Rollover

by James Raven

  ‘That’s just two minutes from here,’ Temple yelled at the driver. ‘For Christ’s sake put your foot down.’

  The driver was good, but he was also nervous because Temple was breathing down his neck. He almost lost it at one point when he went too fast into a bend. The nearside wheels lifted off the road and they came dangerously close to rolling over.

  But they got to the station in less than a minute, and were the first to arrive at the scene. The forecourt was deserted except for a white transit van parked next to the pumps.

  The police car screeched to a halt beside it and Temple, Angel and the two uniforms jumped out. It took Temple just a moment to size up the situation. No one in the van. He could see through the windscreen into the back. Empty.

  But he saw that there was a man inside the shop at the counter. The man and the cashier were looking at them and Temple wondered what the hell was going on. It was clear that the man buying petrol was not Danny Cain.

  So had the service provider cocked it up? Had they been following a rogue signal?

  ‘Come and look at this, guv.’

  It was Angel. She had moved to the back of the van and was staring at something.

  Temple walked over. A plastic Tesco shopping bag was hanging from the rear door handle. With something inside it.

  ‘Are you thinking what I’m thinking?’ Angel said.

  Temple reached for the bag and unhooked it from the handle. Inside he found two mobile phones.

  Maggie was holding Laura to her chest. Her daughter had woken up suddenly and was now having what appeared to be a panic attack. Her little body was shivering violently and her anxious face was dripping with sweat despite the low temperature in the loft.

  ‘Calm down, sweetheart,’ Maggie said, caressing Laura’s brow with her fingertips. ‘We’ll get out of here. I promise.’

  ‘Where’s Daddy?’ Laura said. ‘You told me that Daddy was coming.’

  ‘He is, sweetheart. It won’t be long now.’

  ‘But we don’t like it here. I want to go home and so does Max. We’re both cold.’

  Maggie clenched her jaw and fought back tears. She couldn’t bear the thought that her daughter was in grave danger. The fear that gripped her was compounded by her own sense of guilt. This was God’s punishment for what she had done. She was convinced of it. She was a bad mother and a terrible wife. The old adage that you don’t know what you’ve got until it’s gone had never rung so true.

  She’d had it all. A loyal husband. A precious child. A wonderful home. And yet it had not been enough. Discontentment had grown like a cancer inside her over the past few years. She had blamed everyone but herself. She recalled what her GP had said:

  It could be a form of mild depression, Mrs Cain. It’s fairly common. You feel stressed out, you’re increasingly worried about financial matters, the spark has gone out of your marriage, you resent your husband for not being more successful. And you’re bored. You should talk it through with your husband. He probably has no idea how you feel.

  And he didn’t. Danny, bless him, remained blissfully unaware that she was putting on an act for much of the time. She had chosen to hide her true feelings because she assumed they would eventually go away and she would feel herself again. But instead she’d continued to feel that there was something missing in her life. It was something she couldn’t put her finger on and yet it blighted her happiness and stifled her contentment. Then five months ago she did something that made her feel better about herself. She embarked on an extra-marital affair. It was sudden and unexpected, but as a result she became less moody and more patient with Danny. Their money worries were no longer at the forefront of her mind. She was no longer bored with her mundane existence. Suddenly she had a distraction.

  But, of course, she chose not to confront the brutal fact that the affair couldn’t last. Had she done so she would have seen that it could only end in tears. Or much worse.

  ‘Did you hear that, Mummy?’

  Laura’s brittle voice jerked Maggie away from her dark thoughts.

  ‘What was that, sweetheart?’

  ‘I heard something,’ Laura said. ‘Outside.’

  Maggie stilled herself, strained her ears to listen.

  Then she heard it. A car’s engine. Tyres on gravel.

  A spasm of sheer terror shot up her spine. The man in the ski mask was back.

  19

  The car came to a juddering halt. I heard the grinding of brakes and then the engine was turned off.

  It was pitch black in the boot so I couldn’t see the face of my watch. I had no idea how many minutes or hours had passed since I was hit over the head.

