Settled Blood (42 page)

Hanging on to the straps of her backpack, she set off again, wondering how Cole was doing, hoping he was having more luck than she was. Her heart was thumping with sheer exhaustion by the time
she reached the chamber. It was now or never. Dipping her head low, she went in.

On the far side, she was able to stand upright for the first time since entering the mine. It took all her resolve just to haul her wet, aching body off the floor. But as she raised her head and
lifted the torch, her blood ran cold.

She let out a gasp.

No!

Taking a small step backwards, she sank to her knees, effectively blocking off the entrance. A whimper echoed in the chamber. This was not Jessica calling for help but the sound of her own
voice.

Two rats paddled by, their beady eyes glowing in the darkness. This time Daniels didn’t flinch, flail around, or scream. She was too traumatized by the sight facing her to pay them any
mind.

‘Kate!’

A faraway voice called out to her.

It was calm, not unduly alarmed, a man’s voice, she thought. Cole maybe? The TSG? Whether it was real or imagined, Daniels couldn’t tell. She didn’t care anymore. Caring for
people hadn’t turned out well up to now: Mum, Dad, Jo, Jessica . . . all the victims who’d gone before. In different ways, she’d cared for them all, some personally, others in the
course of a so-called dream job.

Being a murder detective occasionally gave her an adrenalin rush but most times not. If she was being honest, the majority of the time it was gross – pitiless, vicious, repulsive –
and totally unbearable. Right now she ached to turn in her warrant card and walk away.

‘Kate?’

She turned and looked over her shoulder.

In the tunnel, Cole stopped dead in his tracks when he saw her, tears unashamedly running down her face, the torch shaking in her bloodstained hand.

‘You don’t want to go in there,’ she said gently.

‘S
he’s breathing, just.’ Daniels wiped her nose on her sodden sleeve and stopped snivelling. ‘We need to get her out of here now!’

‘You want me to go back and radio in?’

‘No time. Get the axe out. Quickly!’

Turning her back on him, Daniels hung on to the mouth of the chamber, obscuring its interior from Cole, wondering if she ought to let him in there. It was a crime scene after all.
A major
one
. She dismissed that thought. Keeping Jessica alive was her only priority and she needed his help. She’d preserve life over a crime scene any day of the week and worry about recovering
forensics later.

Refastening her backpack, Cole blew on his hands.

Daniels turned round. ‘You ready?’ she said.

He didn’t look ready, but he nodded anyway.

They crawled into the chamber, the DCI going first.

She shone the torch against the wall as they stood up straight.

Cole’s reaction was predictable for a civilian who’d never before witnessed a scene this horrific. Sadly, Daniels had. For a moment he stood there, unable to draw his eyes away from
what was, to all intents and purposes, a macabre crucifixion. Shaking both from cold and shock, his purple lips looked black in the darkened chamber. They turned down at the edges as he fought to
stay in control of his emotions. Observing at first hand the level of cruelty one human being could inflict on another was always the hardest part to endure.

Averting his eyes, he focused his torch and his attention on Daniels.

It took a moment for him to verbalize thought . . .

‘I saw some shit in the military, but I have to tell you . . .’

His voice trailed off.

An eerie silence prevailed, save for the drip, drip of water from the roof above. Sickened by what he’d seen, Cole hung his head a second, then looked up and let out a tirade of swear
words, enraged that the man responsible for Jessica’s incarceration had taken the coward’s way out and would not face justice. Daniels agreed with him, but didn’t comment, merely
pointed at the axe in the crook of his arm.

‘I’ll protect her hands, you get her down.’

‘No wait! I need to do something first.’

Cole swung into action then, dispelling all thoughts of Makepeace from his mind. They had a job to do and there was no time to waste. Handing her his torch, he slipped his arms out of the straps
of his own rucksack. Daniels didn’t argue, just trained the torch on him and moved towards the girl.

