Suffer the Torment, page 4
He looked down to his hands again, and despite his answer, Roy wondered about if he was telling the truth. Time would tell. They had a positive ID now, which was a huge result for not doing much at all.
“What about Gloria?” Sarah asked. “Does that name strike a bell?”
When Dean looked confused, she explained. “The name that was engraved on Emma’s arms. Did you see that?”
Dean nodded. “Kind of. No, don’t know no Gloria. Look ‘ere, can I go now?”
The boy had done more than Roy could have asked for. He patted Dean on the back. “Thank you. Next time the coppers want to have a word, it’s not because they want to get you into trouble, they might just want to ask you something. Got it?”
“Yeah.”
Dean opened the door and got out. He walked slowly towards his mates.
Roy said, “Send two uniform units to the school. I want a discreet police presence, and not to alarm the parents or children. But the schoolteachers have to know what’s happened.”
“We should head down there as well,” Sarah said, as they got out of the car. “Yes. Make the call. I want to snoop around to see if I can find anything.”
Sarah hooked her left eyebrow at him. “Are you the SIO now?”
“I am till no one tells me otherwise,” Roy said over his shoulder as he walked away.
CHAPTER 8
He considered the portent of his words as he walked away. Did that mean he was staying now? How could he leave, with that poor girl laid out like that a few metres away?
Emma Purkiss.
She was someone’s child, sister. Her parents would be going spare with worry, wondering where their daughter was. Roy had survived it for twenty-seven years and counting. He didn’t want anyone to go through what his family had for Robin, his brother. It was cruel, he thought as the dagger twisted in his heart, that despite catching the man responsible, he still didn’t know what happened to Robin. Roy shook his head, dispelling the black shroud that settled over his mind. It cloaked and clogged his synapses, drove him to a bitter and blind fury.
He walked fast, and past a couple of uniformed officers, to the edge of the warehouses. After the fence, brown hills rose high in the air, dotted with trees whose branches moved in the wind. The air was a little fresher here, more like the Peak District he had got used to. He looked around him. In the distance, the hills fell away to a valley, the patchwork quilt of yellow and green, a couple of rivers snaking their way through them. To get up here, Emma, if that was her name, wouldn’t have walked. Someone gave her a lift last night. She planned to meet up with that person, and they brought her here.
He looked around the fence, then walked back to the uniformed officers. “Any tyre tracks apart from ours?”
“Nothing fresh, guv,” replied one of the constables. His name was Pickering, and Roy had met him before. Pickering flashed him a nervous smile, which faded when Roy scowled at him. “There’s old marks, guv, but they’re faded and shallow.”
Roy did a 360, looking back at the gates they had driven through. Any tracks might be damaged anyway. After the gates, and to their left, the land fell away in dense crops of trees, brown and green foliage like a lush carpet over the hills that rolled all the way down to a serene riverbank. These rotting warehouses around him were a blight on this landscape, an abomination. He knew why they were built – to store and process the lime from the mine quarry further ahead. But they would always be an eyesore.
“Show me the track marks,” Roy asked Pickering. The constable gaped at him.
“Did I ask you a trick question, constable?”
Pickering cleared his throat, and looked around for exactly what, Roy had no idea. “No, guv, it’s just that ...”
“Just what?”
“Track marks of what, guv?”
Roy ground his teeth together. “The old tyre marks you saw. The ones you just mentioned.”
“Oh those,” Pickering blew out his cheeks, and his adam’s apple bobbed up and down. “I don’t know when they’re from, but—”
Roy leaned forward till his face was inches from Pickering’s. “Just show them to me.”
“Yes, of course. Here. This way.”
Roy shook his head as he followed a flustered Pickering to the gates. The uniformed sergeant standing there looked at them, and nodded at Roy, who acknowledged the greeting with a wave. Roy looked at the shallow depressions on the ground. They were made by heavy vehicles, probably the trucks that carried the lime and machinery to and from the mines. They were also not fresh, which made sense.
