by Carla Kovach
‘I had a daughter once,’ he said as Phoebe wriggled to ease the rope tied tightly around her wrist. ‘Your mother made sure I never saw her again. I also had the chance to be a father again, and your mother killed my child. She took two from me but I’ll settle for one. You, my precious, are what is owed to me. One day, you might even call me Dad.’
Her jellied legs were no use at all. She wanted to call out but the tape over her mouth made shouting impossible. All she could do was make squeaks through her nose.
‘I know where we’re going and we’ll be so happy. We have a little caravan in the countryside, just you and me. Fresh air, wildlife, no one around to ruin our lives.’
Phoebe’s eyes began to well up as a fuzzy image of her mother flashed through her mind, her kidnapper tugging on the rope. He had dragged her off the chair and slammed her into the corner of some tin filing cabinet, a bit like the one’s her mum kept her paperwork in. Her blurry gaze darted around the room and she tried again to wiggle her toes.
She remembered him dragging her from the couch and through the trees before bundling her into the car with a swift blow to the head. A flash of pain coursed through her right temple. There was something else. A man she recognised was covered in blood. Howard, her grandad.
She gazed around and the room they were now in slowly came into focus. It was a garage, an outbuilding – shivering cold. She wriggled to get free. She didn’t want him to bundle her into the shiny Jag that was in here and she didn’t want to live with him in a caravan, far away from her family. She wanted her mother so badly.
She flinched as he kneeled before her. ‘I’m going to remove the tape. If you scream, I will knock you out again. Do you hear me?’
She stared, fear turning her into a statue. Holding her breath, she nodded. She didn’t want him to hurt her, like he had her mother and grandad. She wanted to see her little brother again and her sister. She sobbed as the delicate skin on her lips ripped with the tape.
His bald head shone under the strip light. ‘I’m just going to get the bags out of the car, then we’ll leave. One sound, you know what will happen.’ He placed his finger over his lips and grinned.
He walked out of the door, locking it behind him. Tools were stacked up on a bench alongside the car. She began rubbing the rope against the back wall but it wasn’t loosening. Her heart rate increased as she sobbed – what had happened to her mother finally sank in. She kicked out, trying to dislodge the rope. It was loosening a little. She shuffled again and struggled to wedge a couple of fingers through a loop, the rest of her hand following.
As the door creaked open, she stopped fidgeting. Her hands were free but she couldn’t let him find out. He threw a couple of bags into the boot of the car. ‘Right, in you go.’
He lifted her, throwing her into the back of the car. With all the strength she had, she held her hands together but the rope had all but dropped away. He turned to face her and she ruffled her hands up her back, under her coat, grabbing the last bit of rope.
‘When your mum went blabbing to my wife, she left me, taking my daughter. I lost my little girl but now I have you.’ He turned in the driver’s seat and smiled. ‘We’re going to be really happy together. When I saw Susie after all these years in the pub, at that stupid reunion, I just knew she’d have to pay. They’d all have to pay. I wasn’t going to sit around and let them bring me down. I thought your mum was special, I thought what we had was special but now I know better. You won’t let me down, will you, sweetheart?’
Phoebe shook her head, holding back the flood of tears. She felt a little trickle of urine seep down her thigh as he leaned towards her and smiled, the rancid smell of his breath turning her stomach.
‘Your mum killed our baby too, didn’t look after herself like I told her to. She wouldn’t do as I asked. I told her people wouldn’t understand. She was all ready to come away with me then she changed her mind, making me fight her into the car. It was her fault she had to fight when she was pregnant. You won’t put up a fight, will you? I always win.’
Phoebe pushed her hands up her coat a little further as she shook her head. Her trembling foot tapped on the car door. ‘Will my mum be okay?’ She had to ask and the moment she spoke she regretted opening her mouth. His eyes widened and he began to seethe.
‘That sad excuse for a woman lost me my family, she lost our baby. Did you not listen to a word I said? I’ve told you all this and you want to know how she is? She deserves to die and I am taking what I’m owed. Don’t think I didn’t try. I wanted to make it work for her but she ran away from me, after all that she’d done. Do you know how that feels?’ He leaned in as he shouted.
