by Gwyn GB
They both ripped at crates, pulling them from against the walls, ripping at any with lids.
‘Alex, Alex. Please can you hear us?’ Jack shouted in desperation, his hands splintered and cut.
They would have to leave or risk passing out and dying in there.
Jack was behind the post office van, Harrison round the front, when there was a cracking sound and part of the ceiling fell down. It crashed onto Jack, who fell to his knees as the debris covered him. It wasn’t so heavy as to crush him, but he was done in. All out. Hacking with the smoke and dust. For a moment he thought he was going to pass out, then he felt the strong arms of Harrison Lane pull him from the floor and hoist him back into the next-door office out of the bay.
Jack wasn’t injured, but he needed air, and his head was spinning. For a moment he blacked out, coming to as they reached the end of the corridor and daylight.
The pair of them emerged coughing and spluttering, their faces blackened with the smoke.
‘You bloody fools. The fire brigade is coming. Thank God you’re out.’ Barker didn’t need to ask if they’d found Alex. Her face was thunder, but she couldn’t hide the relief in her eyes when she’d seen them emerge.
‘Get those cargo bay locks off ready for the fire brigade,’ she shouted to one of the TS team.
Smoke was now pouring out of the smashed windows in every one of the offices.
‘We need to fall back. There could be asbestos in there.’ Barker waved to Oaks to move away from the burning building. He was by the car. Inside Platt sat watching the flames and smoke, mesmerised.
Salter and Lane were both bent over double, coughing up the smoke.
‘Have the other bays been searched?’ Jack asked DCI Barker.
‘Yes. Nothing. The whole building has been covered.’
‘But Platt said about him burning in hell, he has to be in there somewhere.’ Jack’s face was pleading, as though his boss could somehow miraculously find the little boy.
‘Platt is not mentally stable, we can’t trust a word he says,’ was all Barker replied. She didn’t want to think about the consequences if he’d been telling the truth. Not now. Not yet.
Jack looked at her face and back at the burning building behind him.
‘Perhaps he’s not in there at all. Maybe he’s in one of the others on the site.’ But even as he said it, he knew it was just his brain trying to make him feel better.
‘That’s what I’m hoping,’ replied Barker. ‘We’ve got officers searching right now.’
Jack nodded, but his face didn’t look convinced.
‘Come on, we need to move.’
Harrison watched them. It couldn’t end like this.
He went to follow them, but the smoke in his lungs hit him again, making him bend over and cough. As he did so, the photograph of Alex and his parents fell from his jacket pocket onto the ground in front of him.
He stared at it. Anger and frustration mixed with desperation on his face. Where could the boy be? Harrison looked over to see Platt staring at him from the back of the car. The intensity of his gaze reminded him of the photographs he’d seen of his father’s corpse. It took him back to the flat, images of Cameron walking round and round his dead father’s body. Of him as a young boy left alone at night while his father worked here. Their flat, devoid of character and life, no warm photographs of family memories, no mementoes of summer holidays, or even bookshelves and ornaments—just one book—a Bible. Only, there wasn’t just one book, was there? In Cameron’s room, there had been the Haynes manual on his bedside table. Harrison’s mind focussed on the moment he had opened it. It had fallen open at a page that had obviously been well read. He remembered…
‘The van. He’s in the van.’
The second the words were out of his mouth, he knew he was right. Platt’s face changed.
Harrison hadn’t ever been surer of something. He ran back towards the burning building.
‘What? No. We looked. We all looked,’ Salter shouted after him.
‘It looks empty,’ was all they heard him say before he disappeared back through the smoke-filled door.
‘Harrison, don’t be stupid, the fire…’ But DCI Barker’s words were wasted.
From behind her came the voice of Cameron Platt, shouting in the police car, ‘As smoke is driven away so drive them away. As wax melteth before the fire, so let the wicked perish at the presence of God.’
DCI Barker turned to the prisoner.
