A Cold Grave: A DCI Danny Flint Book

by Negus, Trevor

  91

  2 July 1986

  South Lodge, Retford

  Jimmy Wade shifted uncomfortably.

  He was still squatting on his haunches and remained hidden in the middle of the rhododendron bushes.

  What was keeping her?

  He’d carefully staged everything inside the cottage so the detective would quickly realise the property was empty. He wanted her to make her way outside into the garden, where he could spring his trap.

  He hadn’t expected her to take so long to get through the cottage. The muscles in his thighs were beginning to ache and burn.

  Just as he was about to change his position, he saw movement in the doorway.

  Finally, he got a clear, unobstructed view of Rachel. This time, there were no net curtains or other obstructions in the way.

  In the bright sunlight, he thought she looked wonderful.

  From where he was hiding, he could clearly see the fear etched onto her face. Fine lines had formed at the corners of her eyes as she squinted against the bright sunlight.

  Even though she was undeniably stressed, she still maintained an unbowed demeanour. Even in the face of a real and present danger, her spirit was there for all to see.

  In any other scenario, he would have tried to make her his own. Deep down, he knew it was her spirit and courage that meant he would never be able to own her in the way he wanted to.

  He would always be doomed to fail, and Jimmy Wade loathed failure.

  He understood that the only way he could ever truly possess her was by killing her.

  The whole situation felt intolerable to him, because he genuinely believed she was a magnificent woman.

  As she stepped a few yards further outside, away from the kitchen door and out into the bright sunlight, he involuntarily hunched down lower.

  She paused again, looking around at the sights and sounds outside the cottage.

  The air outside was completely still.

  The only sounds to be heard were the gentle waters of the river Poulter, as it flowed over the stones in the shallows, and the songbirds that were singing in the treeline.

  There wasn’t a breath of wind. Even the ever-present whisper of the breeze, as it passed through the pine forest, was silent.

  92

  2 July 1986

  South Lodge, Retford

  Rachel moved further away from the cottage door and suddenly felt even more exposed. She had the feeling that a thousand eyes were upon her, watching her, scrutinising her.

  She experienced an almost overwhelming urge to rush back inside the cottage.

  The old stone building that, minutes before, had felt like a place of menace and threat had transformed into a sanctuary that offered safety and salvation.

  Fighting her instincts, she moved further away from the cottage and walked towards the nearest outbuilding.

  Remembering the words of the sniper team, she gave a wide berth to the dark-green-leaved rhododendron bushes on her immediate left.

  The plants still held the remnants of the large purple-headed flowers that had bloomed earlier in the year. The flowers were almost all dead, and the once-vibrant purple was now tinged with brown.

  She could see no movement or any other perceived threat in the bushes. In deference to the received warning, she maintained a good distance from them as she walked down the narrow path towards the outbuilding.

  Rachel paused on the path and listened before shouting, ‘Melissa, where are you?’

  There was no reply.

  She tried again. Still no reply.

  Moving forward, she could now see that the heavy wooden door on the first of the outbuildings was wedged open. She could see the brand-new, stainless-steel hasp on the door where a padlock would fit.

  She now understood the reason Danny had instructed her not to enter the outbuilding under any circumstances.

  If she somehow ended up locked inside that building with Wade, the armed teams wouldn’t be able to rescue her quickly. It would also make the sniper team who were covering her redundant.

  She manoeuvred around until she could see inside the outbuilding. She maintained a distance of five yards from the doorway.

  From her position in bright sunlight, it was difficult to see inside the dark outbuilding. As she peered into the gloom, she could finally make out a figure sitting on the floor, over by the far wall.

  Rachel could see the blonde hair on the seated figure. She shouted, ‘Is that you, Melissa?’

  A very timid, frightened voice said, ‘Yes.’

  ‘Why are you in there, Melissa? What’s happening?’

  ‘You’ve got to help me! I’m chained up in here. It’s Jimmy Wade; he’s holding me prisoner. Can you get these chains off me, please?’

