by Jane Isaac
A gust of wind caught her, blasting her hair into her face. She pulled a tie out of her pocket, roughly tied it back. Eden had still been sleeping when she left; Beth had asked Chloe’s mum to sit with her on the pretence that she needed to go to the office and check on things. Where the hell was Kyle? Should she wait, or head down onto the towpath and knock the door of the barges below. She was toying with this when… something didn’t feel right. If this did have anything to do with Dale Yates, he was a planner. Which was one of the reasons he’d managed to evade arrest for so long. He stalked his victims, watched their habits. Carefully organised his kills. If he’d organised the abduction of Lily, it meant he or those close to him had been watching her habits for days, maybe weeks. And he was unlikely to keep her near a road, or close to other boats.
She leaned on the bridge, tapping her fingers against the cracked stonework as she waited. Time passed. She checked her watch. 10.10 a.m. Still no sign of Kyle. She pulled her phone out of her pocket, tapped out a message to Nick to say where she was. She was heading back to her car when she heard the low purr of an engine. It grew louder. Eventually a black Discovery appeared over the brow of the bridge. Despite the grey day, the driver’s sun visor was low, obscuring their face. They indicated and parked behind her Mini.
Beth slipped her hand in her pocket, still clutching her phone as a man unfolded himself from the car. He was average height and lanky, dressed in baggy jeans and a black hoody. His head was shaved; a dark goatee beard covered his chin.
‘Beth?’ he asked.
Beth eyed him warily. ‘Who are you?’
He looked across at her through hooded eyes. ‘Kyle can’t make it.’
‘What do you mean, he can’t make it?’
‘He was on his way when the police caught up with him. They’ve arrested him for some kind of fraud, taken him down to the station.’ He turned, pressed a button on his key fob and locked his car. ‘I guess you know all about that.’
Beth’s heart slid into her boots. This was the phone call she’d made to organised crime to get Kyle out of the way. Osborne said he’d act quickly. And, after almost seven weeks, he’d finally come up trumps and made an arrest. The timing couldn’t have been worse. ‘And you are?’
He was quiet a moment. ‘Spike.’
‘Okay, I guess I’m off.’ Beth made to walk back to her car.
Spike grabbed her arm. ‘Not so fast.’
‘I beg your pardon.’ She shook off his hold. ‘Do you know where my niece is?’
‘I’m here to show you. I promised Kyle. And there’s no way I’m going back without seeing it through.’
He seemed desperate. What hold did Kyle have over him to persuade him to do this? ‘What’s your real name?’
He stared at her. ‘My mates call me Spike.’
‘You sure you know what you’re getting into?’
‘Kyle’s filled me in.’
Beth squinted, unsure of what she’d been told or whether to trust him. She pulled out her phone again, switched on the screen.
Before she could scroll through her contacts, a hand shot out. ‘No phones.’
Beth tightened her grip on the plastic. The screen was still lit. The signal low. Her last message to Nick shown as draft. She hadn’t pressed send.
‘The boat is owned by someone with very influential friends. If they get a whiff of Old Bill, we’ll all be for it.’
‘But they’re happy for someone to keep a kidnapped child on there.’
Spike ignored the statement. ‘A favour will have been asked, down the chain. They probably don’t realise what it’s being used for. These are high stakes. We get in and get your kid out with minimum fuss, right? You can do whatever you like afterwards.’
Beth didn’t answer. She’d take the details of the boat herself, deal with the owner later. Right now, her priority was to get to Lily. ‘Which one is it then?’
Stones crunched under her feet as she followed him, scurrying down the footpath at the side of the bridge. At the bottom, Beth looked each way. The two boats bobbed at the side of the canal. A weak winter sun had broken through a narrow gap in the clouds and shimmered on the water; the air was eerily quiet.
‘This way.’ Spike turned left and strode down the towpath away from the moored boats. She wanted to slow him, question him more – there were no more boats, no houses she could see nearby – but his pace was fast. He marched under the bridge, checking back over his shoulder every few seconds.
