by Wyer, Carol
‘Where were you this morning, Mitchell?’
‘Here. You saw me.’
‘That was coming up for nine o’clock, and as I recall you hadn’t opened the shop shutters. You admitted you were running late. Why was that?’
‘I slept in.’
‘Was your van here when you got up?’
‘I think so. I can’t see it from my windows.’
‘You’d have heard it if it had left the car park.’
‘I’m afraid I wouldn’t. I sleep with earplugs in. That’s partly why I was late. I didn’t hear my alarm go off.’
He had a response for everything. Thoughts of her daughter again filled her mind. Could he or Brendon have snatched her?
‘Where were you yesterday afternoon?’
He scratched at his neck again. ‘What time would that be?’
‘Lunchtime – about one thirty.’
He gave an apologetic smile. ‘I was here. I had to look after the shop because Duffy was in custody.’
Her phone rang, interrupting them. She took the call on the staircase. It was Mike.
‘There’s something curious about the CCTV footage. We identified all the vehicles coming into and going out of Bramshall, and there was one we believed to be an unmarked SOCO van, the same make and model as on our fleet. We checked the log book and it wasn’t in the vicinity that night. It was in Stoke. The camera in Church Street is working again, and we discovered the same vehicle passing by at five this morning. We established our van was parked up at headquarters at that time, and we suspect the van on the CCTV footage is bearing false plates and belongs to the killer.’
‘What type of van is it?’
‘A Peugeot Expert.’
It was the same make and model as Mitchell’s. She hastily thanked Mike and returned to the sitting room, where Mitchell was now standing in front of the portrait, tears in his eyes.
‘Do you own a Peugeot Expert van?’
He nodded. ‘It’s in the car park behind the shop.’
‘And can I confirm you are the only person who uses it?’
‘No. It belongs to the shop and sometimes Duffy takes it out if we get a request for a call-out for a computer repair. The keys are up there.’ He pointed towards a wooden key holder by the front door, from which dangled various keys including a set belonging to a vehicle.
The keys could be accessed by anybody who came upstairs.
‘Is the door to the side entrance kept locked?’
‘Only when I’m not in.’
A person could get to the stairs from the side entrance and not be heard. There was a possibility that Brendon was setting up Mitchell, but it seemed like a long shot. He’d need to know the van was free if he took it without Mitchell’s knowledge and would have to be certain he wasn’t seen. And could Duffy actually be involved? Had they missed a vital clue? She had no time to process all her thoughts. If the girls had been in Mitchell’s van, there ought to be forensic evidence to prove it. There was only one way to find out. ‘We need to examine your van.’
There was no outward sign of unease at the statement. He nodded in the direction of the keys and said, ‘Go ahead.’
Murray appeared and shook his head to indicate he’d found nothing to assist them. They’d have to hope the van yielded some trace that the teenagers had been there at one time. Protocol dictated a forensic unit examine it in case officers contaminated it, but she didn’t have sufficient time to wait. Her daughter was missing and Brendon Jones was in the vicinity.
* * *
Lucy slammed the steering wheel with the flat of her hand. She’d spent a fruitless couple of hours stopping at every possible point where the canal met the road and asking about Swinging Rose and Brendon Jones. She’d missed her baby’s scan and she’d nothing to show for her efforts. The canal network was a fucking labyrinth.
She had two more stops to make but was fast losing hope. Swinging Rose wasn’t on the canal and she was beginning to wonder if it hadn’t moved out of Staffordshire. Her next stop didn’t look promising. She drew off the road onto a pavement next to an Audi dealership. The canal ran under a humpbacked bridge and was reached by a slippery grass track that hadn’t been used very much. The water was muddy and brown. Volunteers hadn’t cleared this section and tall weeds grew along the towpaths and plastic bottles floated in grime. She had a choice: to head left and towards a narrowboat that appeared to be moored there, or go right and follow the overgrown towpath that curved away from the dealership. She chose the lesser-used route. If she wanted to hide from everyone, she’d lurk here. Clouds of midges hovered above the stagnant water and she flapped at the odd one as it buzzed around her. Bloody canals. If Bethany ever decided they ought to try a canal boat holiday, she’d veto the idea immediately.
