by Sarah Flint
‘Does he know she’s here?’ Hunter was animated again.
‘Oh, my God!’ Charlie looked horrified! ‘He was in the office just now when she came in with me, he must have seen her.’
‘But he surely wouldn’t recognize her from all those years ago. She could be any domestic violence victim that we’re dealing with.’
‘Yes, she could have. But we mentioned she was the Polish woman from Dover who spoke to me on Crimewatch about a similar incident twenty years ago. I think I even mentioned her first name when I brought her through. Shit!’
She turned to Hunter. She could feel her legs beginning to shake slightly. Without another word, both burst through the door into the main office.
Paul looked up surprised. ‘What on earth’s the matter?’
‘Where’s Colin?’ she almost shouted.
Paul stared from one to the other of them, their shock registering on his face too.
‘He’s gone out. About ten minutes ago. Said he had to make some urgent enquiries.’
She sprinted out of the office, taking the stairs three at a time, closely followed by Hunter. They ran through to the back of the building and straight to the car park, but Colin’s car was missing.
‘Where could he have gone to?’
Hunter shrugged. ‘I think I could hazard a guess.’
They turned and ran back up the stairs to the office. Maybe Colin had left some clue as to where he might be heading but as she climbed the steps, she realised they were clutching at straws. He was too clever for that. It was too late. He knew.
Things were falling into place. How could they have missed the connection? Julie Hubbard’s disappearance had been the first case they’d known about and he had dealt with her previous domestic issues, but who would have suspected him, especially with the likes of Keith, her violent husband, and Justin Latchmere, her lover?
He knew Dana and Gemma from the Hubbard enquiries.
Olga Kaplinski’s information about the circumstances surrounding the case of Mary and Cain Townsend, flagged up the role of a police officer in their disappearance and indeed named Colin.
That in turn had provided the link to Colin’s role as a witnessing officer in Helena MccPherson’s domestic assault allegations.
It was so simple.
But what the hell had he done with them all? Could they still be alive? If they were and he knew they were on to him, he would more than likely be looking to silence them properly now. His victims were in more danger now than ever before.
They ran back into the main office where Bet was now sitting, white-faced and crying, her phone lying on the desk in front of her.
‘Are you OK? You’ve done brilliantly, even though it is a shock. None of us would ever have dreamed it could be Colin?’
She ran across and threw an arm around the older woman who was shaking.
‘It’s not that. I’ve just had a call from Nathaniel’s gran. She has me down as a contact if there’re any problems. Apparently Naz hasn’t turned up to collect Nathaniel as they’d arranged and she was supposed to be going out. Naz is nearly two hours late and she’s had to cancel her outing. Nathaniel’s still there, but Naz and Dean are missing. And I heard her and Colin talking the other day about places to go for day’s out. Colin was offering to take her.’
Chapter 41
‘We need to find out every little thing we can about Colin Butler.’
Hunter’s voice was authoritative and urgent. ‘Where he lives, any places in the vicinity of his house that could be worth looking at. We know that the vehicle that was used when Helena and Daisy were abducted had mud on the wheels, so it’s likely to be somewhere in woodlands, countryside, parkland. I’ll get the helicopter scrambled straight away with its heat-seeking capabilities to search areas near to where both Dana’s and the rental car were abandoned. We know what car he owns and that’s been circulated as a matter of urgency to all units, although he’ll no doubt know that.
We also need to find out what hobbies he has now? Gardening perhaps? There might be small-holdings, allotments that he could be using? Those of you that know him; sit down and go through everything that you can think of that he might have told you.’
‘He doesn’t say much about his personal life,’ Bet’s face told the story. It was what they were all thinking. How could the abductor literally have been under their noses all this time, pretending to help when really he was revelling in his access to the investigation?
‘He must have said something. Any little thing, wrack your brains. Naz’s life might depend on it.’
Charlie was listening to Hunter intently. Where would they get this information from quickly? Her mind was working fast. She vaguely remembered a conversation. Hadn’t he recently worked with informants? He would have had to be given extra vetting for that job to make sure there was nothing that could make him open to bribes. His whole history would be on that vetting form, every family member, past and present, old addresses, place of birth, even old partners. It would be a few years old. He’d been working in their unit for a couple of years now, but it would still be relevant up until then.
She shouted across to Hunter.
‘I’m going to the Yard for his vetting forms. I’ll give you a shout if I find anything.’
Hunter gave her the thumbs up and she was gone, running back down the stairs and out into the car park.
New Scotland Yard wasn’t far; across Westminster Bridge, around Parliament Square and straight into Victoria Street. She was soon passing Big Ben, standing tall, peering down on to the roof of the Houses of Parliament and Westminster Abbey. The car in front moved across into her lane. She hooted at the driver irritably, swinging her vehicle around it and accelerating away towards Victoria. The Yard was about halfway down, set back into Broadway, its triangular rotating sign synonymous with reliability and history.
She guided the car into the underground car park, cursing the attendant who seemed to be working in slow motion. Then she was flying up the stairs, running and running towards the records department. Hopefully she would locate Colin’s vetting form easily and it would point them in the right direction. Time was of the essence.
