Free Tunnels 03, Freefall by Roderick Gordon, Brian Williams Page A

station, someone finally managed to track down DI Blakemore. He rang back and Mrs. Burrows had a lengthy conversation with him, explaining what she'd just learnt. In thirty minutes flat he turned up with a second DI from the local police station, and a team of forensic officers.
    "Looks like someone's already started to strip this place apart," were his first words as he entered the hallway and surveyed the scattered letters and newspapers on the carpet.
    "Oh, bloody brilliant," one of the forensic officers behind him muttered resentfully. "We've got a hoarder type here, lads," he said to his colleagues. "Better call your wives and tell them you're going to be working late."
    In seconds, the police were searching everywhere, and Mrs. Burrows and her sister were carted off to the local station, where they were interviewed separately and both had to give statements.
    It wasn't until late Sunday morning that they were brought back to the flat in a squad car. Quite a few of Auntie Jean's possessions had been bagged up and removed. The flat, although still in a state of disarray, actually looked considerably tidier than it had done before the forensic team had begun to search it. At least the policemen had organized all the old newspapers and letters into piles, and taken away the bin bags in the kitchen to check through their contents. Fingerprint powder had been left on most of the surfaces throughout the flat, although one would be hard pushed to tell it from the dust that had been there before.
    The two sisters, not bothering to remove their coats, flopped in the armchairs in the sitting room. They both looked exhausted.
    "I'm dying for a gasper," Auntie Jean announced, and finding a packet close by, pulled out a cigarette and lit it. "Ah, that's better," she said after a couple of heavy puffs. With the cigarette clenched between her lips, she cast about until she found the TV remote. "Ere you go," she said as she handed it to Mrs. Burrows, who took it automatically from her. "Watch whatever you like."
    Mrs. Burrows' finger twitched over the buttons, but she didn't press any of them. "Now I've lost not only my husband, but both my children. And the police think I'm responsible. They think I've done it."
    Auntie Jean stuck out her chin as a cloud of smoke all but hid her face. "They can't think--"
    "Oh, they do all right, Jean," Mrs. Burrows interrupted her loudly. "They asked me for a full confession. One of them even used the words 'spill the beans'. They've got some looney-tunes theory that my 'accomplices' kidnapped Will, but he came here after he managed to slip away from them. And don't ask me what they think I've done with Roger and Rebecca, or Chester. I reckon they've got me down as Highfield's first serial killer!"
    Auntie Jean tried to grunt with indignation, but it triggered a rather unpleasant hacking cough.
    "Are you certain Will didn't mention anything at all about where he'd been?" Mrs. Burrows quizzed her after she'd managed to stop coughing.
    "No, not a dicky bird. But wherever it was, I 'ad the feeling 'e was going back there," Auntie Jean said. "And 'e was taking the little lad, 'is cousin Cal, wiv 'im."
    "I told you -- there is no one on Roger's side of the family called Cal."
    Auntie Jean blinked wearily. "Whatever you say," she mumbled. "I remember Cal didn't like it 'ere much -- 'e really wanted to get down south again."
    "Down south?" Mrs. Burrows repeated thoughtfully. "And you said this younger boy was the spitting image of Will?"
    Auntie Jean nodded. "Peas in a pod."
    Mrs. Burrows stared at the blank television screen as her mind swam with various explanations. "So, if the mystery woman who turned up at Humphrey House was Will's real mother, what if this other boy was his brother? " she posed.
    Auntie Jean raised her eyebrow. "'Is brother?"
    "Yes, why not?" Mrs. Burrows replied. "It's not out of the question. And you said Will was furious with Rebecca?"
    "Oh, yes," Auntie Jean said, ejecting a spout