Concrete Evidence (39 page)

“That could take your lot weeks!” he laughed. “I’ll save you some money.”

“Please do,” Annie was curious. He had been a police analyst after all.

“As teenagers, they were both represented by the same solicitor,” he paused for reaction. Annie felt the skin on her neck glow and tingle. “Have a guess at his name, Inspector.”

“I can’t do that,” she said. Suggesting a name to him would cause problems later on. “You know I can’t.”

“I’ll put you out of your misery,” he shouted. “Geoff Ryder.” He waited for a reply. “Ring any bells, Inspector?” he chuckled but there was no mirth in his tone. “Brendon Ryder’s uncle! Coincidence?” he waited again. “Nothing to say, Inspector?”

“I’m thinking,” Annie said flatly.

“Get your people to check.”

“I will.”

“He’s behind the entire thing,” he said quietly. “He planned Simon’s abduction. He is responsible for what happened to me but do you know what is worse, much worse?”

“Go on,” Annie said. If his information was correct, it changed a myriad of things past and present.

“I’ve been following murders all over the world and I’ve been trying to track him and Tod Harris as much as I could. It was difficult but not impossible.” He paused to think about his next words. “It doesn’t make much difference what happens to me now but I’m convinced that you shot the wrong member of the Ryder family.”

“I get the picture,” Annie said calmly. She could see how engrossed in his search for answers he had become. It was all consuming to the point where he was blinded by the most dubious connections. Now wasn’t to the time to enter into debate with him. “I can give you my word that we’ll look into everything that you have to say but you have to pull over right now and let us get Becky out of the van. You’re running out of time, Peter.” He remained quiet. “If you stop of your own accord, it will look better later on.”

“In court?”

“There’s nothing else to be gained. You’ve made your point, now stop the van.”

“I can’t go back to jail, Inspector.”

“Who knows what will happen?” Annie lied. “There are extenuating circumstances surrounding everything you have done. Don’t make things any worse and you have a chance.”

“I don’t think so. I’m screwed.”

“Maybe not. But if you don’t stop the van, you’ll never know will you?”

There was silence on the line for long minutes. Annie had to let him think about what he was going to do. “Inspector.”

“I’m here.”

“I slipped up didn’t I?”

“What, generally or are you relating to something specific like kidnapping a detective?” she joked although there was no malice in her jibe.

“Funny,” he appreciated the humour. “You know that I went to see Harris’s mother don’t you?”

“I worked it out.”

“I knew that she had to know something. When Taylor told me that Harris had kept the library book, I knew it.”

“You were right.”

“I pretended to be a detective and I frightened her into telling me about the book.” He paused as he thought about what he had done. The old lady had been terrified. “I know what you’re thinking but I didn’t take the book there and plant it. She showed it to me and I begged her to show it to you. I didn’t think that she would top herself.”

“Okay. I believe that,” Annie lied again.

“And I didn’t kill her.”

“She committed suicide.”

“But now that I have admitted talking to her, they’ll reexamine the scene and the body won’t they?”

“You know that they will.”

“I need you to believe that I didn’t kill her.”

“What I believe is irrelevant. It’s what the evidence proves that matters. If you’re telling the truth, you’ve got nothing to worry about have you?” There was another uncomfortable silence. Annie could almost hear the cogs of his mind turning. She almost understood the turmoil that he was going through.

“Inspector.”

“Yes.”     

“Tell your people that I’m pulling over.”

“Okay. Do it slowly. When you’ve stopped, turn off the engine and throw the keys out of the window. Then listen to the armed officers and do everything that they say, okay?”

“Make sure you look through my work, Inspector.”

“We will.”

“Geoff Ryder is a killer.”

“I’ll look at everything you have said.”

“Harris is a puppet.”

“Concentrate on doing what the officers tell you or they will shoot you, understand?”

“Goodbye, Inspector.” Annie heard the line disconnect and the hairs on the back of her hands stood on end.

CHAPTER 43

              Peter Barton checked the wing mirrors. The convoy of police interceptors had grown in numbers. He recognised that the traffic police had dropped back to allow the armed units to take pole position. They were poised to surround him the moment he stopped the vehicle. The motorway began to climb a long incline and as the past beneath an overhead gantry of signs, he knew that they were nearly there. He switched on the hazard lights and put his right hand out of the driver’s window and waved it to signal that he was slowing down. Two vehicles moved forward taking up positions on either side of the back of the van. The officers inside were only metres away from him. Their faces were expressions of pure hate. To them, he was a convicted child killer and could be involved in the slaying of one of their own. He knew that they would drop him at the blink of an eye. The engine laboured as the slope increased in gradient and he dropped it into third gear. His headlights picked out a motorway sign to his left that welcomed him to Preston.

