the figure. That’s a lot of paper to hide.’

  ‘Is it a big place?’

  ‘It’s a big estate. There are outbuildings that haven’t been touched. I can’t say it isn’t there.’

  ‘A hundred grand though? Where does that come from?’

  ‘I don’t know. It’s either a lifetime of farming, or a crooked son.’

  ‘Go on?’ Whittaker leant in.

  ‘I spent some time with Stan. He’s taken it hard — so hard that he tried to hang himself in his barn. Paul saved his life, but his brain was starved of oxygen long enough to cause some damage. He’s lost his short-term memory and some of his caution.’

  ‘His caution?’

  ‘Yes, he told me about his son — straight off the bat when he came to. He didn’t mention him at all the first time around.’

  ‘So you think he was hiding something?’

  ‘There’s no question he was hiding something, it’s just whether it is relevant or not.’

  ‘It has to be relevant, doesn’t it?’

  ‘I think so. They’ve found a load of documentation. Some of it relates to a Joseph Wingmore. There’s also correspondence with a Joseph Cooper.’

  ‘Same person?’

  ‘We shall
see. We’ll be giving the house back to Mr Wingmore tomorrow when he and his daughter come back from the hospital. They will have some questions to answer too. I also happen to know a very good intelligence officer who has made a career of getting to the bottom of this sort of thing.’

  Emily sat back in her chair, her arms folded. ‘Sure. But in the morning, George.’

  ‘Oh yes, Emily,’ Whittaker cut in. ‘We are most definitely done for the day. I will be back in around seven. Is there anything more to share, George?’

  ‘No, sir. I think that’s about it. I want to revisit Stan. Like I said, he’ll be discharged tomorrow. Hopefully the timing will work out and we will clear the scene in time for him to go home.’

  ‘What’s the deal with the short-term memory, George? Is that still going to be a factor?’ Whittaker asked.

  ‘Yes, sir. The neurologist couldn’t tell me how long it would last for. He doesn’t think it will be permanent but he couldn’t promise that it wouldn’t be either.’

  ‘But our Stan . . . he knows what happened?’

  ‘He didn’t, not any of it. I had to give him the death message, sir. I had to break his heart all over again.’

  ‘Jesus, man, that’s not ideal. What about the house? Is there the need for a clean-up? I can’t have the poor old bastard turning up to that.’

  ‘I’ve sorted it, sir.’

  ‘George paid for it out of his own money, sir,’ Emily cut in. She eyed George as she did. ‘This was before he had any memory issues. George didn’t want him cleaning up what was left of his wife.’

  ‘Quite right, too. Why didn’t you use my budget, George? I won’t have you paying for something like that.’

  Emily was quick again, ‘I think sometimes George forgets that other people care about our victims, sir. It’s a fault. A good one, but a fault all the same.’ Emily’s gaze was still locked on George. Her discourse was impossible to miss.

  ‘Well, we’ve had a long day and we’re all very tired.’ Whittaker announced. ‘I think budget is definitely something that can wait for the morning. The way I see it, this investigation splits two ways . . . George, Paul and Emily . . . I want you to continue your work on Stan and the son. Mel and Jason will stick with me and the rest of the incident room and we will carry on trying to find our missing runaway. Somewhere between those two are all the answers we need. Does anyone have anything to add that we might need to know right now?’

  There were mumbled negatives around the table and then they all got up. Emily was out of the door before George could even call out her name. He watched her through the glass as she made for the exit. Whittaker was right: they were all tired. They would achieve nothing more that night.

  Chapter 25

  Jenny saw bright lights, unsettled and moving quickly. They were coming towards her. She was exhausted. All of a sudden the lights were gone. The sea washed over her; she felt the weight of it on her back, she could taste it strongly in her mouth and it stung her throat. She scraped against the beach. The pebbles moved underneath her; they bumped and smacked against her as the waves slid back out. Her breath came in short gasps.

  The lights were closer and shone directly in her eyes. She reached out her hand to try and grip the beach and stop herself being sucked back into the wash, but her strength was spent and there was little she could do. The water rolled back over the top of her and she felt the pebbles on top of her this time. She was being buried and drowned at the same time. She was resigned to it. She stopped trying.

  She felt rough hands under her shoulders. The grip was firm and strong and her face emerged from the sea. She was above the water now, looking down at it. Her bare feet scraped on the pebbles. She heard excited shouts.

  ‘That’s it! Get her out!’

  She tried to take in a deep breath but still choked on salty water.

  ‘Alright, love, stay calm. You’ve taken on some water.’ She was lowered down, still fighting for breath. The beach was solid and unforgiving on her back. She was tugged on to her side and was promptly as sick as a dog. It just kept coming: water and bile that frothed like the sea from which she had just been pulled. The lights were still bright, she couldn’t make out any details of the people around her. They were still talking, they still sounded excited. She finally got her breath.

