Payback

Prologue

Ryan turned the wheel taking the car from the well-worn service route through the woodland. The expensive suspension quickly sprang into action as the vehicle crawled through rougher terrain, cutting the headlights leaving only sidelights to light the way. The discreet markers left earlier soon came into view revealing a snaking route through the trees, up the gentle slope towards the steep drop beyond. Ryan had never expected to be in this situation, it wasn’t meant to be like this. Two days of fear and panicking in dispersed with the occasional rational thought had led to this restored woodland. According to local websites, its exposed location kept residents away.

Exiting the car Ryan pulled work gloves over latex covered hands. Pushing the door softly closed, it took a moment for tired eyes to adjust to the moonlight. The earthy scent and rustling sounds of canopies overhead swaying in the gentle breeze drowned out all other noise. Retracing the cars path, sticks that had marked the route were removed, loose soil and forest debris kicked over the holes and tyre marks.

Extracting an elasticated head torch, only to be used in emergencies and a spade previously acquired from a strangers unlocked shed. To be returned later to prevent any unnecessary worry from its owner. Walking to the earlier selected spot away from some of the larger pine trees Ryan began clearing an area of forest floor. Digging a hole occupied the mind, focus and concentration were required in the near darkness. A wondering mind could easily arrive at guilt. Sweating through the various layers of clothing Ryan was reluctant to remove any, not wanting to leave anything behind in the darkness. A long-forgotten quote filtered through Ryan’s mind, ‘take nothing but memories, leave nothing but footprints.’ In this situation Ryan wanted neither, convinced that both would lead to getting caught.

Reaching shoulder height Ryan threw the spade out then followed it, taking a deep breath to prepare for the next step. The breeze had dropped, creating a painful earie silence.

Ryan made the short walk to the car, lifting the boot to reveal a wrapped form. Gripping the plastic firmly, in one long heave gravity brought it to the floor with a ruffled thud. Dragging the carcass to the hole was demanding on already strained muscles. The smooth plastic was difficult to grip with gloves although it did ease the friction with the ground as it edged closer to what would be its final resting place. Ryan stood stretching out the body kinks that had formed during the strenuous process.

Grasping one end of the plastic, the contents rolled revealing a figure as it slumped onto the forest floor. Dead eyes stared up into the night sky, his expression was one of nonchalance, an indication how he lived his selfish life. Gathering the plastic Ryan’s eye was drawn to ring finger on the man’s hand as it sagged across his chest. Glinting in the moonlight the distinguished design of the ring was a reminder of the devastation he had caused years earlier.

Placing the folded plastic back in the car Ryan was grateful that the bastard owned a vehicle large enough to fit a body and a folding bicycle. Although reluctant to undertake the lengthy ride home, it was the safest option. Returning to the body, a sturdy boot was used to persuade the body to roll over into the abyss below. Proving ineffective Ryan crouched down arranging the limbs ready to roll into the recovery position, allowing a small smile at the irony as the figure rolled disappearing out of sight.

Darkness prevented Ryan seeing the dishevelled body that now laid at the base of the cavity. A need for confirmation took over, flicking on the head torch, the bastard’s arms had flailed during the fall, his face now covered by a forearm. A degree of satisfaction pervaded through Ryan’s mind; it was short lived.

The screeching of car tyres nearby brought an uncontrollable wave of panic, hands shaking preparing to be caught in the act, the feeling of the cold metal cuffs slipping on shaky wrists. The silence that followed kept Ryan frozen to the spot, expectant ears waited for the rumble of footsteps and voices that never came. A muffled whistle broke the silence before the crunching of gears mixed with a gunned engine brought some relief as a car sped off into the distance.

The desire to make sure the coast was clear took over; Ryan stumbled downhill towards the dry-stone wall edging the woodland. Standing in the protective darkness of the trees to survey the road area from the high banking. There was no sound or movement, a small sense of relief filtered through Ryan’s body until a dark shape on the road appeared in Ryan’s cone of vision.

Moving to the wall to get a better look, Ryan fully expected to see the body of a deer, instead there were vague facial features visible in the moonlight. Scaling the wall, moving closer the only sound was the infectious beat emanating from the figure’s earphones.

Ryan observed the motionless figure on the road, a woman dressed in running gear. Crouching, unable to look at her face while removing a work glove to check for a pulse. Nothing. Swallowing the bile that threatened to emerge, Ryan stood bolt upright head upturned to the sky in an attempt to prevent its appearance. Concentrating on a particular flickering star above in the night sky until focus returned.