The timing couldn’t have been better. As the van reached the brow of the hill, that rolled steeply down into the Ribble Valley, Peter floored the accelerator. The van set off like a rocket completely wrong-footing the police drivers. Peter gritted his teeth as the accelerator needle climbed over sixty. A swarm of blue lights swerved left and right trying to overtake him but he narrowed the gap on the left hand side. Peter pulled the van across the left hand lane onto the hard-shoulder showering the vehicles behind with grit and glass. Four interceptors used the empty lanes and screamed past him to his right and the helicopter dropped as low as it dared dazzling him with its spotlight. Barton waited for the gap in the crash barrier. He knew it was there as he had used it before. It was where he had planned to leave the motorway anyway. The police used the lay by as a speed trap on a regular basis and he prayed that there wasn’t an interceptor parked there now. Long seconds went by as he shielded his eyes from the blinding spotlight. A voice bellowed instructions at him from a loud hailer. “Pull over now!” He ignored the orders and struggled to keep the vehicle on an even keel as he waited for the gap to appear. “Pull over now!” An interceptor roared past him on the right and lurched across the lanes into his path. Its brake lights dazzled him as it tried to slow him down. Suddenly he saw the gap in the barriers and wrenched the steering wheel to the left on full lock. He closed his eyes, gritted his teeth and waited for the impact.

Becky was flung sideways as the vehicle veered sharply. The van was travelling at ridiculous speed tilted sharply to one side. She felt her ribs crack as she bounced of the metal and tumbled over and over before slamming into the bulkhead. She felt her shoulder pop from its socket and she screamed as the red hot pain engulfed her nervous system. The breath was knocked from her lungs and she struggled to suck air into them. She gasped desperately trying to drag air into her chest and panic gripped her as the overwhelming sensation of suffocating swamped her. Tears streamed from her eyes and mingled with the blood from her head. She felt like a marble in a jam jar as the van hit something hard and she was launched violently into the air again. Her fingers clutched at fresh air as she grabbed desperately at the side of the van to steady herself but she was tossed into the void before crashing down with a sickening thud.

Peter dragged the steering wheel hard left. The van careered over the lay by and hit the kerb, catapulting it upwards over a grass embankment. The front wheels span uselessly in the air as the van was launched over the embankment and into the steep gorge. Becky had the sensation of weightlessness as the vehicle cleared the grassy bank and plunged headlong into the black fast flowing waters of the River Ribble.

                                    CHAPTER 44

              The van was almost vertical when it hit the water. He had the sense to release the steering wheel, which stopped his wrist from being snapped on impact. The splashing sound was deafening and the windscreen was thumped out of the rubbers. It cracked into pieces allowing the icy water to flood into the cab. Peter Barton held his breath as the water gushed in. The freezing river numbed his limbs in seconds. The water level rose quickly, engulfing him and he reached blindly for the seatbelt release. The impact felt like hitting a brick wall at forty miles an hour and the combination of the cold water and whiplash had stunned him. The belt had bruised his ribs and winded him. His fingers fumbled with the clasp, clawing, scratching and pressing anything in the hope that it was the release button. The van spiralled deeper and he could feel the current carrying the vehicle along with ease. Its size was insignificant in comparison to the power of the river.

              When the van hit the river, Becky was catapulted the full length of the van. She hit the bulkhead with bone breaking force. Her skull cracked against the metal splitting her scalp from her forehead back to her crown. Blood gushed from the deep gash and blinding white pain flashed through her brain. The pain in her shoulder was unbearable; each movement sent another wave of mind bending agony to her already stunned nervous system. She could feel her body shutting down, her brain refusing to take any more pain. Her senses were fading. She was confused when she heard the deafening splash and the sound of water gushing into the cab and only when the icy liquid hit her did she realise that the vehicle was beginning to submerge.

The water was black and freezing. Peter Barton was completely submerged and his lungs were screaming for oxygen. The urge to breathe out and suck in the icy liquid was overwhelming. He scrabbled with the belt and tugged desperately at the clip. His brain told him to slow down, stop panicking or he would die. He followed the line of the fastener with his fingertips and finally felt the release button click and the seatbelt fell away. The van sank lower as he fumbled with the door handle but it wouldn’t budge. He slammed his weight against it time after time but it wouldn’t open. He kicked out with his feet against the bulkhead trying to dislodge the glass from the broken windscreen. The cracks gave way and it disintegrated without too much effort; he found himself swimming down through the windscreen into the river. The weight of the sinking van pushed him down deeper still. He grabbed at the wing mirror to right himself, flapped his arms and kicked for the surface. His lungs threatened to defy his brain and breathe in.

