by Leona Deakin
But the impact never came.
His phone buzzed. He couldn’t look over the edge. He didn’t want to see. He took the phone from his pocket.
Blocked
Be still my beating heart, Mr Jameson. You really came through for your sweetheart. You can look down now.
3:41pm
Jameson braced himself and peered over the wall. An abseiling rope hung loosely just above the ground. Rose-Butler stood beside it, looking up at him. His harness was discarded on the pavement. He gave a small salute then walked calmly away, one hand in the pocket of his designer suit trousers. Sarah’s body was nowhere to be seen.
Jameson leaned further forward. A second rope secured to the base of the pole on his right stretched halfway down the building. At its end was Sarah. The relief made him feel drunk. She was tightly gripping the rope above her head.
‘I’m coming down, babe. Hang on.’ He ran back to the stairwell. Hang on, he’d said. Of course she was going to hang on. She would take the piss out of him later. Not that he would mind one bit.
He opened the stairwell door at the sixth floor. He could see the rope swinging, but not Sarah. He went down another floor. He saw Sarah’s hands around the rope above the perimeter wall. He ran over and grasped her hands in his.
‘Have you fallen for me, Sarah Something?’ He was manic, so frickin’ happy that she was alive that he’d become hysterical.
She looked up. Her cheeks were flushed, tear stains streaking her make-up.
‘Too soon?’ He tested the weight of the rope. She was at a bad angle. She’d be too heavy for him to pull her up. ‘I’m going to get you off this thing, but you’ll need to help me. OK?’
Sarah nodded. Her knuckles were white.
‘I want you to give me one of your hands. Can you do that?’
She slowly unfurled her right hand from the rope and took his outstretched palm.
‘Can you reach the wall with your feet?’
She looked down at her legs dangling below, then back up. She shook her head.
‘I’ve got you, OK? And the harness won’t let you fall any further than this. These nutters wanted to scare you, but they weren’t interested in hurting you. Trust me. Find the wall with your feet and walk them up to meet me. I’ll pull you over.’
‘Marcus …’ Her eyes were panicked; her face said, I can’t do it.
‘Listen to me, Sarah. Take a couple of deep breaths.’ Nothing eased panic better than a good hit of oxygen. ‘You’ve climbed plenty of walls in the past, I’m sure. This is no different. Look at the wall. It’s three or four steps up, tops. I’ll count them with you.’
Sarah lifted her left leg and placed her foot flat against the wall.
‘Lean back against the rope. Don’t worry. I’ve got you.’ He squeezed her hand.
Her right foot slipped against the wall and she jerked backwards. Jameson locked his elbow and held her in place.
‘See, I’ve got you. You’ll be fine. Again,’ he instructed.
This time Sarah placed her right foot firmly against the wall and quickly took three steps towards him with her body perfectly angled against the rope. As soon as her left foot reached the top, Jameson pulled her over. She fell into him and he lifted her down to safety. She grabbed him in a tight hug, her arms firmly around his neck.
‘Let’s get this thing off you,’ he said, when she eventually released him. He undid the waist belt and the buckles on both her leg loops. The harness slid to the floor and Sarah stepped away from it. He placed both his hands on her shoulders and kept his voice low and calm. ‘You’re probably in shock. Just take a deep breath. You’re safe now, Sarah. It’s over. Take a few more deep breaths.’ She did as requested. ‘Are you OK?’
‘Who are these people?’
‘They’re psychopaths.’
He expected Sarah to look shocked, but she just stared at him blankly. ‘Psychopaths?’ she repeated.
‘Not the serial-killing crazies you hear about in the media …’
‘Just the sort that throw people off buildings.’
‘Yep,’ he said. ‘Just those ones.’
‘He told me if I looked at you or said anything, he’d unclip the rope and let me fall for real.’
That explained her quiet bravery.
‘It was all mind games.’
‘But I did look at you and I did speak.’
‘So when you fell, you thought that’s what he’d done? I’m sorry.’
