In the second rank were Ned and his experts, which on this occasion included Alan Thorpe. Ned reckoned he deserved the opportunity but had taken the precaution of administering a severe warning about no chatter. Pale with excitement, Al had taken it on board and remained mute.

  As they neared their target, Greg noted that it was in total darkness, not a light showing anywhere. He nodded to Jenny and Steve to deploy to the back garden, just in case anyone made a run for it, then he and the man with the ram approached the front door, followed by Jill. Just as they stepped forward, light flooded the front garden with brilliance.

  ‘Damn! Motion sensors,’ said Greg. ‘Too late for the quiet approach now. Go for it.’

  The shout of ‘Police! Open up!’ rang out almost simultaneously with the bang as the ram hit the front door just below the lock. It didn’t take two tries. As the door flew open, in his peripheral vision Greg saw the backup from the nearest squad car deploy into the road. They barrelled into the house, Greg first, followed closely by the sergeant and Jill. To their right was a door which, according to the plans on Rightmove, should be the sitting room. It was, and it was empty.

  ‘Clear,’ shouted Greg.

  Jill headed past him to the door at the back of the hall, which turned out to be a bathroom.

  ‘Clear,’ she said, and they both moved down the hall toward the remaining three doors. Jill checked the one on the left. Another bedroom.

  ‘Clear,’ she said. The door on the right opened to reveal a terrified woman holding a walking stick in her hand. She brandished it and screamed.

  ‘Get out! I’ve rung the police. Get out!’

  Greg took a step back as the stick whistled past his face, then leaped forward under the next swing and wrestled it off her. With a push, he precipitated the dressing gown-clad lady into the arms of the sergeant, who wrapped her in a bear hug.

  ‘Calm down,’ he said into her ear. ‘We are the police, and we have a warrant to search these premises.’ If anything, this galvanised her into further activity and Jill had to come to the rescue to help subdue her.

  Greg emerged from the room behind. ‘Bedroom and en suite,’ he reported. ‘Clear. No sign of the children so far. Get Jenny and Turbo in.’

  Mrs Hamilton had been pushed into the spare bedroom, the uniformed sergeant standing over her ready to quell any signs of rebellion.

  ‘Where are the children, Mrs Hamilton?’ demanded Greg. ‘Where are Karen and Jake? We know you’ve posted photos of them on the internet.’

  She sat in stony silence.

  Steve pushed his head round the front door. ‘Jenny thinks Turbo has found something in the back garden,’ he reported.

  Greg’s heart sank. Don’t say we’re too late, he thought.

  Jill had been scouting the kitchen. ‘Also clear,’ she said. ‘Should I get Ned in for a closer look?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Greg, watching Mrs Hamilton closely for a reaction, any reaction. But he realised bleakly that she’d reacted more to the news about the back garden than she had to the prospect of a forensic examination of her property. His heart sank still further, and he followed Steve out of the house and round to the back garden.

  It was currently as brightly lit as three powerful police torches could make it. The focus of all the light was the furiously wagging rump of an excited springer spaniel and a rough concrete pillar. As he approached, the dog sat and pointed at the pillar with his nose. Jenny, responding to the canine prompt, stepped forward to lift a large, and evidently heavy, planter off the top of the pillar with her blue-gloved hands. She put it down beside the dog, then redirected her torchlight into the interior of the apparently hollow construction. Greg reached her side just as she pulled at something in a heavy-duty plastic bag.

  Thinking that it looked as though it had been there some time, Greg was about to divert attention to the interior of the bungalow, when Turbo broke ranks and jumped up at the pillar. It fell back under the impetus of his sudden weight and the concrete shattered to reveal a plywood tube containing an amorphous shape wrapped in plastic. In the light of the torches they could see a split in the wrapping, and what it revealed of the contents froze the words on Greg’s lips. His first thought was at least it wasn’t the children. He vocalised the second.

  ‘Tell Ned we need him here, and ring the pathologist,’ he said, looking at the partially skeletonised body under the wrappings.

  In the sitting room, Ned was busy organising his troops when Al coughed nervously to attract his attention.

  ‘This cupboard door’s locked,’ he said.

