A Soldier's Honour Box Set 2 (Sgt Major Crane crime thrillers Box Set)

by Wendy Cartmell

  “Okay I’ll go back to Barracks and call Padre Symmonds and get him to go over to the Wainwright’s house as well as your officer. Even if the Wainwright’s don’t want him to stay, we need to offer them support from the Army as well. Email the picture of the baby over to Billy as soon as you get it, would you? He can circulate it around the RMPs. Just in case Tyler has been taken by someone who lives on the Garrison. See you back at the police station to meet the press.”

  “Thanks, Crane,” said Anderson and they parted to go back to their cars, neither man looking forward to the coming days, or possibly weeks. Crane knew it was bad enough dealing with a drugs ring, and the cat and mouse game they were playing, trying to stay one step ahead of their opposition. But when one of the suspects had just had a baby snatched, Crane knew it was impossible to predict what might happen next and the ramifications that any outcome in the kidnapping case, might have on the drug smuggling case, and vice versa.

  21

  Padre Symmonds was nothing short of flabbergasted when Crane rang him.

  “A snatched baby?”

  He’d said that twice already. Crane knew how he felt. Everyone at Provost Barracks had been just as horrified. Including Captain Draper. The trouble was they were all family men to a greater or lesser extent. Even those not married could find empathy with the devastated parents. What if it was their nephew or niece? Brother or sister? Those that were married had an overriding need to go home and gather their little ones in their arms. But they were on duty. So they stayed on duty. Unable to leave their Barracks. One of the many Army versus family struggles soldiers had to deal with every day of their service.

  Crane gave the Padre the details of the parents and their address. But he didn’t tell him Wainwright was suspected of drug smuggling. Strongly suspected. Although they hadn’t been able to check that there were actually drugs in the ration boxes in his garage. They wouldn’t know that for sure until the hand over to Josip Anic.

  There was silence at the other end of the line, so Crane said, “Are you still there, Padre?”

  “Oh, sorry, yes, Crane. I was just thinking about a dead baby left on the church steps and now a missing baby. Any connection do you think?”

  “At the moment, we really don’t have any idea, sir.”

  “Just wondering out loud, but, maybe the woman whose baby died, could have snatched a baby by way of compensating for her loss?”

  “As I said, sir, at the moment, we have no idea.”

  “Very well, Crane, I’ll take the hint, keep my nose out of your investigation and get on with my job of supporting the parents.”

  “Thank you, sir. Sorry, but you know the drill.”

  “Indeed I do,” laughed the Padre, more sardonic than humorous, having been involved in more than one of Crane’s investigations in the past. “Right, I’ll get over there.”

  “One more thing, Padre.”

  “Yes, Crane?”

  “If you hear anything which could help the investigation, please call me ASAP. Anything the parents say that could provide a link between the mother and the snatcher. You never know what they may say without thinking or realising, that could help.”

  After the slightest of hesitations, the Padre said, “Very well, Crane. Normally I would treat anything someone says to me during a welfare visit as confidential, but I feel these are, shall we say, extenuating circumstances. So if there’s anything at all that I think you should know, or even if I don’t know if it could help, I’ll call straight away.”

  “Thank you, sir. I’m available anytime, day or night.”

  After replacing the receiver, Crane took a deep breath and went to see Captain Draper. Not sure how his boss would work with him on a major investigation. Untried territory and all that.

  “Come,” was the call from Draper’s office in response to Crane’s knock.

  “Afternoon, sir,” Crane said as he entered.

  “Ah, Crane, good, come to give me a report about the baby, have you?”

  “Yes, sir,” and Crane detailed the parts of the investigation underway to date.

  “Okay,” Draper leaned back in his chair. “Thoughts?”

  Here we go, thought, Crane. I do all the work as usual. But he managed to push away his negativity and said, “Connections.”

  “Alright, what connections have we got?”

  “Dead baby and missing baby. Garrison church. Army family. Those are the main ones. Oh and the drug smuggling, but I’m feeling that’s completely separate.”