She reached a short brick tunnel, dark and musty, its ceiling glistening as if damp with perspiration. She wrinkled her nose as she walked through it. Beyond lay two narrowboats – the first called Black Pearl was a sooty black boat with faded flowers painted on its hull and planters on its roof full of weeds. The window shutters were closed, and when she banged on the door there was no response. The owner wasn’t there. The next boat, Jenny, had smoke coming from its stack. She called out and was greeted by a scrawny man with a Jack Russell that bared its teeth under his arm.
She flashed her warrant card. ‘I’m looking for a boat called Swinging Rose.’
‘Not here,’ he replied.
‘Have you seen this man around here?’ She held up the photograph of Brendon Jones and the dog growled threateningly.
‘No. Don’t see many people around these parts.’
Lucy put the photo away. It was hopeless. ‘Are there any more boats along here?’
‘One further up. It’s empty. Been here a while.’
‘How long?’
‘Couple of months, I’d say.’
She thanked the man and continued around the bend, where she stopped. The boat wasn’t Swinging Rose. It was a slate-grey boat with no markings or name. She’d drawn a blank.
Thirty-One
Friday, 20 April – Afternoon
Mike had arrived as quickly as he could and, together with one of his team, set about examining the Peugeot in the small car park. ‘Just so you know, they’ve almost finished with Duffy’s car,’ he said as he shone a light under the passenger seat, its intense beam picking out a small piece of fluff, which he lifted and bagged.
‘And turned up nothing.’
‘You got it.’
Natalie had asked Mitchell to remain inside and been met with no resistance. Murray was keeping an eye on both him and Duffy and had taken up position near the phone shop where he could keep an eye on both entrances. She checked the time again. It was almost three o’clock and Leigh had been missing for over twenty-four hours. She ought to ring David. He’d be as drained as her. School would be coming to the end of another day. She’d give anything for Leigh to turn up in her uniform, a sorry expression on her face – anything.
The car park was little more than a cobbled courtyard surrounded by a mix of old buildings, once a collection of warehouses. It was large enough for only six vehicles, with spaces allocated to the businesses that backed onto it: a chartered accountant who, according to the sign in his window, was out, a hairdresser and a kebab shop that only opened evenings. A yellow Ford Fiesta was the only other car there at the moment. She watched Mike peel away the carpet in the van’s footwell. She wasn’t sure what they’d find but any trace at all would link Mitchell or Duffy to the killings. If there was nothing, then she was a long way from working out who other than Brendon could be responsible. She tried Lucy’s phone to see how she was getting on but it went immediately to answerphone. She left a message asking her to ring back.
Standing with her back to the phone shop wall, she shivered. She should call David. Before she could act on her thoughts, her mobile rang. Ian could hardly get his words out. She tried to make sense of it. ‘Slow down. I can’t make out
what you’re saying.’
‘I’ve had a call from Manchester. They found a body in the canal a month ago. It was badly decomposed and they’ve only just identified the victim. It’s Brendon Jones.’
Natalie couldn’t hear anything else for the buzzing in her ears. Brendon Jones was dead but Swinging Rose was in Staffordshire. Mitchell’s cousin couldn’t be responsible for the teenagers’ deaths. However, somebody had moved that boat. She raced out of the car park under the archway and dashed over to Murray. ‘I’m pulling Mitchell in. Stay here in case he makes a run for it.’
She scooted to the side entrance and took the stairs two at a time. She flung open the door to Mitchell’s flat and called his name but was met with silence. Mitchell Cox had disappeared. She bounded back downstairs and into the shop, where Duffy was unpacking a box.
‘Where the fuck is he?’
