Page 29 of The Truth Will Out (DI Sam Cobbs #18)

She arrived at Bob’s address and hit out at the steering wheel.

His car was parked on the drive. I was right; he is home.

Bloody ignorant sod. There were no lights on inside the house.

Sam left her vehicle, and as she walked across the road, she could see the front door was ajar.

She recalled Bob had told her that Abigail and their daughter were away, visiting Abigail’s parents.

She crept closer, eyes and ears alert. The hallway was empty; their house was colder than hers.

She shivered, regretting not wearing a jacket.

Inside, the lounge was in chaos: drawers pulled out of the sideboard, cushions from the sofa scattered across the floor, and on the coffee table, she found a message written in blood.

You buried the truth. I’m digging it back up.

Sam’s pulse roared in her ears. She spun in place, her heart hammering, not knowing what to do next.

Where the hell is he? Stop it! Get a grip and do something to help Bob!

Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted Bob’s phone. She crossed the room to check it. The screen was cracked.

He couldn’t have answered it, even if it had rung. Where is he?

She fished her own phone out, made the call to the station, then searched the rest of the house. Bob was gone. It was silly to believe his disappearance wasn’t connected to the investigation.

It seemed like an eternity before a patrol arrived. She handed the scene over to them then rushed home to drop Tilly off at Doreen’s. En route, she rang the other three members of her team, requesting that they join her back at the station.

The first thing she did when she arrived was to put out an alert across Cumbria. She left that in the desk sergeant’s capable hands and flew up the stairs. The rest of the team arrived not long after. Everyone was shocked when she explained what had happened.

“It’s obvious the killer has him. I found a message written in blood at Bob’s house. I get the impression the perpetrator is watching my every move.”

“What did the message say, boss?” Liam was the first to ask.

“‘You buried the truth. I’m digging it back up.’ I don’t mind admitting that I’m scared. Worried about what this crazy fucker is going to do next.”

Between them, they spent the next hour or so bouncing ideas around until another message arrived—this time from a different number.

She read the message out: “‘You didn’t listen. Now someone else must pay.’” Attached was a photo of Bob, unconscious and slumped in a chair, his wrists tied to the arms, a dark stain covering his white shirt.

“Shit! I can’t do this,” Sam said. She perched on the desk behind her, eyes wide open, and stared at the wall in front of her.

“Boss, you can’t give up now, not when they both need us,” Oliver said.

Nick approached Sam and, having known her the longest, took charge of the situation.

He gripped her shoulders and gave them a slight shake.

“Sam, you’ve got this. We’ve got this. You’re not alone.

We’re all here to support you. We dropped everything to be here and help you through this.

Don’t give up now. You’ve led us through worse, Sam. ”

Sam tipped her head back and inhaled a few deep breaths. Nick took a step back.

She shook out her arms and nodded. “Thanks for your support, guys. With you all beside me, hopefully, we’ll find Bob and Rhys and bring down this evil individual.” She refused to call this person a killer, not while they still had Rhys, and now Bob.

Another message arrived.

You have one hour. Come alone. Or he dies.

“What the fuck? Where? He hasn’t given me an address. Does he mean for me to return to the warehouse?”

“I don’t think so,” Oliver said. “Why use a different phone? We need to trace the number and get the coordinates. ”

“In an hour? How are we supposed to do that?” Sam said, mortified.

“Leave it with me,” Nick said. He rang his friend again. “Cheers, as quick as you can. It’s a matter of life or death, mate.” He ended the call. “Adam reckons he can have the results back to us within thirty minutes.”

“I think we should get on the road,” Oliver suggested.

“But the message says to come alone. If he or she is watching me, they’ll know you guys are with me.”

“We take two cars,” Liam suggested. “We let you go first and set off behind you after a few minutes. We can stay in contact via the radio on a frequency used only by us.”

“That’s a great idea,” Nick and Oliver said in unison.

Another message tinkled. Sam grabbed her phone and gasped. “It’s from Rhys’s number.”

Watch and learn, Inspector.

Her blood turned cold. Two people she cared about, both abducted and in the hands of this crazy person. Who could she turn to for help? She had the rest of the team beside her, but were they going to be enough?

As planned, they left the station. Nick’s mate, Adam, had come through at the last minute and given them the coordinates of a warehouse close to the edge of Workington. It was abandoned, forgotten about and ripe for development.

She pulled up outside what appeared to be the entrance.

Alone, as instructed. The rest of the team were close by.

If they didn’t hear from her within fifteen minutes, they had her permission to come looking for her.

Sam removed her Taser from the passenger seat and tucked it into the rear of her trousers, ensuring her jacket hid it .

Dusk had already descended. She removed her phone from her pocket, having had the foresight to put it on charge during the journey, and turned on the torch.