  “You don’t think its Anic making sure Wainwright comes through with the drugs?”

  “To be honest, boss, no,” Crane fingered the scar under his beard, “but I’ll run it passed DI Anderson. See if he thinks that’s how Anic operates.” Crane was pleasantly surprised. It made a pleasant change for an OC to offer suggestions rather than shouts.

  “Good. Do they look anything alike, the two babies?”

  “Don’t know, sir, still waiting for the photo to come through from Anderson. But they’re both female.”

  “Hmmm,” Draper took a moment for reflection. “Once the photo comes through what are you doing with it?”

  “Circulate it to the RMPs. I’m also thinking about a search, but where? And is there any point? We don’t know if the baby is on the Garrison, if the snatcher is connected to the Army, or lives on the Garrison. We don’t even know if the snatcher is male or female. Although female is much more likely.”

  “He or she might be, though,” said Draper thoughtfully, “connected to the Army, that is, so go ahead with that. Talk to Staff Sgt Jones, get a few more patrols on the streets. Show the photo around the Messes, NAFI, that sort of thing.”

  “Right-oh, sir. I’m also going to get Billy to check the CCTV for both incidents, to see if he can find anyone who appears on both of them.”

  “Good idea, although that may take a while.”

  “I think it’s still worth doing, sir.”

  “Agreed. I’m willing to throw whatever resources you need at this, Crane. You know and I know how important it is to find Sgt Wainwright’s child. So I’m not going to do the ‘just get a result’ talk bollocks. You know that one, already, eh?”

  “Yes, boss.”

  “Good, now get out of here. You need to be on the ground, not pussyfooting around me.”

  Crane nodded and did as he was told. As he clattered down the stairs he thought that his Captain was definitely more supportive and less critical than Edwards, but there was a long way to go yet. He just hoped that being an ex NCO, Draper would ‘get’ the investigative side of the job and support rather than criticise.

  After issuing his orders to Jones and Billy, he took himself off to Aldershot Police Station, but managed to call Tina on the way. Just to make sure his wife and son were alright. Safe at home.

  22

  BREAKING NEWS

  Tonight on BBC South Today.

  We are getting reports that a baby has been snatched in North Camp, near Farnborough. Police say they are investigating and will release full details as soon as they are available. More in our programme at 6.30 tonight.

  Bob Wainwright was more than flabbergasted. He was bloody astounded. He felt as though he were in a film, or as though he were watching the events unfolding before him in a drama on the television and hoped that it was happening to someone else. But he knew that it was a vain hope. Because it was real. There really were police officers crawling over his house. There really were a couple of military police lads in a jeep outside on the drive. There really was a clutch of neighbours at the bottom of the street, rubber necking. Trying to find out what was going on. At the other end of the street were the press. Local for now, but apparently the national lot were on their way.

  He just hoped that everyone kept out of his garage. They had so far. At least the jeep in front of the garage door might deter them. As he stood on his doorstep, smoking and trying to calm himself, he knew he should be feeling something. His daughter was missing.
His daughter could be dead. His daughter could be in the hands of some maniac. But he felt nothing about that. His overriding emotion was fear. Fear focused on the drugs and, of course, on Josip Anic. On what he might do to make sure this deal goes ahead. On how far he would go. On what he might have done already. But he had to push that thought away. Didn’t want to believe that Anic could have his daughter. Couldn’t voice that thought to anyone.

  Taking a last drag of his cigarette, he looked up after he had thrown away the butt and was confronted by the Padre. Shit, fuck, he said in his head, but of his mouth came, “Good afternoon, Padre, thank you for coming, sir,” and he held out his hand, hoping the Padre wouldn’t notice the tremors.

  The two men went into the house and through to where Julie Wainwright was sitting on the settee, leaning on an older woman, the Aldershot Police Family Liaison Officer.

  “Julie,” Bob said, as he went over to her. “The Padre’s here. He’s come to see if he can help.”

