Nowhere to Run

by Jack Slater

  ‘If he comes straight home,’ said Jane.

  ‘He will. He’ll want to check on the van. He tried not to show it, but I think we put the wind up him.’ He reached for the latch and opened the gate.

  ‘Well, wouldn’t that be a shame?’ she said dryly.

  Pete grunted. ‘Depending on how he reacts. I just hope we didn’t scare him into doing something drastic before we can track down the girl.’

  ‘Maybe he’ll check on the van and then lead us to her, if we let him.’

  ‘Best get a move on then.’ He closed and latched the gate, pulled his torch from his pocket and headed up the side of the garage. Pulling the side door open, he nodded for Jane to precede him inside.

  She headed for the back of the van while Pete checked the cab, peering through a side window.

  ‘Nothing inside except a toolbox behind the driver’s seat,’ she called.

  ‘Right. Gloves on and in we go.’

  He set the torch on the workbench and followed his own instruction, opening the passenger door carefully to avoid disturbing any latent fingerprints. He looked under the seat, in the door pocket, then opened the glovebox. Nothing. He backed out, shut the door and went around to the other side while Jane crawled into the rear compartment and unlatched the toolbox. She was rummaging through its contents when he opened the driver’s door and began a swift search of that side of the cab.

  ‘Anything?’ he asked.

  ‘Just tools, apart from these. You?’ She held up a packet of foot-long white zip-ties.

  ‘Nothing. It’s clean.’

  She replaced everything as she’d found it. ‘Best drag Harry Pointer out again, then, had we?’

  Pete had hoped to be in and gone by the time Burton got home. Bringing in forensics would take hours and, in the process, might scare the guy off. But there was no choice. It had to be done. He closed the van door and stepped outside to make the call.

  *

  The door of the squad room opened and the DI from Bath stepped in. Pete stood up as the man approached, hand outstretched. ‘Thanks for that.’

  Trueman’s grip was firm and sure. Small and broad, he was in his early fifties with short grey hair that was thinning on top and an honest, open face.

  ‘No problem,’ Pete said. ‘Did you get anything useful out of him?’

  ‘Possibly. He recalled where Southam stayed in Bath and an associate of his that we can follow up on.’

  ‘Not a completely wasted trip then.’

  ‘No.’

  Pete’s phone rang and he reached for it, hoping it was Harry Pointer, to tell him they were finished. It was about bloody time. He glanced at his watch. The forensics team had been at Burton’s place for over an hour.

  ‘DS Gayle, Exeter CID.’

  ‘Hello. This is Danielle at Berry’s, land agents. We spoke earlier about High Acres Farm?’

  ‘Ah. Yes.’ He felt the slump of disappointment. ‘What can I do for you?’

  ‘There was something about the farm at the back of my mind when we spoke earlier, that I couldn’t quite put a finger on. I just found out what it was and thought I’d better tell you. I don’t know if it’ll be useful or not, but . . .’

  ‘What was it you found, Danielle?’

  ‘Mr and Mrs Knox don’t rent the whole farm. There is a piece of land that had already been let to the local wildlife trust when they took it on. It’s a meadow and some woodland with a barn, off the road up to the village.’

  ‘I see.’

  A barn. Isolated location. Perfect for holding a young girl whose welfare you weren’t particularly concerned about.

  ‘Thanks, Danielle. Do you happen to have the file on this meadow there with you?’

  ‘It’s here in front of me.’

  ‘Is there a plan in it?’

  ‘Yes. A copy of the OS field plan.’

  ‘Perfect. Any chance you could send that over to me by fax or email?’

  ‘Uh . . . I don’t know. It’s A3 size, so . . .’

  ‘Could you maybe take a picture of it with your phone and send that?’

  ‘Yes. Of course.’ She brightened. ‘What number should I send it to?’

  Pete gave her the number of his smartphone.

  ‘Right. I’ll do it now.’

  He thanked her again and ended the call.

  ‘I’ll let you get on, then,’ said Trueman. ‘Go see what I can drag up on what Sanderson’s given us. Thanks again for the lead.’

  ‘Good to have met you,’ Pete said as his mobile pinged with an incoming message.

