by Joy Ellis
‘Well, thanks for that, Doc, and good luck with your grass.’
‘I’ll keep you in the loop. Stay safe, Brit.’
Joseph stood up but as he did so his safe phone rang, so he flopped back in his chair. ‘Vinnie?’
‘Just thought I should warn you that Snipe will now be seeing sod all of Cloud Fen on his surveillance system. Best you know, just in case he decides to contact you.’ Vinnie gave a little snort. ‘Because if it was me, I’d be pissed as hell.’
Joseph considered that. ‘In which case, you should keep a careful watch yourself. He might decide to go out there and check out the damage.’
‘I doubt that very much. He’ll know that whoever disabled his eyes and ears would have done a good job on them. I’m betting he’ll move onto something else. Oh, and I’ll be out here for some while, setting up a bit of counter-surveillance and protection for you. Of course, I can’t stop him driving onto the marsh with a missile launcher, or poisoning your water supply, but other than sticking a platoon of squaddies on watch, it’s the best I can do.’ He paused for a moment, then added, ‘And when I’m through here I’ll be over to the nick to check out your backyard.’
‘That’s great, Vinnie. I’ll tell the boss.’
‘Ah, now, speaking of your DI . . .’ Vinnie hesitated for a moment. ‘Is she married, Bunny?’
Joseph stiffened. ‘Divorced, why?’
‘So is she . . . ? Well, is she seeing anyone?’
Joseph tightened his grip on the phone. ‘Look, mate, I wouldn’t suggest that you . . .’
‘Oh, say no more! Sorry, I wouldn’t tread on your toes, you know that.’
‘No, Vinnie, you’ve got it wrong. It’s not like that, we’re not . . .’
‘Yeah, yeah.’ Vinnie laughed. ‘A great-looking woman like that, and you do still have a pulse, don’t you?’
‘Honestly, Vinnie, it’s just that she’s been through a lot recently, that’s all, and well . . . it’s complicated,’ he added lamely.
‘What a shame this isn’t a video call, cos I’m pretty certain, Bunny Easter, that you’re turning red.’
Joseph absentmindedly touched a warm cheek and silently cursed his friend. ‘Look, I’ve got to go, Vinnie. Ring me when you’re through on the Fen and we’ll meet somewhere out of Snipe’s earshot.’
‘Said he, neatly changing the subject.’ Vinnie chuckled. ‘But yeah, I’ll ring. Bye.’
Feeling acutely uncomfortable, but having no idea why, Joseph walked across to Nikki’s office and knocked on the door. ‘How’s Dave?’
‘Still with the super, who’s already contacted the cybercrime boys. At least Dave knows that no one is suspecting him of running up debts. Poor guy has been worrying himself sick all night.’ Nikki sank down onto her chair. ‘You know what Dave is like with money.’
‘Yes, I do.’ He knew that Dave had been brought up in a family with very little money to spare, and he was very careful with it. ‘Snipe knows exactly where to hit us so that it hurts.’
‘And he’s causing chaos too.’ Nikki gently rubbed her temples with her middle fingers. ‘I’m beginning to wonder if that is all part of the plan. I mean, look at us! Dave is tearing his hair out trying to salvage his life savings, Cat is in the hospital and Niall is ferrying your daughter to bloody Scotland. Talk about divide and conquer.’
‘You missed out Yvonne. She’s yomping around the Fen looking for our retired Sergeant Brian Faulkner.’
‘Ah, she’s got a trace on him?’
‘Most likely. She’s off on one of her famous hunches.’
‘Excellent. So what do we do now?’
He told her briefly what both Liam and Vinnie had passed on for her attention, then added, ‘and I’ve had a call from Cat. She was excited about something she’s discovered regarding Operation Windmill.’
‘And she didn’t say more?’
‘Wants to see me in person.’
‘Then go. I’ll use the time to make a surprise call on Jeremy Bow.’
Joseph immediately looked worried. ‘Alone? With his past history? Is that wise?’
‘Don’t worry. As everyone else is committed elsewhere, I’ll take a uniform. Bow still lives in Greenborough, so I won’t be gone long.’ She pulled her jacket from the back of her chair. ‘You go see Cat, and we’ll tie up back here in an hour, okay?’