They walked about fifty yards or so. Low hanging hawthorn snagged at her jacket. The canal an empty pool of darkness. Irritation scratched at her. ‘What do you know about Dave Salmons?’ she ventured.
He didn’t answer, quickening his step.
She’d had enough of his games. She reached out to grab his elbow, force him to speak, when they turned a corner. A boat sat ahead of them, moored to the bank, forty yards or so away. A blue narrowboat with bunches of bright coloured flowers painted along the side. Round portholes, the name Rosalie written in swirly red and white letters.
As they grew closer, she could see the portholes were blocked out by blinds, masking the view inside. Rippling notes of classical music filled the air.
Spike sped up. For a second, he looked as if he was going to continue along the towpath. At the last minute, he stopped, checked both ways and climbed aboard the boat.
The door was closed. Locked.
‘What are you doing?’ Beth asked.
‘What does it look like?’ He dug his hand into his jacket pocket and retrieved two metal objects. A pick gun and tension tool. It was a Yale lock. He planned to break in.
Beth squirmed as he inserted the mechanisms and worked them against each other. ‘How can you be sure this is the right place?’ she said.
He said nothing. There was nothing obvious to suggest Lily was here and she wasn’t about to be party to breaking and entering someone’s property. Beth wandered down the side of the boat, searching for a gap at the side of any of the blinds. It seemed deserted. If it wasn’t for the music playing…
Was Lily kept here? Or was this a trap, to finish Beth’s career good and proper? She only had the word of a friend of a convicted criminal, after all. Not exactly trustworthy. If she was in uniform, she’d have a baton, maybe even pepper spray to defend herself. Here she had nothing. She spun around, searched the bank for a stick, a branch… But it was mid-winter and the hawthorn edging was bare.
Beth doubled back to find Spike crouched down, examining the lock. Again, she grabbed his arm, more firmly this time.
He rounded on her. ‘What’re you doing?’ he hissed. ‘We don’t have long.’
‘I want to know exactly how you know she’s in there. Otherwise, I’m out of here.’
His face clouded. ‘We don’t have time—’
‘Who found her?’
‘An associate. He walks his dog down the towpath every morning. The boat’s been here a couple of weeks. He’s watched the guy go out jogging. Yesterday, he spotted him carrying something wrapped in a blanket. He wasn’t sure what it was until he saw a clump of blonde hair and realised it was a child, unconscious. Kyle had put the word out about the missing girl. Which is why he alerted us.’ He looked sheepish, as if he’d said too much. Turned back to the lock, inserting his tools, working them harder.
An associate. Kyle had said the informant had been anonymous. Doubt whirled inside her. She was about to hop off, to leave when a click filled the air. The door popped open.
Crisp classical notes floated out into the air.
Spike opened the door wider and peered inside. ‘It’s clear.’ He indicated for her to follow. They dropped down the steps into a surprisingly roomy area that was furnished as a lounge with a wooden floor, a leather sofa and a folding table opposite a wood burner. Photographs of birds hung on the wall. A bookshelf beneath. The closed blinds made it feel dingy, but through an opening further down Beth caught the edge of a fridge in a small kitchen, a darker corridor leadi
ng to the back of the boat.
Lily was sitting on a stool in the corner, head bowed, face obscured by a curtain of tousled hair.
‘Lily!’ Beth cried. The child didn’t move. Beth rushed to her side, grabbing her wrist. A pulse. She was still alive! ‘Lily, it’s Auntie Beth. You’re safe now, darling.’ She folded back her niece’s hair, examined her limp face. Her eyes were closed. She must have been drugged.
Spike urged her to hurry. He stayed beside the door, ready to make a quick exit.
Lily’s wrists were duct taped together. Her ankles cable-tied to the stool which was bolted to the floor. Beth tugged at the ties. They wouldn’t budge. She glanced about, pointed to the kitchen and hissed to Spike to search for a knife or some scissors while she started work on the duct tape.
