Burgone pulled her arm up. She dropped her cigarette. He ground both of them underfoot. ‘If we can access her account …’
‘Then we can pick up her GPS.’ They were running. Down the stairs. They burst into the office – she panting, Burgone fine. Everyone stared at them. Something was wrong. Where was Nas?
‘Jack …’ Chips came towards them, solemn. Freddie felt sick. Her outburst: what had he done to Lottie?
‘What is it – have you found her?’ Burgone’s voice grew anguished. It twisted inside Freddie.
‘No, nothing like that,’ Chips said quickly.
‘Then tell me later. We need to get onto FitSpo – it’s a smartwatch company. Lottie has one. It has a tracker in it.’
‘On it!’ Saunders shouted from the far desk. He was standing with his phone tucked between his ear and shoulder, and typing with a look of extreme concentration on his face.
‘Her route might be on her Facebook page. Some people share them automatically,’ Freddie said. Her heart was thudding. Chips was at the desktop.
‘This is DI Peter Saunders. I need to speak to your IT department now. It’s urgent. Thank you. I’ll hold.’
‘Nothing on her Facebook page that looks like it.’ Chips pressed his lips together.
‘My mother always moans about her doing it – she thinks running is unladylike,’ Burgone was gabbling. Pacing.
‘They’ve given me her login details!’ Saunders shouted. They crowded round his screen as he typed. The dashboard opened.
‘There – routes!’ Freddie pointed at the menu tab. This could be it. If the FitSpo had picked up Lottie’s GPS then it would know where she was. They could find her. They could save her. She looked at the time: just over ten hours to go. Her pulse increased.
Saunders clicked and scrolled. Each route was the same: a green line, wobbly, as if it had been hand drawn, snaking round Greenwich in a loop. ‘Looks like she ran the same route every day. These have been shared to Instagram,’ he said.
‘Stupid girl.’ Burgone’s voice was tight. ‘Anyone would know where to find her.’
‘Here, look.’ The last route started out like the others, before it veered off track. ‘That must be when he put her in the vehicle.’ The line veered right.
‘That’s the Blackwall Tunnel!’ Chips said.
‘He took the North Circular, then the M11,’ Saunders said, following the line as it snaked out of the city. And then it stopped.
‘Where’s that? Is that where she is?’ Freddie said. This was it. This was it!
‘It looks like it’s on the M11 – but just stops,’ Saunders said.
‘There’s nothing there.’ Chips was shaking his head. ‘After Loughton it’s just fields, pull it up on Google Earth. He must have realised. He tossed it.’
‘No,’ Freddie said. ‘No! She’s got to be there!’ Burgone sat heavily onto the chair.
‘We’ll call traffic. Get the helicopter and heat-seeking over there,’ Saunders said, squeezing Burgone’s shoulder.
‘Chips is right,’ Burgone said.
‘We’ll do it anyway,’ Saunders said. ‘If we find the watch it might have something forensics can use.’
‘He was headed for the M25,’ Chips said. ‘Let’s cross-reference this with what Green’s got on her list of names.’
Freddie stepped backwards from them. They were just going to give up. To stop. ‘What if she’s in one of those fields?’
‘She’s in a building,’ Chips said kindly. ‘We know that from the photo he sent. There’s nothing in that area it could be. But we’ll get the helicopter out – double check.’ It wasn’t fair. They’d been so close. ‘Look,’ Chips said gently. ‘I know Nasreen wanted you to look at the blown-up photo.’ Why did he call her Nasreen? He always called her Cudmore. ‘Why don’t you go help her with that? She’s in the meeting room.’
‘Are you trying to get rid of me?’
‘Have you seen what he sent?’ Chips asked. The text message. She scrabbled at her pocket, her fingernails catching on the hem.
‘What is it?’ Burgone said.
Chips’s face flushed. ‘It’s a personal email, Jack. Between you and the lass.’ The final dregs of colour in Burgone’s face drained away. Freddie was already out of the door, her phone shaking in her hand. Alex Black had lashed out at Nas and she was to blame.
