Nowhere to Run

by Jack Slater

  ‘Please, have a seat.’

  Pete sat and took out his notebook and pen. ‘So, what can you tell me about the girl? Molly Danvers, was it?’

  ‘Yes. She came running into Reception not half an hour ago, wearing just a school skirt, hands taped together, screaming that a man had attacked her and was chasing her. As we calmed her down, it transpired that she had been abducted from quite close to her home, outside the city, raped, then brought here, where she escaped from her abductor in the car park. I called you and then her parents. They’re on the way.’

  ‘How old is she?’ Pete asked.

  ‘Fourteen.’

  He nodded. ‘A brave girl. Did she say anything about the man who did it? What he looked like? What he was driving?’

  ‘She gave us no description of him, but she did say that he was driving a white van. I imagine a Transit or something, from what she said.’

  Pete nodded. ‘Is there any CCTV coverage of the car park here?’

  ‘There should be. Sadly, it’s not operational at the moment. It broke down last week. Should have been fixed by now, but apparently the part that’s required has to come from Germany.’

  Pete grimaced. ‘Did she say anything else that might be useful? When was she abducted?’

  ‘This afternoon, on her way home from school. She wasn’t more specific.’

  ‘And injuries? Were there any, apart from those caused by the rape itself?’

  ‘Her wrists were quite sore from the tape. We treated and bandaged them. It’s too early for any bruising to show, of course, but she has no broken bones, knife wounds, anything like that, no.’

  ‘OK. It’s just that the more you can tell me, the less my colleague has to ask her at this stage. Less stress for her – you know.’

  ‘Of course. That’s . . . very understanding of you, Detective.’

  ‘I’ve got a daughter of my own,’ Pete said. ‘Ten years old. I’m just aware of how I’d want her to be treated in a case like this, heaven forbid.’

  ‘Yes, quite. We didn’t question her too closely for the same reasons. We thought that best left to yourselves. We just let her say what she wanted to.’

  There was a knock at the door and Jane came in.

  ‘Ah. DC Jane Bennett, this is Sister Veronica Martyn.’

  Jane shook hands with the sister and took the vacant chair.

  ‘So, we’ve got a fourteen-year old victim, abducted from near her home, outside the city, by a man in a white Transit-type van, bound, raped, but not beaten significantly. Sounds like he might have been planning to drop her off here, but she escaped from him in the car park and ran in on her own. Parents are on the way,’ Pete summed up. ‘So there was no mention of a gun, a knife, a Taser – anything like that?’ he asked the sister.

  ‘No. Nothing. She was quite distraught, of course, but that’s all I can think of to tell you, Detective.’

  ‘Well, thank you. You’ve been very helpful.’

  ‘Can I talk to her?’ Jane asked.

  ‘We haven’t sedated her so, as long as she’s willing, yes.’

  ‘The sooner we can get all the information she might have, the easier it’ll be to catch the man that did this.’

  ‘Of course.’

  They stood. ‘Call me when you’re done,’ Pete said to Jane.

  ‘Will do.’

  He thanked the sister again and headed back towards the front of the hospital while the two women went in the opposite direction. He nodded to the nurse on the front desk and walked outside. Maybe the guy smoking near the doors had seen something. But he was gone. Pete returned to the reception desk.

  ‘When I came in there was a bloke outside here, smoking. Mid-twenties, maybe. Dark hair. Leather jacket. Any idea who he was?’

  ‘Um . . . None of . . . Oh, maybe that reporter guy. We had a girl come in earlier. She’d been knocked off her bike somewhere in the city. Broken arm and some cuts and bruises. I don’t know how he heard about it.’

  ‘Do you know which paper he was with?’

  ‘E & E, I think.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  *

  Pete hurried back to the squad room. If a reporter had seen the girl go into the hospital, it would be all over the papers in the morning. Combine that with the story on Rosie Whitlock and you were guaranteed to have either a panic or a bloody witch-hunt for paedophiles on your hands by lunch-time. He needed to get across this now. There was no time for going back to bed.