He seemed uncertain, hovering for the shortest of seconds.
‘Come on!’ she said, motioning for him to move past her. She smoothed back Lily’s hair again, kissed her forehead. Uttered soothing words as she peeled away at the duct tape. It was only a matter of time now…
The sound of a toilet flush filled the room.
Spike jumped back from the kitchen. They weren’t alone.
But it was what was behind him that made terror firework in Beth’s chest. Dale Yates appeared in the doorway.
Spike saw the look in her eyes, started to turn his head. Too late. A claw hammer thrust out, catching him square on the nose.
‘Argh!’ The boat rocked as Spike stumbled back, clutching his face. Ribbons of blood splattered the walls. Another blow. Spike lost his footing that time, grabbed at Yates. The boat thudded against the bank, water sloshing up the sides as both men fell back into the sofa.
Still the music of Wagner played in the background, a poignant accompaniment to the violence unfolding.
Beth was scrabbling with the ties on Lily’s ankles, keeping half an eye on the men. If she could just break them… The next blow cracked like a whip.
Instinct made her turn. Spike was on the floor, his body limp. Yates was back on his feet, pulling back a boot. The screaming urge to stay with Lily, to free her, was deafening. But if she didn’t stop Yates, he’d kill Spike.
She tore herself away, searched frantically. Grabbed a lantern off a low table and hurled it at Yates. It connected with the side of his temple, startled him enough to make him pause. For a moment, Yates swayed, then froze. Eyes of pure evil staring at Beth.
The music ended abruptly.
A line of red trickled down Yates’ temple. ‘I’ve been waiting for you,’ he said to Beth.
59
Nick shut down his laptop and rubbed his forehead. Lily had been missing for over twenty-four hours now. Statistics suggested most kidnap victims were kept close to where they were abducted, yet they’d carried out extensive searches of the countryside around Mawsley Village, done a public appeal for any sightings, and exhausted door to door in the vicinity. Apart from a fleeting glance from a neighbour who lived on the corner of Eden’s close, nobody had seen the little girl after she left home.
He looked at the pictures of Yates plastered across their murder wall. The photos on Lily’s phone confirmed he’d visited their home in the past week.
Every tick of the clock itched.
He swivelled in his chair, his elbow inadvertently catching a pile of papers on the edge of his desk. Statements from Operation Aspen. He watched them drift to the floor, a chill running through him.
Yates was mirroring their last case, the disappearance of a child.
The waif-like Lily with the thin blonde curls, her cheeky sense of humour, filled his mind. So easy. Keen to please. Happy-go-lucky. Even her parents’ separation and her mother’s occasional bouts of depression failed to bring her down. As he became closer to Beth and got to know her family, he’d grown fonder of Lily. A lump hardened in his chest. They were playing the waiting game. Waiting for sightings. Witnesses. Intelligence. And it was driving him crazy. He couldn’t bear to sit here a second longer. He needed to re-join the search. He grabbed his coat and was making his way out of the office when the phone on his desk rang.
‘ADI Geary,’ he answered.
‘Nick, it’s Angelo from custody. We’ve got Kyle Thompson down here. He’s asking for you.’
‘What’s he here for?’
‘He was brought in by the organised crime squad on a fraud allegation.’
Nick brushed his free hand down the front of his face. Of all the days to make an arrest… ‘What does he want with me?’
‘I don’t know. He won’t tell me. He did say it was to do with Beth’s family. Asked to speak with you specifically.’
Nick thanked the custody sergeant, dropped his jacket over the back of his chair and made for the stairs. Was Kyle looking to bargain something crappy against a fraud charge? He hoped not. The last thing he needed right now was a desperate criminal coming up with loose information masked as cooperation. Not when every minute was precious.
