Nine Elms: The thrilling first book in a brand-new, electrifying crime series (Kate Marshall 1)

by Robert Bryndza

  ‘Nice one!’ said Tristan, a little too loudly. ‘Sorry.’

  Kate unhooked the padlock, pocketed it, and opened the door.

  The room inside was bathed in shadow. They closed the door behind them and switched on the lights on their phones. On one side the room was filled with junk; there were old branding signs for sun cream and make-up, and a stack of chairs against a wall. In the corner sat the huge old photo-processing machine. The walls were all lined with floor to ceiling shelves, and on each shelf were scores of box files. On the back wall there was a thick velvet curtain which was grubby and dusty.

  ‘Bloody hell,’ said Tristan. ‘Look at all this.’

  The box files were all labelled: tax, invoices, conference work, staff, payroll.

  ‘What about those right up there?’ said Kate, pointing to a row of ancient-looking files right up by the ceiling. They looked around. There were no ladders.

  ‘The printing machine, it’s on wheels,’ said Tristan.

  They managed to pull it out and push it to the opposite corner. Tristan climbed up and starting pulling down the old box files. He handed them to Kate and she piled them on the floor. She opened each one, dust billowing up around the room. The first two were filled with old paperwork and bank statements, but the next contained packets of photos. There were actors’ headshots, and corporate modelling shots. Kate could see dates written on the packets.

  She took some more box files from Tristan and, hurriedly looking through, found photo packets from 1989 to 1991. The first couple of packets were actors’ headshots, but then there were photos of two young girls in school uniform, posing in a sunny bedroom. As the photos progressed, the girls took their clothes off, and then they were naked.

  ‘How are you getting on? Oh Jesus,’ said Tristan, climbing down and joining her. There were six or seven box files left to look through, and he opened them.

  ‘I’ve got photo packs dated 1990 and 1991,’ he said. ‘Mostly teenage girls . . . And there’s more.’

  ‘What was that?’ said Kate.

  They froze at the sound of a car pulling up outside. There was silence and then they heard a door slam.

  ‘People live here. There are those houses opposite,’ said Kate. ‘Bag these up. I saw a pile of old promotional tote bags over there.’

  She went to the velvet curtain and pulled it back a little. Behind it was a small window, and she could see Paul Adler dressed in jeans and a jacket. He was with Tina, the young girl who worked for him. She had on a short dress, and was tottering on high heels, holding onto his arm. She was laughing and they were making their way along to the front of the shop.

  ‘Shit. We need to move, now,’ said Kate, her heart hammering in her chest. She saw Tristan had tipped out the photo packets into an Oil of Olay-branded giveaway tote bag, and he was on top of the photo machine with the box files.

  ‘Pass the rest up!’ he said.

  Kate handed them up to him, then went to the door and opened it a crack. There was a slow whirring sound and she could see the metal security grille covering the shopfront windows rising. Tina and Paul’s feet were visible and then their legs as it slowly rose up.

  Tristan jumped down from the printing machine and together they rolled it back in place.

  ‘Run for it! Take the bag!’ she hissed. She pushed him through the door and followed him out. She took the padlock from her pocket just as the security grille cleared the door. Kate knelt down and went to hook the padlock back onto the door, but she dropped it.

  ‘Hurry! He’s coming in!’ said Tristan.

  ‘Go, just go,’ said Kate.

  She scrabbled around on the floor in the dark. She could hear a key being pushed into the lock in the front door. Her hand closed over the padlock. She picked it up, hooked it back in the door and clicked the lock shut. They heard the second lock turn in the front door, and as it opened Kate and Tristan ran for it, down the corridor and into the kitchen. Kate closed the door as softly as she could. Tristan got the back door open and when they were through Kate closed it. They ran out into the loading bay, Kate closing the gate behind them, and they didn’t stop until they emerged onto a side street.

  ‘Oh my God!’ said Tristan, as they slowed.

  ‘That was so close,’ said Kate.

  They kept checking behind them as they speed-walked back to the car, but no one was following.