“Hello,” she called out.

Her footsteps echoed, and a mixture of distasteful, unrecognisable smells hit her nostrils.

Receiving no reply, she wandered through the debris to what appeared to be a room at the back.

Heart pounding, she turned the handle and eased the door open.

She saw the outline of a figure sitting in a chair. She shone the torch at the person.

“Bob. My God! Are you all right?”

He was barely conscious, although he managed a groan when he saw her. He was tied to the same chair as in the photo, blood oozing from a wound on his shoulder. A camera was set up on a tripod facing him. She ran a hand around his face.

“Bob, I’m sorry. I’m here to rescue you. Stay with me. Please, stay with me!”

He moaned and licked his dry lips. “We got this all wrong… It’s not about… revenge… it’s about cleansing .”

Sam stiffened. “What? Do you know who is behind this? Have they shown themselves to you?”

“No. They were wearing a mask; they knocked me out.”

Sam held the torch over his hands. “I need something to help me untie you. Have you seen Rhys? Did they mention him? Is he still alive, Bob?”

Bob’s head lolled to the side. “No…” was the only word he whispered before he passed out again.

Sam returned to the doorway, stood still and listened. She strained an ear and heard a whimper. It wasn’t close. She had to find the source of the noise, and quickly. There it was again.

She inched forward, stepping over the remains of either a desk or a crate, and headed towards what appeared to be another office.

She paused and placed her ear against the door, fearing it might be a trap.

Not sensing any immediate danger, she entered the room and gasped.

A screen flickered in the corner, and Rhys’s face appeared.

It was live footage. He was also tied to a chair, just like Bob, not there but somewhere else.

Behind him was… Ivy Renshaw, or Michele Turner as she was called now, thanks to a fake ID.

Older. Gaunt. Eyes filled with quiet rage.

“I warned you, Inspector Cobbs,” the woman’s voice echoed through the speaker. “Some truths come with blood. A price tag like no other. You’ve opened the door… now you need to walk through it.”

The screen went black, throwing the room into darkness once more.

Why is she always talking in riddles? What door? The door I’ve just stepped through?

Time was running out. The rest of the team would be sending out the search party soon. She rang Liam. “I’ll make this brief. I’ve got Bob. Call for an ambulance.”

“On it now, boss. Shall we come and help?”

“Yes. Bring something sharp to cut through the thick ropes.”

Sam ran back to the room where Bob was being held and waited for the team to arrive. She didn’t attempt to remove the ropes in case she ended up tightening them. She spent the time touching her partner’s face, feeling guilty about the way she had treated him.

“I’m sorry. I was in the wrong, not you. Don’t leave us, Bob. I love you… like a brother,” she added swiftly, in case he thought she was confessing her undying love for him.

He stirred and offered her a weak smile. “I didn’t mean to… deceive you. Forgive… me… Sam.”

“I do. Stay with me; an ambulance is on its way.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” he whispered. A glimmer of a smile tugged at his dry lips.

“Good. Glad we got that sorted.”

The paramedics arrived at the location within ten minutes.

Bob insisted on walking unaided to the ambulance, but Sam brushed his protests away.

His ability to walk was slow and unsteady, but his stubbornness prevailed.

In the end, he managed to reach the stretcher under his own steam.

The paramedics checked his vital signs .

“We’re going to take him in. A doctor needs to see him as soon as possible,” the male paramedic said.

Bob opened his mouth to object, but Sam placed a finger on his lips. “Do as they say. It’s for the best.”

He removed her hand gently. “I’m not leaving you to face this alone,” he said, his voice shaky.

“You’re forgetting who’s in charge. Let the medics do their job, Bob. And for your information, I’m not alone. The rest of the team are right here beside me.”

As the paramedics closed the door, Sam turned to Nick and said, “Our priority is to trace where that live feed is coming from. Can you get Adam out here? Will he come?”

“If I ask him to. He owes me. I saved his life when we were on the beat together, back in the day.”

“Great stuff. Give him a call.”

Nick stepped away from the group and made the call. He returned seconds later, a smile in place. “He’s on his way.”

“Thanks, Nick. I truly appreciate you calling in a favour for me. We’ll need to start with the transmission frequency. I suggest your friend works backwards from the timestamp. I’m going inside to have another look around.”

She returned to the warehouse and scanned the room from which she had viewed the live feed. The camera was old, but the broadcasting equipment it was attached to was modern—too modern, Sam suspected, for someone like Michele Turner to have installed the setup herself.

“Someone’s helping her,” she murmured. She knelt beside the transmitter and examined the small blinking light still active on its side.

A trace signal.

The frustrating part was that now she’d have to wait for Adam to arrive before they could do anything else.