He smiled, a flash of teeth against a dark face, and for a moment Kevin thought it was going to be all right. Thought they’d done whatever it was they’d come to do and they would leave him now. Then he saw the knife in the other man’s hand and knew they hadn’t finished at all. He knew they’d only started.
The man lifted the knife and with blinding, horrible clarity, Kevin knew what they were planning and why they’d pulled his trousers down.
He opened his mouth to scream but a hand clamped over his mouth, blocking any sound.
18.59
‘What’s that noise?’
Ellen stopped, holding up her hand as Abby started to speak.
‘Shhh,’ she said. ‘I heard someone screaming. Listen.’
‘Nothing,’ Abby said after a moment. ‘Seriously, Ellen. You’re imagining it.’
‘I didn’t imagine anything,’ Ellen said. ‘Strange. Probably a fox or something. Loads of them around this part of London.’
‘Foxes?’ Abby asked. ‘Why would a fox choose to live here in the city, surrounded by people?’
Ellen shrugged. ‘People mean food, I guess. As far as I know they live off all the stuff we throw away – leftover food, that kind of thing.’
‘Poor little things,’ Abby said. ‘Driven out of the countryside by all that fox hunting, I wouldn’t wonder.’
‘I don’t think that’s the reason,’ Ellen said. ‘Besides, fox hunting’s illegal. Or didn’t you know that?’
Before Abby could answer, a loud noise ripped through the air. This time there was no mistaking the sound. A man roaring a girl’s name.
‘Molly York!’
‘What the …?’ Abby began, but Ellen had already grabbed her arm and was dragging her forward. They were almost at Dallinger Road. The journey from Blackheath had taken longer than expected. There were no taxis about and the minicab office near Blackheath train station had no cars for another hour so Abby and Ellen had been forced to walk, after all.
Ellen pointed to a narrow lane, leading off the main road, a few yards in front of them.
‘It came from down there,’ she said. ‘I’m sure it did. Come on. Quick.’
They raced forward. Ellen could make out the outline of two or three figures. One of them was crouched on the ground but as she watched, the person – a man? – seemed to pull himself off the ground until he was standing.
As her eyes adjusted, she saw there were three people. One of them was being held between the other two and appeared to be struggling.
The voice she’d heard earlier kept running through her head as she inched her way down the lane towards the silhouetted figures. Molly York. Is that what he’d really said or had she only imagined it?
The closer she got, the clearer the outlines became and when she finally worked out what was in front of her, she reacted automatically.
‘Police!’ she shouted at the top of her voice. ‘Freeze! Nobody move. Do not move!’ she added as the hulking figure in front lifted his arm. Her legs turned to jelly when she saw what was in his hand.
‘Drop your weapon.’ She inched forward. Without needing to check, she could sense Abby beside her, moving when she did, stopping when she did, following her every move.
Behind the giant, another voice spoke. ‘Put it down, Frankie.’
Ellen peered through the darkness. ‘Mr York? Rob? Is that you?’
She took another step forward and the stench of fresh urine hit her. She was now close enough to see the three men more clearly and she didn’t like what she saw.
She felt Abby’s hand on her arm, warning her, but she shrugged it off and rushed forward, her only thought to help the poor creature being held. She had nearly reached him when, out of the corner of her eye, she saw the giant man moving towards her. She tried to duck, but he was too quick for her.
His arm swung down, hitting the side of her head. As she crashed to the ground, she reached out, still trying to save Kevin Hudson. But he seemed, suddenly, too far away. A great shadow appeared over her. She tried to pull herself up but he kicked her in the stomach, knocking her back again.
She lay there, unable to move, struggling to get her breath back. He moved towards her again. She screamed as he grabbed her around the neck, squeezing tight, making it impossible for her to breathe. She tried to fight him off, but he was too strong. Her fingers grappled uselessly with his huge hand. She felt her body slipping away from her and no matter how hard she tried, there was nothing she could do to stop it.
19:08
Through the window, I can see there’s a big moon. The window’s my only way of knowing when it’s night time. Outside, I can hear the rumble of a train. I hear trains going by a lot.