Phoebe couldn’t contain her tears any more.
‘Stop crying, stop it! All your bitch of a mother did was cry. Oh she cried but she always came back for more. They all did. Dale, Stephanie. They all loved our little gang, they loved the vodka, they loved the cigarettes – they loved the office.’ He grinned as he leaned into the glove compartment and pulled out a bottle. ‘Drink.’
She inhaled the liquid as he forced the bottle into her mouth. As she swallowed, her throat burned and she coughed and spluttered.
‘Vodka, that’s what they wanted. Nice, isn’t it.’
Phoebe’s heart pounded through her head as he removed the bottle from her mouth and gripped it.
‘Just like you, your mother was easy to trap. That little maisonette on Beech Street, I lured her there. Come over, I need a bookkeeper. My name, yes, it’s Mr Smith.’ He laughed, staring as he forced the bottle into Phoebe’s mouth once again. ‘Drink, you little cow,’ he yelled as she choked and spat it over his neck.
‘Dale was easy. I got your mum to call and he came running, back to where it all began thinking he could save her. Stupid buffoon peed his pants when he saw me. I didn’t care much for him, not like your mother and Stephanie. He needed to go.’ He forced the bottle into her mouth. Her vision began to swim. She had tried some of her dad’s beer once but this hadn’t happened. She’d seen her mum and dad drunk, especially when they argued and her dad would start to shout at her mum.
Snivelling, Phoebe tried to break his icy glare. She thought of happier things, her nan, little Rory and Harrison, Aunty Clare, her mum, her poor mum. Tears and sobs filled the air as she let it all out. She would never see her mum again.
‘Have another swig.’ He’d kill her if she didn’t, she knew he would. He grabbed a long red sweet and began flexing it. ‘If you’re good, I’ll feed you. Your mum loved this.’ She closed her eyes but the wooziness wouldn’t go, her pulse beat through her temples and she felt a flush working its way across her nose and cheeks. The car door slammed and the side door to the garage slammed after it. She opened her eyes. He was gone. She released her hands from her coat, dropping the rope. It was time to go. She fought the drunkenness as she unknotted her feet. The car door opened easily. As she slipped out, she heard his footsteps outside the door. The room swayed just like when he had drugged her. She listened against the door. He spoke on the phone in a charming voice. For a brief moment, she heard someone shouting back on the other end of the call. It was a voice she recognised.
He yelled as the caller hung up. As she ran for the little window at the back of the garage, the room tilted and the door opened. She had to fight. Kicking and screaming, she bit his arm and ran, fighting the effects of the vodka as her woozy body hit the icy air, the rain almost sobering her as she felt him on her tail. As she spat out his blood, she felt bile rising up her throat. She couldn’t stop, she had no time to be sick or fall. A whoosh of air followed her as he caught up.
Seventy
Gina ran across the car park, slabs uneven, concrete lifting. Darkness was falling, along with more rain. She wiped her face and rubbed her eyes. Just like in the photo that Smith sent through to them, the church spire was in the background. Ronald Halshaw had openly been into vintage cars and had posted a photo of his old S-Type Jaguar on this very spot. She glanced at the photo a
nd up at the church spire. Jacob and Wyre followed closely. ‘Keep quiet. I don’t want Phoebe hurt.’ Another team had headed to Beech Street for a coordinated attack.
Gina swallowed. After seeing the state he’d left Susan in, she hoped she wasn’t doing all this for a body. ‘It’s not all that secure.’ She glanced around, wondering which way to turn. Rows upon rows of storage units the size of garages lined up and went off in several directions. It was like a small estate.
‘The owner said the CCTV hasn’t been working for ages.’ Wyre crept forward.
Her silent phone vibrated. ‘Harte.’
‘We’re at Beech Street and we’ve found Ronald Halshaw’s maisonette. No one lives here. It’s empty but there is sign of a struggle in the hallway and a couple of Susan Wheeler’s business cards on the floor. Let me know how things go at the lock-up,’ Jacob said.
