The Bone Hill

by James D Mortain

  Deans scratched behind his ear. ‘We need to go through Ranford and Babbage’s belongings again. There will sure to be links to this stuff.’

  ‘Agreed. Perhaps I can leave that with you to liaise with detained property.’

  ‘Of course. Did Sarah say when she would be back?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Did she say if she was doing anything after visiting the jeweller?’ Deans asked.

  ‘Nope.’ Jackson glanced at the clock on the wall and then at his watch. ‘Don’t you have her number?’ Jackson asked.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Just give her a quick call and see how long she’ll be. I don’t particularly want to be here all night.’

  Deans dialled her number. It went straight to voicemail.

  ‘No signal,’ Deans said. ‘She must be driving back.’

  Jackson came over to Deans’ desk. He sat on the edge of the table and loomed large over Deans.

  ‘This is going to be the biggest operation this district has ever seen if we can’t resolve it ourselves.’

  Deans nodded.

  ‘We would need coordinated warrants at God knows how many addresses? We simply don’t have the resources to cope with anything like this, if it gets out of hand. It’s down to us to keep a lid on it.’ Jackson huffed. ‘Andy,’ he said softening his tone. ‘How sure are you about all of this? I mean, I don’t want egg on my face – do you know what I mean?’

  ‘I know it sounds far-fetched, but everything is pointing towards a cult operation.’

  Jackson inhaled deeply. ‘Yeah.’ He checked his watch again. ‘Christ, what is she doing?’

  ‘What time did Sarah head to the jeweller?’ Deans asked.

  ‘About three, and it’s almost seven-fifteen for Christ’s sake. I’m going to have to phone my misses. We were heading out tonight. Give her another go on the mobile, will you.’

  Deans agreed and Jackson left the office.

  Deans attempted three more calls over the ensuing ten minutes – still no signal. In the background, he could hear sirens howling in the police courtyard; first one, then two, and then another, just seconds later.

  That’s odd. Must be something meaty going down. He hadn’t heard a single siren outside the station since he’d been visiting there. He puffed out his cheeks. Time for a brew. He sauntered into the kitchen area, dragging his plastic boot behind him and made himself a black coffee with two heaped scoops. He returned to the office. Jackson was still out.

  He took a sip from his drink and frowned. He could hear more emergency vehicles passing the station at speed – different sirens. He went to an office with an outward facing window and looked out. He couldn’t see anything other than quickly dissipating strobe lights as the emergency vehicles sped on. He hadn’t seen the ambulance or fire engines, but assumed they were close by.

  He returned to his desk and entered the STORM application on the computer to read details of the ongoing emergency log. This was something most cops did, given half the chance and opportunity.

  He looked to the door – Jackson must have been having a bad time of it on the call home. He looked back at the screen and clicked on the ‘immediate’ list of ongoing calls. There was a list of seven. At the top of the log was a reported fire. He clicked the report to read the comms log of entries and sipped his coffee as the call data filled the screen.

  Informant reporting a large house blaze at end of Allen Road.

  Fire Brigade aware and attending.

  District units dispatched.

  Casualties unknown at this time.

  Property has been derelict for years.

  Deans put his mug down with a splash of hot coffee onto the back of his hand and he hurriedly scrolled further down the log.

  Caller does not know postal address, but states property is known locally as, “The Haunted house”.

  Deans sprang up from his seat and pulled out his phone. His instinct was to call someone, but who… Jackson?

  He rushed out to the hallway and called loudly for Jackson. He shouted again.

  Jackson’s face appeared around the frame of an office doorway. His phone still attached to his ear.

  ‘We need to go,’ Deans shouted urgently ushering Jackson towards him with his hands.

  Jackson scowled and dipped back away from view.

  Deans ran the best way he could and followed Jackson into the room and tugged his arm. ‘We have to go,’ Deans said. ‘It’s urgent.’

  ‘Look, I have to go, sweetness. Something obviously needs my pressing attention.’ Jackson’s furious eyes were speaking a different type of language to Deans.

  ‘Yeah, you too. Yeah… yeah… see you later. Bye. Bye. Bye… bye.’ Jackson ended the call and gave Deans a hard stare.

