Twisted Bones (A DI Fenella Sallow Crime Thriller Book 3), page 16
She was about to start the engine when a sharp tap sounded on the driver-side window. Two slits pressed against the glass.
Pastor Bain.
Fenella would have yelled bloody murder, but he was a pastor, and she wanted her team to get another chance to speak with his boy, so she quelled her fury and lowered the window.
"Do you need a hand?" he said.
"No, pet, just leaving."
"I saw you when I was standing on the doorstep. Were you watching me?"
"I'm a detective, luv. That's what we do."
"I want you to leave us alone." He craned his neck through the window, eyes darting around as though he were searching for someone. "That goes for Flynn too. Do I make myself clear?"
He turned and marched with surprising speed back to the guest house.
Chapter forty-eight
As Fenella drove down the lane that led to Bowder Woods, she felt heat rise up her neck.
A line of media trucks blocked the road. Men in sharp suits and women with perfect hair stood in front of television cameras. How the hell did they get here so fast?
She climbed from the car and surveyed the scene. More press vehicles ambled along the lane. Crews with cameras and microphones hurried to set up their equipment. The crap was flying. Soon it would hit the fan.
A frigid wind whistled through the trees. The sky threatened rain. She headed towards the police cordon. Two uniformed officers kept back the press. One looked so small, the helmet came down over his ears, and the other had a face full of acne. Locals snapped photos on their mobile phones. A carnival of sorts. Like Halloween in March. Grim and gruesome.
"Oi, Fenella."
A ratty-faced man in a dirty, green duffel coat broke away from the pack. He scurried towards Fenella, glancing over his shoulder as he went. Rodney Rawlings—Westmorland News.
"Might have known it would be your case," he said. "What nuggets of gold have you got for your old friend?"
"No comment," Fenella replied.
"Aw, come on. Throw me a bone, will ya?"
"There is nowt in the dog biscuit tin."
"I want to help."
"Then leave me be. Let me get on with my job."
"What! You don't want my help?" He lowered his voice. "Some of my colleagues are already calling for resignations. Not me, though. You scratch my back, and I'll scratch yours, eh?"
Fenella stared at him for so long, his nose began to twitch. Like the bugger is trying to sniff the story out of me. She cast a quick glance at the police cordon and then the lane. Another media truck pulled to the verge. A BBC National News van.
"Just a quick word or two to help an old friend out," he said. "For old times' sake."
She considered.
Yes, it would be best to have Rodney Rawlings on her side. He was local. That counted much more than the national press. And the case had only moved forwards an inch or two. An appeal to the public might generate new leads. That was the next step if they didn't make progress soon. What bone to throw him?
She took a deep breath, exhaled slow, and said, "Off the record, right?"
"Anything you toss my way is between you and me." He made a slight bow as though in the presence of royalty. "Journalists of integrity always protect their sources. My only interest is to report the facts. Just the facts, ma'am."
"Let's keep it that way," Fenella replied. "Like you said, for old times' sake."
Rawlings grinned. His yellowed teeth looked like fangs. "You have no idea how things have changed in my business. It's worse than working in a sewer in the newsroom these days. Sensational headlines over pure news. My God, if I find a fresh angle and they get a whiff"—he pointed his sharp nose towards the media gaggle—"they'll snatch it right from my mouth and twist it till it sounds like some bleedin' fairy tale. I got to stay ahead of the pack. The thieving sods are worse than rats."
"Nothing's changed, then," Fenella replied.
Rawlings scowled, then scratched an itch in his armpit. "Word on the street is the kid's name is Jade Marsh. Posh family, lives in the village of Grange?"
The police never confirmed names this early in an investigation. That didn’t stop the press from asking. They made a game of discovering the details. A game the police rarely won.
Again, Fenella considered. There was nowt to lose. He'd dig up the details by nightfall with or without her help.
"Aye," she replied. "Happen so."
Rawlings clapped his hands. "I hear a ransom was paid."