  Rachel started to move towards the outbuilding door so she could go inside and release Melissa, when she heard a calm voice through her covert earpiece.

  ‘Sniper team Charlie to DC Moore. Be advised you have the unidentified, dark-haired male approaching you from behind. Over.’

  Rachel spun around and saw the man walking towards her from the direction of the bushes.

  He was no more than twenty yards away.

  Instantly, she recognised the features of Jimmy Wade.

  The psychopath had significantly changed his appearance, but it was definitely Wade.

  Pressing the button in the palm of her right hand, Rachel said loudly, ‘Stay where you are, Wade. The cottage is surrounded by armed police.’

  Jimmy Wade stopped. He spread his arms wide, palms open, and smiled benignly.

  Suddenly, Rachel had a memory of sitting in Wade’s house, sipping coffee, as she asked him questions about the death of the miner Albie Jones in 1984. He had smiled at her in exactly the same way back then. It was the smile of the python just before it ate the rabbit.

  He was now only fifteen yards from Rachel, still moving slowly towards her.

  ‘Oh, please, Rachel. Surely you can do better than that?’

  ‘I mean it, Wade; they’re already moving forward through the woods as we speak.’

  He stopped momentarily and said, in a mocking voice, ‘The problem I’m having with this conversation is that I just don’t believe you. I watched you both arrive. You and your skinny female partner. Not a handgun or a rifle between you. While we’re on the subject of your skinny partner, where is she? Still sitting in the car? Didn’t she fancy having a chat with the lovely Melissa in our little outbuilding? Left it all for you to sort out, did she?’

  Inexorably, he started edging towards her again.

  Wanting to appear confident and trying to disguise the tremor in her voice, she said, ‘I mean it, Wade. Stay where you are. Stand still.’

  Whenever she spoke, her middle finger remained pressed down on the transmitter button.

  She released the pressure momentarily and heard a soft, reassuring voice through her earpiece. ‘If he comes directly at you, Rachel, do not run. Stand still. You’ll want to run, but I need you to just stand still, okay?’

  She said nothing, but in her mind, she heard herself replying to the soothing voice. Okay.

  93

  2 July 1986

  South Lodge, Retford

  PC Tom Naylor had watched the detective as she moved out of the cottage and made her way towards the outbuilding.

  Eventually, she’d moved out of his vision, out of the view offered by the telescopic sight fitted to the Ruger sniper rifle.

  His spotter, PC Matt Jarvis, had maintained a softly spoken commentary on the detective’s subsequent movements. This meant the sniper was fully appraised on what was happening to her, while he maintained sight picture on the area of bushes where the man had disappeared.

  As Naylor maintained his watch on the bushes, he became aware of movement.

  Suddenly, the man hiding there had stood up.

  As the sniper watched him, the man crouched over and began to move towards the detective. Looking through the telescopic sight on the
rifle, he followed the man’s movements. Through his earpiece, he heard his spotter say over the radio, ‘Sniper team Charlie to DC Moore, be advised you have the unidentified, dark-haired male approaching you from behind. Over.’

  By the time the detective turned to face the male, he was no more than twenty yards away from her.

  The sniper could now clearly see both the detective and the unidentified male within the confines of his telescopic sight.

  He then heard the voice of the detective through his earpiece: ‘Stay where you are, Wade. The cottage is surrounded by armed police.’

  She had definitely said the name Wade. There was no mistaking it.

  The sniper heard his spotter whisper, ‘She said “Wade”. That’s Jimmy Wade down there. You’d better be ready, Tom.’

  Tom Naylor said nothing. He was now totally concentrated on the male figure. He blinked often and focussed on the figure through the telescopic sight. Carefully he placed the point of the stick sight onto the left ear of Jimmy Wade.

  He could see that Wade continued to inch closer towards the detective as he spoke to her, and that he was feeling for something behind his back.

  To the sniper, it was obvious that Wade was about to launch an attack.

