Their Lost Daughters (DI Jackman & DS Evans #2)(75)

Marie was about to tell him to get someone else to deal with her, when she recognised Asher Leyton’s fiancée, Lynda Cowley.

Marie went over and sat next to her in the almost empty foyer. ‘Miss Cowley, isn’t it?’

The girl nodded. ‘I’m so sorry to bother you, Sergeant Evans, but he’s disappeared.’ She tried to hold back her tears. ‘Asher didn’t come home last night, and he’s not been at work today.’ She dabbed at the perfect make-up around her eyes. ‘It’s not like him, he’s so thoughtful. He’d never go off without telling me. Something has happened to him, I know it.’

Marie thought quickly. Asher Leyton had talked to the dead girl, Shauna Kelly, on more than one occasion. And he had been warned about curb-crawling. They had talked to him about Shauna’s death, and now he had gone missing.

‘When did you see or speak to him last?’

‘Lunchtime yesterday. He rang to say he had a late appointment, but he’d be home for supper.’ She began to wail. ‘But I went to bed really late, and he never came home.’

Marie promised to make some enquiries. ‘I’ll do what I can, but he’s a responsible adult, so you do understand that I can’t register him as missing?’

Lynda nodded and left the station, still crying.

Marie walked over to the desk. ‘Danny, get one of your crews to go have a word with the old toms down on Dock Lane, would you? See what they can tell you about a man named Asher Leyton. And maybe put an alert out on him. I’d like to have a quiet word with that young man.’ She gave the sergeant a description of Asher and made her way towards the lifts.

Things were speeding up. In fact the flood of new developments was threatening to drown them. Time to find Jackman and tell him about this latest worrying event.

*

As evening approached, another call came in.

Gary’s voice was sombre. ‘Uniform may have found your second crime scene, sir. It’s an old caravan on a piece of land attached to the Windrush estate. The problem is they only found it because it was on fire. There are men down there and a fire chief in attendance, but there’s no way they can get an appliance out there. It’s just mud and cabbages all the way to the marsh.’

‘Who does it belong to?’

‘The land belongs to a tenant farmer called Smith, but he says the old van was there long before he took it over.’

‘Was anyone in it?’

‘They don’t think so, although it’s impossible to say for sure until they can get inside. The farmer is trying to get a tractor and irrigation hose down there, but it’s taking time.’

Jackman saw their crime scene going up in smoke. ‘Come on, Gary. Even if it is burnt to the ground, we need to see this.’

‘Okay, boss. I’ll let them know we are on our way.’

*

As Gary drove, he had the feeling he had forgotten something important. The others talked and tossed theories around, but Gary remained silent. Things were racing away from him, and he was getting left behind.

They parked and trudged over the ploughed field. There was little left to see other than a charred wreck of twisted metal and warped panels.

The fire officer who met them looked grim. ‘I’m afraid it’s not good, sir.’

‘Someone died in there?’ Jackman asked.

‘No, no bodies. But I did find blood evidence, and from the assortment of paraphernalia inside, it looks like you have a particularly nasty crime scene here.’ He grimaced. ‘What’s left of it.’

‘What kind of paraphernalia?’ Marie asked.

‘Well, it’s all badly burnt, but there are the remains of leather restraints, and other leather items, a black full-head mask and some other weird stuff. There are chains with ankle and wrist cuffs, all bolted to the base of the caravan. More is showing up all the time, but it’s still smouldering and it’s too dangerous to stay inside for long.’

‘I assume that it was started deliberately?’ asked Jackman, his voice slightly shaky.

‘Oh yes. We found the remains of a LPG gas bottle with the valve open, and we could tell that an accelerant was used in the bedroom area.’

So, thought Gary, someone has done a clean-up job. Getting rid of the evidence, and covering up for themselves, or someone else. He stared at the smouldering ashes and smelled the acrid stink of burning rubber.

‘It all fits, doesn’t it?’ said Marie. ‘He takes them to the caravan, does whatever he does, then kills them.’ Her face was taut with anger. ‘And then the bastard takes the bodies over the lower marsh path to the entrance to the tunnel, loads them onto the trolley and wheels them down to the Children’s Ward.’

‘To sleep forever,’ whispered Gary. ‘Or so he thought.’

‘You know what I find worrying?’ said Jackman quietly. ‘That the beast who did all this could be watching, as the last flame consumes his torture chamber.’

They turned from the burnt-out caravan and walked back to the car. ‘I think we should go up to Windrush and get a report from uniform. We no longer need men combing the area for the second crime scene, so it may be wise to get some extra manpower around the house and the tunnels. Just in case the killer does what the psychologist said, and returns to his lair.’