The Lost

by Mari Hannah

  66

  ‘Mike 7003 to Control. I see smoke.’ Andrea was only half a mile from the humpback bridge. In the woods beyond were the telltale signs of a burning vehicle. She’d seen enough to know what one looked like from a distance. ‘All units, the vehicle is in the clearing. I repeat, the vehicle is in the clearing. Tango 283, leave your position and travel south towards the woods. Tango 269, take a stationary position on the A696 Belsay junction with the B6524.’ She made a judgement call. ‘Offenders are likely to avoid minor roads and make their way south.’

  ‘Control Room to Mike 7003 and Mike 7125. Fire and ambulance have been deployed to your location. India 99, what’s your ETA?’

  ‘Nine-nine: ETA three minutes.’

  Stone was apoplectic. That whoosh was unmistakable, the most terrifying sound he’d ever heard, even worse than gunfire at close range. He hoped to God Frankie hadn’t heard him scream. The thought of losing her was too much to bear. She was a big noise. Throughout the Northumbria force, work would have ceased once the rumour mill began. Just as everyone would be rooting for her, they sure as hell would blame him if she came to harm. He’d taken it once. He wouldn’t survive it twice.

  Flames leapt high into the air. The Clio was well alight by the time Andrea reached the vehicle. One of the front windows was gone but there was no sign of Frankie in the front seat. If she was anywhere in the rear or the boot she’d had it. Andrea jumped out of her Traffic car. Lifting the tailgate, she grabbed her fire extinguisher and ran towards the burning vehicle, directing the spray into the interior, working her way around the car.

  She needed help.

  Where the hell was her crew?

  The heat was intense. It was impossible to get close. Smoke billowed from the interior. She was choking as it entered her lungs, her hands burning through leather gloves. She didn’t want to open the driver’s door to increase the draught to the vehicle, so she concentrated her efforts on directing the extinguisher in through the window.

  Her radio went: ‘Mike 7125 to Mike 7003: Do you have an update?’

  She did, but not the kind Stone was after. When he came upon the scene he’d be as devastated as she was. Frankie had hinted that he was still getting over a trauma of some kind in London. Then he’d lost Luke. She didn’t want to be the one to tell him that Frankie might have perished in a fire. He’d see for himself just as soon as he got there.

  A sob left Andrea’s throat as she continued to work her way round the car. They both loved Frankie so much. Anyone who knew her felt the same. Ignoring his request, she worked fast. She ran around the other side of the vehicle. The wind was against her, blowing flames in her direction, forcing her to back off. Thick smoke stung her eyes. She squirted the extinguisher until it ran out. Like pissing on a forest fire, it had little effect.

  What would she tell Rae?

  More bodies arrived, including Stone. Outwardly he was calm. Internally, she knew he was broken. The new personnel worked together, used their own equipment to extinguish the flames. They were all aware of the dangers of the job. Coppers’ lives turned on a sixpence; one minute they could be having a normal day, the next staring disaster in the face. In Frankie’s case, examining Justine’s car, then God knows what, all hell breaking loose as police vehicles set off to find her. There was nothing more they could do but await the arrival of the fire crew.

  Andrea was standing beside her Traffic car, speaking into her radio. David was some way off. In a moment of heartbreak and sorrow, their eyes met across the clearing. He walked towards her, put his arms around her and gave her a hug.

  She pulled away, her attention on the burning car. ‘The passenger door was open, David.’

  He looked towards the woods, then at Andrea. ‘You think she got out?’

  She couldn’t answer right off. ‘I won’t accept that she didn’t. All I’m saying is, it’s possible. I’ve seen many burnt-out vehicles. Offenders usually strike a match, hoy it in and leg it. The driver’s door was shut. That would suggest to me that whoever drove her here was trying to make it difficult for her to get out in time. There’s only one reason why the passenger door would be open—’

  ‘Unless it blew out in the explosion.’ Stone wiped the sweat from his face, leaving a smutty mark under his right eye. ‘Andrea, I spoke to Frankie. She was incapacitated, slurring her words, fading in and out of consciousness. Whether she’d been drugged or injured, I couldn’t say. I’m not sure she’d have the wherewithal or energy to get herself out of a two-door vehicle, never mind run clear of a burning car.’