She found it quickly, her hands shaking as she scanned through the twenty pages of personal information that only a handful of people would ever have seen. Shit, he’d had a hard time when he was younger. A brother shown as deceased at a young age in a tragic fall from cliffs, a mother who had committed suicide, no trace of a father. She’d had no idea. None of them had. Colin only ever spoke politics: judgments in favour of ex-wives, laws against paternal rights, the rights of local communities and individuals who he believed had been overlooked. Now it seemed there was a whole hidden life of tragedy that had formed his beliefs, maybe turned him into the monster he had become. She was reading as she walked towards the car again. She had to get the form back, so they could dissect every entry.
She read down through the first couple of pages. Nothing, then a name registered; what was it she remembered, something from a recent conversation with Colin. The local news headlines talked about a nearby hospital that was being closed and he had become animated by the political issues surrounding its closure. The news story mirrored what had happened to a hospital linked to his childhood. She read it again and strained to recollect the anger in his words. His hospital had been shut down forever, years ago, even after the local council had promised to keep it running as a downgraded non-emergency unit. It was the hospital where he had been born, into a busy thriving maternity wing. It was the hospital where he had gone alone, as a child, to be stitched up in an accident and emergency unit that no longer existed and hadn’t for some time. She recalled Colin’s words and his disbelief. How could they shut it down after all their promises to keep it running as a cottage hospital? How could cost-cutting come before the needs of the community? He had been incensed, particularly after a large petition from all the people in the neighbourhood had been ignored. The government was full of
broken promises. They were then and they still were now.
She wondered.
She read it again. Place of birth, The War Memorial Hospital, Carshalton. It wasn’t too far to check it out personally before going back to the office and it was in the right direction to fit with Purley where Dana’s car had been found and Mitcham where the hire car was abandoned. She gave Hunter a quick ring to let him know where she was heading, leaving a message when he failed to answer, then she slapped the magnetic blue light on top of their nondescript Mondeo, put the sirens on and set out. If her hunch was right, Hunter would know where to come. If it was wrong, she could be back to the office within an hour or two. She had to try.
Thirty minutes later, with all the lights and sirens switched off, she was climbing a small hill at the side of a park. Through the boughs of a large horse chestnut tree, the landscape of London stretched out as far as the eye could see; the sky-scrapers of Canary Wharf bunched together in their own mini metropolis. The gates to the deserted hospital were set back to her right, out of view from the road, heavy and covered in a reddish hue of rust. A raft of notices warned trespassers of the presence of asbestos and instructed them to keep out. She parked her car up and walked across. A large padlock swung from the centre of the gates, holding them secure. She peered through a gap in the metal-work and looked into the hospital grounds. The grass all around seemed long but she could see a path worn down by vehicle tread through the centre of the overgrown interior roadway. She lifted the padlock up and examined it. It wasn’t rusty like the gates; it had obviously been opened and shut frequently. The metal was smooth and worn. Somebody had been going in and out.
Her heart beat was starting to race now. She had to find a way in. Barbed wire wound round the whole of the perimeter in several razor-sharp circuits. The walls were high and secure. Circling the exterior wall she came to a large oak with one of its branches extending out towards the wire. It was precarious but she had spent her childhood with Jamie climbing trees and running through mud, moors and forests; and there was no other way. She clambered along the branch, pulling the wire back just enough to balance on the top of the wall, and thudded down on to the long grass. Nothing had been trodden down here. She inched forward using the trees as cover, trying to find her way back towards the small roadway where the grass had been squashed down.
The sun was setting and the whole place seemed dark and threatening. Trees overhung the grounds and low clouds prevented any light from the full moon getting through. Ivy had taken control, covering the walls of the buildings, hanging down off drainpipes and intertwining with weeds and thistles. She dare not use the light from her phone to show her the way, she had to let her eyes acclimatize and watch in the gloom for any movement. She moved slowly, straining to hear over the soft swishing of the grass. The roadway and buildings all led to the main entrance of the hospital, its door covered in thick metal security bars. The entrance was in darkness and there appeared to be no way in. She moved round the corner of the nearest block, to where the roadway spidered off to a separate building, it’s roof partially missing. The gates to this building were pulled to one side, leaving the entrance opening into a small yard. The roadway led into this courtyard, the trampled weeds pointing into a far corner out of sight of the gate.
She tiptoed forward, holding her breath as she crossed the gap between the two buildings. She thought she could hear the sound of a man’s low guttural laugh carried across in the breeze, but when she stopped moving all she could hear was the sound of a wood pigeon cooing in the silence.
She stepped into the courtyard of what appeared to be a laundry block and saw the car immediately, standing in the far corner with only the slight glimmer of the moon reflecting off its headlights and grill. It was Colin’s all right; but the engine, when she touched it was stone cold. He’d obviously been here for some time. She checked the interior and was relieved not to find the body of Naz or little Dean lying across the back seat.
She was right: he was here, somewhere in the grounds of the hospital where he had sat alone and in pain as a child without the care of his mother.