              Becky felt her senses returning as the icy water revived her. It flooded into the rear of the van, the pressure pinned her to the bulkhead. She struggled for air and tried to stand but the water made her spin and somersault. She was racked with pain and the blow to her head had disorientated her. The bitter cold sapped every ounce of energy from her limbs. The sensation of floating in a vortex increased her panic. She wasn’t sure which way she was facing. Becky stopped thrashing for a moment and she felt the water lift her towards the open door. She paddled aimlessly with her good arm desperately trying to keep her head above the deluge. As the water level evened out, the pressure lessened. Her head bobbed above the water and she sucked in air noisily. She was free of the van and she could see dozens of blue lights flashing at the top of the riverbank. The sound of the helicopter whirred above her. Torchlight pierced the darkness, sweeping across the river from one side to the other. She wanted to shout for help but her muscles were frozen by pain and the cold. Sheer exhaustion pulled at her consciousness. Giving up and letting sleep take her would be so easy.
Relax, Rebecca, close your eyes and let go
,
it won’t hurt anymore
.

              Peter Barton broke the surface and gasped for air. He clung to the back door of the van, which was now just below the surface. He coughed to clear his airways and looked around. The van had drifted a hundred metres from where it entered the water and the current was taking it further down river. Torchlight from the river bank swept across him. The police were in pursuit on foot but they were struggling to keep up through the undergrowth. The van had floated to the centre of the river but he could feel the water dragging it down into the depths. He needed to get to the far bank. He took a breath and readied himself to push off when he heard gurgling and a splash.

              Barton turned back to the van and watched as the detective floated to the surface, coughing and spluttering. Her head was tilted to the sky, her mouth open and her face was covered in blood; she appeared to make no effort to swim or tread water. Shouts from the riverbank shook him into action. The helicopter swooped over the river illuminating the scene with its spotlight. He was about to swim for freedom when the detective sunk beneath the water. Barton waited a moment. Surely she would come back to the surface. He felt the van sink away from him and watched as bubbles floated to the surface at the point Rebecca Sebastian had been. The water was inky black. He shook his head and cursed himself as he dived beneath the water to find her. 

         Becky felt herself sinking into the darkness but it didn’t matter. The pain, which tortured her body was fading. She was floating into a blackness that she had never seen before, darker than dark, colder than ice but welcoming all the same. There was no energy left inside her. The will to survive had been knocked from her. She had been rendered weary and helpless by the struggle. Her lungs gave out and released her last breath and she heard the bubbles racing skyward. Peace seeped through her veins.

              Barton dived and found nothing. His hands reached blindly in the inky water. He resurfaced and gasped for air before diving down once more. His fingers touched her hair and he dived deeper still. Her arms were floating limply above her and he grabbed at them trying to get a grip on her. He reached beneath her arms and stopped her from sinking any further. As the current clawed at them, he kicked towards the dazzling spotlight above. As they broke the surface, he gasped for air. His face was numb and his teeth chattered uncontrollably. “Breathe,” he whispered but there was no response. He wrapped his arms tightly around her chest and jerked hard. She rasped air into her lungs and spluttered but her body was still limp. There was no way that she could make it to safety alone. “Just keep breathing,” he gasped as he turned onto his back and kicked for the riverbank.      

CHAPTER 45

              Annie slept fitfully, her dreams haunted by images of the dead. The sounds of the police headquarters coming to life drifted to her. Voices and laughter, doors slamming and footsteps on the stairs. She pulled the coat that warmed her over her head and tried to vanquish her sleep demons. Her body was exhausted but her brain was still racing. It wouldn’t allow her any peace as it constantly searched for answers. She checked her watch. It was five thirty. She had been resting for two hours. Her mind begged for more time to recover. She pulled her knees to her chest and drifted back into her troubled slumber.

              “Guv,” she heard a second later. “Wake up, Guv.” She felt a hand nudging her shoulder.

              She peered out of her makeshift blanket and the light made her squint. Stirling stood next to cot. “Not what I want to see when I first open my eyes in a morning,” she moaned. “Tell me you’ve brought coffee,” she said looking at her watch. It was just turned nine. “Shit!” she sat up with a start. “Why didn’t someone wake me up sooner?”

              “The super said to let you sleep,” Stirling said. “You must have needed it, Guv. Coffee and bacon sandwiches are on the way. I’ll see you in the office when you’re ready.” He turned to walk away.

