Blood on the Sand Page 7

  'I'll pay her a visit. If someone's watching her it'll reinforce the belief that I'm a friend.'

  Cantelli's phone rang. Sheltering in the doorway of the café, he answered it as Horton escorted Dr Clayton towards Cantelli's car parked opposite the Harley.

  'I hear you had a close call last night,' Gaye said, ramming her hands in the pockets of her sailing jacket and seemingly impervious to the rain lashing into her face.

  'Could have been worse.' His chest was still raw, but it would get better.

  She halted and stared up at him with an expression of concern. 'Be careful, Andy.'

  'Why the warning?' he asked with false lightness as alarm pricked his spine.

  'Perhaps I'm just tired, but I don't like this case. There's the smell of evil around it.'

  Horton grew even more concerned though he tried not to show it. She'd echoed his sentiments exactly. 'I didn't think scientists had premonitions,' he teased.

  'Well, this one does and she's just had it. I haven't met Thea Carlsson, only her dead brother, but this is a clever killing by a clever killer. And, despite Cantelli's theories, it is not yobbos. Your killer never for a moment thought it would be construed as suicide, but he's done his best to make it difficult for us to ascertain time and place of death. Anyway, I've said my piece. I just don't want you ending up on my dissecting table – no matter how much I'd like to see you without your clothes.' She smiled to lessen the impact of her words but Horton shuddered at the thought of being laid out on the mortuary slab.

  'That was Somerfield,' Cantelli said, hurrying towards them. Horton saw instantly that something was wrong. 'Thea's gone.'

  'How? When?' Horton rapped.

  'About half an hour ago. She said she wanted a shower before she left the hospital for the safe house. The WVRS volunteer had brought her some clothes. Well, she could hardly walk out in a hospital gown and Somerfield couldn't go in the shower with her,' Cantelli said defensively.

  'Why not? She's a bloody woman too,' Horton snapped. Shit! This was the last thing he'd expected.

  'She's not gone back to the burnt-out house,' Cantelli said, the rain pouring off his face, his dark eyes anxious. 'I suppose she could have returned to where she found her brother's body.'

  Horton cursed. 'Check the hospital staff for any sightings of her,

  Barney. I'll head for the Duver.' 'Andy,' Gaye called out after him. 'Remember what I said.' He would, but it wouldn't make any difference.

  SIX

  He reached the car park at the Duver in record time, and miraculously without getting a speeding ticket, or killing himself. There wasn't a car in sight. The rain was sheeting down. The biting wind cut into his flesh and shook the gorse with the fury of an outraged god. From beyond the beach huts came the thunderous pounding of waves crashing on to the shore. Not a day to be at sea, he thought, hurrying to the place where he'd discovered Thea leaning over her brother's body, without any real hope of finding her there. She wasn't. Only the flapping blue and white police tape greeted him.

  So where was she? Had she voluntarily left the hospital or had she been abducted? Christ, he didn't even want to consider the latter, but he had to. Her abductor could be the arsonist and his intruder and the person who had been watching him and Thea here yesterday.

  His eyes searched through the slicing rain for a hideout where this person could have watched the sorrowful scene being played out. There were plenty of places to hide: the numerous bushes, the caravan park to the north on the hill and the large houses on the gentle hill slopes to the west, which rose to the village of St Helens. Anyone with a pair of binoculars could have seen them.

  Frustrated and concerned, he returned to the boat and punched in Cantelli's number.

  'There's no sign of her,' Cantelli greeted him mournfully. 'We've put out an all-ports alert but we're keeping it from the media in case it puts her life in danger.'

  'I'll skin Somerfield alive,' snarled Horton.

  'It's not her fault, Andy,' Cantelli said gently, then added, 'But if it makes you feel any better Uckfield's already done that.'

  Horton took a breath and mentally got a grip on his emotions. For someone whose personal motto was 'control at all times and never show what you're feeling', he was failing miserably.

  Cantelli continued, 'There is one bit of news though; a nurse on A & E says she saw Thea climb into a car. She's definite about that because she was on duty when Thea Carlsson was brought in so she recognized her.'

  'What car? Description of the driver?' asked Horton eagerly.

  'She didn't get the registration or make, she was in a hurry and she didn't think much of it, but it was a dark-coloured saloon, a newish model. No description of the driver. Doesn't help us much, but the nurse says that Thea went willingly. No one was forcing her inside.'

  Horton wasn't sure he liked the sound of that, especially the bit about a dark-coloured saloon. But if it wasn't Arina Sutton's killer, was it a friend? Had she lied about not knowing anyone? Had she telephoned this person from the hospital and asked him to collect her? Did that mean she could be involved in the murder of her brother after all? No. He didn't want to believe it.

  Cantelli said, 'Uckfield's on his way to see you, Andy. Says he'll meet you at the nature reserve opposite Port St Helens. Do you know where he means?'

  Horton did. Uckfield could have picked a drier location, but there was logic in his choice. No one would be on the footpath that skirted Brading Marshes in this weather. And it was screened from the road by trees, shrubs and the lagoons.

