A Cold Grave: A DCI Danny Flint Book Read online

  A Cold Grave

  A DCI Danny Flint Book

  Trevor Negus

  Revised Edition 2021

  INKUBATOR BOOKS

  www.inkubatorbooks.com

  First published as “A Different Kind of Evil” by Trevor Negus (2018)

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  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Chapter 53

  Chapter 54

  Chapter 55

  Chapter 56

  Chapter 57

  Chapter 58

  Chapter 59

  Chapter 60

  Chapter 61

  Chapter 62

  Chapter 63

  Chapter 64

  Chapter 65

  Chapter 66

  Chapter 67

  Chapter 68

  Chapter 69

  Chapter 70

  Chapter 71

  Chapter 72

  Chapter 73

  Chapter 74

  Chapter 75

  Chapter 76

  Chapter 77

  Chapter 78

  Chapter 79

  Chapter 80

  Chapter 81

  Chapter 82

  Chapter 83

  Chapter 84

  Chapter 85

  Chapter 86

  Chapter 87

  Chapter 88

  Chapter 89

  Chapter 90

  Chapter 91

  Chapter 92

  Chapter 93

  Chapter 94

  Chapter 95

  Chapter 96

  Epilogue

  TAKEN TO DIE

  Inkubator Newsletter

  We hope you enjoyed this book

  Also by Trevor Negus

  Rights Info

  Prologue

  27 March 1986

  Rampton Hospital, Nottinghamshire

  The mournful wail of the Second World War air-raid warning siren rose and fell as the police dog van was driven at speed through the entrance of Rampton Hospital.

  It had been three-quarters of an hour since the murderous psychopath Jimmy Wade and the dangerous paedophile Clive Winstanley had overpowered their guards and escaped from the high-security hospital.

  PC Carl Ryan was an experienced dog handler, and his dog, Blaze, was considered to be one of the best working dogs on the section. The German shepherd was a big dog weighing over forty-three kilos, a brilliant tracker and extremely aggressive. Everything a good land shark should be.

  Carl Ryan was six feet tall, very fit and strong. He needed to be a firm handler for the dog to respond. Together, he and Blaze made a formidable team.

  The van braked to a stop, and as Ryan got out, he glanced up at the sky. There were a few clouds, but it was dry, the sun was out, and there was little wind.

  He grinned: Conditions were virtually perfect for tracking. There was no sign of the heavy rain that had been falling the previous week.

  ‘You took your time, PC Ryan! What kept you?’

  The weary dog handler fixed the police inspector who had addressed him with an icy glare and growled, ‘The bloody accident on the A614 is what kept me, boss! I couldn’t get through; it was total gridlock. Drivers couldn’t move out of the way, even if they’d wanted to. Anyway, I’m here now. What’s the story on the escape?’

  Inspector Fraser looked harassed; he had the look of a man with the weight of the world’s troubles pressing heavily upon him. He gathered himself and quickly went into the details of the escape and the injuries inflicted on the men responsible for guarding the escapees.

  As he got Blaze from the rear of the police van, Ryan asked, ‘Have you got descriptions of the two who have gone over the wall, boss?’

  ‘Jimmy Wade, the so-called Coal Killer, is a white male, short blonde hair.’

  Ryan interrupted the inspector: ‘Boss, we all know what Jimmy Wade looks like; his picture was never out of the papers when he was locked up. What about the other bloke who’s escaped with him?’

  ‘Clive Winstanley. He’s a six-foot-five West Indian who weighs nineteen stone and has long dreadlocks. His four front teeth are all gold crowns. He’s serving a life sentence for the abduction and rape of three schoolgirls in Northamptonshire. He’s been in Rampton for ten years now and is another extremely violent individual. The injuries they’ve caused to the guards are horrendous.’

  ‘Right, sir, we’re ready. I want you to show me exactly where they went over the wire.’

  The dog handler and his now-excited dog followed the inspector to the concrete plant where Wade and Winstanley had overpowered their guards, scaled the wire fence and made good their escape. Other police officers were already milling about in the area. Ryan frowned and let out an audible sigh.

  Seeing the frown and hearing the sigh, Fraser said quickly, ‘Don’t worry, Carl, I’ve kept them away from the area the prisoners scaled the wire. So hopefully your dog will be able to pick up their track.’

  ‘Nice one. That’s the first bit of good news I’ve had since I got this call-out.’

