Author: Robert Bryndza
Category: Christian
Go to read content：https://onlinereadfreenovel.com/robert-bryndza/page,16,604248-shadow_sands.html
“Arron Ko. As in chief constable?” said Kate. She scrabbled around in her bag, found her phone, and called up the article about Arron Ko retiring. She held up the photo.
“Yeah. That’s him.”
“His son, Henry, is now a DCI. He’s been investigating the death of Simon Kendal. The body I found in August.”
Ted started to laugh, and it turned into a cough.
“You two be careful. You can see how this has worked over the years. The Baker family keep it in the family,” said Ted.
“You think Arron Ko was corrupted by the family?”
“Course! He’s good friends with Silvia Baker. Known each other for years.”
“Oh Jesus,” said Kate. “What about the second unofficial body that was found?”
“I only heard about it when we found the young girl in 1991. In 1989, the boat was out checking the reservoir, and they thought it snagged some old fishing line. It felt like they were dragging a huge weight. It was the body of another young woman. Wrapped up in a shroud, it looked like.”
“Where did it snag?” asked Tristan.
“Robbie, the lad who was out on the boat, said that it snagged in the middle of the reservoir, but they had insisted that he say it must have snagged up by the sluice gates. They identified the body a few months later by dental records.”
Tristan got out the piece of paper with his list.
“Becky Chard, found 11 November 1989?”
Ted nodded.
“When the bodies were found, did the police search the reservoir? Did they send divers down or use scanning technology?” asked Kate.
“No. I would have known . . . Robbie was told the same thing we had been told. Keep quiet, and tell the police the body was found by the sluice gates. Don’t mention it was in a shroud. Robbie went along with it the first time, but when word got around that the second body we found was also tied up, he freaked out. He said he didn’t want to be accused of lying. He went to the police. He told them everything. He said that they listened and they asked him to come back a few days later to make an official statement. We all thought the cards were going to fall for Dylan. And I was ready to talk to the police too . . .” He leaned forward and adjusted the oxygen canister. He took a deep breath. “Two days later, Robbie was involved in a smash in his car. He lost control and drove into a tree. Killed instantly.”
“Jesus,” said Kate.
“His brakes failed . . . It scared the shit out of us all at work. And we were all worried about our livelihoods. We had kids and bills to pay. The whole thing was buried.”
“Why were you fired?”
“It wasn’t for anything noble, like telling the truth. My knee got crushed between two of the maintenance boats. I was encouraged by a doctor to get compensation. I wasn’t asking for a lot, but the Bakers didn’t like that, so they fired me.”
“When was this?”
“Twelve years ago, just before the millennium.”
“Why are you talking to us now?”
“My lungs are shot to shit. I don’t have much time left. My wife is dead. My two sons live in Australia, and maybe I need to off-load this guilt. I’ve got no proof beyond what I’m telling you, what I saw with me own eyes.”
“Does the whole family run the power plant?” asked Kate.
“They don’t do the grunt work, but they’re all in charge. Dana, Silvia’s niece, runs the art gallery in the visitors’ center. She seems the most normal and amiable. Thomas is the current Lord Baker, although he doesn’t use the title in his work life. He lives on the estate near Silvia in Carlton Manor. The original Shadow Sands manor house was demolished in the 1950s to avoid inheritance tax. He’s got a wife, no children. Stephen Baker is the black sheep. He’s broken away from the family. He went to live in America a few years back and met and married an American girl who Silvia didn’t approve of. They have loads of kids. He runs a posh cookware shop in Frome Crawford. Before he fell out with the family, he ran Hedley House.”
“Hedley House?” said Kate.
“Yes. It’s an old manor house on the Shadow Sands Estate. It was converted into a club for a few years, then got too expensive to run. The family said, a few years back, they want to develop it into flats.”
Kate and Tristan then outlined their side of the story and their theory about how the deaths and disappearances, Kirstie’s story, and Magdalena all fit together.
