by Linda Coles
“Never mind that now. Forensics found a till receipt between the two front seats of that van, from the Asda at Swanley. Looks like the occupants of the van went shopping on Christmas Eve, according to the date stamp.”
“I’m listening. What’s relevant?”
“Well, not the box of chocolates they bought, but more the fact we know what time they were in the store.”
Jack didn’t need Eddie to spell the rest out. “So, we can check their CCTV cameras and see who made the purchase. Nice one, Eddie.”
“We’re already on it, and I’ve got a blow-up here in my hands. I’ve already run it and come up with the name of—”
Jack broke in. “Let me guess. Robert Styles or Bernard Evans.”
“How the …?”
“Because the two vehicles that were left abandoned and burned out at the house in Kent belonged to those two cretins.”
“Shit almighty.”
“They might have removed the registration plates, but you can’t remove the chassis number quite so easily. Looks like we have ourselves a couple of pillocks, and we can place at least one of them in that van now. And we know we are looking at culprits, not customers, which means we need to move fast.
“Swig your beer back, Eddie. I’ll meet you back at the station.”
Chapter Sixty-Nine
Eddie stank of booze. Jack leaned over him as they stared at the computer screen on Eddie’s desk, which, as usual, was a shambles, littered with Post-it Notes, dog-eared files, coffee cups with deep caramel stain rings and copious amounts of biscuit crumbs. It looked as organised as a jumble sale. He really was a slob, and not for the first time Jack marvelled at how he managed to pull so many women. He must have a secret weapon. He shook the notion off as quickly as it had come and tried to concentrate on what Eddie was saying.
“So you’re also figuring that, since the van was at Waterloo, they’ve buggered off, then?”
“I’m saying it’s an option, that’s all. Think about it. Your venture gets turned upside down and burned out, so you ditch the girls and flee as far away as you can manage in the time you’ve got. Once you’re out of the UK, the continent is your oyster. That’s what I’d do.”
“It does make sense. I asked Mo to put a trace on their passports, though – before we knew how they were connected, mind – because their cars were at the house. Now we know for sure, we can bring them both in. If we can find them.”
“Do we have addresses? I mean, in case they have simply gone home – not that I’d expect them to still be there.”
“They are stupid enough, from what I know of them so far. But I doubt it too. And yes, Robert ‘Rob’ Styles is local, actually. Croydon thinks Bernard Evans is the other side of London, in Watford.”
“Then let’s get a car round to Styles’ place and see if he’s in. I’ll contact Watford to drive round to Evans’ in an unmarked for now. We’ve no proof Evans was in the van yet, remember – only his car at the burned property. And a lowly receipt doesn’t prove Styles was in it either, but it’s more likely. There’s nothing else to connect them – yet.”
“There’ll be private cameras near the store, and maybe near the car park and on other businesses. I’ll get Mo and Clarke on to it first thing. At least we have a timeframe to work with now, so that’ll cut some needless footage and wasted time out.”
“Right. Yes. Okay, let’s see if either of them are in. I don’t want to spook them if they are daft enough to be sitting at home watching the telly. Not until we have a bit more. The CPS won’t go for a receipt on its own.”
“I’ll do a drive-by of Styles’ place. He’ll not suspect my Taurus. Then we’ll see what tomorrow brings before we pounce. Now we’ve got Styles’ and Evans’ names, I’ll take their photos round to Leanne’s and see if either was the man she remembers in her room. If it is, that’ll do the CPS; they like an eyewitness. Then we’ll swoop.”
Jack checked his watch. It was gone 8.30 pm, a little late for house calls to Leanne, but this was important.
“I’ll pop round now and let you know. Let’s keep the panda car away from Evans’ and Styles’ places for tonight until we know they’re involved for sure.”
Jack was already heading out to his car, leaving Eddie alone in the squad room. Jack knew he’d be back inside the pub within the hour. Well, stuff him, he thought bitterly, and stuff Morton too. His direct superiors were a joke. As he slipped in behind the wheel, he resolved once again to do something about it when he had more time.
