Deadly Terror (Detective Zoe Finch Book 4)

by Rachel McLean

  Zoe knew that being alone with Ian wasn’t wise, given Carl’s investigation. But after his disappearing act yesterday, she wanted to keep an eye on him. And the constables had social media feeds to trawl through. So she’d insisted he come along with her.

  Zoe knocked on the front door and a woman in her fifties with dyed red hair and grey roots opened the door.

  “Yeah?” She had a strong Scottish accent.

  Zoe held up her ID. “DI Finch and DS Osman. We’re trying to identify this woman.” She showed her the picture of the bomber.

  The woman didn’t look at the photo. “Never seen her in my life.”

  “She’s a suspect in a murder inquiry,” Ian said. The woman gave him a look of contempt.

  “You deaf or something? I don’t know her.” She started to push the door closed.

  “Let them in,” said a male voice out of sight behind the door. The woman turned.

  “They’re police,” she said. “Looking for some woman. Nothing to do with us.”

  “No reason we can’t help them with their enquiries.”

  The woman gave Zoe and Ian a long look then pulled the door open. “Come in.”

  “Thank you.”

  Zoe walked past the woman, expecting to see the man waiting for them. The hallway was empty.

  There was a double flight of stairs ahead, one set leading up and one down to a basement. She could hear women’s voices from upstairs.

  She turned back to the woman. “We believe that someone who knows this woman lives here. Are you sure you don’t recognise her?”

  “Positive.” The woman ignored the photo once again. “Wait there.”

  The woman walked down the stairs to the basement, her footsteps heavy. Zoe watched her disappear then looked back at Ian, who was examining the hallway. It was a narrow space, with no natural light and a smell of boiling cabbage mixed with sweat.

  “Doesn’t look like we’re going to get much help here,” Ian said.

  “They let us in, didn’t they? Let’s see what happens.”

  The woman trudged back up the stairs. She sniffed. “Follow me.”

  Zoe gave Ian an I told you so look and followed the woman along a corridor. She took them into a dingy living room lined with threadbare armchairs. A gas fire was turned off in the corner. Zoe shivered.

  “Wait here.” The woman left the room.

  Chapter Seventy-Five

  Trevor sat in the back of the car, holding Sofia’s hand. A man she didn’t recognise was driving. Not Kyle, not Adam.

  He stroked the skin on the back of her hand. “It’s going to be alright,” he said to her. His voice was low.

  She stared back at him, her stomach clenched. She nodded. If she spoke, she’d cry.

  They drove along country lanes, ones she recognised from the times Kyle or Adam had driven her into the city centre. After fifteen minutes they were in the city, houses and shops rising up around them. Sofia gazed out of the window, wondering if she’d be allowed to go shopping again. Her trips into town had been an opportunity to get away from the monotony of the house. But now Trevor didn’t trust her…

  Or maybe he did, if he was taking her to Andreea. Maybe she’d be allowed to bring her sister home. Or at least visit her.

  She looked across at Trevor. He was muttering into his phone, his face creased with anger. He snapped something she didn’t understand and shoved the phone into his lap. He stopped stroking her hand and grabbed it. She tried to pull it away but he only tightened his grip.

  Her throat was tight. She stared at the man in the front. This was no happy reunion. Trevor didn’t trust her, and she shouldn’t trust him.

  So if he wasn’t taking her to Andreea, where was he taking her?

  They turned into a wide road with large houses that made her think of some of the wealthier areas of Bucharest. The houses were broad and tall, but not as smart as Trevor’s mansion in the countryside.

  The car slowed and they turned into a driveway. Trevor put a hand on the door handle. Sofia opened her door and stepped out.

  There were two cars in the drive ahead of them. A blue Volvo and a green Mini. Sofia wondered whose they were.

  The door to the house was shut. It looked the same as it had yesterday, except today the sun was shining. She hoped that was a good sign.

  She heard Trevor’s voice from the car. “Back here, now!”

