Dead Time Read online

‘Sorry, Glenda, I had to go into work and haven’t managed to reach Sophie. Her phone is off. Just wanted to check they got home safe.’

  Lambert was desperate to hear they’d decided to stay for the night, that they were safely upstairs in Glenda’s house, asleep. ‘Oh yes, I’m sure they have. They left at about five. Are you sure everything’s OK, Michael. This isn’t like you to call me.’

  Guilt overcame him. He couldn’t tell Glenda what was happening, though she would never forgive him later for lying. ‘Sorry again. I was supposed to be in tonight, so I was just a bit worried I’d upset Soph as her phone was switched off.’

  The explanation placated Glenda. ‘It’s good to see you’re taking things seriously, Michael. Good night.’

  Lambert hung up and took a second look around the house. He’d been alone here hundreds of times before but his family’s absence weighed heavy. The ceilings appeared higher, the walls further apart. He made his way through each room in a daze, nauseous at the possibility they’d been taken.

  Desperate, he searched for explanations. That Sophie had needed something from the shops, and in her rush had left the door open. Or, more plausibly, one of them had been taken ill and had gone to hospital. He went outside, confirming what he remembered: Sophie’s car was parked outside.

  Somehow that made things worse. He was about to call Sarah when he noticed something he’d inexplicably missed before. The nausea rose all the way this time as he reached out for the note pinned to the top of the coat hook. He vomited on the wooden floorboards, his hand on the folded note. When he stopped vomiting his hands were trembling.

  His name was on the front of the note. Like before, his name was stencilled in black ink. However, this time there was a written note on the back. Also stencilled in black ink, it read:

  IF YOU EVER WANT TO SEE YOUR FAMILY ALIVE AGAIN

  ALLOW JONATHAN BARNES TO ESCAPE.

  TELL THE POLICE AND YOUR FAMILY DIE.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  After he’d stopped vomiting, Lambert collapsed on the floor, every part of him aching. In denial, he retreated to a few hours ago in his mind. The guilt he’d felt outside Sarah’s house believing Sophie and Jane were waiting for him at home. He would have done anything now to return to that time and place, to be secure in the knowledge that he would see his wife and child again.

  Fighting the negative thoughts, he called first Sarah then Tillman, and with a trembling voice told them what had happened.

  Sarah arrived first and found him prone on the floor next to the puddle of vomit. She placed a cool hand on his forehand and picked up the note. ‘We’ll find them,’ she said. ‘Come on, you need to get up. We have work to do.’ She made coffee and told Lambert to change his clothes.

  He moved in a void, his limbs pieces of lead he dragged up the stairs. He muttered to himself as he took a cold shower, trying to banish the negative thoughts threatening to derail him. The cold water washed over him, taking his breath. It was painful to endure but he wanted to suffer more. Whoever killed Beckinsale, Jenkins and Duggan had taken his family and it was all because of him. He deserved to suffer and he made a promise to himself as he turned off the shower. That one way or another he would pay for his mistakes. But for now, he had to stop feeling sorry for himself. Sophie and Jane needed him and he was prepared to do anything to find them.

  Tillman was waiting downstairs. The look on his face was as close to sympathetic as the big man got. ‘We’ll find them,’ he said, repeating Sarah’s words.

  The three of them drank coffee and created an incident board in the dining room. They worked through everything logically. The assumption had to be that the card was from the killer of the three men. The card was the same type, the stencilling identical. They hypothesized that the three victims had died as a warning or message to Lambert. That everything had been leading to this point.

  ‘Reading the note, there’s no suggestion you need to help Barnes to escape, only you don’t hinder it,’ said Sarah.

  ‘Which suggests everything is already planned out,’ agreed Tillman.

  ‘But how? MI5 are all over this now following Saunders. It would take something momentous to get him free. This could all be a smokescreen for something else,’ said Sarah.

  ‘Unless they’re going to break him out before the transfer,’ said Lambert.

  ‘Someone internal from the prison, like John Prine?’ suggested Tillman.

  ‘Even then it would be some feat to break him out,’ said Sarah, still unconvinced.

  Lambert looked at Tillman, remembering how easy it had been to access the prison early that evening. ‘You met with the prison Governor in Luton, Sarah?’

