Captor

by Anita Waller

  ‘I meant we were careful not to let other people know. We couldn’t – Phil was my client. I would have lost my job; Phil’s marriage would have fallen apart… it was all too much to contemplate.’

  ‘And you loved him? No wonder you haven’t cried for Dad.’

  She knew Dan was deliberately hurting her. ‘Dan, if you think I haven’t cried for your dad, then you couldn’t be more wrong. I miss him so much, yet he was the one who strayed in the end.’

  ‘Of course he did. Dad wasn’t stupid. He can do maths. He goes away for six weeks, comes home and then you announce you’re pregnant. The baby arrives early with a healthy weight on him – no, Dad wasn’t daft. I bet anything this was payback time for him.’

  She stared at him, this son who had become a stranger in such a short space of time.

  ‘And what about his wife? Rosie did you say? And his little girl?’

  ‘He thought his marriage was over.’

  ‘I bet his wife didn’t.’ Dan paused and stared at Liz. ‘Mum, leave me alone. I need to digest this. I’m assuming you’ve only told me because this is going to come out if it ever goes to court?’

  She nodded, misery etched across her features. ‘Please, Dan…’

  ‘Go, Mum. I’ve things to do. I need to think this through. On my own.’

  She stood and looked at him, his arms wrapped around his knees as he sat on his bed. ‘I’ll be downstairs. If you want to talk…’

  The look he gave her wasn’t a good look.

  She closed the door quietly behind her, and headed downstairs. She picked up the receiver and rang Brent.

  ‘Liz?’ DI Brent answered at the first ring.

  ‘I’ve told him.’ She knew her voice sounded dead.

  ‘And?’

  ‘And he’s thinking things through, on his own, in his bedroom. We’ll get through it… I hope. I rang to see if there’s any news.’

  ‘Only that we can release your husband’s body. I haven’t told Christian Fremantle he can sort out his mum’s funeral yet, so don’t make it public knowledge.’

  ‘I won’t. I contact a funeral director?’

  ‘Yes, it becomes a more normal death. You simply do anything you would have done if Gareth had died of, say, a heart attack. The only difference with the funeral is that there will be an undercover police presence, unless we track Jake and Philip Latimer before that.’

  ‘You definitely think they’re together?’

  ‘I do, but I’m pretty sure they’ve both been taken. I don’t think Latimer took Jake. He hasn’t used any banking facilities for months, hasn’t used his phone… no, somebody else has them both. Whoever has them is no dumbo. The couple of calls made to your phone, and the texts we believe have been sent by the kidnapper, have all triangulated on the city centre. A smart move. It tells us nothing.’

  She sighed. ‘Thank you for updating me. Every day I wake up and think this is the day Jake will come home, and I’m slowly losing heart.’

  ‘We’re doing everything we can. I believe this one will be solved by technology – he or she will slip up one day, and we’ll track the error. We have some smart cookies on our computers, so don’t give up on your little one, Liz.’

  ‘Thank you,’ she responded quietly. ‘I’ll be in touch when I’ve sorted out the funeral date.’

  She stared out into the darkening sky, and slowly sobs engulfed her. She leaned her brow against the window pane, her hands on the window sill. And then she felt arms go around her and hold her.

  ‘Come on,’ Dan said. ‘We’ll get through this. Together.’

  She turned around and held on to him.

  One of the surveillance officers turned to the other and nodded towards the bay window of the house they were watching. ‘Wouldn’t want to be in their shoes for a million pounds.’

  ‘Me neither,’ the other one agreed. ‘Fancy some pizza?’

  Christian Fremantle felt sick. He had been told he could return home, and from the outside it all looked normal. Once inside, he realised life would never be normal again. His childhood home felt strangely bereft.

  The stair carpet had been lifted and taken away. He had been warned to expect that, but even so, it came as a shock. He had dismissed his family liaison officer within a day of her arrival, but he wished he hadn’t been quite so hasty. He was truly on his own, and maybe a little company would have eased his return.

