Nasreen braced her hand against the glove box as Green braked sharply at a roundabout.
‘Sorry about that, I thought they were going. Think the blue lights panicked them.’
‘We’ll get them printed when we get to the station.’
‘He started it. The thread, I mean,’ Freddie said. They curved round the slip road and onto the M1. Thankfully the traffic was moving, things would be better now: a straight line. No stopping and starting. ‘And Lottie’s.’
‘Liam started the thread about Lottie as well?’ She’d given the website details and the name Liam to Chips. They’d soon know who owned the site, assuming it hadn’t been encrypted. It wasn’t a dedicated revenge porn site, or at least that didn’t seem to be its MO based on the threads she and Freddie had scrolled through. Finding out who this Liam was could be the first serious lead they’d had. Hiding her hunch from Saunders had been worth the gamble; she tried to stoke her resolve.
‘He hasn’t commented as many times as he has on the Chloe one – twenty-six times by my reckoning. But Lottie’s thread is more popular. It’s got over 2,000 comments. She’s Lottie Londoner isn’t she?’
Nasreen twisted to look at her. Another link? ‘You said you didn’t know the victim?’
‘I don’t. Not in real life. I did a piece once on the rising stars of Instagram. She was on the list.’
‘Right. Of course.’ That made sense. Last year Nasreen had read back through some of Freddie’s published articles: ‘Why You Should Send Your Used Tampons to the Chancellor of the Exchequer’. ‘Twenty Ways Your Best Friend at Twelve Will Always Be Your BFF’. That one had been about her: them. It made her uneasy that there was yet another connection between Freddie and Lottie and Chloe.
‘Can we have some music?’ Freddie asked.
‘Erm, yes. I suppose. Green, is that okay?’
The DC sighed and nodded.
‘How does this work?’ Nasreen pressed buttons and the radio blared into life. ‘Can’t Fight the Moonlight’ by LeAnn Rimes filled the car. ‘How’s that?’
‘Awful.’ Freddie wrinkled her nose. ‘Has this got Bluetooth?’
‘That’s your department, Green.’
The DC looked irritated, stabbing at the radio to silence it. ‘Yes.’
‘Aces! Got ya.’ Two pips, like the speaking clock, rang out through the speakers. And then a voice, a woman, husky, amused. We always thought that we were not a rock’n’roll band, but it sure feels like rock’n’roll – a laugh – over here tonight. And then the beat kicked in, filling the car with synth guitar. The staccato lyrics, rhythmic, like a chant: We don’t play guitars. Green tapped her finger against the steering wheel in time, an actual smile on her face.
‘Who’s this?’ Nasreen asked.
‘Chicks on Speed.’ Freddie was looking at the gathering warehouses that were starting to blur the edges of the countryside, marking the start of London. Had she really not been back since then? Freddie nodded her head in time to the track. It was shouty. Defiant. Infectious. Just what she needed. Nasreen let the song lift her, inflate her with confidence. They could do this. And then she looked at her watch. T – 17 hours 50 minutes.
Chapter 19
Wednesday 16 March
16:00
T – 17 hrs 30 mins
Freddie’s skin was alive, as if it were crawling with a thousand ants: they were in her hair, her nose, her mouth, she couldn’t breathe. A panic attack. Try to remain calm. What had her counsellor said? Acknowledge your feelings. Allow them to pass through you. Fuck that! Her hands groped for the switch to open the window. The car filled with the air and rush and noise of the motorway.
‘Freddie?’
It was the same voice that called to her that night. As her blood sprayed against the wall. She could see him: his face misted with her blood. He swung again. Again. She was going to die.
‘Freddie, you’re having a panic attack.’ Nas’s hair flew in the wind. Cars screamed past, shunting her from the past to now. To terror. Her ears would explode. Her head would explode.
Try to focus on Nas. Her smell. Clean. Soap. She grasped at the hand on her knee. Her prescription was on the bedside table. Had she taken it this morning?
‘Shall I pull over, ma’am?’ She’d forgotten Green.
What had happened? She must have fallen asleep. Did she dream, did she cry out? A jagged breath clawed its way into her lungs.