  She turned.

  He was staring ahead, at the cars. He stepped out of the car, standing between the car and the open door.

  “Is she here?” Sofia asked. “Andreea?”

  “No. Get back in the car.”

  Sofia took a look up at the house. There was movement on the second floor, a window reflecting sunlight as it closed. She swallowed.

  If Andreea wasn’t here, then this place would lead her to her. She walked to the door and turned back to look at Trevor.

  Trevor was inside the car. He’d closed his door. The driver was out of the car, advancing on her. He had his arms in front of him, like he was about to grab her.

  Sofia ran to the door and slammed into it. It opened and she fell through, almost crashing onto the floor.

  The hallway was empty. Sofia regained her balance and ran up the stairs, calling Andreea’s name.

  Chapter Seventy-Six

  Zoe walked to the far end of the room and pulled the curtain aside, rubbing the dirt off her hands onto her jeans immediately afterwards. They were in a corner room, windows facing the side and back of the house. At the back was an overgrown garden, rubbish bags piled up to one side and the concrete of what might once have been a patio cracked and pockmarked.

  “Nice place,” she said. “Can’t imagine they get many tourists.”

  “No.” Ian sat in one of the armchairs, releasing a cloud of dust. “Christ.”

  Zoe wandered round the room, taking in its details. There were two cheap looking pictures on the wall that reminded her of her mum’s house, and a chest of drawers under a window. She pulled out a drawer: it was empty. There was no TV, no sign of anyone spending time in here.

  “This is ridiculous,” she said. They’d been waiting fifteen minutes. She approached the door.

  Her phone rang. “DI Finch.”

  “Zoe, you need to get back here.” It was Lesley. “Detective Superintendent Rogers wants to talk to you again.”

  A stone sank in Zoe’s stomach.

  “And if you’ve got Ian with you, bring him too.”

  She turned to Ian and placed a hand on the phone. “Professional Standards want to talk to us again.”

  He paled. “What about?”

  She removed her hand from the phone. “D’you know what it’s about ma’am?”

  “That’s not the sort of thing you ask Professional Standards, DI Finch. Just get back here. I’ll talk to Dawson, get someone from his team to go to the hotel.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Zoe hung up and went to the door. She turned the handle. “Shit.”

  “What’s up?” Ian said.

  “They’ve locked us in.”

  “Here.” He came up behind her and grabbed the door handle, turning it a couple of times. He put his shoulder to the door and gave it a shove.

  Zoe raised an eyebrow at him. “See? Locked.”

  “Hmm.” He retreated to his chair and sat down, slowly this time.

  Zoe banged on the door. It rattled on its hinges.

  “We could bust it down easily enough, if we wanted to,” Ian said.

  “Well let’s.”

  “Why don’t you try knocking first?”

  She banged on the door again. She put her mouth close to the wood, careful not to make contact, and called out.

  “Hey! Unlock this door!”

  Ian laughed. “You think that’s going to make any difference?”

  She walked to his chair. He picked at his fingernails. “You don’t seem very bothered by this,” she said.

  He shrugged. “Maybe they don’t want
us poking around the place while we wait.”

  “They’ve imprisoned us, Ian. It’s an offence.”

  He shook his head and leaned back, then shifted forward. “Let’s just wait.”

  “No.” Zoe returned to the door and rattled it, hoping the hinges might give up. The door loosened but didn’t give. She pounded on it again. She didn’t call out: no point.

  She heard someone running past.

  “Let us out!” she called. “We’ve been locked in.”

  The footsteps slowed then picked up pace.

  “Stop!” Zoe called. “Let us out!”

  There were more footsteps, coming from along the corridor. It sounded like an avalanche of feet making their way down the stairs, heading out of the building.

  She turned back to Ian. “They’re clearing the place out.”

  “Like they did the Curton Road house.”

  “Except this time it sounds like they’re in a hurry.”