‘If you don’t shut it then the fires of hell are going to seem like a picnic by the time I’ve finished with you.’
She turned back to the building. There was no sign of Dr Harrison Lane.
‘Harrison, you fool, what have you done?’
‘I’m going back in.’ DS Salter had picked himself up and was heading back towards the entrance. ‘He might need help.’
‘No, you are not. And that is an order.’ DCI Barker was quicker this time. She grabbed his arm.
‘Think about Marie, about Daniel. They need you.’
The dilemma was on his face.
‘I’m the boss. If anyone’s going in it’s me,’ she said to him, her face hardening with the resolve that clutched at her insides.
‘What about your family?’
‘They stopped needing me years ago. I can’t leave him alone in there.’
DCI Barker started to run towards the entrance, when the huge cargo door in front of them started to move. Within seconds they saw the bottom of Harrison’s legs, splayed apart. He was hauling the heavy door up with the chain.
‘Quick, don’t just stand there, help him,’ she shouted to the men behind her.
DC Oaks, Jack, and one of the TS officers rushed over, and as the smoke poured out from the gap, helped heave the heavy door upwards.
‘Stand back,’ Harrison shouted at them.
At first, they weren’t sure what he meant, but at the sound of the van’s engine, the penny dropped. The door was only just high enough to fit underneath, but that didn’t stop him. He revved the van and crashed through into the car park, scraping the roof and shattering the windscreen.
Harrison almost fell out of the driver’s door, coughing. For a few moments he couldn’t speak.
‘He modified it. We looked but didn’t see…’
He staggered to the back of the van and flung the doors back, then he started to rip at the floor. They’d already pulled up the spare wheel recess, but it was behind there that he searched.
‘There has to be something…’ he said, his hands running all over the floor.
Behind him, the building groaned and crackled as the fire consumed its core.
‘We need to fall right back. Get that prisoner out of here,’ DCI Barker shouted to Oaks and Jack. DC Oaks reluctantly got in the car and drove a safe distance away, but Jack wasn’t budging.
Harrison sat up. There was nothing. How could he be so wrong? He was sure Alex was in the van. He couldn’t have judged it so badly.
‘I don’t understand. I’m sure he’s modified it. He has to be here,’ he said to DCI Barker. Behind her Jack’s shoulders sagged.
‘Harrison,’ she said, ‘we have to go. The fire brigade will be here, then we can go back in. We need to move back.’
He sat staring at the van. What was he missing? His head was pounding from the smoke, his eyes streaming. His senses were deserting him.
‘Dr Lane!’ DCI Barker commanded now. ‘We need to move.’ She put her hand on his shoulder and he turned.
Harrison looked at Sandra Barker and she saw the disappointment she felt reflected on his face. They had failed the boy. Failed his parents. Was Alex now lying somewhere trapped inside that burning building?
‘We’ve got dog teams and specialist equipment on its way,’ she said to him. ‘We will search this whole complex. We could still find him. Come on, Harrison, we have to move.’
But even as she said the words to reassure him, she knew that he saw through her bravado.
&n
bsp; Harrison was beat. Everything hurt. He’d been so sure. So convinced.
The spare wheel was halfway out of its recess, and he kicked it in frustration.
That’s when he saw it.
A small lever at the back of the spare wheel recess. It was shiny metal, too new and clean to be original.
Harrison lunged for it. As he pulled it, there was a popping sound and the back of the driver’s cab inside, moved. He hadn’t modified the floor, he’d created a compartment inside.
DCI Barker watched, amazed, as Harrison scrambled inside and yanked at the now loose panels. He flung them to one side and there in front of them was a small boy, bound and gagged, his eyes closed. He was curled up in the tiny compartment barely large enough to fit him, with just holes in the floor for air.
‘Alex, Alex.’ Harrison grabbed him, pulling the child from his prison and into the main compartment. He’d been terrified that his body would be cold and stiff, but it wasn’t. He was warm. He was alive.