  Kate yanked the car door open and got in, starting the engine. Tristan barely had his door closed as the car pulled away. They were silent for a few minutes as they sped through the dark streets. Kate looked over at Tristan, clutching the bag containing the photos.

  ‘What do you think they were doing there so late?’ he said.

  Kate raised an eyebrow. ‘I’m sure they weren’t there to count aspirin.’

  ‘Have we crossed a line here, stealing?’ he said, looking visibly shaken.

  ‘No, no. Those photos don’t look innocent.’

  ‘What if Caitlyn’s not in any of them?’

  ‘Let’s just breathe and take a moment,’ said Kate, her nerves still jangling.

  It had been a risky move, and they had almost been caught. Kate waited until they were on the motorway home before she took off her baseball cap.

  She hoped they would glean something from the photos.

  CHAPTER 54

  Tristan fell asleep when they were on the motorway, and Kate drank in the peace and silence as she drove. It felt like this was the first time she was able to process everything that had happened over the past few days: Jake’s photo addressed to Peter Conway sent by ‘The Fan’, the note left on her car after the vigil, then meeting Gary Dolman again, and him making the link between Peter Conway and Paul Adler. And amongst all this, she had almost fallen off the wagon.

  She didn’t know if she should feel fear or triumph, having survived the past few days. She felt so much guilt – guilt that she wasn’t able to protect Jake, guilt that she would now have to rush around and ready the house for his stay at the last minute, guilt that she had put Tristan in a dangerous situation.

  Kate wondered if men felt guilt so acutely. They never seemed to feel guilty as absent fathers. Paul Adler had his photo collection, and it seemed he was sleeping with at least one of the young girls in his employ. Didn’t he feel guilt that he had a wife at home? She looked over at Tristan, sleeping slumped with his head over the bag of photos. How was he able to just switch off and sleep after everything that had happened? Her nerves were still jangling and her head was crowded with thoughts, all wanting to be heard.

  The road stretched out ahead, dark and empty. The only spot of light on the horizon was Jake. He was coming to visit for four days. Four days without Skype calls and having to make the time count. They would have so much time to talk and catch up and have fun.

  They arrived back in Ashdean after midnight. The adrenalin had left Kate’s body and she was very tired. It was a relief to finally see the twinkling lights along the seafront.

  Tristan was still asleep when they arrived outside his flat.

  She leaned over and gently shook his shoulder. ‘Hey, we’re here.’

  He opened his eyes and looked around blearily, and then down at the bag of photos. ‘I didn’t dream it, then?’ he said.

  ‘No. And thank you.’

  He nodded and smiled, rubbing his eyes. ‘Okay, so what time tomorrow?’

  ‘It’s reading week,’ said Kate.

  ‘That’s so cool. A lie-in.’

  ‘I’ve got Jake coming on Tuesday . . . well, it’s now Monday so I should say tomorrow. I have a million things to sort, but do you want to come over in the afternoon and we can look through these photos and plot our next move?’

  He nodded and got out of the car. ‘Get a good night’s sleep,’ he said.

  Kate watched until he was through his front door. He waved at her and she drove home. The police car had gone from outside her house, and she made a note to call Varia in the morning. When she got indoors, she m
ade herself a cup of tea and went to sit in the armchair by the window.

  Despite her exhaustion, she took out the packets of photos and fanned them out on the carpet. As well as the prints, each packet contained a little pocket of negatives in the front. Kneeling down, Kate started to go through each packet. They were dated between 1989 and 1991, matching the years that Peter Conway had lived in Manchester. The photos were all of young women, and looked like impromptu amateur modelling shoots. The girls were in their late teens, and each was small and petite with long hair. All the photos were taken in the spring and summer months, and outdoors in the sunny countryside. The girls slowly disrobed until they were naked, posing with their arms across their bare chests at first, and then fully nude; some lying back in the sunlight on a blanket, others leaning against a tree, backs arched with their eyes closed, a performance of fake desire.

  At first glance they didn’t look to be in distress, although it was impossible to tell what they were thinking from a photograph. Did Paul Adler promise them something? Did he pay them? Or were they just caught up in his charm and their wish to please him?

