Except for the bulky blue sleeping bag that lies next to me. Instinctively I back away from it, then stop. This is what I came for. The bag is drawn tightly at the top and slowly I reach out my fingers towards it. Everything is telling me not to do it and yet I find myself picking at the knot, eventually loosening the string and opening up the mouth of the bag. I know what I’m expecting to find here but still it takes my breath away. Jaz’s lifeless eyes stare up at me. She looks white, waxy, but strangely at peace. If you can ignore the livid bruising around her neck. I lie there looking at her, our noses just a few inches apart.
I want to cry for her – for myself, for all of us – but I’m not afforded that luxury. Suddenly the van lurches to a halt and the engine is killed. I hear the driver’s door slam and now I’m scrabbling for cover. I can hear the handle opening and I pull a dustsheet over me, curling myself up into a ball. Now the van sags as the driver climbs into the van. He moves towards me and suddenly I feel him press down on my ankle with all his force. I go to cry out in pain, but bite my fist just in time. Seconds later the pressure is released, as he circles the sleeping bag. I’m sure I’m not fully covered and I’m probably shaking like a leaf, but he appears not to notice. I hear him haul the sleeping bag towards the back of the van and moments later, a dull thump as it hits the ground outside.
Slowly I peel off the dustsheet. I hear the body being dragged away, my attacker cursing under his breath as he drags his heavy load. I crawl to the door and peek out. It’s pitch dark but a couple of large security lights illuminate the gruesome midnight scene. My heart sinks as I take it in. We are at a landfill site.
He’s fifty yards from the van now, nearing the edge of a large pit. He pauses now, fiddling with the drawstring at the top. Has he noticed that it is now untied? I don’t wait around to find out. Slipping out of the van, I make for a large, dog-eared sofa nearby and take cover behind it. Minutes later, he strides past again, heading back to the van. I stay where I am, remaining there even when the van is long gone. I’m too scared to move and something compels me to stay in this terrible place anyway.
The last resting place of two innocent girls.
Chapter Fifteen
I’ve been walking round the streets for nearly an hour when a car approaches. I don’t know Basingstoke at all – I’ve no idea where I am in relation to Grove House – but the driver soon puts me straight, pointing me in the right direction. He seems intrigued as to why I’m out and about in my pyjamas and offers to give me a lift home, but I thank him and head on my way. I don’t trust him – don’t trust anyone any more – and besides, I need to be by myself.
As I plod slowly towards the town centre, I try and process what has happened. How can anyone be so cruel, so careless of human life? These girls had come here for their protection but instead had been abused, humiliated and finally murdered. Do they do it for kicks or just to avoid awkward questions being asked about the girls’ pregnancies? No doubt Jaz’s disappearance will be dismissed as another teen runaway and the world will carry on about its business as usual.
Should I go to the police? Would they believe me if I did? They’ve probably got me marked down as a liar now. Even if they did believe me, would they be able to protect me? Suddenly it feels to me like the whole world is in on the joke, like no one would hear me if I screamed my head off, so I walk straight past the police station and carry on. I liked officer Simmons, but I’m not even sure of her any more.
When I get back to Grove House, they are waiting for me.
‘Where the fuck have you been?’ Carole demands, pinning me up against the wall. I can smell whisky on her breath.
‘For some fags. I ran out, so I went to the all night garage?’
‘In your pyjamas?’
‘Like I give a fuck.’
‘You couldn’t wait until morning.’
‘You try sleeping in the dorm with Denise’s snoring. No way I was going to sleep anyway …’
I say it casually and dismissively, but I can smell Carole’s suspicion. She doesn’t want to believe I saw anything incriminating, but needs to know. She asks me a few more questions and I bat them away as best I can, before eventually she lets me go. She looks more battered than I do.
‘Piss off back to bed then. You’ll need to be up early for the toilets. One of the girls has made a terrible mess in there.’
I walk back to my dorm, seething with anger. How can she joke after what she’s just done? I want to cry out, to tell someone. But who would I tell here? Part of me wants to run, but where would I go? As I sit and cry on my bed, I finally realize how Marianne must have felt. The crushing sense of despair. The feeling that the walls are closing in. And that searing, righteous anger. That desire to destroy, destroy, destroy …
And in that moment, I know what I must do.
Chapter Sixteen
It sickens me to the stomach, but the following day I make a start.
‘I’m sorry I was out after hours and it won’t happen again.’
Carole’s not expecting an apology and at first she looks confused. Then she sees I mean it and starts to enjoy herself, making me grovel, as she publicly humiliates me. She sends me away with a flea in my ear, ordering me to work harder. And in the days that follow I do just that. The toilets, the dorms, the kitchen have never been so spick and span and slowly it seems to have an effect. Carole still regards me suspiciously, but the violence eases off and occasionally she even attempts humour. If I didn’t know better, I’d say she was beginning to like me.
‘What’s your game, little chick?’ she asks one day, as she watches me scrub the canteen floor.
‘Stuck here, aren’t I?’ I say, not looking up.
‘So you are,’ she replies with relish.
