Nowhere to Run

by Jack Slater

  He logged into his email and, sure enough, there was one from the IT department, Devon and Cornwall Police Headquarters, Middlemoor. He opened it. At the bottom of the summary page were links that would get him into the relevant email listing, Twitter page and Facebook account.

  He soon found what Tibbetts had been talking about. Several emails had been exchanged over a period of more than a year between Rosie and an address that he recognised instantly as his son’s.

  But Tommy hadn’t gone to Risingbrook School. He had attended the local comprehensive, so how did he know Rosie? He had certainly never mentioned her.

  He chose one of the emails at random and opened it.

  Hi Rosie,

  Cool session on Friday. And after!! Best ever. So smooth. Do it again this week?

  T.

  Friday? What did Tommy do on a Friday? Pete tried to think, but it was not as if he was regularly home in the evenings to take that much notice of what the kids were doing in their spare time. Or what Louise was doing, as long as they were looked after . . .

  Shit, he really hadn’t been much of a dad, had he? Or a husband, come to that. Far too absorbed in the job to . . . No, he thought. It wasn’t that he didn’t care. It was just that there was always something important to be done. Some urgent case to deal with; a criminal to get off the streets before other potential victims were harmed.

  ‘Sarge? What’s up?’

  He blinked at the sound of Jane’s voice. Looked up over his computer screen and saw her staring at him again, a look of concern on her face. ‘What’s up is that we’re back to square one,’ he said, hitting a key to minimise the email on his screen. ‘Haynes took Molly Danvers. No doubt on that. But I don’t believe he took Rosie Whitlock and I’m pretty certain he didn’t kill either of the other two. I don’t think he’s got anything to give us on who did either. Dave, what did you make of him?’

  ‘He’s a loner. He doesn’t mix any more than he has to.’

  ‘So he wouldn’t be part of a ring.’

  Dave shook his head. ‘He’d be too nervous for a start. Wouldn’t want to take the risk.’

  Pete nodded. ‘That’s my feeling, too. So, like I said, we’re back to square one.’

  ‘Not quite square one,’ Jane said.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘We’ve got the white van, which we didn’t have before.’

  ‘Have you got any idea how many white vans there are in Exeter, never mind in south Devon?’ Dave asked.

  ‘Hundreds. At least. But surely it’s worth re-canvassing? Checking if anyone saw it – maybe noticed it being out of context and remembers a partial plate or a distinctive logo or mark of some kind?’

  ‘Alright,’ Pete said. ‘Any other news? What about Neil Sanderson? Anything back on him?’

  Jane held up a hand, thumb down, and imitated a game-show wrong answer claxon. ‘Ee-eeeh. The pictures he’s got, while definitely dodgy, aren’t actually illegal. The girls weren’t involved in any kind of sexual act or portrayed in a sexualising manner. And it looks like he was caught twice on camera on the way to work that morning – passing the Airparks entrance, and that big antiques warehouse a little way along from it.’

  ‘It was definitely him?’

  She shrugged. ‘No actual registration because of the angle in both cases, but it was the same make and model with a male driver of his size, build and general description.’

  Pete nodded. ‘OK. So, Simon’s got Amanda Kernick. We concentrate on the others – Rosie and the girl in the weir. We need to confirm her ID ASAP.’

  Dave Miles’ phone rang and he picked it up. ‘DC Miles, CID. Yes. OK, great. Thanks. What have you got?’ He listened for a few moments then thanked the caller again and put the phone down. ‘That was forensics. They recognised the urgency of the situation and put a rush on Kevin Haynes’ place and the van.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘Nothing in his house. Not even any porn. And the only trace in the van came back to Molly Danvers.’

  Pete pursed his lips. ‘As he said.’

  ‘Yep.’

  Pete’s phone rang before he had a chance to say any more. He picked it up. ‘DS Gayle, CID.’

  ‘Peter, it’s Tony Chambers.’

  ‘Hello, Doc. What do you know that you didn’t last night?’

