Angel

by Anita Waller

  Tidying some leaflets in the entrance to the church, Fran looked up with a smile, expecting to greet a tourist, not her husband.

  ‘Get your things,’ he said. ‘Don’t make a fuss. I need you to come with me.’

  ‘Was it you making that awful racket with your siren?’

  ‘Yes. Now come on.’

  ‘No. Not without a damn good reason, Jake. I’ve another hour yet before Janet gets here.’

  ‘Do you want me to arrest you?’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous.’

  ‘I’ll arrest you if I have to, Fran. Now go and get your coat and bag. You’re leaving. I’ll explain in a bit. Tell them you need some time away, family matters or something. Now, do I get the handcuffs out?’

  She glared at him and walked towards the room set aside for staff members. He followed her.

  ‘I can get my own coat,’ she snapped.

  ‘No, you can’t. Welcome to my world, Fran.’

  He stood by her side while she explained she wouldn’t be in for a few days and then they returned to his car.

  ‘I’ll follow you,’ she said. ‘Where are you going? Back to the station?’

  ‘Yes,’ he said and held open the passenger door. ‘Get in, and make it snappy. We’re vulnerable out here.’

  ‘But ... my car...’

  ‘I’ll get Johnson to pick it up. You’ll have it back tonight. Get in the bloody car, woman!’

  They spoke very little on the way back. Dunbar said he wanted her to listen to something before making any smart Alec comments.

  She could tell he was scared; she had never seen him scared before. He was always in control, always the one she turned to when she was scared. He was the one who removed spiders, who killed moths when they threatened to come within ten yards of her. He was her rock.

  He ushered her out of the car, looking all around him the whole time. He breathed a sigh of relief when they were in his office. He helped her remove her coat and hung it on the coat stand. He took her in his arms, held her close and kissed her.

  The applause from the main office where several members of his team were working was sustained and raucous and he looked through his partition window at them with a grin.

  ‘Sit here,’ he said to Fran. ‘I need one or two more in to hear this. Won’t be a minute.’

  He went out into the outer office and asked them all to collect in his room. Sarah was the first to move and grabbed a note pad and pen.

  Eventually eight people crowded into the tiny place and they all waited expectantly, puzzled. A DI’s wife in the office?

  ‘Right, everybody, I need you to listen to this. The call came in just as I left for my lunch. I listened to it as soon as I got back and then I went to get my wife from St. Merryn. She is hearing this for the first time as well; she has no idea why she’s sitting in my office and she definitely has no idea why I threatened to arrest her in St. Merryn church.’ He smiled gently at her. ‘You’ll understand in a minute, Fran, but I apologise if you felt harassed.’

  He pressed the play button and Treverick’s voice filled the room. Dunbar heard a gasp but not from Fran who went white and looked at her husband.

  ‘Now,’ he addressed his team members, ‘I could waste public money by having this call traced back to a phone but it will do no good. We know Treverick by now. This will be so far from where he’s staying it will be of no use to us at all. This phone message isn’t going to help us at all except put us all on high alert, I hope.’

  ‘What about your wife, sir? How can we help?’

  ‘Thank you, Johnson, but you can’t – oh, other than by getting someone to run you out to St.Merryn church car park and collecting her car. She’s not going to need it for a bit but I’d like you to bring it back and park it in the police car park here. Before you get in it, Johnson, get on the floor and have a good look underneath. Check under the bonnet and in the boot. If there’s anything at all that you’re not happy with, we’ll get the bomb squad out to check it over. I’d rather you were wrong than dead.’

  Andy Johnson nodded, signalling he understood. Fran handed him the keys.

  ‘It’s a red mini, Andy. Registration is on the key ring. It’s a bit dodgy getting into second gear. Just be aware. Oh, and there’s a warning light comes on and stays on but I’m sure it’s all right.’

  Dunbar looked at her.

  ‘What warning light?’

  ‘Oh, don’t fuss. It’s nothing new. It’s been coming on for a few weeks.’