Duffy pointed at the door with the keypad. ‘In the stockroom. Went in a few minutes ago.’
Natalie had a bad feeling. There was no good reason for Mitchell to go inside the room. ‘Open it up. Now!’
Duffy sprang towards the keypad and punched in the code. The door opened into a galley-sized room filled with shelves of phones and laptops. Several boxes lay in a heap on the floor along with an enormous poster advertising Nokia phones. A table had been moved away from the rear to reveal a small door. She rattled the knob but it was locked.
‘Where does this lead to?’
Duffy’s mouth was agape. ‘I didn’t know there was a door. There was just the poster…’
Natalie cast about but there was no sign of Mitchell. He’d escaped. She hurtled out of the front door, yelling for Murray as she ran. There was only one direction he could have taken, into the tiny alleyway between the kebab shop and his premises. The alleyway was only a few paces from the shop, but when they reached it there was no sign of Mitchell. He had vanished. Murray darted off to scout about for him but he could have hidden anywhere. Natalie let out a long groan then screwed around at the sound of her name being called. Mike was waving at her. She headed back to him.
‘Mitchell’s done a runner. I need to call it in.’
‘You better get a team on it quickly. We came across this in the back of the van.’ He opened up his hand to reveal a star-shaped earring, the twin of the one Savannah had been wearing.
Thirty-Two
Monday, 16 April – Afternoon
Savannah Hopkins is sick of Watfield. She hates school and detests her mother’s new boyfriend, Phil, even more than she’d hated Lance. After Lance had packed his bags and left, she’d thought it would be her and Mum again – the two of them, just like it had been before Lance had come on the scene, but her mum had had other ideas. Phil is slimy and gawps at her whenever her mum isn’t around, and it’s disgusting listening to the pair of them going at it in her mum’s room. It makes her want to puke.
It’s been a really bad day. She got into a fight with Claire Dunbar and argued with Sally, one of her best friends, except she isn’t her best friend or any friend. The silly bitch had taken off her friendship bracelet and pretended she lost it. Savannah has had it with them all. She is going to show them and teach her mum a lesson.
She smiles to herself as she sidles along the pedestrian high street. The chance meeting with Harriet and Katy in the phone shop has given her the opportunity she needs to make people notice her. Harriet is amazing and her dad is a gangster in prison. She doesn’t give a shit about anything or anyone, and when all three have done the Disappear dare, they’ll be in a special gang of their own. No one will mock her any more.
They’ve chosen which days they are going to do their dares and she is going first. She feels important – like a leader or something. She’s even hidden her best clothes in her school bag so she can change into them and look grown up and glamorous like Harriet when she films herself for the Disappear website.
She knows where to hide. They’d discussed the best places to go and she told them about the pavilion. Harriet knew of it too and thought it would be awesome if Savannah hid there. Savannah is certain there’s a room at the back of the pavilion. She only has to break in, and she’s brought a hammer and screwdriver she’s stolen for just that purpose. It’s going to be so cool to upload her own personal video and show everyone she isn’t afraid and can stay hidden for three days. Her mum will go mental and then she’ll be scared. When Savannah gets home, her mum’ll be so relieved that Savannah will be able to tell her to dump Phil or she’ll go again and this time not come home. It will be the two of them again.
She slows as she walks past the phone shop and spots Duffy rearranging stock in the window. He knows what she is up to and winks at her. She gives him a thumbs up and carries on, her heart fluttering in excitement. Maybe Duffy will be impressed and start thinking of her as more grown up now. She really fancies him. He is like a boy band member or a film star to look at and really friendly. He’s been so nice to her. Not like many of the others. He likes the rebel in her and she saw the way his eyes sparkled when she offered him a cigarette or told him she’d nicked something from Aldi. After this, he might even ask her out. The thought warms her. She steals towards her house. This is going to be the hardest part as she might get spotted but she doesn’t need to worry – neither her mum’s car nor the workmen’s van is there. This is too easy!
