Imposition (DI Gardener 5)

Grace opened her front door and entered the small hallway. Removing her coat and shoes she placed them in the small cupboard on her right. Her next destination was the living room. Switching on a couple of small wall lights she padded through and entered the kitchen. The first thing she did was reach into a cupboard for an antiseptic wipe and clean the worktop before washing her hands thoroughly. She then prepared and switched on the coffee machine.

Back in the living area she threw a copy of The Bramfield Echo on the table. She’d had a pig of a day – business should have been slowing down for the time of the year, but you never had two days alike. Yesterday was quiet; today, the complete opposite.

After pouring her coffee she picked up the newspaper. Her vision closed in as she read the headline, as if she was reading it through the long sight of a telescope. She felt weak, and tried to control her breathing as she pulled out a chair and sat down.

Grace placed the paper on the table and finished her coffee. She needed to stay focused.

* * *

Aged seventeen, Grace Browne was working in a beauty salon when her mother met and married a man called Raymond Culver. The couple met through an internet dating site. The pair of them appeared to hit it off through a variety of emails before finally meeting. Grace’s mother – Jane – had short black hair and blue eyes. She loved music, life, and being a free spirit.

They were contented at first and took great pleasure in telling everyone how much they loved each other. She was happy, pretty – confident. Her outgoing personality remained, enjoying a good circle of friends.

The change was gradual. After a couple of years Grace noticed her mother’s appearance had altered radically. She began to suspect her mother was being subjected to beatings. Black eyes and other injuries were blamed on domestic accidents such as falling from ladders, or walking into doors. One time her mother had front teeth missing but blamed it on a dental problem.

Grace’s world, however, completely fell apart when her mother told her that she and Raymond were going away for the weekend, hiking on the moors.

It was a trip from which she never returned.

Grace finished her coffee, shuddered at the thought of what had happened next.

She had pieced together that on the day they were due to return home, her mother woke up well before Raymond. She left a note saying she was going for a walk.

The official story was that she never came back.

Grace couldn’t accept all that Raymond told her about the weekend and called the police immediately. They exhaustively interviewed him for three days solid and could find nothing on which to hold him. He told them where they pitched their tent, listed the places they visited, the pubs they frequented – everything that could be corroborated.

They searched for three more days but neither the woman nor a body matching her description was found. They also confirmed that the husband, Raymond, was beside himself and they did not consider him guilty. The local police in Billingham were informed about the incident but for all their investigations, they couldn’t reach a satisfactory conclusion. Grace was not happy. She knew her mother: she suspected foul play.

She travelled up to see Raymond. He acted withdrawn, saying her mother had left him and he couldn’t go on.

She harangued the police constantly but they said there was nothing they could do and, at one point, Raymond even blamed her for making up stories.

Within a week of returning home, however, Raymond disappeared. Grace never heard from him again.

* * *

She put the empty coffee cup down on the kitchen counter and headed for her bedroom, having forgotten all about food.

In the bedroom she removed the bath towel, slipped into her dressing gown and opened the walk-in wardrobe that hid her state-of-the-art security system.

She reached down to the titanium trunk on the floor and eased it forward. She smiled as she checked her arsenal. It had everything. Some would consider it overkill. Grace figured you could never be too careful, especially when dealing with the man she was after.

In the next wardrobe her computer pinged. She opened the doors and switched on the monitor, leafing through her emails, one of which had come from Findadate.com.

She logged on. Sure enough, he had taken the bait.

Grace had him exactly where she wanted him. The time had come for him to pay for everything he’d done.

She rubbed her hands together and smiled. Time to set another trap. She typed out the message and hit “Send”.

“Welcome to the arena, Mr Critchley, or whatever your real name is.”

Chapter Nineteen

At a little after eight in the evening, Maurice Cragg had organised everything for the final incident room meeting of the day. Two trays full of hot and cold drinks were waiting on a desk; he’d also spoken to the local bakery and asked if a tray of snacks could be sent over. He knew a bunch of tired, overworked coppers who would put them to good use – one in particular.

As they filed in, their expressions of fatigue immediately altered at the sight of the spread. Gardener had spent a few minutes gathering the information he and Reilly had found out at the stables. He updated the whiteboards whilst everyone helped themselves to the refreshments.