‘Do you want to stop, Freddie?’
She could see nothing but Nas now. Her head was tilted so the air from the open window pushed her dark hair streaming away from her face. Like she was standing on a beach. They’d been to the beach as kids. Staying in the Cudmores’ caravan. Huddled together in a single bed. Salt in the air. Her shoulders relaxed.
‘Freddie?’
The wind dropped: they were turning off the motorway. In her peripheral vision she saw three-storey Victorian terraces; trees, almost as old as the houses, thrusting up out of the pavement. They hadn’t even reached proper London yet. They were in the suburbs and she’d already freaked out. Weakening her grip on Nas’s hand, she felt a little squeeze in return. The frenzied gulps subsided.
‘Sorry.’ The words bruised. Her throat ached from the tension.
‘It’s okay.’ Nas’s professional voice was back, but she still looked worried.
Freddie nodded. Swallowed, trying to lubricate her throat. ‘I fell asleep. I think.’ Typical. She’d barely slept for weeks and now here, when she needed to be awake, alert, she’d managed to doze off. ‘Good timing, huh?’
‘Impeccable.’ Nas lifted her hand away from her knee, and with it any final lingering hints of the closeness of the past. ‘You sure you’re okay?’
Freddie remembered Green was in the car and felt her neck grow hot. How to make yourself look like a tool in front of the fuzz. ‘Fine. Sit down. Show’s over.’
Nas looked like she was going to say something, but thought better of it. She turned, sat back in her seat. She heard her exhale.
‘Not long now – ten minutes. Unless we need to stop? My partner gets panic attacks,’ said Green, twisting to look at her. Instead of the patronising look of victory Freddie had expected, she looked concerned.
‘I’m sorry to hear that, Green,’ Nas said.
‘Yeah, well, she’s got a stressful job,’ Green said.
Freddie tried to imagine Green consoling someone, comforting them like Nas had her. ‘She a cop as well?’
‘No, social worker,’ Green said.
‘Tough gig.’ It was weird to think of Green as a person outside of this nightmare, with a life, a home, a lover. Silence descended on the car, as if they were all trying to reposition after the fabric of reality had been torn with Freddie’s panic attack. It was too visceral. Tangible. It betrayed how fragile they all were. Reminded them of Lottie. Of her terror.
‘Do you believe Melisha didn’t know she was the cover story the night Chloe disappeared?’ she asked.
Nas stared ahead. She must have felt sick turning round to talk. ‘I can’t see why she’d lie about that.’
‘To keep out of trouble?’ Green suggested.
‘Chloe definitely lied about where she was going,’ Freddie said. ‘She planned it.’
‘Or she planned to stay somewhere else,’ Nas said.
The traffic was bunching up, vehicles pulling slowly, labouredly aside to let them and their blue flashing lights through. The buildings were growing bigger, the sky disappearing as they stretched upwards, flexing. ‘What did she take with her? Did she have overnight stuff?’
‘Nothing was found on her apart from her school bag,’ Nas said. ‘Her parents reported nothing was missing. Her toothbrush, her pyjamas, it was all still at home.’
‘She said she was staying at Melisha’s, but she didn’t take any things? And they didn’t notice?’ Her belt tightened across her as she leant forward to see Nas’s face.
Green muttered at the van in front of them that hadn’t pulled far en
ough over.
‘They’re good parents,’ Nas said too quickly. Her fingers were still drumming against her knee, as if she were counting the beat.
Were they? They hadn’t noticed Gemma was distressed eight years ago. Perhaps they didn’t pay enough attention to their children.
‘Both her mum and dad left for work before she left for school, according to their statement.’
Nas’s phone sounded and Freddie felt hers vibrate in her hand.
‘It’s a Snapchat notification,’ said Nas, pulling her phone from her pocket and catching her eye.
‘Is it another message?’ Green didn’t take her eyes from the road. ‘What is it?’