  Johnson grinned.

  ‘This is like listening to my girl friend. It’ll be the oil light, I guarantee it. I’ll have a look sir, and if it’s oil, I’ll put some in. And I’ll check the water.’

  ‘Thank you, Andy. Right, off you go all of you. Remember, this is the first time we’ve had this sort of communication from him and it feels as if he’s stepping things up a notch. Be extra vigilant.’

  They all left the office and Sarah squeezed Fran’s shoulder.

  ‘Trust him,’ she whispered. ‘We all do.’

  She smiled in acknowledgment and then turned to Jake.

  ‘So now what?’

  ‘New York?’

  She stifled a squeak. ‘Really?’

  ‘On one condition, Fran. You tell nobody other than Kate that you’re going – and I mean absolutely nobody. When you speak to Kate, tell her your life is in danger and she mustn’t tell anybody that you’re flying over to her. I have to trust you will be safe there but I can only concentrate on my job if you follow my instructions absolutely to the letter.’

  ‘Of course. When do I go?’

  ‘I’m booking your ticket now. You’re going to be on the next available flight. There’s just one issue. No luggage.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘If Treverick is watching our house, I don’t want him to see you wheeling out a suitcase. He would just follow us to the airport and find out where you’re flying. You would be easy to trace. Take that big handbag you’re so fond of and pack it with things like, oh, I don’t know, stuff you’ll need on the flight. You and Kate are twins, for heaven’s sake, so I’m sure she can find you some clothes for a couple of days till you can get out and buy some. Just use the credit card that you refuse to use, sweetheart, and get what you want. It could be a long trip but as soon as we have him, you can come home. I’m so sorry this has happened, Fran. I try to keep work away from you...’

  ‘Hey, it’s fine. I’m a little confused as to why only Kate can know but I can live with that.’

  ‘We believe, or at least Sarah and I believe, that Treverick has an accomplice. We have no proof but he seems to know our every move. That’s why you can’t tell anybody. We don’t know who is giving him information.’

  He handed her the receiver. ‘Here, ring Kate. And then I’ll book your ticket.’

  Chapter 41

  He drove Fran to Wadebridge, pulling up on the High Street. He waited, the ever-dutiful husband, while she went into one of the shops situated in a courtyard. She carried on walking through to the back alleyway that led out of the courtyard and walked down the road to the taxi rank. Twenty-four hours later she was in America.

  Dunbar continued to sit in the car for three quarters of an hour after dropping off his wife at the shops, continually checking his watch and peering through the car windows as if looking for her. He had no idea whether Treverick was watching or not, but he had to keep up the pretence for as long as possible that she was just on a shopping trip. Eventually he got out of the car, walked into the courtyard of shops and went into each one as if trying to find her. He then went back to his car and drove off. He had given her around an hour and a half head start, he hoped.

  The text from her that said

  ‘At Cheltenham xxx’

  told him that she was at Gatwick and through into the departures lounge. He had booked her to travel business class and mentally wished her God speed. His text back to her simply said ‘Enjoy xxx’. He knew it would be some time before
he saw her again.

  It felt bleak at home. He wasn’t sure how to handle it; they hadn’t really been apart for all of their married life – the odd couple of days if he had to attend conferences but no extended time, as this was promising to be. It was a spur of the moment decision that made him book into a hotel. He realised he probably wasn’t going to eat now; Fran enjoyed cooking, he didn’t. And just how much fish and chips or pizza could one stomach absorb? He also didn’t relish the idea of having to check out every little noise in their three hundred year old cottage in case it was Treverick. A three hundred year old cottage has plenty of strange noises.

  He picked one of the hotels near the police station, packed a bag and moved in that night. He would text Fran with his location when she contacted him to say she was safely at Kate’s apartment.

  Then he slept. Deeply.