"At the present, our focus is on finding the missing child."
"Come on! Don't hold back on me now. How much?"
"This is an ongoing investigation, so I can't give an exact figure. But it is a significant amount."
Rawlings cast a glance at the police cordon as though he were worried the other journalists might catch on and come hurrying over. "Reckon the kid is still alive?"
"Our goal is to bring Jade Marsh home."
Rawlings grinned, exposing jagged teeth. "Thing is, I heard you lot found her pyjamas." He paused. Licked his lips. "Drenched in her blood."
No point denying it now. If Rodney Rawlings knew, it wouldn’t be long before the rest of the pack found out.
"Yes. We have Jade's pyjamas." Fenella felt a lump form in her throat. "And yes, they were covered in blood."
He made a glugging sound with his throat, glanced around, and said, "And the woman chopped up and left on the Bowder Stone was Liz Slough, the nanny?"
"Aye."
His head darted this way and that as though searching for someone who might have overheard. At last, Rawlings let out a low whistle, then said, "This dog will fly to the moon and back. What do you think happened to the brat?"
"Jade Marsh is disabled," Fenella snapped. "The bairn can't speak. Can't walk and suffers from stunted growth. She is hardly a brat."
"Even better." He rocked from foot to foot. "This one's gonna sell. Do you have a picture of the kid? Did she have Bambi eyes?"
"Leave it alone, Rodney. Focus on Liz Slough. Do a bit of digging and track down her friends. Let me know what you find out."
But Rodney Rawlings couldn’t leave it alone. More glugging noises came from his throat, and his body juddered with excitement.
He said, "Helpless child snatched from distraught parents. I'm trying to work a headline, find an angle. Come on, Fenella. Help me out. Does the kid have a cute face?"
Fenella clenched her fists, wanted to swing for him, but there were too many cameras. A photograph of the senior investigating officer punching a reporter would not go down well in Carlisle. Nor would Superintendent Jeffery appreciate her brawling with the press, given the stalled status of her Safe Fells and Trails plan.
She took another deep breath. "Our officers are engaged in an active search to find Jade Marsh."
Rodney Rawlings wasn't listening. He was muttering to himself. "Bloodstained pyjamas. Nanny sliced and diced on top the Bowder Stone." He paused, eyes growing wide. "My God! It's bleedin' obvious, ain't it? Crippled child dwarf sacrificed with nanny to appease the Druid gods. You lot ought to be on the watch for religious folk with weirdo ideas. This story will be huge."
He hurried off, head down, and tapping into his phone.
Chapter forty-nine
At the police tape, Fenella flashed her warrant card. The officer with the small head and large helmet raised the tape so she could pass through.
In an instant she was on the other side, and the urgent voices of the press faded. Cold air clutched like icy fingers in this part of the dark woods. In the distance, the harsh white from the portable arc lamps made shimmering shadows of the trees. Wind picked up leaves and threw them in a frenzy. Fenella trudged along the dirt trail, head down to fight off the chill—a moth headed for the light.
She came to the spot where the lamps shone brightest—the clearing where they'd found Jade Marsh's pyjamas. A generator hummed softly. Not much else. Little sign of police activity. Fenella glanced at her watch: almost two o'clock. Lunchtime was long over. Where was everyone?
A lone officer blew on her hands, then poked at a bush with a stick. That was it. That was the extent of the active search for Jade Marsh. Most officers were huddled in a van, their dark outline visible through the fogged-up windows.
Why weren't they combing the bushes? Where were the cadaver dogs?
A surge of dread consumed her. Had they found Jade's body?
"Any news?" Fenella shouted at the police officer.
The woman stopped, leaned on the stick, and said, "Nothing new to report, Inspector Sallow."
She picked up the stick and resumed her lonely search.
Red-hot anger surged through Fenella. It mingled with deep sadness. They'd given up. The buggers were in the van where it was warm. They'd stay there until it was time to knock off. Then they'd be taken back to the station for a sausage roll and a hot mug of tea.
