by D. S. Butler
Whenever he visited the pub, he took only his front door key in his wallet. Around the farm, he carried a heavy ring weighed down with keys for various outbuildings, tractors and machinery. His father had a similar set. Jasper didn’t want to cart them around with him all night but he needed his main keyring now to get into the windmill. He frowned, wondering how the kids had managed to get inside. A window? They were very narrow and too high up to access, surely? Maybe they’d jimmied the lock?
His keys hung on a rack in the kitchen, and Jasper reached for them without bothering to turn on the light. He slipped into the boot room and picked up his cricket bat. He hadn’t used it since the villagers had closed ranks against him when Amy Fisher disappeared. Bunch of feeble-minded gossips. He’d played for the village team for years before that, and he was the best bowler they’d had in decades. They hadn’t openly told him to leave, of course. They’d just driven him out with their sly comments and dirty looks. It was Amy’s mother’s fault. She went around telling anyone who’d listen the Palmers were responsible for what happened to her daughter. They all believed her too. Jasper could see it in their eyes. Things had been a little better after Amy’s parents went back to Scotland, but he was never invited to rejoin the team.
Jasper gripped the handle and tested the weight of the bat. Those kids would soon learn not to trespass on Palmer property. He grinned. He’d enjoy teaching them a lesson.
He shut the front door behind him and set out at a jog towards the old windmill, the keys jingling in his pocket. But when he reached the entrance, he saw he didn’t need them. The door to the windmill was slightly ajar. He examined the lock, expecting to see it bent and battered, but there was no sign of any damage.
When he stepped inside and heard voices, he frowned, wishing he hadn’t had so much to drink. Then he headed for the spindly ladder that led to the next floor. Tightly gripping the rungs, he began to climb up.
Karen called DI Morgan as she headed across the field towards the windmill. The mobile signal was patchy, but she managed to convey her point after repeating herself a couple of times.
DI Morgan was adamant in his reply. ‘Do not go in there alone, Karen. I’ll direct backup units to go straight to the windmill, but wait for us to get there.’
‘Of course,’ Karen said. ‘I just want to get a bit closer so I can see what’s going on.’
‘Just don’t go inside alone. The place could be on fire. Maybe somebody’s up there trying to destroy evidence.’
‘It doesn’t look like a fire to me. There’s no smoke and the light isn’t flickering as you would expect from a fire.’
‘Just be careful. I’m on my way,’ DI Morgan said and then hung up.
Karen hesitated when she reached the base of the windmill and saw the door was open. She was sure someone was inside. The light filtered out from the narrow windows on to the field. Karen’s shoes were muddy and damp, and the long, wet grass had soaked the bottom of her trousers.
She looked back over her shoulder towards the car. She was a long way from the road now. Why was backup taking so long? The logical thing to do was remain outside and keep a close watch in case anyone left the building. She needed to keep out of sight and keep her eyes and ears open.
But as the door was already unlocked, surely it couldn’t hurt to take a quick look?
She moved silently towards the door and carefully pulled it wide open. She held her breath, waiting for the hinges to creak.
But the door moved smoothly, and Karen slipped inside. The light was coming from one of the upper levels, but it filtered through to the ground floor so that Karen could see the boarding. There were no scorch marks or dark wood. The only signs there’d been a fire here, decades ago, were the dark sooty scars on the bricks. The wood looked new and fresh, recently replaced.
She heard a sound above her and took a step back, pushing herself against the curved brick wall. Someone was in the windmill, and they were moving fast.
She remained in that position, pushed back against the wall in the shadows, and tried to get her bearings. Karen couldn’t see any hatches in the wooden floor or visible openings that could lead to a basement room, although the light wasn’t great. Above her, the gearing system for the windmill mechanism was partially assembled. There was a round grinding stone and large wooden cogs beside it on the floor. She guessed they were replicas.
