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CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX - The Missing Link

The following day… Thursday 20th April…

4:00 am

Wendy woke with a start. Sweat was pouring from her. She sat up in bed and switched on the light. It was still dark outside. It was the middle of the night.
For a while she was dazed and did not know where she was. She looked about the room. Slowly everything began to familiarise as she recalled her surroundings. Above her was a low angled black and white beamed ceiling. In the room was a single bed, a wardrobe and a dressing table. Suddenly she felt reassured. This was her own bedroom. She rubbed her eyes. It was so silly of her not to recognise that she was back in her own home.
However, discovering that she was at home, on Castle Point, and lying in her own bed did not ease her troubled mind. She was still panicking and breathing heavily. She looked for Tim for comfort. Then she remembered; Tim was sleeping on the settee down stairs. Her parents were at home and they would be horrified to find out they were sleeping together.
With hands visibly shaking and body trembling uncontrollably, Wendy made her way down the stairs. Half way down she stopped and looked nervously behind her to see if anyone was following, then scuttled off in haste. She was scared rigid and her sweat-soaked nightie was clinging to her body. Those horrible nightmares had returned and Malcolm Smith had come back to haunt her.
In her nightmare she was back in her cage. She was peering through the bars and looking out into the dungeon beyond. This was another scene she remembered so vividly. On this occasion Tracy Goodyear had been captured and her naked body was spread out on the rack. Malcolm Smith was leaning forward and tormenting her. At the same time he was slowly turning the wheel. As the screws tightened Tracy began to scream. She recalled screaming herself through the bars, pleading with him to stop, and it was at this point she awoke in a horrible sweat.
Wendy found Tim asleep on the settee. She lifted up the covers and crept in alongside. There was very little space but Tim moved over and put his arms about her. She snuggled up even closer and closed her eyes. She knew that she would not sleep again that night, but at least now she had someone to protect her. She had also made up her mind. First thing in the morning she would contact Dr. Lang and tell him all about her nightmares.

