by M. A. Hunter
‘I don’t know. Maybe? I don’t think we should go traipsing to Swanage without hearing from him though.’
Emma immediately regretted the joy this statement brought her, and silently chastised herself. This wasn’t about her avoiding the crummy bedsit; this riot was a serious incident, likely affecting more than just her dad. Even if he hadn’t been there when things had started, many people he knew probably were involved in what was happening.
‘Is there anyone we can phone to check?’ Emma asked. ‘Can we phone the prison directly? Would they tell us?’
Bronwyn considered the question. ‘I don’t know. Maybe. I’m not sure what the number is.’
Emma steered her towards the dust-covered computer in the corner of the room. ‘You could google it.’
John had bought the computer second-hand so that Emma could use it for her studies. Bronwyn hadn’t been keen on the idea, saying, ‘The internet is a dangerous place. You never know who is watching.’
She stared at the keyboard on the desk, but the look of anxious concern said more about her inability to operate the device than it did about any fear she had about the dangers of online stalking.
‘I’ll do it,’ Emma said, motioning her away, and dropping onto the wobbly chair in front of the screen. She loaded up a search window before tying in the prison’s name. The first results generated were for the BBC News website, and an article talking about the very thing they were watching. Checking that her mum’s eyes were once again back on the television set, Emma clicked on the link and began to read. Why wait to hear someone tell her what had happened when she could read it for herself?
According to the article, which was somewhat limited in factual detail, authorities had been alerted to the incident shortly after 5 p.m., when three to five inmates made their move. Prison guards managed to get four members of the public out of the visitors’ centre before the inmates took control, but three prison guards and two visitors became trapped inside with the inmates. Tables and chairs were moved in front of the two exits to the hub centre, and officers had to remain where they were due to the threat to the lives of the guards and visitors inside. News of the incident quickly spread to the rest of the prison, and although there was some disruption within, lockdown was sanctioned and the main body of the prison was brought under control. The prison governor was now in dialogue with the rioters, with a view to protecting those trapped inside in as peaceful a manner as possible.
The article continued by citing concerns presented by prison governing bodies previously, suggesting that reforms were needed at HMP Portland following a similar incident in the Youth Offender section of the prison three years earlier. That incident didn’t involve danger to any members of the public, but questions had been raised as to whether the category of the prison should be reviewed. Despite calls for further reform, no action had been taken, as a result of cuts to funding.
‘Have you found the number yet?’ Emma’s mum asked, and Emma quickly exited the BBC site and located the contact details, scribbling them on a scrap of paper, and handing them to her mum, who dialled the number and placed the phone to her ear, moving over to the window where the signal was strongest.
Emma turned up the volume of the television, but the news anchor moved to a different story, so Emma switched off the set.
Bronwyn lowered the phone, and cancelled the call. ‘It’s engaged,’ she said, the anxiety making her voice come out in shuddered breaths. She redialled, but shook her head sorrowfully. ‘They’re probably receiving lots of calls from worried families,’ she acknowledged, rejoining Emma on the sofa. ‘I’m sure they’d have phoned if there was anything for us to be worried about,’ she added, though it did little to offer the reassurance that was intended for her daughter’s wellbeing.
It was the most concern Emma’s mum had shown for her dad in a long time, and it stirred a memory in the back of Emma’s head, a time shortly before Anna’s disappearance, but as Emma’s mind tried to pick at the memory it faded just as quickly. Even so, if her mum was this worried about him, didn’t that mean she still cared for him? And if she cared for him, wasn’t there a chance that she still loved him? If her life were one of those TV movies her mum loved to watch so much then an incident like this could be the spark to reignite the flame of passion. Or maybe she was just allowing her imagination to get the better of her.
‘Yes, I’m sure everything is all right,’ her mum continued, more for herself than for Emma. ‘I’m sure he specifically said he was having his day off on Friday this week.’