Oh, the irony of it.
He revved his engine and let his clutch out a bit too quickly, sending the car speeding towards the car park entrance somewhat faster than he usually did, but that was adrenalin building. And annoyance at his work situation. The case had fallen back on his shoulders again, and his evening was a write-off once more.
Ten minutes later, he was on Cedar Road and pulling up outside the Meadows’ house. Glancing up, he noticed the front bedroom light was on, which meant either Mr or Mrs was in there.
“I’m coming in whether you’re reading in bed or not,” he said to himself as he opened his door to get out. An icy chill nipped at his nose as he slammed the car door shut, and the curtain in the lounge window twitched. A moment later, Dave Meadows opened the front door. He looked none too pleased to see Jack.
“This’ll only take a moment, Mr Meadows, if I may.”
“You’d better come on in, then,” Dave Meadows said resignedly, which Jack thought was a little odd. Surely, he’d want to see Leanne’s captors caught? So why not add a bit of enthusiasm, then? He followed him inside and they stood in the hall. An invite through to the lounge was clearly not on offer.
“I have a couple of photos here I’d like to show Leanne. We think they could be linked to the house, and one of the men could be the one Leanne spoke to in her room that day. Her confirmation will help get the man, or men, charged – if it’s him, of course. May I go up?”
“She’s sleeping, Detective, and I’d rather not disturb her.” The man seemed a little nervous, not the concerned father he had been of recent. Was Jack imagining the man’s lack of co-operation? It didn’t add up.
“I realise that, Mr Meadows, and I wouldn’t ask if this wasn’t of the utmost importance.” Jack smiled hopefully and watched Dave Meadows’ jaw move silently, tossing the ever-present gum in his mouth, no doubt, like a rapper. Their eyes met and Jack held his gaze. Reluctantly, Dave Meadows stood aside. Jack hadn’t left him much choice.
“Let me go first and wake her. Wait here.”
And so he did, though Jack already knew she was awake. He could hear her TV clearly from the bottom of the stairs. He didn’t think whoever was in the upstairs front room would be watching “Top of the Pops.” He couldn’t see that being Penny Meadows’ thing.
But it would be Leanne’s.
The sound was suddenly turned down and Jack smiled to himself as he began to climb the stairs. There was no way he wasn’t going in there tonight. As Dave Meadows was leaving his daughter’s room, Jack was outside her door ready to nip in.
“I thought I asked ….”
But Jack was back inside the pink room already. Leanne was sitting up in bed with no obvious signs of having just been woken up – as Jack had suspected.
“Hello, Detective. Dad says you have a picture to show me?”
He could feel her dad hovering behind him and sensed something he couldn’t put his finger on.
“Yes. I have more than one, actually. I know this could be a little distressing for you, Leanne, and I am truly sorry about asking. You’re our only witness currently able to help, so once again, I’m really sorry.”
“It’s fine, really it is. Let me see.”
Jack put down the picture of the girl lying in the morgue first. She looked so peaceful, and so young. There was no need to ask the question he wanted answered.
“Oh no,” was all Leanne said. Then, “She wasn’t lucky enough to get out, I take it?”
&
nbsp; “You recognize her, then?”
“Yes. She saved my life. That’s her.” Leanne looked up at Jack with watery eyes, and he felt her pain.
“I have a couple more here, if I may.”
He laid another two pictures down on the bed for Leanne, then stepped back, leaving her to look and hopefully confirm without interruption.
What he heard wasn’t quite what he expected.
Chapter Seventy
Behind him, Dave Meadows gave an audible gasp. Leanne was looking at the photo of Bernard Evans.
“Yes, I recognize this one,” she said.
Jack turned to her father, who stood in the doorway, his face pale. He watched the man for a long moment, though Dave Meadows didn’t notice. He was far away, deep in thought about something. And Jack suspected he knew what that was. There was only one reason for Meadows to react as he had at seeing the photo of Evans.
Because he knew the man. Dave Meadows knew Bernard Evans.
