"Let's see. Um … The boy was eleven. Ah, Miss Sedark was his P.E. teacher … That's a shame, his parents died when he was twelve. Ah, here we are, a sister three years younger, that explains why we've no record for her in this year, she would've been at primary school. Hang on, there's a note here from the headmistress at the time. My God, it was Doreen Nicholls …" He stopped and gawped at the two detectives. "Wasn't she found murdered last week?"
"Unfortunately, yes. Please, what does the note say?" Lorne asked, as the case slotted together in her mind.
"It says John Scott told Miss Sedark that both he and his sister were being abused. She called in social services immediately. They were abused by their parents. How awful."
Pete glanced at Lorne, nodded his head, then asked, "Don't suppose you have the name of the social worker in there, do you?"
"Yes, here it is …"
"Sandy Crayford," they said, in unison.
"How did you know that?" Mr Warren asked, astounded.
"An educated guess. Miss Crayford's body was found last Thursday. Another grisly piece of this jigsaw."
"Oh my God and you think there's a connection with this man?"
"We're not sure yet. Is it possible to have a copy of the file, Mr Warren?"
"Of course, I'll do it immediately. There's a copier in the office."
"So what do you reckon?" Pete asked, as they waited for the file.
"Two kids abused by their parents, the first thing we need to find out is, how the parents died."
"I'll make enquiries when we get back. Aren't abused kids supposed to be removed from the family home? If that's the case, did the parents die before or after the kids were shipped out? Could J.S's accomplice be his sister?"
"What if the kids were taken from their parents, forced to live apart in separate foster, or adoptive, families. You hear about it all the time, especially back then. Retribution. That's what the killer said. It's got to be him. He's killed all the people who he considers let him down as a kid. His parents — that's something we have to investigate, his teacher, the social worker and the headmistress." Lorne drew lines to all the names she'd written on a scrap of paper while she spoke.
Pete nodded his agreement. "Why, why now? I mean after all these years?"
"I don't know. Do we know how long he's worked at Toni's Taxis?"
"Not sure, I'll have to check. What about it?"
"Let's assume he's only just joined the firm. Maybe he picked up Belinda or Doreen in his cab one day. Perhaps, if he recognised them it triggered off a bad memory. All we can do is speculate until we get back to the station." Lorne's mind wandered for a moment as she thought about her own families issues.
"You're off somewhere else, boss, you okay?"
"I'm fine, just thinking about Tom and Charlie," she said, smiling sadly.
"I'm glad to hear it. You'd have to be an idiot to chuck all that away just because of a crush."
"No matter how many times I tell you, Pete, you're still going to think the worst of me. Jacques and I are just friends. Maybe if circumstances were different … But I promise you, nothing improper has gone on between us!"
"It's that bloody frog accent that sends you weak at the knees, ain't it?"
"Give it a rest, Pete." God will he ever stop going on about me and Jacques? Maybe he will, if I change the subject. "Wonder how long Mr Warren's going to be?"
Thankfully, the man appeared a few seconds later. "Here you are, Inspector. There's a copy of John Scott's file and a copy of Miss Sedark's personnel file. What about her husband, have you called him?"
"She's married? I'm sorry, I just assumed she was a Miss." Lorne took the manila folder from the headmaster.
"Jane is one of those teachers who prefers to use her maiden name at school. She got married a couple of years ago. We all thought she would be a spinster all her life." For a moment, his eyebrows met and he pulled his lips into a thin line against his teeth and bobbed his head as though in deep sadness. "Her address is in the file or if you like I could call round and tell Gordon?"
"We'll send a family liaison specialist to tell him. We'll need to ask him some questions as well."
"I see," Mr Warren said, a hint of worry in his smile.
"Here's my card. We'll do our utmost to bring her home safely, Mr Warren."
"Let's hope you find Jane, soon."
Chapter Forty-Five
Chief Roberts was waiting for them in the incident room when they walked in. He waved a piece of paper at Lorne. "One warrant, Inspector," he said, handing her the folded sheet of paper.
"How did you manage to get it so quickly?" She took the paper and checked the details.
"Don't ask. Let's just say someone owed me a big favour. Mind if I tag along?"
"I have a few things to sort out first. I need to speak with the team, be with you in ten minutes."
She quickly filled the team in and told Molly to dig up what she could find on the Scott's parents. Then she rang Jacques from her office.
"Meet me at 26 Clearmont Rd. I'll be leaving in about five minutes, and Jacques…"
"Yes, cherie?"
"Full professional etiquette required, Roberts, the new chief, will be there."
"Message received and understood. See you there."
* * *
"Pete you ready? We'll probably go in the chief's car."
They pulled up outside J.S's flat at just after nine p.m. Lorne jumped out of the vehicle and went to talk to Tracy and Mitch.
"Anything happen?" Lorne asked, bending down to talk to Mitch through the open window of his car.