  His next contact with Fran was when she sent a text saying credit cards are good xxx. He smiled to himself and sent one back that said don’t use wisely xxx. She was as safe now as she could possibly be and he put her on the back burner in his mind. He needed to concentrate on his job now and without the worry that Treverick’s threat had created, he felt better equipped to do that.

  As he was dropping off to sleep in the comfort of the hotel he had realised that in all the panic of getting Fran from St. Merryn and the subsequent organisation of her escape, he hadn’t given another thought to the second message on the answering machine.

  When he arrived in his office feeling much more like himself, he glanced at the red light. It showed two messages.

  He pressed the first one and it was from Mark Carter; he explained it was just a courtesy call, just checking in with him and asking if there was anything further they could be doing. He said there was no need to get back to him, and just to be aware that he was there if he was needed. Dunbar actually liked Mark and his ties and he certainly appreciated the intelligence of the man. That message was timed three minutes later than the Treverick one.

  He pressed the play button again to hear and then delete the final message. It was timed at 3 am and it was from Treverick.

  She’s gone then. But she can’t stay away forever, can she? And just remember, DI Dunbar, there’s nowhere in this world that’s out of my reach. You’ve protected her for the moment but if she knows where my son is then she’s got that information from you. I’ll leave you to think about that one, Jakey boy.

  He put a finger up to the answering machine and quietly said ‘Fuck you, Treverick, fuck you.’

  The rest of the day was spent comparing the lists he had been making when he had been catapulted out of the office to get Fran. He would miss her very much. He was in the habit of bouncing thoughts off her and she always seemed to know the right thing to say to him.

  Just as he decided to stop for the day, his phone rang.

  ‘Dunbar,’ he answered.

  ‘Jake, he’s rung here.’

  ‘Pilot? You’re saying Treverick’s rung?’

  ‘Yes. Lauren answered and she’s in pieces now.’

  ‘I’ll be there in fifteen minutes. In the meantime, get Lauren to write down as accurately as possible everything he said.’

  He picked up his coat and was out of the office and in his car within a couple of minutes. He went through the usual ‘Good evening, DI Dunbar. Pop your boot, please’ and then headed up the drive to the house. Within seconds of parking his car, one of Mark’s men appeared and stood by his vehicle.

  He showed his ID and was accompanied to the front door. Pilot let him in and they moved through into the lounge.

  Lauren’s eyes were red but she appeared to be composed.

  ‘Did he ring on the landline?’

  She nodded and handed him a piece of paper.

  ‘This, as far as I can recall, is the conversation. It was very short. He just wanted to frighten me. This is something new, Jake, isn’t it? We’ve not heard him speak before, or at least not since he was Brian Lazenby.’

  ‘Yes, it’s something new,’ he agreed. ‘He phoned me twice yesterday, both answer phone messages. In my case the first one issued threats against my wife and the second one acknowledged I had got my wife to a place of safety, so he was coming for me.’

  Lauren gasped. ‘Your wife! But...’

  ‘Don’t worry. She’s safe. He’s trying to find his son. He thought my wife might know; he thought I might have told her where Marcia Shaw and the little lad are. If only. I have no idea where she is but she did us no favours selling this to the press. That death in Truro Cathedral yesterday; did you hear about it?’

  Pilot nodded.

  ‘No details though, just that there had been a body.’

  ‘It was where Sarah and I had to rush to when we left here. The body was Kenny Raines, the journalist who wrote the article. Treverick obviously disagreed with his writing about him.’

  He gave them no further details; enough was enough. He looked at the piece of paper Lauren had given him. It had been a short conversation but she had written each side of it down.

  Treverick call 4.17 pm approx.

  Me: Hello?

  T: Is Lauren there, please?

  Me: Speaking. Who is this?

  T: A friend. Angel’s Daddy.

  Me: What?

  T: You might know me as Ron.

  Me: No.

  T: Listen to me, sweetheart. Angel belongs with me, just as my son does. I have money. Lots of money. Would you like to sell her back to me? I’ll take care of her. (Some laughter here). If she comes back to me, I’ll not kill anyone else. If she doesn’t, Brenda is next.