Pickering had walked ahead, and Roy followed. The constable continued down the path, then stopped on the grass verge, and went right. The verges sloped up slightly, then down into another dirt track that looked unused. Apart from some faint car tyre tracks. Roy went down into the track and looked at them. They weren’t as old as Pickering thought. He could see splashes of oil as well. An old car, and a light one. It had seen better days if it was leaking oil from the engine. He looked up at Pickering.
“What made you look here?” Roy asked.
Pickering looked sheepish. “I came for a fag, then saw them.”
“Well, keep smoking.” Roy smacked Pickering on the shoulder. “Well done, constable. And that was a joke about the smoking. Horrible habit. Took me years to quit.”
“Yes, guv. I mean yes, it’s a horrible habit. Not yes it took you years to quit. Because I didn’t know you before …”
His words trailed off as he caught Roy glaring at him. His eyes widened and his prominent Adam’s apple appeared in his scrawny neck again.
“Do you always second-guess what you think?” Roy asked.
Pickering licked his lips. His eyes darted around. “No. I mean, should I?”
“James,” Roy sighed. “Just go and get DI Sarah for me, will you?”
“Now, guv?”
Roy closed his eyes and pressed fingers to his forehead. “Yes James, right now.”
Pickering nodded and hurried off, then stopped, and came back. Roy turned as he sensed Pickering behind him. The constable’s hands were folded, then they twisted.
“Sir, don’t tell my boss I was off smoking.”
Roy put his hand on the man’s shoulder. “James.”
Pickering’s eyes widened. “Yes, sir?”
“You’re alright, you know that?”
The young man had nothing to say. He simply stared at Roy.
“And you’ve got the makings of a bloody good police officer.”
Something flashed in Pickering’s eyes, elation, mixed with a tinge of apprehension. “I do?”
Roy tightened his grip on the constable’s shoulder, but not hard, just firm enough to be comforting.
“Yes, you do. Just keep it simple. Don’t overthink. Got that?”
Pickering’s eyes darted around, and then settled on Roy. “Okay guv.”
“Good. Report anything else you find directly to me. Now get Sarah here.”
CHAPTER 9
Sarah came over shortly. Roy had walked down the dirt track, following the tyre marks. It wasn’t easy, as most of the track was rubble, but the occasional mud patch showed the marks.
He caught up with Sarah as she walked down to meet him.
“I saw them,” she said. “You think this car was here last night?”
“Possible. Why else would a car come here anyway? School children bunking I understand, but why adults?”
“Or teenagers looking for some privacy?” Sarah arched an eyebrow at him. “We’ve all done it.”
Roy shrugged. “And they happened to be here the night Emma was murdered? Pretty big coincidence, that.”
“Get a couple of the uniforms to search up and down this track, just in case.” Roy waved at Pickering, who was standing near the gates. He was absentminded, and Roy had to call his name. He startled, then came running. Roy told him what he wanted.
“Go all the way to where this track joins the main road. Get someone with you. Take samples of anything you find.”
Pickering had his usual rabbit in the headlight stare. “I need to get permission.”
“No, I will clear it for you. Please start it now.”
“Yes guv,” Pickering nodded, and jogged back to get some help.
“He’s keen,” Sarah said. “And a bit simple.”
“He’s got more brains than he realises, and people like him end up getting used.”
Sarah gave him a long look. “How do you know?”
“Let’s just say I’m a keen observer of human character.”
He avoided Sarah’s searching eyes and got out of the dirt track. He couldn’t shake the feeling a car had brought Emma here. She was too young to drive. Whoever brought her here also took her inside the warehouse.
The ambulance lurched out from the gates. That would be the paramedics taking the body back to the morgue. Behind the ambulance, Dr Patel followed in her Audi A3. She stopped and wound her window down.
“I should have something for you by tomorrow, midday at the latest,” she said to Sarah and Roy. They waved at her as she left.