              “Any news on Becky?” Annie stood up and stretched. Guilt gripped her. How could she have slept so long when one of her detectives was fighting for her life in intensive care?

“There were complications apparently,” Stirling grimaced. “She was taken by air ambulance to the specialist neurology unit.

They’ve finished with her in surgery but she’s in an induced coma because of the swelling on her brain.”

              “And Barton?”

              “No sign of him yet. The armed unit inspector reckons he’s probably drowned. They say that he dragged Becky to the riverbank. Saved her life by all accounts but he went back into the water when the armed unit approached.” Annie looked thoughtful. There was a deep conflict between being grateful to Barton for rescuing Becky and wanting to shoot him for taking her in the first instance. Stirling could see her struggling. “Take your time, I’ll see you upstairs, Guv.”

              “Yes,” Annie said flustered. “Sorry, I’m still groggy. I’ll get a quick wash and follow you.” Stirling smiled and nodded. Annie sighed and thought about the day ahead. Whatever happened, it would be a long one. She picked up her coat and bag and headed for the washrooms. The thought of hot coffee and food spurred her on. She couldn’t remember the last time that she had eaten.

              Alec looked out of the window and watched the choppy waters of the river rush past to the sea. Early morning rush hour was in full flow and the streets below were busy. Their case was running wild and galloping in one direction and then another. The involvement of foreign police departments had both helped and hindered the investigation but now their involvement had been escalated to the upper echelons of government. Things would get worse before they got better. The fact that Tod Harris was already in custody was the only thing that was keeping the pressure at bay. The kidnap of Rebecca Sebastian had hit the team hard. The only upside was that it was another force that was responsible for allowing Peter Barton to avoid capture. There was a Detective Superintendent in the Lancashire Constabulary that would have a bad day today. Alec felt for him but it was all part of the job. A knock on the door disturbed his thoughts. “Come in,” he called.

              Annie poked her head around the door. He restrained from telling her how rough she looked. There would be no thanks for honesty in this case. “You want to see us, Guv?”

              “Yes please,” Alec replied and returned to his desk.

              Annie opened the door fully and stepped inside carrying three cups in one hand, Stirling was close behind. He carried a tray with a jug of coffee and a plate of bacon sandwiches.

“Coffee, Guv?” Stirling grunted with a smile.

              “Definitely,” Alec smiled. “How are you feeling?” he asked Annie.

              “Better for some sleep, thanks.”

              “Good,” Alec nodded. “We have some very important news from our friends in Benidorm.”

              “About the number plates?” Annie asked surprised.

              “Yes,” Alec nodded. “They traced the second plate to an abandoned hire business on the outskirts of the resort. Apparently, when the business folded, there were a number of vehicles left to rot. One of them was the vehicle that we are looking for.” Alec paused while Stirling handed him a mug of coffee.

              “That’s great news isn’t it?” Annie was confused by Alec’s demeanour. He didn’t appear enthusiastic about the discovery at all. “Why do I get the feeling that this isn’t good news?”

              Alec sighed and sipped his brew. “A Guardia officer went to investigate last night. From what they can gather, he found the number plate. It was on a campervan and for some reason he entered the vehicle.” Annie felt her nerves jangle. She guessed what was coming although she hoped that she was wrong. “They don’t know what he found because the vehicle exploded.” Alec shrugged. “First impressions are that it was an incendiary device.”

              “Is he dead?” Stirling asked.

              “Yes. Jose Peres, twelve years on the job, father of three.” Alec read from his notes.

              “Oh dear God,” Annie shook her head. “We warned them that there could be booby-traps when we sent the communiqué.” She was flabbergasted. “Why on earth did they send an officer alone and why wasn’t he warned?”

              “Their top brass are playing it down by claiming it was a translation issue.”

              “What is the Spanish for ‘complete fuckup’?” Annie scoffed. “The poor man and what about his family? I bet his wife will feel much better knowing it was a translation issue.”

              “I wonder what he found,” Stirling added as he bit into his sandwich. “There were no devices planted in San Francisco,” he shrugged as he chewed. “If his previous MO is applied then there was a victim in that campervan. We won’t know until forensics come in and that could be a while.”

              “How much credence are you giving to what Barton had to say?” Alec raised his eyebrows.

              “I honestly don’t know,” Annie sighed. She looked at the bacon sandwich in her hand and forced herself to bite it. Her appetite had vanished after hearing the news from Spain. “Barton implicated Geoff Ryder as being behind all of this. Can you believe that?”