Sam accessed the Bursleigh Sentinel's archive page once more and found the article Lucy had been looking at. He scrolled down until he came to the list of those sentenced along with Martyn Taylor. The very last name stood out.
Dave Starkey.
Something clicked in Sam's brain. He had spent the last couple of days floundering like a man lost at sea. Now, he felt as though he had been thrown a lifeline.
According to the report, Dave Starkey hadn't been convicted of any charge. He had stood trial with Taylor and his associates, but unlike the rest of those in the dock that day, Starkey had been found not guilty of drug-dealing.
He had walked free.
Sam whistled lowly with incredulity.
Carl Renshaw. Martyn Taylor. Dave Starkey.
The three of them linked together by their murky pasts, forever intertwined by their formative years indulging in criminal activities on the Withdean Estate.
The pieces began to fall in place for Sam.
The vaguely familiar shape fleeing the burning factory.
It had been Dave Starkey.
And the photograph of Starkey's wife. Sam recalled the state of his cottage the day following the fire. How someone had ransacked it looking for paperwork. Only it hadn't been paperwork they were searching for. It had been something smaller.
A photo.
Starkey had seen Sam at the scene, and having dropped the photograph, he must have feared Sam had picked it up. He wasn't to know it had been incinerated along with the rest of the factory. Panicking at the possibility of incriminating evidence being in Sam's possession, Starkey's only option was to get it back. Sam realised it would have been simple for Starkey to track him down. Word would have got out quickly after the fire that a man had been detained, and Starkey would have put two and two together and come up with Sam. All he had to do then was wait outside the police station for Sam to be released and follow him home.
Sam had a horrible thought. He had slept in the garage that night. Had Starkey peeked in through the window pane at him? He may even have tried the door. Had he seen Sam fast asleep and raided the cottage on the off-chance Sam had stashed the photo in there?
Such an act was the work of a desperate man.
A man capable of murder.
The pieces were slotting into place quicker than Sam's mind could absorb them.
The threatening note.
Sam had been asking questions. Starkey had walked in on him interrogating Bill Seymour. The note would have been Starkey's way of trying to ward Sam off before he got any nearer the truth.
Then there was the car.
A white car with a red door. Sam knew he had seen it before. Now it came to him. The staff car park at DR Garments. It was Dave Starkey's car.
It all tied up.
Dave Starkey had murdered Carl. And now he had Lucy.
Sam shut the laptop down, barely noticing the sudden whine of the motor switching off. He tried to imagine how things had panned out all those years ago on the Withdean estate. Martyn Taylor had gone to prison. Dave Starkey had escaped a similar fate by the skin of his teeth. And around the same time, Carl Renshaw had walked away from the Withdean to start a new life. A legitimate, respectable and very successful one at that. Until, for reasons still unknown to Sam, it all went wrong recently.
Carl had set up his business and taken one of his old buddies with him. And, not only had he rescued Dave Starkey from a dead-end life of crime, he had entrusted the man as his lieutenant in his new project.
And how had Starkey repaid this loyalty?
By turning on Carl and murdering him in the most brutal and calculated way.
Why?
Jealousy? Greed?
Sam had no idea, but finding out could possibly give him a clue to where Starkey was holding Lucy right now. He knew one person who might have the answer. A man who had known both Dave Starkey and Carl Renshaw well once upon a time.
But that would mean walking straight back into the lion's den.
Sam had a choice. Talk to Detective Inspector Mason or talk to Martyn Taylor. The police station or the Withdean estate. Neither were attractive propositions, but something had gone awry in Dave Starkey's scheme and that could only spell trouble for Lucy.
Sam needed to make a snap decision.
***
He pushed open the double doors, walked into Bursleigh police station and headed over to the reception desk. His decision had been swayed by the manpower the authorities could offer, outweighing the fact their involvement could antagonise Starkey further. Anyway, talking to Martyn Taylor was a long shot. There was no guarantee Taylor would open up even if Sam got near enough to have words with him.