  ‘Do not underestimate her!’

  ‘I’m not. All I’m saying is she may not have known the car was on fire.’

  ‘No! She got out until I say she didn’t.’ Andrea’s voice broke as her emotions got the better of her. She knew he was trying to make it easier for her and she’d thrown it right back in his face. Stone may not be able to see a way that Frankie could survive but he didn’t know her like she did.

  He’d gone quiet.

  ‘It’s not only the door.’ Andrea rammed home the message that there was hope. ‘Both front seats are folded forward. If Frankie was in the rear, she’d have found a way to yank the lever and open the door. If you’d met her old man, you’d know that she’s a chip off the old block. He’s like a freight train. If anything gets in his way, he mows it down. She’s an Oliver and proud of it. She’d fight tooth and nail to get out of there. Stop dragging your feet. What are you waiting for?’

  Another glance towards the woods.

  Stone nodded. ‘Get your crew on it.’

  As Andrea issued the order, David took a deep breath. If there was any chance that Frankie was alive he’d use every tool at his disposal to look for her, including the dog section. He lifted his radio and pushed the transmit button. ‘Mike 7125 to Control: I’d like a Delta vehicle ASAP. Ditto, a search team for the woods. India 99, there’s a possibility that the officer may have escaped the vehicle.’

  ‘Copy that.’

  ‘Search the near area first. She’s can’t have got far.’

  ‘Nine nine: Affirmative.’

  An RRV arrived on scene with a paramedic inside. Such Rapid Response Vehicles were used to get medical assistance to a casualty when an ambulance might take longer. There was no casualty to treat yet and Stone asked him to stand by for further instructions.

  A fire tender arrived on scene.

  Stone felt the blood drain from his face as men and women piled out wearing high-viz jackets. They needed no instruction. They knew exactly what to do. The DI looked up at the force helicopter circling overhead. It hovered over the location, then banked right, the pilot assessing the situation from the air. Using daylight imaging, he’d be looking for a heat source in the surrounding woods, downloading footage from his camera on to digital flash cards, transmitting encrypted images on to monitors within the police command centre.

  He went around again.

  A few minutes later, David’s radio came to life.

  ‘Nine nine: I have a stationary heat source NE of your location, down a slight ravine, thirty metres.’ Stone and Andrea legged it in the general direction, guided by their colleague in the air. ‘Officers on the ground, turn one degree left . . . Straight ahead . . . Keep going . . . Nearly there . . . Stop, stop . . . It should be right in front of you now.’

  67

  The journey to the A & E department of Northumbria’s specialist emergency care hospital had taken longer than Stone could ever have imagined. Andrea led the convoy, paving the way for the ambulance with her own blues and twos, Stone following close behind, the three vehicles weaving in and out of traffic, compelling others to give way. He’d tried not to visualise what was going on inside the emergency vehicle. He hadn’t wanted to know.

  Frankie was unconscious when found, face down on the ground in an awkward position. Her blood-soaked hair was t
he first thing Stone and Andrea noticed as they were guided by the eye in the sky. At first, they thought she was dead. David had rushed to feel for a pulse, screaming into his radio to summon the paramedic.

  Frankie had lost a lot of blood and was in bad shape, cuts to both hands and face, clothing soaked with petrol, no serious burns visible. Either she’d collapsed on the edge of the ravine and fallen, rolling down the bank over rough ground, landing in the brambles that caused those injuries, or she’d hurled herself into the valley and managed, somehow, to cover herself up. If Stone had been a betting man, he’d have guessed the latter.

  She was quite well hidden.

  Justine Segal hadn’t been so fortunate. Mason, the Home Office pathologist, was clear on that score. He’d told the Murder Investigation Team that she’d have been incapacitated, unable to move, much less crawl into the middle of the road unaided. The fact that Frankie had escaped a burning vehicle was an indication that she was less severely injured.

  Stone willed it to be so.