  ‘The victim at St James’ Weir is, as we estimated at the scene, nine or ten years old. Difficult to be more precise. Generally well nourished, though not in the past few days. She died of strangulation a little over twenty-four hours ago. Your perpetrator has smallish hands. There was no penetrative sex around the time of death, as far as I can tell, but she was not a virgin. No trace evidence, of course, after immersion in the river for several hours.’

  ‘Any way of telling how long she’d been in the river?’

  ‘Not precisely. Hours, rather than days, but I’m afraid I can’t narrow that down for you.’

  ‘And the sex – can you tell if it was consensual or not? Or how recent?’

  ‘With her age and size, there was some physical damage, but . . . well, there are variables to consider, of course, but I’d say it could have been more severe. And, as for timescale, we’re talking about the last week or so. Ten days, at the most.’

  ‘What – for the first time?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘OK, Doc. Thanks.’

  He put the phone down.

  ‘Well?’ Jane demanded. ‘What’d he have to say?’

  ‘The girl was strangled some time yesterday morning, then tossed in the river. And she’d been a virgin until a week or ten days ago.’

  ‘So, she was abducted, raped and killed when he was done with her.’

  No one needed to say that Rosie Whitlock was probably going through exactly the same now, while they sat here without any real leads.

  Rosie Whitlock, who had clearly been a friend of his son’s.

  Jane’s computer pinged and she focused on the screen as she began typing. Pete closed the email he had been looking at, then took a thumb drive from his desk and plugged it in. When the computer had opened it, he dragged the information from IT onto it then slipped it into his pocket as Jane looked up from her screen.

  ‘I’ve got her.’

  ‘Well, do tell.’

  ‘You were right, boss. She’s Lauren Carter, ten years old, from Barnstaple.’

  ‘How did you confirm it?’

  ‘She’s in the system. Shoplifting. Forensics took her prints before Doc Chambers took her to the mortuary and ran them through the system. She’s resident in a children’s home there. Was. She’s been in and out of care since she was six and this isn’t the first time she’s gone missing. Hence the lack of a report, I suppose.’

  Pete grunted. ‘Anything else on her?’

  ‘Not as yet. I’ll get on to it now.’

  ‘Good. We need to know how she got down here for a start. Known associates. If she’s gone off before, then where to and how?’

  ‘OK. I expect you want to get on to the kids’ home?’

  ‘Yes,’ he said heavily.

  She scribbled quickly on a Post-it and handed it across. ‘Here are the details.’

  ‘Thanks.’ He stuck the little yellow note to the top corner of his screen, picked up the phone and dialled.

  ‘Sunnyside. Can I help?’ asked a bright female voice.

  ‘This is Detective Sergeant Peter Gayle, Exeter CID. I’d like to speak to the person in charge there, please.’

  ‘That would be me. Catherine Hammond. How can I help, Detective?’

  ‘Does the name Lauren Carter mean anything to you?’

  There was the slightest hesitation. ‘Yes, of course. She’s one of our clients.’

  ‘Then maybe you can tell me where she’s been for the past ten days, and who with?’

  This time the hesitation was more marked. ‘Um . . . I’m not sure that I can discuss that sort of thing over the phone like this.’

  ‘Then look up Exeter police station and
call me back. But do it soon, Ms Hammond. Ask for me by name and they’ll put you through. Detective Sergeant Gayle. All right?’

  ‘Yes. Yes, I’ll do it now.’

  There was a click and the line went dead. ‘Well, that put the wind up her,’ he said. ‘Now we’ll see if she’s true to her word.’

  He sat back and waited. Jane picked up her phone. Dave was concentrating on the screen in front of him as he typed something into the keyboard. Seconds passed. Then Pete’s phone rang. He picked it up. ‘DS Gayle.’

  ‘Mike on the front desk. I’ve got a Catherine Hammond on the line for you.’

  ‘Good. Put her through, thanks.’ There was a click. ‘DS Gayle speaking.’

  ‘Detective Gayle. Thank you for your patience, but I’m sure you understand the needs of confidentiality in my circumstances.’

  ‘Of course. You were going to tell me about Lauren Carter.’