  The man from Bath headed out and Pete picked up his mobile to check the message.

  ‘What you got, boss?’ Jane asked

  Pete looked across, the corners of his mouth twitching towards a smile as something in his chest fluttered with excitement. ‘A possible location.’

  ‘For?’

  ‘Rosie Whitlock. Our man’s got a barn out at Holcomb Burnell that didn’t get let out with the rest of the farm.’ Jesus! If she was there, how close had he been to her, earlier in the day?

  ‘Brilliant.’ Jane pushed her chair back. ‘So, are we going, or what?’ As she grabbed her bag with one hand she punched the air with the other. ‘Yes! The Gayle force is back on track.’

  Pete grinned. ‘Steady on. We haven’t found her yet.’

  ‘No, but we’re going to. I can feel it in my water.’ Jane grabbed her coat off the hook. ‘And, at the back of my mind, I’d thought she was probably already dead.’

  Pete glanced across at Dave. ‘Give FTP a heads-up, will you? And get the chopper up and a full search team out there pronto. If he’s not home yet, he’s gone somewhere and this sounds like a good possibility.’

  ‘Right, boss.’

  *

  ‘Here.’

  Pete tossed his phone to Jane and started the car. ‘Latest message. There’s a map that’ll take us to the barn. Figure it out, will you, while I drive?’

  ‘OK.’

  He hit the lights and sirens at the same time as the accelerator, shot down the drive beside the station and out into the rush-hour traffic. Heavitree Road was queued up, as usual. He drove as quickly as safety would allow down the outside of the queue, turned left across the front of the car waiting to get onto the roundabout and headed for the bridge over the river. Traffic here was much less dense and he put his foot down hard, keeping the lights and sirens on until they reached the edge of the city. Then, with little or no traffic on the road, the noise and flashing blue lights felt over the top, so he switched them off.

  As they crested the top of the hill he glanced at Jane. ‘So?’

  She looked up from the phone. ‘I’ve got it. Looks like there’s woodland along the roadside before the village. There’s a lane or track or something going through it. The barn’s in a field out the back. Looks like the lane becomes a bridleway beyond the barn, which carries on through more woodland at the other side of the field.’

  ‘OK. I know the woodland you mean. Didn’t notice the lane.’

  ‘It might be just a dirt track,’ she said. ‘You wouldn’t necessarily notice it without some reason to.’

  He turned off the main road, onto the narrow lanes that wove through the countryside towards the little village of Holcomb Burnell. Up ahead, he caught a glimpse of red tail lights, so flicked the blues and twos back on.

  It was best to give the other driver plenty of warning that he was coming. The trouble was, he didn’t want to give Malcolm Burton any more warning than he could help, so he would have to turn them off again ASAP. He rounded a left-hand bend, then an even sharper one to the right and there was the car, just ahead. Pete saw the brake lights glow briefly as the driver acknowledged his presence. He powered past the car, let the sirens give a final whoop, then turned them off.

  Now, where was that junction?

  He recalled the narrow lanes, grass and cow parsley growing high and close at either side, the little Hansel-and-Gretel cottage on the corner, right
by the junction. Then it was there, in front of him. He slowed, made the turn. Now they had to find the entrance to the lane or bridleway or whatever it was. ‘How far along is it?’ he asked.

  ‘Don’t know. The junction’s not on here.’

  ‘Damn. OK, how far through to the barn, once we turn off?’

  Jane checked the scale of the map. ‘Um . . . looks like about four, maybe five hundred yards.’

  Pete sucked air through his teeth and kept his foot light on the throttle. He couldn’t afford to overshoot. If the guy heard him reversing, he’d know something was up. ‘Get hold of Dave, will you? Find out how far out that chopper is, and the ground backup.’

  ‘Right.’ She put down his phone and took out her own to make the call. ‘It’s Jane. Where’s that chopper? OK. And the search team?’ Another pause. ‘What! You’re joking. Well, taking the piss then. Get them bloody moving, for Christ’s sake. We’re nearly there.’

  ‘There it is,’ Pete said, spotting the dark entrance to the woods on the right, up ahead. ‘What’s up.’