Freddie’s mouth was stripped dry; her ribs tightened around her, threatening to drag her back under. She wanted to get out the car. To get away. To run. Not to look, not to see. It was a video clip. Across it was a banner message: Watch me. She fought to keep control of her breathing, her whole body shaking as she stared at the screen. The camera adjusted to the same dark room as before, focusing on Lottie’s flash-lit face. Bleached white. Terrified. Gagged. She was frantically struggling, twisting from side to side. Freddie felt the floor fall away as a gloved hand appeared in the shot, a long silver knife glinting in the light. No!
‘Oh my god!’ Nas cried.
‘What is it? Shit – there’s nowhere to pull over,’ Green said.
Freddie’s heart was in her mouth, battering against her teeth as the knife moved towards Lottie. This couldn’t be happening. She couldn’t be watching this. Lottie was screaming under the tape. Her face stretched in anguish. Freddie wanted to look away as a second gloved hand grabbed Lottie by her hair, yanking her towards the camera. No. The knife blazed like lightning as it swung down towards the captive girl. And the feed cut out. Freddie’s mind fought to process what it was seeing. Lottie bleached, terrified, gagged, desperate, trying to escape, the knife flashing through the air – cut. Terror. Desperate. Knife. Cut.
‘Jack can’t see this!’ Nas was saying.
‘Can we copy the video?’ Green shouted.
‘There’s an app – I don’t have it!’ Nas was screenshotting the video again and again, as the counter wound down. ‘We need to get back to the office now. The tech lads might be able to retrieve this.’
Freddie was aware of the car lurching forward, that she was being thrown from side to side, that they were powering through the streets. Someone was speaking, their voice trembling, jerky, the words difficult to make out. It was her. She was talking. As the buildings of Westminster rose either side of them, the same question fell from her like tears: What happened after the camera cut?
Chapter 20
Wednesday 16 March
16:20
T – 17 hrs 10 mins
‘Is she dead?’ Freddie kept saying it. She was pale with shock.
Nasreen didn’t know the answer. She kept a hand on Freddie’s back, feeling her shivers, steering her through the double-height reception. The knife sweeping towards Lottie played on loop in her mind. Watch me: that’s what the message had said. The perp had given them a show.
Green was in front of them, quiet following the video. Chips knew they were on their way up. They’d received the message too: Chips, Saunders, Burgone. The thought of Jack seeing that, of what he must be imagining right now, bit into her and clamped on. It was even more important to have Freddie here now. She’d tell them Freddie had been sent the messages too. That this was linked to the Hashtag Murderer case; that the person who had Lottie wanted them all to watch.
Green reached the bulletproof glass security doors that shielded the offices from the reception. She handed her warrant card over to the guard, glancing back to give Nasreen a worried look. Green buttoned her suit jacket before she was waved through the metal detector. As if neatening herself might make sense of the situation.
‘Freddie, I need you to listen to me. Are you okay to do this?’ She couldn’t have Freddie going to pieces. Whoever had Lottie was toying with them. ‘If you’re not strong enough – mentally – then no one will blame you …’
‘I’m okay.’
Her eyes were glassy and her skin felt cold as Nasreen placed a hand on her arm. ‘I can’t have you having a panic attack in front of Saunders or Chips.’
‘Harsh, Nas.’ Freddie’s eyes met hers for the first time since the car. It was a good sign.
‘I know you haven’t had any relevant training.’
‘There’s training for getting a video like that?’ Freddie looked incredulous.
Fair point. ‘No, not exactly. But I need to know that if it comes down to it, you won’t fall apart.’ She meant it. This investigation wouldn’t make collateral damage of Freddie. Nasreen would keep her safe. Keep her close. ‘I need to know you can cope with this.’
‘You need to work on your trust issues.’ Freddie was warming up, getting angry again. That was good. That was normal.
‘We need to make sure we handle this properly. I need you to watch what you say. In fact, let me do the talking. DI Saunders will not be thrilled you’re here.’
‘DI Saunders hasn’t met me yet,’ Freddie shrugged.
Nasreen tried to imagine what Saunders, with his tailor-made suits and pressed shirts, would make of Freddie’s frayed jumper and scuffed boots. ‘That message wasn’t a ransom note – whoever made it wanted us to see what they were doing to Lottie. They wanted us to watch. You included.’