Was it possible that the stone or cogs concealed the hatch? It was the only way the search team could have missed it. The grinding stone would be too heavy to shift, but a wooden cog could be shoved across the floor with some effort, although it would be virtually impossible to force the hatch open from below with the weight of the cog sitting on top.
Deciding to test her theory, Karen crept forward, looking for scratch marks to indicate the cogs had been moved recently. To her surprise, not only was there a hatch clearly visible behind the wooden cog closest to her, but it was propped open.
She stared down into the darkness. She could just about make out the first two rungs of a ladder, and beyond there was just black. Karen shuddered. She was about to get down on her hands and knees and try to get a better look into the basement when she heard something from one of the higher levels. She froze.
She could hear a low rumbling voice, but it wasn’t clear enough for her to identify. One thing she knew for sure. It wasn’t a child’s voice. Were the children here? Or was something else going on here tonight, completely unrelated to the missing girls?
The last thing she needed was to be caught trespassing by Jasper Palmer.
‘You’re an idiot,’ the voice shouted.
Karen held her breath. Now, that was definitely a male voice and it sounded a lot like Jasper Palmer. But who was he talking to?
She moved away from the hatch to the basement room and tiptoed across the floorboards towards the ladder. But she didn’t dare go any closer. Instead, she waited and listened.
‘What the hell have you done?’ the male voice demanded.
Karen heard a murmured response – the voice of a woman or maybe a child? She put her foot on the first rung of the ladder, straining to hear more.
‘I had to do it. She was hurt and I couldn’t see properly in the dark,’ the female voice said.
‘You’re a fool,’ the man growled. ‘You may as well have lit a beacon. I could see the light from the farmhouse.’
Karen felt her pulse spike and heard the blood rush in her ears. That was definitely Jasper Palmer. But who was the woman? Cathy?
‘The girls were freezing,’ the woman said. ‘I was worried because it’s damp down there, and it’s so cold tonight.’
‘Well, they’re not going to have to worry about the cold for much longer. There’s nothing else for it. We have to get rid of the evidence, including the children.’
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Karen had been holding her breath. But adrenaline flooded her system on hearing Jasper’s words. She couldn’t hide down here if the children’s lives were in danger. But where were they? Karen hadn’t heard a peep out of them.
‘No! You mustn’t touch them,’ the woman pleaded.
‘Get out of my way, Cathy. It doesn’t look like it’s going to be difficult. They’re out of it. What did you give them?’
Karen tightened her grip on the ladder and began to climb. It was no good. She couldn’t just wait down there. She needed to see if the children were up there. She had to.
Cathy said, ‘Medicine. I just gave them medicine.’
Karen paused at the top of the ladder. There was a hole in the boards, and from her position she could see straight up to the next level. The windmill went on for another two floors, but it looked as though both Jasper and Cathy were on the floor above her. She strained forward a little and saw two small figures huddled together on the floor. Emily and Sian?
They weren’t moving.
‘I can’t believe after all this time you were the one who did it,’ Jasper said. He laughed, tottered a litt
le and then leaned heavily on the wall. ‘I would never have thought you had it in you.’
‘Please don’t hurt them, Jasper,’ Cathy whispered.
Karen took one more step, trying desperately to see if the girls were okay. She had a better view, but unfortunately she was more exposed.
Jasper turned and saw her before Karen could duck back down out of sight.
‘What the . . .’ Jasper strode over to the ladder, and before Karen could scramble to safety, he grabbed hold of her.
She fought him as he pulled her from the ladder and dumped her on to the wooden floorboards.
She got to her feet quickly.
‘Police!’ Karen said, not for Jasper’s benefit because it was clear he’d recognised her, but for the little girls if they could hear her. ‘Backup is on the way. I suggest you leave the building and wait outside.’
Karen tried to sound confident and in control, but the look on Jasper’s face sent a chill up her spine.
Hardly daring to take her eyes off Jasper, her gaze flickered over to Cathy briefly. ‘You were involved in this, Cathy?’