DCI Barker was in the van with him in seconds, Jack right behind her. They pulled the gag from Alex’s mouth and she shouted into her radio for an ambulance.
‘He’s breathing, but it’s shallow,’ said Harrison, feeling for Alex’s pulse. ‘He’d have been taking in smoke, he needs oxygen, fresh air.’
Harrison Lane picked up Alex Fuller in his arms and ran with him. His chest screamed in pain, his legs felt like wet concrete, but he had to get that little boy away from the smoke to clean air. Behind him he heard DCI Barker shouting into her radio, relaying instructions. In the distance, the sound of sirens heralded the fire brigade. For all Harrison cared, the building could burn to the ground now. They’d found what they’d come for.
36
DCI Barker stood listening to the grey-haired doctor in front of her. Her eyes were bleary with tiredness and the effects of smoke, but she could see that his face was reassuring and positive. It was good news.
‘The fact the air holes were near to the floor probably helped save him. There appears to be no permanent smoke damage, and apart from dehydration he is remarkably okay. We will need to keep him in a couple of days for observation, but otherwise, I’m positive about his physical outcome.’
‘Thank you, doctor,’ DCI Barker said. ‘And psychologically?’
‘Not my area, but we’ve booked him in for a full assessment tomorrow. Not today, he’s too tired.’
DCI Barker nodded. Her mind thought about the weeks and months of nightmares ahead for Alex Fuller, but at least he was alive and back with his family.
‘And my officers?’
‘They’ll be fine. We’ve given them both oxygen and dealt with a few minor burns and scrapes, but after a couple of days’ rest, we’re not foreseeing any long-term damage. We’re lucky there didn’t appear to have been any particularly noxious chemicals on site.’
‘No, just plenty of wood and furniture oil,’ replied DCI Barker ironically. ‘And thankfully, no problems with asbestos either.’ She’d become paranoid about developing asbestosis in the hours since the incident. When the fire officer on command had rung up to tell her the building hadn’t contained any asbestos after all, she’d been mightily relieved.
The doctor returned to his busy round and DCI Barker went to check in on the Fullers for one last time before going home. Their prisoner, Cameron Platt, had already been in and patched up, and was on his way to a custody cell at Lewisham where a mental health expert was ready to assess him.
When Barker arrived at the room where the Fullers were sat around Alex’s bed, she found Harrison had beaten her to it. She didn’t go in straight away. Instead, she watched through the observation window in the door as Harrison crossed to Alex’s bed and tenderly took the boy’s hand.
Did Alex know he’d saved him?
The parents certainly did because Sally Fuller stood up and hugged him. DCI Barker smiled at the sight of their hero, looking decidedly awkward and embarrassed at the closeness of the embrace. She really was going to have to find him a good woman. He deserved a chance at love and a happy family life after what he’d been through with his own. He might come across as cool and aloof, but she knew he had a lot to give. Perhaps she could help engineer something with Tanya. They seemed rather taken with each other.
She was just about to go into the room when she saw Harrison reach into his jacket pocket and pull out what looked like a photograph.
The photo of the smiling Fuller family was a little creased and scuffed now, and there were smears where black soot had gotten from his fingers onto the photograph, but that didn’t matter. Harrison held it out to Sally Fuller and smiled.
‘I don’t need this anymore. I wanted to return it to you.’
She took it, tears coursing down her cheeks. Edward stood and shook his hand and put his arms around his wife to comfort her. They had their family back together again.
37
Harrison slept for ten hours solid. He didn’t even remember how he’d got into bed. Sandra had arranged for a taxi to take him home because his bike was still in Lewisham, and quite frankly he wouldn’t have trusted himself to ride it without causing an accident, anyway. He knew he’d had a shower, drunk about ten pints of water, and then that was it. He’d hit the pillow and was out. His sleep hadn’t been without dreams, some of them violent and vivid, but he’d battled through them and slept from nine in the evening until seven the next morning.