  ‘Stuart Pierson. Not the most pleasant of characters. I told Partridge and MI5 about my concerns. I don’t know if they took it any further but Partridge noted it. I took it upon myself to carry out some surveillance.’

  Tillman smiled. Lambert imagined Sarah’s ignoring authority appealed to his nature. ‘What did you discover?’

  ‘He lives alone. He met three separate women during the period I followed him.’

  ‘Bit of a player.’

  ‘That, or he was internet dating. One of them was different though. They knew each other very well. They got into some sort of argument. She followed him out of a restaurant, and became hysterical. It was quite full on, crying and screaming.’

  ‘What did he do?’

  ‘He was embarrassed. He grabbed her by the shoulder at one point and she calmed down for a bit before it went into a full blown argument.’

  Listening to Sarah talk, Lambert somehow put to the back of his mind that Sophie and Jane were missing. Remembering hit him hard. He sat at the kitchen table, hoping the other two hadn’t noticed the tremor in his body.

  ‘Description?’ asked Tillman.

  ‘Five-eight. Brunette. Brown eyes. She looked quite athletic, slim and well-toned, like she worked out. I didn’t get that close but I would have put her between forty and forty-eight.’

  The description sparked Lambert’s memory, something from the hours of trawling through the System assimilating facts and figures. The description corresponded to a person he’d seen in his file, someone he’d seen more than enough of during the Waverley Manor trials.

  Sarah took out her phone. ‘I had her plates checked. Brenda Rosenberg.’

  That was enough for Lambert. ‘Can you get me access?’ he asked Tillman, opening the laptop on the kitchen table.

  Tillman typed his access code into the System, and Lambert ran a search while his superior, intrigued, looked on.

  ‘Was this her?’ said Lambert, turning the screen to Sarah.

  Sarah pulled the screen closer to her. ‘Yes, how the hell did you know?’

  Lambert scrolled the screen down, revealing the woman’s maiden name.

  Sarah frowned. ‘Oh, I see.’

  * * *

  The woman’s previous name was Barnes. Brenda was Jonathan Barnes’ ex-wife. Tillman had a special team, a legacy of his time heading up a secret Met division called The Group, he could use to monitor Brenda. The operatives were undercover and even Lambert didn’t know their current roles. Tillman made some calls and assigned a car to be sent to the woman’s address. They agreed it would be inadvisable to rush in, so the officers in the car would stand guard until they were sure. First they wanted to see the Governor, Stuart Pierson.

  Sarah drove them to his address, a new-build block of flats in St Albans, and parked up. ‘He’ll recognize you,’ said Lambert. ‘Best I go in with Tillman.’

  Lambert didn’t want to give anyone orders – at this point, he was running on adrenaline and emotion – but it was logical for Sarah to wait behind.

  It was three a.m. Pierson lived on the twelfth floor. Lambert counted twelve rows up and saw four out of twenty lights were switched on. Tillman pressed the buzzers for the lower levels until a disgruntled voice swore at him and buzzed them in.

  The smell of fresh paint filled their nostrils
as they made their way into the lobby. They took the lift to the tenth floor and made their way up the two flights of stairs to Pierson’s flat. Lambert tried to keep calm. He wanted Sophie and Jane safe, but rushing things would only have a detrimental effect.

  They’d agreed in the car they would break in. They had no idea of Pierson’s involvement but couldn’t take the risk of him alerting anyone. Lambert bent down and checked there was no light beneath Pierson’s door. Tillman spent a minute analysing the lock before producing a rolled-up toolkit. ‘My alternative career,’ he whispered, picking the lock with expert ease.

  Lambert drew his gun as Tillman eased in through the doorway.

  The darkness enveloped them, the sound of a clock ticking in the distance piercing the silence.

  Lambert had glanced back at Tillman for a split second when the man attacked.

  It was amateur at best, the movements of a panicked house owner. Pierson screamed as he lashed out at Tillman. There was a deadening thud as an object made contact with Tillman’s chest. Still holding his gun, Lambert reached for the light switch. The light flickered on to reveal a fully naked Pierson, a baseball bat held over his head ready to crash down on Tillman.

