Lethal Game, page 33
‘But you can see the mouth, you have a better angle and you’re closer …’ Another pause, more consideration. Joel actually bit down on his knuckle. ‘We can launch the smaller RIB. Two crew, I’ll be asking for volunteers and if I don’t get any …’ he said finally.
‘I understand!’ Joel bawled.
‘But you’re my eyes down there. Our comms aren’t great in these conditions and you’re much closer. If they go onto the rocks, or they lose control, you need to call it and we’ll haul them back. I’m holding you personally responsible for their safety.’ Still calm, but that voice now carried authority. Joel was in no doubt that he meant what he said.
‘Understood,’ Joel said again.
‘We’ll be watching you. If they get in difficulties wave your arms—’
‘Gun!’ Joel blurted, his hand darting to his waistband, ‘I have a flare gun …’
‘Even better. If they’re in trouble just make sure you use it.’ That threat was back. The call was ended. Now all Joel could do was stare at the lifeboat to see if the call for volunteers got any response. The light shifted to beam directly at the cave entrance. He didn’t know what that meant.
A decision seemed to be made. The lifeboat was suddenly a hive of activity. More lights were switched on, this time towards the rear where a Y-Boat appeared. Joel had seen them used in searches before – they were far smaller, flat-bottomed and inflatable for operating in shallow water. Two yellow-hooded figures made up its crew. They both seemed to be focused downwards, perhaps regretting putting their hands up now their headtorches were pointing down towards the black, tumultuous surface. The size difference affected the Y Boat’s reaction to the conditions the moment it touched the water. A wave rolled under its flattened hull, lifting it from the rear, pushing the two figures forwards, twisting it a little, and Joel could see them fight to straighten it. Being side-on to onrushing waves meant real trouble.
He could hear the engine now, the sound mingling with the wind to whip over him in gusts. The rocks were arranged in two clear piles either side of the cave’s entrance. The rock piles might have been what had caused the cave to form in the first place, acting as a channel for the power of the sea to focus on one spot on the cliff face. But that didn’t mean that there weren’t rocks they couldn’t see in the run-up to the cave.
The Y-Boat straightened and moved to within fifteen metres of the entrance. Joel would have tipped his hat if he’d had one. He’d always had the utmost respect for those involved in sea rescue, but, with the boat riding another huge wave to lurch towards the jagged rocks, his respect went up a notch. These people were fearless.
He watched at the boat bucked and rocked again. The crew were both stood now, stumbling forward in unison as they hit something hard. When they stood back up, an oar jutted out of the side to push against something just below the surface, and the figure at the back fought to lift the engine up out of the water. The ocean remained relentless. It rolled under them to toss the little boat about, then slapped against the cliff face, concealing the cave entrance momentarily.
Its disappearance made Joel stop to think. He had become fixed on finding those women, on being right, locked in a personal battle with Billy Easton – and winning. This was madness. He turned to look back up at Samphire Hoe. He could see DS Rose, still stood with their prisoner. They were all watching with an elevated view. Doubt crept in for the first time. Doubt that anyone could survive these conditions, doubt that those women were even here at all and this wasn’t just another Billy Easton misdirection.
The two lifeboat crew were tossed to the floor of the Y-Boat again and they could do nothing to prevent it changing direction, lurching towards the stack of rocks on their right. Two more people in danger now, their safety on him: he had known that even before the Coxswain’s warning: if they go onto the rocks, or they lose control, you need to call it and we’ll haul them back. I’m holding you personally responsible.
The Y-Boat had straightened back up and was just five metres from the entrance, the crew now battling to fix it to something. Joel could see they were both trailing ropes from their waist back to the Severn Class – lifelines. But the next wave was the biggest yet. The boat lifted from the rear, the two crew lurched forward again, the figure at the front tipping forward, grabbing the nose and fighting to stay on his feet. The front of the boat collided with the flat cliff face above where the cave was again swamped. Even if they made it into that cave, there would be no coming out, not alive. Not anyone.