“It makes me glad I’m not long destined for this world,” said Ted, holding the list of probable victims. He looked exhausted and very scared. He was coughing almost nonstop. Kate checked her watch, and it was coming up to one a.m.
“The Baker family all live close by?” she asked.
“Yes. All of them have big houses. Dana lives in Exeter. Silvia and Dylan both live in Allways Manor—he has his own quarters . . . Thomas and his wife live on the same estate. Stephen and his family live above their shop in Frome Crawford.”
He studied the list for a long moment, his hands shaking. He had been pale when they arrived, but now his face was like chalk. He shook his head.
“Have you shown . . . this . . . around . . . to many people?” he asked, starting to cough.
“No,” said Kate. “You’re the only one.”
Ted launched into a painful coughing fit, and they waited awkwardly until he’d finished. “Please . . . That’s enough. I need to get some sleep,” he said.
When Kate and Tristan left Ted’s drive and pulled onto the coast road, there was a full moon, giving them a beautiful view across the sea. They stopped for a moment to take in the moonlight glittering on the calm water.
“Do you think it’s one of the Baker family who’s doing this?” asked Tristan.
“I know the Hedley House connection has really put me on high alert. And the fact that Arron Ko could have been in on it, which in turn means Henry Ko could be mixed up in it too,” said Kate.
“Whoever it is would need a basement or a cellar, and those big old houses could have that,” said Tristan.
“Do you think Ted changed when we showed him the list?”
“He seemed scared, but he’s a dying man with secrets. I’d be scared too.”
“Scared of what?” asked Kate.
“He’s been scared of repercussions for years; that’s the reason he said he didn’t talk until now. The Baker family is powerful. The chief of police is mixed up in it. There’s nothing more terrifying than when the police have been corrupted and are working against you.”
“I want to talk to him again,” said Kate. “Let’s phone him tomorrow.”
Tristan nodded, and they pulled out and started back to Ashdean.
After Kate and Tristan left Ted’s house, he had to hurry upstairs to the bathroom, where he had a long, painful coughing fit, which ended up with him hanging over the toilet and bringing up blood.
He sat back on the bathroom floor when it had subsided. His favorite cat, a gray Siamese cross called Liberty, appeared in the doorway and wound her way between his legs and purred. Ted looked down at Liberty’s bright green eyes. She seemed to be able to look into his soul and comfort him. There was a warm sound of purring as four more of his cats climbed the stairs and came into the bathroom, winding their way around his legs, nuzzling their noses into the palm of his hand to comfort him, pressing their warm, furry flanks against him. Ted knew that he was going to die alone, but he was suddenly gripped with fear for his cats. He knew how ruthless the Baker family could be, and he had left directions in his will for his cats to be rehomed, but what if those bastards took out their revenge on his cats? They were the only companions he had left in the world.
“Why did I talk to them? Why did I do it? I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. They’re not going to hurt you. I won’t let anyone hurt you,” Ted whimpered, burying his face in the cat’s smooth neck. He heaved himself up off the bathroom floor and went to the phone in the hallway.
With leaden, shaking hands, he picked it up and dialed a number. The voice that answ
ered hadn’t lost its ability to make him cold with fear.
“I’m just telling you, want to tell you . . . I had a visit tonight from a couple of private investigators . . .” He coughed and wheezed. “They were asking me about the drownings in the reservoir. I tried to throw them off the scent, but I think they’re close to working out who it is . . . ,” he said.
33
Kate managed to sleep for a few hours and woke just after eight. She went down to the beach and took a long swim. As she came back into the kitchen, the front doorbell rang. It was Tristan, with fried egg baps from the greasy spoon near his house.
“Sorry, am I too early?” he said.
“No, come in,” she said. He came through to the kitchen.
“You okay?” he said, seeing her concerned face. He sat down at the kitchen table, and she handed him plates.
“If Ted Clough and Kirstie Newett are to be believed, and I think I do believe them, then this investigation is getting dangerous,” she said, switching on the gas hob and filling the kettle.
“It also means we’re getting closer,” said Tristan, peeling the greasy paper off a floury white fried egg bap and biting into it.