  Julie lifted her head off the policewoman’s shoulder. Bob had been introduced to her but for the life of him couldn’t remember her name. But it didn’t seem to matter, he didn’t need to speak to her, for she stood and said, “I’ll make us all a nice cup of tea,” relinquishing her place on the settee to the Padre.

  Bob saw the Padre take his wife’s hand, watched him rubbing the back of it and then Julie lift her tear stained face to him.

  “Why, Padre?” she asked him. “Why would someone do this?”

  “I’m so sorry, Mrs Wainwright. Julie. May I call you Julie?” the Padre asked gently.

  Julie nodded, her tears falling off her cheeks and plopping onto her jumper, as she moved her head.

  “We must be positive, Julie,” he said. “Everyone is working very hard to find out what happened to Tyler.”

  The Padre had the words of consolation for his wife that Bob was unable to find, let alone voice. Again Julie nodded. It appeared to Bob that she wasn’t able to speak. Well neither was he, really. He hoped the Padre wouldn’t start asking him questions.

  Then the phone call came. The one he’d been dreading. From Anic.

  “Excuse me, Padre,” he said, “I must take this,” and he rushed through to the back of the house, pushing past the policewoman in the kitchen, flinging open the door and then answering his mobile.

  “Bob!” Julie called after him, but he ignored her wail and kept going until he reached the relatively safety of the garden.

  “Yes?” he grunted into the phone.

  “Bob, just ringing to see how you are.”

  “How the hell do you think I am, you bastard.”

  “Now, now, Bob, that’s not the attitude. I’ve just seen the news and thought I would ring and offer you my condolences.”

  “For a start my daughter isn’t dead so I don’t need your bloody condolences and for a second I want to know if you’re behind this.”

  “Me? Bob, how could you think that?”

  “Quite easily, I assure you. Now, answer my question. Do you have my daughter?”

  “No, Bob, of course not.”

  “Do you have anything to do with this?”

  “Bob, please. What do you take me for?”

  Wainwright wanted to spew every expletive he could think of at Anic. But he knew he better not do that. Fear was fuelling his display of bravado. So he kept quiet.

  “How is this going to affect our little arrangement?”

  Ah, Wainwright thought, this is the real reason he’s ringing.

  “Could be delayed,” he replied. “There are police and military police everywhere. I think we need to lie low for a bit. A few days at least. See what happens here.”

  “Very well. But don’t keep me waiting too long, eh?” Anic said and terminated the call.

  Wainwright remained in the garden for a few minutes, smoking and walking around as though the movement would help move the enquiry along, move time along, fast forward to Tyler’s return, then Bob could get Anic out of his hair for good.

  Crying

  It had been that easy for Kerry to become whole again. For her to become a mother again. Since her return, the flat seemed to be filled with light, laughter and love. Even Alan had been persuaded to return, no doubt drawn by all the activity and happiness emanating from her and the child, she thought. From Kerry and Tyler.

  No one had seemed to notice her as she’d walked back to the flat that afternoon. She seemed invisible as usual. Just another lonely woman walking the streets. Nothing to concern anyone. Her large wrap-around coat had covered Tyler completely and the walking had stopped her crying, so no one was any the wiser about the child she had just taken. Kerry was the one that had understood that all the child had needed was some human contact. Some human contact from her mother. Because that’s what Kerry was now. Tyler’s mother.

  She’d told Alan all about it, when she got home, as she cradled Tyler in her arms. Told him how she’d heard the cry, the one that went straight to her heart. The cry that prompted her into action. The cry that was just for Kerry alone. It must have been, she reasoned, because no one else had reacted to the baby’s distress. No one else had tried to help, she told him. And so it was the cry that had convinced her that this had been her destiny all along. To show she could be a better mother than Julie could ever be. But not only that, it was an opportunity for Alan to be a better father than Bob Wainwright ever wanted to be.

  Everything was going to be alright now. Kerry was sure of it.

  23

  Tonight on Channel 4 News

  A baby snatched in broad daylight out of her pushchair.

  Did no one see anything? Do we live in a society where no one cares?

  A full report later on in the programme.