‘Do you think she’s … still alive?’
Before she had to answer, a voice called from reception. ‘DS Cudmore?’ Lorna was sitting behind the huge curved desk, waving like they were old friends.
She forced a smile in return, pulling Freddie with her. ‘Lorna, I need to sign in Freddie Venton. She’ll need a security pass to get upstairs. She’s working as a consultant on an active case.’
‘Oh, of course.’
Nasreen watched Lorna’s delicate fingers fly over the keyboard. The printer whirred into life and the girl leant down to pull a strip from the machine.
‘Is there any news on DCI Burgone’s sister?’ Lorna’s eyes were wide with concern as she slid the printed strip into a plastic lanyard for Freddie.
Freddie tensed next to her. Don’t give anything away. Case details weren’t to be discussed with civilians. ‘Nothing yet.’
Lorna gave a little shudder and rallied herself. ‘I’ll need you to sign in please, ma’am.’
Freddie caught the vase of lilies on the reception with her elbow as she reached for the pen. ‘Sorry.’ She was too antsy. She scribbled her signature and looked up at the girl. As if she were trying to root herself in the room. She knew how she felt. ‘You look familiar. Have we met before?’
‘I don’t think so.’ Lorna looked from Freddie to Nasreen, as if it might be a trick question.
‘You need to wear this.’ Nasreen gave the lanyard to Freddie. ‘At all times.’
‘Got it!’ Freddie snapped her fingers and Lorna jumped. Nasreen wished she would shut up. They were wasting time they didn’t have. ‘You look like that YouTuber!’
‘Oh no,’ Lorna blushed. ‘I get that a lot though. I know the one you mean.’
She cut over Freddie’s nervous yammering. ‘Do you have a message for me, Lorna? You called me over?’
‘Oh yes! That’s right.’ The girl smiled. ‘Not a message – a package.’ She spun her chair to pick up a large white box from behind her.
Alarm flooded through her. She wasn’t expecting anything. No one other than the team knew she worked at this address. You couldn’t receive things at work. She hadn’t even told her parents what road the office was on. Could the person who’d been clever enough to snatch Lottie without anyone seeing, tenacious enough to source the private numbers of the team, wily enough to evade detection by the tech lads, be capable of finding the office? What happened after the video cut?
Lorna turned round, holding the box. It was basketball sized. Wrapped completely in masking tape. Watertight. On on
e side were printed words that rooted Nasreen to the floor. It must have showed on her face.
‘What’s wrong?’
‘I need you to put that down very carefully, Lorna.’
Freddie stepped away from the desk.
‘What is it?’ Lorna’s lip trembled.
Without taking her eyes from the girl she activated her radio. ‘This is Detective Sergeant Nasreen Cudmore. We have a State 14. Suspect package delivered to reception.’
‘Oh my god,’ Lorna’s face was ashen.
‘It’s from them,’ Freddie gasped.
‘Lorna, I need you to very carefully place the package down on the desk in front of you.’ Nasreen was aware of noise around her. The fire alarm began to scream. An evacuation.
‘Help me!’ Lorna said.
‘Please make your way quickly and calmly from the building,’ the security guard boomed.
‘You’re okay, Lorna, you’re doing great. Just put it down – that’s it.’ The girl’s hands were shaking. Nasreen braced. It could be a bomb, or chemical. ‘Freddie, I need you to go outside.’
‘I’m not leaving you.’
Watertight. Blood-tight. What had happened after the camera had cut? What was in the box? They had to preserve any evidence – if it wasn’t about to blow them all sky high. ‘That’s it. Good girl.’
Lorna put the box down, her fine fingers juddering. Nasreen braced. Nothing happened. Lorna looked like she might cry. If it was an explosive device, it could still trigger. If it was biological, she could have been contaminated. ‘I need you to not touch any part of yourself. Can you do that?’ The girl nodded. ‘You’re okay. I just need to get you checked over first, all right? Paramedics will be here soon.’
In the corner of her eye she saw the glass door to the offices swing open. The bulk of Chips running towards them. ‘Cudmore?’
The security guard blocked him. ‘Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to step outside.’
Watch Me Page 12