  He walked around the house, feeling as if he didn’t know it at all, despite living in this same place all his life. His bed was rumpled, and he assumed somebody had sat on it during the investigation. His mother’s bed had been stripped of all bedding, as had the cot she had used for Jake. He had decisions to make. Sell or keep?

  He doubted it would sell – not at the moment anyway. Who would want to buy a house where there had been a double murder? Maybe in a few years, but certainly not now. And maybe in a few years it would form part of any decisions he would need to make, after finishing at Solent.

  He gathered up his duvet and pillow and took them down to the lounge. He would text the friends who had given him sleeping space over the last few days, thank them, and say he was back at home. That night, he would be on a different sofa – his own.

  After checking the contents of the fridge, he walked down to the shops. Two people spoke to him as he headed down the road, expressing their condolences; he responded with a nod, a smile and a thank you. His brain wasn’t engaged enough for any more than that. It was only as he passed by Liz Chambers’ house that he faltered. He looked over towards it, hesitated, then crossed the road. The shop could wait a few minutes.

  Liz saw him speak to her bodyguards, then walk down the drive. Her door was open before he reached it.

  ‘Come in, Christian,’ she said quietly. ‘How are you?’

  ‘That’s what I came to ask you,’ he said equally quietly. ‘I’m going to the shop…’

  ‘Have you time for a drink?’

  He nodded. ‘Just water, thanks. How’s Dan?’

  ‘He’s doing okay. We both had a bit of a meltdown last night, but it seemed like a turning point. We’ll get past this, somehow. How are you?’

  He sat down on the sofa, and shrugged. ‘I’ve stopped feeling so bloody angry.’

  ‘Good. You’ve been back home?’

  He nodded again. ‘It’s awful. And I do realise your memories of how it looked must be really bad, but that was my home. Now it’s empty. Who would have thought a missing stair carpet would make all that difference?’

  Liz sat down by his side. ‘It’s not the missing stair carpet, Christian. It’s the missing mum. The stair carpet can be replaced.’

  ‘I know it can. It seems to symbolise everything.’ He looked so miserable; Liz placed her arm around his shoulder and pulled him close.

  ‘If I can do anything to help…’

  He gave a short bark of laughter. ‘You’ve lost even more than me. Is there any news…?’

  ‘On Jake?’ She shook her head. ‘Nothing. He’s alive, though. I know he’s alive.’ She stood. ‘I’ll get you that water. Have you had breakfast?’

  ‘Not for about four days, no,’ he smiled.

  ‘Bacon sandwich?’

  ‘Thank you.’

  The smell of the bacon grilling brought a sleepy-eyed Dan downstairs, shocked at cooking being done by someone else.

  ‘Mum…?’

  ‘Don’t panic, Dan,’ she smiled. ‘Bacon sandwich? I’m already doing one for Christian. He’s in the lounge.’

  Dan rubbed his eyes, stared at his mum and headed for the lounge.

  Liz could hear the two of them talking. Two young men who had shared massive trauma in their lives; they were uniting over bacon sandwiches.

  She carried their breakfasts through, and then excused herself. ‘I need to do something normal. I’m going up to strip the beds, now Tanya has left us.’

  ‘Don’t do mine, Mum. It’s got notes all over it. I’ll sort it today, I promise.’

  S
he smiled as she walked upstairs. She could hear the two young men speaking and knew they would have things in common. Probably gaming.

  Fifteen minutes later, post bacon sandwiches, she heard them continuing the conversation while climbing the stairs before going to Dan’s room.

  Dan’s voice was then most noticeable as he explained things to Christian, and then there was silence, interspersed by cries of success or failure as they worked their way through various levels.

  Liz couldn’t for the life of her understand the attraction of gaming, but right at that moment she felt grateful for anything that took their minds off the tragedy of the situation they found themselves living in, through no fault of their own.

  She finished making up Jake’s cot, then carried all the bundles of laundry downstairs.

  She fed Christian at lunchtime as well, and when he went home mid-afternoon, he apologised.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I blamed you and your family for all my troubles, but I was wrong. You’re as much innocent of anything as I am. The man who killed your husband and my mum is to blame.’