‘Gotta make the best of it, haven’t I?’ I continue, looking up at her this time. ‘The other girls may be crybabies and sad sacks, but not me.’
‘Want to be Queen Bee, eh?’ she says, a gleam of understanding appearing in her eyes now.
I nod and Carole smiles at me. She rises, running her hand across the back of my neck in a grim parody of affection.
‘Well just you keep at it, little chick. All good things come to those who wait.’
Two days later, I see Daniel Lang in her office, chatting amiably about this and that. And then I know that Carole will be as good as her word.
Chapter Seventeen
The days tick by without any developments. Have I misjudged it? Overplayed my hand? Then just as I’m beginning to despair, it happens. Carole sidles up to me as I head back to my dorm for the night and tells me to be in the basement in one hour. She and some friends are having a little ‘party’.
I borrow a mini-skirt and low-cut top from Alexis, finishing off the look with a suede waistcoat that lies on the floor unclaimed. An old lipstick that used to belong to Jaz is secreted beneath my pillow and I pull it out now. My hand shakes as I apply it. I could do with some foundation to hide how pale my face is, but make-up is jealously guarded in this place, so I’ll have to manage without. I clock Alexis watching me as I sneak out of the dormitory. She has barely said two words to me the whole time I’ve been here, but tonight she looks sad.
My feet drag as I walk down the corridor. I try to be brave, but my body is fighting me, as if it knows what awaits me in that basement. I take the final few steps slowly, trying to regulate my breathing. Then I knock gently. Seconds later, Carole opens the door and beckons me inside.
The door shuts gently behind me. I’m immediately struck by the strong smell of skunk and the empty bottles on the table. Vanilla Ice plays in the background. I take in my surroundings. Dim lighting, fetid sofas and a couple of guys you’d cross the street to avoid. The van driver and a new one – though there is no sign of Lang, which concerns me. Where is he?
I’m offered vodka. It’s so cheap and raw it makes me cough. The van driver offers me a pill, but I look him in the eye and tell him I’d like to be conscious this time. I’m trying my bes
t to flirt, but I don’t really know how. It seems to have the required effect however. He guides my hand to his groin. Suddenly I lose my nerve. This is happening quicker than I thought it would. He raises his hand to my face, then suddenly checks himself. The door clicks open and all heads turn. But it’s only Lang.
‘Haven’t missed anything, have I?’ he says cheerily.
I take the opportunity to break away from my molester.
‘Anybody mind if I change this music? This stuff is lame.’
Mirthless smiles from everyone present, but nobody stops me. So I eject the tape and slip in another one. I take a breath, turn up the volume and press play. Immediately, Gemma’s pirated version of ‘No Way Back’ blasts out.
‘Now where were we?’
The leering lump heads towards me, his eyes crawling over my body.
‘Why don’t you take a couple of layers off, love? You’re a little overdressed for my tastes.’
I reach up to remove my waistcoat. He doesn’t break stride, reaching me sooner than I’d expected. He grabs me suddenly by the hair and forces me down onto my knees, unzipping his flies with the other hand.
Now I don’t hesitate. I remove Gemma’s iron bar that’s been nestling down the back of my waistcoat and slam it into his kneecap as hard as I can.
For a moment, nothing happens. No noise, no response, nothing. Just blank shock. So I swing it again. And this time I hear his knee crack.
Suddenly all hell breaks loose. My victim is howling, Carole’s shrieking and the new guy is running towards me. Rearing up, I swing the bar sharply upwards, catching him hard between the legs. He hits the deck like a sack of spuds, retching and coughing. I spin towards Lang, but he’s already half way to the door. Which only leaves Carole.
I shouldn’t have taken my eyes off her, because my head snaps back sharply now, as she drags me to the floor. She’s trying to get on top of me, scratching at my face, trying to gouge my eyes, but I flip over suddenly, wrenching my hair free of her grasp.
My first blow hits her on the shoulder. The second connects with her jaw. She hits the deck and I’m fast upon her, pinning her arms down with my knees. I raise the bar again. She’s utterly at my mercy now. I could crush her skull as easy as breaking an egg. And what’s more, she would deserve it.
But even as I start to swing, something makes me hesitate. I see fear in her eyes. And suddenly I drop the bar and scramble to my feet. I will not harm a defenceless person – whatever she may have done to me.
I am not my sister.
Chapter Eighteen
I take the stairs two at a time, desperate to get away from the basement now. The corridor that stretches out in front of me is dark and shadowy, but oddly I feel no fear. Lang is presumably long gone and besides for some reason I know that nothing can touch me tonight.
I drop the iron bar and it clatters to the floor, the unpleasant noise echoing down the corridor. Already I can hear people stirring – can they hear the muffled cries and curses emanating from the basement? Normally this would send me scurrying back to my dormitory, fearful of encountering the night staff. But instead I make straight for Carole’s office. Pulling her keys from my waistcoat pocket, I unlock the door and step inside.
I can hear footsteps in the corridor and barked orders from the staff, telling the startled kids to get back to bed. The lights are off in the office, but even so I’ve only got a minute or two before I’m discovered, so I pick up the phone and dial 999. The operator answers and I ask to speak to the police. Moments later, a concerned voice in the control room asks me how they can be of assistance.