  ‘I wouldn’t,’ said Lambert, pointing his gun directly at Pierson’s chest. ‘Drop the bat.’

  Startled, Pierson did as instructed, receiving a sharp punch to the nose from Tillman as a reward.

  Pierson grabbed his nose as Lambert placed a hand on Tillman to stop him causing more damage.

  ‘What the actual fuck! I know you, you’re that dodgy cop. The one in the papers. Yeah, DCI Lambert.’

  Lambert expelled air, regretting he’d prevented Tillman from causing more damage to the man. ‘Sit down, Pierson.’

  ‘Fuck off. You’re suspended, you can’t do this.’

  Tillman picked up the baseball bat and made a couple of air swings, the second narrowly missing Pierson’s head. ‘Sit the fuck down.’

  ‘Let me put some clothes on first.’

  ‘I won’t tell you again. Sit down.’

  The prison Governor did as instructed, though was clearly not used to receiving orders. ‘I’ll have your badges for this.’

  Tillman edged closer. ‘You’ll be lucky if you don’t leave this room in liquid form. I can have you disappeared as simple as anything. Now you tell us what we need to know and I’ll consider your chances of survival.’

  ‘Do I know you?’

  ‘You soon fucking will do,’ said Tillman, striking the man full force on his right arm with the baseball bat.

  ‘What the fuck?’ screamed Pierson.

  Lambert didn’t care about the breach of protocol; his thoughts were focused on one thing. ‘This woman,’ he said, showing Pierson the picture on his phone.

  ‘What about her?’

  ‘You know her?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘You were seen arguing with her outside a restaurant called The Bistro.’

  ‘Jesus Christ, have you had me under surveillance? Is this to do with Saunders? I bet it is.’ Pierson clicked his fingers. ‘That bloody lady cop.’

  Lambert glanced at Tillman who swung the bat at Pierson’s other side, striking the man’s shoulder blade. The blow made him double up, his face crashing down on the glass table.

  ‘What did she want?’ said Lambert.

  ‘You know who she is, right?’ said Pierson, straightening back up, a line of saliva dripping from his mouth.

  ‘Brenda Barnes.’

  Pierson smiled. ‘Yeah, B.B. One of yours, wasn’t she?’ The question was rhetorical.

  Jonathan Barnes’ wife Brenda had been a detective sergeant at the time of Barnes’ incarceration. ‘I know who she is. What I want to know is what she was doing with you.’

  ‘It goes no further?’ asked Pierson, his earlier bravado gone.

  ‘It goes as far as I want it to,’ bellowed Tillman, excelling in his role of bad cop.

  ‘Fine. I don’t know how but she’d heard about your detective visiting me. And about Peter Saunders. Like DCI May, she had put two and two together and had come to the mistaken conclusion I had something to do with Peter Saunders’ escape.’

  ‘And you didn’t?’

  ‘Of course bloody not.’

  ‘What did she want from you, then?’ said Lambert.

  ‘She wanted me to help Barnes escape. Jesus, you guys are dense.’

  Tillman raised the baseball bat and Pierson held his hands up. ‘Sorry, sorry. She thought I would, or could, help her. She’d been tipped off he was moving to Luton. I’m not sure how as I didn’t even know at that time. When I told her I couldn’t help she freaked out.’

  Lambert had no way of verifying this. As if reading his thoughts, Tillman moved towards the man.

  ‘It’s true, I swear. I swear.’

  Tillman moved away and walked over to Lambert. ‘We can’t let him go now. He’ll talk.’

  ‘What do you suggest?’

  ‘I can detain him. Until we’ve found Sophie and Jane.’

  Lambert had spent the briefest time in one of Tillman’s detention areas, another throwback to his days in The Group. Lambert wasn’t convinced of the legality of the place but could only hope Tillman still had permission from on high.

  ‘Go with Sarah and question Brenda Barnes. I’ll get a team in here to sort out Pierson. Best if you’re not involved.’

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Lambert explained the situation to Sarah. ‘Are you sure we should just leave him in there?’ she said.

  ‘He knows what he’s doing.’ They punched in the address they had for Brenda Barnes and set off.