She jogs on and has almost drawn level with the park gates when the van draws up. The window lowers and Duffy’s boss beckons her over. She’s spoken to him a couple of times in the phone shop. She edges towards the van, anxious her mother might well be driving in the opposite direction and see her.
‘Duffy sent me. He had a brilliant idea of where you can hide. He’s had to go to the dentist but he’ll meet you there later. He asked me to take you.’
Duffy is going to meet up with her later. She flushes at the very thought.
‘Quick, climb in the back before anyone spots you.’
She rushes around to the passenger side and crouches in the footwell. He puts the van into gear, gives her a quick smile and pulls away. This is going to be even more mega than she’d anticipated.
Thirty-Three
Friday, 20 April – Afternoon
Lucy was halfway back to her car when she was struck by a sudden thought. Forensics had found slivers of grey painted wood under Savannah’s nails. The last boat along the canal had been painted grey. Could somebody have repainted the boat?
She turned on her heel and jogged back towards the boat and ascertained how long it was by striding out with measured paces. It was approximately the same length as Swinging Rose. She clambered onto the deck behind the cabin, maintaining her balance as the boat rocked. The rear doors were locked and covered by a heavy curtain preventing her from seeing inside, and like Black Pearl, the exterior shutters were fastened from within. She called out and listened hard but there was no sound. Studying the deck closely, she made out slight scuff marks in the dust and grime. Someone had been here recently.
She dismounted and stood beside the boat, her eyes inching forwards, section by section, searching for evidence of blue paint under the slate-grey but could see nothing. Then, taking out her penknife, she scraped away gently at the hull to uncover the original colour. It wasn’t long before her eyes widened.
* * *
Officers were searching for Mitchell but Natalie suspected he’d always had an escape plan. He’d been one step ahead of them right to the very end. The question was where he would go next. If she could work that out, she might also find Leigh.
Lucy’s call couldn’t have been better timed.
‘I think I’ve found Swinging Rose. I can’t be certain but it’s certainly a boat matching the description that’s been painted over in dark grey. I’ve picked away some of the paint and it’s cobalt-blue underneath. I can’t get into it without smashing the doors and I haven’t detected any signs of life inside.’
‘You think it’s the boat?’
‘Yes.’
‘Than that’s good enough for me. Let’s make sure. Where are you?’
Lucy gave her location and Natalie ran to the squad car to join Murray. ‘Lucy, we’re on our way. Mitchell’s escaped and he might be headed your way. Make sure he doesn’t see you.’
‘Okay. I’ll keep out of sight and let you know if he appears.’
Murray turned on the siren and they sped away. Natalie rang Aileen and told her what they were up to then sat back and tried not to dwell on the fact that Lucy had said she couldn’t raise anyone on board. If Leigh was there, she’d have responded if she could. Natalie rubbed sweaty palms on her trousers and once again silently begged for her daughter to be safe.
* * *
That wretched policewoman had got onto him. He couldn’t understand how she’d made the connection. He’d been so damn careful. The boat had been Cosmina’s gift to him. She knew what darkness lay hidden in his heart and loved him all the more for it…
‘You want to exact your revenge soon?’ Cosmina smiles her secret smile at him.
‘It’s no more than they deserve.’
She traces his face with one of her long fingernails, sending ripples through his body. Everything about Cosmina excites him. She’s like him – strong, independent and wilful. She’s stared death in the face and made a fresh start in a new country, and together they are perfect.
‘You will soon be able to put your plan into action,’ she purrs. ‘It won’t be long now until you are ready.’
She slips on her rubber gloves, lifts the needle again and presses the foot pedal to continue her work on the snake. The tattoo of the serpent is her idea. For years he has been haunted by the memory of the day in the washing machine when he believed a boa constrictor was squeezing the air from his lungs. She was horrified by the tale and now she’s turning that fear and anger into power. He controls this snake and together they’ll finally be able to get payback for that day.