The Devil's Cliff Killings

by Simon McCleave

  ‘Thank you. We’ll have a word,’ Sian said as they turned to head back to the car.

  It was at that moment that she noticed a dark blue Land Rover parked in one of the farm buildings. More interestingly, there were two long wooden Canadian canoes strapped to a roof rack on top. There had been mention of the possibility that Rosie had been taken away via the river; although Forensics hadn’t come back with anything concrete, it was still worth looking into.

  ‘Are those your canoes, Steven?’ Sian said, pointing over to the Land Rover.

  ‘Yes. Bloody marvellous.’

  ‘Where do you use them?’ French asked.

  ‘Mainly off the coast. Down the Conwy Estuary and the Menai Strait. When it’s like this, we sometimes canoe over to Anglesey,’ Steven explained.

  ‘What about local rivers?’ Sian asked.

  ‘The Afon Gyrach is just over there, isn’t it?’ French asked, following Sian’s line of enquiry.

  ‘Once in a while. It’s a bit shallow this time of year.’

  ‘When was the last time you were on the Afon Gyrach?’ Sian asked.

  ‘Last summer, I think,’ Steven said.

  ‘Thank you,’ Sian said as she put her sunglasses back on and turned to go to the car.

  Even though SOCO had found nothing at the riverbank, Sian wondered whether if they took a closer look at those canoes, would they be able to match samples to show they had been down by the riverside?

  THREE DAYS, TWENTY-one hours

  It was late afternoon and Ruth and Merringer had been driving Kathy Wright back to Capelulo from Llancastell. Winding down the window, Ruth lit a ciggie and blew the smoke out in a long plume as she processed the case.

  ‘Do you mind?’ Kathy said from the backseat.

  ‘No, I don’t mind,’ Ruth replied. Merringer smiled at her little sarcastic comment.

  Neither of them had any time for Kathy Wright at the moment. She was a bent prison officer who was holding out on them and putting her daughter’s life at risk. Somehow, Kathy felt that her own liberty and safety were more important than finding her daughter.

  Listening to the radio news for a moment, Ruth’s ears pricked up.

  ‘Police in Edinburgh are investigating the rape and attempted murder of a woman in the city centre late last night. The police are appealing for witnesses with information to come forward. The unnamed twenty-three-year-old woman is said have been a visiting Canadian student working at Edinburgh University. Doctors say she is in a critical but stable condition.’

  Edinburgh? Kessler has been in Edinburgh. Ruth thought. Is that a coincidence? Raping and attacking women was Kessler’s MO.

  Ruth sat with these thoughts for a moment and made a decision to give Steven Flaherty a call later to see if there was any link or anything that might implicate Jurgen Kessler in the attack.

  Ruth knew that she needed to put her personal investigation to one side and concentrate on finding Rosie, but the similarities were hard to ignore. She needed to talk to Jason Wright and quiz him about his dark past. Could he be responsible for Rosie’s attack and disappearance? They had a volatile relationship and he had been violent with her in the past. His alibi for being in the pub was vague, as were his timings for Monday night. Did the historic alleged sexual assault on his own sister also suggest what sort of person he was?

  Ruth also wanted to revisit the Wrights’ house and see where the money had been hidden. She hoped there would be time to have another look around the crime scene up at Haddon Farm. The clues to what had happened to Rosie were there somewhere. Had Curtis Blake threatened Kathy so that she would continue to organise the smuggling of drugs and phones into Rhoswen? Had Kathy refused out of loyalty to Frank Cole? Cole was still in the hospital infirmary with his face slashed and battered. Was that a message for Kathy as to what would happen if she didn’t do what Blake told her?

  Having spoken to Nick, Ruth also had to factor in a line of enquiry that revolved around Rosie’s relationship with Hayley Collard. It seemed clear from Nick’s interview with Hayley that she was being used by a Romanian gang to groom vulnerable girls in North Wales. Once Hayley had befriended and coerced these girls, a Romanian criminal, Christian Vasilescu, would take them on a ferry from Holyhead to Dublin, where they would be intimidated into working as prostitutes. It was clear that Hayley had targeted Rosie and tried to groom her. Had Vasilescu travelled to Capelulo and abducted Rosie? Had Rosie struggled and been injured in the kidnapping? Was Rosie now in Dublin? Drake had put a call into the Gardaí in Ireland to see if they had any intel on Vasilescu.