The officer at the desk showed little urgency when Sam asked to see DI Mason.
'I think he's busy right now,' Sam was told.
'Well, maybe he'll find some time when he knows I've got information about the death of Carl Renshaw.'
That got a response. The officer immediately shook off his lethargy, told Sam to wait a moment and disappeared around the back. Sam didn't have any idea how Mason was going to react when he told the detective of recent developments. If he ran true to form, then Sam's revelations about Dave Starkey and Lucy wouldn't be believed. No matter. Sam wasn't going to be deterred. Honesty was his only option now.
Unfortunately, his prediction about Detective Inspector Mason was spot on. The policeman looked harried even as he came out to the desk. His mood improved little as he listened to Sam's theory on Dave Starkey and his part in the murder of Carl Renshaw. By the time Sam had finished telling him about Lucy's abduction, Mason was making little effort to hide his irritation.
'Well, I must say, Sam, you have got one very vivid imagination,' he said spitefully. 'Or is this another tall story to shift the spotlight away from you?'
Sam looked at the sneer on Mason's face. He wanted to wipe that look away so badly.
'What about everything I've just told you? What about-'
'What you've told me?' cried Mason with disdain. 'Don't make me laugh. A dark figure that resembles Dave Starkey? A photo of his you claim to have found in the place he works? A car that looks like his? None of it-'
'Okay,' snapped Sam. 'But what about Lucy? She's in danger right now.'
Mason rolled his eyes impatiently.
'So you say, but, by your own admission, she's a grown woman who got into a car of her own accord. That hardly sounds like someone being forced against their will, does it?'
'What is wrong with you?' yelled Sam, losing his composure. All he could think of was Lucy, alone with some madman, probably scared out of her life. 'Why are you being so pig-headed?'
'And why are you wasting my time with fairytales?' retorted Mason, raising his own voice. 'Now, go away and leave the police work to the proper people!'
A red mist descended over Sam. He leaned over to grab at Mason.
'Why, you-'
A deep, growling voice interrupted the argument.
'Now, gentlemen...'
Both Sam and Mason looked at the newcomer.
DCI Carter.
'Detective Inspector Mason, why don't you leave this to me?'
Mason gave Carter a clear look of displeasure. Sam could see anger in Mason's eyes. The detective had been willing Sam to lose his patience and strike out. Any opportunity to throw him in a cell and take him down a peg or two. Sam still couldn't understand why Mason was being so vindictive towards him.
Mason huffed petulantly, threw Sam a disparaging look and stormed off.
But Sam wasn't watching Mason anymore. He was studying Carter. The DCI had a wry smile on his face. Almost as though he was relishing this ongoing spat between his colleague and Sam. It was another anomaly Sam couldn't get a handle on.
'So, you're convinced Dave Starkey is behind all this, are you?' Carter asked him.
Sam nodded. He realised Carter must have been standing out of sight for the last few minutes, listening to his conversation with Mason. The man was like a hawk. Always lurking. Taking everything in. Waiting to swoop.
'And you think he's got your friend, Lucy Pargeter?'
Sam wondered why Carter was asking when he already knew the answers. Perhaps he wanted to ask face-to-face so he could judge Sam's reaction for himself. Sam couldn't grumble. At least Carter was taking an interest. It was a marked improvement on Mason's attitude.
'I'm almost certain he's holding Lucy,' confirmed Sam. 'In fact, the more I think about it, the more sure I am.'
He waited for Carter's reply, hopeful the Detective Chief Inspector would use his authority to act on the information and start hunting down Starkey. Maybe even take it upon himself to get involved.
'Okay,' murmured Carter, nodding slowly, deep in thought.
'Okay?' repeated Sam incredulously. 'Is that all you've got to say? Okay?'
'Well, what do you want me to say?' asked Carter easily, his placid expression giving Sam no clue as to what he was thinking. 'I've told you this isn't my case.'
