Condemned, R.C. Bridgestock [most romantic novels TXT] 📗

to charge him with something at the end of the day, and his long-standing family business will close when he’s dealt with, that’s for sure. One person I am still curious about is James Thomas. Nothing has been flagged up for him. Yet I have a strange feeling that he might be part of a much larger, more sophisticated network.’

‘Could it be that the Dixons have turned their hand to drug dealing for money, as opposed to armed robberies, and that our players, such as Faisal, Thomas and Raglan know each other better than we think, because of that connection?’ said Mike.

‘It’s a possibility. Let’s chase up the cell-site analysis and see if they can enlighten us with any connections via the Dixons’ mobiles. You liaise with the drugs team, and I’ll liaise with the National Crime Agency. The last thing we want to do if there is an ongoing operation that we are unaware of, is to blow any undercover officers’ identity who may be involved, or highlight a police informant’s role. Once we get the update, and can confirm no ongoing interest elsewhere, we will strike as soon as we’re ready.’ Charley’s eyes were bright. ‘Don’t you just love it when a job starts to come together?’

Chapter 34

Charley lay in bed, her thoughts chasing through her mind. The minutes passed, and she tossed and turned, but still she could not fall asleep.

‘If you turn a stone over you never know what you might find,’ Grandpa had told her, usually before revealing a toad or a newt to startle her. The thought made her smile. What else was to be expected turning over a house built of stone?

Raising herself on one elbow, Charley leaned over to the bedside table in the dark, and with fumbling fingers, found her notebook. But where was her pen? She sighed and flopped back onto her pillows, doing her best to hold on to her patience. Getting angry was not going to magic up a pen into her hand to enable her to transfer the thoughts in her head on to paper, so that she could sleep.

She heard the clock strike three. Charley must have then drifted off to sleep, but she slept fitfully as her dreams woke her repeatedly. She was scared by fragmented images of tormented souls fleeing through Crownest’s large, rusty iron gates, as they begged her to listen to their stories and to catch their murderers. ‘God does not hold grudges. God decided it was time for her to leave this Earth,’ wailed a man nearby, who was dressed in the farmers’ clothing of yesteryear, throwing dead bodies, wrapped up in soiled rags tied up with string, into his cart. Where had he appeared from?

Next was an appearance by her grandpa, ‘Grandpa,’ Charley cried out.

‘Trust in God to show you the way,’ the old man said, as a warm feeling filled her body, and Charley awoke abruptly to find a pen at her fingertips, and her notebook containing her previous night’s thoughts. She looked at the paper, as she hadn’t been aware of making the notes or of taking the pen from her bedside table during the night, but she must have done:

Possibility of the Dixons having past history of drugs/dealing?

Crownest burnt intentionally, whilst being used to grow cannabis plants – intense lighting – hydroponics – cause of fire?

Whilst reading the almost illegible scrawl below, she questioned her state of mind. The scribbled words made little sense. Where is she? was one of the last things she had written in capital letters. Who should I be looking for? Anxiety gripped her. Was there another body secreted in the house?

‘No!’ Charley put her head in her hands, ‘Stop!’

Tossing her notebook on the bed, she calmly tried to convince herself that it was nothing more than the ramblings of an overactive mind. ‘I will let the evidence speak for itself,’ she said. Saying the words out loud felt good. If the Dixons had been using Crownest as a cannabis factory there would have been evidential residue, which there wasn’t, and there would have been the well-known smell in the air, which she knew there hadn’t been from her first visit to the site.

At the Incident Room the morning meeting was eventful. The strategy for the Dixons’ arrest was agreed between the two police forces in West Yorkshire and North Yorkshire, and the operational order signed off accordingly by the hierarchy. Things were beginning to move; Charley just wanted the Dixons to do the same.

‘The Police Search Advisor and her team have been notified to search the mobile home, to see what evidence we can find after the suspects’ arrest,’ said Wilkie.

‘When the Dixons’ have been apprehended I want them to be brought here, to Huddersfield cells. There will be no talking to either of them, but please make notes of anything they say en route. When you arrive, I want them to remain separate at all times, so that they don’t have a chance to speak to each other.

Not knowing when the operation would take place, but understanding that it could be imminent, brought about a tension in the office, whilst the day job continued. The atmosphere was electric with expectation. The net was closing in.

After the meeting Charley pulled Mike to one side. ‘If I shoot off, I’ll be on my way to Wetherby Police Station, with Tim Watson, for a rendezvous with North Yorkshire Firearms Inspector, Steve Reynolds. From there, the three of us will be driven to Primrose Pastures, Filey in the command vehicle. My mobile phone will be on silent.’

Half an hour later Charley was sat with Tattie, in the SIO’s office. Charley had been adamant that no one was to disturb them under any circumstances as Tattie desperately needed to obtain signatures on documents that were for the Charley’s immediate attention.

Her mobile phone rang. Without introduction, the observation supervisor spoke. ‘The blue Kawasaki motorbike registered to the Dixons has pulled up alongside their mobile home,