‘It wasn’t your fault,’ she replied.
‘No, but if I’d got here sooner, or stayed away from you in the first place, like Augusta said—’
Sarah stepped back. ‘She told you to stay away from me?’
‘Until this was over. She said they’d come after the people I cared about.’
Her eyes studied him. ‘You told her you care about me?’
‘I didn’t need to. She’s pretty good at reading people.’
Sarah held his gaze until he felt the tension building between them like electricity at the tips of his fingers.
‘What the hell are you two idiots doing?’ said a loud male voice from behind them. Jameson and Sarah turned and saw a furious-looking car-park attendant heading their way. He was big, in his mid-to-late fifties with an impressive Magnum-style moustache. ‘You can’t play silly buggers with your ropes in here. I’ve called the police.’
‘Good,’ said Jameson. ‘Because this wasn’t us.’
The guy looked at the rope and harness on the floor beside them and then raised his eyebrows.
‘Honestly,’ said Sarah. ‘We didn’t do this. This was done to us.’
‘We’ll see what the police say.’ He wouldn’t be letting them go anywhere until the police had arrived.
‘We’re happy to speak to the police.’ Jameson took his phone from his pocket. ‘I just need to make a few calls while we wait.’ He gave the car-park attendant his Don’t mess with me look and it seemed to work.
‘I’ve got Sarah and she’s fine,’ Jameson said when Bloom answered.
‘Were they at Sovereign Square?’
‘Yes. Bloody Rose-Butler had her. We’re waiting for the police now. If I’d not walked away earlier—’
‘They’d have used someone else,’ said Bloom.
She was right. This had taken planning and a good deal of preparation. You can’t abseil off a building on a whim. It needed equipment and accurate measurements.
‘And Jane’s OK?’ he asked.
‘I spoke to her. I said you or Claire would be in touch soon. Do you want me to call Claire?’
‘I’ll do it. And send me Lake’s number. I want to talk to Jane. How did she sound?’
‘She’s an impressive young woman,’ said Bloom. ‘She took it in her stride.’
‘And you? Have you gone off your suicide theory?’
Sarah watched him with intelligent eyes. The shock was beginning to dissipate and she was clearly full of questions.
‘I’m trying to work out how sophisticated this thing is.’
‘Well, let me know when you make a decision,’ he said. ‘Because I’m telling you, I’m done with this crap.’
He hung up and Sarah moved a little nearer. Maybe she didn’t want the car-park attendant to overhear; maybe she simply wanted to be closer. ‘Tell me what’s going on. Now. And I mean everything. Or I’ll … I could tell this nice man and the police that this was all you.’ She waved her hand towards the rope and harness on the floor.
‘There’s no need for threats. I’ll give you a full and frank explanation, but not here.’ He nodded at the car-park attendant. ‘We can’t be sure who’s listening.’ She nodded. ‘I don’t know what I’d have done if something had happened to you.’
Sarah’s mouth twitched at one corner. ‘I’m sure you’d have coped.’
‘I don’t think so.’
Sarah looked away from him and across the car park. ‘True. You’d have had to find someone else to stalk.’
He laughed
. ‘I think you’ll find that I saw you in Fork by coincidence, and coincidentally enjoyed the coffee, so I returned regularly.’
‘And is that why you loitered there most days even after you’d bought your coffee?’
‘Oh God.’ He looked down at the ground. What a loser. He was genuinely embarrassed, mortified even. He’d never before in his life done something like that. And he judged those who did.
Sarah put her arms around his neck. ‘It’s OK. I was flattered.’
He risked a quick look at her. He could smell her sweetly spiced perfume.
‘But if I’d known how much trouble you’d be—’ she continued.
Jameson cut her off with a kiss.
Sarah moved away. ‘Don’t you have calls you should be making?’
Shit.
Claire burst into tears as soon as she heard that Jane was OK. For several minutes, all he could hear were her muffled sobs. Eventually she spoke again. ‘Is she with you?’