  ‘You think it’s a man?’

  ‘Only because it’s normally a man. It seems, according to DI Brent, that there’s no clear indication of either sex. Would a woman do this?’

  ‘Possibly,’ Liz admitted. ‘Some of my cases have been women who killed. Don’t close your mind to the killer being female.’

  ‘But why kill two people to get one baby? Surely, with a baby, it’s pretty easy to grab them from a pram? Or am I wrong?’

  Liz smiled. ‘I think you’d still have to kill whoever was pushing the pram. If somebody tried to snatch Jake from me, they’d have to kill me to stop me fighting back.’

  Christian frowned. ‘So, have you upset somebody?’

  ‘Not that I know of. We’ve been through files from work and I’ve wracked my brain to think of anybody who has cause to hate me, but come up blank.’

  ‘Rosie hates you,’ Dan called from the kitchen.

  ‘Rosie?’

  ‘Phil Latimer’s wife,’ Liz said. ‘And she doesn’t hate me. I almost think she understands…’ Her voice trailed away as she realised Christian knew nothing of the complications surrounding Jake.

  He waited, but when she didn’t continue, he turned to leave.

  ‘Thanks, Dan,’ he called. ‘See you soon.’

  She watched as he crossed the road, finally heading towards the shop. She knew one day he would get on with his life, probably leave Sheffield behind him, but he still had to reach that stage. For now, he was hurting.

  37

  37

  * * *

  Darkness had fallen. Captor hesitated before leaving, turned, and headed back towards the dumb waiter. Loading everything available into it, the contraption moved for the last time downwards.

  Phil heard the clank of the chain, and put Jake into his cot. He crossed to the cupboard door, and quickly removed everything that was in it. Several bottles of water, three packets of biscuits, even a bar of chocolate. Teabags, four milk cartons, baby food… He stared in horror at the assortment of goods.

  It felt like the last supper.

  The contraption clanked as it returned to its normal level, and Phil automatically stored away the goods, his mind spinning. This shouldn’t have happened until after Jake’s next sleep, a long sleep which told Phil it was night-time.

  Captor parked in the lay-by and sat for a moment in the car. Contemplation of what was to come was inevitable, but not scary. It would be far scarier if a long prison sentence came into the equation. Affairs had been put in order, the time was approaching, and an extra five minutes added on to life was acceptable.

  Finally, reaching into the boot, Captor picked up the small backpack, strapped it onto both shoulders, and left the warmth and comfort of the car behind. The path had been walked several times over the last couple of weeks; the way was known. One glance backwards, as if maybe a consideration of a mind change, then endgame.

  The keys to the small locked room housing Phil Latimer and his son sailed through the night air and landed high in a tree. The rain was relentless, and Captor pulled up the hood and walked.

  Liz Chambers, payback time.

  38

  Tuesday morning saw Liz wake up with a banging headache, and a sick feeling in her stomach. Today was the day when she had to make the arrangements for Gareth’s funeral, and she wasn’t convinced that Dan would want to go with her.

  She peeked through the bedroom curtains before heading to the bathroom, saw it was raining heavily, and almost went back to bed.

  She stood under the shower for longer than normal, allowing the water to batter her head and face, and felt marginally more like a human being once dressed. She could hear Dan having a shower, so waited until he joined her downstairs before asking if he was still okay to go with her.

  ‘Of course I am.’ He gave her a hug. ‘You don’t seriously think I’d let you go through this on your own?’

  They didn’t talk much over breakfast; neither of them wanted the bowl of cornflakes, both of them forced it down their throats.

  They left the house, despite Liz’s protestations, in the back of the police car. The two officers said they would feel happier with both their charges in the back seat, than if they had to follow Liz and Dan through innumerable sets of traffic lights as they travelled in Liz’s car to the funeral home. They did give Liz the option of checking it out with DI Brent, but she wisely declined and gave in to their requests that felt like instructions.

  A little over an hour later, they were back home; Gareth’s body had been collected the day before and was in the funeral home being prepared for viewing. Liz arranged to go to the Chapel of Rest the following day, and to her relief, Dan declined to accompany her.