“The school principal came back to me. He’s ready for us to see him. He confirmed that they had a student in year 11 called Emma Purkiss. I’ve got photos of the victim to show him. Told him about Dean, Eddie, and Travis as well. Sending them home in a squad car, and the uniforms will tell his parents.”
Pickering and another uniformed constable appeared, and they set to walk down the dirt track, looking for evidence. With them, a squad car drove slowly down the uneven road. The passenger seat was occupied by Inspector Adams, and he waved at them. The three boys were in the back seat. Roy waved at Dean, who nodded.
“Let’s make sure there’s plenty of police presence here tonight. I want lights up, and hourly recon. If this sicko is planning another visit, we need to scare him off.”
Sarah nodded. They went back inside, and Roy waited in the car while Sarah spoke to the remaining uniforms. His phone buzzed, and it was the station number.
“DCI Roy.”
“Ey up, guv. Heard you were around, like.” It was Oliver Walmsley, the Detective Constable in his team.
“News travels fast. Have you heard about what happened?”
“The young girl in Burngreave?”
“Yes, we’re here now. The girl’s name is Emma Purkiss.” Roy gave Oliver her details and asked him to look her up. He promised to do so and get hold of her address and home details.
“We’re going to her school for a quick visit, then to her parents. Send me her home address asap.”
“On it.”
Roy hung up as Sarah came back. He told her about Oliver calling.
“Riz is also there,” Sarah said as she swung the wheel around. “To the school?”
“Before that, we should swing past the nick once. I need to pick up my radio, just in case. Also left my warrant card in the office.”
“No problem.”
Sarah drove out slowly over the uneven ground. Pickering and his mate were coming back up from the dirt track, and Sarah slowed as Roy turned his window down. Pickering appeared to have not noticed them. He was sauntering past, head in the air. Roy had to call him before he jumped around like he’d seen a ghost.
“Sorry guv, didn’t realise it was you.”
Roy pointed to the right of the road, behind the swell of the grass verge. “Anything there?”
Pickering looked at the verge like he hadn’t seen it before. Roy shook his head. “James.”
“Yes guv. No, guv. I mean, yes, we saw more tracks. Haven’t gone all the way down to the main road though. I’m out of specimen bags, so I’m going to the car to get some. Then I will start again.”
“Good. Keep going. Call me if you find anything and tell Dobson as well.”
“Of course, guv.” Pickering practically saluted as they drove off.
“We’ll make a policeman out of him yet,” Roy muttered as he settled back in his seat.
The countryside flashed past, a blur of green as the dense foliage loomed around them, suddenly giving way to the breathtaking vista of the Hope Valley. Sunlight flashed on the bend of a river far down below as they followed the winding road down the hill. Black rock cropped out in craggy formations from the hills. That was one thing noticeable about the Peak District, Roy thought. Plenty of rock formations, contrasting with the greenery on display. He had walked around Hathersage and climbed up a rocky cliff once. It wasn’t hard, and it was a good walking trail.
He had stood on the edge of a massive block rock called Hanging Man’s Noose, and stared out over the gigantic valley below him, hushed and quiet in the glow of the setting sun. He had felt a sensation akin to coming home, as he sat down on the ledge, all alone. For the first time in a long while, he’d been at peace. Perhaps because he managed to catch Robin’s abductor, after almost thirty years.
He hadn’t known the real reason, but those precious minutes as the breeze ruffled his hair, and the broad valley below dwindled into shades of blue and violet as the sun went to sleep behind the darkening hills, he had thought of the brother he might never find again, the faces of his parents in the nursing home, and it seemed the land rose up like a slow wave to meet the sky, subduing his senses, washing over him. He had lain down on the rock, and simply closed his eyes. This countryside did that to him, he felt an unlocking, a giving way inside, a newfound sense of letting go. The wind swept around him, speaking against the rocks, whispering his brother’s name. Raawbeeen. Raawbeen.
He had learnt to not expect too much in life, to keep his head down and stay busy. Happiness was a journey, never a destination.