  He opened the transmitter of his own covert radio by pressing his left palm against the stock of the rifle, which caused pressure on the switch in the palm of his hand.

  He said in a whisper, ‘If he comes directly at you, Rachel, do not run. Stand still. You’ll want to run, but I need you to just stand still, okay?’

  As he calmly spoke to the detective, he maintained the sight picture on the suspect’s head. He slipped his index finger within the trigger guard and took up first pressure.

  94

  2 July 1986

  South Lodge, Retford

  Rachel was once again staring into those all-too-familiar eyes … cold and emotionless blue eyes that she’d seen in so many of her nightmares.

  Wade grinned cruelly and said, ‘It really is just you and me now, Rachel. It’s time we became reacquainted.’

  Her mind was racing. Think, Rachel, think.

  She blurted out, ‘Where’s Stewart Ainsworth?’

  ‘Don’t worry about our friendly social worker, Mr Ainsworth. He’s still here. He’s in the field over the bridge, lying next to his two best mates, Barnes and Williams.’

  He gestured over towards the field that ran down towards the river. ‘They all had to answer for the way they disrespected me.’

  Rachel knew she had to try to keep him talking. She knew the firearms team would be getting closer.

  ‘What have you done to them?’

  ‘Me? I didn’t do anything to them, Rachel. Fred killed Jack, and Melissa killed Fred and Stewart. As always, I’m an innocent man. Anyway, as much as I’d love to tell you exactly what happened to those three no-marks, I think we’ve talked long enough. Come on now; we both know how all this has to end. You cheated me once. You won’t do it again.’

  Rachel saw him reach behind his back and remove a heavy ball-peen hammer from the waistband of his jeans.

  Wade grinned and tossed the hammer from hand to hand, feeling the weight.

  Suddenly, without warning, Wade launched himself towards her. He was holding the hammer aloft, ready to bring it crashing down on the top of her skull.

  Fighting every fibre of her survival instincts, which were screaming at her to flee, Rachel remained rooted to the spot.

  She stared directly into the maniacal eyes of the onrushing psychopath.

  Just as the heavy ball-peen hammer started on its downward arc towards her head, Wade’s face suddenly disintegrated before her eyes.

  The sound of the shot arrived fractionally after the bullet had smashed through Wade’s head, killing him instantly.

  Wade’s forward momentum caused his body to crash into Rachel, knocking her backwards onto the grass.

  In her earpiece, she heard the same calm voice saying, ‘All units, Wade’s down, but so is DC Moore. Get in there fast.’

  Rachel was lying flat on her back, winded; all the air had been knocked from her body.

  She felt moisture on her face and wiped her hand across her left cheek. Looking at her hand, she recoiled in horror when she realised her face was covered in bone fragments, blood and brain matter.

  Crawling backwards away from the dead psychopath, she managed to press the radio transmitter in her palm. She spluttered, ‘I’m okay, I’m okay. Wade’s dead.’

  As she tried to stand, she saw the first of the black-clad Special Operations Unit officers emerging from the woodland. They were racing towards her, with their H&K MP5 weapons in their shoulders, pointing towards the body of Wade.

  Suddenly, Rachel saw Tina emerging from the back door of the cottage.

  ‘I’m okay, Tina. I’m okay.’

  Taking a handkerchief from her pocket, Tina began wiping blood from Rachel’s face. She held her friend and said, ‘Thank God for that. That was too bloody close. You could have been seriously injured or killed.’

  ‘But I wasn’t, so it’s all good. Braithwaite’s chained up in the outbuilding; go and help her, Tina. I’m okay, honestly.’

  Seconds later, Tina emerged from the outbuilding with Melissa Braithwaite, who was sobbing quietly, repeating the words, ‘Is he dead?’

  Tina turned to Rachel and said quietly, ‘Did you say she was chained up?’

  ‘That’s what she said. Why?’

  ‘Because she wasn’t. She was just sitting there in the dirt, crying.’