  Locking the boat, Horton hurried across the harbour causeway to find Uckfield's silver BMW already parked in the small yard opposite the entrance to the reserve. He hadn't gone far into it before he spotted a short, square-set man wearing a long green waxed coat with a cap pushed low over his head peering through binoculars across the salt marshes. Horton smiled to himself. Despite the clothes and binoculars, this was not Uckfield's natural habitat. The big man stood out like a hooker at a high-class wedding. Uckfield had never been any good at covert operations.

  'Seen anything interesting?' Horton asked as he drew level.

  'Not a fucking dickie bird. Anyone follow you?' Uckfield lowered the binoculars.

  'No.'

  'Can't say I blame them in this shit-awful weather.'

  Uckfield was right. There was no hiding place from the relentless rain, which had already seeped through Horton's trousers to his skin. He refrained from sounding off about Somerfield's incompetence – it would achieve nothing – and instead asked what Trueman had dug up on Thea Carlsson. He was curious to know more about the girl who had got under his skin so much.

  Uckfield said, 'She's twenty-eight, has dual nationality, British and Swedish, like her brother, and works as a translator for the European Union. Or rather she did until eleven days ago when she sent an email to her boss saying she was going on unscheduled leave and wasn't sure when she'd be back.'

  Horton rapidly calculated that had been Sunday, which tied in with what Evelyn Mackie had told him – Thea had arrived at her brother's house on the following Monday.

  Uckfield said, 'She gave no reason and no one's heard from her since.'

  What had prompted her to take such drastic action? Horton wondered. Had Owen told her he was in danger?

  Uckfield continued. 'She lives in Luxembourg and speaks Danish, German and Swedish.'

  A clever girl. But there was more, Horton could see it in Uckfield's scowling expression. 'And?'

  Uckfield sniffed noisily. 'Owen Carlsson was working on a high-profile European environmental project. It's believed his death and his sister's sudden departure could have something to do with it.'

  Ah, so that was it. He thought of those files in Owen's study. Could that be why the house had been set alight, to destroy one of them in particular? Perhaps the intruder couldn't find the file he wanted, or maybe Horton had disturbed him before he'd had a chance to properly search. Setting fire to the house with Thea in it would
wipe out two problems with one match: the file and the chance that Owen might have confided in his sister. Or had Thea been involved in translating something Owen had been working on?

  He said as much to Uckfield, adding, 'That could be why Thea looked so terrified when I found her. She could have known this person intended to kill her too, and now she's been abducted. The driver of the car she was seen getting into could have had a gun pointing at her.'

  'In that case she's already dead.'

  With a sinking feeling Horton knew it could be true, but he said, 'Who called you in?' It couldn't have been DCI Birch.

  'Reg.'

  The Chief Constable and Uckfield's father-in-law. Given what Uckfield had just said about Owen's European environmental project Horton had wondered if it might have been Europol.

  Uckfield said, 'He had a telephone call from a woman called Laura Rose––'

  'Laura!' Horton exclaimed. 'She's the woman Knowles mentioned on Owen Carlsson's answer machine. Owen had a meeting arranged with her for yesterday.'

  'Yeah. She's an adviser to the European Commission Environment Directorate, and she was getting increasingly worried when this Knowles bloke said he had been trying to get hold of Owen Carlsson since Monday morning without any joy. When Carlsson still didn't reply by Wednesday morning, Laura Rosewood called the local station to be told that Owen had been posted as missing by his sister. She then called Reg. They're old friends. Reg called DCI Birch to be told that Thea Carlsson was being questioned and DI Horton had found Carlsson's body in a bunker. I've got an appointment with her tomorrow morning at eleven.'

  'Not sooner?' Horton asked, surprised and annoyed.

  'She's in London but she lives here on the island and doesn't get back until late tonight, and before you ask I don't know what Owen was working on. Ms Rosewood told Reg it was too complex to explain over the telephone, and that it could be controversial. The chief asked me to keep it quiet for now.'

  Horton stared at Uckfield disbelievingly. 'So in the meantime we twiddle our thumbs awaiting Ms Rosewood's pleasure. This could be vital information.'

  'Twenty-four hours won't make much difference.'

  Horton could hardly believe what he was hearing. 'It could to Thea's life,' he cried.

  'It's probably got nothing to do with the case,' Uckfield said defensively.

  'Well I hope to God you're right because I wouldn't like it on my conscience.'

  'She's really got to you, hasn't she?'

  Horton didn't answer. He didn't like Uckfield's sneering tone but he knew better than to rise to his bait. After a moment, controlling his impatience and his anger, he said, 'What about this man Knowles? He must know what the project's about.'

  'He's in the Shetland Islands.'

  'Says who?' scoffed Horton.

  'Ms Rosewood. Apparently he's examining how the Shetland Islanders use wind power. They get plenty of it up there. We're checking it out. Isn't this ruddy rain ever going to stop?' Uckfield glared at it as though he could frighten it into submission before turning and heading back to his car. Horton fell into step beside him feeling far from happy with the turn of events.