Now, Sarah took a sharp turn expertly, her hands used to the bends of these hills. Over their heads, another rock formation jutted out like a ledge. Roy’s mind came back to them. He craned his neck to watch.
Sarah made an inquisitive noise in her throat and raised her eyebrows at him.
“Rocky around here,” he observed. “Hence the mines.”
“Lead mining still goes on, but the locals are up in arms over new ones opening up. Castleton and the surrounding area used to be like a boom town in the old days.”
“For lead mining?”
“Lead, copper, and so on. I’m talking two or three hundred years ago. My grandfather was a lead miner. Ended up with lead in his lungs the poor bugger.”
“Sorry to hear that.”
Sarah waved a hand. “He died a while back. But yeah, mining was big up here, back in the day.”
“What about the warehouse? When was that last used?”
“Long time as well. Those have been unused since I was at school. I had a boyfriend in Castleton. Driven past this spot, and it was derelict then.”
“Whoever did this, had local knowledge. Chances are the person is from Castleton.”
“Might not be,” Sarah said. “I went to school in Sheffield. Everyone there knows these areas.” She smiled. “Live in Hope, born in Castleton.”
It was Roy’s turn to look confused. Sarah grinned at him without taking her eyes off the road. The hill was smoothing out into the flat lines of the A57. She indicated left and took the turning.
“There’s a town called Hope,” Sarah explained. “And that’s a saying – live in hope, but unfortunately, you were born in Castleton.”
“I can think of worse places,” Roy muttered. “Like a council estate in south London. No hope there, I can tell you.”
“Now, now,” Sarah tutted. “There’s hope everywhere, if you ask me.”
“I didn’t,” Roy grumbled. He shifted in his seat; aware he didn’t take the painkillers before setting off. His left shoulder was letting him know, the sharp catch every time he moved taking his breath away.
Sarah appeared to notice. “You alright?”
“Never been better.”
“Think you need a cuppa and a break before we head out again. Seeing the family will be right gnarly, like.”
“That it will,” Roy sighed. He wasn’t looking forward to that at all. There was no good way to break bad news. The best thing, he had learnt, was not to make the family wait. They wanted closure, more than anything else.
The traffic started as they joined the roads to Sheffield centre. The SYP south station wasn’t that close to the centre, thankfully, and on Ecclesall Road, in the south of the city. Roy had learnt the south of Sheffield housed the nicer parts. It was also closer to the Peak District.
Sarah pulled inside the car park of the station, and they got out. They walked into the open plan detectives’ room, and several heads glanced their way. It wasn’t a big office compared to what Roy was used to, and the uniforms shared it with the detectives, which was handy.
Sarah went to the canteen to fix a brew. Roy walked to his desk, and spotted Rizwan and Oliver. He was walking towards them when a squat, barrel-chested figure barged out of the DS’s office. A puff of nicotine followed him and hit Roy’s nostrils. It was Nugent, the station chief. Roy stopped short as Nugent, looking like a slightly taller dwarf from Lord of the Rings, blocked his way. All Nugent needed was a hammer or axe over his shoulder, and the similarity to a dwarf from a fantasy flick would be remarkably accurate, Roy thought.
Nugent bared his yellow teeth like a hyena ready to pounce. “Get in my office. Now.”
CHAPTER 10
Roy did as he was told, Nugent was his superior, after all. He knew there was no love lost between them. Nugent didn’t want him here, and initially, he didn’t want to be here. He only came to Sheffield to find the Lily Man, and Robin. One objective was achieved, but not the other. Roy refused to accept Robin was dead. Somehow, he had to figure out a way to make Burns talk.
His time was up, but no one had told him when to leave. His boss in London, Arla Baker, had also been quiet about it. Roy couldn’t help but wonder what was going on.
The pall of cigarette smoke hung like a shroud in the room. Roy waved his hand in front of his face, trying to dispel the fumes. The window was shut, and he couldn’t understand why the alarm hadn’t gone off. Nugent glared at him.