8:30 am

Dr. Lang arrived at his surgery. He too had been awake for most of the night, but his mind had been on other things. Somewhere in the course of his investigations he was missing something; something vital, and until he could find out what it was he was not going to solve the puzzle.
He yawned.
“What’s the schedule for today?” he asked his secretary as he put on his white coat.
The doctor’s secretary was sitting at her desk. She lowered her spectacles to the edge of her nose and peered over the top at the doctor.
“I’ve reserved the morning entirely for your interview with the reporter from the Littlesea Gazette,” she told him. “The Governors’ were on to me yesterday. They’re demanding maximum publicity for the new hospital wing and are looking to you for a good report.”
The doctor sighed. Why did he always get the publicity jobs? There were lots of other able bodied doctors at the hospital quite capable of delivering a decent interview. The situation also did nothing to ease his backlog of appointments.
The doctor shrugged his shoulders in despair and made for his office. However, before entering, and with a hand on the doorknob, he turned to his secretary.
“Remember the Malcolm Smith affair and the kidnappings that took place back in January?” he asked. “Well, if any one of those girls rings me this morning, then put them through straightaway. Otherwise I’m indisposed… tell whoever it is that I’ll speak to them tomorrow.”
The doctor’s secretary thought it a strange request, but made a mental note. She knew the four girls in question. They had attended the doctor’s surgery on several occasions since that awful episode when a kidnapper was on the loose in Littlesea. She was thankful that the person responsible had been killed. He had been crushed to death beneath tons of rocks in a roof-fall beneath the old castle out at Castle Point.
“I’ll do that,” she told him. “If one of them rings I’ll put them through.”
The doctor gave a little nod of approval.
“Good,” he said simply, then entered his room.
He looked to his watch. He had about half an hour to spare before the reporter from the Littlesea Gazette arrived. He decided to use the time going back through the notes and statements handed to him by Inspector Hawkins. He needed to refresh his memory and there was always the off chance that he may have overlooked something.
The doctor had hardly any chance to get out the notes when the phone on his desk rang. He picked up the receiver.
“Yes?” he asked his secretary.
“It’s one of those girls you said you’d speak to… it’s Georgina Watkinson who wants to have a word,” she informed him.
“Good, put her through,” instructed Dr. Lang.
The doctor waited a few seconds for the call to be switched then spoke: “Yes Georgina, what have you found?”
Georgina was bubbling over with excitement and could not wait to tell the doctor.
“You were right about the car,” she answered. “Clive Carter does own a Mercedes… it’s registered at his London address, and as far as I can tell it’s the same model and colour as Roger Downton’s.”
The doctor smiled at the news, though he was not surprised. Something like this had to be the case otherwise nothing made sense.
“Good girl,” he praised Georgina, “at least that establishes the fact that it was his car parked in the road next to the park. All we need now is to find the motive… somehow we’ve got to establish a link between Clive Carter and Cropwatch… do that and we’ve got him.”
On the other end of the line Georgina agreed, but she was in a bit of a hurry and had to get ready for work. She had to be back on duty for ten o’clock.
“Is there anything else I can do doctor?” she asked.
The doctor thought for a moment.
“Other than go through police files and see if he’s got a record, there’s not a lot more you can do for the present,” he told her, “but never mind, what you have found out already is a good start… I think we’re well on the way now.”
“Okay doctor, I’ll have another nose through the records and see if I can dig up anything else on Clive Carter. Otherwise I’ll keep in touch via Davina as agreed,” she answered.
“That’s fine then Georgina… keep in touch,” he replied.
“I’ve got to go now… bye,” said Georgina.
“Bye,” echoed the doctor and put down the phone.
Deep in thought he returned to the piles of notes spread out on his desk. The evidence was building up against Clive Carter, but he still needed a motive, and more importantly his connection with Cropwatch.
“The clues are here somewhere,… they must be,” he mumbled to himself, then began to search through the great mass of Roger’s statements.
The doctor found the page he was looking for: He was interested in the time when Roger took Sylvia Sparelli to Castle Point and they met Clive Carter. He read through the statement. Roger apparently had collected Sylvia from Davina’s house, taken her first to Castle Point, then on to Littlesea where he dropped her off in the centre of the town. On Castle Point Roger stopped outside the first cottage. He told Sylvia that at one point he was interested in buying the property, but now an old friend had bought it. Clive Carter was there and they were introduced. They did not go into the property but remained at the gate. They must have talked for about ten minutes before moving on.
It seemed a simple enough statement and was corroborated by a quick read of Davina’s words on the matter. Davina herself confirmed that Sylvia had returned that day via a taxi. They had talked briefly about it afterwards and Davina was aware that Sylvia had visited Castle Point with Roger before being dropped off in Littlesea.
The doctor pondered over what he had just read. If anything it proved one thing: Clive Carter and Sylvia Sparelli had met. But other than that he drew a blank.
He moved on through Roger’s statement and came to the part when he admitted to seeing Gayle Jackson. On this occasion he had been to a funeral. (It was not stated but the doctor knew this to be Godfrey Brookes’ funeral because he was there himself.) Chloe Chambers had travelled down from London by train earlier that day. They had attended the funeral together, and afterwards Roger had driven Chloe back to her university in London. However, Roger did not drive away after dropping Chloe off at the university gates. She had asked Roger if he was prepared to hang around for a while and give a lift to herself and a friend to a house a couple of miles away. This was when Roger admitted to meeting Gayle Jackson. He said it was the only time he had ever set eyes on her. In his statement he said that Gayle sat in the back seat of his car and hardly spoke. In fact he could only remember her saying hello and goodbye.
The doctor read the statement through a second time, then pondered for a while. Finally he shook his head. Nothing made sense, and certainly there was no obvious link between Gayle Jackson and Clive Carter. What was even more baffling was the connection between the two missing girls and Cropwatch. In fact, other than both of them being members of the organisation, there was no mention of Cropwatch anywhere else in any of these statements. He shook his head in despair. He was totally at a loss. Somehow there had to be a link otherwise nothing made sense.
The doctor searched through Chloe’s papers next. He found the part where Roger had taken Chloe and Gayle the ride from the university and read it through. The two stories corroborated and he could see nothing untoward here.
