by Jack Slater
Dave pressed Play and the cars, vans and lorries began to stream past beneath their viewpoint. They watched for a few seconds until Dave said, ‘There,’ and reached for the keyboard.
‘No, it’s a Freelander.’
Dave relaxed and they watched some more.
‘That’s one.’
Dave hit Pause and zoomed in until they could make out the number plate. ‘Not him.’
‘Keep going.’
He pressed Play again. The dark Range Rover passed out of frame and was almost immediately replaced by another, travelling close behind a Toyota with a caravan in tow.
‘Bugger, we’re not going to . . .’ Dave fell silent as the Range Rover pulled out to overtake. ‘Yes, my beauty.’ He waited until it reached the sweet spot in the frame and hit Pause again. Zoomed in. ‘Gotcha.’ He glanced up at Pete. ‘That’s him.’
Pete sighed heavily. ‘And if we confirm that Enstone’s out of the frame now as well that leaves us right back at square bloody one.’
‘Except with two paedophiles arrested and another one dead,’ Dave reminded him.
‘Yeah, but what good does that do for Rosie Whitlock?’
CHAPTER 27
‘Check the bus cameras anyway, to make sure,’ Pete said, picking up the red marker from underneath the whiteboard. He drew a heavy line through Damon Albright’s name on the suspect list at the left side of the board, then another through Neil Sanderson’s. ‘And keep going through those pictures. They might throw up something,’ he said, as he capped the pen and put it down. He looked around, spotted PC Clewes talking to Jill. ‘Sophie, are you busy?’
‘No, Sarge.’
‘You’re with me then. Come on.’ He led the way back down to the custody desk.
It was deserted.
Looking through the long, narrow window in the door leading to the cells, he saw Sanderson stepping into a cell. He tapped on the wire-reinforced glass and Jane and the sergeant both looked up. They locked Sanderson in the cell before coming back down the corridor.
Pete held up the piece of paper in his hand. ‘Jane, you and Sophie go and search Sanderson’s house. I’ll serve this on him and see what he’s got to say for himself.’
‘OK.’
He turned to the custody officer. ‘Brian, have you got an interview room free?’
‘Of course. Number one OK?’
‘Perfect.’
‘Right, you go get ready in there, I’ll bring him along.’
‘Keys were in his possessions,’ Jane said. ‘Shall we use them?’
Pete nodded and headed for the interview room. Inside, he checked the recording equipment, lifted the warrant from his inside pocket and flattened it on the desk. Moments later, there was a knock, the door opened and Brian showed Neil Sanderson in.
‘Take a seat, Mr Sanderson.’ Pete indicated the chair on the far side of the table.
Sanderson sat down. ‘What the devil am I here for?’ he demanded. ‘I’ve done nothing wrong.’
Pete started the recording equipment. ‘Well, that’s where we have a difference of opinion, Mr Sanderson. See, my colleagues and I were going through the computer files of the late Barry Enstone last night. Did you know him, by the way?’
‘No. Who is he?’ Sanderson maintained the belligerent tone.
‘He was a convicted paedophile, on the sex offenders register. Died yesterday evening, unexpectedly. Evidently, he was not abiding by the conditions of his parole. He was finding and downloading images of child pornography from the Internet. And some of those images were of your daughter, Mr Sanderson. Images that we didn’t see on your computer yesterday. Hence, the need for this.’ He turned the paper towards Sanderson and pushed it forward.
‘What’s this?’
Sanderson glanced down and read the heading, his eyes widened and he looked up. ‘You can’t do that. There’s no one there at the moment. My wife’s at work.’
‘There doesn’t need to be anyone there, Mr Sanderson. If there was, we’d have them wait outside or in a specific room that we’d already searched.’
‘I want my solicitor here, right now.’
‘You’re probably going to need him, but it makes no difference to this warrant.’
Sanderson fought to maintain his front of anger, but he was beaten and he knew it. ‘Alright. My keys are in the bag with the rest of my possessions, out there.’ He nodded towards the booking-in desk.