Sam was speechless. Anger and frustration began to boil up inside him once again. Whereas Mason annoyed him with his myopic view of events, Carter's behaviour now infuriated him even more. An influential man in the force taking an interest in matters but not doing anything to help. Why couldn't he just put his considerable powers and undoubted common sense to use?
'Why don't you fill in a missing persons report?' suggested Carter. 'Get the ball rolling.'
Sam thought he was hearing things. A missing persons report? It was the final straw for him.
'Forget it,' he spat out with disgust. 'I'll track down Starkey myself.'
He turned to walk out of the station but something was nagging away at him. He swung back around and stared at Carter.
'What am I missing here, Detective Chief Inspector?' he asked. 'Why are you so curious about this case?'
Carter said nothing in reply. He simply stared back at Sam.
'What is it you're up to, Mr Carter?'
DCI Carter remained unmoved.
Standing on the steps outside the police station, Sam told himself to stay positive. However, it was getting more and more difficult to do so. He was running out of options. He had no leads to chase, only a horrible sense time was running out for Lucy.
His phone rang.
At last.
So eager was Sam to answer it, he didn't think to look at the screen first.
'You took your time calling back,' he said into the phone.
But it wasn't Dave Starkey. To Sam's crushing disappointment, the voice resonated with a strong Midlands twang.
'Well, that's a charming way to talk to an old friend, isn't it?'
Richie.
Sam hadn't expected to hear from him again. He told Richie as much.
'What can I say, Sam? I made a mistake. I doubted you and I'm sorry.'
Sam was taken aback by this rapid turnaround. Richie had sounded pretty sure of his judgement the last time they talked.
'Why the change of heart?'
Richie sounded sheepish on the other end of the line.
'I got carried away by what other people were saying,' he explained with a heavy sigh. 'People telling me you'd lost the plot over the last couple of years. But then I got to thinking of all the time we spent working together. The way I trusted you with my life. I couldn't just forget all-'
'It's okay, Richie,' said Sam quickly. 'I appreciate the call. I really do. But things have got out of hand here and I need to sort them out fast.'
He gave his old friend a brief summary of recent events.
'Well, that's another reason for the call,' said Richie excitedly. 'Once I stopped acting like an idiot, I made a few phone calls on your behalf and found out something interesting about the investigating officer up there-'
'DI Mason?'
'Yeah, that's the one.'
'What about him? I'd love to know why he's got such a problem-'
'Sam, he was friends with Walters.'
Richie's words hit Sam like a bolt out the blue. Mason and Walters had been friends? At least that explained all the animosity. Mason would have known of Walters' suicide, and when he realised who he had in the police station, only one thing came to mind.
Revenge.
'Apparently, they hit it off after meeting on a training course a few years ago,' explained Richie. 'They kept in touch right up to the day Walters topped himself.'
Sam blew out his cheeks in amazement.
'And then I land in his lap. He takes one look in my file and that's my fate sealed. I'm already prime suspect and this is his chance-'
'To get his own back for his dead mate,' chipped in Richie. 'You stood no chance with him about, bud. It's a good thing the evidence has cleared you, or he'd still be making you sweat-'
'What did you say?'
'The lab results have come back from the fire. You're in the clear.'
Sam nearly dropped the phone in disbelief. He had only been talking to Mason a few minutes ago.
'Oh, no,' said Richie, sensing Sam's shock. 'Don't tell me he hasn't told you yet.'
'No, he hasn't,' responded Sam bitterly. 'How long ago did they find out?'
'Well, somebody gave me a discreet call an hour ago.'
An hour ago? Sam felt like marching straight back into the station and wringing Mason's neck. Then he thought of Lucy again. He had to put his anger to one side. Ranting and raving at Mason wouldn't help find her.
Richie interrupted his thoughts.
'Is there anything else I can do to help?' he asked.
Anything to help? Sam would say so.
'Yes, you can, Richie. You can indeed...'