Chapter Thirty-Nine

“Lawrence? Good. You need to get back to the station. There’s someone you need to speak to, and it can’t wait.”

Thelma put the telephone down and stared at the woman sitting across from her. It wasn’t unusual for the station to get visitors. Often someone would be strolling by the perimeter, and they’d see nothing but female pilots milling around. They’d then sometimes turn up at the guardroom asking questions. Most heeded the friendly warning signs Mind your own business, or This is a military facility. Please go about your business. The woman before Thelma in the guardroom, eyeing the cup of tea she’d been given with suspicion, didn’t fit into that category.

“Mrs. Darcie Palmer,” Thelma read from the ID card she’d insisted the woman hand over to her.

“As I’ve already told you,” the tiny woman stated from between clenched teeth, her feet twitching in irritation as they dangled off the end of her seat.

Thelma waved a hand to the guard commander, who’d taken it upon himself to stand beside the exit once he knew something strange was occurring. Together with the letter, the man knew something was going on, and though she would prefer not to have anyone else find out anything about what was happening with Betty, he’d insisted upon remaining. Thelma was quite confident she could handle a woman who was not only at least twenty years older than she but at least a foot shorter, but to send him away would be to invite suspicion.

“So why are you here?”

The woman let out a sigh of irritation and crossed her arms. “As I’ve already told him”—she jerked her head in the direction of the guard commander, who rolled his eyes—“I’m not saying a thing until I speak to a policeman.”

Thelma leant forward in her seat, narrowed her eyes, and locked her gaze upon this woman she’d already taken a rapid dislike to. “Then let me tell you something,” she said in a voice low enough Darcie had to lean forward to hear her, so only the two of them would hear. “Betty is a very, very good friend of mine, and if something happens to her, the police will be the least of your worries.”

The blood drained from the woman’s face, but she stayed haughty and tight-lipped.

Thelma was just deciding if she could accidentally slap the smug expression from her face when the door flew open and Lawrence appeared. Evidently he’d run the whole way there, as he was out of breath.

“Sorry I didn’t get here sooner,” he gasped out. “I phoned for Terry to meet us here. He’ll be along as soon as he can.”

Thelma got up from her seat, allowing Lawrence to take her place. He smiled in thanks.

“I gather you would only talk to the police,” he began, accepting the ID card from Thelma, who took up a position a little way behind the policeman. “I am Detective Inspector Lawrence. You are”—he made a small show of consulting the card again—“Mrs. Darcie Palmer.”

“Betty’s mother,” she said, raising her head.

“Hmph,” Thelma snorted in disdain.

“If you please,” Lawrence said over his shoulder before asking the guard commander to wait outside. Once they were alone, Lawrence came straight to the point. “What’s so important that you would only speak to me?”

“I won’t say a word in front of her,” Mrs. Palmer spat out, her true character bursting out.

“Mrs. Palmer,” Lawrence said, after taking a few deep, steadying breaths. “I suggest you rein in your temper. You are a strong suspect in the kidnap of your daughter.” His emphasis was rewarded by the woman snapping back an undoubted retort. “Now, tell me why you brought me here, or I shall, at the very least, lock you up for wasting police time.”

Thelma came and leant on Lawrence’s shoulder, something he did his best to ignore.

Someone knocked at the door, and before anyone could say anything, in came the willowy frame of Sergeant Terry Banks, who took in the situation at a glance and took up his station beside the door.

“Mrs. Palmer?” Lawrence prodded.

Seeing she had no other choice, she informed them, “I can lead you to Betty, if you agree to set no charges against me.”

“Not a chance!” Thelma couldn’t stop her mouth from saying.

“First Officer, please keep quiet,” Lawrence told her, knowing he’d be in trouble with his girlfriend later for ordering Thelma around. However, the suspect before them didn’t need to be aware of that. “No deal,” he informed Mrs. Palmer. “You’ve just admitted to being party to the kidnapping, so you are in no position to be making demands, nor trying to make deals. If you cooperate, and your information proves correct, well, then I’ll see what I can do.”

Lawrence said no more, giving Mrs. Palmer time to think things over, to make up her mind. After a few minutes, her head dropped and she began to speak.

“We own or, used to own, a small cottage not far from here in the village of Lyndhurst. That’s where we—they—are keeping her.”

Lawrence passed her a paper and pen. “Write down the address.”

“You sure they’ll still be there?” Terry asked from the doorway.

“I’d have moved somewhere else as soon as you ran away, if I were them,” Thelma couldn’t keep from putting in.

“A very good point,” Lawrence agreed, earning himself a squeeze on his shoulder from Thelma.

As she wrote, Mrs. Palmer didn’t stop, but she did let out a bitter laugh. “I think you give George too much credit.” She pushed the paper back to the policeman. “No, it won’t have crossed his mind to move her to anywhere else.”

Lawrence waved his sergeant over and handed him the address. “Do you know where this is?”

Terry looked at the paper and nodded. “I do. It’s only about thirty-odd minutes from here.”

“Right.” Lawrence got to his feet. “Terry, call in the guard commander, and then lock Mrs. Palmer in one of these cells for now. As acting Commander, First Officer, with your permission?”

At those words, the little woman hopped off her seat and opened her mouth. “I object! I am not a common criminal! Do you have any idea who my husband is?”

Thelma burst out laughing, and she could see it was only by remembering he was a policeman that Lawrence refrained from joining her. The naïve woman had obviously reverted to default behavior when confronted with a situation not to her liking.

