Their Lost Daughters (DI Jackman & DS Evans #2)(43)

‘Sensible of you to organise that warrant,’ Marie said quietly ‘I have a strong feeling we’ll need it.’

Jackman stared openly at the Goliath of Windrush. For one awful moment he thought that Micah Lee would have to be physically restrained. And he wasn’t sure how many officers it would take.

PC English bravely approached the man, told him that they had Mr Broome’s full approval for a detailed search, and mentioned that they also had a warrant.

Lee seemed to crumble. Jackman saw a wave of emotion wash across his craggy face. His intense anger subsided, replaced with trepidation and an almost childlike fear.

Fear of what? Jackman wondered.

‘Just do it,’ Micah said suddenly. Then he turned on his heels and marched back through the front doors.

Jackman watched him disappear inside, then called out to Andy and his colleagues to go in. ‘Top to toe. Pay extra attention to anything underground — cellars and the like. Anywhere that could conceal a missing girl. Call me if you find anything, okay?’

A tall, bald-headed sergeant immediately took over, and soon men and women were heading off in pairs to check out the big old house, the numerous outbuildings and the surrounding grounds.

‘Sir!’ The sergeant called over to him. ‘Would you like to help or stay with Mr Lee?’

‘We’ll join you, Sergeant.’ Jackman had no wish to play nanny to a giant, volatile baby. ‘Which area shall we cover?’

‘According to my aerial map, there’s a ward block around the back, sir. It doesn’t seem to have been prepared for renovation yet, so watch your step. It could be dangerous.’ The sergeant placed a tick on his list and turned away.

They made their way around to the back of the building towards the single storey building that housed the additional wards. The exterior had once been white but now great patches of rendering had crumbled away, leaving the brickwork exposed and decaying.

‘This could take some time,’ said Rosie, picking her way over some fallen debris. ‘This place is bigger than it looks.’

Marie nodded. ‘It’s a rambling old pile and it’s a sin to have let it fall into ruin like this. When I was here it was rundown, but at least it was still usable.’

Jackman pushed a door open and they all peered inside.

The ward had been long and wide, with one side opening out through a series of French doors onto concrete terraces. Jackman reminded himself that it had once been a TB sanatorium, and in those days they pushed bed and patient outside to get the benefit of the fresh air.

Now the windows were cracked and broken, and plaster and rotten woodwork lay scattered across the floor. A thick haze of dust motes swam in the shafts of sunlight that penetrated what remained of the glass. In one corner a pile of old metal-framed institutional beds had been heaped together, in another a stack of broken bedside cupboards and rusting skeletons of chairs. Jackman saw something move, and a rat broke cover and ran for a dim, gaping hole in the wooden floor.

Marie sighed. ‘Maybe we should stick together. We can’t afford any broken ankles or cuts and bruises from all this leftover junk.’

‘Shame big Micah never got this far with his clean-up,’ grumbled Charlie Button. ‘He’s done a great job on the front and the sides of the house.’

‘I think this part is going to be demolished,’ Jackman said. ‘I glanced briefly at some of the plans that Andy showed me, and as far as I can remember the back of the building is destined to become some kind of sheltered garden with seats and water features. Not that my imagination is capable of seeing it right now.’ He took a deep breath and stepped inside. Marie, Rosie and Charlie followed and they began their sweep.

They searched every room, each cupboard and corridor. There were five wards, identical in their design. As they reached the final ward Jackman called out, ‘I think we can declare this area clear. Agreed?’

Rosie and Charlie agreed immediately, but Marie seemed lost in thought.

‘Marie?’

‘I’m thinking we need old plans, old maps of the area. Ones that go way back to when the original house was built.’ She looked at Jackman, a light glinting in her eyes. ‘When I was here last, there were all sorts of stories flying around about the history of this place. I read a bit about the general history, just because it interested me, but there were other stories.’

‘Like what?’ asked Rosie.

‘Like ghost stories?’ said Charlie excitedly.

‘More like legends and folklore. One was about wreckers.’

Jackman brushed unsuccessfully at some plaster dust on his jacket. ‘Did we have wreckers along this coast? I thought that was Cornwall.’

‘We had some alright. It’s documented that Mablethorpe had its share, and if the old stories have a grain of truth in them, it looks like this area tried their hand at it too.’

Jackman stared out towards the marsh. ‘Well, the Wash is just beyond this marsh, and then it’s the North Sea. It’s possible, but it’s a very long way to drag their illicit cargo. How did they get it here, I wonder?’

Marie rubbed her chin. ‘That’s why I want to see some old maps, because I’m thinking tunnels and old storerooms.’

‘Then maybe uniform will find something. They are checking for cellars, aren’t they?’ said Rosie.