  He’d abandoned his car outside A & E and looked on as she was lifted from the ambulance on a stretcher by a man and a woman dressed in green. There were obvious signs that she’d been worked on in transit: an oxygen mask, wires attached, a pulse monitor, wet clothing cut loose. When paramedics took her inside, Stone caught a strong whiff of petrol. It was the complexity of her injury that bothered him the most. The triage team had been alerted to receive her and were already on standby as paramedics crashed through the door to the treatment room, passing on vital information before handing over her care. Stone hadn’t seen her since.

  What seemed like hours later, the neurologist appeared, a man of around fifty with a square face, white hair and half-rim pewter metal-framed specs. His expression gave nothing away as he introduced himself to the police officers.

  ‘I’ve sent her for a brain scan,’ he said. ‘A precaution.’

  Stone nodded, irritated by the lack of information. ‘Precaution’ was a euphemism for something far more serious in his experience, a one-size-fits-all phrase used by members of the medical profession when they had nothing positive to say. The consultant would be checking for signs of acute subdural haematoma or skull fracture, serious conditions that could kill Frankie if left untreated. At best, they would find no such deadly condition and she’d recover without the need for surgery, at worst there could be permanent brain damage.

  The next few hours were critical.

  David had many questions – why she hadn’t woken up top of his list. He didn’t delay the doctor. He wanted him to get on with the job of treating Frankie. The DI told himself not to panic. This state-of-the-art hospital had emergency care specialists on duty twenty-four hours a day. She’d be monitored round the clock.

  The relationship between police and medical services had always been positive. Officers were often called in to lend a hand if a patient, their associates or family got abusive or violent. It happened more often than people might think. Stress did things to people. There would be no preferential treatment. Even so, Stone and Andrea had been ushered into an empty staff room to await news, a courtesy afforded to them to ensure that they weren’t bothered by the public at such a difficult time. Everyone liked to chat to a copper in uniform, kids particularly, and while that was an everyday occurrence for Andrea, a fact of life for every Traffic cop, today it was the last thing she needed. An officer was down. A family member. Today, she craved the space to worry like everyone else and so did David.

  A nurse arrived with coffee – much needed. The DI thanked her and she left them. Andrea was beside herself. She seemed not to notice that anyone had entered or left the room. Out in the Northumberland woods, her police training had taken over. She’d done what she had to do, tackling the torched car without fear for her own mortality. Here in the hospital, where Frankie’s life hung in the balance, the gravity of the situation was beginning to dawn.

  Sensing his gaze, Andrea looked up, face blackened with smoke, high-viz jacket melted in places, her uniform trousers filthy. She took out her phone, called Control and then Frankie’s dad, explaining what had happened, telling him that a vehicle was on its way to transport him to the hospital. She was in tears when she ended the call.

  ‘She’s in the best of hands,’ David said.

  A solemn nod was all he got in return.

  ‘She’s tough, like her dad, like you.’ He was trying to lift her. It hadn’t worked. Right now, they were in a place no member of the police family ever wanted to be. Andrea didn’t feel tough or brave and neither did he. They both felt vulnerable and scared. He pointed to a chair. ‘She’ll be a while. Why don’t you take the weight off? I have a few calls to make.’

  He had to do something . . .

  Andrea sat down to wait, elbows on knees, head in hands.

  David took his phone out and dialled Mitchell’s number. The phone rang out in his back pocket. He swore under his breath. Stupid mistake. Telling himself to focus, he dialled again.

  ‘DS Abbott.’

  ‘Dick, it’s me.’

  ‘How is she?’ There was urgency in the detective sergeant’s voice.

  Stone cleared his throat. He wouldn’t lie. He’d called Dick on the way to the hospital to say that she was alive and on route to Cramlington where the major trauma unit was situated. The Murder Investigation Team would have been willing her on. Cut one police officer and the whole force bled.

  ‘She hasn’t regained consciousness,’ Stone said. ‘She’s undergoing tests. I’ve not seen her yet. I’m awaiting the all-clear from the consultant. I don’t know what good it will do. Maybe if I regurgitate her daft rulebook, she’ll wake the fuck up.’ He paused for long enough for Dick to process the information to pass on to the team. ‘Did you call Parker?’