Sergeant Banks placed a hand on the woman’s shoulder as the guard commander entered the room. “Would you open a cell for me, please?” Terry asked.

Just before the cell door was closed, Thelma asked the question which had been bothering her. She could no longer keep it in. “Mrs. Palmer, if your husband is cornered, would he…hurt Betty?”

Turning, Darcie answered, “I hope not.”

****

Thelma was escorting the two policemen out of the guard room when she became aware of three people running toward the station. Well, three people and a dog, to be precise. “Ruth?” she said under her breath, or so she thought.

Lawrence came and stood beside her, whilst Terry got in the car and started it up. “What do you think they want?”

They all got a clue as the group neared. Ruth was accompanied not only by the station’s unofficial mascot, Bobby, the spaniel, but by two men in the khaki uniform of the Home Guard. Not only that, but both Walter and Sergeant Matthew Green, Ruth’s new boyfriend, were toting rifles on their backs.

“We thought we could be of help,” Mathew announced as they skidded to a halt.

“We came prepared,” Walter announced, taking his rifle off his back.

“So I see,” Lawrence answered and turned his attention to Ruth. “Would you care to tell me exactly how you knew we were here, aunty dear?”

Ruth directed her gaze over his shoulder, where Thelma was doing her best to merge into the background, from whence she hesitantly said, “Well, er, you know I asked you two to hold on whilst I went back into the guardroom?” The two policemen both nodded, though neither had an expression of appreciation on their faces. “I may have telephoned Ruth and told her what had happened.”

“And this?” Terry waved his hands at the rifles.

Walter and Matthew both exchanged glances and then shrugged as Walter told them, “We thought some firepower could persuade them to give up without a fight.”

Lawrence looked at his number two. “Did you think to sign out a revolver?” Terry shook his head, and Lawrence twitched aside his coat. “Me either.”

“It’s not a bad idea, boss,” Terry reluctantly suggested.

Knowing time was of the essence, Lawrence came to a decision. “Right, you two. Listen, and listen closely. Until this is over, you are under both my command and Terry’s as my second in command. That means you will not do anything unless we tell you. You will certainly not open fire unless we command you to.”

The two Home Guards both exchanged looks before nodding in agreement.

“Good. Now get into the car.”

“Do you want to take Bobby along?” Ruth asked quickly, looking down at where Bobby sat on her feet to keep warm.

Lawrence smiled. “A nice thought, but no thanks.”

Glancing to where Thelma stood, Lawrence blew her a kiss, and then they were gone. They didn’t get very far, as Terry slammed on the brakes when they came to the turning which led along the riverbank. “Do you see what I see?”

Shaking his head in disbelief, Lawrence got out of the car, then popped part way back in to say, “Everyone stay where you are. This won’t take long,” before slamming the door shut. A few paces on, he stopped beside the driver of the vehicle blocking their path. “And what do you think you’re doing?”

“Coming along as backup,” Jane declared seriously.

Lawrence shook his head again, not believing what he was seeing. Sitting next to Jane in her Jeep was Celia, who had her hand resting on the gear lever. Behind them, shivering yet with a determined expression upon her face, sat Penny.

With every minute possibly vital, Lawrence decided he couldn’t waste any more time. “Jane, I know your heart’s in the right place, but please, all of you, go home. You shouldn’t be out at all, Penny. You know what Grace said about getting an infection.”

“She gave me some penicillin,” Penny protested. “I’ll be all right.”

“And we’ll take care of each other,” Jane put in.

Lawrence ticked off on his fingers, “One, that’s a new drug, so don’t put all your trust in it. Two, by the way you’re cradling your arm, Jane, I’d say you’ve already over-strained it when you drove this contraption back from the base. And three, what do you two think you’re doing involving a youngster like Celia in such a half-baked scheme?”

“I’m fourteen!” Celia protested.

“My point exactly.” Lawrence only just stopped himself from snapping. “Now, please, back up a little. We have to get going.”

With a sigh, Jane put the Jeep into reverse, unable to hide a wince of pain from Lawrence’s searching gaze.

****

Shivering, Betty pulled the tarpaulin tighter around her shoulders and, once again, cursed her luck. She’d spent most of the night and small hours flitting from hiding place to hiding place, Mr. Palmer and the big thug never seeming more than a few steps behind. Knowing she’d soon be caught if she tried to make a run down the road, because of the noise her shoes would make, she’d thought about going through the woods which surrounded the village, but that would have been a surefire way to turn an ankle, and then she’d really be helpless. She hadn’t even managed to find a bicycle.

Funny how things turn out, she mused, trying to put her leg at a more comfortable angle. In the act of turning back when she found herself on the edge of the forest, she’d tripped over the handle of a garden roller. Unable to support her own weight on the now-injured foot, she’d lain on the freezing cold grass for some anxious minutes, barely daring to breathe, expecting to be pounced upon at any minute by her would-be captors. Eventually, she’d crawled down the garden to find the back door of the cottage where she’d landed was locked up. Deciding not to risk knocking on the door or windows, she’d tried a shed which had sight of the road, and had some luck.

Now, first light had come and was long gone, and her ankle had blown up like a balloon. Betty didn’t know if she’d broken it or if it was a very bad sprain, she didn’t even know if it would support her weight, though she knew the time would come when she’d find out. At regular-ish intervals, she risked peeking out of the shed, but she saw no one, neither friend nor foe. The cottage appeared to be deserted.

Her watch was broken, and she had no idea what the time could be. She was cold, hungry, and in pain, with no means of escape. All she could do was wait and hope she was found by friends first.