Cherringham--Snowblind

by Neil Richards

  Sarah squeezed Ania’s hand. “You can trust him … like you’ve trusted me. We will need to do something about Craig, and we can try to do it in a way that doesn’t hurt you.”

  Though Sarah wasn’t exactly sure how that could be done.

  But Ania nodded. “Yes. I will trust you.”

  And at that moment, Sarah heard steps behind them, someone clearing their throat.

  How long had the person been there?

  She turned to see Reverend Hewitt walk in. When he came abreast of the back pew, he turned and nodded to the two of them.

  “Everything all right, Sarah … Ania …?”

  So he knew the nurse as well.

  Sarah forced a smile. “Yes, Reverend. Just talking.”

  The vicar nodded, obviously guessing that the two women huddled at the back weren’t “just talking”.

  “If there’s anything I can do, do let me know.”

  Sarah nodded. Probably someone else they could both trust. But for now:

  “Thank you, Reverend.”

  And he continued walking to the front of the church.

  “I must get back,” Ania said.

  “You okay?” Sarah said.

  Ania nodded. “I feel better — having told you.”

  Sarah gave her shoulders another squeeze. She just hoped that the nurse’s trust wasn’t misplaced.

  “I should get back as well — but first …”

  She took out a pen and a scrap of paper from her purse and wrote down her mobile number.

  ‘If you need to talk again, my phone.”

  And Ania smiled. “Thank you.”

  And then — leaving Reverend Hewitt up front, now kneeling in prayer — they walked out of the dark church to the bright snow-covered grounds outside.

  14. A Night at Home

  “Okay, Jack — can you see this?”

  Sarah had no trouble finding Craig on Facebook. He hadn’t bothered to make his photos and posts for “friends only” so she didn’t have to do anything special.

  With Daniel and Chloe both busy with school projects and homework — all delayed due to fun in the snow — she had called Jack.

  After she’d updated him about her meeting with Ania, she suggested that they both look online, into the life of their new “friend”, Craig.

  “Brand new Subaru Forester. Nice wheels for a Care Assistant.”

  “Right, Jack — and look at the pictures. Those places, high-end restaurants in London, a few shots from that club Vertigo,”

  “Never been myself …”

  She laughed at that.

  The thought of Jack in a London club?

  Talk about a fish out of water.

  “Okay,” she said. “Craig obviously has cash. He supposedly lives out off the main road in a caravan park. But I don’t know — looks like he has an apartment in the city.”

  “Big HDTV. Nice. I think those windows overlook the river. Not too shabby.”

  “And his Facebook friends? Tough looking crowd. Some of them asking when he’s ‘next in town’, looking forward to ‘getting connected’. Look another: ‘can’t wait for my main man’. What does that all sound like to you?”

  “That Craig is one popular guy — and I’m guessing that his popularity is due to the drugs he ferries from Broadmead to London.”

  “Jack — I had another thought.”

  “Go on.”

  “It’s bad enough if he skims drugs out of the home’s supply. But if he’s taking from the patients then that’s dangerous. They actually need those drugs. I mean, he could have hurt some of those old people.”

  “Or will sooner or later.”

  “What do we do?”

  “Think … well, thinking two things. Right now, all we really have is what Ania told you.”

  “I know.”

  “And we’d both like to protect her. She’s just another victim. So we need more. And I think there’s only one way to get it.”

  “Which is?”

  “I need to break in. Really give the place a look over. See where he might hide the drugs, get a look at how they monitor who takes what, get into Woods’ office. Real evidence, so we can nail Craig, and not Ania.”

  “And this isn’t about Archy anymore?”

  Jack hesitated.

  Jack’s thinking time. Whenever he didn’t answer right away, she knew he was looking at all the facts, all the theories before he answered.

  It was a moment she had grown to look forward to.

  “Don’t be so sure. Archy and Reg’s escape could still have been an accident — but we have that CCTV recording, Craig and someone. Then, Reg, out there in the snow with Archy. How does that all fit together?”