He reluctantly agreed. As he got to the door, she called out, ‘Have you heard from Tamsin?’
He nodded. ‘She sounded in good form now she’s on the road and heading north.’
Nikki crossed her fingers and held them up. ‘She’ll be fine, Joseph. At least she’s out of here and far away from Greenborough.’
* * *
When the door of her room opened and the gowned figure of Joseph stepped inside, Cat gave an audible sigh of relief. With everything that was going on, she had not been sure he would make it.
‘Sarge! I’m so pleased to see you. Sit down.’
Joseph pulled a chair closer to the bed and flopped into it. ‘Sorry, but this is a really swift visit. So, how are you doing?’
‘Let’s skip the pleasantries. We’ll talk about me when you have more time.’ She gathered up a small sheaf of papers and turned the laptop around so that Joseph could see it. ‘I need you to read this and tell me what you make of it.’
Joseph read silently, then drew in a long breath and said, ‘Well, I’m damned! So this was not the first attempt on Magda’s life?’
‘Nope. According to some very interesting accounts that I’ve dug up from some of the far reaches of the Internet, this was actually the third.’
‘So someone really wanted her dead, didn’t they?’
Cat nodded and, using her notes, logged in to a different site. ‘And that “someone,” though never named or even hinted at by the Dutch police, has been thrown around in speculation by a lot of interested parties.’ She tapped on the screen. ‘Look at this online conversation from an underground anti-police chatroom. It’s translated’
Joseph read out loud.
‘Wolfdog: ‘If the authorities really want to know, they should look closer to home.’
Bliksem: ‘Blood close?’
Wolfdog: ‘Of course. It’s been in plain sight for years. They just interpret what they know incorrectly.’
‘Bliksem: ‘I’m thinking revenge? Retribution? Compensation?’ Joseph faltered as he read that last word, then shakily finished Wolfdog’s final comment.
‘Wolfdog: ‘Got it in one, my friend. Who else?’
He looked at her, his head to one side.
‘Sorry to just throw that at you, Sarge. I’ve had longer than you to work it out. And based on what I surmise, I’ve come up with some very interesting material.’ Though Cat knew she shouldn’t take up too much of his time, she was certain that she had nailed Operation Windmill once and for all.
‘Surely these sites aren’t your average search engines? You didn’t get that from Google, did you?’ Joseph stared at the site name — Judicium Keus — and decided that it must mean some sort of rough justice.
‘Stuart and Travis from IT use them all the time. Travis reckons that if you know where to look, you don’t need the PNC.’
‘Apparently not.’ Joseph raised an eyebrow in surprise, then pushed the laptop back to her. ‘So, tell me what you discovered.’
‘It’s all connected to the stalker. If she’d only realised it, Magda had little to fear from him. He simply idolised her. There was someone else out there who was far more dangerous.’ She paused for effect, then remembered the sarge’s tight time schedule. ‘Remember that Magda was not the only one damaged by the stalker?’
Joseph’s eyes narrowed. ‘The cousin? The one who was actually attacked by the love-struck student?’
‘Absolutely. The cousin, Daan. I’ve checked out what injuries he sustained, and believe me, they were life-changing. His back was broken and he had a severe head trauma.’
‘But he’s still alive?’
‘Oh yes, and although he is disabled, he holds a powerful position in a major agricultural company.’
‘Hellecroppen? Magda’s company?’
‘No, their sister company, owned and managed by Daan’s father’s side of the family.’
Joseph closed his eyes and tried to follow what she was saying.
‘Listen, Sarge, you need to read some of this stuff, but the bottom line is this, okay?’ Cat leaned forward closer to Joseph. ‘Daan hated Magda for what happened to him. She wasn’t the only bright light in that family.’ Her voice became more urgent. ‘Daan Hellekamp was the real genius, but together with the unbelievably clever Magda, he was heading for great things — prizes, awards, money. Lots and lots of money — and fame. He was good-looking and very fit, in a sporty way I mean. At least, until Magda’s lovelorn disciple almost killed him.’