‘Will do.’ As she ended the call, she crept down another row and listened, holding an arm out. ‘I can hear an engine running. This way. Block the road off.’ A police car pulled forward. She signalled and several officers followed until they honed in on the right lock-up, noise rumbling behind the chipped grey garage. She glanced at the side door as a shadow darted past the glass pane. Beckoning Wyre over, she placed her ear against the frame to listen. ‘Police, open up.’ No answer. She stepped back and banged on the garage door. ‘Get me in there, now.’
The Jaguar crashed through the garage door and Gina dived onto the ground as the car swerved and veered onto the path, her body hitting the concrete with a sickening thud.
O’Connor ran ahead, just about turning off in time before being mown down. The police car at the end of the road blocked off the route with a crash, the windscreen had caved in. Ronald Halshaw grinned and revved the engine before finally ploughing it into the police car again until it shifted. As his car crashed through, it careered directly into the closed metal gates and a clump of mature trees.
‘Phoebe!’ Gina called as she ran as fast as she could. The front of the car had completely caved in and a thick branch poked through Ronald Halshaw’s arm. Gina peered through the bloodstained window, searching for the child. ‘Where is she? Where is she?’ She banged on the window as he gargled blood. ‘The boot, get the boot open.’ A uniformed officer nudged her aside and wrenched the boot open. Nothing, it was empty. ‘Phoebe? Phoebe?’ Gina shouted into the sky, rain trickling over her face.
She ran back to the front of the car. ‘Ronald Halshaw, I’m arresting you on suspicion of the murder of Dale Blair on Thursday the fourteenth of November 2019, and the kidnapping of Susan and Phoebe Wheeler. You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence,’ she yelled through the pouring rain. O’Connor tried to apply pressure to the bleeding but the angle was too awkward. The driver’s door was half-jammed and he was trying to reach in through the smashed windscreen. Looking at Halshaw’s injuries, she knew she wouldn’t be interviewing him any time soon, if ever.
‘Ambulance is just around the corner,’ a PC called out.
Gina sprinted back towards the garage, almost tripping over the broken up tarmac. ‘Phoebe.’
She ran into the cold concrete structure but Phoebe was nowhere to be seen. How was she going to tell Mary that they’d lost her granddaughter?
Gina walked away and stood in silence as she stared up towards the church spire. Too late, that’s what they were.
‘Guv, it looks like Ronald Halshaw has been living here. In the cupboard at the back, there’s a case of clothes, along with a kettle and a folded up camping bed.’ Wyre scratched her face.
‘That makes sense.’ Tears filled Gina’s eyes as she thought about Phoebe. ‘He only took out a tenancy at Beech Street to lure Susan in. He had no intention of ever staying there.’
‘Guv, you okay?’
She shook her head, roared and kicked the wall. ‘No.’ She took a few slow breaths and regained her composure. ‘Where the hell is Phoebe? Phoebe?’ she called, all hope diminishing.
‘He’s gone,’ called a paramedic. ‘We tried to pack the wound but we think the smaller branch went straight through his heart.’
Gina peered through the window. ‘That’s okay. He didn’t have a heart.’ She felt no sympathy for the man whatsoever.
She turned back to the wall and punched it until her knuckles cracked. She stumbled back, mouth open as they began to bleed.
‘What have you done?’ O’Connor called out.
‘That bastard will never pay for what he’s done.’ She went to punch the wall again but O’Connor stopped her. ‘You know you can be annoying sometimes.’
‘So you tell me.’
‘I don’t mean it.’ She wiped her knuckles on her torn trousers. ‘Call the station. Get someone to update Stephanie and tell her that I’ll be speaking to her soon. She might finally be able to sleep well in her own home.’ Gina caught movement by the entrance to the gates and began to run, just a shadow amongst the trees followed by a rustle.
Pushing the branches apart, she spotted the shivering girl hiding behind a large tree clasping her hands over her ears. Gina stepped in front of her, waving her hands slowly. ‘Phoebe?’
The shivering girl stopped sucking the strand of hair in her mouth and burst into tears. Gina caught the scent of vodka on her breath.
‘It’s okay, you’re safe now.’ Gina held out a hand and the girl took it.
‘I want my mum,’ she slurred.