  ‘Yeah, no answer on the landline.’

  ‘And his mobile?’

  ‘Ditto. He was asleep in the garden, his missus in the swimming pool when I paid them a visit. They were oblivious to any police activity.’

  ‘That’s bollocks. The whole force is out there, including India 99.’

  ‘I was up there sharpish, boss. Their phones were in the house, switched on, I checked. No recent calls.’

  ‘They both saw Frankie earlier in the day,’ Stone said. ‘They were unaware that she’d returned?’

  ‘So they say,’ Abbott paused. ‘Mind you, if she was sniffing around Justine’s car, maybe she wanted a silent entry.’

  ‘Maybe . . . I wish she’d told me. She should never have gone out there single-crewed.’

  ‘That’s not her style, guv. I asked for urgent triangulation from EE. They did it straight away. If Parker moved from the house, he left his device behind.’

  ‘Maybe he took Alex’s phone.’

  ‘No, both phones were stationary. There’s no CCTV up there so it looks like we’re screwed. I sent Mitch out to interview Curtis and shake him up a bit. The guy may have a certain gravitas but I never liked the smarmy bastard. Interestingly, he was home alone, just out of the shower. I’m now waiting on his service provider.’

  ‘OK, I’ll call in later.’

  ‘Boss?’

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘Give Frankie our best when she wakes up. Tell her to get her arse back to work. I’m sick of picking up the slack.’

  ‘I will.’ Stone hung up.

  Dick was a pro, trying his best to stay upbeat. The jury was out on Frankie’s condition, David’s mind full of words he didn’t want to acknowledge: craniotomy, infection, complications. He tried to shake them off but they kept coming, tormenting him. He’d been told that it was possible for a head injury to be a slow burn, blood compressing brain tissue, raising intracranial pressure, fatal in 50 per cent of cases. A large proportion of victims never survived the journey to hospital.

  Frankie had . . .

  So far so good.

&nb
sp; ‘David? Are you OK?’

  He looked at Andrea, almost without seeing her, suddenly conscious of his own vulnerability. For a moment, he’d forgotten she was in the room. He was too slow to cover his distress. She was on her feet, staring at him, waiting for a response. He was frozen in a time warp, unable to shake himself free. Andrea moved towards him. She reached out a hand and then withdrew it as if touching him might make him crumple.

  ‘You’ve been here before, haven’t you?’ she said.

  He blew out a breath. ‘Not exactly . . .’

  She apologised. ‘I shouldn’t have asked.’

  ‘It’s fine.’ It wasn’t. Stone was felled by the sadness all over again. He was in that room staring into the face of hell. He thought he was on top of it; and he was, until he’d set eyes on Alex Parker. The likeness was striking. Every time he looked at her, the sadness hit him like a giant wave, rendering him ineffectual. Frankie had propped him up, covered his back – that was the kind of person she was – and he’d given her no explanation. He felt unworthy.

  ‘A colleague?’ Andrea had to know.

  He nodded his answer.

  ‘And if Frankie doesn’t make it, you’ll feel guilty for the rest of your life, is that it? We’re police, David. Sometimes we get hurt. It comes with the territory. Frankie understands that. What happened to her is not your fault.’

  He couldn’t speak.

  ‘My God! What the fuck happened in London?’

  ‘My colleague. Partner. She died.’

  ‘Jesus!’ Andrea was gutted. ‘I’m so sorry.’

  David didn’t want to talk about it. He walked to the window and looked out, the past slowly subsiding, his thoughts returning to the present. He had a double murder and an attempted murder to solve. He was hoping that Frankie might have seen her attacker and have vital information to give. She was at risk if the offender found out she was alive. He’d deployed two officers to stay with her round the clock. These guys didn’t need to work out. They were big buggers. Wherever Frankie went, they went too. Her clothing had been removed and retained for forensic examination. He had no doubt that, if the opportunity arose, she’d have tried to get DNA from the person who’d tried to kill her.