Torment (6 page)

She had a vague recollection of someone shouting her name. A man, definitely a man. But maybe she dreamt it. After all, she wasn’t sure what was reality and what wasn’t. But this was real. The pain was real. She had to do something.

A brick wall was about two feet behind her. She decided to try and pull herself towards it to lean against. Checking she could move her arms, she struggled to sit up. Her right elbow hurt but she didn’t think there were any breaks, probably just heavy bruising. Her left leg was a different matter. A sharp pain from below the knee made her wince and cry out. Bending her right knee, she pushed herself backwards with her foot and hands. Her left heel dragged against the floor causing the pain to intensify with every movement but she persevered until she was sitting up against the old crumbling brickwork. She was sweating but she felt cold, so cold.

She looked at her watch. The second hand still moving, it showed nine forty-five. But what day? The watch had no date panel. How long had she been here? Phone. Her mobile. Fumbling in the pocket of her trousers, she pulled it free. She tried to switch it on but the battery was dead. Damn! She should have charged it but she had been in such a hurry to pursue Chapman. Should have done a lot of things before she set off on this foolhardy mission. Should have mentioned something to someone, at least left a note. She was about to call it in to the police when the van turned up. But then, who visits her flat? Only Gillian. Oh God, she’ll be worried. How long
has
it been?

Staring at the mobile’s lifeless display she began to sob. Eventually, she pulled herself together. In her mind she went over the events that had led to her situation; the phone message; her tracking down the creepy Steve Chapman; her surveillance culminating in the dash for cover into the old farmhouse. And, of course, the plunge through the floor. But that wasn’t all. What about the two girls? Where were they now?

“Hello!” she called out. “Is anyone there? Jennifer? Mary? Can you hear me?” The only sounds were birdsong. And then the deep rumble of a train passing nearby.

But it couldn’t have been. If there
were
any girls, they’d have gone for help. No, she must have been delirious. But her memory seemed so vivid. There again, she didn’t actually see them. Not clearly. Although she did recall one had been wearing a white dress and the other a grey pinafore. If she had those images then surely they were real. So where were they now? It didn’t make sense.

Another train vibrated the floor and she closed her eyes.

9

Strong and Stainmore drew a blank at Chapman’s address. No one was home. As they returned to the car, Strong received a call from Souter.

“Hello, mate. Just wondering if there was any news on Susan.”

“Early days yet. But we have found her car.”

“Whereabouts?”

“Near a farm called Meadow Woods out on the back roads the other side of Pontefract.”

“No sign of Susan, though?”

“Not at the moment. I’ll let Gillian know soon as I have anything concrete.” With that, he ended the call.

“What now, guv?” Stainmore asked, getting in to the passenger seat.

“Back to Wood Street I think. Do some digging on Chapman. Known associates. Also try National Insurance records; see if he’s one of the great employed.” Strong was about to start the engine. “And give Luke a call. See if they discovered anything in the farmhouse.”

Driving through the mid-morning traffic as Stainmore spoke to Ormerod, his unease grew. He didn’t like the way the part of the conversation he could hear was going.

When she finished, Stainmore rubbed her eyes. “Luke waited with Susan’s car until a uniformed constable in a patrol vehicle from Pontefract turned up. Apparently, the traffic duo shot off under blue lights about five minutes after we left; accident on the M62, so they didn’t get up there.”

“Shit! So nobody’s checked the farmhouse?”

“He told the uniform to stay with the Micra until the recovery truck appeared then made his way back to Wood Street.”

“I’ll take that as a no, then.”

“He also said to remind you, you have a ten-thirty with the Chief Super before he reports for his meeting this afternoon.”

“Bollocks,” Strong said, under his breath.

“Promotion brings such a heady lifestyle, guv.”

Strong just gave her a disdainful look. “When we get back to Wood Street,” he said, “find Ormerod and if you’ve nothing better to do, get your arses back out there and check that farmhouse. Take some uniforms if you have to but get it checked.”