  I’d regained consciousness a short time ago and it had been like waking up inside a drum. The pain pounded my brain in rhythm with the manic beating of my heart. I had tried to move, only to find that my wrists were bound together with duct tape. I tried now to focus on what was happening. It wasn’t easy. My head felt like it was being squeezed in a vice.

  I heard a car door open and then slam shut. Was he coming for me? Was this the moment of truth? Had he brought me to the place where he was keeping my family? Or was I at the end of some deserted road where he would finish me off and dump the body?

  My mind swirled. The darkness taunted me. I felt cold and sick.

  Then the boot was jerked open. I was on my back, tethered hands resting on my chest, knees bent. I looked up at the sky, dotted with stars. The darker shape of the man in the mask stepped into view, like a black cloud sweeping across my vision.

  ‘We’re here,’ he said. ‘Get out.’

  It was easier said than done. I rolled on to my side, lifted my right leg over the side of the boot, then tried to haul my body out. But I didn’t have the strength. So the kidnapper grabbed my windbreaker and pulled me. He was rough and the process was painful. I hurt both my knees and my chest. And when I was at last clear of the boot my legs gave way and I fell on to the damp gravel.

  ‘Don’t be pathetic, Cain. Stand up.’

  This time he didn’t help me. He closed the boot and stood there watching as I struggled to my feet. Once up I was hit by a wave of dizziness and had to steady myself by leaning against the car.

  I looked at him in the pale glow from an almost full moon. I could just see the whites of his eyes. And I could also see that he was holding something in his right hand. A revolver. Its dark metal glinted suddenly in the moonlight.

  ‘Where are we?’ I said.

  ‘A house,’ he replied. ‘It’s empty, except for your wife and daughter. And you’re about to join them, just like I promised.’

  I looked at the two-storey building ahead of me. No lights were on. All I could see was a large, black shape in the night.

  ‘Who are you?’ I asked him.

  ‘You don’t need to know that.’

  ‘But why are you doing this?’

  ‘Isn’t that obvious?’

  ‘Not to me.’

  ‘Well, it should be,’ he said. ‘There are eighteen million reasons.’

  He gripped my arm and steered me away from the car.

  ‘Start walking towards the house,’ he said. ‘And keep quiet.’

  My knees felt weak and the thudding inside my head impaired my sense of balance. I swayed from side to side like a drunk.

  ‘Are you really prepared to kill us just so you can get the lottery money?’ I asked him.

  ‘I didn’t say I was going to kill you,’ he said. ‘At least, not if you co-operate.’

  ‘So what happens when you hand in Vince’s ticket and claim the money?’

  ‘I set you free and disappear.’

  ‘And you expect me to believe that?’

  He poked me in the back with the muzzle of the gun. ‘Just stop talking and up the pace. The sooner you’re in the house the sooner you’ll be reunited with your family.’

  The house was secluded. That became clear as I shuffled towards it. We were in the countryside, in an elevated position. I c
ould make out a steep hill to my left, beyond the gravel driveway. Some distance away a pair of lone headlights moved slowly along a road. Beyond the road the earth met the sky on an inky canvas. It was dotted with tiny lights from remote homes and small hamlets.

  Trees were clustered around the back and sides of the house and through them I glimpsed some lights, but it was impossible to tell how far away they were. There was a flat-roofed garage attached to the property and an army of rampant weeds were sprouting up through the gravel. The front door was made of shiny dark wood. It had two square glass panels and one of them was broken.

  ‘The door’s unlocked,’ the kidnapper said. ‘Go inside.’

  I opened the door and stepped into a dark hallway. The kidnapper followed me in and switched on the light. Patterned carpet and plain, papered walls were revealed. A small, cherry-wood unit stood next to the stairs. A framed print above it showed a seascape at dusk. The place looked old and unlived in. A musty smell hung heavy in the air. The top of the unit was covered in dust.

  The kidnapper nudged me to one side with the gun and shut the door behind us.