Fenella ran to the van. Her fist pounded the back door. It opened a crack as though the person on the handle had been warned not to let the heat out. She yanked. The door flew wide open. Uniformed officers stared in horror. They sipped from tea flasks, and a group at the far end hurriedly ended a card game.
The duty sergeant was one of the card players. He said, "Just having a tea break, ma'am."
"Oh aye," Fenella said. Her blood boiled so hot, she felt like she could spit flames. "And you've left one bugger out in the cold poking at bushes, eh?"
The duty sergeant flushed. "We've combed the area and found nowt."
"Well, comb it again," Fenella yelled. "I want every blade of grass, every leaf, every place where Jade Marsh might be hiding searched again."
"Yes, ma'am."
"And where are the dogs?"
"They had to go, ma'am. Another call."
Fenella slapped the van with her hand and turned to stare at the grass, trees, and bushes. In the distance, she saw a ripple of light.
"That lake," she said. "You've searched that area, right?"
The sergeant stared and blinked. "The dogs have been over there. Found nothing."
"Get the divers in."
He looked at her as if she were mad.
"They'll have to come from Carlisle," he said. "It will take hours."
"I want you on duty until they are done. Do I make myself clear?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"You are wasting your time, Inspector."
The male voice came from the back of the van. For the first time she noticed the man in an expensive pinstriped suit.
He said, "I'm Dr Craig Wilde. Jade Marsh's doctor and the force medical examiner today. When I heard about the kidnapping, I phoned my dear friend Chief Inspector Alfred Rae and told him I wanted to help." His face clouded with sadness. "Without her medicine, Jade will have fallen into a coma and—"
"I know," Fenella barked. "That's why these lazy sods ought to be out there searching."
Dr Wilde glanced at his watch and shook his head. "In my estimation, Jade will have died by now. There is no hope she will be found alive." He raked a hand through his hair. "The end would have come quick. Peaceful. She'd not have known what was happening. Thank God."
"Aye, happen you're right, " Fenella said and felt sick. "That doesn’t stop the search, though."
Dr Wilde said, "Jade Marsh can't walk or talk. The child certainly could not crawl to that lake, and with the amount of blood I hear were on her pyjamas, well…"
"And the dogs have been over there," chipped in the sergeant. "You still want us to call in divers?"
"Aye, I do." Fenella held their gaze with the intensity of a mother bear. She'd bring that bairn home. "I want them to look under every bleedin' stone."
Chapter fifty
Fenella was back in the station, at her desk drinking a cup of lukewarm coffee and gazing blankly at the piles of paper on her desk.
Her team had their orders, and the search had resumed at Bowder Woods. Now in the lull, her goal was to start on the paperwork. But how could she fill in forms when she was still fuming inside?
She stood, walked to the window, and peered at the car park below. A uniformed officer hurried from the building, climbed into a patrol car, and drove off. She watched the flashing lights until they disappeared.
Maybe she should check in on Dexter or call Jones to see how they were getting along? She wondered if Fay Bright had discovered more about the "ghost" from Flynn. Then there was PC Beth Finn. What was she doing?
The instructor in her management training course said it was her role as a leader to set the direction and let her team run.
"Leave them to get on with the day to day while you act as a strategic resource. "
That meant sitting in the office, answering questions, and shuffling bits of paper to keep the bigwigs in Carlisle happy. Fenella took a sip of coffee and wondered if she'd missed something in the training. She'd sat at the front and wrote everything down.
She opened the window to let in some air. Its damp, frigid chill jolted her more than the bitter coffee. This evening she'd planned on dinner with her nurse friend, Gail Stubbs. And with Nan and Eduardo alongside, there'd be fun and chatter. Nan's blackberry-and-apple pie was always a hit. A chance to leave work behind.
Her mind drifted back to the job. She went to her desk, found a sheet of paper and a pen, and wrote what she knew.
Fact one—Liz Slough was murdered.
Fact two—Jade Marsh was gone and her blood-soaked pyjamas recovered.
