James Alton gave her a puzzled look. “What’s he talking about?
You and he, you never …?
“No, of course not. I hardly know him. He used to bother me at the gym—that’s partly why I stopped going. He used to stare, watch me while I worked out.”
Calladine told the officer to take Dobson away. “The man’s delusional. He’s built an entire fantasy around his obsession with your wife. When he couldn’t get near her he went after a series of lookalikes—sound-alikes too. He imagined he could create a perfect copy.” He shook his head. “Take your wife home, Mr Alton.
I’ll send an officer to take a statement later.”
Calladine cast his eyes over the large tract of land spread out in front of him. “Before you go, Mr Alton, we think Dobson must have had somewhere—a safe, secure place unlikely to be found by mistake, by either you or the workforce. Have you any idea where that might be? A man’s life may depend upon it.”
“The greenhouses are just as you see them—built over the soil you see them standing on. The only possibility is that.” He indicated the stone outbuilding. “Before I came here and developed the nursery, the land belonged to a farm, and that was one of the barns. I use it for storage, that’s all.”
“We’ll start in there, thanks. Now you get off.”
“Sir!” Rocco called. “The hospital has just been on. Patsy’s come round and she’s talking.”
“Get round there and see what she remembers. Anything about where she was kept would be helpful.”
* * *
Jonathan Dobson had finally been taken off to the police station, where he would be interviewed. As soon as his DNA had been checked against the samples they had, they’d charge him. Dobson seemed oddly unconcerned. When he’d been arrested, he’d merely smiled and made some remark about missing the football tonight.
His mother, on the other hand, had been frantic. She didn’t believe it—couldn’t believe it—but she obviously had no idea what her son was up to most of the time. She had admitted that he was rarely at home.
Doc Hoyle arrived with Julian Batho to examine the bonfire. It was a mess, which hadn’t been helped by the dousing it had received. But the doctor was able to confirm that there were human bones amongst the ash.
“Impossible to burn bones at this temperature. He must have been desperate, to try this. I’ll run the usual tests and keep you informed, but there’s no doubt in my mind what these are. We’ll check the DNA against the profiles you got from your American friend. If I’m right, I can see the remains of at least three bodies.
The flesh—what there was of it, has mostly burned away, but there is a little still clinging to that leg over there.”
Calladine saw Ruth’s face pale. She’d be on the verge of retching. This was another find that was far too gruesome for her.
The smell was as bad as the post-mortem room, and Serena’s remains.
“The outbuilding is single storey and there’s nothing but tools and sacks of fertiliser stashed in there,” a uniformed officer called across to them.
“It’s here. It’s got to be, there’s nowhere else.” Calladine felt the bonnet of the white van. “This hasn’t moved all day, it’s stone cold.
He’s had the bodies buried here somewhere, so he must have a place—a room, something. Rigby’s car is in the café car park. I’m not wrong, I can feel it.”
“It looks like the bodies were buried over here,” Julian called to him. “See—the soil is freshly dug, and you can see where he’s dragged something along the ground. There’s remnants of burnt cloth in the ash too. Could be bodies wrapped in blankets, like Serena.”
Dobson must have realised that Alton would eventually capitulate and sell his land to the council, and that’s why he’d needed to move them. It bothered Calladine that, without the impending buy-out, Dobson’s crimes might never have come to light.
It was only about four in the afternoon, but at this time of the year it was already getting dark. If they didn’t find something soon they would need extra lights. Calladine didn’t want to leave all this exposed to the elements overnight. He took his mobile from his overcoat pocket and rang Rocco.
“Have you got anything? We’ve searched high and low but we can’t find anything. Is there something Patsy can tell us about where she was held?”
“She’s still a bit groggy and deeply shocked, sir. But she did say there was no light—no windows. She only escaped because a door opened above her, if that makes any sense.”
It might. Calladine went back into the outbuilding and walked around it. There were windows on two sides with no covering. If Patsy had been kept in here she’d have seen daylight and the night sky.
“Ruth! There are no other doors. It’s one room—so what is it we’re missing?”
“I don’t know, sir. Could there be a cellar? I mean, would a barn even have a cellar?”
Unlikely, but it had given him an idea. Calladine went outside again and walked all around the building. The land fell away on the far side. Over the years, soil and stone had been piled up against the wall, but it was possible that at some time in the past it had been a two storey building with another entrance back here, an entrance to what was then the ground floor.
“Ruth—I think what we’re standing in now was once the upper floor. If I’m right then there was once another way in, at the back.”
“So what are we looking for, sir?”
“A way down from in here—possibly a hidden entrance. Get the others.”
It didn’t take long. They found a loose flagstone laid over a wooden trapdoor that led down a flight of steps.
“Get Julian in here.”
“Forensics first!” Julian called out. He was suited up, and, his way lit by with several torches, he descended the steps. “Inspector!
Your man, Rigby, is down here. Get an ambulance!”
Calladine nodded at Ruth, hauled a white all-in-one suit over his clothes and went down after Julian. Robert Rigby was unconscious.
He had been struck by something, which had caused a wound to his head. The room they were in smelled dreadful. There was an old stained mattress on the floor and what looked a dentist’s chair in the far corner. Calladine shuddered. Those poor women—what they must have endured down here with no one to help them. He was just glad it was finally all over.
* * *
“A job well done, sir.” It was an hour later. “Rigby will be fine:
concussion and a broken arm. He was lucky; Dobson could have killed him—would have killed him if we hadn’t got him.”
“That’s it, then. It’s all down to forensics now to piece things together. Imogen’s been on. The DNA from the girls and the foetuses is a match for Dobson, so we’ve got him.”
“I think we should call it a day. I’m whacked; what about you?”
“I certainly am. It’s been a long haul—one of the worst. But we did it—we got that bastard off the streets and all the evidence we need to make a cast-iron case.”
“Coming to the pub? Celebration drink?”
An excellent idea, and there was a time when Calladine wouldn’t have had to think twice about it. But now he had commitments.
There were people at home to see to.
“You saw my house—they’ll all be back soon.” He checked his watch. “So no. I’m sorry to wimp out, but it’ll have to be another time, if you don’t mind. I’m going to make some food, delegate the washing-up and then put my feet up.”
“Doesn’t a stiff drink sound better, Tom? It’s been a big day altogether, what with the case, the horrors and all the personal stuff.”
“You just keep the box thing to yourself for now, Ruth. I’ll get it back when I’ve decided how to keep it away from prying eyes. And anyway—never mind me, perhaps you’d do better to go home and see Jake. Won’t he wonder where you are? You don’t really want to go back to him smelling of booze.”