Pete placed his forearms on the table between them, concentrating on the man in front of him. ‘You know what my colleagues are going to find in your house, don’t you?’
He saw the flicker of truth in Sanderson’s eyes. Of recognition and fear. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
‘I’m talking about a spare laptop, a remote hard drive, a collection of thumb drives or CDs. Wherever it is that you store all those pictures you don’t want your wife to know about. What baffles me is why you left some of that stuff on your computer, where it could be easily found.’
Sanderson said nothing.
Pete let the silence drag for a moment. He was just about to say something when there was a knock on the door. ‘Come in,’ he called.
Dave Miles opened the door, a laptop computer in his free hand. ‘As requested, Sergeant,’ he said formally.
‘Thank you, DC Miles.’
Pete took the laptop from him and set it on the table. He opened it up and pressed the power button. The screen came up almost immediately.
‘In the file, labelled “Supplementary folder”,’ Dave told him.
Pete clicked into the relevant folder. ‘Thanks, Dave.’
Pete waited while Dave left the room. Heavy-handed was not the way to play someone like Sanderson. You needed to appeal to his mind, not his physical fear. ‘When we’re faced with a huge amount of data and not all of it’s relevant, we find it handy to pull out what we need into a supplementary folder,’ he said. ‘In this case, we’ve got these.’ He turned the laptop around so they could both see it. ‘That is Becky, isn’t it?’
Sanderson stared fixedly at him.
‘Look at the screen, Mr Sanderson. That is your daughter, isn’t it? Is she really asleep there, or are these pictures posed?’
Sanderson held himself rigid in the chair. His eyes flicked across to the screen and back without reaction.
Pete pressed the right arrow key. ‘And this one, Mr Sanderson, who’s that in the bottom of the frame?’
A frown flashed briefly across Sanderson’s features and he looked again. Pete saw his jaw tighten.
‘You know, the veining in a person’s skin is unique. Like a fingerprint or an iris scan.’ He tapped the right arrow again. ‘Also, I recognise that ring.’
Sanderson couldn’t help himself. He looked again. And swallowed heavily.
‘It’s amongst your possessions out there, isn’t it? Along with your keys. So, did Becky know about these pictures being taken?’
‘No,’ he said hoarsely. He cleared his throat. ‘She was asleep.’
Pete leaned forward in his chair, leaving the screen as it was. ‘And did you take similar ones of Rosie when she stayed over? We’re still searching through Enstone’s computer.’
‘No.’
‘Funny thing is, that computer’s also given us a link back to your old stomping ground – Bath,’ Pete told him. ‘Do you know David Grover?’
Again, a frown flashed across Sanderson’s face, leaving his expression very slightly altered.
‘David Grover is another known paedophile,’ Pete said, hammering the point home. ‘Another man who exchanged images with Barry Enstone, like you did. Do you suppose, when my colleagues in Bath visit his home, they’re going to find images of Becky there? And possibly of the girl who was killed a few years back, when you were living there? And when my officers find your storage device, as they certainly will, are there going to be links to him on there? Maybe even pictures of Alison Stretton?’
Sanderson stayed silent, but Pete could
see the fear worming its way into his mind.
‘I’m fully aware of the things that go on in some of these images and films. I don’t have you pegged for that kind of thing, Neil, but there is a thing called guilt by association. And another called aiding and abetting after the fact. Which means, if you’ve got these pictures, if you’ve even seen them and not reported it, you’re as guilty of what happened in them as the blokes who did it. Whether it’s the girl in Bath or Rosie Whitlock, if you’ve got pictures of her, taken after her abduction, we can charge you as an accessory in that abduction and in whatever happens after it. You think about that and think through what’s on that storage device or spare computer back at home, Neil.’ Pete sat back once more, arms folded. ‘Then think about whether you want to talk to me and make some sort of deal, or whether you want to take the full brunt of the law.’ He sat and waited for what he’d said to sink in and have its effect on Sanderson.