  Ned came over to inspect the door, then walked through the hall and into the bathroom to examine the wall from the other side, as best he could with a walk-in shower in the way.

  ‘Get the ram,’ he said. ‘We need this door open.’ Then he called for quiet. ‘If there’s anyone there, stand clear, we’re coming through,’ he shouted at the door. Then he nodded to the sergeant. ‘The rooms don’t measure up,’ he said. ‘There’s something behind here. Can you open it, please?’

  ‘No problem,’ said the sergeant, and swung. The door flew open to reveal a flight of steps going down.

  ‘Get Greg,’ Ned said to Steve, who was hovering by the back door, and reaching out, he flicked the light switch by the door. At the bottom of the stairs he saw two scared faces, one behind the other.

  ‘Got them,’ he said under his breath, and held out his hand. ‘It’s OK,’ he said. ‘You’re safe now. You can come out. We’re the police. We’re here to take you to safety.’

  34

  5 August 2020 – the early hours

  Out in the garden, everyone was staring at the body, so abruptly decanted from the pillar.

  ‘Don’t touch anything else, secure the scene and wait for Ned,’ Greg instructed Jenny. ‘And get Turbo back in your car. We don’t need any more help from him!’ Then he turned and followed Steve back into the bungalow.

  He found Ned sitting on a flight of steps leading down to a cellar. He was talking to someone out of Greg’s line of sight.

  ‘It really is all over, I promise,’ Ned was saying. ‘Come on, you can leave the cellar now and we’ll take you somewhere safe.’

  ‘Are they both there, Ned?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes, both safe and sound,’ said Ned over his shoulder.

  Greg looked round at Jill. ‘I think it might be a good idea if you go and give Ned a hand,’ he said in an undertone. ‘I’ll ring that safeguarding lead. Is an ambulance on its way?’

  ‘Yes, Boss. First thing I did, as agreed,’ she replied.

  Jill joined Ned on the stairs. ‘Hi,’ she said, ‘I’m Jill. You know my best friend, Diana Grain, don’t you, Karen?’

  ‘You mean Miss Grain my teacher?’ said a small voice from the bottom of the stairs.

  ‘That’s right. She lives with me in a little cottage in Thorpe. Look, I’ve got a photo of her on my phone.’ She held out her phone to Karen, who came a couple of steps up to study the photo of two laughing faces with a cottage garden in the background.

  Karen looked from the photo to Jill, and back again. ‘That’s you, with Miss Grain,’ she said. ‘We really are safe now.’

  ‘You’re safe now,’ repeated Jill.

  In a sudden rush, Karen ran up the stairs and into Jill’s arms. ‘Thank you, thank you,’ she cried. Then she turned and looked over her shoulder. ‘Come on, Jake,’ she said. ‘It’s safe now. We can come out.’

  ‘No,’ said a voice in mulish tones. ‘It’s not safe and I’m not coming out. We have to stay home. It’s the law. You heard it on the TV. We have to stay home.’

  Jill glanced at Ned then back at Jake. ‘It really is OK,’ she said. ‘Honest. I’m with the police, and if I say you can come out, then you can come out.’

  ‘No,’ repeated Jake. ‘It’s not safe. I’ll get Covid and I’ll die. I’m not coming out.’ And he started to cry. ‘I want Aunty Jo,’ he sobbed.

  Jill looked at Ned again, at a loss what to do next.

  ‘I’ve an idea,’ muttered the father of three and, taking out a mask from his pocket, he went down a step toward Jake, who retreated backward across the small cellar until his legs came up against the bed behind him.

  ‘Look,’ said Ned, holding out the mask. ‘You put this on and I’ll put mine on, then you’ll be safe, I promise. You’ve seen people on the TV wearing masks, haven’t you? I’m even wearing full protection.’ He gestured at his coveralls. ‘Come on, lad,’ he added, ‘it’s very late and your sister’s waiting for you.’

  ‘She hasn’t got a mask on,’ said Jake, pointing to Jill.

  ‘Quite right,’ said Ned. ‘Jill, put your mask back on like a good girl.’

  Jill pulled her mask back up as instructed, her other arm still round Karen, and Jake came slowly up the stairs. All four of them backed away from the steps and went to sit on the big sofa – the one where the children had sat, on the first evening that Aunty Jo had found them in the boat, had Jill and Ned but known it.