With his mind probably on other things the doctor continued to read on through Chloe’s statement. What followed was the main part of what she had to say. Apparently, one week later and at approximately the same time, Chloe and Gayle walked to the same house as before. It was on this walk they came across the Mercedes and remarked that it looked like Roger Downton’s car. Afterwards she talked of Gayle having a bust up with her boyfriend and storming off on her own. She presumably went back via the park, and that was when she got herself abducted. For identification purposes the statement ended with what Chloe could remember of Gayle’s attire that night. She said that when Gayle disappeared she was wearing a dark suit outfit and dark glasses to hide a black eye she had sustained from a fall from a chair.
The doctor put the statement down, leant forward across his desk and cupped his head in hands. He tried to think, but the telephone broke his train of thoughts once more. He was annoyed at being interrupted. He grabbed the receiver.
“Hello, what is it?” he asked abruptly.
“It’s another one of those girls. She want’s to speak to you,” his secretary informed him.
The doctor believed it to be either Davina or Tracy on the line. One of them was on surveillance watch this morning. He had left it to them to organise between themselves. He therefore assumed it to be one of them reporting in to say that Clive Carter had set off for town to do some shopping. He was interested to find out just how much rations the man was buying. Was he catering for one or three?
“Hello?” said Dr. Lang.
“Doctor, it’s me… Wendy Bartlett,” came the reply.
For a moment the doctor was taken aback. Wendy was not meant to be phoning. As far as he was aware, she was away somewhere with her boyfriend Tim. He pulled himself together.
“What can I do for you Wendy?” he asked and trying not to sound too put out.
“Doctor, I’m having those horrible nightmares again,” she told him.
The doctor put his brain into gear and switched from being a detective to someone offering patient care. In this job he could not be rude and simply tell her to go away. He would chat to her for a few minutes, discover the basic symptoms of her problem, then get her to make an appointment for sometime next week.
“Wendy, is there any reason to have brought these nightmares on again?” he asked.
There was a pause. Even to explain was painful.
“Doctor, I went back to Cuckoo Cottage with Tim,” she began. “We went down to the dungeon and the door blew shut… we were trapped down there for three days… It was scary… and I saw horrible things… and now I’m having nightmares about them… and Malcolm Smith keeps returning to my dreams… he keeps on doing nasty things to me… and Tracy… I’ve seen him with her… he was making Tracy scream too… Oh doctor, it’s horrible... and I keep waking up in a cold sweat.”
The doctor considered the problem. However, after listening to Wendy’s tale he was not surprised. These were classic symptoms. He had warned her about revisiting places that reminded her of Malcolm Smith. He tried to put her mind at rest.
“Wendy… you know that Malcolm Smith is dead… he was crushed to death… you know he can’t harm you anymore,” he said in a calm and reassuring voice.
Wendy began to shake. Even over the telephone the doctor realised what was happening at the other end. He delved into his vast experience. Something more than being trapped in a dungeon had triggered off this outburst. Wendy had mentioned seeing something. He wondered what it was?
“Wendy… what else happened?… what did you see?” he asked.
Wendy collected her nerves.
“It was his clothes doctor… his motorbike leathers and boots… they were hidden in the bottom of the well outside… he must have thrown them down there,” she told him. “As soon as I saw them I began to shake… and now I can’t stop.”
“Wendy… calm down and listen to my voice,” he told her, “listen to my voice and do exactly what I tell you.”
Suddenly the change of voice instinctively made Wendy sit up and listen. Unknowingly she had been programmed to respond to the voice.
“Wendy, you are no longer shaking,” he told her. “Tell me you are no longer shaking.”
There was a pause.
“I’m no longer shaking,” came the reply.
For a while the doctor said nothing. He could hear Wendy’s breathing and waited for it to settle.
“Good,” he replied after a while, “now Wendy tell yourself that Malcolm Smith is dead… Tell yourself that he can no longer harm you… now say it Wendy… say it.”
There was another long pause before the answer came.
“Malcolm Smith is dead… he can no longer harm me,” repeated Wendy.
The doctor now considered that he was getting somewhere.
“Good girl Wendy… now put the phone down and go take a rest… I want you to sleep for a while… I’ll be round to see you as soon as I can… but don’t worry… just relax and remember what you have just said to me,… Malcolm Smith is dead and he can’t harm you anymore,” he told her.
There was another pause.
“Yes doctor… I’ll remember, and I’m not shaking now… thank you for helping me,” said Wendy and sounding in a dream.
“Good girl, now go and take a rest. You are feeling tired,” ordered the doctor.
Wendy yawned.
“Goodbye doctor... I feel tired… I’ll go and take a rest,” she said and put the phone down.
The doctor replaced his own receiver, leaned back in his chair and folded his arms behind his head. He sighed heavily. That was one distraction he really did not want. He returned his thoughts to Roger’s statements, but immediately found himself interrupted by the telephone once more. He grabbed at the receiver.
“Yes what is it now?” he snapped.
“The reporter from the Littlesea Gazette is here,” his secretary informed him.
The doctor grimaced and swore beneath his breath. He had a lot on his mind and no time to sort it out.
“Show him in,” he told his secretary then stood up and walked to the door to greet his guest.
The doctor put away his papers and told himself to calm down and relax: Further investigation would just have to wait until later. The trouble was, at the back of his mind a little nagging doubt had crept in. One that would not go away. It involved something Wendy had just said and an event that took place some three months ago. He needed to do some research and wondered where he could go to find out? Then he had an idea, and the solution was just about to walk through the door.
The door to the office opened and in stepped the reporter. The doctor walked across to greet him. He had met the man several times before and knew him to be Jim Spencer, a man in his fifties and with a long experience of reporting. The two were on first name terms.
“Welcome Jim,” said Dr. Lang, “come on in and take a seat.”
Jim Spencer offered his hand.
“Nice to see you again Gabriel,” he answered.
As they shook hands the doctor asked the burning question that was on his mind: “Jim… as soon as this interview is over, is it possible for me to take a look through some back issues of your newspaper?”
Jim Spencer was not expecting the question but quite naturally answered: “Why yes Gabriel... of course!”
He could see no reason why not. The records were there for the public to use.
The doctor gave a quiet nod of approval. Things were looking up and perhaps he was getting somewhere after all.
“Thanks Jim,” he told him, then got down to the matter in hand. “Please take a seat… I gather you want to know all about our new extension to the hospital?”