  I turned to look at him. He was even more intimidating in the light. The ski mask was black, along with the heavy duffel coat he was wearing over jeans. He also had on a pair of thick, brown leather walking-boots and I noticed for the first time that there was a canvas rucksack on his back.

  ‘So where are my wife and daughter?’

  He flicked his head towards the stairs.

  ‘In the loft,’ he said. ‘Go on. They’re waiting for you.’

  I started up the stairs, my heart pumping in anticipation. The kidnapper followed me, his gun pointing at my back. There was no carpet on the upstairs landing, just wooden floorboards of polished oak. All the doors were closed. When I saw the loft hatch my spirits lifted.

  He ordered me to step aside while he picked up a short wooden pole that was resting against the wall. He raised it to the hatch, hooked the end through a ring and pulled it downwards. The hatch opened and an aluminium ladder slid gracefully out.

  He pulled it to the floor. ‘I’ll go first. Stand well back.’

  He moved quickly and a little awkwardly. He was carrying a fair amount of weight, I noticed. Bulkier than me but not by much. I watched him mount the ladder quickly. When he was in the loft he beckoned me to follow with a quick flick of his wrist.

  My entire body buzzed with trepidation as I climbed up. But the moment I stepped into the loft space I saw Maggie and Laura. They were cowering against a wall, their bodies bathed in the soft, orange glow from a single naked light bulb.

  When Maggie saw me she called out my name. The relief surged through me like a wave of molten lava.

  As Maggie rose to her feet I saw that she was chained to one of the wooden uprights. It was a gut-wrenching sight. My wife chained up like an animal. It made me want to throw myself at the monster responsible.

  Instead, I stepped gingerly across the patchwork of chipboard floor sections to my wife and daughter.

  Maggie sobbed when I reached her. ‘Oh my God, Danny. I didn’t think I would ever see you again.’

  The tape around my wrists stopped me from embracing her, so she did the honours, throwing her arms around me and pulling me against her.

  We both cried uncontrollably for about half a minute and I became completely lost in the explosion of emotion. Then I felt something tugging at my trouser leg. Looking down, I saw my daughter’s pale, tear-soaked face staring up at me. I dropped to my knees and she threw herself at me, burying her head against my sternum. It was a feeling the like of which I had never experienced. Intense and overwhelming. We were back together as a family.

  ‘Daddy’s here now, sweetheart,’ I said. ‘Don’t you worry. Everything will be all right.’

  Her little body shuddered and she tried unsuccessfully to speak as she cried. Maggie dropped to her knees to join us, sweeping us both up in her arms. The three of us clung to one another and sobbed. But the wave of euphoria didn’t last long. The kidnapper destroyed the moment, just as I knew he would.

  ‘There’s a chain hanging from the upright to your left,’ he said. ‘A pair of handcuffs attached. Get your wife to snap one cuff over your wrist. Then you can remove the tape.’

  I briefly considered not doing it because I knew that once I was cuffed our chances of surviving this were greatly diminished. The only alternative was to rush him, but that didn’t seem sensible, seeing that he was holding a gun and my hands were tied. So we complied. Maggie snapped the cuff on my left wrist; thankfully the chain was a good five feet in length which allowed me some movement.

  Maggie got the tape off using her teeth and nails, then I embraced them both, squeezing them so hard that at any other time they would have complained that I was too rough.

  ‘Here’s some food and water,’ the kidnapper said. He threw the rucksack across the loft. It landed next to us with a heavy thud.

  ‘I’ll be back soon,’ he said. ‘Meanwhile, you can scream your lungs out but there’s nobody around to hear.’

  The light from the hall below washed up over his body, creating the most frightening image I had ever seen.

  ‘What are you going to do with us?’ I asked.

  He stepped back towards the open hatch and put one foot down on to the top rung of the ladder.

  ‘I told you, I’m going to keep you here until I decide it’s safe to claim the lottery winnings. Then I’m going to let you go.’

  ‘But if you let us go now I give you my word we won’t say anything to the police,’ I said. ‘We don’t care about the money.’

