by Faith Martin
She reached for a random file. It was the one that dealt with the crosses that had been sent to her during her last investigation. She studied the photographs of them – all crude, obviously handmade wooden crosses, with the initials of the three missing girls burned into them.
Of course, none of them was missing any longer, though, she thought with a triumphant smile of satisfaction. Gilly was with her parents right now, probably being stuffed full of coconut cake and Meg Vickary was living it large in Spain. And at some point, she’d have to inform Judy Yelland’s parents about her fate, and the thought of returning to that cold, loveless house depressed her. Then she remembered Mrs Yelland’s plea for information, and knew she had to go back there soon.
But not right now. She was simply feeling too drained. Besides, it was better to wait for official confirmation of ID.
Her eyes rested on the last photograph – the last cross to be delivered to her. She’d found it waiting for her on the doorstep of a witness she’d gone back to question, unlike the other two, which had been delivered—
Her thoughts suddenly came to a scratching halt.
The cross had been waiting for her on the doorstep of the witness. She hadn’t found it after she’d interviewed her witness, so Tom Warrington hadn’t been following her, or watched her go into a house and then left the cross on the doorstep for when she’d come out. No. The cross had been waiting for her before she’d entered the house.
It could mean only one thing.
‘Bloody hell!’ Hillary yelped and, grabbing the photo, shot through into the other office. Jimmy looked up, took one look at her taunt face and blazing eyes, and froze. Hillary stared at him, and shook her head. Then she looked across at Sam.
‘Sam,’ she said, her voice whipping across the room as hard as diamonds. Jimmy wasn’t surprised to see the lad go suddenly pale. ‘On our last case, did you tell anyone about our movements?’
‘Guv?’ Sam gulped.
‘Did you discuss it with any of your mates?’ she demanded impatiently. ‘Do you have any friends here on the force?’
‘Some, guv,’ Sam said, clearly bewildered. ‘But I never discuss our cases with them. You told me not to.’
Hillary took a deep shaking breath. Yes, she had told him that. And he would have obeyed her, he was a good lad. Jimmy wouldn’t have talked, and she knew damned well she hadn’t, and that Steven hadn’t.
Besides, Tom Warrington was a ladies man, or thought of himself as such and so…. Hillary went suddenly cold. She was aware that Jimmy had come to stand beside her, and had taken the photograph from her hand. It’s significance made no sense to him but standing beside her he could tell she was as tense as a drawn bowstring. She was almost vibrating with it.
‘What’s up, guv?’
But Hillary was staring, wide-eyed and white as milk, at Vivienne’s still empty seat.
‘Where the hell,’ she finally croaked, ‘is Vivienne?’
CHAPTER TWELVE
‘She’s probably just running late,’ Sam said, then blushed as he realized how stupid that sounded. If true, she’d be running almost a whole day late. ‘Or perhaps she’s not well and isn’t coming in today,’ he corrected.
‘Did she seem unwell yesterday?’ Hillary demanded, her voice still incredibly tight. Something in her eye made the young lad pale.
‘Not really,’ he admitted softly.
Hillary turned on her heel and headed for Steven’s office, Jimmy right behind her. She knocked but went straight in. Steven was on the phone, but after one surprised look at her tight, white face, quickly ended the conversation and hung up.
‘I think we have a problem. With Vivienne,’ she said.
Steven blinked. Of course they had a problem with the girl, he thought, she was totally unsuitable, but now hardly seemed to be the time to deal with it. Geoff Rhumer and his team were currently tracking down a hot lead on where Tom Warrington might have parked his new camper van, and they still had Deakin to process.
As if reading his thoughts, Hillary shook her head impatiently. ‘No, I mean a real problem. She hasn’t shown up today. I think she’s been feeding Tom Warrington information on my cases.’
Behind her, Jimmy muttered something, and Steven got to his feet. ‘Think or know?’ he said flatly. He knew Hillary wasn’t the sort to throw around unsubstantiated accusations.
‘I should have realized it before. She’s got a new fella. She’s been sort of hinting and bragging about him for a bit, but I haven’t been taking any notice. If I had, I might have wondered why, if he was so hot, she hadn’t found a way to introduce him to us and show off.’