‘No, I was trying to help them, to save them.’
‘She’s lost it. She needs to go to the funny farm,’ Jasper shouted.
Karen ignored Jasper’s outburst. ‘Who are you saving them from?’
Cathy shook her head and her eyes filled with tears. ‘They needed my help.’
‘How could you be so stupid?’ Jasper leaned towards Cathy and muttered something in her ear.
Cathy paled and shook her head. ‘No, I won’t let you hurt them.’ She turned to Karen. ‘Quick, get out of here.’
But Karen couldn’t do that. Not when there were two helpless children lying on the floor only a few feet away.
Jasper lifted an object from the floor and swung it from hand to hand. He had a cricket bat. Karen backed away. Where on earth had that come from? She didn’t have time to dwell on that for long because he took another step towards her.
‘What are you planning to do?’ Karen asked, trying to keep the fear from her voice. ‘Are you hoping to get rid of us all before the police get here? It’s not going to work, Jasper. You may as well give up now before anyone gets seriously hurt.’
She shot a glance at the children, wondering if they were still alive.
Jasper didn’t reply. He merely gave her a wolf-like smile.
‘Police backup will be here at any moment. You’re never going to get away with it.’
His smile widened and he took another step forward. ‘Oh, I don’t know about that. They say fire can hide a multitude of sins, don’t they? This place went up in flames once.’ He shrugged. ‘Maybe it’ll happen again.’
He raised the cricket bat, ready to take a swing at Karen.
Karen crouched, ready to dart in the opposite direction, but out of nowhere, Cathy flung herself towards her brother, pushing him hard so he lost his footing and stumbled.
As Jasper fell, his head hit the side of the hatch with a sickening crack, then his body fell like a sack of flour, missing the ladder and falling on to the floor below. He landed with a thud.
Karen rushed to the hatch. He wasn’t moving – and his neck was bent at an unnatural angle.
Cathy let out a high-pitched wail and put her hands over her face. Karen rushed past her to the children huddled beside the wall.
They were unresponsive and their skin was cold. But both girls had a pulse. She lifted Emily’s eyelid and saw the pupil retract.
‘They’re alive. She’s kept them drugged up. Some weird combination of cough medicine and something else . . . crushed-up tablets. I’m not sure what they were, though,’ a raspy female voice said.
Karen turned around and was shocked to see a woman crouched on the floor beside her. She must have been hiding behind the large cogs and grinding machinery that rose up between the floors.
It took Karen a moment to process what she was seeing. ‘Amy?’
The girl nodded. ‘Yes. Are the police really on their way?’
Karen couldn’t believe her eyes. It was Amy Fisher, the girl who’d disappeared from Heighington eighteen months ago. Her face was streaked with dirt and her hair was matted, but she was alive.
Karen looked back at Cathy to make sure she hadn’t moved.
She was rocking backwards and forwards making an unearthly keening sound.
‘Have you been here all this time?’ Karen asked.
Amy’s eyes were like pinpricks and she was far too relaxed considering the circumstances. Karen suspected she’d been drugged as well.
‘She kept me in the basement. She kept saying she was going to let me out when it was safe. But she never did. She only let us out today so she could take a look at one of the girls’ legs. Sian cut herself and it got infected, I think.’
‘Okay, stay calm,’ Karen said, although she needed to keep calm more than Amy did. She seemed strangely detached from everything.
Karen’s heart was thundering as she tried to process what was happening. She dialled dispatch and quickly explained the situation, telling them they’d need more than one ambulance. She guessed that Jasper was beyond help, but all three girls needed attention as soon as possible. God only knew what drugs were in their systems.
Sian was burning up, and Karen pressed the back of her hand against the girl’s forehead.
‘She gave them crushed-up tablets in their orange juice,’ Amy said, crossing her arms over her chest. ‘But I think the girls were too small to cope with whatever was in them. They’ve been out of it most of the time.’