  On the other hand, if a reporter had seen the girl going in there, why hadn’t he called it in? Arrogant sod thought the information highway had one-way signs on it, probably. Well, he’d see about that. He’d have the little bugger in here for the rest of the damn night, if needs be.

  He pictured the man standing under the light near the hospital doors, drawing on his cigarette like some kind of latter-day James Dean. And above his head, the globe of a CCTV camera that wasn’t working and hadn’t been for over a week.

  Was that coincidence? Or was it deliberate? White van. Maintenance. Of course, anyone working at the hospital would have had a CRB check done. But all that meant was they hadn’t been caught yet and you could say that about the majority of paedophiles.

  He threw his coat over the back of his chair and picked up the phone. Dialled Jane’s number for the second time that night.

  ‘Jane, it’s me. Are you still at the hospital?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Find out who the maintenance guy is, who should have fixed the CCTV, will you? Any details they’re willing to give. Stress the circumstances if need be.’

  ‘OK. Is that it?’

  ‘Yes. Talk to you later.’

  ‘Right, boss.’

  She hung up and he reached into his desk for a notebook, flipped through it until he found the number for the Exeter Express & Echo. He used the landline, on the basis that police numbers would not come up on caller ID, whereas his mobile might be recognised. Tucking the handset under his ear, he fetched out his current notebook and opened it to a fresh page. He had not had time to click out the tip of his pen when the call was answered.

  ‘News desk. Angela Jennings.’

  ‘Got you on the night shift now, have they?’

  ‘Who is this?’

  ‘Police. CID. Who did you have at the RDE tonight? Young lad, mid-twenties or so.’

  ‘Now, that would be telling, wouldn’t it? Why do you want to know?’

  ‘I want to know because he failed to report an incident that he witnessed while he was there.’

  ‘Well, if you know that, you don’t need him to report it, do you?’

  Pete felt the flare of anger and fought to keep his voice calm. ‘I’m investigating the disappearance of one young girl and the rape of another. So I’m not in the mood for games. I want his name and number. Anything short of that will be seen as obstruction. And press privileges will not cover it.’

  ‘So, you’re suggesting that the two events are linked? The disappearance and the attack tonight?’

  ‘I’m not suggesting anything. I’m not telling you anything. And I won’t be telling you anything unless you stop fannying about and give me what I need.’

  ‘OK. Hold on a minute. I need to get to my office and look it up.’

  ‘If you hear the sound of blue lights in the next couple of minutes, it’ll be because I was holding on too long.’

  ‘All right, all right. Just a minute.’ She put him on hold. He waited, drumming his fingers on the desk, for what seemed like far too long until, at last, she was back. ‘Who am I talking to? Specifically?’

  ‘DS Pete Gayle.’

  ‘Ah. I wondered if it might be. I covered your son’s case.’

  ‘I remember.’ His mind pictured a woman in her late thirties with long, dark hair and strong features. ‘Have you got what I asked for?’

  ‘Yes. But I was wondering . . . .this girl who was attacked tonight? What can you . . .’

  ‘At this moment, I can tell you no
thing. It’s an on-going investigation. The name and number?’

  ‘You really don’t play nice, do you?’

  ‘It’s late and I haven’t got time for games.’

  ‘Well, it’s Lee Birch you want. I’ll give you his mobile number.’ She read it out.

  ‘And his address?’

  She read that off too. Pete recognised it as being on the hill, on the far side of the river. ‘Thank you,’ he said and hung up. He dialled zero for the front desk. When it was picked up, he said, ‘It’s Pete Gayle, upstairs. You might get the E & E ringing up in the next few minutes. Block them, alright?’

  ‘My pleasure.’

  Pete grinned. ‘Thought it might be. Cheers.’ He killed the call and dialled Lee Birch’s number. It rang and rang. Pete began to wonder if the little bugger was going to pick up or ignore it, but finally, it was connected.

  ‘Lee Birch, Exeter Express & Echo.’

  ‘Mr Birch. Detective Sergeant Gayle, Devon and Cornwall Police. I saw you earlier this evening, outside the hospital.’

  ‘Uh . . . Yes, I was there.’

  ‘So you saw the young girl run in there, barely dressed.’

