‘Right, ma’am.’ With a couple of clicks of the mouse Enders had cued up a movie. ‘This isn’t pleasant, sir, but don’t watch if you would rather not. Just listen to the audio track.’
The video started to play and Hardin flinched at the sight of a girl tied in the centre of a double bed. A black sash cut across her face covering her eyes and as she struggled her image was reflected in full-length mirrored wardrobes on one side of the room. A couple of masked figures passed in front of the camera, both men, both naked. One of the men moved to kneel on the bed near the girl’s head and said something to the girl, but the words were muffled and indistinct, however the look on her face changed and she fought against the ropes again. Then a strange rumbling came from the speakers followed by a sound like the wind on a stormy night and Enders paused the video, the naked images frozen in time.
Hardin crinkled his brow and puffed out his cheeks, mystified.
‘I couldn’t hear what he said to her.’
‘No, sir,’ Savage said, ‘neither could we. But that doesn’t matter, we are not interested in their speech.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘The date stamp, sir. Note the date stamp on the bottom right of the screen.’
‘Twenty-fifth September, 4.27 PM.’
‘Yes, the girl is Mandy Stilson. If you remember she was the odd one out because she was picked up on a Sunday lunch time.’
‘I’m sorry, Charlotte, you have completely lost me,’ Hardin said, shaking his head and smiling. ‘Too many years away from the sharp end I expect.’
‘It’s the noise at the end we are interested in. Play the segment again please, Patrick.’
Enders clicked the mouse and played the last few seconds of the clip again. Hardin’s expression changed from one of puzzlement to a look of revelation.
‘A train!’
‘Yes, but not just any train. We are guessing it is the Sunday 4.16 departure from Plymouth to London Paddington. The house must be close to the railway.’
‘I don’t understand how you know which train it is, and even if you did there must be hundreds, if not thousands, of houses backing on to the line.’
‘You are right, sir. But we took a list of all train departures on the date from all stations within a twenty-five mile radius. We then worked out roughly where each train would be at 4.27 — the time on the date stamp. Also, according to several of the victims, we are looking for a large, luxury house with a gravel driveway.’
‘I don’t see how that helps us. There still must be hundreds of houses, we need something to narrow…’ Hardin paused and then looked astonished. ‘Bloody hell, the VODS data! You haven’t?’
‘We have, sir,’ Savage said, smiling. ‘I realised we could use the VODS data for the car spotted by the specials cross referenced over the geographical areas we came up with for the train times. The database gives us only two results. One of them is a terraced cottage on the outskirts of Saltash. We don’t think the property fits because two of the victims talked of a big house and garden. The other location is number nine Moor Vale, a large house on a select development surrounded by woodland and situated just outside Plympton. The development backs onto the main railway line.’
*
It was late Monday afternoon when three squad cars full of bodies raced across town to Moor Vale, screaming their way through the rush hour traffic. Savage sat in the rear of a vehicle, merely along for the ride as this was to be Garrett and Davies’s shout. That suited Savage fine. She’d already got her fair share of kudos for using the VODS data to find the address of the owner of the BMW, one Mr Richard Trent, a lecturer at the University of Plymouth.
Off the A38, skirting the eastern end of Plympton and onto an industrial estate. It seemed like they had taken a wrong turn as they drove between the bleak monoliths, but soon they were leaving the estate and on a country road which dived down the side of a wooded hillside. Their sirens sent a startled dog walker leaping for the verge and then the trees ended and they entered a parkland setting with perhaps a dozen large houses scattered around. Big gardens, double garages, the glimpse of a swimming pool behind one of the properties. The epitome of middle class desire.
Moor Vale was a misnomer. Woods and a hill blocked any glimpse of Dartmoor proper, which lay several miles away. Like the rest of the development number nine appeared to be only a few years old and was all glass, steel, wood and concrete; what one would call ‘architect designed’ as if normal houses came off a production line, which perhaps they did. The style did nothing for Savage but the place looked nice enough. A powder blue BMW was parked in front of the garage.
The cars halted at the brick driveway, one taking up a position to block the road. Davies and DC Denton jumped from their car and walked to the front door. Garrett and two officers from one of the other cars skirted round the back of the property. Savage and the others got out and stood waiting by the cars.
A pheasant called out a warning from somewhere in the woodland and then silence for a moment before Davies rapped on the door, the sound echoing around the estate.
There was a pause and Savage was aware of her heart beating fast. The door opened and a woman stood in the porch. She was short with dark hair. Her features were plain and her face was etched with a sadness and a faraway expression.
Motion. Davies pulling the woman out of the way so that she stumbled and fell down the step and then he was dashing into the house with Denton following.
‘Go! Go! Go!’ A crashing sound came from the rear of the property as the backdoor was smashed in. Savage and the other officers ran from the cars to the front door and into the house.
Large entrance hall, wide stairs twisting upwards to a sort of galleried landing where Davies stood shouting.
‘Bastard’s in the bathroom trying to top himself!’
There was another crash and a scuffle and a shout.
‘Jesus Christ!’ Davies disappeared from view and Savage directed two of the officers up the stairs.
‘Man down! Man down!’ Davies shouting again, hysterical this time.
Savage followed the officers up the stairs. A man lay in one corner of the landing, trying to protect himself by wrapping his arms around his head. Davies was kicking the shit out of him.
‘You fucking wanker. I’m going to throw you over the banisters when I have finished and no one here is going to say you didn’t jump.’
In the bathroom Denton sat on the floor slumped against the bath. A cutthroat razor lay beside him and he was using one hand to try and stem the flow of blood from a gruesome looking gash on his left cheek. A huge flap of skin hung loose and Savage could see the white of bone in amongst the red flesh. Denton smiled up at her from a pale grey face and spat blood into his free hand.
‘Ambulance!’ she shouted behind her and rushed in. A mirrored cabinet reflected the horror in the room and she ran over and threw the door open.
Aftershave, deodorant, packets of soap, bath scents, sanitary towels, everything came tumbling out as she ransacked the cupboard. Fuck! No first aid!
She grabbed the box of sanitary towels from where it had fallen into the sink and ripped the packet open. Out came a towel and she tore the packet apart.
Denton grinned from behind the blood.
‘I’ve always liked kinky, ma’am, but I don’t want to die with a Simon Cowell on my face.’
‘You aren’t going to die you daft bugger, I just don’t want you looking like the elephant man when you come back to work. Now shut up and keep still.’
She moved Denton’s hand away from his face and pressed the flap of skin back in place. Denton flinched but didn’t cry out. Then she took the sanitary towel and placed it over the wound.
One of the other officers had come into the bathroom and Savage told him to open some more packets. She applied a couple more towels to the wound and that seemed to staunch the blood. Denton was losing consciousness now though, eyes closing, head lolling.
‘Carl, stay with me, stay with me!’
Denton’s eyes flickered open and his head moved in acknowledgement. Then his eyes closed again.
It seemed like ages before she heard the wail of the ambulance, although it could only have been a couple of