Chapter 34
Wednesday 16 March
23:21
T – 10 hrs 19 mins
She had known something was off. Known there was something Nas wasn’t telling her. She’d called him Jack when they got the photo of Lottie – she would never normally use a superior officer’s first name. It all made sense now. Nas’s desperation over this case. The way she’d lost her cool. The way she’d gone rogue. Freddie had never been more proud of her in her life. The meeting room was empty, Nas’s jacket hanging forlornly over the back of the chair. Freddie knew where she’d be. It was easy to hide in a building where the majority of the staff were men. She pushed open the ladies’, bending down as she walked past the stalls. Only one was occupied and Freddie recognised Nas’s polished shoes. Spotless as ever. She leant back against the sink.
‘You can’t stay in here forever,’ she said. She heard Nas’s feet shuffle on the floor. But there was no reply. She waited. ‘I know it’s you, Nas.’ Nothing. She crossed her arms. This wasn’t the time for a pity party. They had just over ten hours to find Lottie. Sweat formed on her brow; she blew at it with her breath. They had to get back to it. ‘I can’t believe you slept with a public school boy! Bleurgh. Must have been like shagging the Chancellor of the Exchequer.’
There was a sigh. ‘I just need a minute.’
‘It’s not as bad as you think. I screwed my boss at work once. In the stationery cupboard. Two colleagues found us when they were looking for printer paper. No one blinked an eye.’ She had still been finding paperclips in her hair a week later.
‘This is the police, Freddie. It’s different. Superintendent Lewis bans relationships between colleagues.’
‘You’re not having a relationship. You had sex,’ Freddie said. ‘It’s not a big deal. People will judge you, but so what? They do that anyway.’ Nas emitted a small noise – something like a snort. ‘I bet Saunders had a field day.’
‘He was angry,’ she said.
‘I’m sure.’ He would’ve loved that. The perfect opportunity to stick the knife in. The guy was a musclebound Machiavelli.
‘Not like that. He was angry at him.’
‘Burgone? Did he think he took advantage – because reading between the lines in that email I would’ve said you were pretty up for it?’
‘Freddie!’ Nas flung the door open and glared at her.
‘You not going to flush?’ She raised an eyebrow.
‘I didn’t go.’ She stomped out and leant against the sink next to her, like she used to as a teen. ‘I meant he got angry at Alex Black. Saunders was furious because he said he was trying to divide and conquer. He was so caught up in that that I think he forgot about me.’ She turned and rinsed her hands under the tap. Apparently Nas’s hygiene standards were drummed into her hard.
‘He has a point,’ Freddie said. ‘Much as I hate to admit it.’
Nasreen sighed. ‘Everything’s such a mess. I can’t help thinking that if it wasn’t for me and Jack, then Lottie wouldn’t have been taken.’
‘Whoever’s done this has been planning it for ages. And she was already gone by the time you sent that email. You just gave him an extra tool to whack you with.’ Nas nodded, though Freddie knew she was trying to convince herself at the same time. She watched as Nas checked under her eyes for mascara. She looked tired. Freddie knew what a hypocrite she was being, given that she pretty much hadn’t left the house for the last three months, but she pushed on. ‘Hiding away won’t help anything. Lottie needs you.’ I need you.
‘What about Jack?’ Nas whispered. ‘I don’t want to get him into trouble.’
Freddie
looked in the mirror, using her nail to free a bit of food that was stuck between her teeth. ‘No one’s worrying about that now. We need to keep our eyes on Lottie. Don’t let this fucker win: he’s trying to derail you.’
‘I wish you hadn’t gone on the evening news.’ Nas shook her head.
‘Not my finest hour, admittedly. Another one to worry about later. We need to stay focused.’
‘Thank you.’ Nas looked at her as if it were just the two of them versus the world. ‘When did you get so clever, Freddie?’
‘I’m a late bloomer. Now, Chips said you wanted to show me some photos?’
Nas nodded her head. Looked once more in the mirror, and tugged the cuffs of her shirt sleeves down so they were straight. Ready.
‘Attagirl,’ said Freddie.
