Captor

by Anita Waller

  Sleep was intermittent for all the team; adrenalin was coursing through them when they assembled by five at the station. DI Brent gave them a briefing on the work that had been done at Banton and Hardwick the previous evening, and then he hand out photocopies of the lists.

  ‘I’ve split us into three teams, so each team will have two properties to search. Tanya has photocopies of who you’re with. Team 1 will take properties 1a and 1b, team 2 will take 2a and 2b, team 3 will take 3a and 3b. We have three minibuses outside. If you receive opposition from whoever is living in it, don’t mess about, bring them in. A few hours in a cell should sort them out. However, I don’t really expect Philip Latimer and Jacob Chambers to be held in an occupied property. I think it will be an empty one. If they are in an occupied one, it would suggest Oliver Hardwick was paying his tenant to take care of his prisoners. If that were to be the case, our victims could be in considerable danger, so anybody kicking up a stink, arrest them. Any questions?’

  He glanced around the room, and was impressed by the quiet determination present on all their faces. Tanya handed out the team listings, and they left the room, heading for their designated minibuses.

  Ten minutes later, the station car park was back to normal, not a minibus in sight.

  Brent had four people with him. He had included Lynda in his unit, aware that she hadn’t been on an operation like this before. He had also included Steve Peters; he liked the lad, and, as with Lynda, could see him climbing the ladder before much longer. Once this case was put to bed, he would have a chat with them both.

  Their first address was at High Green. He had checked on Google Earth during the long sleepless hours of the previous night, and it appeared to be a detached property. He could find no evidence that anyone lived there, and he was hopeful that this first address would be the right one.

  The minibus pulled up a short walk away from the house, and even in the dark of the winter’s morning they could see it was empty. The windows were boarded, and the grey stone walls seemed to be blackened by soot.

  ‘Looks like a fire-damaged property,’ Lynda whispered. ‘We need to be really careful in case floors are damaged.’

  Brent nodded. ‘Hold back, everybody. Let me see if I can get any information on this before we go in. If it is fire-damaged too badly, we may need the fire service here to get us in safely.’

  He thought for a moment. ‘Let’s go to our second property. Everybody back on the bus.’

  Two minutes later, they were heading for a small village on the outskirts of Rotherham. Thorpe Hesley boasted a mix of old and new properties, and it was one of the older ones they were heading towards. Brent spent the journey on the phone to the fire service, who confirmed it had been badly damaged some eight months earlier. They arranged to send out a team of firefighters, who would lead the way if it was deemed to be safe to venture inside it.

  Brent felt frustrated by the situation, but knew he couldn’t take risks; if the two missing persons were there, the fire service would soon find them, and much more efficiently than his own team.

  They reached Thorpe Hesley, and the sky was beginning to lighten. The house was set back from the road, and appeared to be empty. It had a sold sign in the garden, leaning precariously against a privet hedge, obviously forgotten by the estate agents. The five officers approached with caution, and then spread out as they looked through ground floor windows. There were no signs of life, so after two banging rattles on the door, and shouts of open up, police, Brent ordered that the door be opened.

  The team poured through the door, and began the search. Every room was empty, not even carpets were in existence. They clattered around, shouting Phil’s name, but there was no reaction.

  Eventually, Brent called a halt. ‘Okay, everyone, there’s nothing here. Let’s go back to the first one, the fire service people are at the scene.’ Two maintenance men were already outside the door, summoned by Brent, and they were boarding up the door by the time everyone was back on the minibus.

  They returned to Thorpe Hesley, and en route Brent took messages from the other two teams that their first properties were checked and clear. They were down to three possibilities only.

  They could enter the property at High Green, but only accompanied by fire officers. The cellar was reasonably untouched, and they searched it thoroughly before progressing to the other two levels. Nothing.

  Brent felt frustrated, and when the other two teams reported they had drawn blanks at their second properties, he ordered them all back to the station.

  They sent out for bacon sandwiches, and everyone had breakfast in the briefing room. Will took them through all the details of the morning, confirming that there had been no signs of occupation at five of the properties, with the second house allocated to team 3 the only one to have a tenant.