  ‘How are you dealing with all this?’ said Sarah.

  ‘I need to focus on the case, treat it like any other. If I let my thoughts wander I’m going to be of no use at all,’ said Lambert.

  ‘You think Barnes has the wherewithal to stage something like this?’ asked Sarah.

  Lambert remembered going through Brenda’s file at the time of her husband’s arrest. She was a serving officer and had been brought in for questioning. But she’d appeared shocked by the revelations of her husband’s activities. Even now Lambert remembered her face as he showed her the pictures of Waverly Manor, the disbelief that a loved one could be responsible for such atrocities. Had that all been an act?

  ‘What I still don’t understand is why she would eliminate Beckinsale, Jenkins and Duggan just to get to me.’

  ‘Perhaps it was a warning,’ said Sarah.

  ‘Perhaps,’ said Lambert, though he feared something worse, that the three victims were just warm-ups. That Brenda Barnes had been exploring the limits of her powers, building up her tolerance for unspeakable acts, until she reached the point where she was comfortable abducting Sophie and Jane.

  The sun was rising by the time they reached the Hertfordshire countryside. Every time he closed his eyes, Lambert pictured Sophie and Jane alone in the dark. He clenched his fists together, fighting the swelling sense of despair.

  The smell of silage and manure invaded the car, snapping Lambert out of his reverie. Brenda Barnes lived in a farm cum smallholding in the countryside. Tillman’s teams had been deployed in the surrounding areas. They had eyes on the farmland but had yet to approach. Lambert studied the sat-nav, counting down the distance to the house. His heartbeat increased as the metres dwindled. Could it be this easy? Could Brenda be responsible for the killings? Were Sophie and Jane less than a mile away?

  Sarah parked up and they moved towards the farmhouse along a single track road. Hedges on either side towered over them making the track seem even narrower. ‘I’m carrying,’ said Lambert, opening his jacket to reveal the Glock.

  Sarah sighed but she made no comment. A gated drive led towards the Barnes’ residence. A number of guinea fowl screeched as they approached.

  They continued past the entrance to the side of the property, protected by a perimeter of hedges five foot in height. ‘There,’ said Sarah, pointing to a narrow gap<
br />
  Lambert poked his head out through the clump of shrubs and trees running across the side of the farmhouse. He dragged himself through on his hands and knees, Sarah close behind. They stayed low as they edged forward, their eyes focused on the farmhouse and the lone woman throwing feed onto the grass for the guinea fowl.

  As Brenda retreated behind the house, Lambert scrambled down the slight incline, his legs slipping on the damp grass, until he caught the sight of her again in an open field behind the farmhouse feeding a horse.

  Lambert kept low in the wet grass, Sarah behind him, and watched Brenda stroke the animal before picking up a silver bucket and walking to a barn to the rear of the field. He closed his eyes and pictured Jane and Sophie sitting within the building, chained in the darkness. He signalled Sarah, and they ran across the field, passing the horse, until they reached the outside of the barn.

  Lambert’s heart was racing; maybe it was the distraction of Sophie and Jane being within touching distance but he was slow to react. He was about to open the barn door when cold metal struck the back of his neck.

  ‘On your knees,’ said Brenda. ‘You as well,’ she added, to Sarah. ‘On your fronts, hands behind your back.’

  Lambert did as instructed, looking up to see the cold, blank stare of Brenda Barnes. In her hands the gleaming metal of a shotgun pointed directly between his eyes.

  Once they were both on the ground, Barnes began pacing, the rifle aimed directly at Lambert. Lambert strained his neck, wondering if Tillman’s team had eyes on them.

  ‘I know you both. We’ve met before. DCI Lambert and DCI May. What are you doing trespassing on my property?’

  ‘Do you have a licence for that gun, Brenda?’ asked Lambert.

  ‘I’m asking the questions. What the hell are you doing here?’

  ‘We have some questions over the disappearance of Peter Saunders,’ said Sarah.

  ‘Peter Saunders? What’s that got to do with me? Sit up,’ she said. ‘But keep your hands where I can see them.’

  Lambert pushed himself up. He considered reaching for his gun. He was sure he could get off a shot before Brenda had time to respond but he needed information from her.