There was obviously a whole range of degrees of paedophilia, a whole range of men who indulged in it and of reactions they might have to a given situation, but one thing could be relied on amongst almost all of them, Pete knew, and that was narcissism. The overriding need to look after themselves and their own interests. And everyone knew what happened to paedophiles in prison.
‘What is it that you want to tell me before I find it out for myself, Neil?’
Sanderson looked at him. ‘I don’t know anything about Rosie’s abduction. I don’t know who did it or why or where they took her. And nor do I know anything about what happened to Alison Stretton.’
‘But?’ Pete prompted.
Sanderson paused. Then he sighed. ‘Alright. I can give you links to the picture sources. Some of them, at least.’
Pete inclined his head. ‘Thank you.’
CHAPTER 28
Pete parked just short of the entrance to Risingbrook School and cut the engine. The houses across the road were detached 1920s mock-Tudor behind low brick walls surmounted by high hedges. Their entrances were paired in the same way that semi-detached properties would be. The pair he approached had wooden field-type gates and a low brick wall between them. He checked the numbers. The one he wanted was on the right. He entered, closing the gate behind him and approached the small porch. After ringing the bell, he stood back to wait.
‘Hello? Can I help?’
The voice came from his left. He looked across and saw a man in his fifties, dressed in a waxed jacket and flat cap, emerging from the garage next door.
‘I’m DS Gayle, from Heavitree Road CID.’ He showed the man his warrant card.
‘You’re looking for Ron? I’m afraid he’s away at the moment.’
‘Any idea when he’s due back?’
The man shook his head. ‘Sorry. He’s always flitting off somewhere or other. Work stuff, you know?’
Pete nodded. ‘I take it my colleagues have already spoken to you about what happened out here on Tuesday morning?’
‘That girl? Yes. Awful business. I didn’t see anything. I’m not usually here in the mornings.’
‘Oh?’
‘I generally go to my daughter’s. Look after the dog, you know? She works mornings at the cathedral, so I’m away from here about half-seven as a rule, to miss the school run. Bloody chaos, that is. She’s got a day off today. Her birthday. So I’ll be going round later, for a change.’
‘I see. Well, thanks for your help.’
‘He’s not often away over the weekend, Ron, so he might be back later today or in the morning.’
‘Great. If you see him, can you get him to give me a call?’
‘Yes, of course. DS Gayle, was it?’
‘That’s right. I’ll put my card through his door, but if you could give him a nudge too, that would be great.’
‘No problem.’
Pete took a card, wrote on the back of it: ‘Please call me ASAP. Any time.’ He pushed it through the letterbox then headed back to the car with a wave to the neighbour. ‘Thanks again, Mr . . . ?’
‘Taylor. Bill Taylor.’
‘Mr Taylor. Bye now.’ Pete stepped out onto the pavement and closed the gate behind him.
Back in the car, he called the squad room and got Dave Miles. ‘Dave. What’s new?’
‘Two new victims identified from Enstone’s computer files. You remember the Harvey girls, about eighteen months ago?’
‘From up north somewhere . . . Manchester, was it?’
‘Oldham.’
‘That’s it. What – they’re on there?’
‘Yep. Both of them. And we’ve got more pictures of our man from Swindon. Plus, I’ve got the footage from the bus company. It clearly shows Barry getting on the bus when and where we were expecting.’
‘Which corroborates his alibi.’
‘Yep.’
‘Well, keep looking, Dave. I’m going to the Sandersons’, to help Jane and Sophie.’
‘Right, boss.’
‘You and Jane did the canvassing of the houses round Risingbrook School between you, right?’
‘Yes.’
‘Which of you spoke to Bill Taylor, lives opposite the entrance?’
‘I did. Why?’
‘Just wanted to confirm he’s not in the frame, while I’m here.’
‘No. He was . . .’ Pete heard the rustling of paper over the line. ‘At his daughter’s. She confirmed his arrival there at ten to eight.’
‘OK. I was just talking to him. Chasing up on his next-door neighbour who hasn’t been spoken to yet.’
‘There was nobody in when I was there.’