  Tanya filled them in on this residence, said the tenant was happy to cooperate, handing them keys to three outbuildings as well as a key to the cellar. They had found nothing, except a bit of a mini-brewery in one of the outbuildings. It was clearly for personal use, and they had thanked the man and his partner for his good humour so early in the morning, before leaving.

  Bacon sandwiches finished, they looked to Brent for instructions. He had none to give them.

  ‘Okay,’ he said. ‘Thank you, everybody, for your work this morning. While it may not have proved to be the answer, at least it’s ruled Hardwick’s properties out. Steve, how did you go on with tracking the brother down? And that construction company in Chesterfield. Did that throw anything up?’

  ‘Yes, sir, it threw up a lady owner, a Patricia Hardwick. And that’s as much as I know about her, but now this morning’s exercise is over, I’m back on to it. Update as soon as I know anything further.’

  Brent nodded. ‘Thank you. Thoughts, anyone?’

  It seemed the team were devoid of ideas. The adrenalin rush of maybe finding Latimer and the baby had seemingly dissipated, and the air of gloom felt all-pervading.

  ‘Okay. Every witness statement, every report, in fact any damn thing, I want re-checking. Even the tiniest snippet may give us the answer we’re looking for. Come on, team, we’re so close to cracking this, I can almost taste it. Further briefing with any thoughts at 4.30, then if there’s nothing to chase up, we can have an early night.’

  They drifted away to their desks, and Brent knew he could do no more to lift them. It would simply take a comment by one of them to lead them in a different direction; they would bounce back.

  50

  Jake had been crying constantly for a long time. Phil knew what was wrong, and the baby couldn’t be distracted. He was hungry. Not even Peppa and George could help with that; it would take more than two little pigs to comfort Jake.

  Phil had tried giving him a bottle of warm milk, and that had appeased him for a while, but the cries were becoming frenetic.

  Finally, he gave in. He handed one of the dessert pouches to his son, and watched as he gulped it down.

  When it was empty, fully drained of the sweet tasting pear, apple and banana, Jake threw it to one side. ‘Da,’ he said.

  Phil had no idea what da meant, but Jake seemed to say it a lot. He changed his nappy and put him down to sleep. The crying had tired him, and Phil guessed this was his night time sleep, a little earlier than normal, but Jake was ready.

  He was worried. His plans for making the baby food last for both of them, had survived one day. He couldn’t expect Jake to live on one pouch a day, it simply wasn’t enough.

  Phil had had his pouch, some revolting stuff that said it was Shepherd’s pie, and he vowed that if he ever got out of that place, he would ring up the manufacturers and tell them they had branded it incorrectly. His stomach was rumbling, and he nibbled on a small square of chocolate. There were only three pieces left. He had a tiny sip of milk, and then climbed into bed. Jake was asleep, and even Phil felt more comfortable, warmer. He wondered if the weather outside was turning milder, heralding the return of spring. He hop
ed to God they would both see summer.

  51

  Julia arrived at Liz’s home unannounced. Liz didn’t feel particularly warm towards her, and simply wanted the visit to end. With the funeral the next day, she could have done without having to be polite and welcoming to visitors. Especially Julia.

  ‘I had to come,’ Julia tried to explain.

  ‘Why? Because the man you married killed the man I’m burying tomorrow?’

  Liz knew she sounded harsh; she watched as Julia’s face crumpled.

  ‘I’m so so sorry,’ she sobbed. ‘I’d do anything to change things…’

  ‘Get me my son back home,’ Liz snapped. ‘Think, Julia. You must know somewhere else that Oliver could have hidden them. Surely he didn’t keep everything from you.’

  ‘I’ve told Brent everything I know, which, believe me, is very little. I certainly didn’t know about these six properties I apparently own, unless he’s left them to some bloody dog’s home, or something.’ Her voice became more strident. ‘I knew nothing, Liz, nothing. And I certainly didn’t know he was a murderer.’