"Absolutely nothing, ma'am. His car ain't here. I took the liberty of checking with the neighbours. The bloke two doors down, says the man who owns the flats lives in the first floor flat. He's been out of the country for three months visiting relatives in Oz. He's due back next week. Apparently, Scott likes to keep to himself. But lately, he's noticed different women going in his flat with him. Thought it strange."
"What's strange about it?" Lorne asked her eyes set on the house.
"The guy said that he was puzzled when the women never seemed to come back out. Except one, she was totally different to the others. When I asked what was different about her, he said he couldn't put his finger on it. The guy also said he didn't think J.S. seemed the type to have one night stands. He couldn't understand what these 'respectable' looking women saw in him."
"The odd woman could be his sister. Right-o, we've got a warrant. I want you two to keep an eye on the rear."
The two Sergeants left the car to take up their positions, and Lorne headed back to Pete and Roberts. With reluctance, Lorne said, "Do you want to take charge of this, sir?"
"No, I'd like to see how you handle yourself out in the field, Inspector."
Oh great, I'm under observation. Bloody charming!
Pete rang the doorbell, and although they could see a glimmer of light poking through a gap in the curtains, no one answered the door. "Break it down, Pete."
Moments later the three of them had separated, and searched every room in the flat. They met up again in the man's living room after several minutes.
"Ssh … quiet, did you hear that?" Lorne whispered. They all stood still and tried to work out where the noise was coming from. Lorne got down on her hands and knees and placed her ear to the floor. Quickly, she pulled back the rug she'd tripped over on her previous visit, and revealed a trap door.
Pete nudged Lorne aside and released the catch. He pulled the door open to reveal a dark, damp room that had a ladder leading down into it.
The muffled cry forced them to hurry down the rickety ladder. Lorne swung her torch around the makeshift cell. Terror-stricken eyes caught in the glare. The woman was stripped naked, sitting tethered to a wooden chair. "Get me a blanket, Pete!" Lorne shielded the woman's body from her partner. The chief rushed back up the ladder to call an ambulance.
Tears streamed down the woman's blood-soaked face. "Jane Sedark?" Lorne tore the
tape from the woman's mouth. She gasped for air and nodded. Lorne took off her jacket and draped it carefully around her shoulders to cover as much of her front as she could. She tried to free the woman's hands and feet from their bindings, but her own hands shook too much. Just then, Pete returned with a blanket and untied the woman.
Blood had seeped into the small crevices age had worn in her skin. Her greying hair had large stripes of red running through it. The woman sobbed as it dawned on her she'd been found and was no longer in danger.
When she finally recovered her voice, the woman cried out, "Why …Why me?"
Thank God, we found her before he … Lorne's eyes stung and she swore to herself she'd get the bastard no matter what it took.
"We'll talk later, Jane. For now, let's get you to hospital, love. You're safe, that's all that matters. He can't hurt you anymore."
"Hello? Inspector, are you here?" A familiar voice called from above.
"Down here, Dr Arnaud. We've found her. She's alive."
"Thank God. Have you called for an ambulance?" Jacques descended the ladder to the cell.
"The chief's just doing it. Can you check Jane over in the meantime?"
"Of course, of course. Now don't worry, madam, we'll soon have you out of here."
Lorne smiled at the gentle way Jacques treated the woman. His bedside manner touched her, considering how he was used to dealing with patients who generally lacked a pulse.
The ambulance arrived ten minutes later. Jacques found a possible fracture in Jane's skull from where J.S. had hit her in the car. She'd also sustained a couple of cracked ribs that the paramedics strapped up before they manoeuvred her up the rickety ladder on a stretcher and, whisked her away.
"Jesus, what the hell …" Roberts exclaimed, taking in his surroundings when he eventually joined them in the cell, again. To the rear, out of the woman's reach was a dog bowl containing the smallest amount of thick porridge.
Inches away from the bowl were human faeces and a pile of women's clothes, including bras and panties, belonging, they assumed, to the previous victims. The beam from Lorne's torch highlighted the vast amounts of blood on every surface of the hellhole.
"They were kept like animals. Obviously stripped, and by the looks of things, beaten regularly," Jacques told the three detectives as he rigged up better lighting and took photos of the crime scene.
When Lorne spotted the way her boss was eyeing the Frenchman, she said, "Sorry you two haven't met. Jacques Arnaud, Home Office pathologist, this is Chief Inspector Sean Roberts."
"I believe we spoke on the phone earlier," Jacques said, offering his hand.
Sean gave Jacques' hand the briefest of shakes before he said, "We did indeed, Doctor. Can I ask how you managed to get here so quickly?"
"I have contacts who keep me abreast of certain situations, shall we say," Jacques replied, holding Sean's stare.
"I see. Well, don't let me hold you up any longer. Inspector, a word upstairs if you don't mind."
Sean shunted up the ladder ahead of her. Jacques chuckled made a fist with his right hand and mouthed, 'Give him hell.' She struggled to suppress a smile as she climbed the ladder.