Jessica’s emaciated body hung from the chains that bound her, head lolling to one side, a tortured expression on her face. She looked as though she was dead. Putting two fingers gently on
her neck, Daniels felt a weak pulse and spoke a few words of encouragement, hoping she heard them. Coma patients had reported hearing the voices of loved ones. If Jessica knew she hadn’t been
abandoned it might make the difference between life and death.

‘I hope he burns in Hell.’ Cole had the bag open now. ‘Can you hold this?’

Daniels left Jessica’s side to help. With enormous difficulty, she took the bag from him, her injured hand almost collapsing under its weight. It must have weighed in excess of twenty-five
pounds. How he’d managed to lug it all the way from the entrance was anyone’s guess.

Removing what looked like a sturdy waterproof bag, Cole opened it up. Inside was a folded block of heavy duty plastic material – orange, yellow and black – and some strange looking
bellows. He began working hard, inflating what Daniels now realized was a floating stretcher, complete with zip-up survival cover, insulated to keep their casualty warm.

A lump formed in her throat. ‘You steal that piece of kit from your employer?’

Cole pretended he hadn’t noticed she was close to breaking down.

‘Nah, picked it up at Waitrose on my way to meet you. Wanna see the receipt?’

Blinking back tears of relief, the bedraggled SIO managed a weak smile. Cole had been her very last hope of finding Jessica in time to save her life. He’d stepped into the breach when
others would have hidden behind excuses. She could never repay him for that.

Cole took a much-needed breather. Soaked through and shivering uncontrollably, the effort required to work the bellows had taken its toll on him. He looked into her eyes and then started pumping
his arms again.

‘How the hell do you do it, Kate?’

Daniels’ tone was hard. ‘Someone has to.’

She knew then why she did it. Because no one else wanted to, was the short answer. Now back in command of her emotions, she pushed her doubts away. This was no time to wallow in self-pity or
make decisions on her future career. The police force was her life, the only life worth living, as far as she was concerned. She was bruised by it often. But bruises heal . . . eventually.

She hoped Jessica would too.

Cole was now done.

In silence they released Jessica from her restraints. Cole lifted her up and laid her gently in the stretcher, wrapping her up securely, like he was putting a child to bed. A few last words of
encouragement from Daniels and they began the journey back down the tunnel. It was touch and go whether Jess would make it. But at least they were taking her home.

D
aniels parked her bike at Hartside Pass, switched off the ignition and lifted her visor. From here she could see right across the Solway Firth to Scotland as well as
Helvellyn, Great Gable and Skiddaw in The Lakes. Taking off her leather gloves, she studied the scarring on her right hand and recalled the terrifying, rat-infested tunnel where she’d gashed
it.

Any shred of sympathy she might have felt for Jimmy Makepeace had quickly turned to rage that day. He had, as Cole said, taken the coward’s way out, leaving Jessica to die a horrible death
in a chamber of unspeakable horrors, shackled to the wall without a hope in hell of escape and little chance of being found. A suicide note found at his house suggested he’d acted alone and
offered a muted apology to the parents of Amy Grainger. Detectives treated it with the contempt it deserved. The irony of leaving another couple childless had obviously passed him by.

Even though it hadn’t always felt like it, in their search for Jessica the murder investigation team had never lost sight of the fact that they were simultaneously investigating the death
of another young girl. Amy Grainger had been a happy and vibrant young woman with everything to live for; a young woman who loved the countryside and who, it seemed, had paid with her life for
bearing a likeness to someone else. Her parents had since returned to the place where she died, comforted by the beauty and solitude of the Roman Wall and its surroundings, a wondrous place Amy
would’ve loved to explore, had she lived long enough to see it for herself.

The investigation into her death had lasted eleven days. But it had touched so many people’s lives on the way. Mark Harris and his daughter, Rachel Somers, were now reunited. Durham
Constabulary had smashed the prostitution ring that had preyed on impoverished students from the city’s university and had charged two men with living off immoral earnings. Stephen Freek had
also been charged, with aiding and abetting, along with offences against Data Protection. Daniels had made it her business to instigate charges of her own: a count of administering a noxious
substance and one of abduction in the case of Bryony Sharp, which would undoubtedly lead to a consecutive term of imprisonment. And that was good enough for his other victim, DC Lisa Carmichael,
who’d learned a valuable lesson in the course of her dealings with Freek.