11:00 am

Tracy peered out through the windscreen of her car. She was parked in the castle car park. She had a clear view of Clive Carter’s van just down the road. It had not moved since the surveillance began more than twenty-four hours ago.
It was agreed the night before that Tracy, with a little help from Chloe, should do the morning shift. Davina had agreed to return at one o’clock to relieve her. It was hoped by then that Wendy might come and join in the vigil, but with Tim still around and completely in the dark as to what was going on, the other girls understood the problem. Wendy would be brought up-to-date with all the comings and goings only when she was alone and ready to hear the news.
As the morning crept by Tracy became bored. Ennui had set in. Nothing was happening, and simply sat staring at a stationary vehicle was becoming monotonous.
“I’m going to go and knock on his door again,” she told Chloe in a moment of complete tedium.
Chloe turned to Tracy sat by her side. They had discussed this very issue the night before and understood why she could not accompany her. She was also well aware of the boredom creeping in, and even though she would not be going with Tracy, she reckoned that by just doing something different it would relieve the irksome weariness of just sitting and staring out of the car windscreen.
“Well do be careful Tracy,” she told her, “and remember what the doctor told you. You must tell Clive Carter you live just down the road and are out looking for your cat.”
Tracy stretched out an arm and patted Chloe on the knee. She did her best to comfort her.
“Don’t worry Chloe, I’ll be careful,” she assured her. “Give me fifteen minutes that’s all, and if I’m not back by then, then start sounding the alarm bells. Phone Davina and explain what’s happened, then get her to phone Dr. Lang straightaway. He’ll be at his surgery.”
Chloe nodded her head and gave a nervous smile.
“Okay Tracy, I’ll do just that,” she assured her.
After a kiss and a hug Tracy set off.
Chloe watched her walk down the road. She hovered about the van, looked inside, then walked to the end of the hedgerow and peered down the hill to the dunes before returning to stand at the gateway to the cottage. She was obviously checking that the coast was clear before starting any action.
As Tracy disappeared up the garden path Chloe made a mental note of the time. It was five minutes after eleven o’clock and fifteen minutes was all Tracy was going to get. If she had not reappeared by twenty past eleven then it was a quick dash down to Tracy’s home and a panic phone call to Davina.