  She searched through and found another set of photos, and she thought she recognised the girl as Caitlyn. She went to get the ones Paul had given her to check. They matched – it was Caitlyn. The photos she and Tristan had taken looked to be from another day. Her hair was shorter and this time she was in a wooded area. Caitlyn lay naked on a rug and posed, resting on her arm.

  The next photo was taken from far away. A naked man with dark hair sat with his back to the camera and Caitlyn straddled him, her legs wrapped around his waist. There were several photos like this, taken in quick succession.

  Another photo was a close-up of Caitlyn with a man’s penis in her mouth. She knelt on the same rug. There was something about the two naked legs in the photo that made Kate stop and stare. They were both covered in dark hair, but the legs were of slightly different proportions, and belonged to two different men, sitting close together. The second man was photographing Caitlyn with the first man.

  They were both naked.

  Kate looked through the rest of the photos, and found there were two more women who went to the woods for sex. Again, there were two men involved, and neither had their face showing.

  Then a photo of a dark-haired woman made Kate stop in her tracks. She held it close and peered at the woman's face.

  ‘Jesus,’ she said. ‘I know who you are.’

  CHAPTER 55

  Just before nine the next morning, Kate and Tristan knocked on the door of a smart terraced house on the outskirts of Bristol.

  They’d only had a few hours’ sleep, but they’d left at 6 a.m. to beat the Monday morning traffic.

  ‘What if she’s not in?’ asked Tristan.

  Kate didn’t want to think about it. Nothing was ready for Jake’s visit. She would somehow have to fit in shopping, cleaning and changing beds. She pushed it to the back of her mind as they saw through the stained-glass window in the front door a figure moving down the hallway towards the door.

  Victoria O’Grady opened the door wearing leggings and a long pink jumper. Her face was devoid of make-up and it made her look younger, more vulnerable.

  ‘Hello?’ she said, confusion and annoyance on her face. ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘Can we talk to you?’ asked Kate. ‘It’s important.’

  ‘No. I’m getting ready for work, and how did you get my address?’ she said.

  ‘We googled you,’ said Kate. ‘Please, this is important. It’s about Caitlyn’s disappearance.’

  ‘I’ve told you all I know. Now really, you must leave.’ Victoria tried to close the door, but Kate put her foot in the jamb. ‘Take your foot away.’

  Kate took a photo out of her bag and held it through the gap. It wasn’t the most explicit photo. It was of Victoria kneeling on a rug, next to the two men’s naked legs. Her face was turned up to them and lit up by the sun. Her arms were crossed protectively across her chest, and she looked to be steeling herself for what was about to happen.

  Victoria stared at the photo for a moment, then started to shake. She went to close the front door again, but slumped against the wall. ‘Oh, oh, no,’ she said, her face crumpling. She put a hand to her mouth and bolted away down the hallway and through a door, slamming it shut. They heard her throwing up. The front door swung inwards and hit the wall.

  ‘Do you mind waiting in the car?’ asked Kate. ‘I don’t think she’ll want to talk in front of a man.’

  Tristan sighed, then nodded. ‘Okay,’ he said, taking the keys. ‘But keep your phone on.’

  Kate stepped into the hallway and closed the front door. She followed Victoria to the bathroom and knocked softly.

  ‘Victoria?’ she said.

  ‘Go away,’ came a muffled voice. ‘Please.’

  ‘I have more photos. Paul Adler doesn’t have them any more. And if you talk to me, I think I can help you.’

  There was a long pause and then the door opened. Victoria’s eyes were puffed up and she was shaking.

  Kate reached through the gap and took her hand. ‘It’s okay.’

  Victoria nodded.

  Kate made them tea and they went to sit in Victoria’s cosy living room. It took a few minutes to get her talking.