  ‘Yes, but I . . .’

  ‘Was just about to phone us. Yeah. Believe it or not, I’ve heard it before,’ Pete interrupted.

  ‘Yeah, well . . . I couldn’t add anything to what you’d already have from the girl and the hospital CCTV, so why waste your time?’

  ‘OK.’ Pete let up just slightly. ‘So, what exactly did you see?’

  ‘The girl ran in from the far side of the car park. Then, as I was watching her, I heard an engine. I turned round and this van was peeling out of there. Big, white job. Might have been a Nissan or a Toyota. Something like that.’

  ‘And did it have anything distinguishing on it? A logo? A name? A phone number?’

  ‘No, just plain white.’

  ‘Did you see the driver?’

  ‘Only a flash: just enough to tell there was one.’

  ‘The number plate?’

  ‘The van was at the far side of a bunch of cars. I only saw the top half of it.’

  The door opened and Pete glanced up.

  ‘Well, thank you for your assistance, Mr Birch.’ He hung up. ‘Jane, what are you doing here?’

  ‘It’s as easy to come in as phone you. Especially as you’ve been on the phone for ages.’

  ‘So, what have you got?’

  ‘The girl was dropped off – and attacked – in a white van. Like the one Kevin Haynes drives on occasion, while his car’s in dock.’

  ‘OK. But we eliminated him from Rosie’s abduction. He was elsewhere.’

  ‘I know, but . . .’ She paused. ‘There was something about a white van.’ She snapped her fingers. ‘I know what it was. The CCTV from near the school. It was a white van that was blocking the view of the Peugeot that we thought might be Haynes’.’

  He aimed his pen at her, gun-like. ‘Spot on. Have we got a number for it?’

  ‘Not yet. We were concentrating on the Peugeot.’

  ‘What about the hospital maintenance guy? What did you find on him?’

  ‘Name, address, phone number, CRB reference. And the fact that he doesn’t drive. He rides a bike to work.’

  ‘He might have the use of a car though. Or a van. Parents, girlfriend, sibling – you never know. We’ll need to check in the morning. And see if he lives alone, where his parents live and so on.’

  ‘Easier to go talk to him. I’ll do that on the way in.’

  ‘OK. Did the girl give you anything in the way of a description of her attacker?’

  ‘Scruffy blond hair, chubby face. She’s going to do a composite in the morning.’

  ‘Sounds like Haynes.’

  ‘Yeah, but like you said, he didn’t take Rosie Whitlock.’

  ‘Doesn’t mean he didn’t do this one.’

  ‘Shit, you think we’ve got two on the go now?’

  Pete sighed. ‘It’s the last thing I want to think, but we’ve got to accept the possibility.’

  ‘We going to knock him up then? Have a word?’

  ‘Not until we’ve got the composite. We need something firm to knock him off his game. You know what these blokes can be like. Glib as a bloody estate agent on double commission.’

  ‘In which case, I reckon it’s bedtime – again.’

  Pete grimaced. ‘Yeah.’

  He just hoped he could get back and get into bed without waking Louise.

  CHAPTER 15

  Pete pushed the front door gently closed and slipped his coat off. He hung it over the end of the bannister and headed upstairs, carefully stepping over the second stair, which always creaked loudly. There was no way he could make it upstairs completely silently, but he hoped he wouldn’t wake Louise. After all, it was a perfectly normal noise. It happened whenever anyone went up and down the stairs.

  Without putting the light on, he undressed and climbed into his pyjamas, which he had left on the chair when he dressed.

  He slipped under the duvet, closed his eyes and let out a soft sigh. Louise’s breathing had not changed.

  ‘Was it her?’

  Pete’s eyes snapped open. ‘Sorry. I thought you were asleep. No, it was another girl – one that I didn’t even know was missing.’

  ‘What, so you’re the missing kid specialist now? The one to call every time a kid turns up missing or dead?’

  He sighed. Here it comes. ‘No. It was a young blonde girl with no identification. The officer on the scene thought it might be Rosie Whitlock, but it wasn’t. She was too young. More like our Annie’s age.’