  Carl Ryan then attached the harness to the dog and attached the twenty-foot-long tracking line. The change in Blaze was immediate. The dog immediately went into track mode, and his big head lowered towards the ground.

  Ryan then wrapped the leather lead and check chain around his body, bandolier style, so he still had it to hand, but so it wasn’t in the way. The experienced handler knew he would need the lead and check chain later.

  He then bent down next to the dog and said quietly, ‘Seek ’em. Good boy, Blaze, seek ’em.’

  Immediately, the dog began slowly traversing the area on the other side of the fence.

  Suddenly, Blaze turned and began to move purposefully across the area of open land, moving away from the fence.

  ‘We’re on, sir. I need three officers to follow me – not too close, I don’t want them to distract the dog. If he tracks them down and they’re still together, I’m going to need some backup.’

  Inspector Fraser turned and instructed three of the officers standing nearby to follow the dog handler. He then shouted, ‘Try to keep in touch on the radio, Carl. The signals aren’t the best up here; lots
of black spots.’

  Carl Ryan waved a hand in acknowledgement. The other hand held firmly onto the tracking line as Blaze increased his speed and began to track in earnest.

  A quarter of an hour passed, and the dog was still working hard to follow the scent. The track had taken PC Ryan and his three colleagues over some rough terrain. All the men were scratched from tree branches and brambles. Their boots and trousers were wet after traversing a couple of streams that were swollen because of the recent heavy rains.

  Each time they encountered water, Carl had lifted his dog across the stream and again set the dog to track. Each time Blaze had responded magnificently and within a few minutes had picked up the track.

  The pace was relentless, and all the officers were sweating profusely and pulling in lungfuls of air.

  Another ten minutes passed, when suddenly Blaze stopped dead. The dog began to move first to the left and then to the right.

  Carl Ryan held up his hand, indicating for the three officers following to remain where they were.

  He shouted back to them, ‘It looks like they’ve split up. The dog knows there are two tracks. He will go for the strongest. Just wait back there until we move off again.’

  After a few minutes, the dog stopped, then put his head down and turned to follow the track that led off to the right.

  Ryan shouted back, ‘Let’s go, lads! One of you radio it in: Wade and Winstanley have split up. One track is heading in the general direction of Retford. The one we’re following is heading back towards Woodbeck.’

  There was a shout of acknowledgement from one of the following officers, then all four were again moving at pace, trying to keep up with Blaze.

  The track was obviously strong, as the dog kept increasing the pace.

  The police dog led the officers from the woodland they were moving through out into a large open field that sloped down towards a small lake surrounded by tall bulrushes.

  Once again, Blaze stopped and lifted his huge head. His ears stood up, and he began to sniff the air.

  The experienced dog handler recognised the signs. His dog had now caught the scent of his quarry on the light wind that was blowing towards them. They were getting close.

  Carl bent down and removed the tracking line. Quickly he wound the long line between his wrist and his elbow before clipping it to his belt. He removed the leather lead and choke chain from around his body and held it in his right hand.

  Carl shouted, ‘Find him, boy!’

  The dog immediately raced off, with Carl sprinting behind him.

  Blaze raced to the edge of the bulrushes and began to bark fiercely.

  Once again, Carl signalled for the other officers to remain at a distance. He moved to the side of his dog and placed the check chain around its neck, gripping the leather leash tightly so he could control the dog more easily.

  He patted the dog, encouraging him, saying, ‘Where is he, Blaze? Talk to me, boy.’

  The powerful German shepherd was straining at the leash, snarling and barking. Continually lunging forward towards the bulrushes in front of him.

  Carl still couldn’t see anyone.

  He shouted over the dog’s barking, ‘Get yourself out here now, or I’ll send the dog!’

  Suddenly, the bulrushes parted, and a huge West Indian, with long dreadlocks, emerged from the shallow water at the side of the lake. The man had been lying down in the water next to the bank, hidden by the tall rushes and surface weeds.

  ‘Get out of the water now, Winstanley! Get on the bank and lie face down!’

  Clive Winstanley snarled, ‘Take it easy, man. Control that beast now!’

  Very slowly, he eased himself out of the water and onto the bank, where he stood dripping wet.

  Ignoring the second instruction from Ryan, he made no attempt to lie down.

  Blaze was going frantic, continually barking and leaping towards the huge West Indian. Carl Ryan needed every ounce of his strength to prevent the dog from savaging the man.

