Dead Wrong (21 page)

“Put your head on her chest. Check if her breathing’s regular.”

He bent down low with his back to her. This was it. She wouldn’t get a better opportunity. By the fire there were a number of heavy objects, including a heavy cast-iron poker.

Lydia darted to the side and grabbed it. It was now or never. Swinging it high she sprang forward and brought it crashing down across the back of his head.

She saw the blood spurt. She saw him turn momentarily with a look of utter shock on his face. Then she watched as he fell onto his back — unconscious.

Lydia had no time to dwell on what she’d done or to think about the old woman. She scuttled around the kitchen looking for something to tie his hands with. She found a leather belt and fastened it around his wrists as tightly as she could. She used the tieback from the curtains to bind his ankles. Now she needed to find a phone.

Despite rendering him helpless, she was still very nervous about leaving him in the kitchen; he might wake up and get out. But she had no choice. She had to get help, and she couldn’t just kill him in cold blood, despite what he’d done to her. She made a quick search of the house. She searched the cluttered furniture in the sitting room, until finally she found her things — most importantly, her mobile phone. Now she could call for help and get the hell out of here.

Chapter 23

“I want a word with the IT technician, and whoever looks after your security, please.” Calladine flashed his warrant card at the woman sitting at the community centre desk.

“Craig Barker looks after the IT suite.” She pressed a button on the intercom.

“Craig to main desk!” Her voice rang out across the complex.

Craig Barker was young, and looked very much like all the other youths who used the computers here.

“Yeah? Want a machine? Do you have login details?”

Calladine shook his head. “No, son, we don’t want to use anything. We want to ask you some questions. I’m DI Calladine and this is DS Ruth Bayliss.”

The young man shrugged, and deposited a piece of well-chewed gum in the rubbish bin.

“Fire away.”

“A couple of emails were sent from here earlier on this week. I have the headers. Are you able to show me which machine was used and tell me who used it on those days?”

Craig looked at the paperwork. “Yeah, follow me . . . I keep a log: machine number; IP addresses. Just give me a minute.”

Calladine looked at Ruth and raised his eyebrows. So far, so good.

“Yep, here we are. PC number ten. I’ve got the user down here as a
Mikey
. He stayed for thirty five minutes then left.”

“Do you have any CCTV?”

“Should have. Want to look?”

Calladine and Ruth followed Craig to a side room and watched as he rummaged through a number of CDs.

“This should be the one.”

They watched a number of customers come and go over the afternoon. They were mostly lads from the estate, and no one was making any attempt to hide their identity. Then they saw him.

He had on the same hooded top as he’d been wearing when he took Lydia. He spoke to the girl on the IT reception desk for a few moments, signed the log book and slipped onto a chair in front of a computer. He was at it again, making sure that his back faced the camera at all times. Another rear view — great!

“Is there any way we can get to see his face?”

Craig grinned. He got himself comfortable at the keyboard, as if waiting for something. Then, just at the very moment their man turned his machine off, he froze the screen. For a second or two the reflection shone back at them. He was caught in his own blank monitor. Craig zoomed in, and it was just possible to see him face on.

Calladine and Ruth both craned forward, and then looked at each other in disbelief.

“No!” Ruth gasped. “I don’t believe it. That can’t be right. There must be some mistake. This must have been when he was checking something for us. That’s got to be it, hasn’t it, sir?”

But Calladine knew it was no mistake. His clothes gave him away. This was the man who’d taken Lydia. There was no way round this, upsetting as it was going to be for all of them. But there was no getting away from the raw facts. He’d suspected all along that Michael Morpeth was one step ahead; that he was getting information he shouldn’t have had access to. Morpeth knew exactly how to operate, and now Calladine knew why. Ignoring Ruth’s cries, he got on his phone again and spoke to Imogen.

“Imogen, has Dodgy come back in yet?”

“No, guv, he’s got a problem at home. He rang in earlier. Apparently his Granny is ill and he’s had to go and see to her.”

“Do you know where she lives?”

“Yep, she lives at Hobrise Farm. Leaving Hopecross, it’s on the road towards the West Yorkshire border. For the last few weeks Dodgy’s been staying with her, that’s how I know.”