  ‘We’ve got to go to Sandymere Bay. Ruby Mansell’s house is on fire.’

  Jackson shrugged. ‘So. Leave it to uniform. If they suspect arson, it’ll have to go somewhere else to be investigated.’

  ‘Think about it,’ Deans snapped. ‘Where’s Sarah?’

  Deans could see the realisation dawn in Jackson’s face. ‘Oh shite!’

  He ran to the office and quickly scanned through the log on the computer screen and snatched his personal radio from his desk.

  ‘Romeo Hotel Two-zero,’ he said – not waiting to see if he was interrupting radio chatter, which was the usual protocol. ‘Romeo Hotel Two-zero, priority.’

  Romeo Hotel Two-zero – state your priority, communications replied.

  ‘Have any units arrived at the haunted house, yet?’ Jackson asked.

  Affirmative, comms replied. Six-three are at scene and a further three units are en-route, including Charlie Hotel Two-zero (Duty Inspector) and Four-zero (Duty Sergeant).

  ‘Thank you,’ Jackson said. ‘Be advised, all attending units – do not assume the premises are unoccupied.’

  The radio fell silent.

  ‘Romeo Hotel Two-zero, did you copy?’ Jackson said anxiously. ‘The premises are to be treated as occupied.’

  A short pause preceded comms’ response. Roger, Romeo Hotel Two-zero. All units attending the property fire at Allen Road. From Romeo Hotel Two-zero – the premises are to be treated as occupied. First attending units please inform fire brigade and provide an early update, please.

  ‘Is the FIM monitoring?’ Jackson asked impatiently.

  Negative, comms replied. The Force Incident Manager is monitoring another ongoing incident in Plymouth.

  ‘Make them aware now, please.’

  Roger. The comms operator paused. Am I to allocate you to this job also, Romeo Hotel Two-zero?

  ‘Yes,’ Jackson replied. ‘Put me down for that and I will be attending alongside Detective Andrew Deans.’

  CHAPTER 26

  The glow in the dark misty sky could be seen long before they arrived at the fire. Strobe lights from the emergency vehicles bounced and glistened off the fine night drizzle, like a million specs of blue and red glitter had been tossed into the air. There was something hypnotic about strobe lights in wet conditions.

  Deans climbed out of Jackson’s car and peered up at the crackling flames leaping far above the rooftop. Three police cars parked nose-to-tail kept a crowd of onlookers at a safe distance. Deans watched the frantic actions of the fire crew, barely spitting on the rooftop inferno. Although this place housed unspeakable horrors, it was clearly iconic and much loved to the local community.

  Jackson and Deans made their way through the police cordon and joined the duty skipper and lead fire officer at the front of the house.

  ‘It’s well established,’ the lead hand said.

  ‘Has anyone gone inside?’ Jackson asked.

  ‘Nobody is going inside there,’ the lead hand replied. ‘It’s an old building, the roof is well ablaze and I’m not risking the safety of my team on an empty property.’

  ‘Didn’t you get my radio transmission?’ Jackson asked.

  Before the late shift skipper could respond Jackson was in t
he face of the lead hand. ‘One of my team might be inside that building and I want you and your team to get her out.’

  ‘Might? Sorry, that’s a no go—’ The sound of tiles falling and smashing on the ground nearby made them all turn towards the house.

  ‘Deans, how certain are you that—’ Jackson stopped talking and did a three-sixty. ‘Where’s Deans?’

  The duty skipper shrugged. ‘Is that the guy you arrived with? I didn’t see where he went.’

  ‘Jesus, Deans!’ Jackson seethed through gritted teeth.

  ‘You need to keep your people out of that building,’ the fire officer said with his hand on Jackson’s shoulder. ‘It’s not safe. Lives are at risk.’

  Jackson scanned around the numerous police and fire vehicles, the strobes bouncing off his face, but there was no sign of Deans.

  ‘Okay,’ Jackson said. ‘Keep me updated.’ He pulled out his mobile phone and dialled Deans’ number. He held the phone tight to his head, but the sound of the pumps and of the roar from the blaze made any attempt to hear, near on impossible.