  ‘Julia, go. I really don’t want to know how hard it is for you. And don’t come anywhere near the funeral service tomorrow.’

  Liz looked at her one-time friend, unable to say anything further. Julia turned and left, and Liz watched as she drove away. There was a squeal of brakes, a strident honking of at least two car horns, and Liz knew Julia was probably trying to drive through her tears. Liz turned away from the window, and felt a surge of anger towards Oliver Hardwick, it almost blotted out every other emotion in her.

  ‘Bit harsh, weren’t you?’ Dan was standing in the doorway watching her.

  ‘Harsh? She’s lucky I didn’t stab her.’

  ‘Mum, come on, this isn’t you.’ He moved into the room, and put his arms around her. ‘You’re not nasty, never have been.’

  ‘And I’ve never had my baby stolen before, either.’

  They stood for a while, holding on to each other, lost in their own individual thoughts.

  ‘I’ll be so glad when tomorrow is over,’ she eventually said.

  ‘Me too.’

  There was a knock at the door, and she spun around, expecting to see Julia once again.

  It wasn’t. DI Brent was there, on his own.

  Dan went to let him in, and whispered, ‘Don’t upset her. She’ll bite your head off.’

  DI Brent smiled. ‘She usually does. I’ll let you into a little secret – I don’t think she likes me much.’

  ‘You want a drink?’

  ‘I’ll have a water, Dan, thanks. I’m only here because I was passing, and I thought I’d see how you’re both doing. Tomorrow will be hard.’

  ‘Mum’s in the lounge. I’ll bring your water through.’

  Liz didn’t say anything, just waited for him to speak.

  ‘We had six properties to check, Liz. Six damned properties, and I felt sure we would find them, but nothing. A complete waste of time.’

  She sighed. ‘No, it wasn’t. You ruled them out. And I am really grateful for everything you and your team are doing. I know I can be a bit of a cow, but it’s only when I get defensive where my family are concerned.’

  ‘He never mentioned a holiday home, or anything like that? I asked Mrs Hardwick, but she looks blank. I think he kept her in the dark about everything, but you were in a unique position at work. He never asked you to do any work on another home, might not even be in this country?’

  She shook her head. ‘Nothing. He really was a private man, spoke only about work. Totally different to Tom, and yet I liked him. It’s why I’m having such a problem coming to terms with what he did. And it’s why I didn’t recognise him on that CCTV footage. He would never dress like that, for a start. And yet the figure was him, I see it now. Right size, right way of walking. It was the hoodie that threw me. If only I’d seen it at the time…’

  ‘None of us saw it, and yet we’d all met Oliver Hardwick by then, so don’t beat yourself up about it. His wife even went so far as to say we’d got the wrong man, he would never have worn leisure wear, and definitely not a hoodie.’

  Dan brought in the glass of water for Brent. ‘Mum? Drink?’

  ‘No, I’m fine, thank you, sweetheart.’

  She watched as Brent took a strip of tablets from his pocket, and popped two into his hand. ‘Not well?’ she asked.

  ‘Stinking headache. I can’t remember the last time I slept all night, and the last three nights have been virtually sleepless, hence the headache. It’ll soon go.’

  ‘You’ll be there, tomorrow?’

  ‘I will. Lynda and Tanya are both going to be there, as well. Can I suggest you take it easy, today? Spend time with Dan, make it the two of you. It’s going to be hard tomorrow, you’ll be leaning on each other.’

  ‘Do you know, DI Brent, you can be quite nice when you’re not shouting at me,’ she smiled.

  ‘And I could say the same about you,’ he responded, with an answering smile. He finished the glass of water and left.

  ‘Dan,’ she called. ‘Don’t make anything for tonight’s meal, we’ll go out to eat.’

  ‘Yeah!’ she heard, from somewhere distant. Right answer, Dan, she thought, right answer. Just don’t suggest KFC.

  52

  The sun had no warmth in it, but it was a bright, spring-like morning. Liz and Dan sat either side of the back seat of the car following the hearse, both of them feeling as though the gap between them was a million miles. In the end, Liz reached across and clasped her son’s hand.