The rest of the journey passed in an awkward silence.

*    *    *

Souter initiated a search on his computer for Meadow Woods Farm and came up with the details he wanted, including a map and postcode. Ten minutes later, he was slipping on to the M1 prior to picking up the M62 eastbound.

Any doubts he had about finding the location dissolved when he spotted the police patrol vehicle, its blue lights providing a lurid disco effect blending with the orange versions on the flatbed recovery vehicle parked alongside. He pulled his Escort onto the farm track.

As he got out, a young constable approached. “Excuse me, sir. Can I ask your business?”

Souter had to control himself from chuckling at the officious way the question was phrased. “Business? Oh, sorry, you’ve probably not been told but Detective Inspector, oh,” he paused and smiled, “that should be Detective Chief Inspector Strong asked me to pop down and take a look around.”

The officer produced a notebook. “Did he, sir. And your name is?”

“Souter. Robert Souter,” he said, straightening himself to his full six foot two inches.

The policeman made a note. “Well if you’d just keep clear of the recovery vehicle operations, for your own safety, you understand.”

“Sure, no problems.” Souter turned away smiling.

He walked up the dusty track as Strong and Stainmore had done an hour before. At the top, he stopped and looked out over the surrounding countryside. Below, Susan’s car was on the lorry, being driven away and the police vehicle was about to follow. Elsewhere, open fields rolled out. Unless the car was driven here and abandoned by a third party, this farmyard seemed the most logical place for Susan to have come.

He checked out the newer building, peering through the window. He could see nothing of interest.

Next the house. He pushed the door, testing it wouldn’t fall off its one remaining hinge as he stepped past. The wooden floor boards groaned and he could feel the floor give slightly. After the bright sunshine outside, he paused, allowing his eyes time to adjust to the semi-darkness. The central section of the hallway flooring had given way so he kept close to the edge and began to make his way slowly round towards the open door of one of the front rooms. As he moved away from the front door, he allowed sunlight to stream down into the void beneath the floor. He hesitated. A shape could just be made out below. At first he thought it was some discarded rags but then he saw them for what they were; a pair of trouser-clad legs. Kneeling down to look further in, he saw the dust covered body propped up against the brick wall in the basement; the head slumped forward onto the chest.

“Shit,” he said softly. “Susan? Susan?” he repeated louder each time.

A low moan came from the body below and the head moved slightly.

“Hang on, Susan. I’ll get you out.”

He looked round the hallway. There were doors to the right and left, a staircase dead ahead and another door in the opposite wall to the side of it. There had to be access to the basement and he reasoned the most logical point would be below the stairs. Gingerly, he made his way round the edge of the hallway towards the rear. His instincts were correct. An angled door was featured in the timber panelling to the side of the staircase. He slid the bolt and pulled on the handle. It resisted for two attempts then, reluctantly gave with a loud creak; obviously never used for years. Carefully, he tried the steps, one at a time, aware they could be weak. Fortunately, they were sound and he finally stood on the basement floor.

Susan mumbled incoherently as Souter reached her.

“Susan. Susan, can you hear me?” He took hold of her hand.

“I’m, mmm,” she struggled.

“Okay, don’t try and speak, I’ll get …” he hesitated, his hand touched the matted blood in her hair, “… help.”

Pulling out his mobile, he checked the signal. Three bars, good. 999 for ambulance first then he tried Colin. Strong’s mobile was switched off but he left a message anyway.

Susan’s pulse was slow and erratic and her breathing was shallow. He hoped the ambulance would be quick.

“Come on, Susan,” Souter said softly. “Stay with me.” He took hold of her hand. “Just squeeze my hand if you can hear me.”

He could feel her grip tighten slightly.

“You’re doing well. The ambulance is on its way. We’ll soon get you to hospital.” She gently squeezed again in acknowledgement. “Your sister, Gillian, was worried about you. She’ll be glad to know you’re okay.”

For the next ten minutes, he kept talking to her, kept making her respond. Finally, he could hear a siren in the distance and made his way up the basement staircase and out into the yard to make sure the ambulance crew would know where to come.