Joel still held the brightly coloured flare gun in his hand and now he pointed it skywards and pulled the trigger. The burst was instant and this time the ratcheting feeling in his stomach was enough to drop him to his knees. He kept his head up to watch as the burning slug soared over the scene and hung in the air, its message clear for all to see.
The rescue was off. Those women were dead.
Chapter 61
It was a bright, white light. Just like the books and movies had told her. Only Jessica Harrington wasn’t walking towards it, to be slowly consumed by its warm light; she was floating on her back, being gently led, her whole body numb, wrapped in something thick and cossetting. Like the feeling of being laid out in a bath.
But the light hadn’t been permanent. It had come all at once, filling every inch of the space, above the water, under the water – even carried in as sparkling froth on the waves. Then it had swept away, and Jessica had panicked, thinking that her chance was gone.
She just wanted to drift into the light.
She was so tired. She had tried to give up, to let it happen, but something deep and instinctive had her fighting, something had lifted her hands back to grapple and scratch at the stone, tearing more nails from her bleeding fingers, something had powered her sore neck muscles to lift her nose out of the water to snatch a breath from the pockets of air where she could find them. Something had refused to let her give up.
It was one image. One memory. She was with Peter and her son and daughter. It was the first time she had introduced her children to her new man. They had been sat out in her garden and she had been nervous, desperate for it to go well, for everyone to get along. And they had. They had drunk wine while the sun set around them. Peter had bought a new firepit and they’d all been gently mocking his numerous failed attempts at lighting it. Steven had got it going in the end. The flames had been quick to grow, to light up their stupid grins. They’d talked about everything and nothing in its warmth. Her daughter had found marshmallows in a cupboard and, to everyone’s delight, had promptly burned them beyond recognition. The laughter, the gentle ribbing, the feeling you only get from being part of a happy family after being so sure she would never have that again. It was perfection.
She wanted that. Just once more she wanted to have that.
But the light was back and it was coming for her. The ceiling above her was blurring, she was no longer fighting, no longer gasping for breath. This nightmare, this pain, this life.
It was time to let it go.
Chapter 62
Retracing his steps was just as arduous and Joel’s relief was tangible when he reached the sloping platform that would take him back up to Samphire Hoe and his colleagues. He was cold now, the feeling overriding the pain in his knee, shins and fingers, the wind and his soaking clothes conspiring to make him shiver.
‘Joel, Jesus, what the hell were you thinking?’ Sympathy was not one of his sergeant’s strong points. He managed a wry grin.
‘That I could do it all, just like always.’
‘What was the flare about?’ she demanded.
‘It was me calling it off. It’s too much down there, too dangerous …’ Joel moved back to lean on the fence marking the edge of the cliff. The wind seemed stronger, his shivering now violent enough to hurt.
‘Call it off? I don’t think they listened,’ DS Rose said, and all at once Joel’s gaze was fixed upon the cave again. The smaller boat was gone and, for a few minutes, there was nothing to see. Then there was movement. A blur of yellow, then a fidgeting light – a crew member’s head torch. It was angled upwards. They were coming out backwards, holding something, making sure it stayed above the water.
‘Joel, he’s got someone!’ DS Rose shrieked. Joel’s hands rose to link behind the back of his head. He felt like bursting into tears. He watched it play out in silence, the yellow bundle now in slow motion, it seemed, while the ocean still pummelled them, hissing a warning on its every retreat. Slowly but surely, the bundle of something was dragged back to be pulled onto the lifeboat.
Joel’s phone rang. The number was labelled Force Cntrl Rm. He struggled to control his shivering in his haste to answer.
‘DI Norris, would you accept talk-through from Coxswain Neil Pope? It’s in relation to CAD—’
‘Yes!’ Joel snapped.
‘Putting him through now.’
‘Hello, is that the idiot from the rocks?’ The Coxswain’s voice.
‘Neil … Jesus, you people are incredible.’