‘Why blame Magda? It wasn’t her fault, surely?’
‘Well, she was indirectly the cause, and I did say he’d suffered a head injury. I can’t find the exact details, but it’s suggested that it had a considerable effect on his brain. It certainly didn’t mess up his high intelligence, but it could have screwed up his emotional side.’
‘Phew!’ Joseph sat back and looked in awe at her. ‘That’s amazing!’
‘Not bad for a night’s work with limited resources.’ She tried a painful and somewhat awkward grin. ‘But Travis needs to take a little of the praise for providing me with such unconventional search sites.’ She shifted around uncomfortably as the pain began to nag at her leg. ‘One more thing. I think I know about Magda’s secret Internet “friend,” the one who was “helping” her with her big new discovery? It was Daan, contacting her under a false name. He bounced his IP address to make it look as if the messages were coming from England, when they actually originated in Holland. He knows as much, maybe more, about agro-engineering as she did. I reckon he fed her titbits about new innovations to hold her attention and gain her trust.’
‘Of course! And he knew all about her phobias, so disguising himself via the Internet would have been perfect.’ His face darkened. ‘But why?’
‘To ensure that she would be at the Waterside Quay apartment, waiting patiently for him to contact her, at the exact time when . . .’ She gave him a sad smile. ‘When the killer came to call.’
‘So after two failures, he invested in the best executioner that money could buy. Aaron Keller. He hated her that much?’
‘That’s how I see it.’
‘You little beauty!’ He grasped her arm and squeezed it. ‘The boss is going to be so pleased!’ He stood up. ‘Can I take your notes, so I can get this confirmed formally?’
‘Be my guest.’ She handed him the relevant papers. ‘Did you bring those notebooks that I asked for? I’ve decided that I can use those sites to delve into a lot of things that are still unanswered on other cases too.’
Joseph passed her a plastic bag. ‘From Sheila Robbins. She sends her love and says whatever you need in the way of stationery, just shout, okay?’
‘She couldn’t cough up with a printer, could she?’
‘Don’t push your luck, Detective.’ He leant forward and kissed her gently on the cheek, then turned to leave. ‘I’ll be back ASAP.’ He stopped at the door. ‘Well done, kiddo! Now, we can put all our energies into finding out who hurt you.’
‘Why do you think I did it?’ She fought back tears. ‘Only not for me. For Danny Wilshire and his little kid, Connor.’
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
As the two speeding squad cars made their way towards Silent Fen, Yvonne Collins began to worry about what they might find. Organising the team and getting underway had hyped her up. Now, sitting in the car looking out over miles and miles of flat crop fields the adrenalin drained, leaving her jittery.
Silent Fen had a bit of a reputation. Nothing too spooky, but the place was strange. Which was the best word Yvonne could come up with. It was different from Cloud Fen in a way she could never quite explain. They were both remote spots with no proper village to speak of, just a scattering of isolated homes and small farms. But Silent Fen always seemed somehow lifeless, whereas the place where DI Galena and Sergeant Easter lived was brimming with nature — waterfowl, skylarks, butterflies and hares. Yvonne was sure that those creatures must live on Silent Fen too, you just never seemed to see them.
‘Along the next road on the right, then take the lane signposted Dredger’s Quay.’
She hoped she was right. Everything pointed to this place being where the retired policeman lived. She’d gone through his file, and she knew that when he left the force, more than anything he had craved anonymity and peace. The bad case had been his last, and she suspected that, had he lived in town, it would have haunted him every waking hour and every sleepless night. Silent Fen, his mother’s old home, with no fast roads, no drunken boy racers and no school buses, would suit him perfectly.
As the officer driving carefully manoeuvred the car onto the track that Yvonne had directed him to, she felt herself tense up. She had described Silent Fen as strange, and that was exactly how she felt. Today, she was not “one of the boys,” there was no Niall beside her. Most of all there was no uniform, and it felt all wrong. For the first time she realised exactly why she had never had a hankering for a position in CID. She knew she had the brain for it, but she didn’t have the heart. There was nothing Yvonne liked more than walking into a bad situation and diffusing it. She was a doer, an organiser, a visionary in a stab-proof vest. She could take one look at an ugly crowd and instantly work out the logistics of speedy dispersal. She knew which drunks to bang up, and which ones to get off the streets and home to their family. She knew the street kids and what made them tick. She could tell the really bad guys from the confused teens who had taken a wrong turn. Yvonne was more than happy to give DI Galena all the support she needed — after all it was a common cause. But as soon as it was over, she’d be back in her uniform where she could continue to do the job that she loved.