  Parking outside Hazel Cottage, Ruth climbed out of the car and opened the rear door for Kathy Wright to get out. Merringer followed them inside.

  ‘Right, Kathy, sit yourself down. Constable Bennett is going to make us all a nice cup of tea to start with.’ Ruth smiled over at Bennett, who had already started to fill the kettle. ‘This is how it works. You are still under caution. You are confined to this house and its outside areas. You will have no contact with anyone except your immediate family. No use of the phone or the internet. If you attempt to leave this area or if you attempt to contact anyone, you will be arrested. You will then be taken to HMP Styal, where you will be housed on the vulnerable prisoners’ wing on bail. I think we all know how popular prison officers are in the general prison population. So, unless you want to pick glass and faeces out of your food and worry twenty-four hours a day whether someone is going to attack you, you’ll do as you’re told.’

  There was a moment as Ruth looked at Kathy. What is going on in her head?

  ‘Do you understand all that, Kathy?’ Ruth asked when Kathy made no answer.

  Kathy rolled her eyes. ‘Yeah.’

  ‘I’m going to need stuff like your car keys and the spares for starters,’ Ruth said.

  ‘Car key is behind the driver’s sun visor in case Jason needs to move it. Spare is in that drawer there.’

  Ruth indicated to Bennett to go retrieve it. She nodded.

  ‘Now I need to have a chat with your husband,’ Ruth said.

  ‘Ma’am, I saw him half an hour ago on a quad bike in the field opposite here,’ Bennett said.

  Ruth was more than a little surprised that Jason Wright had decided to go and do some work while his daughter was still missing.

  Bennett noticed Ruth’s expression. ‘Mr Wright said he couldn’t just sit here and drink tea all day. He wanted to keep busy,’ Bennett explained.

  Ruth signalled to Merringer that it was time to go. As they left through the open front door, she could smell lavender and freshly cut grass. Birds chirruped from up in the tree and the sun moved out from behind a cloud and warmed Ruth’s face. She closed her eyes just for a second to get a moment’s peace. How were people so devious, hostile and dysfunctional in a place like this? She had seen the families trapped in poverty and addiction on the crack-infested estates of South East London. Crime and hatred seemed almost understandable. They would have killed to live in a place like this. Perspective and gratitude were subjective things, she told herself.

  ‘She’s a cold fish,’ Merringer said of Kathy Wright as he closed the door behind them.

  ‘I don’t understand why she’s not telling us the truth,’ Ruth said as she walked down the garden path and out into the road.

  ‘Fear. Selfishness. Who knows, boss?’ Merringer replied, putting on his sunglasses. His phone buzzed with a text. He looked at it and smiled.

  ‘Good news?’ Ruth asked.

  ‘Yeah. We’ve got a place for Katie at St Mark’s now. It’s a big improvement from the previous school,’ Merringer explained.

  Ruth knew that Merringer’s youngest daughter had learning difficulties and they were trying to get her into a special education school in the centre of Llancastell. She was really pleased for him.

  ‘That’s brilliant news, Luke.’

  ‘Yeah,’ Merringer said as he beamed and put away his phone. ‘She’ll be really happy there.’

 
A noise from across the road distracted them. Jason Wright was closing the steel gate to the field and securing it with a padlock.

  ‘Mr Wright?’ Ruth called.

  Wiping sweat from his face on his shirt sleeve, Jason walked over. ‘Any news?’ From his half-hearted tone, he obviously didn’t think there was.

  ‘I’m sorry. Nothing new. There’s a few things we’d like to ask you, though, if that’s okay?’ Ruth said.

  Jason shrugged. ‘Yeah, of course.’

  Ruth was taken aback by his cooperation. It was about time that Jason Wright started to be helpful.

  ‘We’ve noticed that you had some dealings with the police when you were younger?’ Ruth said.

  ‘Oh that? That was nothing. Just being a bit of an idiot.’

  ‘Sex with an underage girl isn’t just being a bit of an idiot. You would have ended up in prison and on the sex offenders register if it had happened now.’

