No Middle Ground

by Jack Slater

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  Pete switched on his phone as he left the hospital some time later. He’d expected to have to gently ease his wife through the first stages of grief, but she’d surprised him. She’d regained the strength of character that she’d had until a year ago when she was robbed of it by Tommy’s disappearance, so now the tables were turned, the roles reversed, and she had eased him through the worst moments of pain and loss, driving him on with her own determination and resolve.

  The phone beeped in his hand before he’d even returned it to his pocket. He checked the screen and saw that he’d missed two messages – one from Jane and one from Ben. Just a few feet from his car, he waited until he’d got in, started the engine and the phone had connected to the Bluetooth system before dialling the station as he drove away.

  ‘DC Bennett, Exeter CID,’

  ‘Jane, its Pete. I just got your message. Ben’s too. What’s up?’

  ‘Are you OK? How’s Louise?’

  Emotion welled up in him again. He swallowed but still his voice was thick and hollow when he spoke. ‘We’re about like you’d expect. But we both know what’s got to happen now. For Tommy, even if there wasn’t any other reason.’

  It was Jane’s turn to hesitate as she absorbed what he’d said. She was all business when she finally spoke again, for which Pete was deeply grateful. ‘We’ve got a break in the Jonas Hanson case at last, boss. Two, in fact. We heard back from forensics up north. They’ve still got their own unit in Lincolnshire, you know.’

  Until relatively recently, all forces had had their own forensics units. It was quite a new and unfamiliar phenomenon that some, like Devon and Cornwall, had closed them and employed private contractors instead.

  ‘And?’

  ‘Well, they found blood and hair in his car. From two sources, one of which they’ve identified. The other is the hair, which was found down between the seat and the backrest on the passenger side.’

  ‘And the blood?’

  ‘Comes back to a young woman who was reported missing eight months ago, boss. From Sidmouth.’

  ‘Sidmouth?’ he repeated. ‘How come we didn’t know about that?’

  The small seaside town had its own police station, like Newton Abbot and Ottery St Mary, but they had no CID so anything major would have been referred to Exeter and, initially, to Heavitree Road. Their own department.

  ‘It was never escalated, boss. She had a history of running off. Drugs. Turned out, when the locals looked into it, she also had a history of prostitution although her parents didn’t know. There’d been no convictions.’

  ‘And we know that Hanson’s preferred target demographic tends towards prostitutes,’ Pete said.

  ‘Exactly.’

  ‘A bit close to home, though.’

  ‘Hence this trip, maybe. He was getting antsy.’

  Pete grunted agreement. ‘So, what about the other evidence they found? You said it was a hair?’

  ‘Yes, in the front seat. They haven’t identified it yet, but then any mispers tend to take a while to get onto the database if they do at all. And minor felonies like prostitution often don’t have DNA taken anyway, do they?’

  Pete pursed his lips, knowing she was right. ‘And there’s only these two samples detected in the car?’

  ‘That’s what they said.’

  ‘If this recent trip was a spree, you’d expect more than that.’

  ‘They did say the car was remarkably clean, boss. Especially for a builder’s vehicle.’

  ‘So maybe he’s fastidious. Cleans up after each one. Maybe he watched CSI or Silent Witness on the telly.’

  ‘Or one of those true crime channels on Sky.’

  ‘Hmm.’ Pete never watched them. Too much like a busman’s holiday and he’d got frustrated and angry at the inefficiency and outright laziness of some of the officers involved in the few cases he’d seen on there, when Louise had tried them out, curious as to what he got up to all day, she’d said. Not that he liked CSI or Silent Witness either, as wildly detached from reality as they were. ‘Either way, it seems he’s forensically aware.’

  ‘In which case, why keep trophies?’

  ‘Because, sadly, in this day and age, he can afford to,’ Pete reminded her as he turned into the station. ‘Stuff like that doesn’t mean as much as it should with sick buggers like him selling it on e-bay and so forth. Especially the arrogant ones who think they’ve built themselves a reputation.’

  ‘And if we’re right about the number he’s killed, he would be that arrogant,’ she agreed.

  ‘I’m in the car park downstairs,’ he told her. ‘I’ll be up in a minute.’