A spot that was both isolated and difficult to find. Perfect.

Calladine asked to be put through to DCI Jones.

“Sir, the man we want is Michael Morpeth, Hobrise Farm, on the border road. He’s kidnapped Lydia Holden and God knows who else, so we need a full back-up team up there, and an ambulance. Make sure someone’s armed as well.”

This time Jones didn’t quibble about the costs. “There is something else, sir, and it isn’t good. Michael Morpeth has been using an alias, and we know him.”

There was a silence.

“We know him as Michael Dodgson, sir, Dodgy. Our Dodgy.”

Ruth folded her arms and started to pace the floor. She couldn’t believe — she wouldn’t believe it. Something had to be wrong. She looked again at the frozen image on the screen and shook her head.

“We should get going.” Calladine made for the door.

“He’s been planning this for years, hasn’t he? He’s waited all this time to get back at Ice and the others because of what they did to his brother. He even changed his surname just to fool us. But Kelly said he was dark — dark haired, don’t you remember? Dodgy is blonde.”

“Hair’s easily dyed, Ruth,” he muttered irritably. He averted his eyes from Ruth’s gaze. He was upset. He felt severely let down. This was one of his own.

“Are we going with this, sir?” Ruth was floundering, looking for guidance. “Is it even possible? Do we really think that . . . do you think that Dodgy’s capable of doing all those things?”

Calladine had suspected nothing. Dodgy had been shaping up to be a good cop. So why go and ruin everything like this? Calladine and Ruth walked outside into the cold evening air. He supposed the question he should be asking was why had Dodgy put himself through all the training to become a detective in the first place, if all he wanted was to commit murder? But then wasn’t that the perfect training ground?

His phone rang; he was half expecting it to be Imogen But it wasn’t. It was Lydia.

* * *

“Tom! I’ve knocked him out, but he might come round, and if he does he’ll kill me! You need to come. I need help at once.”

His relief at hearing her voice was almost overwhelming. He could hardly believe he was actually talking to her. He’d half expected never to see or hear her again. But she’d made it. Imogen had been right to call her resourceful.

“Calm down. I know what’s happened, and I know where you are. There’s police and an ambulance on the way. Get outside right away; hide somewhere and don’t make yourself known until you see the lights. The officers will be armed. So don’t worry, they’ll get him.”

“My signal’s breaking up . . .” She tapped the phone against the wall in frustration. But it was no use — Tom had gone. At least help was on its way, but how long would she have to wait?

The front door was locked and there was no key. She had no choice but to go out the back door. Lydia tiptoed back through the kitchen and past the two prone bodies. It was a nightmare, like something from a cheap horror movie. He groaned and moved his legs, making her jump. Then his eyelids fluttered open — just for a second — but it frightened the life out of her. He couldn’t come round yet, he just couldn’t. She was terrified and shaking again. Lydia knew she had no choice — it was either him or her. She grabbed the poker that was still lying on the floor where she’d left it. She aimed at his head, closed her eyes and gave him a second whack. The poker struck his head with an awful clunk of bone and iron. It did the trick, he was out cold again.

The back door was bolted top and bottom. But the bolts were stiff and wouldn’t give. She cried out with frustration and tried again, using all her strength, but she was all fingers and thumbs. She needed to calm down; try again, and slowly this time . . . Finally she eased them open and ran full pelt into the back garden.

The moon was hazy, as though covered in gauze. There were no houses nearby that she could run to, no street lights. In fact, she couldn’t even see a road — just a dirt track leading up to the house. What to do? Where to go? She had to find somewhere; for she believed absolutely that if he came round and got free, he’d find her, no matter what she did. She hunkered down behind a huge oak tree, shivering with fear and cold, praying for help to arrive soon.

Chapter 24

The Pennine road that led over the tops into West Yorkshire was narrow and dark, but Ruth and Calladine were racing. Then his phone rang.

“They’ve got her, sir, she’s safe.” Imogen was barely able to hide her excitement. The mobile was on loudspeaker, and both detectives heard the good news. “She’s in the ambulance on her way to the General.”

