Page 28 of Worse Than Murder (DCI Matilda Darke Thriller #13)

T here’s something about running hard and far that I find addictive.

My legs pound the rough terrain, I inhale sharply and blow out fiercely.

My mind banishes the darkness as it concentrates on my breathing.

I can understand why, after everything he’d been through, Forrest Gump just felt like running.

There are times when I don’t want to turn and head back to the restaurant.

What would it be like if I never stopped?

But I always stop. Something clicks in my mind that tells me I’ve run far enough, and it’s time to turn back. I hate that I give in to that voice every single time.

I slow down and take in the sight of the divers from the North West Police Underwater Search and Marine Unit suiting up. There’s a boat in place ready to be sent out. Someone is rigging what looks like a torpedo on the back of the boat. Curiosity gets the better of me and I go for a closer look.

‘Enjoy your run?’

I jump and turn around. Inspector Gill Forsyth has appeared out of nowhere.

‘Yes, thank you.’

‘I’m more of a hiker, myself,’ she says. ‘Every day off I throw on the walking boots and the cargo trousers and I’m all over the hills.’

‘Perfect location for it.’

‘Yes. It helps clear the mind, too.’

I glare at her and wonder what she has going on in her life that requires her mind to be regularly cleansed.

‘How’s it going?’

‘Painfully slowly.’ She rolls her eyes. ‘That thing on the back that looks as if it’s about to be fired at an enemy submarine is a side-scan sonar.

Apparently, it will take an image of a large area of the lake’s floor and will be able to detect debris or anything else that may be down there.

It uses a sonar device that emits fan-shaped pulses down towards the lakebed across a wide angle perpendicular to the path of the sensor through the water. ’

‘Is that expert knowledge you’re imparting, or have you had a quick read on Wikipedia?’

‘The guy with the ginger hair tying it on gave me a very long and detailed explanation.’

‘I bet he’s a riot at parties,’ I say. ‘How long will it take for them to find the car?’

‘Well, we don’t have an exact location of where it could be, only a rough estimate from where you said you were. They’re going to start where the felled trees are and fan out. It could take a couple of hours.’

‘Will they bring the car up, too?’

‘No. They’ll locate it and set down a marker. I’ve got the company in Birmingham you mentioned on standby.’

‘Well, I’ll leave you to it, then,’ I say, turning and starting to head back to Nature’s Diner.

‘Matilda,’ Gill calls after me. ‘We’ve found a shoe and a necklace. I’ve shown them to Lynne Pemberton and she recognised the necklace as belonging to one of her daughters.’

‘Oh God.’

‘Why dump them where they lived? What’s the point of that?’

‘I don’t know. Panic? Have you spoken to Lynne about their disappearance?’

‘Not yet. I want to wait until we find out what, if anything, there is in the car.’

I nod. ‘You need to speak to her. She has a lot to tell you that she hasn’t told anyone before.’

‘How do you know?’ Gill frowns.

‘Because she told me. But it’s not my place to say anything.’

‘She told you? How? Why? Do you know the family?’

‘No.’

‘Oh,’ Gill says, looking slightly put out. She looks as if she wants to ask more but can’t find the words.

I wait a few moments more, but the silence becomes awkward. I give Gill a cold smile before jogging off back to the restaurant.

* * *

After a shower, I join Carl and take the dogs into the woods.

We don’t go our usual route, as we would have had to pass the police activity.

The storm has taken the edge off the temperature and there is a pleasant soft breeze blowing, but the sun is high in the sky, and it’s hotter than it should be for the time of year.

We walk in silence, pausing only to pick up a stick one of the Woodys brings for us to throw.

I keep glancing over my shoulder. When we reach the optimum point, I find a felled tree to sit on and Carl joins me.

From this vantage point, we can see out over the entire lake and view the police operation without being noticed.

The boat has gone out further than I remember swimming. They’re drifting slowly in an arc from the bank by the fallen trees, getting wider with each sweep. Surely, they should have found the car by now.

‘Why does someone drive a car into a lake?’ Carl asks.

‘To destroy evidence of the fact they’ve stolen it. The driver might not have worn gloves so his fingerprints and loose hair may be all over it. Thirty years beneath the water will have destroyed all that.’

‘Any other reason?’

‘Insurance fraud. Maybe the owner of the car dumped it to claim the insurance money. Or perhaps the car was used in a crime like a burglary, or a bank robbery, and the criminal didn’t want to be traced so dumped the car.’

‘Would you hide a dead body in a car?’

‘It’s a good a place as any other.’

The dogs walk over to us, tongues lolling, panting loudly, and sit down beside us in the shade.

‘They never found the van they took me in, did they?’

I look at him. I see the sadness in his face.

Traumatic experiences never go away. They’re always there.

People merely learn to live with them. Occasionally, something happens to bring them back to the forefront of the mind.

For the first time, Carl is witnessing firsthand a police investigation.

Is he comparing it to what happened in the search for him?

‘No,’ I say. ‘We looked everywhere for it. We never gave up. There’s a cold case unit at South Yorkshire Police who routinely go through unsolved cases. They’ll look at yours.’

‘Do you think it’s at the bottom of the River Don somewhere?’

‘It’s possible. It could have been resprayed and had its registration plates changed. It could have been burnt out. It could be hidden in a lock-up somewhere slowly rotting away.’

‘Was this what it was like when I was missing? Were there police everywhere and looking in rivers?’

‘No, Carl,’ I say, putting her arm around him and pulling him close.

‘The kidnappers asked for a ransom. It’s completely different.

You shouldn’t be out here watching this.

Come on, let’s get back to the restaurant.

’ I stand up. The dogs notice movement and jump up, tails wagging.

‘I bet I can guess your favourite dinosaur,’ I say as we set off.

‘I don’t have one.’

‘Everyone has a favourite dinosaur.’

‘I don’t. Do you?’

‘Of course.’

‘What is it?’

‘Guess.’

‘Tyrannosaurus?’

‘No. Too obvious.’

‘Triceratops?’

‘Nope.’

‘I don’t know. Stegosaurus?’

‘No.’

‘I give up,’ he sighs.

‘Diplodocus.’

‘Why?’ he asks, looking at me with a frown.

‘Why not? It was the size of four elephants. What’s not to love about that?’

By the time we leave the woods and enter the clearing, we’ve worked out that Carl’s favourite dinosaur is a Velociraptor, that the first Jurassic Park film is the best, Iron Man is the worst superhero because all he has is money, Hulk would definitely put up a good fight against Godzilla but would eventually lose, and The Hobbit is two films too long.

We agree to disagree on who the best Doctor Who is.

I opt for David Tennant; Carl prefers Matt Smith.

As we approach the restaurant, we see Philip out in the car park chatting to Gill Forsyth.

He doesn’t look happy. The car park is packed with police vehicles and there are very few places left for his customers to use.

When Gill looks up and notices me, she holds a hand up to silence Philip and heads towards me.

Judging by the pursed lips and the steam coming out of her ears, she does not have good news.

‘Something’s happened,’ I guess.

‘No. Quite the opposite actually. Nothing’s happened.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Three hours the underwater team searched in the area you said you saw the car. Back and forth they went. They even went out further just in case you were mistaken about the location.’

‘And?’

‘No car.’

‘What?’

‘No fucking car, Matilda.’