  He said nothing until they were back in the house.

  ‘I can’t go to see Dad, Mum.’

  ‘That’s fine. be sure, is all I ask, because after next Tuesday you won’t have that option.’ She touched his cheek lightly. ‘Your decision, my love.’

  ‘I’d rather remember him how he was.’ Dan’s tone was quite abrupt, and she watched as he left her to go to his room. He was angry. It wasn’t directed at her, more at the world, and how it all seemed to have gone pear-shaped at once.

  She took drinks out to the two officers, who she had to accept, reluctantly, had been the best option for getting to the funeral home; her head was everywhere, and she wasn’t really fit for driving.

  Liz was walking past the phone when it rang. She glanced at the number – she had long since ceased to expect it to be the kidnapper.

  ‘Hi, Tom,’ she said. ‘Is everything okay?’

  ‘Kind of. Can you and your phenomenal memory remember anything Oliver might have been going to do today?’

  She briefly glanced at the calendar to make sure she was linking her mind to an accurate date. ‘Not as far as I am aware. I take it he’s done his usual thing of not putting it in my diary?’

  Tom laughed. ‘Yes, he’s not been in today. I’ve tried his mobile, but I know he switches it off when he’s with a client, or in court. It’s not urgent, I don’t want to waste my time trying to find him if he’s not contactable for a specific reason. So, how are you?’

  ‘I’m okay. Aching to hold Jake again. Gareth’s funeral is next Tuesday at ten, Abbey Lane Cemetery. There’ll be drinks and a lunch afterwards, but I don’t know where, yet.’

  ‘We’ll be there, you know that, don’t you?’

  She stifled a sob. ‘Thank you. That means a lot. How is Karen doing?’

  ‘Very well. A little nervous, but that will pass. I seem to remember you being nervous, once…’

  ‘A long time ago,’ she said drily.

  ‘I miss you – we both do. But your job is safe, never doubt that. We have plans for you. At the new place.’

  ‘Tell me more,’ she said, trying to sound enthusiastic.

  ‘Not yet. But better times are coming, hold tha
t thought. If you need either of us for anything before next Tuesday, simply pick up the phone. Are you listening to me?’

  ‘Yes, boss. Speak to you soon,’ and she replaced the receiver, her lips curving into a smile for the first time that day. Tom Banton had always been able to cheer her up.

  Lynda Checkley rang later, ostensibly to ask if she was okay. Liz told her she had been to arrange Gareth’s funeral, and she was feeling far from okay, but coping. Lynda’s next comment surprised her.

  ‘I’ve been thinking…’ She hesitated. ‘I know we’ve all checked your files for any low-life folks who may have felt angry at you for them being in prison, but has anybody asked you if you’ve ever managed to upset somebody at work? Or anywhere else for that matter? People can bear grudges for a long time.’

  ‘At work?’ Liz paused for a moment, letting her mind roam back over the years. ‘There was only one – somebody who I upset by being promoted into Tom and Oliver’s next-door office. She thought she should have had the job. But she’s dead now anyway, died of cancer about three years ago. I really can’t think of anybody else.’

  Lynda sighed. ‘Okay, it was merely a thought. This is such a frustrating case. Nobody saw anything, nobody is reporting anything out of the ordinary, nothing.’

  ‘I’ll get my boy back, you know.’ Liz’s voice was strong. ‘He’ll come home to me.’

  ‘We’re all hoping for that outcome. Me especially. I have a son of the same age. I suffocate him with cuddles these days. It’s all too easy to think “there but for the grace of God”…’

  They disconnected the call, and Liz switched on the television. There was a small piece about the ongoing investigation; it was dying a natural death, through lack of results. She wanted to scream at them, to force them to keep Jacob Chambers’ name in the forefront of everyone’s mind; she didn’t want him forgotten. She switched it off in anger, irrational anger; she knew he wasn’t important to the rest of the world, just her and Dan, but she needed the rest of the world to keep searching for him.