She glanced at her phone. Ten hours to go. Precious seconds were ticking by. Alex Black had successfully got under Nas’s skin. Destabilised her. Shaken the team. What more was he capable of? What else did he know? She thought of her fear in the car, when he’d known it was her posting on Are You Awake. She felt like they were being watched. Was he in their phones? Their emails? In here? She glanced behind her, as if a shadowy figure might be lurking in the corner. But the bathroom was empty.
Chapter 35
Wednesday 16 March
23:40
T – 9 hrs 50 mins
‘Pencils? Maybe? I don’t know. Sorry, Nas.’ Freddie handed the blown-up photo to her. It felt important, but she couldn’t work out what it was. Couldn’t see it. She rubbed her gritty eyes. It was twenty to midnight. Nine hours and fifty minutes left. They were into single figures. Nearly into the next day. Deadline day.
‘Worth a shot,’ Nas said. ‘We’re narrowing it down. The info you got from the smartwatch tells us which direction they were headed in. We know we’re looking for a building. Small. Disused by the looks of it, and Green’s working through the names she has on the list. The net’s closing in.’
Freddie looked at the time on her phone. But would it be quick enough?
‘I’m gonna take a break and grab a coffee. Do you want me to grab you one?’
‘Please,’ Freddie said. Her body was dog tired. Nas must be exhausted – she was doing all this on a hangover. ‘Do you want to grab a few minutes kip?’ She’d seen a couple of the officers curled up on chairs, under jackets. But she couldn’t stop. Couldn’t just lie down and go to sleep while Lottie was out there, her life ticking away. Saunders and Chips showed no sign of stopping, and she doubted Nas would either, but she had to ask.
‘I’ll stretch my legs and I’ll feel better,’ said Nas, picking her jacket back up.
‘You okay if I use your laptop?’ she asked. They were in a weird, standoffish place since they’d had their heart to heart in the toilets. Struggling to fit back into – what? The normal routine? She wondered if all female friendships were like this. Just as complex as those between romantic partners, with moods and rhythms, moments where you pulled together and moments when you fell apart. Apart from her relationship with her parents, Nas was by far the most continuous presence in Freddie’s life. They’d even weathered an eight-year ‘break’, after Gemma tried to kill herself and Nas had been homeschooled. But where there were countless articles on romantic relationship dos and don’ts, and how-to dating guides, there was nothing on friendships. They had so much history it dominated every space they stood in. Nas made her who she was. Freddie would go to the ends of the earth for her. She’d do more for Nas than she would for any man, regardless of how long she’d been shagging him. But she didn’t know if Nas felt the same. Or if it even mattered.
She typed in the address of Cynthia Warner’s blog and read the Alex Black page. It gave details of Are You Awake and what to do if photos of you were shared on it. The page also documented posts by Alex Black across the internet. It read like she was amassing a case file: compiling evidence. She leant towards the computer, feeling hope lift inside her. There was a huge amount of detailed work in here. It included a plea for more information.
Freddie clicked back to Are You Awake and typed in ‘Cynthia Warner’. Was she a victim herself? A number of hits appeared. No skin shots, but photos of what she assumed was Cynthia Warner’s face photoshopped onto images of Jabba the Hutt, hippopotamuses, slugs. There was a theme. There was also a link back to an MRA site, and an article called ‘Is Feminism Making Women Fat?’ which contained references to Cynthia Warner. Was it so personal because Cynthia was getting close? Her stomach fluttered in excitement: this woman could be the key to finding Alex Black.
Nas walked back in, holding two mugs. ‘You need to look at this. We should speak to this woman. She’s been monitoring Black for months. She might be able to identify him.’
‘Agreed,’ Nas said. ‘I’ll run it past Saunders and go call her.’
Freddie moved between Cynthia’s site and Are You Awake. Nas hadn’t mentioned the possibility of speaking to Apollyon since they’d been back. Everything had moved so quickly, had she just forgotten? The thought of her friend talking to that monster set her teeth on edge. Her chest compressed. There had to be another way. If they could trace Alex Black through this woman, Cynthia, then they could find Lottie. If there was a link, if the Hashtag Murderer was orchestrating this somehow, let them worry about it later. Let someone else talk to him. But the more she tried to reason with herself, the more she felt his grip, tightening over her ribs. Closing over her mouth. She shook herself. She had to stop this. She was tired: it was playing tricks on her mind.
