Dreams of Fear

Twenty-Seven

It took Vogel and Saslow just under half an hour to drive from Hartland to Northam. By the time they arrived, there was a small group of reporters and photographers outside the Ferguson home, six or seven of them. There was also a TV news team.

‘Good to see the British press corps is still so on the ball,’ muttered Vogel unenthusiastically.

The whole assembled throng surged forward as the two officers climbed out of the car and headed for the front door of All Seasons. The door opened before either of them had knocked or rung the bell. At first it seemed to have done so all on its own as neither Vogel nor Saslow could see anyone in the hallway. Then they realized that Amelia Ferguson, who had presumably been peeping out of a window at what was going on outside, was standing pressed against the wall, half hidden behind the open door.

‘Come in quickly,’ she muttered. ‘Please. They’re awful those people, awful. They’re just vultures.’

Vogel was inclined to agree. On occasions, anyway. But as a policeman of long standing he also believed that a free press was a necessary evil without which a free society could not function as such. And the press did have its uses. Like so many in the police force, he’d fed journalists information over the years and used them in all sorts of ways to assist his enquiries. Sometimes without them quite realising what he was up to.

He and Saslow stepped inside. Mrs Ferguson slammed the door shut behind them, still keeping out of camera shot.

Amelia looked as if she might have been crying. Vogel was mildly surprised. Perhaps the woman did have feelings, after all.

He wished her good evening and told her that he and Saslow would like to speak to her husband.

‘He’s not here,’ replied Mrs Ferguson sharply. She sounded angry and upset. ‘He went off again, and again I’ve no idea where he’s gone. Somebody sent him a text. He read it and he just left. Leaving me with the children, not knowing when he’ll be back or what’s going on... ’ She paused, a thought clearly occurring to her.

‘Look, I don’t want you to think, I mean, I am sure Sam has a good reason for whatever he’s doing. He’s probably just protecting me... He might have gone to the police station... I just don’t know... I don’t want to cause any more trouble... ’

Vogel thought he understood what she was getting at. This was a difficult woman with a naturally arrogant nature, although there wasn’t much sign of that at the moment. But there was little doubt of her loyalty to her husband and to her son, albeit not to her dead daughter-in-law.

‘Mrs Ferguson, I don’t think you are likely to cause much more trouble than has already befallen your family,’ the DCI remarked gently. ‘I think you may be afraid of being disloyal to him, but I urge you to give us all the help you can, for your husband’s sake, possibly for his safety. There has been a disturbing development. We need to speak to Mr Ferguson as a matter of urgency.’

‘But I just told you, I don’t know where he is,’ said Amelia, looking even more distressed.

‘All right, let’s go through everything again, shall we?’ persisted Vogel. ‘Mr Ferguson received a text and then left without any real explanation, is that right?’

‘Yes,’ Amelia agreed with only a little reluctance. ‘That’s what happened.’

‘How long ago was that?’

‘Oh, you only just missed him actually. About ten or fifteen minutes ago.’

‘I see, and he didn’t tell you who the text was from?’

‘No. He told me nothing. He hasn’t told me anything for the best part of two days.’

‘And am I correct to assume you were unable to see the screen of his phone?’

‘That’s correct, yes, I couldn’t see it, he turned his back on me, then put his phone back in his pocket.’

‘All right, now there may be a way of finding out who texted your husband,’ said Vogel, who had a bit of a love affair with modern technology, had been accused of preferring his computer to people, and was known by his colleagues as ‘the geek’.

‘Does Mr Ferguson have an iPad which might be linked to his phone?’

‘He has an iPad,’ replied Amelia. ‘Though he doesn’t use it much nowadays because the phones are so good, and he always has his with him. But I have no idea whether or not it’s linked to his phone. In fact, I didn’t even know that was possible.’

‘Do you know where the iPad is, can you show it to us?’

‘Yes, it’s in the office, in the desk drawer.’

Amelia Ferguson led the way upstairs to a room on the street side clearly used as an office. Everything in it, the Mac desktop, the furniture, the books, looked clean, shiny, and in its place. Vogel was not surprised when Amelia removed the iPad from the first drawer she opened.

He switched it on. No password. He was straight in. And he was quickly able to ascertain that the tablet was linked to a mobile phone.

He opened messages, and there was the text Sam had received earlier.

Vogel felt the back of his neck stiffen as he read it and saw who it was from.

Without comment he passed the iPad to Saslow.

The DS gasped involuntarily as she looked at the screen.

‘G-Gerry Barham?’ she queried haltingly.

‘Must be. The number’s plumbed in the phone too, indicating regular contact. Only this message is timed at 17.43 and we certainly know it can’t be from Gerry, don’t we?’

Saslow was about to respond, but Amelia Ferguson got there first.

‘What are you talking about?’ she asked. ‘What’s Gerry Barham got to do with anything?’

Vogel turned to her, his expression and his voice grave.

‘Mrs Ferguson, I have to tell you that Gerry Barham has been found dead following an incident at sea, and we are treating his death as suspicious.’

He reached to take the iPad from Saslow and passed it to Amelia.

‘As you can see, the text Mr Ferguson received appears to be from Mr Barham asking your husband to meet him urgently. But we know Gerry Barham cannot have sent it, because he was already dead.’

‘I don’t understand... ’ said Amelia.

‘I’m sure you don’t Mrs Ferguson. Do you know this chapel by any chance? Has your husband got any connection with it at all?’

‘I know the chapel, yes. Everybody does. Somebody from London bought it years ago to convert into a house, but they couldn’t get planning permission. They started to build and were stopped halfway through. It’s a bit of an eyesore now. Nothing to do with Sam. I have no idea why he would meet anybody there... ’

‘All right, Mrs Ferguson. Look, I am in little doubt now that your husband is in danger. And to be on the safe side, I’m sending a uniformed team round here. Someone will be with you twenty-four seven until we’ve sorted this. They’ll keep those vultures at bay for you, too. Meanwhile, don’t open the door to anyone—’

Amelia interrupted him.

‘My God,’ she said. ‘Whatever is going on?’

‘Try not to worry, Mrs Ferguson,’ Vogel continued, with a confidence he did not feel. ‘Saslow and I are going to find your husband and bring him home to you.’

Saslow was ahead of him. Literally. She was already on her way down the stairs. Vogel followed hard on her heels.

‘As soon as we’re in the car let’s get Peters on the hands-free, we need her to send backup, and make sure we know exactly where this damned chapel is, too,’ said Vogel. ‘And you know what, Dawn, if we don’t get there smartish, I think we’ll have another death on our hands.’