Steven shrugged. ‘That’s hardly proof she’s been seeing Warrington,’ he pointed out.
‘Of course it isn’t,’ Hillary said irritably. She was feeling sick to her stomach, and knew she had to get it together fast. ‘It was the last of the crosses that did it. I should have realized before. You remember, the one that was waiting for me on the doorstep of the witness in our last case? I went to interview her and it was waiting for me.’
‘Right. So?’
‘It was waiting for me when I arrived,’ Hillary repeated. And when both Steven and Jimmy looked at her, puzzled, stressed again, ‘It was waiting for me on the doorstep. So how did Warrington know where I was going in order to get there ahead of me and plant it?’
Jimmy swore, and instantly twigged. ‘Somebody must have told him.’
‘I didn’t,’ Hillary snapped. ‘Did you?’
‘Hell, no. And not the lad either,’ Jimmy said, glanced at Steven and then swore again. ‘It had to have been Vivienne.’
‘What do we know about our stalker – about Warrington?’ Hillary pressed, and this time it was Steven who answered.
‘He likes the ladies. If he were looking for a weak link in your team, he’d go for a woman first. A young and pretty one like Vivienne would be bound to catch his eye.’
‘And Warrington’s good looking, fit and on the job. Vivienne would have been easy prey. She hasn’t come in to work today, although she’s due; and she hasn’t called in sick, or I would have been notified. Add to that mix the fact that Warrington hasn’t shown up either and….’ She paused and took a deep breath. But the sick feeling in her stomach roiled uneasily. She didn’t say it, but then she didn’t need to. Everyone in the room was thinking the same thing.
If Hillary was right, then the girl could be dead already. They all knew that Warrington had been working himself up to actually killing someone, ever since he’d taken a knife to Hillary’s throat. Vivienne, being under Hillary’s supervision, was the ideal target. What could be more satisfying for him, and the sick, twisted games that he was playing, than to snatch one of Hillary’s own, right from under her nose?
‘Oh shit,’ Jimmy said softly. Then jumped, as the door to Steven’s office burst open and Rhumer shot in.
‘We think we’ve found him,’ he said, too excited by his own news to sense the atmosphere in the room. ‘A neighbour of the Warringtons is a drinking buddy with a local farmer. Apparently, he lets Warrington use a bit of scrap land in one of his fields. He reckons it deters tractor thieves and sheep rustlers, would you believe it, to have a copper in uniform seen regularly on his land. And we’re looking for a cheap, rent-free place where Warrington might have parked his van, right?’
‘Where is it,’ Steven snapped, reaching for his coat.
‘Not a couple of miles away,’ Rhumer said, flushed with success.
‘Right, let’s go and check it out. Bring a couple of your team with you,’ Steven said. ‘Grab some field-glasses. We’re going in softly softly. First we need to see if a van is there, and if it is, if it’s occupied. We might have a hostage situation,’ he added, as Geoff opened his mouth to ask why they just didn’t go in mob-handed and nab him, as he’d been expecting Steven to suggest.
‘What? Who?’ he spluttered.
Steven turned and put a hand out towards Hillary and Jimmy who were both set to foll
ow him. ‘No way,’ Steven said flatly. ‘You two stay here.’ He turned and hurried out, Rhumer still shooting questions at him as he did so.
Hillary stood silently, counting to ten. Beside her, Jimmy shifted restlessly. When she’d finished counting, she said, ‘Right then, Jimmy, let’s go. We’ll take your car – Steven knows mine.’
Jimmy gulped. ‘We’re going to follow them then, guv?’ he said needlessly.
‘’Course we are. Or rather, I am,’ she qualified, turning to give him a small smile. ‘I wouldn’t blame you if you decided to stay here.’
Jimmy gave her a small smile back. ‘Yeah, right, guv,’ he said. And then muttered, ‘What’s the super gonna do? Fire me? I’m already retired, right?’
But Hillary had already gone, and Jimmy swore again as he hurried out after her.
