Deadly Vengeance: A gripping crime thriller full of twists and turns (Detective Jane Phillips Book 3)

by OMJ Ryan

‘I certainly would if he was my dad!’ said Phillips. ‘So, what about the ex-wife; where is she?’

  Bov shuffled some papers, taking a moment to answer. ‘Er, looks like she lives in France. Runs a boutique guesthouse in Brittany.’

  ‘Does he have a girlfriend – or maybe a boyfriend, even?’ asked Phillips.

  ‘Not that I can see. Looks like he’s a bit of a loner, by all accounts.’

  Phillips took a moment to process the information.

  ‘That’s as much as I’ve found so far, Guv,’

  ‘You’ve done well, Bov,’ said Phillips.

  ‘Do you want me to keep digging?’

  ‘No, that’ll do for now,’ said Phillips. ‘We’ve got more important things to worry about, like finding Hollie. How’s Entwistle getting on with Robbins’s and Cartwright’s backgrounds?’

  ‘I dunno, but he’s sat opposite me, looking as gormless as ever.’ Bovalino chortled. ‘Do you want me to transfer you?’

  Just then, Phillips’s phone began to beep. Checking the screen, she could see Fox was on the other line. ‘No, not right now. Fox is calling me. I’d better see what she wants. Tell Entwistle we’ll be back in the office in twenty minutes, and I want a full update ready.’

  ‘Will do, Guv.’

  ‘Thanks Bov.’ She ended the call and answered Fox’s. ‘Ma’am?’

  At Ashton House, Phillips followed Jones up the stairs from the car park to the fifth floor.

  ‘You ok, Jonesy?’ she asked, noting his slumped posture and heavy legs.

  Jones glanced back over his shoulder, but continued upwards. ‘Fine, Guv.’

  She suspected he wasn’t telling the whole truth. ‘You’re not worried about the meeting with Fox, are you?’

  He shook his head softly. ‘No, of course not.’ His words lacked conviction.

  ‘Like she said on the call, it’s just a debrief. Nothing to worry about.’

  Jones reached the landing on the fifth floor and turned to face Phillips. ‘So why does she want me in there? You always handle this stuff.’

  Phillips joined him on the landing and placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. ‘Maybe she’s getting rid of me and wants you to take over.’ She grinned.

  Jones’s eyes widened. ‘Don’t even joke about shit like that.’

  Phillips chuckled. ‘Well, whatever she wants, we’ll find out soon enough. Come on.’

  A few minutes later, they were ushered into Fox’s office by Ms Blair.

  Fox, as usual, was in full uniform. Her glasses were perched on the end of her tanned nose, which contrasted her cheaply dyed blonde hair, and she was perusing a thick file. As was her wont, she took some moments before she acknowledged them, but when she did, her trademark Cheshire Cat smile spread across her face. ‘DCI Phillips, and DS Jones. Please, take a seat.’

  As they each took a chair opposite Fox, she scribbled something in the margin of the report she’d been reading, and placed it to one side on her large, frosted-glass desk, along with her glasses.

  ‘So, tell me about your visit to the Hawkins’s this morning. Where are we at with tracing their daughter?’

  Phillips explained the details of the video, and the demands delivered through Hollie’s message to her father.

  Fox raised an eyebrow when she heard the terms. ‘A week to find the money? I see.’ She tapped her pen on her veneered teeth. ‘Why a week?’

  ‘We have no idea, Ma’am,’ said Phillips.

  ‘And what was Saxby’s take on it all?’

  Phillips shrugged. ‘Nothing exceptional. To be honest, he advised Mr Hawkins in exactly the same way I would have done.’

  ‘Which was?’

  ‘Play along, for now, until we have more information.’

  ‘And what do you make of him?’ asked Fox.

  ‘Hawkins?’ said Phillips.

  ‘No. Saxby.’

  Phillips blew her lips gently as she searched for the most diplomatic response. ‘Well, he’s, erm…well, he’s very Met Police Ma’am.’

  ‘What do you mean by that?’

  ‘It’s just that he thinks he knows better than everyone else.’

  ‘And does he?’ pushed Fox.

  Phillips shook her head. ‘Based on the evidence I’ve seen so far, I’d have to say no. Seems quite old-school.’