  ‘I was always made to feel plain at school, by the other girls. You’ve seen the school photo. It was a high-achieving girls’ school. And you know what teenage girls can be like. Paul Adler started to come in to the video shop, and he was flirty with me and Caitlyn. One day he came in at the end of the day, just as I was closing up, and asked if I wanted to go for a drink. He was handsome and had this magnetism. He was dangerous and exciting, and he said he thought I was beautiful. I started seeing him. We’d go for drives in his car, and then one day he arranged this amazing picnic, and took me out to this lake. He was the perfect gentleman, and it was me who made the first move and we kissed . . . A couple of weeks later he asked if I wanted to go again, and this time he told me he had a new camera and he wanted to try it out. We’d been drinking wine, and I was feeling a little bit tipsy, and it gave me confidence. He took pictures of me, he asked me to pose. I had all my clothes on and it was another lovely day. He even gave me the prints afterwards . . . ’ She wiped a tear from her eye. ‘He just seemed like such a nice guy, when I now realise he was . . . ’

  ‘Grooming you,’ said Kate.

  Victoria rolled her eyes and grabbed a tissue. ‘It’s so obvious when you say it like that. I was so stupid and naïve . . . ’ She blew her nose.

  ‘Did you tell anyone about your picnics?’ asked Kate.

  ‘No. He told me not to. He said that he would lose his licence, and that he had a sick mother to look after. He said that we should wait until I was sixteen and then we could get married . . . Looking back, I thought it was a relationship. How screwed up is that?’

  ‘What about Caitlyn?’

  ‘I found out that she’d been seeing him as well. I thought I was the only one. I had a huge fight with Caitlyn, and I got my father fire her. Then I confronted Paul about it. I think he was shocked at how angry I was . . . He invited me for another picnic the next day, and he said he wanted to make it up to me. This time we went out to the country, to Jepson’s Wood, which was different to where we’d been before. He said it was this magical place, his favourite place, and that he wanted to ask me something.’

  ‘A proposal?’ asked Kate.

  ‘That’s what he hinted at . . . ’ Victoria shook her head again. She took a deep breath. ‘He’d packed a beautiful picnic, and he’d brought wine . . . But I don’t remember him having much. He kept topping up my glass, and then I started to feel really strange, disconnected . . . Like I was floating out of my body. The rest of the afternoon is like a blur. Another man was suddenly there and I just remember them talking to me, and I couldn’t hear, and then they were naked . . . and I remember putting my hand down to my legs and feeling that my shorts and my underwear had
been taken off . . . ’ She broke down, her head in her hands, sobbing.

  Kate went to her and took her in her arms.

  ‘I don’t remember much else. The next time I was lucid I was at home in the bath and I was bleeding, you know, down there,’ she said.

  ‘Where were your parents?’ asked Kate.

  ‘They were out that day, and they didn’t get home until late that night, when I had cleaned myself up . . . The next morning, Paul rang me and said he wanted to talk. He wanted to meet at the chemist’s, and that’s when he showed me the photos. All the things they had done to me and photographed. He said if I ever spoke about it he would send these photos to my parents, and he would send them to the readers’ wives section in all the top-shelf magazines. This was before the internet and so many blokes would look at the readers’ wives, even my dad did. If he’d seen me there . . . ’

  ‘Oh, Victoria, I’m sorry.’

  ‘Just knowing all these years he’s kept these photos.’

  ‘Do you want to see the photos?’ asked Kate.

  ‘No. I saw them once. They are disgusting and explicit . . . I’ve never been able to enjoy sex since.’

  ‘Did you know when Caitlyn met them? I have a similar set of photos where Caitlyn is with the same two men.’

  ‘I don’t know. After we rowed and she left the video shop, I never saw her again.’

  ‘You must have thought about her, going missing?’

  ‘You don’t think I feel guilty? You don’t think this has hung over me? The fear of what he might do one day with those photos? And then, as the years pass, you just start to think in terms of survival. I’ve survived this long, everyone has forgotten, I’ll just bury it away and it will never be talked about again.’

  ‘Was the other man in the photos Peter Conway?’ asked Kate.

  ‘I don’t know. Over the years, I’ve had memories come back, but I see them from where I lay on the ground, and they have the sun behind their heads, blurring their faces . . . I do have something, though.’