I’m really cold. Shivering. And my teeth are chattering. I want Mum. I think of how warm she’d make me, cuddling up to me on the bed, telling me how much she loves me. And thinking all that makes me cry, even though I thought I’d cried so much there was nothing left. You could cry enough to fill a river or a sea and there’d still be more tears left over.
There’s this programme Finlay used to watch. Some sort of cartoon with a dog. I hated it, but sometimes I’d pretend to watch it just so I could sit beside him. He was always nice to me then and we’d snuggle on the sofa, watching the dog do stupid things. In one episode, the dog was in a desert and he was walking for miles and kept on saying: ‘water, water. I need water.’
Finlay kept laughing and I laughed too, even though I couldn’t see why it was meant to be funny but I knew if I asked Fin, he’d be mean to me. And I’m only thinking of that now because I know just how that dog must have felt. Even though there’s no desert and no sun here. Even though it’s the opposite of warm.
I keep thinking where can I get water and I can’t think of anywhere. But then I get an idea. It’s a bit disgusting, but I’m so desperate I don’t care. I get out of the bed, keeping the quilt wrapped around me because it’s so cold.
There’s a tank thing on top of the loo where the water’s kept. I can’t remember what it’s called, but I’m thinking the water in that should be clean enough. I flush the toilet four times first. Each time I wait till the tank is full before pressing the handle again. I’m a bit worried Brian will hear so I’m ready to run back to the bed if I have to, but nothing happens. No footsteps or anything.
The lid of the cistern – cistern! – is really heavy but I can drag it enough so that there’s room to dip my fingers into the water. Oh God. The first drops land on my tongue and it’s such a good feeling. It tastes fine so I go again, only this time I cup my hands and fill them with water. It goes everywhere but I’m drinking and it’s amazing.
When I’ve had enough I get the lid back into place and race back to bed. I curl into the tightest ball, trying to keep warm. I squeeze my eyes closed and pretend I’m at home, in my own bedroom at the back of the house.
It’s not that hard to imagine that’s where I am. After a while, I even start to think I can hear Dad, breathing in that heavy, nearly-snoring way he has. And Fin, moving around in his room next door.
Outside, an owl hoots. I imagine it flying around out there, big wings flapping as it swoops over the fields looking for mice and things to eat. And I imagine then that I’m flying too, floating in the clouds. It’s a nice feeling. I try to hold onto it.
19:18
‘I’ve given him a sleeping pill and put him to bed,’ Helen said, coming into the sitting room. She sat down heavily on an armchair and looked at Ellen and Abby.
‘What the hell happened out there?’ she asked.
Her voice was slightly slurred, as if she’d been drinking. And she looked so lost, Ellen thought, like a child.
‘There were two of them,’ Abby said. ‘Difficult to ID, that’s the problem. Even with the moon it’s still dark out there. One of them was big, though. The one who … well, he was big. Scary big.’
Ellen thought of the knife the big man had been holding, and what he’d been planning to do with it. The memory o
f Kevin with his trousers bundled around his ankles, the air full of the smell from his emptied bladder – it wasn’t something she would forget.
She touched the side of her face where she’d been hit. It hurt like hell. Her head felt unbalanced, as if the injured side was somehow heavier than the other.
‘Do you need ice for that?’ Helen asked, seeming to notice Ellen’s face for the first time.
Ellen shook her head. The movement caused another wave of pain, and she wished she hadn’t.
‘It’s fine,’ she lied.
She glanced over at Abby. ‘I still don’t understand how you managed to take on the two of them.’
Abby blushed. ‘I didn’t have to do anything. They just ran off. The big guy, he, one minute he was attacking you, the next, the other guy was pulling him off and they pushed past me and ran off. I should have stopped them. I tried but …’
Ellen frowned, trying to recall pieces of what had happened. She could remember being hit, and kicked. Abby’s voice, shouting something about assaulting an officer of the law. Had she really said that?
Then she remembered something else. Rob York. York and Hudson – was there something she’d missed? Unless she’d been mistaken …
‘Did you hear him?’ she asked Abby. ‘One of them. He shouted something about Molly York.’