The hairs on Jack’s neck stood up involuntarily as the pieces of the puzzle slotted into place inside his head. Could he be involved? Could he have had a part in the kidnapping of his own daughter? Or had he been a paying visitor to the house? Either scenario was repulsive, incomprehensible, yet it had to be one of them. He thought forward to the avalanche of mayhem that was about to engulf the innocent members of the Meadows family.
Welcome to the human race…
He turned his attention back to Leanne, who was still staring at the 10x8. Remembering recent horrific events, no doubt. He felt sorry for the girl but was glad she’d been able to identify the man in the photo. Jack hoped both she and her mother would be strong enough to cope with what he predicted was to fall upon them in the not too distant future. He made the decision to keep what he’d witnessed to himself – for now.
Dave Meadows tried to take control of the situation now.
“Leanne needs her rest, Detective. Time for you to leave,” he said firmly.
Jack took the hint and nodded at the man slightly, then gave a brief smile to Leanne as he took the photo from her. She was a brave young woman.
For now, with Leanne’s confirmation, they had an eyewitness, which meant they could pull Evans in for questioning and the CPS would be happy. It would prove to be another nail in his coffin when it came to trial – once they found him.
Back outside, Jack called Eddie on his mobile. Unsurprisingly, Eddie was back in the pub; Jack could hear the clatter of glasses and distant jukebox music.
“How’s it going, Jack?”
“A positive ID from Leanne on the girl and on Evans, but she doesn’t recognize the other one, Rob Styles. Never saw him. Doesn’t mean he wasn’t there, though.”
“No. I’ll give the boys at Watford a call now, make sure they’re still watching.”
Jack doubted he would, but kept his opinion to himself.
“Any news as to whether he’s buggered off to France then? I’ve not seen or heard anything,” said Eddie.
“Me neither, but I think now we have a positive identification, I’ll alert Interpol in Manchester and get a Red Notice set up. They have better access to things than we do, so if he’s taken the Eurostar train, they can be on the lookout as he crosses borders and whatnot. Those scum involved in child abuse rings are a good deal more important to find than a diamond thief, so hopefully they collar him quickly. Let’s hope he isn’t travelling on forged documents under another name.” Jack heard Eddie take a drag on a cigarette and pictured the blue haze around him as he spoke. He wanted to cough for him. “And what about Styles, then?” he went on. “Bring him in for questioning?”
“We have him in the van via a receipt,” Eddie replied. “Nothing else as yet. His DNA isn’t in the system.”
“You’ve had results back from forensics? Was Evans’ DNA present? He’s definitely in the system, been inside.” Jack knew Eddie wasn’t sharing, and it bugged him. But then he hadn’t shared his suspicions about Dave Meadows either.
“Yes, it was, as were several other sets, likely the girls’. And Martin Coffey – his prints were there. Thought I’d mentioned that, Jack.”
He let it go. Battles and all that. “And I’ll get those traffic cops to ID those photos, see if they were the two men in the van. That’s another set of witnesses. Anything else you haven’t told me?” Jack struggled to keep the annoyance from his voice, though if Eddie heard it, he wasn’t going to lose sleep over it. Eddie was in the pub. Jack was the one still busting his backside.
“Get some rest, Jack. Leave Interpol to me. We’ll see what the private CCTV cameras give us, then get Styles in too. I don’t want to spook either of them. Both addresses are under surveillance for now.”
That was something at least. Jack checked his watch. It was approaching 10 pm.
“See you tomorrow, then,” he said, yawning, then hung up. If Evans had fled, there was precious little he could do about it on his own.
It was time to go home. To bed.
Leaving his mobile phone on the hall table with his keys, he climbed the stairs towards the bedroom. Janine was already in bed reading. He poked his head around the door and smiled. She looked so studious in her reading glasses. The dusky pink of the room’s décor reminded him slightly of Leanne’s room, though Janine had opted for a floral motif in theirs. He’d lost the battle on bedroom décor too.