  ‘Where’s Aunty Jo?’ asked Jake again.

  ‘She’s talking to my boss,’ replied Jill. ‘Don’t worry about her. Very soon we’ll take you to somewhere you can have a rest and a meal. Is there anything you’d really like, and I’ll see what we can do?’

  ‘Ice cream,’ said Jake straight away. Karen didn’t say anything. Jill looked down at her with concern and noticed the child seemed to be in shock.

  ‘Are you all right, Karen?’ she asked quietly.

  ‘Yes,’ she replied. ‘But I need to tell you something. Jake’s “Aunty Jo” has been keeping us prisoner. Jake doesn’t understand, but she has.’

  ‘Yes, we know,’ said Jill, under cover of Ned’s ongoing, ice cream-related conversation with Jake. ‘We’re dealing with Aunty Jo, don’t worry. Did she hurt you?’

  ‘Only when she pushed me down the stairs,’ said Karen. ‘I was trying to escape and she didn’t like it.’

  Jill’s expression hardened, but anything she might have said was interrupted by the arrival of blue flashing lights in the road outside. ‘I think that’s the ambulance,’ she said to Karen.

  ‘Why?’ The girl was startled. ‘We’re not ill.’

  ‘It’s normal,’ said Jill. ‘We just need them to check you over, make sure you’re all right, then we’ll find you somewhere safe to stay. Don’t worry. They’re nice, and I’ll stay with you.’ She could hear the sounds of paramedics arriving and running the gauntlet of the officers securing the scene, then a young man clad in green came in with bag in hand.

  ‘So, are these my two customers?’ he asked, putting his bag down on the floor and surveying the children, hands on hips. ‘Doesn’t look much wrong with you, I must say. But how about you come out to my ambulance and we’ll have a proper look at you?’

  Jake looked up. ‘Are we going for a ride in your ambulance?’ he asked.

  ‘That’s the plan,’ the young man agreed.

  ‘Can I sound the siren?’ asked Jake.

  ‘We’ll see about that,’ said the paramedic. ‘Maybe not just now, it’s still the middle of the night and you’d wake everyone up. But you can turn the blue lights on and off if you’re good.’

  Jake stood up with alacrity. ‘OK,’ he said.

  Karen rolled her eyes at Jill, and stood up to follow. As they passed through the hall, Jill noted, with relief, that the door to the spare bedroom was firmly closed. She and Ned stood back as the two children were ushered into the ambulance.

  ‘I’ll go with them to the hospital,’ she said to Ned. ‘I assume social services will take over from there, but we can’t leave them on their own till then.’

  ‘I agree,’ said Ned. ‘Greg’s with the so-called Aunty Jo, I suppose. What about the children’s relatives? Who will inform them?’

  ‘Either Greg or me, I would think,’ said Jill. ‘There’s only some grandparents and they don’t seem to have been involved in the children’s lives very much. I don’t know what will happen to them now.’

  ‘Poor kids,’ said Ned. ‘Meanwhile, I’d better take a look at Turbo’s find in the back garden. It may be they had a lucky escape.’

  In the spare bedroom, Greg was surveying Aunty Jo, now handcuffed and sulking on the bed, her gaze directed at the floor.

  ‘Joanne Hamilton, I am arresting you for the false imprisonment of Karen Mirren and Jake Mirren. We also wish to question you about the body we have just found in the garden. Other charges may follow. You do not have to say anything. But it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence.’ He paused for a reaction, but got nothing beyond one wild glance up at the mention of the body. ‘You will now be taken to a police station and questioned further. If you want legal advice that will be arranged.’ He looked at Steve. ‘Take her to Wymondham and see her processed – I need to join Ned. I’ll question her in the morning, which isn’t far away by the look of things,’ he added, noting the lighter sky in the east.

  When he joined Ned in the garden, he could indeed hear the beginnings of the dawn chorus, the voices of blackbirds predominating. A couple of the forensic team were unrolling a tent, preparatory to erecting it over the felled column and its grisly contents. Ned was bent over studying the plastic, the glimpse of bones and partially mummified flesh.