  He looked back at her, his face calm. From upstairs, now, she could hear shouts: confused, afraid and angry.

  “We need to get out of here before they remove any evidence,” she said. “Help me with this bloody door.”

  “Why don’t you just phone for backup?” he asked.

  “Oh yeah,” she replied. “Sorry we can’t come and talk to Professional Standards but we’ve been locked in a room. No chance.”

  “Fair enough.”

  Ian pushed up from his chair and stood beside her. The two of them leaned into the door, pushing as hard as they could.

  Chapter Seventy-Seven

  Sofia buried herself in the cupboard she’d hidden in the day before, listening for signs of Trevor or his driver coming after her.

  After a few minutes, she relaxed. They hadn’t followed her.

  She pushed the door open a crack and listened. She could hear people running, thundering footsteps on the floors above her. Women were shouting in Romanian.

  Sofia’s stomach fluttered. She pushed the door open and slid out. She was in the laundry room, washing machines rumbling away next to her.

  She heard someone run past the door and shrank back. The footsteps didn’t slow or stop.

  Maybe Andreea would be here this time. Maybe Trevor hadn’t been lying about that.

  She opened the door to the corridor, holding her breath. The corridor was quiet. She checked in both directions then ran towards the stairs.

  A woman came out of a door and ran towards her, gesticulating. “Come on!” she said in Romanian. “We have to leave.”

  Sofia followed the woman up the stairs to the ground floor. Women were running down the stairs from the upper floors, tumbling out of the front door. They carried boxes, bin bags, bedding. It was like an evacuation.

  “Where’s the fire?” she asked.

  A woman turned to her. “No fire. Police.”

  “Police?”

  She ran with the women out onto the driveway. Trevor’s car had gone. The two cars she’d seen when she arrived were still there.

  She looked back at the house. Women continued to pour out of the door. Were the children here too? There was no sign of them.

  She grabbed the nearest woman by the arm. “Have you seen seven children? Between ten and twelve years old, four boys and three girls.”

  The woman gave her a hard look. “They’ve gone.”

  “What do you mean, they’ve gone?”

  “She took them, just a few minutes ago.”

  “Who did?”

  The woman turned to another woman. She muttered something to her and the second woman laughed.

  “Crazy woman,” said the second woman, tall with blonde hair piled on top of her face and a bruise on her arm.

  “Yeah, with mad black hair and holes in her tights,” said the first woman.

  Sofia felt tears come to her eyes. “What was her name?”

  “Don’t ask me. Never spoke to her, she was nuts.”

  “Where did she take them?”

  The woman with the bruise leaned in. “There’s a rumour.”

  “What rumour?”

  “She was taking them home. Back to Romania.”

  “That’s stupid,” Sofia said. How would Andreea take a group of seven kids home?

  The woman shrugged. “Just what I heard.”

  “She told me she was going to the airport.” Another woman, wearing a red hoody with a hole in the sleeve, turned to them. “Good luck to her, is what I say. No kids should have to do this.”

  “Do what?” Sofia asked.

  The red hoody woman looked her up and down. “You’re her, aren’t you?”

  “Come on, ladies! All in the vans.” An older woman with dyed red hair was sending the women towards two dark vans that had pulled up on the pavement. The same ones from the airport?

  “Do any of you have any money?” Sofia asked the women. “Do you work here?”

  The woman with the bruise laughed. “You really are her, aren’t you? You need to leave us, before someone hurts you.”

  Sofia frowned. Why would they want to hurt her?

  The woman she’d spoken to yesterday pushed through the crowd. “You’re back. I told you to get lost.”

  “She’s looking for money, Ana-Maria.”

  “She’s got a sense of humour. Get lost, if you know what’s good for you. Go back to your precious boyfriend.”

  “Do you work for him?”

  “Yes, we work for him. On our backs. What d’you think we do?”

  Sofia stared at the woman. She’d suspected Trevor was exploiting the women, but maybe by making them work in a clothes factory or a shop. Not as prostitutes.