A fresh thought pierced Emma’s brain, and slowly spread like a web: what if he was one of the guards trapped inside the visitors’ centre? She’d been dreading going to the bedsit today, but she hadn’t considered the prospect of not seeing him again. Part of the reason she’d been so against going was because of the argument they’d had last month when she’d dared to criticise his drinking and poor diet. She’d told him he needed to start taking better care of himself, and he’d flown off the handle at her. He wasn’t a dad who shouted, but his face had turned a deep shade of purple and he hadn’t held back. He’d hugged her at the bus stop when Bronwyn had arrived, but it had lacked his usual warmth.
What if she didn’t get the chance to tell him she was sorry and that the only reason she’d criticised him was because she was worried about him? What if her last words to him had been spoken in anger?
‘Can you try and phone the prison again?’ Emma asked, trying to keep the trepidation from her own voice. ‘If he isn’t there, I’d hate for us to be late and leave him waiting, not knowing where we are. That wouldn’t be fair on Dad, would it?’
Bronwyn reached for her phone, jumping when the screen lit up as it received a call from a withheld number. Snatching up the phone, she moved back to the window.
‘H-hello? Yes, this is Bronwyn Hunter… I see… Yes, we’ve just been watching it on the news… I didn’t think he was supposed to be working today… Oh, I didn’t realise… He’s what…?’
Emma watched on, trying not to think about all the terrible things her mum could be listening to, but was unable to keep the tears from pooling in her eyes.
Bronwyn ended the call and slowly turned to face Emma, her own eyes betraying her emotions. ‘That was one of your dad’s colleagues at the prison. It seems he was there when the incident broke out. It’s okay, he’s alive, but they’ve taken him to the hospital as a precaution. Grab your things and we can go there now to see him.’
Emma didn’t need telling twice, standing and grabbing her bag as she moved to the door. ‘Dad always said his job was dangerous,’ she commented as they stepped out. ‘I wish he could find something safer.’
Her mum paused as she locked the door. ‘That was the strange thing. When I told the woman I didn’t think he was working today, she said he wasn’t. Apparently he was there visiting one of the prisoners.’
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Now
Alton, Hampshire
I’m relieved that Daisy looks in perfect health. She’s leaning against the side of the van, but there’s a laptop screen she’s working at, connected to a mobile phone for internet access. She briefly glances up from the screen as she feels our eyes on her.
‘Hi,’ she says, offering a simple nod before returning her gaze to the screen.
I don’t know how I feel to learn that Oakley was right and that my sister has indeed kidnapped Daisy. At first I’d wanted to believe it was just another part of the smear campaign set up against Anna, but seeing Daisy in the flesh puts paid to that. And if I was wrong about her abducting Daisy, what else have I been wrong about? It’s all very well Anna saying that she didn’t kill Tomlinson, but she has yet to offer any explanation of what she was doing at his house, or how exactly he died. I so desperately want to trust what my sister is telling me, but I need to try and cling to some kind of objectivity in all of this.
‘Daisy, this is Emma Hunter – the woman I told you about – and her friend�
� Sorry, what was your name again?’
Rachel clears her throat. ‘Rachel Leeming. I’m a journalist. Let me tell your story, Anna, and there might just be a way out of all this mess.’
Anna turns up her nose at the suggestion. ‘I’m not looking for a way out of anything. I’m on a mission to cripple the bastards responsible for killing Precious and Chez, and I’m not going to let anybody stop me.’
I look past Anna into the van. ‘Daisy? Are you okay?’
She looks up from the screen and frowns as if I’m speaking in a foreign language. ‘What? Yes, I’m fine, or at least I would be if I could figure out the bloody password for this thing.’ She looks to Anna. ‘He must have changed it after we took off.’
Anna clambers into the van and peers at the screen. ‘Can you break it? We need to get access to those files.’
‘I only get three attempts before it locks me out for good. Each time a wrong entry is recorded it will trigger an email to him, and he’ll figure out what we’re up to.’