Charlie shivered as a shudder of pure fear ran through her. This whole place was sinister, malevolent even; filled with Colin’s evil. She could almost feel his breath on the back of her neck. She needed to get away from this building and out into the open where she could summon more help and where she wouldn’t be trapped if he were to return. Sliding back away from the car, she inched out into the fresh air and round to the side of the building. She squatted down against the wall and pulled out her phone, tapping a text to Hunter explaining what she had found. She dare not speak out loud. He would know what was needed and would be straight on his way. The light from the display on the front of the phone shone bright in the darkness but she hid it behind her jacket. Standing up when she finished, she gazed out past the back of the building.
The grounds seemed to spread out behind the main blocks. She had no idea how far they went or how many other small outbuildings were tucked away. All she knew was Colin Butler was somewhere out there and he was the only one who knew the fate of his victims and whether they were alive or dead.
Chapter 42
The darkness was just what he needed now. He revelled in the cloak of invisibility it gave him. He knew this place like the back of his hand, every tiny outbuilding, every pathway through the trees; he even knew drains where the lids came off and he could access the corridor of sewers that lay beneath the hospital. He’d spent his life coming back and forth, back and forth, both as a child when it had been open and now, in the last few years, since it had been closed. It was here where he loved to be with his memories.
He’d checked on both his latest pairs when he returned; Naz and Dean safely tucked away, Naz’s eyes shooting pure hate at him as he’d looked down at her. She was more like his mother than even he had realized. Fuck, it turned him on at just the thought.
Dana lay silently, so demure, so afraid; her eyes blank with pain. He had shown her no pity; she was a bitch who had chosen her favourite daughter over poor Aiden. Gemma lay cold beside her now. He had enjoyed killing her, her long neck slit from ear to ear within the last few hours. Dana’s eyes had screamed at the awful sight she was witnessing. The temptation to finish her off too was strong but she, more than the others, deserved to lie next to her dead daughter for as long as it took for them to find her. She deserved to live long in the knowledge that she had caused this by her overt favouritism. Hopefully they wouldn’t find her straight away, but he knew that his time was limited. Charlie was already here.
She was squatting just within his sight now and she would no doubt have told the others where they were. They would know he was the person they were hunting, he Colin Butler, innocuous, hard-working, oh so hard-working, keeping up with the investigation down to every last enquiry; meek and mild Colin, who everyone talked down to, who everyone ignored and disrespected, who nobody listened to. Well they would be listening to him now, wouldn’t they? They would have to, if they wanted to see Dana and Naz and Dean and Charlie alive again? He intended to make the most of every second.
His eyes and ears were so attuned to the atmosphere that he’d felt her presence immediately. It had only taken a few minutes to find the freshly trodden grass; he knew every inch of the hospital grounds and then he’d just followed the track, like a predator following a scent. Now he had her in his sight. Charlie’s phone had given her position away, when it had suddenly blinked into action and she’d taken it from her pocket to read the incoming message. He guessed that she’d have sent a message out first, probably being careful not to show its light, but when a message had come through to her she hadn’t been so careful in her hurry to read it. If she was here she’d obviously worked out the last piece of the jigsaw.
He’d known the game was over when Olga from Dover had been walked through the office. Even though she’d obviously aged, she still bore a remarkable resemblance to the woman he had bribed to help him
all those years ago. The bitch had ruined his plans. It was all her fault. Another bitch was here now, spoiling things for him, but he wouldn’t let her stop his fun. No, the fun was about to start.
He shrunk back behind a tree and pulled out his own phone. She was obviously confident that he wouldn’t know she was there. What a fright she’d have, in a few seconds. He chuckled to himself.
Pressing her number, Colin waited for the phone to show that it was ringing then he shoved it down deep in his pocket and started to creep through the grass towards where she was wedged against the wall. He grinned to himself as she glanced down into her pocket, the thin chink of light illuminating the shock on her face. She was stock-still, clearly not daring to move while she decided what to do, her whole body tense and rigid. He wasn’t expecting her to answer; she wouldn’t risk her voice being heard but he guessed that she would be itching to.
She was still staring down into her pocket at her phone when he pounced, pulling his knife out as he did so. By the time she realized he was there it was too late. He had the blade pressed up to her cheek while his arm pinned her against the brickwork.
Deftly he pulled her hands up behind her back and wrapped twine round both wrists, pulling it tight.
‘Well, fancy seeing you here, Charlie. Have you come to rescue Naz?’
He sneered towards her, his teeth yellow in the moonlight.
‘Doesn’t look like you’ve done very well now, does it? And there was I thinking you were a bit stronger than most of the others; the great Charlie fucking Stafford who single-handedly tackled a handful of robbers and nearly lost her life at the hands of that vicious arsehole, Keith Hubbard. Yet now you’ve walked straight into my arms. Do you think you’re better than us men? That you don’t have to take care? You can do it all on your own?’
‘I’m not on my own.’
‘Well it certainly looks like it to me. Only one set of tracks and you hiding here scared to death while you wait for the cavalry to arrive. I’m sure you must have called them by now. But it’s going to arrive too late for you all. I’ve got nothing to lose now.’