He paused at the top of the stairs, scrolled through his phone and dialled DS Osborne in organised crime. Thompson was a tricky customer with a string of previous convictions. Current intelligence indicated he was continuing to cement his reputation as a career criminal. He wasn’t about to walk into an interview room with Kyle until he knew what he was dealing with.
Osborne answered on the second ring. ‘Nick, good to hear from you. Any news on Beth’s niece?’
Word was all over the station. A missing child tugged on every copper’s heartstrings, but anyone that had worked with Beth knew how close she was to her niece and how much the child meant to her. ‘Nothing yet, I’m afraid. I understand your team have brought Kyle Thompson in,’ he said changing the subject.
‘You don’t think he’s involved in her disappearance, do you? I thought you’d already questioned him.’
‘I interviewed him yesterday and didn’t think so, but he’s called me down to the custody suite to talk about Beth’s family. Can you fill me in on the details of your case? I won’t tread on any toes; I just want to be sure of what I’m dealing with.’
‘Of course. He’s been arrested for fraud and money laundering. We’ve been watching him for a while and delving into his finances. Unless he can come up with some pretty quick answers and account for how he’s financing his lifestyle, he’s got problems. We’re waiting for his solicitor to arrive before we start on him.’
Nick thanked Osborne, rang off and called Beth. The phone went to voicemail. He cursed and took the back stairs, two at a time.
‘Thanks for coming,’ Angelo said as he approached the custody desk.
Nick jutted his head at the door that led to the cells. ‘How long’s he been here?’
‘Twenty minutes. Long enough to be booked in, and to make a phone call to his solicitor. We’re waiting for his brief to arrive.’ He directed Nick down to an interview room. ‘I’ll bring him through.’
Kyle looked pale and gaunt. Nick made no move to sit as he was guided in. He wanted to keep this short. ‘What is it, Kyle?’ he said, the minute the door closed.
‘I’m checking you’ve heard from Beth.’
‘I’m sorry?’
‘Just making sure they’re all okay.’
Nick sunk his hands into his pockets. ‘Is there something you want to tell me?’
Kyle flicked his eyes towards Angelo and then back to Nick. ‘Can we do this alone?’
Nick shot him a hard stare. Osborne seemed convinced the evidence they had on Kyle was tight. If that was the case, he could be looking at a reasonable sentence and, with previous convictions for failing to answer bail, he’d be considered a flight risk; there was a good chance he’d be held in custody, on remand until his trial. Kyle would know this. Was he seeking to bargain? And what was Beth’s role in all of this?
Kidnapping was a serious crime. If he provided information or intelligence that led to an arrest, a judge might view his cooperation favourably when it came to sentencing.
He nodded to the cu
stody sergeant to leave them, waited for the door to close behind him, then turned back to Kyle. ‘This had better be good.’
‘When did you last speak with Beth?’ Kyle asked.
‘Just after nine. Why?’
‘Are you sure you haven’t spoken to her since?’
‘No.’
‘Call her.’
The desperation in his voice made Nick’s stomach drop. ‘I just did. It went to voicemail. What’s all this about?’
Kyle closed his eyes and hung his head. ‘I don’t believe this.’
60
Beth stared into the sable eyes of Dale Yates. She had no weapon to defend herself with. And nobody knew where she was.
‘Cat got your tongue?’ he said, a pernicious smile curling the edge of his lip.
Beth slid her gaze past him. He was standing between her and the door. Another glance, this time at the kitchen. There must be another exit at the other end of the boat. If she was quick, she might make it out before he grabbed her. But Spike lay still, unmoving. Lily was tied up in the corner. Even if she could get out, in the time it took her to get help, God only knew what might happen to them.
Yates’ mouth opened into a menacing grin. ‘A dilemma, isn’t it? Save them, or yourself?’ The cackle of laughter that followed filled her with foreboding. He was playing with her, like a cat with a mouse.
‘Those wounds need attention,’ she said, nudging her head at Spike who lay limply on the floor. A gash at the side of his nose. Another at the top of his arm. A pool of blood gathering around him.