‘Maybe I should just put a gun to his head until he gives us the password,’ Anna muses, and I genuinely can’t tell if she’s joking or not.
‘Anna, you can’t keep Daisy here like this,’ I try. ‘She’s a minor, and you’re committing a crime that could result in a custodial sentence.’
She rolls her eyes in my direction. ‘How many times do I have to tell you? She’s here of her own volition. Daisy, would you mind explaining to Emma that you found me, rather than the other way around?’
Daisy pushes her glasses up her nose and dips the laptop lid. ‘It’s true. We met in a chatroom after I went looking for other victims of my uncle and his friends.’
I’m conscious of how carefully I need to tread here to avoid becoming an accessory after the fact. Now that I’ve found the pair of them I should immediately contact DI Oakley and let her know so she can reunite Daisy with her frantic family. However, I don’t have my phone, and Rachel’s won’t work without the SIM card, so my options are limited. If I go off in search of a phone in a village I’m not familiar with, there’s a chance Anna will up and leave with Daisy before I get back, and then I’ll lose any limited trust I’ve so far managed to garner. The best thing I can do right now is keep as close to the two of them as I can, and ensure no harm comes to Daisy while I await an opportunity to get hold of Oakley.
I take a step forward, concerned about Daisy’s use of ‘other victims’. ‘Are you saying that you’ve witnessed your uncle abusing others?’
‘Duh!’ she retorts, with an eyeroll as insipid as my sister’s.
‘Daisy, this is important,’ I say, softening my tone. ‘Did you suffer abuse at the hands of your great-uncle?’
She looks to Anna, as if seeking a parent’s approval to speak. Anna nods gently.
‘Not first-hand, no, but I was at his house when one of his friends tried to do something… Ian stopped him immediately, but when he came to speak to me about the incident afterwards, he made it very clear I wasn’t to mention it to anyone. He described it as a drunken misunderstanding, and bought me this laptop as a formal apology – or bribe as I prefer to think of it. But it got me thinking about all the other times something had felt off about him – the times I caught him looking at me a little too long. And then I remembered a girl called Sandrine who had been an au pair who’d lived with us when we went to stay at his house in France. It was four years ago, and everything had seemed fine, but then this one night she burst into my room in the middle of night in tears. I was too young to understand what she was saying – she was speaking in French – but I never forgot the look of terror in her eyes. That was the last time I saw her, and when I joined Facebook last year, I looked for her, because we’d got on so well, and that’s when I found the stories about her suicide the week after I’d last seen her.’
I’m struggling to keep up with how quickly Daisy is talking, though I sense this is a story that Anna has heard countless times, as she is nodding along despite the giant leaps in the dialogue.
‘I started searching for stories about Ian, but it was only when I managed to get into his computer at his house three months ago that I realised just how much of a lie he’s been covering up.’
‘Tell her about what you found in his files,’ Anna encourages. ‘Tell her about the dark web.’
To be honest, I’m not sure I want to listen to any more, but I don’t interrupt. I just wish I had my phone so I could record the interview.
‘I couldn’t believe how easy it was to find his password: he’d written it on a Post-it note in his desk drawer. I didn’t know what to look for, but then I found a folder marked “Private” and that’s when I found a shortcut to an external hard drive on his network. I opened it, and found close to two thousand video files of various lengths. There didn’t seem to be any logical filing system to them, other than the date they were recorded, and I felt sick when I chose one at random, and saw what the men in it were doing to the girl. She couldn’t have been much older than ten. I didn’t have the courage to watch any others, but I found a folder of still images too that made me want to throw up. What kind of sick pervert would hold onto such things? I wanted to call the police, but he returned home, and I had to scarper out of his office, and then I never seemed to be left alone at his house when my parents would take us to visit. I know that hard drive is in that house somewhere, but I don’t know where, and without proof I can’t go to the police. That’s why we’re trying to access it remotely now. If we could get some screenshots, as well as the location of the drive, we’ll have what we need.’