  ‘Are you sure, boss? You don’t want to be at home with Louise and Annie?’

  ‘Annie doesn’t know yet and Lou’s still at the hospital - said she wants to keep working, let her mind process things while she’s got other stuff to concentrate on. Plus, she wants to be there when they bring Tommy in. Wants to see him before they…’ He paused, drew a shaky breath and let it out again. ‘Before they take him to Doc Chambers,’ he whispered.

  He pulled into a space and switched off the engine, killing the Blue-tooth system. He sat there for a while, gathering himself, trying to regain control before facing the team.

  Finally calmer, he stepped out of the car and went inside.

  When he stepped into the squad room, moments later, his whole team stopped what they were doing, their eyes fixed on him, but no-one said anything.

  Pete was deeply grateful for their silence. If anyone had spoken, asked him how he was, he didn’t know how he would have reacted - if he could have stopped himself from either breaking down or yelling at them.

  Instead, he took his seat, looked across at Jane and asked, ‘So, what have we got, then? Details.’

  ‘Right. The blood comes back to seventeen-year old Rebecca Newton.’

  ‘And what about the hair? Was it long or short? Brown, red, blonde? Dyed or natural? With or without a root?’

  ‘Dark brown, straight, with a root - hence the DNA although it doesn’t match any on record - and about four inches long.’

  ‘Fairly short, then, for a woman. What are we talking about? A bob, a page-boy cut, something like yours?’

  Jane shrugged. ‘Mine’s probably more like six inches. It could be a layer cut or something like that. Any number of styles, really.’

  ‘Was the end split?’

  Jane raised an eyebrow at that. ‘No, it wasn’t.’

  ‘I am married, you know,’ he reminded her. ‘So relatively recently cut, then. And potentially pulled rather than shed, as it had a root. What about products – dye, shampoo, all that stuff?’

  ‘They said it was clean, boss.’

  He nodded. ‘So probably not a street girl. Any indication of how long it had been there?’

  Jane shook her head. ‘No way to tell. The car was clean, so no dust or anything adhering to it.’

  Pete pursed his lips. ‘Looks like it could be a dead-end, then. We’ve still got the blood, though. If we can put Hanson there around the time she disappeared, that will corroborate the physical evidence and give us a good case.’

  ‘A confession would do the same,’ Dick pointed out.

  ‘Yeah, good luck with that,’ Pete said.

  Dick shrugged. ‘Phone records and receipts it is, then. Shame we can’t do anything with the hair though.’

  ‘We can’t have everything in life,’ Jane said.

  ‘We can pass the details on to the Missing Persons Bureau, though. For whenever they’re able to use them. It could help somebody’s family.’

  ‘Fair enough,’ Jane agreed, side-stepping the connection with Pete’s own situation.

  ‘Sidmouth’s a bit close to home, isn’t it?’ Dick said, mirroring Pete’s earlier comment. ‘What about not shitting on your own doorstep?’

  ‘Ew!’ Jill grimaced.

  ‘All criminals make mistakes,’ Pete pointed out. ‘It’s how we catch them,
more often than not.’

  ‘Good point, well made,’ Dick acknowledged.

  ‘When was it that girl went missing?’ Ben asked.

  ‘Eight weeks ago,’ Jane told him. ‘29th of March’

  ‘Got him.’ Ben waved a paper in the air. ‘His mobile was in Sidmouth on the 29th. Came back to Exeter that night, about 2.00 am.’

  ‘Which way?’ Pete asked.

  ‘The main road.’

  He’d hoped Hanson would have taken the back roads, giving him more chance to dump the body and them more chance to find it. Otherwise… He picked up the phone and dialled an internal number. ‘Bob, can you get me through to Sidmouth nick?’

  ‘Yeah, of course. Hold on.’

  The phone went dead, then started ringing again.

  ‘Police, how can I help?’

  ‘Hello. DS Pete Gayle from Heavitree Road. You had a case a couple of months ago. A missing girl. Possible runaway, known prostitute.’

  ‘That’s right. Rebecca something… Newton, was it?’

  ‘Yes.’ At least the guy remembered her.

  ‘What about her?’

  ‘We’ve got a match for her. A blood sample found in the back of a murder suspect’s car.’

  ‘You reckon she’s dead, then?’