“You look tired, Jack. Are you done for the night?” she enquired, peering librarian-like over the rims of her glasses.
“Done as a kipper, Mrs Rutherford,” he said, and threw himself down on to the flowery quilt. “I’ll grab a shower, and then, if I’ve still got any energy left, there was the mention of ravishing on offer.” He smiled up at her, waggling his eyebrows comically.
She laughed out loud. “You look like Benny Hill doing that!” she exclaimed.
“Well, here’s a fun fact for you, Mrs Rutherford. It was always the women chasing him to that stupid music, never the other way around.”
“Really?”
“Yes, really. You watch next time he’s on TV. He never chases anyone.”
“Well, that’s good to know. Now go and get a shower before you fall asleep where you are.”
He wriggled off the edge of the bed and did as he was told, grinning like a love-struck teenager. He was a lucky man, indeed. Their relationship was as strong as a heavy-duty chain, and he wondered about Dave and Penny Meadows for a moment, and all that had gone on in their household recently. For a family that had gone through hell, they didn’t seem particularly close, but then people coped with trauma in many different ways. Stripping off and standing under the warm jets of water, he suspected there was more to come for them. Dave Meadows’ obvious gasp had been a dead giveaway that he knew Bernard Evans, though luckily Leanne hadn’t picked up on that. For now, at least, that spared her from even more anguish, and Jack raised his head heavenward in a silent ‘thank you.’ Whatever the mess to come, it would be up to Jack to deliver it, no doubt.
By the time he’d finished in the bathroom, he could have slept bolt upright. Exhaustion enveloped completely him he returned to the bedroom. Janine pulled the covers back and he slid into his side. Within five minutes, he was snoring gently.
The ravishing would have to wait.
Chapter Seventy-One
Where the hell time went, Jack would never know, but damn it, it went quickly. He looked across at the alarm clock by the bed – it was after 8 am and Janine was already up. He stretched his arm out to her side of the bed, where she’d lain next to him all night, but it felt cool to his touch. She must have got up a while ago. He strained to hear her moving around downstairs, but the house seemed silent. Perhaps he was all alone.
Feeling more awake and noticing he felt more refreshed than he had done in a while, he grabbed his robe from the floor where he’d left it the previous night and went downstairs in search of Janine. He was almost at the bottom of the stairs when he heard the low sound of the radio coming from the kitchen. Terry Wo
gan’s voice was a British morning staple – bacon and eggs for the soul. He pushed the door fully open and Janine looked up from her spot at the table, toast in hand.
“Morning, sunshine,” she said brightly, as she did each and every morning. “Tea?”
“Love some, thanks. Why didn’t you wake me?”
“You needed the rest, Jack, and I bet you feel better for it too.”
He had to concede; he did indeed. He watched her as she flicked the kettle on and put fresh teabags in the pot, and was reminded again what a fine-looking woman she was. Perhaps a spot of ravishing could be on the cards later if he got home at a reasonable hour and didn’t fall straight to sleep. He was vaguely aware of her speaking.
“Jack?”
“Sorry. I was miles away.”
“Obviously. I said the lab called you a bit ago. Call them when you can.”
“Did they say what they wanted?”
She placed a plate of hot toast in front of him and poured the tea. “No, never do to me. But I hope it’s some good news for you for a change.”
“I’ll call them when I’ve eaten this. Thanks. I’m half-starved.”
She watched as he pushed most of the first triangle into his mouth and smeared strawberry jam on the second piece, ready to follow the first. There were two more pieces on his plate, so she stood to put two more slices into the toaster – it looked like he was going to need them.
When he’d finally finished his breakfast, he called the lab back. The name and number she’d written down was not one he recognised. A woman answered. Her name was Janice Coop.
“It’s DC Jack Rutherford here, Croydon. You called me earlier?”
“Yes, Jack. Thanks for calling back. We met at the burned-out house over Christmas?”
Ah, so that was it. “Yes, I remember, Janice. A damn cold night, and a wet one, too. Not the best conditions for your crew, I expect. What have you got for me?”