Even with the weight of the law behind her, there were some cases where Daniels had no choice but to accept that she might never know the whole truth. Susan Makepeace was one of those cases. She
had lied to police about her involvement in her ex-husband’s wicked revenge; it was likely she supplied him with information about Jessica. But the former housekeeper would not stand trial
because, in their wisdom, the Crown Prosecution Service had decided there was insufficient evidence to obtain a conviction. In Daniels’ mind, no questions remained: why else had the woman cut
Jimmy out of the photograph of her daughter, if not to conceal it from her employer? Susan Makepeace was guilty, all right, of that she had no doubt.

The investigation had thrown up many issues for Daniels: the innocent had been under suspicion, the guilty had escaped justice and along the way she had learned that sometimes rehabilitation
was
possible. It certainly was in the case of Stewart Cole, who received a commendation for the assistance he’d given the murder investigation team. He was indeed one of the good guys,
and Daniels would remain forever in his debt.

A few weeks after the case was finally closed, she began receiving curious postcards from abroad, all unsigned, all bearing the same simple message:
Are you hungry yet?
Each time one
dropped into her in-tray, Daniels thought about Fiona Fielding and wondered what might have been. Who knows? Maybe they would meet again . . . someday.

Maybe not.

The complexities of the human psyche are many. Some people are for ever stuck in the past. Jo Soulsby was Daniels’ past, just as Mark Harris was Laura Somers’, Makepeace was
Cole’s, Finch was Bright’s. But critical to the case was the relationship between Jimmy Makepeace and Adam Finch. And, because of that final connection – a decision made many
years ago that had nothing whatsoever to do with her – Jessica Finch had very nearly died in that chamber. And would have done so, had Cole not floated her out of the mine and airlifted her
to hospital.

Another hour and they’d have been too late.

Her captor, Jimmy Makepeace, had taken his secret to the grave. So in the end it was down to one minute piece of forensics and Jessica’s own resilience that she survived at all. When
Daniels found her – unconscious, head bowed and chained to the wall, an emaciated, torn soul – she’d wept tears of anger that a person could treat another so cruelly. But later
there were tears of joy when word came through from the hospital that she was sitting up in bed with her father by her side. Her injuries were more psychological than physical. She’d managed
to suck water from strands of wet hair in order to survive. The rain that Daniels had been so desperate about had, in a twist of fate, saved her from certain death.

Within a few days, she was out of the high-dependency unit. Doctors were confident that, in time, she would make a full recovery. Now, more than ever, Jessica was determined to complete her
studies and enter the medical profession. Whether or not her father would relent and accept Robert Lester as part of her life . . . who could say? But even Adam Finch had shown his good side,
bankrolling the MAC Flying Club out of gratitude to Stewart Cole.

Daniels took a long deep breath and flexed her hand. Thankfully her scars were only superficial. Today, tomorrow, next week, there would be another case to solve, other families looking for
justice, revenge, closure.

Her phone rang. The display read: Hank.

‘Where you at?’ Gormley said.

Daniels grimaced, hesitating a little too long.

Gormley didn’t wait for a reply. ‘How’s the view up there?’

Smiling, she looked over the stunning countryside. The Amy Grainger case had pushed her and her team to the limit. But Jessica Finch had survived, and so had they. Today was a day without a
cloud in the sky.

A happy day.

‘Perfect, Hank . . .’ she said. ‘The view’s just perfect.’

If you enjoyed Settled Blood,
then take a sneak peek at
Deadly Deceit
,
another exhilarating thrill ride from Mari Hannah
Available December 2013 from Witness Impulse

T
welve forty-five a.m., Thursday, 24 June 2010. Another hot and sticky night. Standing in the shadows, the girl peered into the darkness. Not a soul about. Several streetlights
were out thanks to a couple of local yobs who possessed an air rifle each and no more sense than they were born with. She had to admit, the conditions were perfect for someone with murder in
mind.