He felt the after-effects of the fire. His chest, lungs, and throat were sore, raw, almost like he’d got a bad chesty cold. He could feel the inflammation in all his airways, and he’d got the ghost of a headache still, as though the smoke had settled in his brain. He hadn’t anticipated just how tired and heavy his limbs would feel. It was going to be a quiet day for him while his body caught up with the exertion and lack of oxygen.
He felt at peace, though. The weight of responsibility had lifted—for now at least—until the next one. There was always a next one.
He allowed himself the luxury of another shower and then a leisurely breakfast, lounging on his sofa in front of the big bank of windows. It was a nice day outside. The sun sparkled on the River Thames as it slowly meandered past. He loved watching the river. It was officially the second longest in the UK, after the River Severn, but Englishmen would argue that the Thames was the longest, because the River Churn fed it, which some said should be unofficially included in its length. Harrison didn’t care about its size; he loved the life in its waters. So much history on its banks and in its silt.
He felt for it, though. The Thames was a captive animal, unable to evolve and escape. If London hadn’t grown up around it, with concrete banks restricting its course, then the meanderings would have turned into oxbox lakes by now. As it was there were already over eighty named islands along its length. The free spirit of the Thames was constricted, but it breathed on. A twice-daily tidal ebb and flow that allowed the river a slow intake and exhalation.
Harrison closed his eyes and slowly breathed in and out. Seeking to repair his mind and awaken his senses, just like the river.
As his head slowly began to clear, his thoughts turned to Tanya, and her fear that she was being watched. He should text her, check if she’s okay.
He’d avoided picking up his phone so far, but now he’d thought about her he needed to see it through. He kept it short, to the point. ‘Did you manage to sort the cameras and alarms okay? No developments?’ he wrote.
There was a text on his phone from Ryan too. Could be something important so he read that.
‘Morning, great news re Alex. Managed to discover some interesting things about your Nunhead location. News story about a woman being found stabbed in 1993. Case never solved. Witchcraft or Devil worshipping involved. Have emailed details.’
Harrison’s heart lurched, and he felt sick. It was true. That image he’d seen in his head was a real memory. The night he and his mother had been there a woman died. But who was she? It explained why his mother had been so scared. Flashes
came back into his tired brain. Pale skin, red blood. The stone.
He had to find out more. Now he had two murders to solve—but he was pretty sure there was only one killer.
38
The next day, the incident room was like a pressure cooker with its lid lifted, the atmosphere had lightened, and officers were smiling and chatting, the urgency gone. There was still plenty to do, the case would need to be sewn up for the Crown Prosecution Service and Cameron Platt was still being interviewed, but they’d taken a dangerous man off the streets and put a boy back with his family. They’d also given answers to Louise and the Phillips family, and a closure of sorts. That wasn’t a victory, but it was the best they could do in the circumstances.
Some of the team were off after their endless overtime, and already DCI Barker was working on a new case. Jack Salter was trying to type his report with bandaged hands. It was a slow process. He looked up as Harrison came out of DCI Barker’s office. The door had been closed.
‘Everything okay?’ he asked him.
‘Yeah, fine. There’d been an enquiry from one of the papers after the incident with the photographer at the Phillips’ house. She’s managed to make it go away.’
‘I knew she’d take care of it. She’s like a lioness when it comes to her team.’
‘Yeah, but she’s making me do an anger management course…’ Harrison replied.
Jack smirked at him and Harrison smirked back. Two naughty schoolboys who’d just bonded.
‘This was handed into front desk for you,’ he said, holding out a brown A4 envelope.
Harrison looked at it. He’d no idea who it could be from, so he tore it open. Inside was a single photograph. He pulled it out. It was of two people, the man in black witch’s robes, standing next to the young woman, his mother, in his photograph at home, only this time she was also wearing black robes. There was something in her eyes, a sadness. Loss. Someone had drawn on the photograph with a black felt-tip pen. There was a noose around her neck.