11:05 am

Tracy arrived at the front door to Number One, Cliff Top Cottages and rang the bell. Then she waited. Somehow the place looked deserted before she rang. It had that cold feeling about it. The rooms were dark inside and some of the windows were curtainless. She peered in through the letterbox. She was looking down the hallway. There was not much furniture and it looked like the place was being redecorated.
She rang the bell again, this time for several seconds, then knocked on the door. When no one came she stepped back and looked to her left and right. There were windows to either side. She moved along the path to her left and peered inside. She had seen all this the day before and nothing had altered. The furniture was covered in dust sheets and paint tins were on the floor.
Tracy decided to retrace her steps of yesterday and circle the building. She moved off to her left and turned the first corner. At each window she came to she peered inside. Only the bathroom with its frosted windows prevented her from seeing inside. To the rear of the house there was evidence that the lawn had been mowed just a few days ago. In general the back garden with its large lawn and fruit trees did not appear unkempt and overgrown. This at least was an encouraging sign.
Tracy rounded the last corner. She was now walking the path that ran between the hedgerow that overlooked the dunes and the cottage. There was a large water butt here collecting rainwater from the roof. As she walked past something struck her on the back of the head. Immediately everything around her went black and she collapsed to the floor, and that was the last thing she remembered.

Lying unconscious on the ground, a lone figure grabbed Tracy by the feet and began to drag her along the path and then across the lawn to the rear of the cottage. In the far corner of the garden there was a small hole in the hedge. It was not easy and Tracy’s assailant found difficulty in dragging the lifeless body through to the other side. Branches snagged and tore at her clothing. Her skirt rode up her body exposing plain white panties beneath. On the other side the dragging stopped for a while. By now Tracy looked the worst for wear. A trickle of blood ran down the side of her face, and scratch marks from the branches ran along her legs and arms.
After a short rest the dragging resumed. This time along the top of the hill for a short distance, then down the steep sided slope, and all the time Tracy’s head banged and bumped on the ground beneath her.
Beneath a large overhanging rock her assailant stopped and rested once more. As his breathing regulated he parting a thicket of overgrown gorse bushes. Behind was a small opening in the rock face. He slid through the gap head first and with feet trailing. Moments later his head re-appeared into the daylight. With arms outstretched he made a grab for Tracy’s ankles and slowly began to draw the unconscious body inside.
As Tracy’s head disappeared into the blackness of the opening, the gorse bushes sprang back into place. The same lone bird cocked its head, twittered a little song, then flew away. It had a blade of straw in its beak but decided this was no place to build a nest.