  ‘Yes, well, I’m afraid I can’t tell you much about the last few days. She absconded, you see. Not for the first time. So we were waiting to hear that she’d been picked up somewhere by your colleagues. I gather, from your call that she has been?’

  ‘She’s been found here in Exeter,’ Pete said. ‘She’s been missing before, you say?’

  ‘Back in March of this year, we got a call out of the blue from Thames Valley police. Two off-duty officers had observed her trying to catch a ride in a lorry from Chieveley Services on the M4. They picked her up and took her to the local station, at Newbury.’

  ‘But you didn’t report her missing, Ms Hammond.’

  ‘No, well . . . we thought she’d be picked up shortly anyway, so why trouble you until it was necessary? You’ve found her in Exeter this time?’

  ‘Yes. What can you tell me about how she might have got down here?’

  ‘Nothing, really. In the past she’s simply hitched lifts to where she wanted to go, but I can’t imagine why she’d have headed in your direction. What does she have to say for herself?’

  ‘She doesn’t, Ms Hammond. And she won’t. I’m afraid she’s been killed.’ He heard her gasp but ignored it. ‘Her body was found in the early hours of this morning. She’d been raped and strangled.’

  ‘Oh my God. That’s awful.’

  ‘So, you see, we need to determine both how she got here and why she would have come here. Do you know of anyone she associated with, in or out of the home, who she might have talked to, confided in? Friends, family, staff members? Anyone who might have helped her or anywhere that would have been a starting point for her journey?’

  ‘I’m sorry. I can’t believe this.’

  ‘Well, I’m afraid it’s true, Ms Hammond. And we believe that whoever killed her has abducted another girl, so we need to find all the information we can as quickly as possible. Lauren lived with you for how long?’

  ‘Uh . . . since June of last year.’

  ‘Over a year then. So there must be something you can tell me about her.’

  ‘Well . . . she tended to keep herself to herself. She was very self-reliant. Didn’t make friends easily. She was quite a dominant personality.’

  ‘Was this before or after her mother died?’

  ‘A few weeks after. She’d been in foster care, but ran away after the funeral. The foster parents couldn’t cope with her.’

  ‘Did you or any of your staff spend any time with her, one to one? Try to get through to her?’

  ‘Well, we tried, of course, but . . . she really didn’t want to know and we have twenty-seven other children here. It’s not like we have the time to deal with someone like Lauren, Detective. Like she was then.’

  ‘So, no friends and no authority figure to turn to. What about family, other than her dead mother?’

  ‘We were led to believe there was no one. Her mother had long since been disowned by her parents, so there was no contact there. Hadn’t been since before Lauren was born, or so we understand. We don’t have an address for them or anything. I seem to remember they were in London, but I’m not even certain of that much and there’s nothing in her records about them. Lauren’s father was unknown and her mother had no siblings that we’re aware of.’

  ‘I’ll need the contact details for her previous home. The foster family.’

  ‘I can get that for you. Hold on a moment.’ There was a clunk as she put the phone down then a series of faint noises before a scrape and a rustle of paper. ‘Detective?’

  ‘I’m here.’

  ‘A couple in Bideford. Michael and Mary Hall.’ She read out the address and phone number. ‘I . . . I still can’t believe this. It’s just too awful for words.’

  ‘And the worst part is, we might have had a chance of preventing it, if we’d known she was missing. Thank you for help, Ms Hammond.’ Pete put the phone down and sat back with a sigh. What the hell was the point in a system that was run by people who just couldn’t be bothered? ‘We just didn’t have time for someone like her.’ Well, you should have sent her to someone who did then, he thought, instead of just ignoring her. Then, maybe, she’d still be alive.

  He shook his head, disgusted by the pointless waste. But there wasn’t time to dwell. He picked up the phone again, not sure if he would have better luck with the previous foster parents or would end the call even more depressed and disgusted than he was already.

  He was part-way through dialling the number when DCI Silverstone’s voice rang out across the squad room. ‘DS Gayle. My office. Now, please.’

  CHAPTER 19

  Pete closed the door behind him with butterflies swirling in his stomach. How had the DCI got on to him so bloody quickly? Had IT informed him of the connection to Tommy? They must have: it was the only way. He stood to attention on legs that felt like rubber. ‘Sir?’