‘We’d better not turn off up the farm track, guv,’ Jimmy said, ten minutes later as he pulled off to the side of a narrow lane. They’d followed the superintendent’s car down ever more isolated country roads until they’d seen Rhumer get out and open a five-barred gate, where a stone-track led through a field just turning green with wheat.
Hillary agreed. Steven would be bound to spot them if they stayed in the vehicle. ‘How do you feel about a nice country walk in the sunshine then?’ she asked cheerfully.
Jimmy grunted. About as good as he felt about disobeying a super’s direct orders, indulging in an unauthorized pursuit, and then sneaking up on a possibly armed subject with a possible hostage. All without back-up.
‘Always was a nature lover me, guv,’ he forced himself to say, just as cheerfully. There was, after all, no way he could let her go alone as he knew she would. If Vivienne was in danger, he knew that Hillary would hold herself responsible, regardless of how inane that was. Besides, she wasn’t the sort to abandon one of her own. And neither was he. If the worst did come to the worst…. well, who the hell wanted to live to grow really old anyway? Jimmy remembered his own grandfather falling prey to senility and decay and shuddered.
Nah, he thought, closing the car door with the quietest of clicks and falling in behind Hillary as she made for a hedge and quickly walked, half-ducked, alongside it towards a stand of scrappy trees in a hollow. When it came right down to it, he’d rather go out with a bang than a whimper any day.
Ahead, Hillary crouched down, and pointed. Off to one side of the field, just before it came to the crest of a slight ridge in the field, she pointed to Steven’s car. From their position, they could see Steven and Rhumer, and two of his men surveying the small copse with binoculars. Not that they needed them, for, even from this distance, Hillary and Jimmy could easily see a squarish-shaped blob of white that had to be a camper van parked within.
Hillary quickly surveyed the area and thought rapidly.
‘Steven’s going to call in for armed back up,’ she said softly. ‘And probably a hostage negotiator.’ It was standard procedure.
Jimmy gulped again. ‘Heavy stuff, guv,’ he agreed nervously.
‘And if Vivienne is in there, and if she’s still alive, how do you think Warrington will react to suddenly finding himself surrounded?’ she asked. ‘Think for a moment. He’s made his move, he’s got Vivienne, and either he’s already killed her and is gloating over it, in which case, getting caught straight away is seriously going to dent his pride and send him bug-eyed crazy, or he hasn’t actually done the deed yet, and is about to be stopped before finally fulfilling his life-time obsession.’
‘Which will also send him bug-eyed crazy,’ Jimmy agreed, nodding glumly. ‘Either way he hasn’t got anything to lose, has he?’ he asked helplessly.
‘No he hasn’t,’ Hillary agreed. ‘If he’s armed, he’ll choose to go out in a blaze of glory. His type always do,’ she said flatly. ‘How many times do we see it happen? A cornered rat turning on anyone and anything in its path?’
‘If he isn’t armed and Vivienne’s still alive, he’ll kill her before being taken down, otherwise, he’ll go down as an utter loser and a total tosser,’ Jimmy predicted. ‘A miserable, wannabe serial killer, who couldn’t even take out one captured female victim. His ego will never take it.’
Hillary sighed noisily. ‘But Steven has to play it by the book. So he’ll wait for back-up and a hostage negotiator. And in the meantime, Vivienne….’ But she didn’t say what could be happening to Vivienne in that camper van right now. She couldn’t even let herself think about it, because if she did, she wouldn’t be able to function. And she needed to function now – she needed to think clearly and choose her options, and make rational decisions like she never had before.
Without a word she turned and, crouched below hedge level, went back to the car.
‘You’ve got stuff in the boot?’ she asked, and Jimmy, not needing any clarification, nodded, almost feeling insulted.
‘’Course I have,’ he said, opening it up. He’d been one of those keeping watch on Hillary’s boat at night, and he wouldn’t have done so without having something handy.
Hillary gazed down at the display. There was the good old heavy truncheon, a tyre iron, illegal pepper spray, and an even more illegal taser gun.