  “And the answer is inside Broadmead Grange?”

  “Yup — I’m going to sneak in tonight, and—”

  “No.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Sarah had to figure that Jack had also grown to understand how she “worked”, how she thought.

  So — no surprise ahead.

  “We’re going to break in. Together.”

  “I don’t know, Sarah. Breaking-in is illegal, might be best—”

  “Jack — better to have another pair of eyes, if only to keep watch in case someone comes by. The two of us in there — we can make quick work of it.”

  Then she had the thought it wasn’t just the legality of it that concerned Jack.

  If Craig was dealing, for big bucks, then who knows what he’d do to stay safe?

  “Jack, we can be careful. But we’re in this together, right?”

  The two amigos.

  Another pause.

  “Okay, you got it, Miss Marple. Break-in at Broadmead it is, for the two of us. Dress warm, dress in black. The Sprite is good to go, so I’ll swing by and pick you up.”

  “Great.”

  Sarah could feel her heart thumping.

  “I’ll make sure the kids are settled, noses in books; they’ve got school tomorrow.”

  Jack laughed. “Bet they’re thrilled. See you in ten.”

  “See you soon.”

  Sarah ended the call and checked her battery. Seventy per cent. Should be enough. And she went to her bedroom to look for the darkest and warmest clothes she could find.

  Driving out to Broadmead, Sarah saw a big black plastic bag in the back behind the seats. A strong smell came from the bag.

  “Laundry?”

  “What? Oh, that. The clothes they found, near the Ploughman’s.”

  “That smell — it’s aftershave.”

  “Yeah, strong.”

  “No. I mean, I know that smell. In Broadmead yesterday — I smelled it on Reg. When I talked to him in the chapel.”

  He turned to her. “Interesting …”

  Sarah reached back and pulled out a pair of thermal leggings from the bag.

  “Thermal leggings. I don’t understand it.”

  “If they’re Reg’s, then I don’t either.”

  “Want a deeper sniff?”

  Jack laughed. “No, I believe you.”

  She pulled another article from the plastic bag. A matching thermal shirt.

  “Expensive stuff.”

  “Well, if it is Reg’s … Strange.” Jack slowed the car. “Okay, going to park ahead.”

  Jack pulled the Sprite over to the side where cars could be off the road, nearly hidden in the deep banks of ploughed snow.

  Lights off, they got out of the sports car.

  It had started to snow again, and a stiff breeze sent swirls of the now crystalline stuff dancing around Jack.

  With the car hidden, he led the way on a snowy path, crouch-walking closer to Broadmead.

  Jack had done this kind of thing many times before.

  Sneaking up to a Red Hook warehouse filled with drugs and guns, guarded by an army of thugs trained in Colombia.

  Or zeroing in on a mob boss’s quiet street in Queens, a summer night, but with the Don’s bodyguards on the lookout … as a s
pecially trained team under Jack circled the place.

  So — while this was certainly different, it wasn’t new.

  But for Sarah?

  And yet, when he looked back, her eyes catching her scant light, black ski trousers, dark blue skull cap, she looked like she could be an undercover cop pulling off a raid in NYC.

  Maybe she had missed her calling!

  She came closer to Jack; both of them crouched low behind a scraggly bush that — if in the light — wouldn’t give them much cover.

  But the outside lighting of the home hadn’t been upgraded, and the few giant outside floods only cast pale milky pools just around the periphery of the gothic building.

  “What do you think?” Sarah whispered.

  Jack looked at the building.

  They squatted to the right of the entrance, with a clear view of the car park. Most of it had been ploughed, and with four … five cars parked there, Jack guessed that tonight more workers would be on duty.

  “Won’t be so quiet in there this time. Was hoping the place would still be on skeleton staff.”

  “How about that back entrance? The one you saw on the CCTV?”

