Cold Revenge (Willis/Carter #6)(13)

‘Okay, thank you, you’ve been a lot of help,’ said Willis. ‘If you see Donna again can you ring this number please? My name is on the top, Sergeant Willis.’

‘Of course.’

They walked back across the street to Carter’s car, his pride and joy: a new BMW SUV in black, tan leather trim: old-school class with a touch of new-school brash.

‘We’ll make an early start in the morning,’ said Carter.

Willis looked across to the pub and saw the landlady staring at her.





Chapter 8


Sunday 21 May 2000


At five in the morning Ash was still lying on his bunk, looking across, through the windscreen of the van, to the bungalow and the patio when he saw the lounge door open and Nicola come out. She glanced across to his van. He watched her walk across with a feeling of dread. When she reached the van she opened the door.

‘Douglas needs you.’

‘Now?’

Ash felt his voice crack as he didn’t dare look at her, and he didn’t want to leave his mother with her either.

‘Yes, you’d better go, he’s waiting.’

Ash nodded but he didn’t move for a few seconds. Nicola was watching him and he felt panic. He looked at his mum lying on the bunk across from him.

‘Go on, son,’ she smiled sleepily, ‘I’ll be fine.’

‘Yes, she’ll be fine, don’t worry; he needs you right now.’

Ash said nothing as they drove on the quiet roads for forty minutes. The sky was lightening into dawn as they parked up and Ash realised where they were, at Lambs Farm at the beginning of Dunstable Downs. He and Douglas often called in there to share a brew with the farmer, and it was one of the places they’d stashed drugs. Ash said nothing as he stood at the back of the van watching Stephen and Douglas prepare to lay the body out onto a sheet on the ground. Ash couldn’t look at it. A glaze had formed across Tony’s eyes, his mouth hung open and his teeth, chipped and crossed at the front, looked as if they would leap at Ash and bite into his face accusing him . . .

You saw it and you did nothing!

Stephen stumbled as he lifted the body into the ground. He was wearing flip-flops, shorts and a Black Sabbath T-shirt. The body groaned as it was moved and air escaped.

Douglas handed Ash the shovel. ‘Go and dig up the chest, then make it a big enough space for this one. Good lad.’

Ash took the shovel and walked up and across to the corner of the field.

He stopped at the place he recognised as one of five holes he’d dug when he’d travelled the country with Douglas. He dug down half a metre and hauled out the plastic chest and put it to one side as he continued digging out the grave and making it bigger.

After a while he heard the wheels of a crate being pulled up the field towards him. When he stopped and looked up Tony’s face was staring at him from between the slats of the crate. Stephen laughed at Ash’s expression.

‘Get out now, Ash, that’ll do, you’ve done a good job,’ said Douglas. ‘Go and start digging ten feet up from here, keep it close to the hedge. We need to hide the chest again.’

Ash hopped out of the hole and walked up the field, did as he was told and chose a spot to dig. He’d done that many times, but it was the first time he’d ever put a body in one. He could see that for Stephen and Douglas, it was not the first time at all. He kept his eye on them and watched them tip the cart backwards into the grave. Tony’s body, all arms and legs, was dumped in, bottom first. Douglas started filling in the grave on top of him.

By the time they were finished covering the grave with stones and making it look like it had always been there, Ash was ready for the chest. Douglas took out a few bags of pills and packets, and then closed the lid again.

‘Stash the stash, Ash,’ he grinned.

Stephen tittered. He was still stoned; he was having a hard job standing up without swaying. He lost his balance, toppled over and lay there looking at the sky and laughing.





Chapter 9


Next morning Willis was in work early. Carter had called a meeting for eight a.m. but there had been a development overnight. Willis had seen the headlines when she was on the way to work. The press had already got hold of the story.

Janice the press officer was waiting to talk to her. Janice had poker-straight red hair and sensible shoes that clashed somewhat with the tattoos that extended up her neck in a butterfly. She had the tabloid papers in her hand, their front covers plastered with photos from the time of Douglas and Hawthorn Farm. None of the front pages showed any sympathy for Millie.

Carter joined them. ‘Janice, pleasure to meet you.’ Carter pulled out a seat for her to sit down. ‘We’ve talked on the phone, haven’t we?’

‘That’s right. I thought I should come into the office as this case is more complicated than we are used to handling and I’d like you to talk through your priorities so we know how to handle the press. There’s a lot of Douglas fever in the papers already.’ Janice brought up a few headlines on her laptop to show them. Devil’s Disciples, What Happened to Heather?, plus the usual speculation about how many victims there could be and how Douglas was due out of prison soon and hoping for fame and fortune as a chef. There were photos of Douglas at a work party away from the prison – apparently he got to work in Michelin-starred restaurants as part of his rehabilitation and preparation for coming out.