11:10 am

Dr. Lang and Jim Spencer arrived at the offices of the Littlesea Gazette in the centre of the town. They had driven the two miles or so in the reporter’s car. They got out and made for the building.
As they passed through the main doorway to the offices the doctor was wondering whether he should have informed his secretary where he was going; then decided it was best left the way it was. After a longish talk in his office, the doctor and Jim Spencer had walked to the new building site and spent a little time looking around. Afterwards, from there, and deep in conversation, they had sauntered across to the main hospital car park and drove away in Jim’s car with the promise that he would bring the doctor back later.
The records office of the Littlesea Gazette was empty and they had it all to themselves. There were copies of each newspaper all filed away in neat rows of binders. There were also complete records going back years on microfilm. Since the doctor was looking for something just three months old he considered the actual newspapers to be his best bet to start with.
The doctor knew what day he wanted. He had checked out the date in his own diary before leaving his office.
“I would like to see January seventh of this year,” he told Jim, adding; “it was a Friday.”
Jim worked his way along a long row of shelving and extracted a folder. He placed it on a table and opened it out.
“There’s the Early, Evening and Late editions in here,” he told the doctor, “take a look at all three.”
At a quick glance whichever edition the doctor chose it did not matter. All had the same headlines and photograph. The banner read: ‘ABDUCTOR MEETS AN UNTIMELY END’, and the picture showed a body covered by a blanket being carried across the castle car park.
 To be truthful the doctor was a little disappointed. There was not much to show in the picture. He guessed it to be severely edited with just the stretcher and the two carriers highlighted from a much bigger picture.
The doctor tutted.
“Jim, have you got the original pictures?” he asked.
The reporter looked around the room, then nodded his head.
“I think we might have,” he replied then moved to a long line of drawers and cabinets.
After a longish search Jim returned with a large envelope. He opened it up and tipped the contents onto the table.
“Is this what you’re looking for?” he asked.
The doctor spread out the photographs. They were large in size and in black and white. There were about three dozen pictures in total. Slowly he worked his way through them. Viewing in sequence they told a story from the time the body of Malcolm Smith emerged from the castle to the point where the ambulance drove away. After that there were pictures of the crowd that had gathered to watch the spectacle.
Halfway through the doctor stopped and looked more closely. The angle showed the stretcher being carried away from the photographer. The body was covered by a blanket, but in this shot he could see the feet, or at least one foot clearly. On that foot was a sandal. The doctor pondered over what he had discovered and found it very interesting.
He put the photograph to one side and moved on to the end. The rest were of the crowd. There were a few people he recognised, including himself. He was about to put them all away when the very last photograph caught his eye.
The doctor showed the picture to Jim and pointed to a group of people stood to the back of the crowd. There were six of them all dressed in flowery gowns, all seemed to have long unkempt hair, and all had bands about their foreheads. They looked like a bunch of hippies.
“Who are these guys?” he asked.
Jim scanned the photograph.
“Ah!… Those must be the hippies that camped up by the castle grounds. It took weeks for the Council to evict them. In fact it was probably only a few days before this happened they finally got moved out of the area. So I’m a little surprised to see them on the photo. I think the whole community breathed a sigh of relief when they left. At one point they broke into the castle and held a party below the keep. I’m told the place was a mess afterwards. There were drugs and needles everywhere,” Jim explained.
Dr. Lang recalled the fact that the padlock to the underground chamber had been forced and evidence of drug taking had been found down below. He even recalled something Georgina had done. She had secured the gate that barred the entrance with her own handcuffs to prevent anyone else entering.
The doctor rubbed his chin thoughtfully. He was beginning to think the unthinkable.
“Did you do any write-ups on the hippies?” he asked Jim.
The reporter nodded his head.
“Yes, we followed the story in several editions, but I think at the time the main headlines were for the missing girls, so you might have missed what we wrote,” the reporter explained.
The doctor became more thoughtful.
“Can I have a look? Or better still, have you got any photographs?” he asked.
Jim Spencer looked around the room then nodded his head.
“Sure,” he answered, then went away.
He returned quite quickly with another large envelope and deposited the contents on the table.
“Are these what you’re looking for?” he asked.
The doctor scanned through the latest set of photographs.
“These are all taken in the dunes!” he observed.
Jim nodded his head.
“That’s where they set up camp,” he told the doctor. “They started a commune some way into the dunes and well away from the road… no one seemed to mind when they were there, it was when they took over the old castle everyone started to object.”
Considering deeply what he had just heard, the doctor moved on slowly through the photographs. There were about three dozen of these too. Then suddenly he stopped.
“I don’t believe it!” he exclaimed.
Jim Spencer leant across to see what the doctor was looking at. It showed a circle of old vehicles parked up in the dunes, most of them were campervans. Right in the centre there was a campervan with writing on the side. The words read: ‘I am Alpha and Omega, the beginning and the end, the first and the last.’
The doctor said nothing but remained staring at the picture. Suddenly pieces of the jigsaw were falling into place. But there was still one other mystery to solve, and he thought he knew where he could find the answer.
He turned to the reporter.
“Jim, I’m looking for one more set of photographs… did you by any chance cover the funeral of Godfrey Brookes?” he asked.
Jim Spencer thought for a moment, then nodded his head.
“I do believe we did,” he said thoughtfully.
Godfrey Brookes had been a stalwart of the community and he recalled that his funeral had been covered by his newspaper, but not by him. He went away and started searching through the drawers.
It took a little time, but in the end Jim returned to the table carrying yet another large envelope.
“You going to let me into your secret?” he asked the doctor as he laid the envelope down on the table.
Dr. Lang said nothing, but opened up the envelope and began to work his way through the photographs. They were all taken outside the little church where Godfrey was buried. The doctor found himself on one of the pictures. In the background the coffin was being carried to the grave. He continued on through the pile. Then he stopped at a certain picture. He smiled. He had found what he was looking for. There were a lot of people on the photograph, and Roger and Chloe were amongst them. Chloe was dressed in black and wearing dark glasses. He also found something else very interesting. Tucked away in the background there was a figure of a man dressed in a white robe. His head was covered with a hood and he was wearing a beard.
Dr. Lang’s face slowly turned from furrowed brow to the widest grin imaginable.
“Well I never!” he exclaimed, “that’s the link I’ve been searching for!… that’s the missing link… and I was wrong… its got nothing to do with Cropwatch after all!”
He turned to Jim Spencer who was standing by his side and looking more than a little bemused.
“Jim,” he said, “Can I use your phone? I want to speak to Inspector Hawkins… and afterwards, if you want the biggest scoop of you life, I want you to take me to Castle Point… I think I know where those two missing girls from London can be found, and I know exactly who did it.”
 