  ‘You’re going to be okay,’ someone said. The same voice then shouted, ‘SHE’S OVER HERE!’ He must have moved his feet; she felt pebbles push against her head. She still gulped the air. She was facing the sky. She could make out the stars. Her whole body shook violently in a shiver. She no longer felt cold, though — just numb.

  She was aware of more people around her. More lights. The first voice she heard was back talking to her, telling her she was going to be okay. She could see a bit of him now. He had a boyish face and was wearing a head torch.

  Someone put a blanket over her. She was rolled back onto her side, and when she was rolled back again it was softer on her skin. Then she was lifted into the air. She was on a stretcher of sorts and was moving up the beach. She could hear heavy footfalls on the pebbles, as if they were struggling with her. It seemed like an age before the scrunch of pebbles stopped. By then, vivid white light was all around her and she narrowed her eyes to it. Someone bent over her, a woman wearing a lurid green with yellow epaulettes.

  ‘How are you feeling?’

  Jenny tried to talk. She opened her mouth and could only grunt. Her body was shivering so hard now; she couldn’t stop.

  ‘We’re going to strip you down and then bring you back up to a good temperature, okay? It’s not really the night to be out for a swim, you know!’ She chuckled but Jenny could see the concern in her face. ‘What’s your name?’

  ‘J-J-J-J-Jenny.’

  The woman smiled. ‘Jenny, right?’

  Jenny jerked a nod, her whole body still contorted in shivers.

  ‘Well, Jenny, it’s lovely to meet you. Another few minutes in that water and I don’t reckon we would have. But you’re going to be just fine now, okay?’

  Jenny managed another nod. She felt the warmth of a tear on her cheek. She was aware she was being pulled around, the woman gave her another reassuring smile as she hovered above her with scissors. She cut off her top and it was replaced quickly by a blanket that rustled like foil. A softer blanket was laid on top of that. The woman spoke to someone, her voice raised a little. Jenny was again aware of being moved. She didn’t know where. She didn’t care anymore.

  Chapter 26

  George was lying on his sofa at 5 a.m. again when his phone went off. He had been asleep this time though. A shopping channel played softly on the television. George instantly felt terrible.

  ‘Hello?’

  ‘George! Sorry for the rude awakening, old boy.’ John Whittaker sounded wide awake.

  ‘Don’t worry about it, Major. Seems like it’s the week for it. What can I do for you?’

  ‘Nothing really, George. I just wanted a chat, you know. I couldn’t sleep.’ George’s eyes flicked to the clock hanging on his wall. He was about to make a point when Whittaker started laughing.

  ‘Very good, Major.’

  ‘Too early for banter, old boy? I’ve had a call. There’s been a development.’

  ‘That sounds more like it. Where do you need me?’

  ‘William Harvey Hospital.’

  ‘I’m on my way.’

  George was there in twenty-five minutes. He made for the accident and emergency entrance since he knew it was open twenty-four hours and it was the only place with any movement. Sure enough, Whittaker was in the waiting area, sat on the edge of a plastic chair. George took in the waiting room and did nothing to hide his surprise at how many people were having medical emergencies at five thirty in the morning. Whittaker stood up and then George noticed that Ryker was there too. Whittaker nodded and immediately walked into the corridor, away from the waiting masses. Emily followed but stayed silent and didn’t acknowledge George.

  ‘Has there been
some sort of natural disaster I wasn’t aware of?’ George said. ‘I thought this was the quiet time for A and E.’

  ‘State of the NHS these days, George. Some of these poor bastards have probably been here for hours.’

  ‘Where are we going then, Major?’

  ‘Well, I was going to wait for Mel Richards, but we appear to have an opportunity, George. I received a call from the night duty DS. Seems a female was pulled out of the sea last night. A group of night fishermen found her. She was in a bad way, suffering the effects of exposure, exhaustion and a few other bits and pieces. Half-drowned by all accounts. It took a little while for them to work out who she is, but it’s our girl, George. It’s the runaway.’

  ‘You’re sure?’

  ‘Certain. I mean, I haven’t met her yet, but she’s spoken briefly to a couple of uniform officers and told them as much. She’s shaken up, I hear, but I wanted to talk to her before we lose her to medical procedures and sleep.’

  ‘I agree with that.’

  ‘Well, good. I figured this is your thing. I mean, I was determined to find a use for you somewhere!’

  ‘Very good, Major.’

  ‘Of course we just need to find her first.’ George could see Whittaker was peering up at the hanging signs. He stopped and looked in opposite directions. He set off again. George tried to catch Emily’s eye and rolled his eyes playfully at the old man struggling with his directions. She was still ignoring him.

  A passing nurse helped with directions. It was obvious when they were getting close to their witness. George could see two bored-looking firearms officers in chairs that had been placed untidily out in the corridor. They snapped to attention as Whittaker approached.

  ‘Morning, men. Thanks for coming out. We have a VIP it seems?’ He grinned and they both relaxed.

  ‘As we understand, sir. We have both corridors covered with patrols. I can hear from the radio chatter that there are other patrols coming down to sit out the front.’