  ‘But I do care about it,’ he said. ‘And I want to make sure I get to spend it.’

  ‘The police are not stupid,’ I said, the anger rising in me. ‘They’ll find you. The cottage was a mess and I guarantee that you left a shitload of clues.’

  He gave a caustic laugh. ‘If that’s the case then why are you their number one suspect?’

  On that note he lowered himself through the hatch and pulled the cover down behind him.

  20

  In the briefing room there were now photos pinned to presentation boards of Vince Mayo’s body. All in gory colour. Various notes were scribbled above and below them.

  More officers had been roused from their beds and called in. Murders were rare in Southampton and the excitement they generated was intense. But this case was bigger and more emotive than most. It was already causing a stir way beyond anything the team had experienced in years.

  After returning from the service station Temple called everyone together. He filled them in on what had just happened with the mobile phones. There were murmurs of disbelief.

  ‘The bastard must have known that we were homing in on them,’ Brayshaw said.

  ‘He was playing safe is my guess,’ Temple said. ‘It’s common knowledge these days that we can pinpoint a phone’s position.’

  Brayshaw shook his head. ‘Even so it was pretty smart of him.’

  ‘The important thing is we now have to assume that Cain and his wife are back together,’ Temple said. ‘But we don’t know in what circumstances. She might be a party to what’s going on or she might be in the gravest danger, along with the child.’

  He pointed to one of the pictures from the Cain house. ‘This is Laura Cain. She’s six years old.’

  It was the kind of photograph that all parents cherish. A little girl wearing a pretty dress and a huge natural smile.

  ‘She hasn’t been seen since her grandmother dropped her back at home at about five o’clock,’ Temple said. ‘There’s growing cause for concern for both her and her mother.’

  Temple then asked for updates. He was told that no cash or jewellery had been found in Mayo’s cottage during a second search of the place. Did that mean the killer had made off with them?

  Temple was told that Maggie Cain’s mother lived in Fareham, close to Southampton. A car was on its way there now. However, there was still no word on any of Dann
y Cain’s blood relatives, or Mayo’s next of kin.

  Temple then divided the officers into teams of two and gave them specific tasks, one task being a trawl of CCTV cameras around the murder scene and Cain’s house.

  ‘This case is developing fast,’ he said. ‘The evidence is so far suggesting that Cain killed his partner. Now he’s leading us a merry dance. We need to find him quickly because God only knows what state of mind he’s in and what level of threat he poses to his family and everyone else.’

  Marsha Rowe was the only employee of the Southern News Agency. She was a frumpy, overweight woman in her forties with a narrow face and prematurely greying hair that was tied up in a bun at the back of her head. She looked tired and nervous and had clearly been crying.

  Temple thanked her for coming to the station at such an early hour and escorted her to his office. Once she was seated, a uniformed officer was dispatched to fetch her a cup of tea.

  ‘Please don’t be nervous, Mrs Rowe,’ Temple said. ‘This is very informal. I just want to ask you some questions about Mr Mayo.’

  ‘It’s Miss,’ she said in a low, nasally voice. ‘I’m not married.’

  Temple apologized.

  ‘The policeman who came to get me told me that Vince had been murdered,’ she said. ‘Is it true?’

  ‘It happened at his cottage in the New Forest,’ Temple said. ‘Last evening between about eight and ten.’

  She put the cup down. Closed her eyes briefly and breathed deeply through her nose. ‘It’s awful,’ she said. ‘A tragedy.’

  ‘Were you close to Mr Mayo?’ Temple asked.

  ‘As close as a secretary can be. I’ve worked for the agency since it started. I do all the admin and answer the phone, not that it rings that often. They’ve been good to me.’ She paused as a thought struck her. ‘Oh, Lord. Does Danny know yet? He’ll be beside himself.’

  ‘Were they close, Miss Rowe? Mr Cain and Mr Mayo.’

  She nodded. ‘They were like brothers. Very rarely argued, except when Danny lectured Vince about his gambling.’