Chapter 1

Kate slowly woke from her slumber, not recognising the noise that had woken her, grabbing the offending article from the makeshift nightstand. It was still dark as she fumbled with the keypad screen.

“Hello,” Kate mumbled into the phone.

“DC Wolfe?” The male voice on the other end had a caffeine-induced sharpness to it.

“Yes.” Kate’s mind came into focus.

“DCI Taylor has requested you at a scene; the address is–”

Kate cut the voice off. “What! I don’t officially start till next week!”

“Don’t kill the messenger … Fourteen Morley Lane on the outskirts of Warner.”

The phone disconnected in her ear. Kicking off the duvet, she scrambled for the lamp switch knocking the Blackstone’s Police Manual to the floor. She dug around in a box for a pen and envelope to write the address she’d just been given. Sitting down on the edge of the bed, Kate tried to recall the information she had compiled on her new boss. Detective Chief Inspector Helen Taylor had worked in Manchester CID until seven years ago, she’d made a name for herself working several high-profile murder cases and one child abduction. Being a city girl herself, she couldn’t understand what could make anyone want to transfer to a back of beyond town like Warner. Not that it wasn’t picturesque in its own way, but it wasn’t the city life she was used to. Warner had a population of almost six and a half thousand people, close to the borders of Cheshire and Shropshire. It sat in the shadow of the Craven and Pendle Hills. The natural resources of the surrounding area had dictated the industries of the town with salt mines providing materials for salt glazing in the potteries; limestone was quarried for local and national construction projects.

New developments had increased the size of the town in the 1960s to house the increase in the working population; new industrial estates were part of the new build, further increasing the small business and commerce of the area.

Although the town still held a regular market day, some of the vibrancy had faded over recent years. Younger residents moved away for study or work, reluctant to return. Dairy farming and cheesemaking continued to thrive in the area.

Using her sat-nav, Kate easily found the address, although the flashing blue lights from the fire engines were a beacon in the darkness. While there had been no information on the call out, it was obvious from the presence of the firemen finishing the damping down process that the call was a house fire.

Morley Lane was short row of detached, cottage-type houses. The opposite side of the road looked barren in the darkness. The houses either overlooked a fantastic view across the countryside or a piece of wasteland filled with fly-tipped waste; it was difficult to see in the darkness.

Parking up in the nearest available space, Kate pulled a pair of latex gloves from the overstuffed glovebox before getting out of her lukewarm car. The cold chill was an unwelcome shock to the system as she made her way to the police tape.

Her path was cut off by a burly uniformed officer.

“No entry I’m afraid. Are you a resident?” His thick Welsh accent was lyrical as he spoke.

Kate held up her warrant card. “DC Wolfe.” She watched him squint at her identification before pulling out a pen.

“Sorry. I didn’t recognise you. Are you new?”

“Yes, on secondment from London.” And I can’t wait to leave this two-bit dump, she avoided saying.

“PC Davies.” He almost offered his hand, exposing his good manners, until he saw the glare from the new detective; he offered her the clipboard instead.

“What can you tell me?” Kate asked as she filled in her name on the scene report sheet.

“The house has been empty for over a year. Neighbour called it in just after two a.m. That’s the fire investigations officer over there.”

Kate followed his hand as he pointed towards a darkened figure half sat in his car, under the intermittent flashing blue lights. It looked like he was writing on his lap. Fishing in her pocket for her notebook, she used the clipboard for support as she made notes on the page where she had already scribbled the address earlier.

The house was at the end of the row so there were only neighbours on one side.

“Neighbours around?” she asked, spotting the illuminated windows on the front of the neighbour’s house as she handed back the clipboard.

“Gone back inside I think,” the officer said in his sing-song voice. “No answer from the next one along. Neighbours think they might be away.”

“Name?” Kate asked, pointing to the illuminated house.

“Goode, Mr and Mrs Goode.”

Kate made a quick note before ducking under the tape. She headed for the dark figure that PC Davies had pointed out.

“Excuse me, are you in charge?” Kate offered up her credentials to avoid a repeat of earlier.

The fire officer looked up from his paperwork, barely glancing at her identification before starting his tirade. “No entry till the scene has been secured.” His voice was harsh; he was obviously as happy as she was at being called out at three o’clock in the morning. Standing up, he turned to face her. Kate could just make out the white embroidered name on his jacket: Graham Brown, Fire Investigations Officer.

Taking off his safety helmet, he laid it on the passenger seat. “The body’s still inside and will be until we’re sure it’s safe.”

“Body?” Kate repeated, the shock audible in her voice. The voice on the phone hadn’t said anything about a body.