  Deans was outside of the police perimeter. All eyes were on the flames. He sidled to the edge of the ever-swelling crowd of onlookers and ducked below a thick evergreen bush growing next to the perimeter wall of the haunted house. The heat, even from this distance was almost unbearable against the fine chilled drizzle. Using the low wall as a marker, Deans manoeuvred further around to the back of the property. The night was jet black, but flames from the rooftop were sending just enough fingers of amber light for Deans to avoid the cliff edge.

  He was now in a cacophony of sound between the growling waves crashing beneath him on the black rocks, and the inferno high above. Stiff branches from overgrown bushes impeded his progress, but he continued onwards despite sharp twigs digging into his sides like hot knives. He was now also contending with the wash from wayward jets of hose-water.

  He was perilously close to the edge of the rocks, particularly given his restricted mobility, but he knew he was getting closer. And then he saw it; the small square opening in the footings of the brickwork.

  He took out his phone and shone a beam of light around the black void.

  ‘Sarah,’ he shouted. ‘Sarah?’ But there were no cries in response.

  The narrow strip of grass that he was currently occupying, ended two feet ahead and dropped away to a jagged rock face.

  He used the light to plot a pathway over the slippery obstacle and on to the cellar entrance – an agonizingly close ten feet away. He closed his eyes and inhaled a lung of the acrid smelling air. I might be with you sooner than I imagined, Maria.

  He reached forwards and gripped the tufts of a plant growing out from beneath the stonework of the low perimeter wall. He tested the integrity of the fixture by tugging at it with both hands. There was give, but he didn’t have time to dwell on the potential consequences of it failing to support him.

  His heart was pounding beneath his now sodden suit jacket. He dangled his good leg out over the precipice of the cliff edge and took the remainder of his body weight through a bent knee. Suddenly, the narrow grass lip he was occupying crumbled beneath him and his body swung violently to his right side. He peered up at his fists balled tightly around the base of the shrub and blindly prodded out a shoe until he found a solid surface to plant his foot upon. He was now at a diagonal angle, with his right foot connected to a rock, but he needed to let go with his hands to move forwards. A loud crack from above made him look up, as a large section of burning roof toppled in his direction.

  He let go of the plant and desperately grasped for something else to take his body weight. He hugged the cliff face and gritted his teeth as smoking clay tiles clattered all about him. A sharp triangle of rock came to his saviour and he steadied himself. The small square entrance was now just beyond arm’s length.

  ‘Sarah?’ he shouted. ‘Sarah, are you in there?’ He listened hard, but heard nothing.

  He edged along the stone ridge until his good foot was in the mouth of the square entrance. He manoeuvred his body and dropped down, scraping his hands against stone until they were secure once again. Hands bloodied and clothing ruined, he had reached his destination, but what was he going to find inside?

  CHAPTER 27

  Water dripped through the gaps in the floorboards above his head and down the back of his neck. The room was black, apart from the odd spark of burning debris dropping into the pit around him. Deans used the light of his phone again and pointed it towards the far wall; Sarah was there.

  ‘Sarah,’ Deans screamed and scampered across to her.

  She was sitting on the floor, back against the wall, her head drooped towards her lap and her left arm suspended out to the side.

  Deans gently lifted her head and shone the light around her face.

  ‘Sarah, God! Please no.’ He combed hair out of the way of her face and scanned her neckline. She hadn’t been cut.

  ‘Sarah, Sarah,’ Deans shouted, feeling for an arterial pulse in her neck. She was alive.

  Deans quickly inspected the rest of her body; there was no obvious blood, and then his light found her left wrist encased in a thick rusted shackle, chained to the wall.

  ‘Fuck!’

  He tugged ferociously at the clasp.

  ‘Fuck, fuck, fuck!’

  He shone the light around the edge of the cellar. There was a three step metal ladder, but nothing else he could use to break the seal.

  He fumbled with his phone and dialled Jackson’s number.