  ‘It seems likely. Just a matter of finding the body. It’ll be round your way somewhere, or between here and there. We know which way he came back that night.’

  ‘We’ll get a search under way, then. Thanks, mate.’

  ‘We’ll see what we can do from here, too. Meet in the middle somewhere if we don’t find her first, eh?’

  ‘If we do, I’ll buy you a pint.’

  ‘If we do, I’ll need one.’ Pete hung up and headed for Colin Underhill’s office. There was no need to knock. Colin saw him approach and waved him in and to a seat.

  ‘I’m really sorry about Tommy,’ he said. ‘But you know that already. What do you need?’

  ‘Thanks. What we need is a search party. A big one. Probable remains between here and Sidmouth. They’re getting organised from that end but we’re going to need plenty of boots on the ground and cadaver dogs. I know what I’d have done with the victim if I were him: dumped her in the Otter or the Clyst or in the woods at Hawkerland, in a part people don’t go into much. If it was one of the rivers, it’s unlikely she’ll still be there after eight or nine weeks, but you never know. She might have got caught up somewhere.’

  Colin nodded. ‘Give me the details, I’ll pass it on to uniform. Then get yourself off home.’

  Pete checked his watch. It was almost 2.30 pm. ‘I’ll give it another half-hour then go and pick Annie up. I’d rather be working in the meantime. Had enough time off last year and it got me nowhere. I’ll see what Lou and Annie are like in the morning but if they don’t need me at home, I’d sooner be here. There’s too much to do not to be until Hanson’s put away and Steve Southam’s caught.’

  ‘Which is not your problem.’

  Pete drew himself up but managed to remain silent despite the anger and indignance that blazed in his mind. Deep down, he knew Colin was right. Being reminded of it, though, didn’t help.

  Colin looked at him. ‘You know the rules and you know the boss man’s got it in for you already. Don’t give him an excuse, that’s all I’m saying.’

  Pete maintained his silence for a few seconds longer. ‘You know we’ve got a time limit on this,’ he said at last. ‘We can’t let him out of here.’

  Colin nodded. ‘Noon tomorrow. You’d best nail him then, hadn’t you?’

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  Pete was waiting outside Annie’s school when the kids came out at 3.00. She was about to rush past him with her friends when she spotted his car and stopped in her tracks. Swallowing heavily, he waved. She said something to her friends before stepping towards him.

  ‘Dad? What are you doing here?’

  ‘Can’t I pick my daughter up from school now and then, when I get the chance?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes, but…’ She shook her head. ‘How come you’re not at work?’

  ‘Uncle Colin told me to clear off.’

  ‘You haven’t… No. Why would he do that? I thought you had a big case on, apart from finding Tommy.’

  ‘I have. And finding Tommy’s something I can’t officially get involved in, as you well know. Come on, get in.’

  ‘I don’t understand,’ she said when she was sitting beside him, pulling on her seat-belt. ‘Why would Uncle Colin send you home? What’s happened?’

  Colin wasn’t an uncle, of course, but he was Tommy’s God-father as well as Pete’s superior officer, mentor and friend.

  Was this really the time or place to tell her? Hell, he didn’t want to have to tell her at all. He didn’t want it to be true, but he knew it was and he knew that, the sooner it was out there, the sooner she’d be able to process it, rather than stringing it out, making her suspicious and nervous before springing it on her, which would only make it worse. He drew a breath.

  ‘Annie, there’s something I’ve got to tell you. Your mum knows already and…’ Never mind the long way around, he thought. Get on with it, man. ‘It’s Tommy. I’m afraid we didn’t get him back in time, love.’

  Her eyes widened with horror and dread as the truth began to penetrate her consciousness. ‘No.’

  ‘He’s not coming back.’

  ‘No,’ she repeated, louder this time.

  He reached for her hand. ‘The man who had him was determined that Tommy wouldn’t ever testify against him.’

  Tears began to run down her cheeks. ‘Dad.’

  He leaned across, taking her in his arms. ‘I’m sorry, love. Tommy’s dead.’

  ‘No,’ she wailed. ‘No, he can’t be. Please!’