The building had grown quiet over the last few hours. The majority of the workers had gone home. Where was that for her? Her parents’ house, steeped in its misery? Somewhere she had yet to find? She didn’t know anymore.
Nas leant into the room, making her jump. ‘Cynthia Warner’s on her way in. She’s based in London. A squad car’s picking her up from Islington.’
Freddie nodded. Took a moment to hope, pray, that this woman would hold the answer. That she would lead them to Lottie. Opening her eyes, she saw the steady stream of new comments on Are You Awake. Each sentence a line of hate. Each word a slap. It was time to stem the flow.
Chapter 36
Thursday 17 March
00:43
T – 8 hrs 47 mins
Nasreen was heading down to reception to collect Cynthia Warner. Morris stepped out of the gents and an ugly sneer spread across his face. ‘Can we all have a go, or do you only shag DCIs and above?’
Anger and shame burned through her. ‘Fuck off, Morris.’
‘Touchy!’ he laughed.
Pushing past him into the stairwell, she was relieved to find herself alone. She could punch Morris in his smug, disgusting face. Where was Jack? Was he angry? Upset? Did he blame her for the leaked email? This was a total disaster, and she hadn’t even had to face anyone senior yet.
It was Thursday. Deadline day. Under nine hours to go. Sliding ever closer to 9.30 a.m., when what was left of Nasreen’s life would be detonated. Lottie would be killed. Jack’s heart would break. Her heart would break. The horror of the situation threatened to rear up and throw her off course.
Cynthia Warner was standing in reception, a visitor lanyard round her neck. Short, with a wide torso, she was swathed in various dark layers of clothing. A large handbag hung from her shoulder and in a fabric shopper she had a collection of files tied together with what looked like red legal ribbon. Nasreen had taken some time to look into Cynthia and discovered she’d been arrested for breach of peace at a Greenham Common rally in the eighties. She’d not crossed paths with the law again, but Nasreen had noted a litany of campaigning causes across the woman’s social media – Amnesty International petitions and lots of articles from the New Statesman. She was the kind of busybody do-gooder that used to clog up her old station’s reception, shouting about parking rights. It would be like sitting in the room with two Freddies.
Nasreen touched her ID against the barrier. ‘Mrs Warner, I’m Sergeant Nasreen C
udmore, thank you for coming in so quickly.’ She held out her hand to shake.
Cynthia’s round face separated into an efficient smile as she dropped her phone in her bag and grabbed Nasreen’s hand with a force that belied her diminutive stature. ‘Ms Warner. Pleased to meet you, Sergeant Cudmore, I’m a big fan of your work.’
A fan? Her work? ‘I just do my job. Thank you.’
‘Nonsense.’ Cynthia whirled the lengths of fabric that hung from her and waddled towards the security barrier. ‘It’s vital that we have an increasing number of diverse faces representing the police force in this country. Time we broke down some of these barriers.’
Diverse? ‘My ethnicity has nothing to do with my placement in the force, Ms Warner.’
Cynthia turned and smiled warmly at Nasreen, her small rabbit eyes twitching. ‘Of course, dear. I’m just saying you’re a beacon. A role model. I did a talk at a school in Hackney the other week and showed them photos of you at the arrest of the Hashtag Murderer.’
Nasreen felt a chill go through her. The Apollyon Hashtag Murderer case had been front-page news for weeks. Her face, her photo and her actions had all been part of that. She still couldn’t get used to strangers who thought they knew her. Inwardly she groaned as she imagined what the Hackney kids had thought of this woman’s slideshow. ‘As I’m sure you’re aware, we’re working on a pressing case at this minute. Thank you for coming in so swiftly.’ She steered Cynthia Warner towards the lift.
‘That poor girl. I feared this would happen,’ Cynthia sighed.
Nasreen needed to stay away from the subject of Lottie. ‘We appreciate your discretion on this matter, Ms Warner.’ The doors opened. ‘If we could take a look at your research and ask you some questions about the suspect named Alex Black that would be great.’
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