  ‘Ah, Deans where—’

  ‘Shut up and listen,’ Deans said over the top of Jackson. ‘I’m inside the house with Sarah.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘She’s still alive but she’s chained to the wall. She needs to be cut free.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Just sort it out. We’re inside the basement cellar at the back of the house.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Jesus Christ!’ Deans screamed. Get an ambulance, she’s not responding.’

  ‘But… how… how did you?’

  ‘Just get in here with some cutters.’ Deans ended the call.

  The heat in the cellar was becoming dangerously hot and increasingly difficult to breath in the choking air. Deans suddenly remembered the hosepipe from the last time he was in this pit. He scrambled across and turned on the tap until it could turn no more. A strong jet of water squirted from the short length of hose and Deans directed it at Sarah spraying her from head to toe. He saw her react to the cold water and then he turned the jet on himself and drenched his head and back. He could hear the sizzle on his skin as water vaporised into steam. He repeated the process and went back over to Sarah scraping bedraggled hair from her face. He felt for a pulse again. It was strong. Come on Jackson.

  Deans saw a thin strip of bright light illuminate the far wall. He jumped up and banged on the floor boards above his head.

  ‘In here. In here. Help. Help,’ he called out. He slipped off a shoe and banged it repeatedly on the cellar door. Light was flickering from multiple angles and all of a sudden, the trap door sucked upwards and a mask of heat dropped down onto Deans’ face. He grimaced through the pain.

  ‘Give me the cutter,’ he yelled between splutters and coughs. ‘Just give me the damn cutter.’

  A hand reached down and Deans snatched a pair of heavy-duty bolt croppers and disappeared back inside the cellar. He returned into view moments later with Sarah’s limp body dragging behind him. A pair of well-protected arms reached down and Deans offered Sarah up. He watched until she was free of the hatch and then sank to his knees.

  CHAPTER 28

  Deans pulled the oxygen mask from his face and spoke to Jackson. ‘I’m okay; I don’t need all this shit. Just take me to see Sarah.’

  Jackson stood up from his chair and moved beside Deans’ hospital bed.

  ‘You’re going nowhere. You need to clear your lungs.’

  ‘Bollocks to that.’ Deans removed the strap from t
he back of his head and tossed the hissing mask to the side. ‘I want to see Sarah. Is she talking?’

  ‘Not yet,’ Jackson simpered.

  ‘Where is she?’

  ‘Close by.’

  ‘Is she awake?’

  ‘I believe so. But I haven’t seen her yet myself.’

  Deans swung his legs off the side of the bed and looked around. There were no nurses in sight to tell him he had to stay.

  ‘Help me down,’ he said.

  Jackson took a portion of Deans’ weight and lowered him until both feet were on the ground.

  ‘They want to x-ray your leg again. They say you may have caused further damage with your heroics.’

  Deans pushed Jackson’s helping hand away. ‘It’s fine. I don’t need anything.’

  ‘You’ll need a new orthopaedic boot if nothing else. That one is unhygienic.’

  ‘That can wait until after I’ve seen Sarah.’

  The corner of Jackson’s mouth lifted. ‘That was a hell of a thing you did for her.’

  ‘How did the fire officers find us so quickly?’ Deans asked.

  ‘I put a suit on and showed them the way to the cellar.’

  Deans nodded and turned away. ‘Thanks.’ He paused. ‘I thought it was going to be touch and go for a minute.’

  ‘Sarah is lucky to be alive. You both are.’

  Deans looked Jackson square in the face. ‘Well, thankfully Sarah did survive, and now, hopefully, she can tell us who put her there.’

  Jackson snorted. ‘Wouldn’t that make life easy for us?’ he said.

  ‘Maybe…’ Deans squinted. ‘…For some.’

  Jackson walked Deans a short distance through connecting doors and into another open ward.

  Jackson approached the nursing bank. ‘Sarah Gold,’ he said flashing his ID badge.

  The nurse gave Deans a once over – he was still in his hospital gown. His suit was destroyed.

  ‘Give us a moment, please,’ the nurse said and walked off.

  Deans looked around the ward. Most of the beds were occupied and nearly everyone was connected to a bleeping monitor.