  ‘All right, bye.’ Jane ended the call. ‘The chopper’s ten minutes out. The backup crew are leaving HQ in fifteen.’

  Pete stopped the car abruptly. ‘What bloody use do they expect that to be?’ He drew a long, slow breath. ‘Alright. We’ll see what we find and take it from there.’

  He put the car back into gear and eased it forward, turning into the end of a dirt track with grass up the middle that led into the inky darkness of the woods. He switched from headlights to sidelights and the night closed in even more oppressively. But, again, he didn’t want to give Burton any more warning of his approach than he absolutely had to. Putting Rosie’s life at risk, right at the last minute, by being careless was certainly not in his playbook. He let the car crawl forward, foot barely touching the throttle. This was one time when he could have used one of those hybrid cars that made no noise at all in electric mode. But, there was no telling what they would find at the far end of this lane so he wasn’t going to take the chance of not taking the car in.

  Tall shuttlecock ferns glowed ghostlike at the sides of the track, long grass brushing the sides of the car as they crept along. The track curved gradually right then left. A huge old oak tree stood to one side, its deeply ridged bark and gnarled appearance like something out of a fantasy film that Pete vaguely remembered watching with Annie. Harry Potter or Lord of the Rings. He wasn’t sure which. Then he saw a dim vertical line of light some distance beyond it.

  ‘There, look.’

  ‘I see it.’

  He stopped the car in the middle of the track at the edge of the woods, switched off the lights and the engine. ‘Torch is in the glovebox.’

  They stepped out, eased the doors softly closed and headed towards the barn. Pete saw its shape vaguely against the sky, black and hulking. Then he sensed a low wall to his left, tall weeds along its near side and the faint shine of barbed wire along the top. They came to a gap in the wall and Pete stepped through towards the big doors, which stood barely ajar, the faint glow of light showing between them. He felt rough cobbles beneath his feet, combining with the wall to form some kind of holding yard.

  All was quiet and still. Too still, he thought. Like the world was waiting for him to reach those doors.

  He glanced back at Jane. ‘Careful with the light,’ he murmured.

  She shone it forward briefly over the dirt-coated and weed-choked cobbles then switched it off. ‘OK?’

  ‘Yep.’

  With the picture of the ground in front of him fresh in his mind, he stepped forward, right hand raised, holding the still-collapsed baton like a primitive weapon. And not even a bloody stab-vest for protection, he thought. But there had been no time for anything like that. He would find what he would find and react accordingly.

  He stepped up close to the doors and crouched to peer through. Could make out no movement at all. There were two torches resting on stacked hay bales, both aimed at a point to his right. He stepped carefully across and squinted through the gap, trying to get a view of what – or who – was over there.

  Nothing.

  Then someone moaned.

  The voice was female. Young.

  Rosie.

  In one swift move he tugged the door wider with one hand, snapped the baton out to its full length with the other and stepped inside. A sweeping glance took in the shadowy interior – or as much of it as he could see in the low light – then he focused on the source of the moan. Bales had been stacked in a U-shape. As he came closer, he saw her lying within the enclosed space. Long, curly blonde hair. Dark green school uniform, the cardigan discarded. She was lying on her face in the loose hay. She moaned again and struggled to her elbows and knees.

  ‘Rosie?’

  She gasped.

  Her head snapped around to stare towards him through a tangle of hair.

  ‘It’s OK. I’m a police officer.’ He glanced away. ‘Jane, get in here. Now.’ As he looked back at the girl, who now swept her hair back with one hand so that she could see him, despite one eye being swollen almost shut. Blood was leaking from her nose and a cut on her lip, he saw, then heard the roar of an engine from the far side of the barn.

  ‘Shit.’

  ‘Bastard’s getting away,’ Jane snarled from the doorway behind him.

  Pete looked over his shoulder. The engine was heading away, further from the road instead of towards it. ‘We won’t catch him now. But, we’ve got Rosie.’

  CHAPTER 33

  As Jane helped Rosie up and seated her on the bales, she cast her gaze frantically around the shadowy interior. ‘Where’s TJ? Is he all right?’