11:20 am

Chloe counted down the minutes. As soon as the fifteen minutes were up she got out of the car. She was starting to get worried. Tracy had not returned in the allotted time. She moved quickly on down the road but being very careful to stay in the centre where she could be seen.
Stood in the road alongside the parked van she called: “Tracy!… are you there?… where are you?… can you hear me?”
She then peered through the gateway and called again up the garden path: “Tracy!… where are you?… are you there?”
She listened hard but could hear no reply.
Suddenly she off, heading for Tracy’s home. She burst into the hallway and grabbed for the phone. She dialled Davina in a hurry and waited.
Davina answered.
“Davina, it’s me, Chloe,” she said in a panic. “You’d better get over here quickly… Tracy’s gone missing… she called at Clive Carter’s cottage and she hasn’t returned… and you’d better phone Dr. Lang… get him here straightaway too.”
Davina tried to make sense of the garbled message.
“What do you mean? Tracy’s gone missing?” she asked.
“She has… and I’ve called and called and she doesn’t answer,” raved Chloe.
Davina decided it best to do what Chloe had said. She could also see the danger if Chloe went looking for Tracy.
“Right Chloe, where are you phoning from?” she asked.
“Tracy’s house,” she answered.
“Then stay right where you are and wait for me… Don’t go outside… I’ll phone the doctor then be on my way,… so wait for me,” Davina instructed.
Chloe agreed.
“Okay… I’ll wait here Davina,” she replied, “but please… do hurry.”
“I will,… I’ll be as quick as possible,” replied Davina and put down the phone.
Davina immediately rang Dr. Lang’s surgery. His secretary answered.
“Is the doctor there?” she asked.
“No,” replied the secretary, “he’s out in the hospital grounds somewhere with a reporter from the Littlesea Gazette. Can I leave a message?”
Davina did not know what to do.
“This is Davina Townsend here… can I leave a message?… it’s most important,” she asked.
“Yes, please do,” answered the secretary.
“Tell Dr. Lang to go to Castle Point straightaway… and hurry… it’s a matter of life and death,” Davina told her.
The secretary was beginning to wonder what this was all about.
“I’ll tell him as soon as he comes back,” she answered.
“Good, and tell him it’s urgent,… very urgent,” stressed Davina, then slammed the phone down.
Quickly she grabbed her keys and made for the car. Littlesea was seven miles away. She was planning on doing the journey in record time.