‘I really couldn’t say,’ Abby said. ‘I’m sorry. It all happened so quickly.’
A moment later, when she lifted her mug of tea to take a sip, Ellen noticed Abby’s hands were shaking. Poor kid. Dealing with an alley fight probably wasn’t a standard part of a FLO’s working day. Mind you, she’d handled herself well out there. Ellen was impressed.
Outside, in the hallway, Ellen could hear the hum of voices as Malcolm briefed the uniforms. Another door-to-door was underway to try to find out if anyone had seen the two men who’d assaulted Kevin. So far, there was no sign of Baxter. Small mercy but better than none, Ellen supposed.
She went into the hallway and caught Malcolm’s eye.
‘Got a moment?’ she asked.
When he came over, he looked scared. She didn’t blame him.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I shouldn’t have lost my temper. I know it wasn’t your fault.’
Malcolm shook his head. ‘No. You were right, Ma’am. I should have stopped him from going out. It’s just, I heard him at the door and was coming out to stop him, but then Abby called and I thought that might be more important so I took the call instead. By the time I’d finished with Abby, Kevin was already gone. I did look for him on the street, but there was no sign.’
‘It doesn’t matter,’ Ellen said. ‘Anything back from uniform yet?’
‘Nothing,’ Malcolm said. ‘But we’ll keep trying.’
Back in the sitting room, Abby was asking Helen about Kevin.
‘Where was he going, Helen?’ Abby asked.
Helen’s eyes dipped away, refusing to make contact with Abby or Ellen. Hiding something. Ellen caught Abby’s eye and the FLO nodded. She’d spotted it as well.
‘Helen?’
‘He had to go out,’ Helen said. ‘Told me he was meeting someone, but wouldn’t tell me who.’
Ellen sat on the sofa beside Abby and looked directly at Helen.
‘I don’t believe you.’
Helen’s eyes widened. ‘I’m sorry?’
Ellen shrugged. ‘You heard me. You’re hiding something. And here’s the thing, Helen. If you’re holding out on us, then whatever it is you’re not telling us, it might help us find Jodie. How do you think you’re going to feel if we can’t find her because of something you haven’t told us?’
‘You don’t know what you’re talking about,’ Helen whispered.
‘Helen,’ Abby’s voice was soft, persuasive. ‘If Kevin’s done something, you have to tell us. Better out than in – there’s a reason people say that, you know.’
Helen’s eyes filled with tears and when she looked up, Ellen knew she’d made her mind up. Whatever secret her husband was hiding, Helen would tell them. Well done, Abby.
‘He should never have gone to prison,’ Helen said. She stood up. ‘I’m sorry. If I’m going to do this, I need a drink. Can I get something for either of you?’
At the same time as she said this, the doorbell rang. Helen rushed to answer it.
Ellen followed her into the hallway, just in time to see Helen pulling open the door. Behind Helen, Ellen saw Baxter, framed in the doorway.
Helen gasped. ‘You’ve found her?’
Baxter shook his head and pushed past Helen, into the hallway, Raj Patel close behind him.
‘This isn’t to do with Jodie,’ Baxter said. ‘Where is he?’
‘Ed.’ Ellen stepped forward. ‘Kevin’s not well. The attack, it was pretty brutal. He needs rest.’
Baxter turned to Raj. ‘Upstairs, Detective’ he said. ‘You heard her.’
‘Please,’ Ellen said. ‘Can’t this wait?’
She caught Raj’s eye and he looked away, obviously embarrassed to be caught in the middle.
Baxter pushed past Ellen, headed for the stairs.
‘Come on, Patel. No time to lose.’
19:22
Upstairs, Kevin wasn’t sleeping. Helen had made him take a sleeping pill, but he’d slipped it under his tongue without swallowing it. He needed to be alert, work out what had happened tonight, and why. Finlay was still in his bedroom, TV blasting out as he tried to block out the real world. Kevin was glad the boy hadn’t seen the state of him when the two investigators had brought him back. Despite his best efforts, his mind kept revisiting that moment, when he’d realised what the men were planning to do to him. In the bed, he shivered and drew his arms tight around his body, trying to shut the memory from his mind.