  ‘We need the doc,’ he said to Greg over his shoulder. ‘And possibly your friends George and Mildred.’

  Greg grimaced at the reference to the idiosyncratic forensic anthropologists from Bradford. ‘Let’s wait and see what the doc says,’ he replied. ‘I believe she’s on her way. Any idea how long it’s been there?’

  ‘We’ll know better when the doc’s had a proper look,’ said Ned. ‘But I’d guess a couple of years at least. Not much we can do here until then, other than preserve the scene. I’ll go back and organise a full search of the bungalow and gardens, now you’ve got Mrs Hamilton out of the way.’

  ‘Yes, thanks, Ned. Then, I think, you should get your head down for a bit.’

  ‘Same to you,’ said Ned, but Greg shook his head.

  ‘When I can,’ he said. ‘But time is ticking. I can only hold her for so long!’

  35

  5 August 2020 – morning

  By 9am their small corner of Ormesby was swarming with activity. Crime scene tape fluttered around the bungalow and the boat on its drive. Uniformed officers were keeping the increasing crowd of muttering onlookers at bay. The doc and a mortuary van had arrived, plus a second forensic science van. Driven out of the bungalow by busy specialists, Greg had retreated to his car. To his relief, he found a text from Chris.

  On a callout. All fine. Back later. Let me know you’re OK.

  He texted back.

  All fine here too. Found the kids😄 And a body 😱.

  He looked up at a sharp rap on his windscreen, and got out of the car in a hurry.

  ‘Anything for me, Doc?’ he asked.

  ‘Not much. Given the way it’s wrapped and the state it’s in, I can’t do much until I have it back in the mortuary and can take a proper look. What I can tell you, from a quick look at the skull, is that it’s an adult, probably a woman, and has been there a couple of years at least.’

  ‘So, within the tenure of Mrs Hamilton, but nothing to do with recent events,’ said Greg.

  ‘So it would seem.’

  ‘But it might be we got to the kids in the nick of time. Thanks, Doc.’

  ‘I’ll ring later when I know more,’ she promised. ‘This will be a priority.’

  Greg checked in with the sergeant controlling security, and with Ned, then decided to leave them to it. He got back in his car, nodding a thank you to the officer who lifted the tape to let him past, and headed for home.

  His first phone call was to Chief Superintendent Margaret Tayler, with an update.

  ‘I’ll put out a press release saying the children are safe as soon as I’ve spoken to the grandparents,’ she said. ‘Thank God for some good news. What about the body?’

  ‘Heading for the mortuary as we speak.’

  ‘Can we keep a lid on that news for a while?’ asked Margaret.

  ‘I doubt it, Boss. The locals are already rubbernecking and it’s only a matter of time before the media turn up.’

  ‘Then, for the moment, I’ll say that some unidentified human remains have been found and that investigations are ongoing. And that the resident of the property is assisting us with our enquiries. When will you be in?’

  Greg glanced at the clock on his dashboard. ‘I’m on my way home to freshen up. Say around eleven-thirty. That gives Mrs Hamilton time to get lawyered up, assuming that’s what she wants. Jill is at the hospital with the children, and I’ll check with her in a moment.’

  ‘OK. See you later.’

  His call to Jill went to answerphone, not entirely to his surprise, since she was in a hospital and her phone was probably turned off. She rang him back just as he turned in at the long rutted drive to his house near Acle.

  ‘Hi, Boss,’ she said. ‘The children have been checked over and are fine, if a bit pale and flabby from long confinement. Social services are here and seem to be getting on well with Karen at least. The boy, Jake, seems to have Stockholm syndrome, as well as paranoia about Covid. They’ve been discussing where to take the children, pending any claim by relatives. In more normal times they might have stayed in hospital for a night or so, but given the Covid pressures, everyone wants them out of here asap. I’ve stressed the need for confidentiality, to keep the media off their backs, and social services are currently talking to an experienced foster parent about taking them on.’

  ‘Sounds sensible,’ said Greg, pulling up outside his cottage. ‘If that’s what happens, make sure the foster family have a family liaison officer assigned. And that they understand we will need to talk to the children as soon as possible.’