“Tris, I don’t expect you to follow me into the fire. You’re young, you have your whole life ahead of you, and I don’t know what we’re doing. I’m not a policewoman anymore. We’re not detectives, we’re not working with anyone . . .”
“You forget that someone from our university is missing. And we could find her.”
“Yes, but if Arron Ko and other police officers are involved in this, corrupt police, well, you know what happened to me the last time I discovered a police officer was also a criminal . . .” Kate pulled up her sweater to show the long, ugly purple scar across her belly. “Peter Conway did this. A policeman desperate to keep his secret . . .”
Tristan had stopped chewing. He swallowed with difficulty. Kate pulled her sweater back down.
“I’m sorry to be so graphic, but it’s relevant. Arron Ko is a high-ranking retired officer . . . It scares the hell out of me that he might be involved in this.”
“Kate. I’ve come this far. I’m not going to wimp out. And isn’t it the right thing to do, especially if the police investigating this don’t really want things solved? What if we can find out what happened to Magdalena? And think of all those teenagers who didn’t have families to mourn them or look for them.”
“We can’t go and knock on the doors of the Baker family . . . And we can’t barge into the police station and demand to see Henry Ko’s computer files. I don’t know . . .”
“What about Varia Campbell?” said Tristan. “She was a DCI in this borough for fifteen years. Now she’s moved to London. She might be willing to talk to us.”
Kate paused with her hand on the kettle.
Detective Chief Inspector Varia Campbell was the investigating officer on the Nine Elms copycat case, and she had been grateful to Kate and Tristan when they solved the case. At the time, Varia had said that she owed them, and if they ever needed help, they were to call her.
“When Varia said to call her if we needed help, she was probably thinking if we got a parking ticket or something like that,” said Kate.
“She got promoted to superintendent when she moved to the Met. Surely that gives her access to stuff,” said Tristan. “She might be able to tell us something about Arron Ko. She might like the opportunity to solve a high-profile case.”
Kate liked his enthusiasm. It was infectious.
“She might not even take my call,” she said.
“If she doesn’t, I’ll phone her. And at the end of the day, it’s just a call. We’ve got nothing to lose,” said Tristan. “And we’re not crackpots; we solved that case when she couldn’t. That’s got to count for something.”
They finished their breakfast, and Kate took a quick shower. When she came back downstairs, they put the phone on speaker and made the call. Varia was in her office when she answered.
“To what do I owe the pleasure?” she said.
“Do you have a few minutes? We have a story to tell,” said Kate, cutting to the chase, knowing that Varia’s time had its limits.
They told the whole story as concisely and quickly as they could. There was a long silence when they finished.
“This is all very disturbing, but as you know, I’m now a Met police officer. Devon and Cornwall are no longer my borough,” said Varia.
“Do you mind us asking why you left Devon and Cornwall?” said Kate.
“Chief Constable Arron Ko retired. He resisted, but he’d reached the maximum age for a serving officer. At the same time, I was offered a generous relocation package, promotion to superintendent. I knew I had earned it, regardless of the reason Arron had for pulling a few strings . . .”
“His son, Henry, took on your role as DCI?”
“Yes. But I will say again, I had earned a promotion, and as a woman of color, these opportunities are rare.”
“How well did you know Arron Ko?”
“He was our big boss. I’d spoken to him a few times. I’d never had any direct dealings with him, but he had a lot of influence, as a chief constable does.”
“Why do you think he picked you?” asked Kate.
“I don’t know. I wasn’t the only DCI working out of Exeter, but I was the best.”
“He didn’t want you showing up his son.”
“Uh-huh, and if I’m being cynical, he got to promote a woman of color, which can’t have hurt him in the eyes of top brass,” said Varia.
“Okay, so what do you know about the Shadow Sands reservoir?” asked Kate.
“I was aware that the Baker family, who are major shareholders in the project, are divisive. But there’s a lot of money down in Devon and Cornwall. A lot of divisive rich people. As you know, the borough covers a huge area. There is a vast swath of coastline, which throws up its own problems. Drug smuggling occupied a lot of my time.”