Instead of reprimanding her for contacting Jacques, as expected, Sean surprised her by discussing what their next course of action would be. "I've notified the station, all cars are on the lookout for Scott's vehicle. Is there anywhere else he's likely to hide?"
"I haven't got a clue, as yet. First we need to find out where his sister lives. Did you instruct the team to notify Jane's husband?"
"Yes, I told them to send a car to take him to the hospital to be with her. I'll start the search around here. Contact your team, see what they've uncovered with regard to the sister."
"Excuse me, ma'am," Mitch interrupted. "There's something you should see next door."
They both followed Mitch into the bedroom off the hallway. The room was a throw-back to the Sixties, dominated by large, dark, veneered furniture. The mattress was dipped in the middle and dressed in a quilted, old-fashioned, lime green eiderdown. Cork memo boards dominated the far wall. In hushed disbelief, Lorne said, "Oh my God!" her eyes scanned the board, darting from one to the other. Pinned to them was an array of newspaper articles referring to the cases, meticulously lined up in date and crime order. If only I'd had access to this room this afternoon…
Sean stood alongside Lorne and pointed to a section of the newspaper cutting. "Jesus, the bastard's been laughing at us. See? The print is highlighted here, and he's written ha ha beside it."
Weary after the day's events, Lorne turned to him. "Mind if I make a suggestion?"
"Go ahead."
"We've recovered the woman, which was our main priority, and SOCO will be here soon to rip this place apart. We might as well call it a day, there's not a lot we can do until they've finished anyway."
"Sounds like a good idea. It's approaching ten-thirty and we've got everyone searching for the bastard anyway. Let's call it a day." Roberts headed towards the front door.
"I'll see you tomorrow, sir. I'm just going to check on the Doc before I leave."
Pete and Jacques were just coming up the ladder when she returned to the living room.
Lorne walked over to the mantle-piece and studied the photograph that had caught her attention earlier. Jacques crept up behind her. "What can you do with this?" she asked, thrusting the picture at him.
"In what respect?" He took it from her.
"I need to know who the sister is. Any possibility your team could enhance the image by about twenty years?"
"Leave it with me, I'm sure my guys can come up with something."
"We've decided to call it a day. Have you finished down there?" she said, her eyes on the trap door behind him.
"Yes. Before I leave I'd like to examine his clothes. See if there's a possible match to the fibres found at Doreen's house, if that's okay?"
"Sure, I'll help you. Pete, hitch a ride back with Tracy and Mitch, will you? I'll see you bright and early, tomorrow."
Pete shrugged and appeared to be bothered by his dismissal, but Lorne could tell he was also dead on his feet.
Not long after, she found a grey tank-top and handed it Jacques.
"This could be just what we need. He tucked the garment into an evidence bag. "I'll get it examined first thing, make it top priority, along with the photo. The results should be back around lunchtime tomorrow. Talking of food."
"Indian or Chinese," Lorne asked, her stomach groaning on cue.
"You go home, I'll stop off at Mr Ling's for a Chinese banquet and join you in about half an hour."
* * *
The answer-phone was blinking impatiently when she arrived home. "Lorne, it's Tom. Could you could pick Charlie up after school tomorrow from netball? Mum's got a doctor's appointment at four-thirty and doesn't know how long she'll be. I've got a job interview on the other side of town at four. Ring me only if you can't make it, netball finishes at five-thirty, in case you've forgotten. Thanks."
Lorne was subdued when she opened the door to let Jacques in a little while later.
Sensing something was wrong, he said, "Tough day, huh?" He took a couple of steps towards her and Lorne backed away without realising it. He froze, but hid his disappointment by collecting the plates and dishing up their meal.
She let out a deep sigh and confided, "Tom rang. He left a message on the machine."
"Oh." Jacques waited for her to continue.
Lorne spoke, sadly, "Hearing his voice made me realise what a mess our marriage is in. He's asked me to pick up Charlie after school tomorrow. On one hand, I'm grateful he thought to ask me as it gives me the chance of seeing her, but on the other, it's annoying how he regards me as a last resort. Neither Tom, or my lovely mother-in-law, can be there when she finishes netball, so good old Lorne will fill in as a poor substitute." She poured them both a whisky.
"I'm sure you're wrong. You've had a tough day, the slightest problem will almost certainly magnify
when you're tired. Think positively, cherie, at least he's asked for your help. To back down and call you like that must've been difficult for him if he's still angry with you. Cut him some slack, is that what you English say?"
"Yes, that's right." A smile softened her worried features. "How come you're always so damn objective?"
"It comes with the job, cherie. Come on, let's eat before that nasty MSG starts to solidify."
"You doctors certainly know how to put a girl off her food, I'll give you that." She replied, picked up her fork and messed about with the sauce he'd dribbled over her prawn balls.
Cruel Justice (DI Lorne Simpkins (Book one)) Page 26