“Yes.” His voice still held the dismissive almost exasperated tone.

Kate observed the fire officer. He looked tired and dishevelled as the blue lights illuminated his thinning hairline. Knowing the house was meant to be empty, she racked her brain, trying to recall what she knew about fires and arsonists.

“Any trace of accelerants?”

Warren Brown looked up from his notes as if weighing up how much to tell her. Even in the darkness, he could see she was an attractive woman.

“You’re Richards’ replacement.” It sounded like a statement rather than a question.

She nodded her confirmation as the cold wind blew up her collar. She didn’t have time to shoot the breeze right now, or ever.

He ploughed on, ignoring her lack of interest as he leaned against the side of his car. “Where are you from?”

Kate released a long breath as she moved her feet to keep warm, preparing herself for the expected response. “London.”

Graham Brown didn’t disappoint, offering a raised eyebrow nod, as if the Big Smoke was another country, which in many ways it was, of course, to this particular town. It had the desired effect, snapping him back to reality and his reason for being here.

“Fire started in the front room but spread up the stairs and into the back of the house.”

Kate was about to repeat her question of accelerants when Graham Brown continued.

“Petrol was used to start it. There are quite a few broken and empty bottles around the place … Could be used to transport the accelerant, but we need to do some tests. Could just be kids or vandalism.”

Kate made notes as he spoke before asking another question. “The house wasn’t occupied, which room’s the body in?”

“Back room downstairs. There’s a lot of damage to the rest of the house. What furniture there was had been pushed together to make more fuel. No back door; it probably went up pretty quickly.”

Suspected arson, Kate noted, but all she knew was that the scene was deteriorating all the time, evidence compromised by endless firemen traipsing through the house, making it impossible to find out what actually happened and bring the culprit or culprits to justice.

“Okay.” Kate looked around for the Scenes of Crime Officers, expecting to see a single van at least. She figured they probably had to travel from a larger station, being out in the sticks. “How long till we can get inside?” Kate asked, planning a visit to the neighbours to get out of the cold in the meantime.

“When it’s safe.” His irritated tone had returned. Maybe he realised that her only interest was the information he had.

“How soon?” Kate pushed, unflustered by his brash tone. She wasn’t here to make friends; she was here to do her job.

“When it’s safe,” he repeated before turning his back to her, signalling the end of their conversation.

Kate watched for a moment as he focused on his paperwork once more. Figuring Brown wasn’t going to be any more forthcoming, she headed off for the neighbour’s house. Walking down the path to the front door, she saw the curtain twitch several times. She prodded the doorbell, even though she could hear footsteps approaching on the other side.

Kate held up her credentials as the door opened.

“Mrs Goode, I’m DC Wolfe. Can I talk to you for a moment?”

The smell of stale sweat and cooking grease that invaded her nostrils was intense, making her use her forefinger and thumb to pinch them together.

The large, mature woman in the doorway was dressed in several layers, topped off with a bright pink, fluffy dressing gown tied in the middle, emphasising her hourglass figure. Her once-matching slippers had now turned a shade of grey.

“Sure! Come on in.” Standing back from the door, she continued, “Call me Gloria.”

Kate was caught between the icy cold and the warm house filled with stench. “I don’t want to impose.”

“Don’t be silly. You must be freezing.”

Kate reluctantly stepped into the house. Her nostrils immediately responded with a series of leg-wobbling sneezes. “Jesus!” Kate let fly as she wiped her hands on her jeans.

“See, that cold air’s bad for your chest. Got a cold coming ain’t you,” Gloria said as she led the way into what looked like a sitting room at the front of the house.

Was she fucking serious? What about the air in here? Kate managed to keep a lid on it, her attention taken by a small sausage dog heading towards her, his back end held in a harness with small bicycle wheels on either side of his body. He looked like a badly mended toy.

The dim light of the room made it look dingy; one wall was taken up by a long, patterned sofa facing the mock fireplace with a gas fire turned on low. An armchair nearby looked placed to suck up most of the heat. Shelving flanked either side of the fireplace, filled with knick-knacks and books stacked horizontally.

“Tea?” Gloria offered.

The thought of having to spend any more time than necessary in this house made Kate feel a little sick. “No. Thank you.” Manners maintained, she fired her first question in the hope that she would be back out in the fresh air as soon as possible. “You made the emergency call?”

Kate estimated Gloria Goode to be in her late fifties. Her hair had a Molly Sugden bouffant look about it, although flattened on one side giving her a bed head.

Gloria shoved her hands in her dressing gown pockets. “My husband did … He was up, saw the smoke and flames, called nine nine nine.”