  'Meanwhile we explore other avenues,' Uckfield continued. 'Maitland's confirmed that the fire at Owen Carlsson's house was started by igniting petrol which was poured all over the hall.'

  Petrol meant car. Had the arsonist come with the intention of setting light to the house then? Had he known that the police had released Thea or had he been hoping to search alone and finding Thea there had to change his plans? Whoever it was who had attacked him, and set fire to the house, must have travelled there by car. Horton tried to recall the vehicles he'd seen parked in the road. In his anxiety for Thea he hadn't been paying much attention. There had been a white van, no lettering on it; a Volkswagen campervan behind it, a Golf GTI, a blue Ford Mondeo and a silver Audi. There were no motorbikes and he couldn't remember any registration numbers. He mentioned this to Uckfield.

  'The fat sergeant is handling that,' Uckfield replied. 'He's knocking on doors.'

  Horton guessed Uckfield meant Sergeant Norris, who was big, but not as overweight as Uckfield. They crossed the road.

  'Marsden is checking out the gun clubs,' Uckfield added. 'And Somerfield is helping with calls after my appeal for sightings of Owen Carlsson.'

  So no one was asking around Seaview for witnesses to Arina Sutton's death. Horton said as much and got the tart reply that it wasn't a priority. Horton understood that, but he couldn't help thinking it might be significant.

  Uckfield zapped open the car. As Horton's wet trousers squelched on Uckfield's leather seats, Uckfield said, 'Birch believes Thea Carlsson is involved in her brother's death. She got someone to kill him who then attempted to silence her.'

  'Why the devil would she do that?'

  'People do kill their relatives.'

  Horton could see that Uckfield agreed with Birch, which was probably why he was in no hurry to interview Ms Rosewood. Horton thought back to the fire. He had let himself into the house using the key Thea had given him, which meant she must have had a second key, or perhaps Owen kept a spare hidden somewhere. The front door had been shut when he had arrived. So the intruder must have been known to Thea, and she'd refused to say who it was. He blamed himself for not pressing her on it. He'd let his personal feelings get in the way of his job.

  Uckfield started up the car and switched the heater on full blast.

  Despite not wanting to admit it, Horton said, 'Thea must have gone willingly with whoever she let into the house up to her bedroom.'

  'A lover?'

  Horton wondered why he didn't much care for that thought either.

  'Perhaps it was a friend of her brother's or someone claiming to be a friend.' Terry Knowles flashed into his mind again – but he was apparently in the Shetland Islands.

  'Then why not tell us who it is?' Uckfield growled. 'If she's innocent.'

  'She could be scared.'

  Uckfield grunted but seemed disinclined to believe it.

  Horton said, 'If we discount the environment theory, and Thea's involvement in her brother's death, Owen's murder could have something to do with the death of his parents in 1990.'

  'How the blazes do you work that one out?'

  'Isn't it an odd coincidence that Arina Sutton, the woman Owen Carlsson was with that night, was killed in the same place as his parents all those years ago?'

  Uckfield was eyeing him as if he were mad.

  Horton suddenly felt weary. The full pelt of the heater was making him incredibly tired. His throat hurt and his head ached with going around the same old circles. With an effort he roused himself to explain.

  'Let's say Owen Carlsson is the hit-and-run driver's intended victim but because he leaves the restaurant late the driver kills Arina Sutton instead. Owen calls Thea on Sunday morning to tell her his girlfriend's been killed in exactly the same spot as their parents in 1990.'

  'You don't know she was his girlfriend.'

  'Why else would he take her out for a meal?'

  'She could have taken him out. It could have been business.'

  'Whatever,' Horton dismissed impatiently. 'The accident brings back terrible memories for Thea and she rushes home upset––'

  'A week after the incident is hardly what I call rushing home.'

  Uckfield had a point.

  'There is another possibility.'

  'Go on, amaze me.'

  'Only if you turn that bloody heater off.'

  Uckfield silenced the engine.

  Horton continued. 'Owen's death could have nothing to do with his work, and nothing to do with his parents dying in the same place as his girlfriend. Arina Sutton's death could have been caused by a drunk driver, and one whom Owen recognized. Maybe not at first but after the shock wore off. Or perhaps he saw the car some time later and when he realized who the driver was he couldn't believe it. He kept silent because he knew this person well; he went to confront them with it on Saturday, to tell
them to own up, and got himself killed as a result.'

  'Then he was a bloody idiot.'

  'But it's possible.'

  Uckfield grunted an acknowledgment that it was.

  'And it's possible that the killer thought Owen had confided this to Thea, hence the attack on her.' Uckfield opened his mouth to speak but Horton pressed on, 'And seeing as you don't get to talk to the elusive Laura Rosewood until tomorrow, I'd like to check out the Arina Sutton angle, talk to her relatives, posing as a friend of Owen Carlsson, of course,' he hastily added, seeing Uckfield was about to protest. 'Owen might have said something to a relative, like "I think I know who killed her." There's also the possibility that Arina's death might not have been an accident. Arina Sutton could have been the target and Owen knew why, which was why he was killed.'