  ‘Come on! I was only a teenager and that was thirty years ago. How does this have anything to do with Rosie?’ Jason said, getting angry and indignant.

  ‘And a fifteen-year-old girl is a child,’ Ruth said.

  She was getting annoyed at his levity. Don’t be a twat. A four-year age gap is enormous at that age, and you know it!

  ‘There was also an incident with your sister?’ Merringer asked.

  ‘Yeah, and that was dropped. She made that up because she was a bitch, and she still is. You can’t use that against me.’ Jason complained.

  ‘We understand that you know Martin Hancock?’ Ruth said.

  ‘Not really,’ Jason replied.

  ‘Steven Haddon seems to think that you’re friends. That you go to the pub together sometimes?’ Ruth said.

  ‘Is that against the law?’

  ‘No. I’m just trying to ascertain what your relationship with Martin Hancock is,’ Ruth explained.

  ‘He’s a bloke I see down the pub sometimes. People round here don’t like him, but I think he’s all right. Sometimes we have a chat. That’s it,’ Jason explained.

  ‘You were at The Royal Oak pub last Monday night, weren’t you?’ Merringer asked.

  ‘Yeah, I was.’

  ‘Did you happen to see Martin Hancock?’

  ‘I’ve no idea. I’m at the pub most nights so I can’t remember,’ Jason said, starting to get irritated. ‘Can I go now? I’ve got a lot to do.’

  ‘Of course,’ Ruth said.

  Jason walked away without another word.

  ‘I’ll get those car keys,’ Merringer said and wandered over to Kathy Wright’s black Ford Focus.

  After only a second, Merringer reappeared from the car. ‘Boss?’ He waved something at her. It was a small, black pay-as-you-go mobile phone. ‘It was tucked inside the driver’s door.’

  Merringer came over and handed it to her. ‘Wonder what we’ll find on that, Boss?’ He called as he walked back to Kathy Wright’s car.

  Ruth nodded and smiled. ‘Good work, Luke.’

  As Ruth headed slowly back towards their unmarked Astra, she knew the phone they had just found might prove significant. Looking at her watch, they had just enough time to go up to Haddon Farm and revisit the yard and barn before returning to CID at Llancastell for an evening briefing.

  Turning back, she saw Merringer searching the inside of Kathy’s car.

  ‘Today would be good, Luke,’ she called out sarcastically.

  Merringer looked over his shoulder at her, shook his head with a smile and gestured, ‘Her keys were in the ignition. That’s country folk for you!’

  He reached in to take them.

  Click.

  BOOM!

  A ball of orange and black engulfed Merringer, tossing his body into the air.

  A millisecond later, Ruth was lifted and flung onto her back. She couldn’t get her breath, and then she lost consciousness for a few seconds.

  Everything was silent and dark. Hot, black embers and dust appeared before her eyes as she tried to move. She felt paralysed. Maybe she was.

  And then falling. A rain of fragments and stones that clattered all around her. But she couldn’t hear them. She couldn’t hear anything.

  What the hell just happened? Oh my God!

  She sucked in the hot air but felt like she was drowning.

  I can’t breathe!

  Her throat, nostrils, mouth and eyes were burning as she tried to move again. Getting on to her side, her hearing started to return ever so slightly. Her eardrums rang and hissed like she had just walked out of a ten-hour techno rave.

  Looking from where she had been flung, the black carcass of the Ford Focus was submerged by thick flames and smoke. She could feel the heat on her face and hands from where she was.

  Scrambling to her knees and then her feet, she felt overcome by dizziness. She needed to get to Merringer. She gagged on the thick smoke and spat on the ground as she staggered past the car to where she had seen Merringer disappear.

  Where’s Luke? I need to find Luke?

  Losing her footing, Ruth reached for the stone wall for balance. She needed to sit down.

  ‘Are you all right, ma’am?’ a voice shouted. It was Bennett.

  But her focus was on getting to Merringer. Where was he? What the hell was going on? Her mind knew what she had just seen. The car had exploded when Merringer had touched the keys in the ignition. Logic told her that it had been some kind of bomb. But at that moment, she couldn’t process the thought with any perception.

  And then she saw him.