‘I wouldn’t have gone in there, not sure many would. And then Sally-Anne ignored your signal, ignored me and damned nearly got herself killed.’ His calmness was gone, replaced by a clear anger that seemed directed towards Joel. He didn’t reply, didn’t feel like he was meant to. ‘She doesn’t give up,’ Neil Pope continued, ‘and it’s like you said, she found two people trussed up in there. She had to get cutting gear for a padlock. We got one out alive …’ The anger slipped. ‘I’m sorry but the other … the other’s lost, I’m afraid. She didn’t get any pulse and she couldn’t get her free so that’s a body recovery job and I won’t let her back out for that. She’s not happy but I have to look after my crew. You’ll be able to walk it from where you are in a couple of hours.’
‘One …’ Joel had to bite down to catch his emotions. ‘That’s incredible, I couldn’t see anyone coming out of there.’
‘Me neither. She should be OK with the right treatment. Deep shock, hypothermia is a risk, dehydration for sure and she’s covered in cuts, lost a good few fingernails and she has lacerations just about everywhere really. I can’t imagine what it was like in there …’ Pope faded out now like he was the one struggling with his emotions.
‘Is she talking?’
‘Barely. We’ve got a name and a lot of tears. She’s quite the fighter but she’s exhausted. We’re going to take her back to Dover. We’ll have an ambulance meet us.’
‘Thank you, thank you so much. Your crew, the whole lot, but Sally-Anne …’ Joel was still fighting his emotions. ‘Just thank you.’
‘Half a job. We were just too late.’
‘What’s the name, Neil? Who have you got on there?’
‘Says her name’s Alison. That’s all she’s said. Is that who you were expecting?’
Joel took another moment. ‘It’s more than I dared hope for.’
Chapter 63
Joel was sure to switch his phone off when they finally came away from Samphire Hoe. He left night patrols to secure and guard the scene; the grim task of body recovery would now wait for daylight, and those officers who had lent their time to the operation were sent back to their home stations to complete duty statements. As for Joel, he folded, like a rug that had been rolled up damp, into the back of a marked unit that would take them back to Medway. The recovery of their damaged Ford Focus could wait until morning too. The journey was largely in silence. He and DS Rose were turned away from each other on the rear bench, lost in the flashes and blurs of passing lights. Joel was desperate to focus on what needed to be done next – there was so much – but the gusts of wind that buffeted the side of the car on exposed stretches of road forced his focus to be somewhere he would rather not be. It was a cave. It was dark, with sharp, unrelenting edges, and it was violently flooding over and over again.
Joel could hardly imagine a worse hell.
Medway Police Station lived up to its promise of a shower and a change of clothes. He had assured himself it would make him feel better but it had only made him more comfortable. He wasn’t sure what ‘better’ meant. Certainly the knot of anxiety that had balled itself up in his stomach was still with him, though he was no longer sure why. The job was over. They had found the missing women, the man responsible for that and much more was in a cell downstairs and the evidence was already overwhelming enough that Billy Easton would never see an unobstructed sky again. But something still didn’t feel right.
Joel turned his phone back on to instant notifications of missed calls from Mark Hall in his capacity as the Major Crime DCI and acting Superintendent, still covering for Debbie Marsden. There was voicemail from him too, his tone a deliberate combination of patronising and faux-disappointment as he explained that Major Crime would be taking over the interviews of Easton from now on. He stopped short of saying seeing as you can’t be trusted, but it was clear enough. It was late anyway, close to midnight, and any formal interview with a prisoner arriving at this time of night would be after an eight-hour rest period at least. This timescale removed the point of any protest there and then, but Joel couldn’t resist some sort of a reply. He sent a text, knowing it was the best way to get the last word, and made sure it was as non-committal as possible. It said simply: Just out of courtesy, I received your voicemail.