  Fox turned her attention to Jones now. ‘What about you, DS Jones? What’s your take on him?’

  Jones, unprepared for the question, shifted in his seat and cleared his throat. ‘Er, well, like the Guv said, he’s very “Met Police”, Ma’am.’

  Fox’s eyes narrowed. ‘Now, DS Jones. I’m quite sure you have more to offer than merely parroting your DCI.’

  Jones’s mouth fell open as he searched for the right words.

  ‘And be honest, Jones,’ said Fox, her gaze unflinching. ‘You can speak freely in here.’

  Phillips’s heart went out to Jones as she watched him squirm in his chair. Fox was playing with him like a cat with an injured bird. She loved to put people on the back foot, as she believed it forced them into telling the truth. It was a technique she had used to great effect in the past, back when she herself was a DCI.

  ‘Erm, well, Ma’am. It's just that he’s quite superior in his approach, and appears unwilling to listen to any opinions that don’t match his own.’

  Fox stared at Jones in silence for a long moment before she nodded and turned her attention back to Phillips. ‘Right. Well, whatever either of you think of Saxby, I’ve been told, in no uncertain terms, by Chief Constable Morris, that he’s here for the duration of the investigation. He’s even been given his own office – two doors down from mine.’ Fox appeared to snarl a bit as she shared this development. Acquiring an office on the fifth floor was seen as a rite of passage, a privilege reserved for the ranks of Superintendent and above. ‘So, it would seem he gets whatever he wants.’

  Phillips knew there was little to be gained from arguing against Saxby’s involvement, especially if the directive had come down from the chief constable himself. ‘We’ll do what we can to accommodate him, Ma’am,’ she said through gritted teeth.

  Fox continued. ‘Apparently Sir Richard has connections in Downing Street and personally asked for them to intervene, which puts us in a very difficult situation. Chief Constable Morris is not happy. He sees it as a slight on the Greater Manchester Police that we’ve been forced to take on outside help, particularly on such an important case. He spent most of this morning’s briefing telling me how pissed off he was – the stupid old fool.’

  Phillips quashed the grin that flashed to her lips. It was no secret Fox thought Chief Constable Morris should have retired years ago. Everyone in Ashton House knew she had designs on his job – including Morris.

  ‘I want this case wrapped up in double time. I don’t care how you do it, just find Hollie Hawkins alive, and quickly. Ideally before any money is handed over. Do you understand?’

  Phillips and Jones nodded in unison. ‘Yes, Ma’am.’

  ‘This is a high-profile case. I want to show Morris how it’s done. Maybe then he’ll finally piss off and retire.’

  ‘Understood, Ma’am,’ said Phillips.

  ‘Right. Well, as you’ve only got seven days to find her, I think it’s time you two pissed off, don’t you?’

  ‘Of course, Ma’am,’ said Phillips, without feeling, as she pushed back her chair and stood.

  Jones couldn’t get out of his chair quick enough, which made Phillips smile to herself as they left.

  A few minutes later, they walked along the third-floor corridor towards the Major Crimes Incident Room.

  ‘So the pressure’s really ramped up on this one then, Guv?’ said Jones.

  Phillips stopped walking and exhaled loudly. ‘Looks that way, Jonesy.’

  ‘So what’s the plan?’

  ‘The plan?’ Phillips checked to ensure they were alone before answering, in hushed tones, ‘The plan is, we avoid Saxby wherever possible, and we sweat the only lea
ds we have so far – Robbins and Cartwright.’

  ‘Do you really think they were involved?’

  ‘At this stage I couldn’t say either way, but the military angle definitely needs further investigation.’

  ‘Agreed.’

  ‘Right. So, first things first. Let’s see what Entwistle has managed to dig up on each of them. We can go from there.’

  Jones nodded before Phillips turned on her heels and made her way towards the Incident Room.

  9

  Following the meeting with Fox, Phillips debriefed the team, then despatched Jones and Bovalino back to Marstons to have another conversation with Robbins. Entwistle had found nothing untoward in his background, but Phillips was keen to see how he would react when talking to two male officers, particularly one as physically imposing and masculine as Bovalino. Over-sharing due to ego had been the downfall of many a hardened male criminal, and from what she had observed during their interactions so far, Robbins was what she would call a ‘man’s man’. Maybe, if he felt more comfortable talking to men, he would let something slip.