‘I’d like to report an assault,’ I reply calmly. ‘I think I just broke someone’s kneecap.’
The police arrive ten minutes later. When they enter the basement, Gemma’s tape is still playing. I hope she would be proud of me. This was for her.
Chapter Nineteen
WPC Simmons drives me away from the house. It’s chaos inside – girls crying, staff looking perplexed, Carole protesting violently – and I’m glad to be away from it. It’s warm and quiet inside the patrol car.
‘I know you’ve had a nasty shock tonight, Jodie,’ Simmons says gently.
‘I’m ok.’
‘But if you can, I’d like you to tell me the whole thing. Before we get to the police station.’
I look up at her, tears of gratitude pricking my eyes. Finally somebody gets it.
I tell her the story as best I can, but suddenly I’m stammering and crying. She says it’s probably shock, but I think it’s just my life finally catching up with me. The last two years have been Hell.
I tell her what happened to Gemma and Jaz. She asks me to describe the landfill site and then she barks an order at the driver. Ten minutes later, we’re there. I point to where I think they’ll find the girls.
‘Get a recovery team down here asap,’ she tells her colleague.
And I’m surprised to hear her voice shaking. I look at her, but she is staring at the landfill site. She looks ashen. So I take her hand and we sit there in silence. And in that moment I realize just how lucky I’ve been.
Chapter Twenty
After that, things move pretty quickly. Carole Matthews, Lang and the others are arrested and charged, whilst Grove House is closed down. We are all placed in bedsits, whilst new care places are sought. For everybody except me that is. I’m sixteen in a few days time and after that nobody can tell me where to go or what to do. The thought terrifies me and thrills me in equal measure. I wonder what it will feel like finally to be free.
Grace Simmons visits me on my birthday, bringing a jumbo box of Maltesers and some clothes from Miss Selfridge.
‘It’s not much but I wanted you to have something to open,’ she says.
I try to respond, but I’m too choked. She smiles and continues:
‘And there’s one other thing I want you to have.’
She pulls her diamond engagement ring off and presses it into my hand. I protest, but she carries on quickly:
‘My old man knows I love him. And I don’t need a big rock weighing me down. So get a good price for it and use the money to set yourself up. You’re a brave girl, Jodie, with a good head on your shoulders. You’ll be ok – if you can stay out of trouble …’
It’s said with a smile and finally I crack. I cry for a full ten minutes, my head buried in her shoulder. She doesn’t try and stop me. Her kids are all grown up now, so perhaps she likes having someone to hug. Either way, I cling to her, loving the feeling of her strong arms around me.
After she’s gone, I hide the ring under a loose floorboard. I feel like I’m planting a seed and over the following days I ponder my future. I test various options, but I already know what I want to do. It felt good – better than good – to stand up for the powerless and to get justice for Gemma and Jaz. More than that, it felt right. And Grace Simmons has shown me that I could be doing that every single day. Why not? I’m strong, determined, bright enough and besides I quite fancy myself in that black and white uniform.
But that’s for the future. For now, my birthday present to my self is a clean slate, a fresh start. I’m old enough to change my name and that’s exactly what I’m going to do. I’ve had more than enough notoriety for one life. So it’s goodbye Jodie Haines and hello new life. At first I’m not sure what to call myself and then in the middle of the night I have a brainwave. I’ll borrow from two women who’ve been very kind to me – my granny and WPC Simmons.
Even as I think this, I know it’s the right choice. And I get a little thrill later, as I practise saying it quietly under my breath, so none of the other girls will hear.
‘My name is Helen Grace.’
‘Helen Grace is one of the greatest
heroes to come along in years’
JEFFERY DEAVER
‘The new Jo Nesbø’
JUDY FINNIGAN
THE FIRST DI HELEN GRACE THRILLER
The girl emerged from the woods, barely alive. Her story
was beyond belief. But it was true. Every dreadful word of it.
Days later, another desperate escapee is found – and a pattern is emerging. Pairs of victims are being abducted, imprisoned then faced with a terrible choice: kill or be killed.
Would you rather lose your life or lose your mind?
Detective Inspector Helen Grace has faced down her own demons on her rise to the top. As she leads the investigation to hunt down this unseen monster, she learns that it may be the survivors – living calling cards – who hold the key to the case.
And unless she succeeds, more innocents will die …
THE SECOND DI HELEN GRACE THRILLER
A man’s body is found in an empty house. His heart has been cut out and delivered to his wife and children.
He is the first victim, and Detective Inspector Helen Grace knows he will not be the last. But why would a happily married man be this far from home in the dead of night?
The media call it Jack the Ripper in reverse: a serial killer preying on family men who lead hidden double lives.
Helen can sense the fury behind the murders. But what she cannot possibly predict is how volatile this killer is – or what is waiting for her at the end of the chase …
THE THIRD DI HELEN GRACE THRILLER
A young woman wakes up in a cold, dark cellar, with no idea how she got there or who her kidnapper is. So begins her terrible nightmare.
No Way Back Page 3