“Were you ever warned off searching the reservoir at Shadow Sands?” asked Tristan.
“No. And I had no reason to. I worked there from 1998 to 2012. There were no reports of any homicide victims found in the reservoir.”
“We have the dates of the bodies that were found in the reservoir in 1989 and 1991, both confirmed by our witness, Ted Clough. He contradicts the official reports saying the deaths were accidents. What if we got him on record?” asked Kate.
“Then the police would be required to act, Kate. You know this, as an ex–police officer. If you can get Ted Clough on record, all he would need to do is give a signed statement to a police officer from your borough. That would then be enough for the police to investigate the death,” said Varia.
“Would it be enough for the police to search the reservoir?” asked Tristan.
“You listed the inconsistencies with the missing people in the area. But the reservoir is a government project, a power plant. You would need compelling evidence to open a case.”
“Do you think Henry Ko was parachuted in to do Arron Ko’s dirty work?” asked Tristan.
“I can’t prove that, Tristan. Nepotism is alive in every walk of life. Henry Ko was promoted to the rank of detective straight out of Hendon. He was sent to North London, but he clashed with his DCI. He then came here to West End Central and was promoted to the DI rank for a few years.”
“Is there anything on his record?” asked Kate.
“I would have to look, but officers I spoke to thought he was a rather uninspiring officer. A bit meh, to use the phrase. He then came down to Devon and Cornwall and into my old job. You remember what it’s like, Kate. You have to resist corruption, but there are ways to grease the wheels. You have to work with the rich and powerful without compromising yourself. Perhaps that’s what happened with Shadow Sands reservoir. The project is worth a great deal, both to the family and the government, who own a large stake.”
“If we get Ted Clough on record about the cause of death for these two young women being incorrect,
then that could lead to other aspects of our investigation being explored. If we do that, can you help?” asked Kate.
“I’m not an officer in your borough.”
“You can have a word, though. If we go to uniform with a statement from Ted Clough and there is a bent copper trying to cover this up, it’ll go nowhere.”
There was a pause on the other end of the phone.
“Okay, come back to me when you have the statement. I will nudge things so it goes higher, but I’m only promising to nudge, Kate. That’s all.”
34
Kate phoned Ted Clough straight after the call with Varia and asked if he would be willing to go on record with his story. There was a long, wheezing silence, and for a moment, Kate thought he had hung up the phone.
“Today’s rather busy,” he said.
“Ted. I know it’s a big thing to ask this,” said Kate. “But if you go on record and say that the bodies of Fiona Harvey and Becky Chard were found in the center of the water, and tied up, the police will have to reopen their cases. They would have grounds to question Dylan, Silvia Baker’s driver, and search the reservoir.”
There was another pause, Ted wheezed, and there was the sound of a dog barking in the background.
“Today I have my hospital appointments,” he said. “I can’t miss them.”
“Okay. What about afterward?” said Kate. “Ted. I think Magdalena Rossi is being held captive somewhere. It’s six days since she went missing. When I spoke to Kirstie Newett, she told me she was held captive for ten days before he tried to kill her . . . Ted, please. Do the right thing . . .” There was another wheezing pause. Kate looked over at Tristan, who was sitting next to her on the sofa. She was trying to keep calm, but his hesitation was maddening to her. Hadn’t he said he would be dead in a month? He could do so much good if he used the last part of his life to speak the truth.
“The police are involved in covering this up,” Ted finally said. “What good is talking to them?”
“I have a contact at the Met Police in London who was a Detective Chief Inspector in Devon and Cornwall police. She’s clean and uncorrupted, and she’s going to make sure that your statement goes right to the top so it has to be investigated,” said Kate. Tristan glanced over at her with a concerned look on his face. This wasn’t strictly true, but time was ticking. “Ted, please. There are four young women and two young men who either went missing or died a brutal death, and Kirstie Newett has been left traumatized by her ordeal. If we don’t stop this person, it will go on and on. More death, more victims.”