‘What did she give you, Amy?’
Amy let her arms drop to her sides then pulled up one of her sleeves, displaying puncture marks. ‘She let me have something a little stronger.’
Karen winced, wondering where the drugs had come from.
After putting both girls in the recovery position, Karen called out to Cathy, ‘Can you check on your brother and see if he’s still breathing?’
Cathy turned to Karen, looking horrified. Her eyes widened as she shook her head.
‘I don’t think I can,’ Cathy said. ‘I’m sorry. I only wanted to help.’
‘That’s what she always said,’ Amy whispered. ‘Every time I begged to leave, she said she was helping me.’
Karen stared at Amy as the young woman’s eyes struggled to focus. Amy put her hands flat on the floor and took a deep breath as though talking had worn her out.
‘It wasn’t Jasper who took you?’ Karen asked.
Amy shook her head. ‘No, I never saw Jasper here until tonight. I think he just found us the same way you did. I only ever saw her.’ Amy pointed at Cathy, who was starting to enter the hatch and climb down to the next level.
‘Cathy,’ Karen said sharply. ‘Did you take the girls? Or were you helping Jasper?’
‘I was saving the girls like I saved Amy from Jasper.’
Karen’s mind was racing. All this time she’d thought it was Nigel or Jasper behind it all. ‘Did your father know about this?’
Cathy shook her head. ‘No, I would never have told him. The girls wouldn’t have been safe if I’d told him.’
‘Cathy, you’re going to have to explain. Tell me why you were keeping them safe.’
‘Emily was scared. She needed my help. She liked the horses and she trusted me. Her mother had a new boyfriend . . .’
‘Did Emily tell you about him?’
Cathy nodded solemnly. ‘He was a bad man.’
‘Did he do anything to Emily?’
‘He scared her. She didn’t like him.’
‘Is that why you brought her here?’
‘I wanted her to be safe.’
‘What about Sian?’
Cathy’s face crumpled and she leaned heavily on the ladder. ‘I didn’t mean to take Sian, but she came with Emily and I didn’t have a choice. If I’d left her behind, she’d have told people and then Emily wouldn’t be safe.’
‘Why did you take Amy Fisher? I asked you
about her when she went missing, Cathy, and you lied to me.’
Cathy started to cry.
Karen wanted answers, but the harder she tried to get Cathy to talk, the harder the woman cried.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
The accident and emergency department at the hospital was packed as Karen made her way through to reception. Emily Dean, Sian Gibson and Amy Fisher had been brought to the hospital by ambulance, and Karen desperately hoped they had got there in time for the antibiotics to clear Sian’s infection.
The paramedics couldn’t do anything for Jasper Palmer. He was dead by the time they arrived, and Karen suspected he’d died soon after he’d hit the floor. The paramedics said it looked as though he’d broken his neck in the fall.
Karen was unhurt but had decided to travel to the hospital with DI Morgan rather than drive herself. She was still shivering.
‘It’s ridiculous,’ she muttered, shoving her hands in her pockets.
‘What is?’ DI Morgan asked as they waited in line at the reception desk.
Karen held out a trembling hand. ‘I’m still shaking.’
‘It’s hardly surprising. You’ve been through a very traumatic event.’
Karen put her hand back in her pocket and they shuffled a little closer to the desk as one person in the queue ahead of them left to sit down on a plastic chair in the waiting area. A drunk young man was singing to himself on the opposite side of the room.
The large double doors at the entrance slid open, letting in a rush of cold air from outside, and a worried-looking couple holding a toddler with red cheeks joined the queue behind Karen and DI Morgan.
The hospital reception staff dealt with new arrivals from behind a Perspex screen. When a member of staff opened another window to deal with the queue, Karen waved the couple with the toddler ahead of them. She could see the fear on the couple’s faces, and it wasn’t as though she and DI Morgan were in a rush.