They were a good fifteen minutes attending to Susan below before they brought her out on a spinal board. The paramedic seemed concerned for her condition. Souter could hear him radio in and the conclusion reached was that they take her straight to the General Infirmary in Leeds.

*    *    *

Strong stormed into the CID room just after eleven and discovered Stainmore and Ormerod poring over paperwork.

“Have you two been here all morning?”

“Yes, guv,” Stainmore replied.

“We’ve found out where …”

Strong interrupted Ormerod. “What did I ask both of you to do? One thing. One bloody thing and you can’t even be arsed to do it. You’d rather spend time fucking about with paperwork.”

The pair looked shocked.

Sam Kirkland was the only other detective present. Strong turned his attention to him. “Did you and Trevor sort out some house to house by Susan Brown’s flat?”

“Er, yes, guv,” Newell replied nervously. “Trevor’s down there now with a couple of PC’s.”

“Right, at least there are still some detectives I can rely on. You come with me, forget those dud fivers you’ve been investigating. There’s something far more important.” He turned to face Stainmore and Ormerod. “Susan Brown has been found in the basement of Meadow Woods Farmhouse. And before you ask, she’s in a bad way; broken leg and a head injury.”

Strong turned and left the room with Newell in his wake, leaving Stainmore and Ormerod speechless.

*    *    *

Souter spotted Strong and Newell approaching the Accident and Emergency entrance and stepped outside to meet them.

“Thanks, Bob,” Strong said.

“How come you never found her?”

Strong turned to Newell. “Trevor, I’ll see you inside.” He waited until the detective was out of earshot. “People let me down,” he said, in a low voice.

Souter just gave a withering look.

“I know, I know.” Strong held up his hands as if in submission. “The buck stops here. If it’s any consolation, I feel like shit myself.”

“I’m sure Gillian will be relieved.”

“Never mind that,” Strong retorted, “Don’t you dare use me as an excuse for gaining entry to a scene under investigation again.”

“Hold on, there was no police tape, only some wet behind the ears plod who asked me some stupid question then gave me some safety advice. Nothing about not being able to wander up to the farm. And don’t forget, if I hadn’t, Susan would still be there.”

“You know what I’m saying.”

For a second or two, there was an uneasy silence before Strong broke it. “So how is Susan?”

“She’s about to have an operation on her leg. They need to set it and they’re worried about the circulation. She must have been down there for three days. I heard mention of infection but I don’t know for sure. Also her head injury was being checked out. She was never really conscious from when I found her to getting here. Once she’s out of theatre, there’ll be a bed in Intensive Care. I think they were talking about an induced coma to give her time to recover, but I couldn’t be one hundred per cent on that.”

“So no clue as to how she ended up out there?”

“Not really. Like I said, it would appear that she fell through the rotten floor of the farmhouse but why she was there …” Souter shrugged.

“All right, thanks again. I’ll just have a word with the medics.” Strong began to walk towards the doors.

“Listen, Col, before you go, have you had any other missing women reported?”

Strong turned.

There was no mistaking the reaction.

“Why?”

“There is something isn’t there?” Souter caught up with his friend again. “Is it to do with prostitutes?”

“Prostitutes? What makes you say that?”

“There is at least one other girl missing though isn’t there?”

“Well, yes but we’ve no reason to suspect she was on the game.”

“So you know nothing about a street girl going missing on Sunday night?”

Strong shook his head.

“Or any others in recent weeks?”

“No. The only Misper case we have is an Albanian woman who hasn’t been seen since Thursday.”

“All right, mate. I’ll let you get on,” Souter said and then, almost as an afterthought, “Listen, don’t beat yourself up. At least Susan’s safe.”

10

“You two. My office please.”

Stainmore and Ormerod dutifully followed the DCI.

Strong sat down at his desk. “Close the door will you.”

Ormerod did as asked.

“Look, guv, we’re really sorry about letting you down this morning but …”