  Winstanley stared at the officer and said, ‘If that beast come near me, man, I’ll kill it stone dead. D’ya hear me, Babylon!’

  ‘Do as I tell you! Get on the ground, and you won’t get hurt.’

  Winstanley took a step back, away from Ryan and Blaze, and shouted, ‘Fuck you, man! I’m gone!’

  Suddenly, he was sprinting away from Ryan, running full tilt back towards the village of Woodbeck. The first houses, less than two hundred yards away, were on the other side of the field.

  Ryan shouted after the running man: ‘Stop! Or I’ll release the dog!’

  Winstanley continued to sprint, his head was down, and his arms were pumping. His speed was severely hampered by the wet overalls clinging tightly to his legs.

  Ryan bent down next to Blaze, who was barking fiercely. He held his dog tight, then released the check chain. At the same time, he gave Blaze the attack command, shouting, ‘Pass auf!’

  Blaze stopped barking and flew, like a black-and-tan missile, after the running man. The big dog closed the gap in seconds and leapt from the ground, its jaws clamping onto the left arm of Winstanley. The force of the powerful dog knocked the West Indian completely off his feet.

  The dog released its grip on the man’s arm and clamped its jaws onto Winstanley’s upper inner thigh, next to his groin.

  Ryan and the other three officers sprinted after the dog and arrived less than a minute after Winstanley had been taken down.

  Blaze was still latched onto the man’s inner thigh and was shaking his big head vigorously. Winstanley was now howling in pain and shouted, ‘Get ya beast off me, man!’

  Ryan shouted, ‘Leave!’

  Instantly, Blaze released his bite and let go of Winstanley. The dog moved two yards away from the stricken West Indian and continued to bark fiercely.

  The dog handler shouted above the barking, ‘Down!’

  Blaze lay down on the ground, ears forward, staring at the writhing man.

  Ryan placed the check chain back on the dog. He then held the dog in the same position, so he was snarling just a couple of yards away from Winstanley.

  Ryan turned to his colleagues and shouted above the snarling dog, ‘Get him cuffed. One of you request an ambulance to join us at this location. I reckon this piece of shit is going to need a few stitches!’

  The officers moved in and quickly restrained Winstanley.

  PC Ryan turned to his dog, saying, ‘Good boy, Blaze, good lad!’

  One of the other officers said, ‘Carl, backup’s on the way with transport, and an ambulance is also travelling. What do you want us to do now?’

  ‘Two of you stay with Winstanley. Depending on how long the ambulance is going to be, you might need to stem the bleeding from his thigh.’

  Ryan then turned to the other officer and said, ‘You come with me; we’ll go back to where the pair of them split up. I’ll see if the dog will pick up the other track.’

  Ryan began to jog back the way they had come.

  Blaze had already forgotten about Winstanley and was now focussed on the next task.

  The two officers and the dog reached the point in the woods where the escapees had gone their separate ways. Ryan took Blaze past the area where the track had split. He put the dog back on the tracking line and once again placed the check chain and leash around his body.

  Ryan said quietly next to the dog’s ears, ‘Seek on.’

  The dog set to work and within a few minutes had once again picked up a track. Ryan and his colleague began following the dog through the woodland. Twenty minutes later, Ryan could see they were approaching a hawthorn hedgerow.

  Ryan checked the dog and said loudly, ‘Wait!’

  Obediently, the dog checked and stood stock-still. Beyond the hedgerow was a country lane. Ryan didn’t want his dog to blindly run out into the road and run the risk of being struck by a vehicle. He returned the dog to the check chain and leash before once again winding up the tracking line.

  They both then
emerged onto the country lane. Ryan said, ‘Seek on.’

  Blaze got his head down and again picked up the track. It now ran alongside the edge of the hedgerow at the side of the country lane.

  They followed the track until it came to a layby, near the gated entrance to Haggnook Farm.

  Suddenly, Blaze stopped.

  The dog lifted his head and turned to look back at Ryan.

  The experienced dog handler knew what that look meant. The track had disappeared in the layby. The only explanation was that Wade had got into a vehicle at that point.

  Ryan stooped down. He patted and fussed over his dog: ‘Good boy, Blaze! Well done, buddy.’

  He then stood up and spoke into his personal radio. ‘PC Ryan to Inspector Fraser. Over.’