  “Right. Good idea. Opening and shutting that door didn’t trigger any alarms. Course, we’ll be caught on the camera. But if we find what I think we will find, none of that will matter.”

  “We’ll find it,” Sarah said.

  Amazing confidence.

  Jack — he wasn’t so sure.

  Someone like Craig could be good at covering his tracks.

  And just as he thought that, the front door of Broadmead Grange opened and Craig himself emerged. Jack watched as the young care worker, dressed just in a T-shirt and jeans, pinged a key fob, hurried over to a big black SUV and opened the trunk.

  “Waddya know,” said Jack quietly. “Mr. Subaru himself.”

  “Looks like he’s thirsty,” whispered Sarah.

  Jack peered through the gently falling snow. Craig had retrieved a bottle of what looked like Scotch from the car. He slammed the trunk shut and headed back inside.

  Jack waited till Craig had gone in and the drive was quiet again.

  “Ready?” he said, turning to her. “Jack — what do we do is someone spots us?”

  He nodded. “Hope it’s Ania? And if it’s someone else, well … I imagine sometimes people come here to see their relatives even after closing hours.”

  “Got it. Act natural. Just here visiting.”

  He grinned at that. If only it was that easy …

  “You got it. Set?”

  “Yup. My knees are going to feel this in the morning.”

  “Tell me about it …”

  And Jack, staying low, away from the light, headed right, then circled to the back, where he hoped that they could get inside Broadmead Grange … and it would reveal all its secrets.

  15. A Surprising Discovery

  Sarah watched Jack fish out a thin piece of metal from a pocket of his bulky coat.

  She kept her head down. While she knew that they were now on camera, that was no reason to make it easy to ID them. If anyone was watching the footage, they’d see this break-in but wouldn’t be able to see their faces.

  But Jack said that based on seeing the “security” operation and how cavalier Nurse Woods was about it, the video probably usually went unwatched.

  If not — they could expect to hear a siren screaming this way in minutes.

  Jack began working the piece of metal into the jam where the door met the frame.

  “Hmm,” he said.

  “Not working?”

  “Has a metal plate over the outside, makes getting to the bolt mechanism tricky.”

  “Impossible?”

  He looked back at her. “No. Tricky. Not impossible. There is a very subtle difference, Sarah.”

  So cold standing there. Despite layers of clothes and the hat, the steady wind seemed to find its way to bare skin.

  Maybe — she thought — they’d be stuck here, adventure over.

  Though, knowing Jack …

  “Okay — let me try something different.”

  She watched him go above the lock mechanism with the thin metal piece, then down, slipping past the faceplate protecting the bolt.

  “Okay, good.”

  Jack’s gloved hand wobbled back and forth, until she heard metal scratching on metal. It was like he was fishing — and just now had caught something.

  A different clicking noise, and suddenly, as if someone was inviting them in, the door popped open a fraction of an inch.

  For a moment, Sarah thought that — God! — someone had come back here, for a smoke, or to leave, and stumbled upon them.

  But Jack pulled the unlocked door open another inch or so. Looked in.

  “All clear. Stay close. Just in case.”

  She had no intention of doing otherwise.

  And then Jack fully opened the door, and they walked inside Broadmead, their entire break-in caught on camera.

  Sarah stuck close to Jack as they entered a dark hall. Where were they in the building?

  She didn’t have a clue.

  There seemed to be rooms ahead, doors closed. Empty maybe — or housing sleeping residents.

  “Pretty spooky,” she whispered.

  Jack didn’t answer, but he turned, nodded. A small smile.

  Right, she thought. Best we stay quiet.

  Until she saw a man come out of a room, backlit by the bedroom light, flannel robe, slippers, hair shooting off the top of his head as though he’d touched an electrical socket.

  “Oh, are you here for the party?”

  Jack stopped.

  They could keep walking, Sarah guessed. But even someone with dementia could trigger an alarm.