Fact three—So was Steve Marsh's money.
She was about to write the fourth fact when she stopped, her mind on Flynn Bain. The person he saw in the back of the car had to be a friend of Liz Slough. In large letters she wrote a single word:
Who?
Then she reminded herself the question was not based on fact. The boy might have woken from a dream as his mother, Vale, had said. Or maybe the ghost was just one of Jade's toys. Still, if they could peg one of Liz's friends, that would be a huge step forwards. It would open the floodgates to others. So far, they had found out little about Liz Slough. Where did she live?
Fenella picked up her phone. She had to know what was happening. She'd start with Fay Bright. Jones next. Then Dexter. If there was time before she headed home, she'd have a quick chat with PC Beth Finn. Best to keep her finger on the pulse. Yes, that's what they missed in the management training. Poking about in her team's business was the best way to set the strategic direction. She'd add it to her notes.
She jabbed at her phone. The screen flickered to life as the door flew open and Dexter rushed into the room.
"Guv," he gasped, chest heaving. "There's been a breakthrough in the Jade Marsh case."
Chapter fifty-one
"My name is Linda Limón, and I killed Liz Slough."
Fenella and Dexter sat at the table in Interview Room A, eyes fixed on the woman. She was in her mid-thirties, wore a black tweed skirt, cream blouse, with her hair pulled back into a sharp bun. No make-up, and a stern face with the look of a librarian or old-time school teacher from the days when they used to write on blackboards with chalk. A uniformed female officer stood by the door.
"Me and Liz were best friends," the woman said. "What I did is so wrong, it breaks my heart. I can't live with it, that's why I'm here. Do you understand?"
"Now, slow down a bit, luv," Fenella replied. "So my colleague can write the details."
Dexter pulled out his notebook, pen poised.
"Don't you guys record interviews on digital devices these days?" she asked.
"We'll get to that in a bit, pet. First, can you tell us your name again for the record?"
"Miss Linda Limón."
"Aye, that's what they told us at the front desk," Fenella replied.
"It'd save time if you recorded it," said Miss Limón. "Save us all a lot of bother."
"First, we need to hear your story," Fenella said. "Then we'll go over it again for the record."
"Like I say, I killed Liz Slough." Miss Limón folded her arms, stared down at the table. "It wasn't an accident."
Dexter's pen moved so fast across the page, it made a screeching sound.
Fenella said, "How'd you know Liz Slough?"
"We go back years, went to school together in Whitehaven. Always hated each other."
"Not friends, then?"
"Once. But we fell out years back."
"Why?"
"It was silly, really, but we were young. We fell out over a bloke. He was older than us but seemed so mature." Miss Limón hugged herself. "Rab, that's what his name was."
"What was this bloke’s last name?" The question came from Dexter. He was supposed to keep quiet, watch and write, but couldn’t help himself.
"Don't recall." She fluttered her eyelashes at him. "But he weren't as good looking as you."
Dexter grinned. Fenella gave him a sharp look.
"Me and Liz were enemies ever since," Miss Limón said. She stopped and blinked. "We were friends too. Well, I was her only real friend. Liz was a loner. Sad really, but she found it hard to connect with folk. I loathed her, though."
Fenella leaned forwards, so her elbows were on the table. "Hated Liz enough to do away with the lass, did you?"
"That's right."
The officer who stood by the door shifted position. Her boots clattered on the concrete floor. Miss Limón coughed.
Fenella said, "Tell us what happened last Friday."
"I killed her; isn't that enough?"
"We're the police, luv. We have to get the details down."
"All these questions are doing my head in," Miss Limón said as she fidgeted with her hands. "I did it, all right?"
"We have to have the details before we record it on tape. Tell me what happened."
Miss Limón took a deep breath. She placed her hands palms down on the table. "We planned to meet at Bowder Woods. I got there early, waited by a clump of bushes so I wouldn’t be seen."
"You weren't with Liz in the car, then?"