I have to remind myself that Daisy is just fourteen years old as she speaks with an eloquence far beyond her years. And yet, because of her immaturity, I don’t feel comfortable that Anna is using her in this way. Attempting to hack the credentials and private hard drive of a former MP is serious enough, without throwing currently unfounded allegations of child abuse at him. As much as I too want to get to the truth about the ring I believe Arthur Turgood was a part of, there are ways and means, and there is also a time to step back and allow the police to do their job.
‘Oh, and he had a shortcut to a Tor site saved amongst his favourites,’ Daisy continues, ‘which he obviously uses to go on the dark web, and I’m sure you don’t need me to tell you the sorts of things that go on there.’
I clear my throat. ‘Anna, could I have a word with you a second? Outside.’
She eyes me warily, before sliding back out, lighting a fresh cigarette as her feet hit the stony ground. ‘Happy now? I told you she was perfectly safe, and she’s not in any danger with me. If anything, I’ve taken her out of harm’s way.’
‘Or you’ve painted a giant target on both your backs.’ I sigh, if only to buy myself time to get my thoughts clear. ‘You have to take Daisy back. Right now your faces are plastered all over television and social media. There is an active manhunt for you both, and if you’re not careful, you’re going to give them all the ammunition they need to put you away for a long time, or bury you for good.’
She exhales a big cloud of smoke in my direction. ‘Do you have any idea how long I’ve been fighting to get at these bastards? They took me when I was barely old enough to know anything about life, and they did things that you cannot even begin to imagine. After they killed Precious, they got me hooked on methadone, as a means of controlling me and forcing my obedience. They smuggled me out of the country to Spain where I was forced to sell my soul for a hit. Then, when I thought I could take no more, they dragged me back to the UK and made filthy videos they could sell en masse. I had to fight tooth and nail to escape, and I was ready to end it all, but I knew deep down that I couldn’t go until I’d stopped them by any means necessary.’
My heart is breaking for her, but she needs me to be her conscience. I rest my hands on her shoulders. ‘I’m sorry for all of that, Anna. And I understand your desire to identify those responsible. I’m fighting the same fight, but going this way is not the answer—’
‘Don’t lecture me,’ she interrupts, brushing my hands away. ‘You have no idea what I’ve been through, and I’m not about to stand here and take advice from someone who was brought up in a loving home, in a perfectly picturesque life. I sent you those pictures because having read your first book, I believed that if anyone could help me, it was you. I had no idea we shared parents, but I have to say I’m disappointed at how different we’ve turned out to be.’
Her eyes mist over, as do mine.
‘Let me help you, Anna. Let’s take Daisy back home, and then you and me, and Rachel, and the police can work together to uncover the truth.’
‘Don’t be so naïve, Emma! Don’t you realise that these people – these monsters – have their claws in all levels of power? You think I haven’t tried to go via the police before? It doesn’t work! Inquiries get shut down all the time. Come on, you saw how they treated your friend Freddie. Do you really think anyone would be willing to listen to me without any evidence? Especially after what happened to Tomlinson?’
Now my frustration reaches boiling point. ‘Well, what did happen to Tomlinson? You’ve told me you didn’t kill him, but you still haven’t said exactly what occurred this morning. If he wasn’t guilty of abuse, how come he ended up dead? What aren’t you telling me, Anna?’
She doesn’t answer, simply shaking her head and stomping the cigarette into the ground. ‘You either want to help us, or you don’t. Either way, we can’t stay here any longer. If they were tracing your mate’s phone, then they’re already on their way. So what’s it to be, sis? Are you coming with us, or not?’
Chapter Thirty
Now
Chichester, West Sussex
Some would say it was against my better judgement to clamber into the back of my sister’s potentially stolen campervan, but in my defence, I don’t feel I had any other choice. Rachel certainly wasn’t impressed with the decision, but she couldn’t leave her car where it was in Alton, and there wasn’t space for a fourth person in the campervan, so I took her to one side and asked her to drive back to Weymouth and wait for me there.