  ‘Be brave, Dan,’ she said. ‘There’ll probably be the press there, and it’s okay. It’s their job. If they get too much in your face, I’ll step in. I’m used to their invasive tactics.’

  Liz saw his nod, telling her that he understood, but he didn’t say anything. She accepted that he didn’t want to speak, simply wanted his dad back again, not lying in that box in the hearse.

  The cars pulled up at the crematorium, and they were both helped out. There were cameras clicking, but they ignored them, and went to take their places behind the coffin, as it rested on the shoulders of the smartly dressed men from the funeral directors.

  Liz was quite shocked by how many people turned up – they had little family, and yet she recognised several people that she wouldn’t have thought to invite. They had simply come to say goodbye to Gareth, and to show support for her and Dan.

  It was a beautiful, deeply moving service, and as they congregated outside after it was over, she felt a touch on her arm. It was Tom.

  ‘I can’t stay, Liz, I’m due in court later, but you know, don’t you? Anything you want…’

  She nodded. ‘I know, Tom. And thank you.’

  She watched as he went to retrieve Chloe from a lady with blue rinsed hair who she didn’t recognise, and then it was over. They were driven back to the local pub, where Liz had arranged for food to be served to anyone who returned with them, and many did. Gareth had clearly known lots of people, and they all wanted to talk about him.

  Tom arrived at court with three minutes to spare, planned that way to stop anyone talking about Oliver. Word was out, but details were sparse, and Tom realised everyone would be curious. The case didn’t last long, once the prisoner changed his plea to guilty, and Tom arrived back at the office by three, intending to show his face, then depart for home. It had been a difficult day.

  He went into Karen’s office, and she looked up, startled. ‘Goodness, I didn’t expect to see you back.’

  He waved a file at her. ‘Can you put this for archiving, please. I think Liz uses the bottom drawer of the filing cabinet, then when she’s built up a fair number, she does them all at once.’

  Karen took the file from him, and crossed the room. She opened the bottom drawer and slid it in. Then stopped.

  Deeds. She’d seen enough deeds to last her a lifetime, during the long night of searching through them, and this bundle definitely looked as though it contained deeds. She pull
ed them out, and carried them to her desk. Tom paused in the doorway.

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘Deeds. For a place at Mosborough. Oh, not to worry, it’s the new offices you’re going to be opening, isn’t it? I’d forgotten.’

  It was as if a light bulb had exploded in Tom’s brain. He walked slowly towards her, his face set in a hard mask of rage. He was mortified when he realised he had scared Karen; his next words told her that he wasn’t directing the temper at her, but at his dead partner.

  ‘The bastard,’ Tom growled. ‘No wonder he said he’d take on the building work, see to everything. Get me DI Brent, quick as you can.’

  Brent lay back in his swivel chair, thinking about the morning. As funerals went, it had been a good one. Not too mushy, like a funeral should be. He briefly closed his eyes, and tried to think about what to do next. They could end up going around in circles, looking for Latimer and Jake. It needed one small break, somebody to hear a child crying in an empty house, somebody to hear shouts for help…

  His phone rang.

  He reached out without opening his eyes. ‘Brent.’

  ‘We’ve found another property.’

  His eyes flew open, and he brought the chair up to its vertical position.

  ‘Where?’

  ‘Mosborough. It’s the new house we’ve bought to expand our business. It’s been Oliver’s baby from the start. I saw it once, gave him the go ahead, and let him get on with it. I’ve got keys…’

  ‘Meet me there. Text me the address, I can be there in five minutes.’

  ‘Then don’t wait for me. I’ll still come out, but get in any way you can. I’ll see that it’s made secure afterwards.’

  The address came through while he was putting on his coat, and he dashed into the briefing room. ‘Right, we’ve another property to search. Tanya, Lynda, Steve, and Dave, come with me please. Steve we’ll need the Enforcer. We’ve got permission to get in any way we can.’