The thing was, he’d recognised the voice. Not the big fella but the other one. The one who’d held him. It was the same man he’d spoken to on the phone. The man had a raspy voice that sounded as if too many cigarettes had done permanent damage to his vocal chords. It was the same voice that had roared out that name – Molly York.
After Helen went back downstairs, Kevin had sat here in the bed, repeating the name to himself. Molly York. The little girl who’d disappeared three years ago. When the men had grabbed him, he thought he knew what they were about. They were mates of Harris. The people who’d made the phone call. They didn’t want to talk to him. They wanted to punish him.
Except then they’d started going on about something else entirely and Kevin thought they were the ones who’d made the mistake. He shook his head. It wasn’t that simple, though. If they thought he was someone else, why had they made the call?
He remembered something else. Something Kelly had shouted when she found him. Kevin threw back the duvet and got out of the bed. He needed to go downstairs, talk to her right now.
He grabbed some clothes off the chair and got dressed, the pain in his side slowing everything down. Every move was torture. He was at the bedroom door, ready to go downstairs when the doorbell rang. Automatically, he shot forward, his mind instantly focussed on Jodie.
Then he heard Baxter’s voice, telling Helen that wasn’t why he was here and for a moment Kevin’s body stopped working. The sudden rush of adrenalin subsided and he felt as if every last bit of energy had been squeezed from his body and he didn’t even have enough left to keep his heart beating or his lungs breathing.
Bits of the conversation in the hallway drifted up to where he stood. It was difficult to hear what they were saying with Finlay’s TV in the background, but he could make out the gist of it. Enough for him to know that Baxter wasn’t here to see how Kevin was doing after the attack.
Baxter sounded serious and Kevin knew, with dull certainty, how it would play out. They would take him in for questioning. Then, once it was clear Baxter knew what Kevin had been doing the morning Jodie disappeared, that would be the end of it. They’d lock him up again.
Down below, Helen was asking Baxter to let her explain. But he was
ignoring her. Telling someone to move upstairs.
Kevin moved across to the sash window overlooking the garden. He heard footsteps on the stairs and pushed open the window. Moving as fast as he could. Ignoring the screaming pain in his side. Down below, he could make out the shapes of the garden furniture that Helen had been nagging him for months to dismantle and put away, insisting the wood would be ruined from the damp and the cold.
Glad he hadn’t already done that, Kevin slid his body out the window. Not letting himself think about what he was doing, he pushed himself away from the window frame and jumped towards the solid wooden table beneath him.
22:15
‘Marion?’
He stood outside, branches brushing the top of his head and the sides of his face, waiting for her to answer. When there was no sound, he pulled back the bolts, opened one of the doors and peered inside.
She was curled up on the bed, her back to him, completely still.
‘Marion!’ He leapt towards her.
She jumped up and started scrabbling away from him, until her little body was pressed against the wall. He felt a momentary wave of relief when he saw her tear-streaked face and realised she’d only been crying. Not dying, like he’d first thought.
Then he tensed again, watching the way she cowered away from him. He moved forward, making sure to keep his voice calm and quiet.
‘It’s okay, Marion, I’m not going to hurt you. I just want to check you’re okay. That’s all. You gave me a right fright lying there like that, making those funny noises.’
He sat down on the bed and put his hand on her knee. She whimpered and tried to pull her leg away, but he increased the pressure until she stopped wriggling. Her skin against his palm felt warm and soft. It was nice and she shouldn’t be so difficult. All he was doing was looking after her. Why did she have to give him such a hard time?
She was scared. It wasn’t fair. There was no need to be scared. He’d never hurt her. Not like Daddy, who’d done terrible things to all of them. He wanted to give her a hug, tell her not to worry about a thing and that she was safe now. Except the way she was acting, if he tried to hug her she’d probably start screaming or something. It was a bad business altogether and he wished Mum was here. She’d know what to do.
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