‘Never been down here — well, not that I can recall,’ said Jimbo, the driver.
‘You’d have no need to.’ Yvonne squinted into the sunlight blazing through the windscreen. ‘I’d never have seen the place either if it hadn’t been for the burnt-out vehicle.’ She pointed to an area surrounded by trees. ‘There it is, on the left.’
Both cars parked on the verge and Yvonne took in the scene. Further down the track was the sea-bank, a raised high path that edged the river, the marsh, the wetlands and the mud-flats. It stood in front of them, barring their way, its banks massed thickly with glowing yellow wild mustard flowers and the fluffy purple heads of thistles. A narrow track ran parallel with the bottom of the bank and led alongside a silted ditch to the now deserted Dredger’s Quay.
Yvonne looked at the dried mud of the track and saw that no one had driven down to the quay for some time. There were no tyre prints and the lane was so overgrown in places that it was almost impassable. It gave the impression of being disused and forgotten.
Which could also be said of Dredger’s Cottage.
‘Oh dear,’ said Jimbo quietly. ‘What a shithole.’
A feeling of intense sadness flooded over Yvonne. She had seen Brian Faulkner’s name on the wall at HQ, up on the honours board. He had been a brave man with an exemplary career behind him. It seemed all wrong that he should end up alone in such a depressing place.
The cottage sat in a hollow. The small area was enclosed by a thorny barricade of hawthorn hedging and a thick mat of stinging nettles and brambles. Tall spikes of reddish-brown sorrel fought with pink rosebay willow herb to add a touch of colour to the tangle of green.
‘And how exactly do we get in?’ asked one of the other officers.
‘Around to the right. There’s a broken-down gate.’
Yvonne looked at the desolate old building. It could have been pretty once, but that was a very long time ago. Weathered wood, peeling paintwork and crumbling brickwork was not pretty at all. Even
the small trees that held the cottage in a snug, protective embrace were scrubby and distorted, bent into arthritic shapes by the constant attentions of the east wind.
‘Okay, let’s see what we can find.’ Her voice was low. ‘And be careful. We have no idea what we’re walking into.’
The smell hit them as soon as they pushed open the unlocked door. But it wasn’t what Yvonne had expected. There was no cloying metallic stink of shed blood, merely that of rotting food and damp decay.
The sadness that she had felt earlier intensified as they moved from room to room and found nothing but the trappings of a frugal and lonely life. She saw a faded photo of a passing-out parade, proud young officers in immaculate uniforms, all that was left of years of loyal service. Tarnished memories, she thought sombrely. All destroyed by one bad shout.
It took only a few minutes to ascertain that Brian Faulkner was not there, and by the condition of the food in the larder, hadn’t been for a while.
Outside, the four police officers gave each other puzzled looks.
‘Odd,’ said Jimbo, staring around. ‘Where’s his car? You couldn’t live out here and not have a vehicle.’
Yvonne had already thought of that, but as there was no garage and no barn, she could only conclude that he had driven it away, or been driven away in it by person or persons unknown.
As the other three poked around the yard and the overgrown area that had once been a vegetable garden, Yvonne perched on the edge of the stone well and thought over what she had seen.
Nothing added up. Although the place was rundown, the duvet on his bed had been clean, so had the blanket in the plastic dog basket that sat under the bedroom window. But there had been no dog food in the cupboards and there was no collar or lead hanging on the hooks inside the back door. So where was the dog? Was it with him? And where was he?
She shook her head and tried to think. His blood had been used to send DI Galena a message, but there was no mutilated body here. And there was no blood anywhere in the cottage. She puffed out her cheeks. There was only one answer to this puzzle. Abduction.