  ‘Why have I got the press demanding to know if we’ve got our man on the Rosie Whitlock case? Apparently, they not only have a picture of him being brought in, they also have his name and address.’

  A heady mixture of emotions swept through Pete’s mind. ‘What? H—’ He stopped as realisation dawned. ‘Lee bloody Birch from the Express & Echo. He was out the front when we brought Haynes in. I spoke to him afterwards at the front desk. He said he’d seen us. He didn’t mention that he’d got a bloody picture. Must have combed through their files, I suppose, to get the name. Little shit.’

  ‘“Little shit” is not the way we need to be referring to members of the press, Detective Sergeant. We need them onside. Which brings me to another bone of contention. They seem to have got hold of the fact that you’re heading the inquiry and the wisdom of that is being questioned, given your recent history.’

  ‘My recent history, as you call it, has nothing to do with this inquiry, sir. I thought we’d established that.’

  ‘That’ll depend on results, Peter. And you haven’t answered the question. Have we got our man?’

  ‘Not for Rosie Whitlock, no. Nor for Amanda Kernick or Lauren Carter.’

  Silverstone frowned.

  ‘The Jane Doe at Powderham Deer Park and the dead girl at the weir this morning. What he is guilty of – what we have evidence against him on – is the abduction and rape of Molly Danvers, using his employer’s company van.’

  ‘So there’s another bastard out there, abducting and killing young girls?’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘And where are we on finding him?’

  ‘Right now, sir, about where we were twenty-four hours ago.’

  ‘You’ve got nothing?’

  ‘We’re closing in, sir. We’ve eliminated several likely suspects, including Kevin Haynes. We’ve got more canvassing to do. And we’re waiting for forensics on Lauren Carter. I was just about to call her previous foster parents, to see if they could be any help.’

  ‘Well, let’s see if we can stay at least one step ahead of the press, yes?’

  ‘Sir.’

  ‘On you go then.’

  Instinctively, Pete put a hand to the thumb drive in his pocket as he returned t
o the squad room. It was safe and secure there, thank God, until he could examine its contents in some degree of privacy.

  He sat down at his desk.

  ‘What was that all about, boss?’ Dave asked.

  ‘Apparently, the press has got hold of the fact that we’ve got Kevin Haynes in custody. They want to know if he’s our man.’

  ‘Bloody hell, that didn’t take long,’ Jane said.

  ‘Little bugger from the E & E was out front when we brought him in. Got a snap of him in the back of the car, apparently.’

  ‘Pressure’s on then,’ Dave said dryly.

  ‘The pressure was on from the get-go, Dave. One, I had to fight for this case in the first place. And two, Rosie Whitlock is out there somewhere, in danger for her life.’

  Dave looked away and concentrated on whatever he was doing.

  ‘So,’ Pete said, picking up his phone. ‘I was about to make a phone call. Jane, when you’ve finished what you’re doing, why don’t you go see if you can knock up any more of the residents around Risingbrook, as you suggested it?’

  ‘OK.’

  ‘Take Dick or Ben with you. And when you’ve finished with the residents, go into the school and have a word with young Chris Mellor, eh? Find out what he knows, if anything. He’s got those pictures of Becky. That should give you some leverage.’

  ‘Right, boss.’

  ‘Dave, when you’ve finished what you’re doing, I need you to follow up on the research you did before into the local paedophiles. I know there’s only three convicted ones, but there have to be others, that haven’t been caught yet, or, at least, convicted. Check into on-going or outstanding cases, non-confirmed suspects, anything like that. Maybe Enstone or the other guy, whatever his name is, can give us a lead. They might well know something about someone. You don’t go from nothing to murder in one step unless it’s a panic reaction, and then someone would notice a change in behaviour afterwards. Also, the maintenance guy at the hospital – we need to check on him thoroughly.’

  ‘That’s what I’m doing now.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘Nothing yet. Gimme another twenty minutes, I should have it finished. Should we get Fast Track Phil to have a word with the press? Put an appeal out for anyone who’s been acting strangely in the last day or so?’