‘He’s away. Due back today or tomorrow. I left a card.’
Dave laughed. ‘Yeah, me too.’
‘We’ll see if he calls either of us, then. See you later.’ Pete ended the call and started the engine. He stared at the red-brick school across the wide expanse of mown grass as he passed the gate. Three days, he thought. Three days and we’ve got exactly nowhere.
*
‘How are you doing?’
‘Nothing yet.’ Jane stepped back to allow Pete to come into the Sanderson house. ‘We’re still looking, but I’ve got to be honest, boss, we’re running out of places to look.’
Pete closed the door behind him. ‘All right, let’s apply a bit of logic. He’s got these files that, presumably, he doesn’t want the wife or the daughter to know about. He wants to keep them safe and hidden, but he wants access to them. So, if there’s no extra computer or tablet in the house – and if there was, I’m guessing you’d have found it by now – they must be on a storage device of some kind in easy reach of the computers we know about, yes?’
‘Yes. So we’ve searched the office, the main bedroom, and we’re in the spare room now.’
‘And nothing.’
‘That’s right.’
Pete ran his bottom lip across his teeth, barely aware that he was doing it. ‘OK, let’s see.’ He went into the family office and stood in the middle of the room, looking around. Shelves of books and files. Two desks and chairs. A filing cabinet. Framed pictures on the walls. ‘You’ve checked in the box-files?’
‘Yep.’
‘And all the books are actually books?’
‘Yep. We’ve had all of them down.’
‘The filing cabinet. Hanging files?’
‘Yes. We’ve checked in all of them too.’
‘And under them? In the bottom of the drawers?’
‘Yep.’
‘What about under the bottoms of the drawers? And those in the desks? Anything stuck to the undersides?’
‘Nothing. We thought of that too. And in the bedroom, in his bedside cabinet, the dresser and the chest of drawers. And, of course, we checked all the contents of the desk drawers and cupboards.’
Pete nodded, still looking around the room. Where else was there?
He sat at Sanderson’s desk, ran his fingers along the back of the combined printer and scanner. Nothing. A CD stacker stood in the corner, full of what appeared to be computer p
rogram CDs. He pointed at it and sent an enquiring look Jane’s way.
‘Yes, we checked them all. They are what they look like.’
He tilted his head in a shrug and turned back to the desk. If it wasn’t a separate computer, it had to be here. But where?
He sighed. Then, looking down, he noticed something. He pulled the central drawer of the desk part-way out and reached in with both hands, ignoring the contents as he felt along the underside of the desktop. There was a space about a centimetre deep that had, necessarily, to be clear of any of the drawer contents. A bit of Blu-tack, Velcro or double-sided tape and you had a prime place to stick a thumb drive or a CD.
But his fingers reached the edges of the drawer without finding anything.
He looked up at Jane, who nodded slowly.
‘Check the filing cabinet.’
As she moved to obey, he closed the drawer in front of him and opened the smaller one to the side of it. Reaching in, he felt across the underside of the desktop again.
‘Here,’ Jane said. ‘Nice one, boss.’
She lifted out a small, flat object, not much larger than a business card case and turned it in her hand. ‘Blimey. This little bugger holds a full terabyte.’ She handed it to him. He saw a small, round hole for the power cable and a USB port. ‘Where are the power adapters?’
‘Second drawer.’
Pete opened it and was met with a tangle of adapters and cables, a card reader and various other bits and pieces. He checked the little drive for a manufacturer’s name. Eventually, he found it in tiny print along the edge. Samsung. He began to search the drawer and found it almost at once. ‘Here we go.’
He scooted across to the other desk, where Geraldine Sanderson’s computer sat undisturbed. Powering it up, he plugged in the drive and connected it to the computer. The computer whirred for a moment, then the box came up in the centre of the screen: ‘Removable drive E’.
He opened it up.
‘Enter password’.
‘Shit.’
Pete looked over his shoulder. ‘Yeah. We’ll have to take it back to the station, see if he’ll give us the password or if we’ll have to get the tech boys at Middlemoor on to it.’