  ‘So, what took you so long? You don’t normally spend that long at a scene. Nowhere near. Was she there? Jane? Detective Constable Bennett?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘But you called her, didn’t you? Commiserating with each other, were you? Holding each other’s hands through the difficult process of discovery?’ Her voice had got louder as her tone grew more bitter.

  ‘Keep it down, will you?’ He turned to face her, pushing himself up on one elbow.

  ‘What? Don’t want to disturb the neighbours?’ She sat up against the headboard. ‘Don’t worry – I’m sure they’re used to my little outbursts by now. They can understand a grieving, neurotic woman’s need to vent. Especially when her husband would rather be at work than at home with her.’

  ‘I wasn’t thinking of the neighbours. I was thinking of Annie. She—’

  ‘Annie understands perfectly well that her dad would rather spend time with a pretty redhead at work than with her mother.’

  Pete sat up quickly. ‘What the hell are you on about? What have you been telling her? And what’s Jane got to do with anything?’ Shit. He slumped as soon as the words left his mouth. The last thing he needed was to encourage her.

  ‘You’re screwing her, aren’t you? Jane bloody Bennett? You must be. All I ever hear about when you’re at work is “Jane did this . . .”, “Jane said that . . .” And you couldn’t wait to get back there to her, could you?’

  Here we go again, he thought. Accusations and arguments like this, based on her own lack of self-confidence rather than anything he’d actually done, had become an increasingly frequent feature of her self-destructive depression over the past several weeks. At least partly, he thought they might be some sort of twisted way of gaining reassurance from him, but that made them no less difficult and traumatic to deal with. Especially as, before Tommy went missing, she had been so strong-minded.

  ‘I’ve been here, with you, for the last five months. I went back because they needed me to cover while they did all these simultaneous drug raids. You know that. But, when this case came in, I couldn’t pass it up. It wouldn’t have been fair to rest of the guys or the victim. And it’s not a five-minute job. There is no easy answer. And, in the meantime, the victim’s out there, somewhere, going through Christ knows what, probably at the hands of a pervert who seems to be killing his victims when he gets bored with
them. Like this one tonight. Murdered and dumped naked in the river at roughly the same age as our Annie. Who I didn’t want you waking up because she’s got school in the morning and she needs her sleep.’

  ‘So, what took so bloody long, then, if you’re so bloody innocent?’

  ‘Another attack. Another girl. But this one survived, so we had to go and see what we could find out about what happened to her, who’d attacked her.’

  ‘So, I was right. You did call her.’

  ‘What the hell is wrong with you? I am not screwing Jane Bennett. I never have. The thought has never crossed my mind. Or hers, I’d imagine. We’re both married. I’ve never been unfaithful to you and I don’t suppose for a minute that she has, to Robbie.’

  ‘Yeah, right. And I’m just supposed to take your word for that, am I? Trust you, like a good little wifie? All the time you spend with her. The amount you talk about her, it’s like there’s nobody else in the bloody station. Or if there is, they’re just background.’

  How the hell could he get through to her? To break this cycle of baseless suspicion? He drew a breath. ‘Jane is to me what I was to Colin Underhill, a few years ago. A student and an assistant. And a friendly ear, now and then, I suppose, but certainly nothing more than that. Yes, of course, her being female makes a difference at times. Like tonight, with this new victim. I couldn’t very well go and talk to her, could I? The last thing a young girl who’s just been attacked and raped needs to see is another man, especially one in authority. So I sent Jane, as a sympathetic ear, in the hope of getting some kind of a lead from her.’

  ‘And did you? Get a lead?’

  ‘Potentially, yes. We’ve got a couple of things to follow up on in the morning. And the girl’s agreed to do a composite.’

  ‘So, then this’ll all be over?’

  ‘We hope so, yes.’

  She gave a long, shuddering sigh. ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘What? What for?’ He would never get used to these sudden switches.

  Her eyes shone as she gazed back at him in the dim light. ‘Being such a pain. Such a useless bloody wife. I know you don’t deserve all the shit I give you. I just can’t help it sometimes.’ She choked back a sob.