  As for Cartwright, Entwistle had faced a number of challenges in accessing any information regarding her military career. The data he had been able to locate so far only went back as far as 2014. Nothing before that date. That in itself set alarms bells ringing, and Phillips instructed him to keep digging as a matter of urgency.

  An hour later, Jones opened the door to Robbins’s office – without knocking – and stepped inside with Bovalino just behind him.

  Robbins’s head shot up from his laptop, which he closed with one rapid movement. His wide eyes traced Bovalino’s large frame as he stepped into full view.

  ‘Can I help you officers?’ he said.

  Jones feigned innocence. 'I’m sorry, Mr Robbins. Did we disturb you?’

  Robbins forced a thin smile and shook his head. ‘Not at all. How can I help?’

  ‘I should introduce my partner, Detective Constable Bovalino.’

  Bovalino offered his large hand, which Robbins shook with vigour.

  ‘Do you have a minute?’ asked Jones.

  Robbins gestured for them to sit down opposite him. ‘Of course. Can I get you gents a tea or coffee? A soft drink, perhaps?’

  ‘No thank you,’ said Jones. ‘If you don’t mind, I’ll get straight to the point.’

  Robbins’s brow furrowed. ‘Go on.’

  Bovalino pulled out his notepad and pen as Jones continued. ‘Can you talk us through your movements on the night Hollie Hawkins was taken?’

  ‘Well, I was here all night.’

  ‘Where, specifically?’

  ‘I was in my office mainly, as well as out and about across the clubhouse and tennis courts.’

  ‘And what about when Hollie was taken?’ pushed Jones. ‘Can you tell us where you were at that time?’

  Robbins thrust his chin out in defiance as he opened his laptop. ‘No, but I can show you.’ He tapped at the keyboard for a moment before turning it to face Jones and Bovalino. CCTV footage played on the small screen.

  ‘Check the timestamp on the video,’ said Robbins. ‘Eight p.m. As you can see, I was in the restaurant, talking to the maître d’ at the time. The restaurant is on the opposite side of the club to the air conditioning units and golf pro shop, where Hollie was taken from.’ Robbins then sped up the footage to double time.

  Jones and Bovalino watched on as they viewed Robbins’s movements through the next fifteen minutes of footage, from the restaurant into the main bar, then along to Green’s office before heading back into his office. Robbins paused the video, then leaned back into his large, leather chair and folded his arms. ‘I’m visible the entire time when Hollie was taken.’

  Jones cleared his throat. ‘It certainly appears that way.’

  Robbins seemed very pleased. ‘So, I’m in the clear, right?’

  Jones knew better than to take anything at face value, but the footage did seem to eliminate Robbins, for now. He nodded. ‘Like I say, it certainly appears that way.’

  Robbins clasped his hands together, sat forwards and spun the laptop back to face him. ‘In that case, let me show you something else.’ Once again, he tapped at the keyboard for a few moments before he turned the laptop back so Jones and Bovalino could see the screen. ‘Watch this.’

  Jones and Bovalino watched as more CCTV footage unfolded. Jones noted the timestamp: 7.23 p.m.

  ‘This is the corridor that leads to the ladies’ and gents’ toilets, leading off from the main bar,’ Robbins explained. ‘Looking here, you can see party guests in fancy dress, heading down the corridor and then turning left, out of sight.’ Robbins tapped on the screen with his pen. ‘Around that corner is where the toilets are located.’

  They watched for another few minutes as the party guests reappeared and headed back towards the camera, each of them easily recognisable by their Halloween costumes.

  ‘You with me so far?’ asked Robbins.

  Jones and Bovalino nodded.

  ‘Now watch this,’ said Robbins, just as three figures appeared on screen from around the same corner, walking in a V-formation. Each was dressed in identical dark clothing, long coats and gloves, and wearing identical masks.

  Robbins hit pause on the video, and a wide grin spread across his face. ‘These guys are definitely ex-military. Combat veterans too.’

  ‘How can you tell?’ asked Bovalino.

  ‘The way they move. When you’ve been there, detective, you can spot a combat veteran a mile off.’