Another tear slipped down Gina’s cheeks. She had no idea if anyone would see Susan alive again. The child gripped her hand and buried her thin trembling body against Gina’s stab vest. ‘Come on. Let’s get you out of here.’
Seventy-One
Gina nudged Lyndsey Saunders out of the way.
‘Are you upset, Inspector?’ A photographer came up behind her and the flash lit up the dark sky as he clicked.
Gina realised that she probably had what was left of her eye make-up running down her cheeks. She knew her eyes were red and puffy. ‘Out of my way.’
‘Charming.’ She scrunched up her nose as she beamed a smile.
‘And get out of here. If you want a tip-off DCI Briggs is about to release a press statement back at the station conference room. If you don’t hurry, you’re going to miss the boat.’
Lyndsey grabbed her bag off the damp pavement. ‘Come on, Drew, let’s get over there. You best not be making this up because I haven’t heard anything. If you are, that photo will be on the front page in the morning, with a story about how the police are failing to catch Dale Blair’s murderer.’ She paused and watched for an expression. ‘You’ve found the murderer, haven’t you? Is it Susan Wheeler’s kidnapper? Who is it, Inspector Harte? Have you found Phoebe?’
‘Just go to the conference, Lyndsey. Stop being an arse.’ Against her better judgement, Gina stuck her middle finger up at the reporter.
‘Did you get that, Drew?’
‘Sorry, it happened too fast.’
‘You buffoon,’ she said as she slapped his back and hurried towards the car.
The other reporters watched them get into their van. ‘You lot can go too. Conference at the station. The DCI is about to issue a statement.’
‘Nice one, guv,’ Wyre said as the front door opened.
Mary stood in the doorway in the same clothes she’d been wearing earlier, only this time they looked ruffled and worn. ‘Thank you for getting rid of them, well some of them.’
Gina glanced back. A couple of lone reporters were still hanging around. For a moment, Mary gazed into Gina’s eyes.
‘What’s happened?’
Mary knew there was news, it was written all over Gina’s face. She could feel the taut trail of tears where the dampness had dried. She felt her greasy make-up smeared across her cheeks. ‘We’ve found them.’ Clare stood in front of the kitchen door, holding her sleeping son in her arms.
Mary clo
sed the door behind them as she waited for more. ‘Susan and Phoebe have been taken to Cleevesford A&E. Phoebe is fine, just a little bruised and shocked. Susan has come round but she’s suffered much worse injuries.’
The woman almost collapsed. Clare hurried into the lounge and placed a sleeping Harrison on the settee as Gina and Wyre took an arm each, leading Mary into the kitchen. ‘Susan and Phoebe, they’re alive, thank you, thank you so much.’
‘I can take you there. She’ll want to see you as soon as possible. I can confirm that she was being held by Ronald Halshaw at the old Cleevesford Youth Club, the derelict building at the bottom of the roman road. That’s where we found Susan. He’d then taken Phoebe to a lock-up by the church. That little girl gave him what for, she’s a tough one. In her words, she kicked and bit him like mad before running away.’
Clare entered and placed an arm around her mother. Mary held her hand to her mouth and smiled. ‘Did you find Howard?’
Gina nodded and swallowed. ‘We found him at the Youth Club. He’s dead.’
‘How could he have done this to me? All this time, I trusted him, brought him into my home; left him alone with my grandchildren and that man, that child abuser, Ron. How could I not have known?’
‘How could any of us have known? Unfortunately people like that look like the rest of us. Mary. Please don’t ever blame yourself.’
‘She’s right, Mum.’ Clare pulled her mother closer. Gina felt her heart breaking as she watched Mary stroking her daughter’s hand.
‘Clare, I have to ask, why were you avoiding speaking with me about your sister’s disappearance whenever I came over?’ Gina realised how sharp she had just sounded. ‘I’m sorry, I know this is hard.’
‘I err, I…’
‘Tell her, Clare.’ Mary pulled a tissue from up her sleeve and blew her nose.
‘I knew you’d ask me things about our relationship, about our family, about Ryan and the children.’ She turned to the patio doors and gazed into the darkness at the back of the garden. ‘In my mind, I thought Susan had run away because Ryan may have let something slip out about Harrison during one of their rows.’