‘She’s with her father, Thomas Lake. He lives in Manchester. How far away are you?’
‘I’ve only just got on the train. I’ll be a couple of hours. Why with him?’
‘That’s where they sent her.’
‘And she’s OK? Have you spoken to her?’
‘Augusta has. I’m going to call her now. I’ll tell her you’re on your way and send over the address.’
Claire hesitated. ‘Are you nearer?’
‘I can’t get away. I’m waiting for the police.’
‘And Sarah?’ She sounded genuinely concerned, which was a step up from her earlier fury.
Jameson squeezed Sarah’s hand. ‘I’m with her now. We got her back, too.’
‘So it’s over? What about Lana?’
‘I’ve no doubt Lana will be fine, but it won’t be over until we find the sick bastards responsible.’
‘Damn right,’ said Claire. Sarah nodded at the stairwell where two police officers had just emerged. The car-park attendant was walking towards them, gesturing at the rope and harness.
‘The police are here. I have to go.’
‘What do we tell them?’ said Sarah, as the three men walked their way.
‘The truth.’
63
What had the message said? Bloom scrolled back through the conversation.
Lana Reid is not exactly the calibre we normally require.
Lana certainly seemed to be the most damaged and irresponsible member of the group: the drug use, the alcohol abuse, the sexual promiscuity. Her exact psychopathic profile might reveal more susceptibility to boredom and impulsivity than fearlessness. Bloom looked out on to her mother’s once neatly landscaped, now overgrown garden.
There was one question she’d been asking herself since the very beginning, one that she still didn’t have the answer to. Why would someone recruit psychopaths?
But perhaps that was the wrong question. What if she’d been looking at it from the wrong end of the lens the whole time?
She called Jameson, but he didn’t answer. She hung up without leaving a message. He was probably with the police. She grabbed her coat and handbag, checked the back door was locked and left for the station. She’d head to Leeds and tell Jameson and Sarah her theory in person.
Parents and their children were crowded on to the green in front of the house, enjoying the warm spring evening. She remembered watching Penny cross it on that dreadful evening as she headed back to her empty home. How unlucky Penny had been. To struggle for so long for a child, and then to have Seraphine. She hadn’t heard from Penny in years. Her mother had tried to keep in touch after the suicide, but Penny found it too hard to be around the family she blamed for pushing her daughter towards death. Did Penny have any idea that her daughter might still be alive? That she might have been out there since the age of fourteen, charming others, manipulating them into providing her with a new life?
Her phone rang. She was expecting Jameson, but it was DS Green.
‘Here’s a turn-up for the books,’ Green said, in his usual dry tone. ‘Grayson Taylor has been arrested in Peterborough, of all places. DC Logan has some fancy way to track arrest reports.’
Had whoever was controlling the game let him go? It was unlikely. They hadn’t yet delivered on their promise to return Lana and Stuart. ‘What was he arrested for?’
‘Identity theft and fraud. He was using the details of a young woman he was living with to obtain money by deception. By all accounts she’s some wealthy heiress whose daddy got suspicious.’
‘Is he at the police station?’
‘Peterborough, yeah.’
‘You need to keep him there.’
‘Well, he’ll be interviewed and if he’s guilty he’ll be charged, then bailed to appear in court.’
‘If Grayson’s been arrested, that means he’s failed the test. You need to keep him in custody until his father gets there. Does Geoff Taylor know?’
‘I’ve no idea. Logan called me and I called you.’
‘Call him. Get him to go to Peterborough station immediately. Then speak to the officer in charge and tell them it’s critical they hold Grayson until his father arrives.’
‘I can’t do that. I’ve no authority. They’ll tell me where to get off.’
‘Like I said, if Grayson’s been arrested, he’s failed the test. Those people aren’t seen again. If Grayson leaves that station alone, I guarantee he’ll disappear for good.’
‘Does that matter?’
