Finally they came to a derelict stone-built barn in a patch of dense woodland. It looked like there might once have been a crofter’s cottage next to it, but the foundations were all that remained of it now.
Joyce was told to drive around to the far side of the barn and pull up in front of a set of double doors. She registered that these looked to be in comparatively good order.
The grey-clad figure climbed swiftly out of the Range Rover, hooded head down, keeping his back to the vehicle.
He removed an iron bar, which formed a kind of improvised bolting device across the barn doors, then beckoned Joyce to drive in.
She hesitated, uncertain what was waiting inside. Wondering whether she should swing the car around and take off at speed with her daughter. At least that way she could convey one of her children to safety.
She glanced at Molly again. Her daughter was still shivering.
‘Drive in, Mum. Do it,’ ordered Molly, her voice shaky and high-pitched.
Joyce opened her mouth to explain her fears. But Fred might be in that barn. He might still be in danger. Considerable danger. She couldn’t drive away, abandon him there.
And the hooded creature now standing alongside the car, head bowed and shoulders hunched, had obviously known that full well.
Slowly Joyce drove forward through the big wooden doors, which were immediately closed behind her, then switched off the engine.
She glanced quickly around her, taking Molly’s hand in hers and squeezing it tightly. It was light inside the barn. Most of the roof was missing and the rain was falling as heavily within its crumbling walls as without. The barn offered little protection from the elements, but it did, of course, effectively conceal those inside its walls, which were almost entirely still standing. Just about.
There was another vehicle parked to one side. An old blue Honda Accord. Several large Calor gas canisters were lined up along one wall, next to a tarpaulin-covered lump. She looked at it in alarm, then became aware of the large military-style tent which had been erected in another corner.
The middle panel was being unzipped.
A familiar small figure in unfamiliar clothes — military-style heavy-duty wear, too big for him — stepped through the gap. Joyce involuntarily let go of Molly’s hand.
It was Fred.
‘Mum! Molly!’ he cried, his face lighting up with joy.
Oblivious to anything except the appearance of their beloved Fred, mother and daughter both opened their car doors and jumped out to greet the boy.
Fred ran towards them. Joyce reached out and grabbed him. Then she wrapped both her children in her arms.
Eighteen
Vogel was in his office, reflecting on another disturbing day in the Tanner/Mildmay case. By the time Joyce Mildmay was being reunited with her younger son, he had known for four hours that Joyce and her daughter Molly were missing. Or, at least, their whereabouts was unknown.
Joyce’s mother, Felicity, had called the DI when Joyce and Molly had failed to turn up at the hospital. Felicity had, it seemed, plumbed the policeman’s mobile number into her phone when he’d given her his card on the day that Fred had been reported missing.
‘I’m calling you direct, Mr Vogel, because I know you will understand my concern,’ she told him. ‘They should have been here an hour ago. Joyce called to tell me she was coming to see her father, and that she was bringing Molly with her. She was determined. Aggressive, even. And I’ve been trying to call them ever since. Neither of them are answering their phones.’
‘An hour isn’t long, Mrs Tanner,’ Vogel had said, trying to sound reassuring.
He doubted he was convincing. Under the circumstances, he was inclined to agree that the woman was right to be alarmed.
‘It doesn’t necessarily mean anything ominous. Perhaps they’ve stopped off to do some shopping, or they could have had a puncture.’
As he spoke he realized he had made a pretty stupid remark. Felicity picked him up on it straight away.
‘Mr Vogel, my grandson is missing and my husband has been shot. Do you seriously think my daughter would stop off to do some shopping on her way to the hospital?’ Felicity responded sharply. ‘And if they’d had a puncture or been delayed, Joyce or Molly would have called or texted. Or at least answered their phones when I called them. No. Something is wrong. Something has happened to them.’
Vogel gave up trying to allay her fears. Clearly he wasn’t making a very good job of it.
All he said was: ‘I’ll check out what you’ve told me and get back to you.’
Nobby Clarke had returned to Kenneth Steele House as soon as it became clear that Henry Tanner would not be able to speak to her. Vogel found her in the incident room and informed her that they could now have two more missing people on their hands.
The DCI was edgier than Vogel had ever known her to be, but still reluctant to launch another missing persons enquiry.
‘Joyce Mildmay is an adult and her daughter is fifteen,’ she said. ‘They could have gone anywhere.’
‘True,’ Vogel had muttered.
But that exchange had been nearly four hours ago. During that time Vogel had organized routine checks of road traffic and emergency call data. There had been no reported incidents that might relate to Joyce and Molly or their vehicle.
Vogel had also asked for CCTV coverage of the route Joyce Mildmay would most likely have taken to Southmead to be checked. Starting with the CCTV at Tarrant Park itself. This was not a task which could be swiftly completed, and Vogel had yet to be made aware of any significant footage.
He’d also organized checks of both Molly and Joyce’s mobile phone accounts, and had already been told that neither mother nor daughter had made or received a call since five hours earlier when Molly had unsuccessfully tried to call an unidentified pay-as-you-go phone. She had successfully sent and picked up texts to that number, the content of which was as yet unknown. Molly had been in the Bristol area at the time. The location of the pay-as-you-go phone had yet to be ascertained. Neither had it yet proved possible for the tech boys to track the present whereabouts of either that phone or those belonging to Molly and her mother. The techies reported that it was probable the SIM cards had been removed from all three phones. Which was clearly disturbing.
Because of the unique circumstances, a full-scale missing persons investigation was launched far earlier than would usually be the case. Vogel felt sure that the unexplained disappearance of Joyce and Molly had to be linked to Fred Mildmay going missing, and he knew that Nobby Clarke must feel the same. Even though she was still not really sharing her opinions or much else with him.
By 6 p.m. that investigation had stalled and Vogel had had enough of waiting around. And of not being kept informed. He stormed into Nobby Clarke’s temporary office and told her so.
‘Boss, I don’t care what you say,’ he announced, ‘I’m off to the hospital. We now have three missing people. And I reckon if there’s one man who can tell us what’s going on, it’s Henry Tanner. You know damned well he holds the key to all of this. A woman and two children—’
‘One of those children is with her mother, Vogel, and she is fifteen. Let’s not over-react,’ said the DCI reasonably.
‘But what if Joyce Mildmay received a ransom demand of some sort and decided not to tell us? That fifteen-year-old and her mother could be off somewhere trying to deal with the kidnappers,’ persisted Vogel. ‘Imagine the danger that would put them in. That’s not over-reaction.’
‘Neither is it a theory we have any evidence to support,’ responded Clarke. ‘Vogel, this is a complex case. Anything could have happened.’