She didn’t bother asking the old-timer where he’d managed to get that.
She picked it up and hefted it in her hand. ‘Fully charged, right?’
‘Yep.’
She nodded, thought about it for a moment, and then handed it over to him. Surprised, Jimmy took it. He’d expected her to want to hold on to it – it was the most effective weapon in the arsenal. Instead, she reached for the pepper spray and put it into the large pocket of her russet-coloured jacket, where it made barely a bulge.
‘We don’t have much time,’ she said flatly. ‘Let’s hope Warrington’s in there and that he hasn’t spotted Steven and the others yet. There’s no reason he should have – the car’s out of his eyeline.’
Hillary turned, and headed counter-clockwise to the way they’d previously gone. Quickly, steadily, they crept up and around the side of the small copse, edging closer to the white van. When they were almost level with it, and on the far side from where Steven and Rhumer were watching them, she hunkered down.
All the time they’d been creeping closer, she’d been thinking.
What they’d needed was a fairly simple plan that stood a good chance of working. Well, she didn’t know if she’d come up with one of those, but she was sure that she’d come up with something that gave Vivienne Tyrell a better chance of living through this than an assault by an armed response unit – always provided she was still alive.
They needed a distraction out front, and a sneaky incursion from the rear. And there was only one person that she knew of who could distract Tom Warrington from whatever he was currently doing inside the van.
She felt sick. Her heart was racing. But it had to be done.
She took a long, slow breath. ‘OK, Jimmy, here’s what we’re going to do.’
Steven Crayle slowly lowered his binoculars and swore. Beside him, Geoff Rhumer looked at him and saw that his superior officer had gone quite white. ‘What? Have you spotted movement inside?’ he asked, but realized that the superintendent hadn’t even been looking at the camper van. He’d been distracted by something on the other side of the site.
‘No,’ Steven said, crouching down behind the car. ‘Look, stay here and wait for the armed response team. Fill them in on all we have and tell them not to do anything without a direct order from me.’ He checked that his radio was turned to its lowest noise setting, and shoved it down further into his pocket.
‘What? Where are you going?’ a thoroughly rattled Geoff Rhumer hissed, as he watched his superior officer scuttle away.
‘Just do as I said,’ Steven hissed back, and took off at a low running crouch. Behind him, the two officers with Rhumer watched him go.
‘Shall we follow him, guv?’ one of them asked uncertainly. Like the DI, they weren’t happy to see the man in charge suddenly disappear.
‘What?
No. You heard our orders,’ Geoff said, his palms going sweaty. He had no idea what had just happened, but one thing was for sure: if things started to go pear-shaped, nobody was going to be able to point the finger at him. Steven Crayle was the officer in charge, after all. The buck stopped with him.
Rhumer, the sweat popping out on his brow, looked over the fields towards the main roads. How much longer was the armed response unit going to be?
Steven Crayle, his heart in his mouth, worked quickly around towards the back of the woods.
In front of him, coming from the opposite direction, he caught the occasional glimpse of Jimmy Jessop, using every bit of available cover, and sometimes going down on his belly to crawl across the ridges of growing wheat, as he sneaked up towards the back of the van.
But where the hell was Hillary?
When he’d first spotted movement on the other side of the site, and saw Jessop through his viewfinder, he knew that Hillary had to be here somewhere. He didn’t stop to question the whys and wherefores. Not now. He only knew that he had to find her and intercept her before she put herself in harm’s way.
He cursed silently and got down on all fours himself and began edging his way towards Jessop. He should have known that she wouldn’t stay safely back at HQ. Damn it, he should have understood at once that she’d see it as her duty to try and save Tyrell herself.
He thought he saw the van move slightly, and froze. He noticed that Jimmy had seen the same thing, and was now likewise hugging the dirt.
Yes. There was definitely a slight rocking movement, as if someone was moving around.
Then he heard it. The sound of the door opening.
Great! If Warrington was leaving, then they might just be able to grab him without any fuss.
And then Steven Crayle’s heart almost stopped beating as he heard a familiar feminine voice say clearly and calmly, ‘Hello, Tom.’