  Robbins pointed to the figure leading the way. ‘I think this one could be female.’

  Jones’s eyes narrowed as he stared at the still image. ‘How can you tell?’

  ‘It’s just the way she moves, her gait. It’s very, very subtle, but it seems different to the others.’

  Jones continued to scrutinise the footage for a long moment before he recoiled. ‘Hang on a second. Where did they suddenly come from?’

  ‘Exactly!’ Robbins’s grin grew even wider. ‘We never saw those three go into the toilets from this side. Just coming into the club from that direction.’

  ‘Is there an external exit down there?’ asked Jones.

  ‘Yes, a fire door.’

  ‘Alarmed?’ said Jones.

  ‘Ordinarily, yes—’ Robbins reached into a folder on his desk and pulled out a sheet of paper, which he handed to Jones. ‘—but I’ve checked the logs for the night and the alarm was deactivated for that particular door at around 5 p.m. that afternoon.’

  Jones reviewed the data in his hand for a moment, then passed it Bovalino.

  ‘So, who was guarding it that afternoon?’ said Jones.

  Robbins’s face fell as he cleared his throat. ‘Look, I know what you’re going to think, but I’m telling you, it wasn’t her.’

  ‘Let me guess. Cartwright? said Jones.

  Robbins nodded, and leaned back into his chair again, drumming his fingers on the edge of his desk. ‘Trust me, this just isn’t Sam’s style. It’s not in her nature. She’s a professional operator, one of my best, in fact—’

  ‘But she’s also ex-military and, by your own admission, this crew is most definitely military trained,’ Jones interrupted.

  Robbins sighed. ‘I know that. But I’m telling you, Sam wasn’t involved.’

  Jones offered a thin smile. ‘Well, luckily that’s for us to determine. Is she here today?’

  ‘No. It’s her day off. She’s back in on the late shift tomorrow night.’

  ‘Do you have her address? We’ll need to speak with her as soon as possible.’

  Robbins went to work on the laptop once more, then scribbled on a Post-it Note and handed it to Jones.

  ‘Thank you, Mr Robbins,’ Jones said as he took the note. ‘You’ve been very helpful.’

  ‘My pleasure. Anything I can do to help find Hollie, just let me know.’

  Jones and Bovalino took their leave and headed for the door. As Bovalino opened it, Jones turned back t
o Robbins for a moment. ‘Oh, and please. Keep what we’ve just discussed between us. It’s important we limit the flow of information on this one to a very select few.’

  This seemed to please Robbins, who pulled his shoulders back, his eyes gleaming. ‘Understood, Sergeant, understood.’

  10

  Paying a visit to Saxby’s office was the last thing Phillips wanted to do with such an urgent case on her hands. However, she knew that if she left her colleague from the Met to his own devices, it would most likely cause more grief than if she kept him at close quarters. So she made the pilgrimage to his hastily set up temporary office on the fifth floor. The door was open as she arrived, and he looked surprised to see her when she knocked.

  ‘DCI Phillips. To what do I owe the pleasure this late in the evening?’

  ‘Can I come in?’

  ‘Of course,’ Saxby replied, gesturing for her to take the seat opposite.

  Phillips sat and surveyed the room. It was normally used as a private meeting space for the top brass but, under orders from the chief constable, the tables had been rearranged so it now looked like an expansive office.

  ‘Looks like you’re getting your feet under the table,’ she observed. ‘You planning on staying awhile?’

  Saxby leaned back in his chair as a wide grin spread across his face. ‘As long as it takes.’

  Phillips nodded. ‘So, what exactly is your role in this investigation? I’ve yet to figure that out.’

  Saxby looked puzzled. ‘I thought it was pretty clear. I’m a kidnapping and negotiation expert.’

  ‘I see. So, what exactly does that entail? Because as far as I can see, you’ve been here for two days now, and so far offered sweet FA in regards to helping us find Hollie.’

  ‘Chief Inspector,’ said Saxby with a chortle, ‘I’m not here to help you find her. I’m here to help you communicate with the kidnappers – as well as to be the direct liaison with Sir Richard and his wife.’

  ‘In that case, what were you doing at Marston’s on the day we met?’

  ‘I may not be a foot soldier, but I’m not immune to a short recce every now and again.’