11:30 am

As the dark cloud that hung over her began to lift, Tracy found herself living in two very different worlds. In one she was resting peacefully, with mountain lakes and lily-white doves fluttering about her head. In the other her body was being bounced up and down on the shoulders of someone carrying her. Her head was spinning and she tried to open her eyes, but nothing happened. Immediately the effort proved far too much and for a while she drifted back to a grassy bank alongside a small lake. Here the world was beautiful. In this idyllic setting why she wanted to do anything other than rest she did not know?
The second more harsh world returned with a thud. She had been dropped from the shoulders onto a hard wooden platform. The impact knocked the wind out of her and for a moment her eyes did open. In a state of semi-consciousness her brain told her that she must be heaven. Standing over her was a figure clad all in white. He had long ginger hair and a beard. Then her vision glazed over and her heavy eyes fell shut. Within seconds she was back on the hillside overlooking the lake.
But the peaceful setting did not last long. Once more Tracy found her idyllic world being torn away from her. She wanted to stay but the second world was becoming more prominent now. This time her body was being bounced up and down on the boards. Someone was pulling a sweater up and over her head. She opened her eyes again, then felt reassured. The man in white was removing all her clothing. Perhaps this was what happened before you entered the pearly gates? She smiled and closed up her eyes, and very soon she was back alongside the lake. This time she was standing naked with the waters lapping about her toes. It looked so inviting and she wanted to dive in.
Tracy raised up her arms above her head and put her hands together. She was about to plunge into the water when the second, more harsh world returned. Her hands were together and above her head just like in the first world. But in this world she was lying on her back, and she could no longer pull her hands apart. Something was binding them together at the wrists. She struggled to break free but nothing happened. Her hands had been secured to something above her head.
The effort proved too much for Tracy and she returned to the world she loved. In this world it did not matter that her hands were bound together, or the fact that she was naked. There was nothing but love all around. She was lying on the grassy banks once more, her arms resting above her head. She wanted Chloe. She wanted her to kneel down between her legs and run her tongue along her crack just like she did when they were in bed together. She opened out her legs in eager readiness. She could feel her juices running. She was convinced that Chloe would come and start making love to her.
Then a cold wind blew between her legs and the harshness of the second world returned. Her legs were apart in this world too and she tried to pull them together to protect herself from the icy blast, but nothing moved. She lifted her head. She could not raise it far because of the way her arms were held above her. But in the brief second it took for her head to bob up and down she saw the reason for her feet not moving. One ankle was already secured by a leather strap, the other was in the process of being fastened. Things were becoming much more lucid now. She was lying on a bench raised up from the floor, and the man in white was standing near the bottom. He was fastening a buckle about her ankle.
Suddenly reality struck home and Tracy tried to kick away the leg before the buckle was complete. But it was too late, the strap pulled tight and locked in place.
Tracy raised up her head once more. This time she was able to hold it there for a few seconds longer. She looked about her. She was in a chamber with high arching roof. There were candles all around casting shadows in the flickering light.
As Tracy’s head returned to the boards she happened to glance sideways. Suddenly she screamed. She could not help herself. The sight had come as too much of a shock. To her right, and just a short distance away were the bodies of two naked girls suspended back to back from a long chain. They hung limp and lifeless by the wrists and were covered in red welts from head to toe.
Tracy dropped her head back to the boards with a thud and shut her eyes tightly. She did not want to see anymore. Then something grabbed at one of her nipples and squeezed until it hurt.
“Come on,… open up,… look at me,” she heard someone saying.
Tracy opened up her eyes to see the man in white standing over her. He was still holding onto her nipple and squeezing tightly. His features remained a little blurred and she tried hard to focus.
“Well I never!… I do believe it’s little Miss Tracy Goodyear we’ve got here!” exclaimed the man and sounding much amused.
Tracy collected her thoughts. How did he know her name? She did not recognise him, and as far as she could tell, she had never set eyes on him before.
“Who are you?” she asked and still in a daze.
The man laughed a horrible cackling chuckle.
“You don’t recognise me do you?” he taunted.
Tracy closed her eyes and immediately the fingers that held her nipple began to squeeze hard once more.
“Come on, stay alert… I asked you a question… I want you to tell me who I am,” beckoned the man as his vice-like grip continued to twist and contort the cherry-red nipple.
Tracy re-opened her eyes. He was hurting badly.
“Please, you’re hurting me,” she told him.
This only made the man squeeze even harder, and to make matters worse he took up the other nipple with his other hand and began to squeeze that too.
“I shan’t repeat myself again… I want you to tell me who I am, otherwise things could get really painful,” threatened the man.
Tracy swayed her head from side to side. She had not got a clue who this man was.
“I don’t know!… I don’t know!… I don’t know!,” she repeated over and over again as she continued to shake her head from side to side.
The man cackled that awful laugh again and released his grip. He then stood upright and took a step back.
“Then perhaps this will help,” he said as his hands moved to lift his white smock up and over his head.
Tracy could only lie there and stare on in disbelief as the man disrobed. The body beneath was scrawny in comparison. The man was just wearing boxer shorts and his bare chest was spotty and void of hairs. She could now see that the garment he was wearing had been heavily padded.
“Still not got a clue?” taunted the man as the smock fell to the floor.
Tracy’s eyes opened wide and she moved her head slowly from side to side. She still did not recognise him.
“Then perhaps this will help,” he teased as he moved a hand to his beard.
Tracy stared upwards into the man’s face and watched in horror as the beard slowly began to peel away.
Suddenly her jaw dropped and she screamed.
“YOU!” was all she could utter.

* * *

End of Chapter Thirty-six