  Pete was heading for the door, intent on making a call to Dave, to tell him that Burton, if it was him, was on the move. He stopped and turned. ‘TJ?’

  ‘The boy who was here. You have to find him. He was . . . The man knocked him out. They were fighting. He was trying to . . .’ She dropped her head into her hands and sobbed. ‘We promised. Whichever of us got out, we had to run, regardless. At least one of us would have a chance to escape. But then the man hit him and . . .’ She looked up, her eyes pleading for him to understand. ‘Is he OK?’

  ‘There’s no one else here, Rosie.’ Pete could see the vibrations running through her body as her left leg began to bob up and down. ‘Just us.’

  ‘You have to find him. Please.’

  ‘We will. What can you tell me about him?’

  ‘He’s my age, but he doesn’t go to my school. Local comprehensive, I think. I know him from swimming, but just by his nickname. He’s a bit smaller than me, brown hair and eyes.’ She shook her head, at a loss as to what to add.

  Jane put an arm around her. ‘It’s all right, darling. It’s all right now. Ssh.’

  She looked up at Pete, saying nothing though her eyes spoke volumes.

  He nodded and headed out to fetch the car.

  The other vehicle was long gone. He could no longer even hear it.

  TJ, he thought as he hurried through the darkness. Thomas James. Could it be? Small for his age, brown hair and eyes. The description could easily be of Tommy. It would be a hell of a coincidence, wouldn’t it? But, if it was him, what was he doing with Burton? She had made him sound like another victim. Had Burton been holding him all this time? It seemed incredible. But then he remembered other cases where people had been held captive for years. It was perfectly possible.

  Had he really stumbled on a lead to his son?

  Butterflies seethed in his stomach. Then anger took over.

  If Burton had hurt him . . .

  His jaw clamped tight as he struggled to stay calm. He reached the car, climbed in and drove up to the barn, leaving the engine running and lights on as he headed inside. Before he reached the doors, Jane led the girl carefully out, one hand around her shoulders. Pete turned back and opened the back door of the car for them. This wasn’t the time to wait for an ambulance. They would take the girl to hospital themselves.

&nb
sp; As he swung the car around in the short-mown meadow, he heard the first faint flutter of helicopter blades and saw a light shining bright in the sky to the north-east. The chopper.

  With the car back on the track, he stopped and took out his phone, using a speed-dial number.

  ‘DC Miles, Exeter CID.’

  ‘Dave, it’s Pete. Get forensics out here to the barn ASAP. Rosie and at least one other victim were held here. And the chopper’s about to arrive, but Burton and his other victim are in a car, heading along a bridleway from here. We do not have eyes on. What we do have is the girl. We’re taking her to the RDE. Get Jill to call her parents, get them to meet us there, will you?’

  ‘Will do. Oh, and I heard back from Harry at Burton’s place. They’ve got hairs and fibres in the back of the van that match Rosie and her school uniform. Plenty of others, too.’

  ‘Good. Get a warrant for the house then.’

  ‘Already in process. DI Underhill’s on it.’

  ‘Right. Two more things we need. An arrest team at the house, in case he comes back there and an alert out on his car. It’s a dark blue Citroën C4. I don’t know the number. You’ll have to check with Swansea. You can head up the arrest team at Burton’s house. Get the warrants and get over there quick. If he does come back there, it’ll be just briefly, to grab some essentials and clear out, I’d imagine.’

  ‘OK, boss.’

  Pete ended the call, put away his phone and put the car into gear. Glancing in the mirror, he caught Jane’s eye. Rosie was lying across the seat wrapped in a space blanket that Pete had fetched from the boot of the car, her knees against the back of the passenger seat while her head rested in Jane’s lap.

  ‘How’s she doing?’

  Jane gave him a quick tilt of the head. As well as can be expected. ‘Won’t be long,’ he said. ‘We’ll soon be at the hospital, then you can see your mum and dad.’

  *

  Annie opened the front door before Pete had a chance to touch his key to the lock.

  ‘Dad! You’re early.’

  He swept her up into his arms and planted a kiss on her forehead. ‘I’m not stopping, Button. Just come to pick something up, then I’m off to the hospital. Got a witness to interview, I hope.’