“Handy Man — Michael Morpeth?” He didn’t mention Dodgy’s name. He wanted to tell his team personally.

“He’s been arrested by uniform. He’s on his way to the General too. Lydia gave him quite a whack, and he’s still groggy.”

He smiled — good girl. “Okay — we’ll turn around and meet them there. Thanks, Imogen.”

“By the way, sir, I don’t know how important it is now but the woman who lives at the farm — is Annie Dodgson. She’s Dodgy’s granny — did you know that, sir?

Calladine merely grunted a reply. So much for wanting to do this gently.

“Well Julian’s people are all over that place and he rang to say she’s on all those pills you were looking for — every last one of them.”

That didn’t surprise him. The pieces were all falling the right way up at last. What was the betting that Dodgy had changed his name from Morpeth to Dodgson when he went to live with his granny? New name, new identity, and then a career that would teach him all the skills he’d need to avoid detection. So why had he craved the publicity so much? What was that all about? “We’ll make for the General,” he told Ruth. “My mum, Lydia and our man, plus Rocco — we can go see them all.”

The fact that Lydia had been found had lightened his mood but he still had no idea how bad things were. Or what he was going to tell the team. How to deal with the fact that one of your own was so evil; committing murder right under their very eyes?

First, he pulled over to swap places with Ruth. “Do you mind driving us back? I’m bushed. I’m sorry, we’re going to be late again and you’ve missed your date with Jake. Will he understand?”

“He’ll have to if he wants to keep on seeing me.” She grinned.

“I can’t wait to get home tonight. A couple of beers and a good long lie in tomorrow.”

“It’s Monika’s birthday tomorrow. Aren’t you supposed to be staying with her tonight?”

“Damn! I forgot, and I didn’t make the Antique Centre either. D’you reckon she’ll understand?”

“No! She’ll be bloody annoyed — and with every right. You’re a disgrace, Tom Calladine, and well you know it.”

“So what am I going to do?”

Ruth delved into her handbag and produced a rectangular velvet box and a birthday card.

“Here, give her this. Check it out and then I’ll wrap it while you write the card.”

The necklace was perfect. A string of turquoise stones set in silver.

“And you owe me fifty quid. I won’t charge you anything for going.”

“You’re a real mate, Ruth Bayliss. I won’t forget this, I promise. I’ll drop this off later on my way home. But between now and then you have to help me come up with an excuse not to stay the night.”

“No way — she’s my friend, remember? I’ve saved your bacon with the present, and after that you’re on your own.”

“You’d be doing me an enormous favour . . . You do work on my team, so you need to keep me sweet.”

“I’ve done enough with the present. I won’t lie to her for you, so don’t ask me again.” And Ruth stuck her nose in the air.

* * *

“Who first?” They were pacing the hospital corridor yet again.

“You’d better go see Lydia, and I’ll check on Rocco. Then we’ll both see our man.”

Lydia Holden was sitting in a cubicle in the Emergency Department. She was wearing a hospital gown, and the sheet she’d arrived in had been bagged for forensics. A sober thought and one that filled Calladine with dread. What had the bastard done to her?

It was such a relief to see her alive and well. He flung his arms around her, and she nestled into his chest. He hardly dared ask. She looked okay — a little mud on her legs and arms, but what had Morpeth done to her? He looked into her eyes and saw the tears welling.

“Did he . . . did he hurt you?”

She lowered her eyes and shook her head. “It was awful, Tom. I thought I was going to die in the most dreadful way.” The tears were now rolling down her cheeks. “He touched me, he would have done more, raped me but the old lady saved my bacon.” She looked up into his face, hers tired and worn. “It was close, too close. If she hadn’t fallen I’d be dead. He’s a bloody maniac and you know him, you all know him.”

“Yes I realise that now. But he was clever, until today he ran us ragged.”

“You’ll have to up your game, detective,” she replied, her tone a little lighter.

“Are they keeping you in?”

“I don’t want to stay. They’ve suggested counselling, but I’ll see.” She wiped her eyes. “That man’s an animal. That accident the old lady had, saved my life. I was lucky, Tom, but it was far too close and it’ll take a while before I’m back to normal. The experience is going to give me nightmares for months, I know it is.”