  Billy looked up and stretched as Crane came into the SIB office in Provost Barracks. He yawned, his eyes closing at the height of his deep inhalation of air. Crane looked more closely and saw that Billy looked well and truly knackered.

  “You all right, lad?” he asked.

  “Mmm, okay thanks, boss.”

  “Well you don’t look it. You look as if you need some fresh air and caffeine. So get a pot of coffee going and we’ll take a cup outside.”

  “Are you sure, boss? I’ll keep going.”

  “Billy, your eyes are practically standing out on stalks. You need a break and I need a coffee. So, the solution is simple. I’ll meet you outside and you can tell me what you’ve found.”

  Crane was leaning against the Barrack’s wall when Billy emerged with two mugs of steaming coffee in his hand.

  “Thanks, Billy.”

  “Cheers, boss,” Billy responded and toasted his mug at Crane.

  After blowing on the brew and taking an investigative sip, Crane said, “So, anything for me yet?”

  “Yes. Kerry Chandler. The woman we went to talk to about the dead child.”

  “What about her.”

  “Well, I’ve found her on CCTV,” Billy said as Crane lit his cigarette. “She was caught up in North Camp in the Co-op. About 10 minutes before Tyler was snatched.”

  “Shopping?”

  “Yes and no, wandering around on her own but I didn’t see her buy anything. No kid. No pram.”

  “Interesting. I wonder where her baby was? She probably got someone to look after her kid for a bit. Molly she’s called, isn’t she?”

  “Yes, boss. But she looked at bit out of it.”

  “Drugs? Widened pupils? That sort of thing?”

  “No, don’t think so. The pictures aren’t that good, so when I zoom in I can’t see her eyes clearly. But she just seems, oh I don’t know, lost within herself somehow.”

  “Well, I guess you get days like that when you’ve lost your husband.”

  “True.”

  “A very interesting co-incidence that, though. Mind you, she does still have a baby. We can’t disbelieve our own eyes. We saw what we saw. A baby asleep in the cot.”

  “That’s what I thought. So, I’m going to keep
digging and see what else I can find.”

  “Thanks, Billy and well done so far.”

  “No worries, boss. I couldn’t live with myself if I missed anything that could have helped find the baby. When I think of my sister’s kids and how I’d feel if it was one of them...” Billy’s voice trailed off and he examined the bottom of his coffee mug.

  “Here, take this would you?” Crane said, to call Billy back from his reverie. He handed back his mug and pulled out his car keys.

  “Where are you off to, boss?”

  “Aldershot Police Station. We’ve another press conference. Although I’ve nothing to tell them. I only hope Anderson has.”

  ***

  Crane was sat at the table, facing the press. Also there were DI Anderson and some bloke from the police press office. He’d briefed them before the event. Told them exactly what to divulge and what not to. As though they were rookies. As though they didn’t know how to handle press conferences. Crane had pretty much dismissed his words as soon as they were out of the bloke’s mouth. But now? Well he wasn’t so sure.

  From the minute they’d walked into the room it had started. Cameras whirring and flashing from the photographers bunched up directly in front of the table. Television camera crews were tucked in along the sides of the photographers. Behind them were all the reporters, their mobile phones and hand held recorders pushed towards the police, notebooks open and pencils at the ready.

  “DI Anderson!”

  “Sgt Major!”

  “This way please, sir.”

  “Could we just have a quote…”

  It took some time for the press officer to call them to order, but in the end had the baying crowd under some sort of control, but only because he’d threatened to cancel the whole thing. When they realised they’d have nothing for their evening news programmes or tomorrow’s papers, they settled down, prepared to listen.

  But once the prepared statements were out of the way, Crane was shocked by the ferocity of the questions and the tenacity of the reporters laid out before them. Having mostly only had provincial press contact, apart from during Team GB’s training camp on the Garrison (which had been a whole other ball game), this was completely different. He was used to Diane Chambers of the Aldershot News nipping at his heels like an angry miniature Yorkshire Terrier. Well, if that’s what Chambers was, then this lot were Rottweilers.