  ‘I don’t know. I probably misheard her; it’s been a pretty stressful last five minutes.’

  As Rachel finished her sentence, her voice broke with emotion.

  Suddenly, everything that had happened overwhelmed her, and she felt her legs buckle.

  Tina quickly grabbed her colleague and said, ‘Come over here, out of the way. Sit down, Rachel; take some deep breaths.’

  Through her earpiece, Rachel could hear Danny Flint barking out instructions to preserve the scene of the shooting.

  For a split second, she imagined him giving out the same orders, to preserve the scene of her murder at the hands of Jimmy Wade.

  Suddenly, Rachel felt very cold and very alone.

  95

  5 August 1986

  Eakring Road, Mansfield, Nottinghamshire

  ‘Oh, it’s you.’

  The voice belonged to Rachel Moore’s brother, Joe.

  The powerful Royal Marine commando stood with his muscular arms folded across his chest, effectively barring the entrance into the three-bedroom semi-detached house owned by his sister.

  Danny waited patiently on the doorstep.

  He knew Rachel had been deeply affected by the shooting of Jimmy Wade. At first, she’d seemed fine and had continued working on the case, alongside Tina Prowse. Making enquiries into the deaths of Stewart Ainsworth, Fred Barnes and Jack Williams.

  Then the night before last, Rachel had been found in the early hours of the morning in the car park at Mansfield Police Station. She had been sitting alone in her car, quietly sobbing.

  She had been unable to speak to the officers who found her. Eventually, she was coaxed out of the car and taken to hospital by very worried colleagues. The duty inspector had immediately contacted Rachel’s brother, Joe, who lived in Poole, Dorset, and informed him of his sister’s condition.

  Joe had obtained an emergency forty-eight-hour pass from his commanding officer and travelled directly to King’s Mill Hospital.

  The doctor who attended to Rachel at the hospital diagnosed the problem as a classic case of post-traumatic stress. He prescribed some tranquilisers and immediate rest in the short term. He also advised she seek professional help and counselling in the long term, to try to rectify the issues that had caused the stress.

  Everyone on the force knew exactly what the cause of that stress was.

  Danny was notified of Rachel’s illness the next morning. He was attending a Senio
r Investigating Officers course in Newcastle, Tyne and Wear. He was due to give a lecture that morning on the extradition procedures that had followed the arrest of Jimmy Wade when he was first identified in New South Wales, Australia.

  The moment he’d finished the lecture, he had set off back to Nottinghamshire. He had driven directly to Rachel’s house.

  He hadn’t been surprised to see Joe open the door. He recalled how close he was to his older sister.

  Joe finally spoke: ‘What exactly do you want, Mr Flint?’

  Danny went to step inside the house. Joe, however, gripped Danny’s forearm, stopped him in his tracks and whispered menacingly, ‘I respected you once. Why the fuck did you allow my sister to face that psycho on her own, and put her in harm’s way like that?’

  Danny was tired from the drive and feeling irritable already. This confrontation, he didn’t need.

  He pulled his arm away from Joe’s vice-like grip and growled back, ‘She wasn’t on her own. That’s the reason she’s still here and alive to tell the tale. With rank, there sometimes comes an onerous responsibility. I had an opportunity to capture one of the most dangerous killers we’ve had in this country for a long, long time. I knew that your sister was the only person who could delay Wade long enough for backup to get in to help her. Don’t forget, there was also the opportunity to rescue four possible hostages. Don’t you understand, Joe? For some reason, your sister’s very existence had struck a personal note with Wade. He was unable to resist her. When given the opportunity to get close to your sister, he lost all of his usual animal cunning.’

  ‘When you use that phrase, “get close” … what you’re actually saying is giving Wade the opportunity to kill my sister.’

  ‘Yes. I suppose that’s exactly what it boils down to, and it’s testament to your sister’s courage that she still accepted the task of going into South Lodge, even when she was offered the chance to back out.’