Then he took out the card with Tom Lovelock’s direct dial on it. He didn’t think Lovelock would answer; solicitors weren’t on call like that, it was done via a call centre that had a rota of who was covering. The sleepy ‘hello’ told him it wasn’t Lovelock’s turn, but his interest was quickly piqued: Billy Easton, Lovelock’s first and only murder client to this point, had been arrested again – could he come down? Joel had been confident that he would but the speed caught him out. He was still skulking in the refs room, looking for tea bags to steal from the night duty response team, who had left their cupboard open, when a custody sergeant called him direct. He was instantly curt.
‘DI Norris?’
‘Speaking,’ he said, trying to speak through the stolen biscuit that was crammed in his mouth.
‘This is Kirsty Whittaker, down in the dungeons at Medway. I’ve got a solicitor outside wanting consultation with the murder suspect who was brought in earlier. We were told he was being bedded down for the night. The solicitor’s now asking for you?’
‘That’s right,’ Joel sang, ‘if a jailer could put them together for a quick chat, I’ll be right down.’ He cut the call before he could get any protests. Joel took his tea with him and refilled his mouth with digestive. When he walked into the interview room he was still washing it down.
‘DI Norris!’ Lovelock was cheery, despite looking hurriedly dressed. It was clear he was still enjoying his career-defining moment. Billy Easton was sitting next to him. Some of the confidence he had seen slip away from him out on the edge of the Hoe seemed to be back. ‘If you will excuse me, Mr Easton, I need to speak to the inspector here, find out what’s been going on.’
‘Disclosure, you mean? Let’s do it right here, shall we?’ Joel snapped and Lovelock’s expression instantly changed to a scowl of confusion.
‘But officer, the process dictates …’
‘The process says I don’t have to disclose a damned thing so count this as a bonus. Just like I don’t have to interview your client again either, and I won’t be. I just wanted to tell you that in person.’
‘But you have to give him his chance to give his side of the story? That’s the system we all work under—’ Lovelock began.
‘I don’t have to give him a fucking thing!’ Joel hissed. He sat down in the stunned silence that followed. The chair was directly opposite Billy and Joel locked onto him, noting that his lips now had a little curl at both ends, threatening to form a smile. Joel didn’t think he would be able to hold himself back if it came. ‘I don’t have to hear another word that comes out of this mouth. I’m tired of the games and the lies. I only came down here to disclose to you that your client has lost, to tell you that he left his skin all over the tools he used to condemn a homeless man to a slow and painful death.’
‘Homeless—’ Lovelock started to speak, the curl in Easton’s lips was gone. Joel cut in to the finish.
‘That’s right. Your client was captured on CCTV when he was stalking Jessica Harrington at her place of work. It’s amazing how silent images can still effectively show a man getting more and more angry. At one point Billy here even crosses the floor like he’s going to front her up, but of course he didn’t. He’d spent four years planning what he was going to do to her and that might have ruined it all. That’s right, isn’t it, Billy?’ There was no reply. ‘Or maybe you lost your nerve, got scared? Easier to watch her from the shadows until she was vulnerable enough …’ Another pause. Billy’s smirk reappeared but nothing else, so Joel continued. ‘That wasn’t the first time he had been there either, seems he was a regular. But not only there. You see, your client had a homeless man tied to the back of a disused garage nearby. This man was known in the area for begging, but I reckon that Billy here saw someone weak and vulnerable enough to be perfect for his needs, because we know he only goes after the vulnerable.’
‘Needs?’ Lovelock scoffed, again trying to get a word in.
‘Practice,’ Joel said. ‘That’s right isn’t it, Billy? There were a couple of restraint options left in that garage, including a windlass, which is something that a man with a fascination with boats might know all about. I had to look it up. It’s designed to be used with a boat anchor, its main function to feed out a length of chain into the water and then to bring it back when needed. That’s the sort of thing that could be adapted to hold someone tight against a wall, then give them a metre or two of freedom when you wanted to. There was mechanical timer too, that could have worked with the windlass to let you control your victim’s distance from the back wall without even being there. And you needed to know you could, didn’t you? Did you even know his name?’ Joel’s sudden change to a question got no reaction.