  “I’m sorry,” she breathed.

  “Sorry,” barked the woman in the hoody. “Well that makes it alright then.”

  “Oi, get a move on!” the woman by the vans shouted. The women turned towards her.

  “Don’t go with her,” Sofia called after them. “You can get away. You can overpower them.”

  The woman called Ana-Maria turned to her. “They’ve got our passports, iubuta. What are we supposed to do?”

  Chapter Seventy-Eight

  The door fell open on the third attempt. Zoe ran out into the hallway, looking up and down to see who’d locked them in.

  “What’d she do that for?” Ian panted. “It’s not as if we couldn’t have called for help.”

  Zoe ran to the main door. It was closed but not locked. Outside, the driveway was empty, just her and Ian’s cars standing in front of the building.

  In the entrance hall, a sponge bag had been dropped by the door and a chair had been pushed over.

  She considered calling out, then thought better of it. Ian opened a nearby door.

  “There’s an office in here,” he said. “No one about.”

  Zoe followed him in. The office held two shabby desks and three chairs that looked like they might fall apart if she sat on them.

  Ian opened the drawers to one of the desks. “Search through that paperwork,” Zoe said.

  “We don’t have a warrant,” Ian replied.

  “They locked two police officers in while they made off. We have grounds for search, Ian. Just empty the drawers, tell me what you find.”

  He put up his hands. “Fair enough. But where is everyone?”

  Zoe picked up the phone on the desk and got a dial tone. “I thought you might be able to tell me that.”

  Ian looked her in the eye. “No idea, boss.”

  She held his gaze. “I’m going upstairs, see if anyone’s around. You search this floor. If you see the woman who locked us in, arrest her.”

  “I’ll start with this lot first.” He piled files on the desk and opened the next drawer.

  Zoe looked at the stairs. Up or down? She’d heard feet above her head, when they’d been in that sitting room. She took the stairs two at a time, emerging onto a narrow corridor with doors leading off on both sides. At the far end was a fire escape.

  She opened the first door.
It led to a narrow bedroom containing a single bed and a scuffed chest of drawers. The duvet was crumpled and the drawers hung open.

  “Someone left here in a hurry,” she muttered. She pulled on gloves and checked the drawers: not quite empty. A t-shirt had been left in the top one and a pile of knickers in the one below.

  Zoe dropped to the dusty floor and looked under the bed. There was a holdall. She pulled it out: empty.

  She left the room and opened each door in turn. All of the bedrooms were similar: featureless rooms with nothing on the walls and single beds. If they were running a prostitution operation from here, this wasn’t where the customers were coming.

  At the end of the corridor, she pushed the fire exit. It didn’t budge. She leaned into it and pushed again. It was locked.

  She ran downstairs. Ian was working through the ground floor, opening doors and checking rooms. She found him in a dining room.

  “There’s no one here, boss.”

  “Anything useful in the office?”

  “Accounts, records of guests. All looks above board.”

  “It’s a front. Has to be. Keep looking.”

  “I am. Have you called this in? We need Uniform looking for whoever left here.”

  “Apart from that woman, we don’t know who any of them are or what they look like. We didn’t see any vehicles.”

  “There were a lot of footsteps. They must have had a fleet of cars, or a minibus.”

  “I’ll call it in. Can’t see it doing much good.” She grabbed her phone and called the operator at Harborne.

  “Amanda, it’s DI Finch. I’m with DS Osman at an address in Hall Green. Sixteen Jarman Road. A group of people left here in a hurry, and we need to track them down. Can you alert any cars in the area?”

  “Do you have a description?”

  “Mostly women, probably young. Travelling in a group. One of the women was in her fifties, with dyed red hair.”

  “I’ll pass it on.”

  “Thanks.”

  Zoe shook her head at Ian as she hung up. “An unknown number of unknown people, traveling in one or more unknown vehicles. That’s going to get us laughed at.”