  Merringer’s body had been flung over the fence and onto the dirt track behind. Climbing over the steel gate, Ruth thought she was going to faint. Her hands and arms shook uncontrollably as she tried to haul herself over. She didn’t care. She needed to get to him.

  Running over to him, she saw that Merringer’s face was a bloody, black mess. She could smell the burnt flesh and hair and gagged. The whites of his eyes were highlighted against the charred skin. They weren’t moving.

  There was no sign of life.

  ‘I’ve called for help, ma’am,’ Bennett said as she crouched beside Ruth.

  Reaching to his neck, Ruth felt for a pulse. She knew it was a futile gesture.

  Detective Constable Luke Merringer was dead.

  CHAPTER 15

  Three days, twenty-two hours

  Pulling right off the A434, Nick was getting close to Woodburn Farm where Hayley had said Christian Vasilescu sometimes stayed. He knew Woodburn Farm well, especially from his days as a uniformed officer. The travellers had had some sort of site there for over forty years. The population and people changed and fluctuated, but there were a few families who now went back three generations.

  As Nick slowed, he could see the irregular lines of white caravans at the end of the dusty track. Hitting a deep pothole, he slowed the car. He had already been spotted coming down the lane. He felt a twinge of anxiety. Maybe it was a bit reckless to go in without any back-up. In the old days, no officer would go in without the help of the heavy brigade: the ‘hats and bats’ unit.

  A flag and hand-painted sign signalled the site’s entrance: We Shall Not Be Moved and Trespassers Will Be Shot. Nick knew they weren’t joking.

  Pulling over to park up, he noticed children playing noisily, riding bikes and chasing half a dozen dogs. They looked free and happy.

  A portly woman in a long purple dress came over, looked at him suspiciously, and then smiled. ‘Bloody hell. We haven’t seen you here for a while,’ she said. Despite being away from Donegal for thirty years, she still carried the accent.

  ‘It’s Gwen, isn’t it?’ Nick had just about remembered her name from his time in uniform. He had been there on a regular basis – truancy, vandalism, petty theft.

  ‘How can I help you, son?’ she asked.

  Nick got out his warrant card and said, ‘I’m with CID now.’

  ‘All grown up, eh?’

  Fishing into his pocket, Nick pulled out one of the A4 sheets that carried Rosie Wright�
�s photo. ‘I’m looking for this girl, Rosie Wright. She’s been missing a few days now.’

  ‘We know about that. It’s not the feckin’ third world out here. We have televisions and everything,’ she chortled sarcastically. ‘It’s a terrible thing, that. Poor girl. And her family must be beside themselves.’

  ‘You haven’t seen her then?’ Nick asked.

  ‘No. Sorry.’

  Nick then pulled out his phone, tapped on a photo and showed it to her. ‘Ever seen this man? Christian Vasilescu? He’s Romanian.’

  ‘Romanian? No, doesn’t ring a bell.’ Gwen gestured. ‘Come on, we’ll ask some of the lads. See if they know him or if they’ve heard of him.’

  As they wandered past the neat, clean chalets, Nick saw two teenage girls hanging out some washing. They looked at him and giggled.

  ‘Don’t mind them. Daft as a brush, those pair,’ Gwen said, laughing.

  To one side, old televisions, a computer and a washing machine had been heaped together. The dogs had noticed his presence and came bounding over to check him out. A large, black mongrel decided to jump up at his leg and bark.

  ‘Elvis! Will you feckin’ leave the fella alone!’ Gwen yelled at the dog, who immediately retreated and trotted away.

  Up ahead, a few older men in their sixties, dressed in open shirts, vests and shorts, sat on deck chairs in the sun. One was on a mobile phone, another read a paper.

  ‘Declan. The officer here is looking for someone. I thought you might know him?’ Gwen said.

  Declan put his newspaper to one side and stood up from his deckchair. He was a short man, no taller than five foot six. But he was heavy and looked like he could really handle himself. His jet-black hair was scraped back off his dark, tanned face.

  ‘Who you looking for, son?’ Declan asked as he came over. His voice was surprisingly soft, Nick thought.

  Delving into his pocket, Nick fished out the photo of Vasilescu and handed it to him. He frowned and looked at it intently.

  ‘His name’s Christian Vasilescu. He’s Romanian,’ Nick explained.