‘Oh come on, DS Green. He’s a young man with his life ahead of him and a father who loves him very much. He could still have a positive future.’
‘You really believe that crap? He’s a flaming psycho. Better out of the way, in my book.’
Police officers dealt with the worst side of society. It changed their perception. ‘It doesn’t matter whether or not you share my views. We suspect he’ll come to harm without intervention, so we have to act.’
‘What makes you suspect he’ll come to harm?’ asked Green.
‘You really think all one hundred and nine players are still participating in the game? No way. No game, no matter how clever, could hold a psychopath’s attention for over a year. They simply don’t have the patience.’
‘So someone’s doing away with them? That’s a leap. Where’s your evidence?’
It was a legitimate question. But the numbers simply didn’t add up. ‘If you need me to speak to Assistant Chief Constable Barker and get him to make the calls, I can.’
‘No, leave it. I’ll see what I can do. I’ll tell them I need to interview him about a case here in Bristol and head over there myself.’
Mentioning Steve had had the desired effect. ‘Thank you, Phil.’
She hung up and found a seat on the train. She checked her messages – one from Jameson: they were at a pub called The Lock – and then her phone rang again.
‘Dr Bloom? It’s Libby Goodman.’
‘Libby.’
‘I was expecting someone to come over, but—’
‘I’m sorry. Circumstances have made it impossible today.’ Bloom could hear a baby crying in the background.
‘I needed to speak to you about the text I had this morning from Stuart.’
Bloom sat up straighter in her seat, holding the phone closer to her ear. ‘What did it say?’
‘It simply asked for the baby’s name.’
‘Can you read it to me, please, Libby?’
‘“What did you call my baby?” That’s all it said.’
My baby. That made Bloom nervous. Psychopaths were selfish and possessive. ‘And what did you reply?’
An elderly gentleman sat down opposite Bloom. He was wearing cream slacks with a pale-blue shirt and had a coral jumper slung over his shoulders. The uniform of the well-to-do retired.
‘I just said that if he wanted to know he should call me. But he hasn’t. I rang the number a few times, but it just rings out. No voicemail. I didn’t know whether to text again.’
Bloom didn�
�t think Libby, now an exhausted new mum, would benefit from hearing the truth about Stuart over the phone. That was a face-to-face job. ‘How about I call round tomorrow and we can discuss it?’
Libby agreed and said that late morning would work best, between naps and feeds. She hung up. Bloom caught the elderly gentleman’s eye and smiled at him. He averted his gaze. Had he been listening? She looked out of the window at the city buildings drawing closer. The knot of fear in her stomach grew stronger and heavier. She looked at the old man, and again he looked away. She was paranoid. He was lonely, a man of a certain age enjoying a look at a younger woman on a train.
Or he was one of them and he’d been tasked with watching her.
Bloom made a point of leaning out of her seat and craning her neck to look at the doors at each end of the carriage. There was a sign for the toilet behind her. She stood and walked through to the previous carriage. She continued past the toilet cubicle and took a seat facing the way she had come. She scrolled through her phone, keeping an eye on the door. The elderly gentleman never appeared. Of course he didn’t.
When the train arrived at Leeds, Bloom remained seated while everyone else disembarked. On the platform a woman in a red raincoat was struggling to strap a screaming, kicking child into his pushchair. Bloom stood – she should offer to help – but as she moved towards the door a man came to the mother’s aid. Bloom waited in the doorway, watching. It was the elderly gentleman. He smiled warmly at the mother, then stooped a little and stuck his tongue out at the child, who paused his kicking for just long enough for his mother to weave his chubby arms through the straps and click the buckle shut. Her red face glistened with the effort. She smiled at the man, her expression revealing relief, gratitude and just a touch of embarrassment. The elderly gentleman said something to make her laugh and gave her arm a gentle squeeze. Then he straightened and looked directly at Bloom. She kept her face neutral, trying to read him. He was smiling, but his eyes were blank. And then he winked.