  Pete rocked her as best he could in the awkward position enforced by the gear-stick and equipment console. He stroked her hair as she howled her grief to the world, not caring who saw or heard. There was no point in saying anything, she wouldn’t have heard him anyway. Then, taking him completely by surprise, she wriggled free and snatched at the door handle. The next thing he knew, she was out and running.

  ‘Annie,’ he shouted, every instinct driving him out of the car and after her. She was fast and she’d got a good lead on him by the time he’d got his seat-belt off and jumped out and around the open door, slamming it as he set off in pursuit.

  ‘Annie, stop!’

  A gaggle of kids filled the pathway, oblivious to all around them as they milled around, laughing and shouting. Pete dodged through and around them, eyes focussed on Annie, but it cost him more precious seconds. He hadn’t made it out of the seething crowd when she darted right, straight out across the road without looking. A car coming around the bend towards them stopped abruptly, tyres screeching on the tarmac, horn blaring, but she took no notice, running on blindly.

  ‘No!’

  Pete saw the driver gesturing, then setting off again as he finally freed himself from the crowd but, by then, Annie had turned the corner a hundred yards away.

  With a quick glance behind, he darted across the road before the oncoming car got too close. As he did so a dark brown four-by-four screeched out of a roadside parking space between him and the bend, engine roaring as it headed rapidly away from him, a logo-printed black cover over the spare wheel on its back door.

  Pete didn’t need to see the driver to know who it was even before it went around the bend and out of sight.

  ‘No!’ This time it was a primal roar from deep within him as he surged forward like an Olympic sprinter out of the blocks,

  He heard the big tyres screech again. A scream. A deeper-toned shout.

  ‘Annie!’

  He was fifty yards from the bend when the second scream sounded. Then a car door slammed. Still he couldn’t see what was happening but his mind conjured images that horrified him to the core.

  A shout echoed off the surrounding houses. Feet slapped on pavement. Another shout was followed by a high-pitc
hed yelp.

  Pete reached the corner. He leapt at a big horse-chestnut tree, bouncing one foot off the rough bark to help him make the turn even before he looked across at what was happening. He surged ahead once more with barely a break in his stride. Saw the four-by-four stopped at an angle, nose into the pavement. The doors were closed and Annie was struggling in the arms of a tall, heavy-set man in a dark jacket and black beany hat.

  He was facing away from Pete, but he knew instantly who he was.

  ‘Southam!’

  ‘Dad!’

  The big man roared as her teeth sank into his hand.

  ‘Annie, drop,’ he shouted. Then he was on them.

  Annie jerked her feet up and forward as Southam turned his head to glance back at Pete, but he was too late. As Annie’s backside hit the pavement, Pete careened into him. Annie managed somehow to tangle his legs and he went down hard but instantly rolled to the right.

  Pete’s momentum carried him over them both. Given the chance, he would have stomped the big man on his way past, but his quick roll sideways saved him as Pete’s foot hit the pavement instead. Pete stopped, turning back fast. Annie was rolling away. Southam tried to stop her with a foot but managed only to slam his heel on the pavement. Then he bucked up and over in a backward roll, feet rising to meet Pete with an agility that belied his size. Pete was already dropping towards him, knees aimed at his collar bone while his fist was aiming at his lower belly. Or where it had been. Instead, one of Southam’s feet hit Pete in the chest, near his arm-pit, the other narrowly missing him. The impact threw him off, his body twisting awkwardly, a spasm of pain lancing up his back as his knee hit the ground hard, the other one impacting the back of Southam’s thigh as the big man pushed up with one arm, twisting his body so that, as he completed the roll, he came down on top of Pete, crushing him onto the unforgiving pavement.

  He heard Annie screech.

  ‘Run!’ he told her, his body pressed awkwardly beneath the incredible weight of the other man. He tried to use his back muscles to throw Southam off but he was too heavy. Then a ham-like fist crashed into Pete’s neck, at the base of his skull. An inch to the left and it would have broken his neck but instead it hit him on the muscle that went down one side of his spine, supporting his head. Agony blazed through his whole shoulder and he yelped as he was driven flat down on the pavement. Southam’s massive bulk lifted off him. Pete tried to move but he used the wrong arm and fresh pain made him gasp as his entire body froze. Then a heavy boot slammed into the side of his skull and everything went black.