  “Why, yes,” Jack said quietly.

  “I do hope they have those nice cakes.”

  Jack nodded, another smile to Sarah.

  “You know the ones?”

  “Sure,” Jack said.

  “Chocolate sponge and white frosting. Yes!”

  Then the old man turned and looked away, his face — confused now — catching some of the light spilling from his room.

  “Or is it … the other way around? White cake, and chocolate … chocolate …”

  Jack gave the man a pat on the shoulder. “We’ll make sure that we have both.”

  Big smile and the man turned back to his room, happy that he had imaginary cakes from an imaginary party to look forward to.

  And when the hallway was empty, they continued on.

  Until they saw Wood’s office ahead, the hall lighting again low, probably to remind the residents to stay in their rooms.

  Then a door opened — a supply room, and backing out …

  Ania.

  She turned and saw Jack and Sarah. Jack quickly put his hand to his lips. Even at this distance, Ania looked worried. But she nodded, turned away and hurried down the corridor.

  Leaving the way to Woods’ office clear.

  When they got to the office, Jack gave the doorknob a twist. Locked. But this door he had open in seconds.

  And Sarah followed him into the room, pulling the door shut behind them. For now, they were out of sight, with time to see what could be hidden here, hidden … and found.

  Sarah immediately went to the computer on Woods’ desk, while she saw Jack go to a stack of filing cabinets and crouch down.

  Each of us, she thought, about to dig into things in the way we know best.

  The computer came to life, and Sarah started to see how she could enter the home’s protected administrative site.

  “One of these days,” Jack said, “you’ll have to explain to me exactly how you do that. It’s a bit scary …”

  At the same moment, the lock on the bottom filing cabinet popped out and open.

  “And you’ll have to repay the favour by showing me how you do that.”

  “This? Piece of cake. All you need is a paper clip.”

  “Right. Anyone can do
it, hmm?” Sarah said grinning.

  Jack started rifling through the files.

  Sarah hit some keys, bypassing whatever encryption the site used, and then: “I’m in.”

  And it was all there, the names and histories of the residents, employee records, billing accounts.

  Nothing about drugs though.

  Maybe that was in a paper file, and Jack would find it.

  But she quickly brought up Archy’s case history.

  The records showed that the old guy had years of hospital stays, other homes, and the progress of his Alzheimer’s … severe and inevitable, until he ended up here, confused and wandering out into a blizzard.

  Then — something interesting.

  Old Archy did some time in Belmarsh prison. Didn’t say what he was in for — perhaps, those records were confidential, locked.

  But it looked like Archy hadn’t exactly been a choirboy.

  “Jack — take a look.”

  Holding a handful of manila folders, Jack walked over. “Archy’s an ex-con. Wow.”

  “Hard to believe …” said Sarah.

  “Even bad guys grow old, end up in homes,” said Jack.

  “Whatever he did — he paid for it in prison,” said Sarah.

  “Looks like he did a five-year stretch,” said Jack. “You got to do more than have your fingers in the till for that.”

  Then: “Can you get Reg’s record up?”

  “Sure.” She kept looking at Jack. “You think—?”

  Jack smiled. “Not sure what I think Sarah. But let’s see what Reg’s story is while we’re in.”

  Sarah turned back to the monitor, and searched for Reg’s details.

  “Here we go. And—”

  “What?”

  Jack leaned over her shoulder.

  “Archy’s records showed a long history of dealing with Alzheimer’s. But Reg? Months ago he went into Royal Derby Hospital for gall bladder surgery. No mention of anything else until then. But then notes here about sudden erratic behaviour, see … ‘signs of rapid onset dementia …’”

  “Rapid?”

  “Yes, and look: ‘patient’s solicitor requested that only Broadmead be considered for convalescent care’.”

  “Only Broadmead? I have to think there are better places than this house of horrors.”

  Sarah scrolled through the rest of the information on patient Reg’s file. The she stopped.