  Me: You evil, fucking pervert.

  I slammed the phone down at this point. Apologies for my language but you asked me to be accurate in what was said.

  His accent was sort of Northern, but not like Ken’s is Northern. It was maybe more North East, Tyneside area, but with a touch of poshness to it. Sorry I can’t be more explicit. He definitely didn’t sound anything like Brian Lazenby.

  He looked at Lauren.

  ‘Thank you. This is very good. I’ll have it transferred to a witness statement and then next time I see you it will need checking and signing. I’m sorry this had to happen to you, to all of you, but he’s not shooting guns down a phone. If all he did was make phone calls, I wouldn’t be half as concerned. What worries me now is why he is suddenly doing this? It can only be that he thinks it will rattle us even more. He’s trying to mess with our heads but phone calls are amateurish compared with what he’s already done. I just need you to put it in perspective, Lauren, and see it for what it is. Try not to dwell on it and carry on doing what you’re doing.’

  She flashed him a half smile; it was a good job he couldn’t mind read.

  ‘I’m not going back to work. I’m staying at the Old Custom House so if you need me, ring me on my mobile. And, Lauren, don’t hesitate. If you need me for anything, call me.

  The drive back down into Padstow took very little time and although Dunbar enjoyed the hotel restaurant meal, his mind wasn’t on eating. Treverick had now moved into playing mind games but he was fully aware these threats couldn’t be ignored. If he said he was going to target Brenda, then Brenda he would definitely be targeting. Luckily, she very rarely ventured beyond the confines of their own wing but he needed to speak with both her and Ken before much longer.

  He slept fitfully; while the bed was ultra comfortable, Dunbar’s brain was not. Facts, figures, theories, span round and round in his mind, preventing him from sleeping.

  He was in his office early; he had given up on sleep by five o’clock. Coffee didn’t help; Sarah popped her head round the door and asked if he wanted one but he declined with a smile. He’d had two already.

  He stood and walked to his window that overlooked the car park. He could see Fran’s mini, the car that now had some oil and water in it and was probably breathing a sigh of relief. He must remember to check it for her in future.

  He surveyed the scene below him for quite
some time allowing his mind to slow down. When Sarah popped her head round his door it brought him out of his reverie.

  ‘Sorry, Sarah. Can I help? Was just thinking...’

  ‘You can take this phone call, sir. It’s Jeanette Yardley and she’s got some information for you.’

  He moved to his desk and picked up the receiver.

  ‘Jeanette? DI Dunbar.’

  He listened for a minute and then said ‘I need to come and see you.’

  He put down the receiver and called Sarah back in. ‘We’re going out at three o’clock. This could be the break we’ve been waiting for.’

  Chapter 42

  By 3.30 pm they were walking through the front door of Jeanette Yardley’s home. She greeted them with a smile and said the coffee was almost ready. They followed her into the lounge and sat in the two armchairs while she disappeared into the kitchen to get the drinks.

  ‘This is lovely,’ Sarah whispered to Dunbar.

  He nodded. ‘She certainly has an artist’s flair for colour. Very peaceful atmosphere, isn’t it?’

  ‘It’s how I’d like my new place to be,’ she said. ‘I’m moving into a new flat within the next month.’

  ‘We’re paying you too much then,’ he said with a laugh.

  Jeanette arrived to break up the banter and sat down facing them.

  ‘So,’ she began, ‘I saw him. I saw Treverick or whatever he’s called now. Apparently he changes his name frequently?’

  Dunbar nodded.

  ‘You’re sure it was him?’

  ‘Definitely. I don’t know where he’s living because I couldn’t hang around any longer watching him. I daren’t go to find a policeman or ring you because I thought he might have disappeared by the time I got back, so it was a strange sort of situation. I just stayed watching him for as long as I could and then I had to leave for a doctor’s appointment. I’m so sorry.’