Blood Line

by Lynda La Plante

  Blood Line

  Lynda La Plante

  Under the watchful eye of DCS James Langton, DCI Anna Travis takes charge of an investigation for the first time. But is it purely a missing person's case - or a full blown murder enquiry? An ominous pool of blood and no victim lead Anna on a desperate hunt for a man who has disappeared without trace. As Anna becomes obsessed with seemingly irrelevant details, Langton fears that she is losing control. They still have no body and Anna is under increasing pressure to make an arrest...

  Lynda La Plante

  Blood Line

  I would like to dedicate this book

  to Cass and Anne Sutherland

  Acknowledgements

  Special thanks and gratitude go to my hard working team at La Plante Productions for their committed and valuable support while I worked on Blood Line: Liz Thorburn, Richard Dobbs-Grove, Noel Farragher, Sara Johnson and especially Cass Sutherland.

  Many thanks also to Nicole Muldowney, Stephen Ross and Andrew Bennet-Smith, along with the ever-supportive Duncan Heath and Sue Rodgers.

  I would also like to say how much I appreciate the wonderful stars of the Above Suspicion series: Cirián Hinds and Kelly Reilly.

  Special thanks to my literary agent, Gill Coleridge, and all at Rogers, Coleridge & White for their constant encouragement.

  The publication of this book would not have been possible without the hard work and support of Susan Opie and the team at Simon & Schuster: Ian Chapman, Suzanne Baboneau, Nigel Stoneman, Jessica Leeke and Rob Cox; I am very happy to be working with such a terrific and creative group of people.

  Prologue

  The first blow to his head made his body lurch sideways, striking his face against the bedside cabinet. The pain was excruciating. As he tried to fend off his attacker, the punch to his ribs forced him back against the pillow. He couldn’t even cry out – the gag made sure of that. Over and over again the punches slammed into his body, but now it wasn’t a fist that hit him, it was a club hammer, and he could feel the bones in his face splinter. Blood seeped into his eyes and streamed from his nose as yet again the hammer struck, this time with such force that his head lolled over the side of the bed. Incapable of moving or seeing, he could feel the sheet being dragged over him and around his inert body, like a shroud. His attacker was using the blood-sodden sheet to slide him from the bed onto the floor. Moments later he realised he was being dragged out of the bedroom.

  As he was dumped into the bath, the taps struck him and part of the sheet covering his face fell back, but still he was incapable of making a sound. Even when the water began to run over him he could do nothing to help himself. A terrible darkness swamped him as he sank into unconsciousness. Blood clotted his nostrils, and his mouth was swollen from the beating, which had broken his front teeth and forced them into his lip, and yet he was still alive as his body was rolled over and the sheet drawn away from him. The blood mixed with the running water, swirling down the plughole beneath his broken face.

  Sometime later he felt something being poured over him, and hands patting and rubbing at his limbs. For a brief moment his mind woke as if there was a glimmer of a chance he would survive. This hope gave him the strength to try and move his limbs; he thrashed and kicked, but his attempts were thwarted as he felt hands squeezing at his throat. Then his head was wrapped so tightly that he could no longer breathe and there was no hope.

  Chapter One

  The small dapper man in the navy pin-striped suit had been waiting in the Hounslow police station reception for over an hour. He had not complained, but sat patiently reading his newspaper. When Anna Travis eventually walked into the room he folded the paper.

  ‘DCI Travis?’

  ‘Yes – and you are?’

  ‘Edward Rawlins.’

  Anna sat opposite him and apologised for keeping him waiting. The truth was she’d been so busy wrapping up an investigation for a forthcoming trial that she’d quite forgotten he was there.

  ‘That’s perfectly all right, and understandable as I did not have an appointment. Thank you for agreeing to see me.’

  There was a pause. In many ways she was unused to such cordiality, but at the same time impatient to know why he had specifically asked for her.

  ‘I work at the Old Bailey, I am an usher,’ Mr Rawlins said quietly.

  ‘Why do you want to see me?’

  ‘I have watched you in court many times and you have always impressed me.’

  ‘Well, thank you very much, Mr Rawlins, but could you tell me why you wanted to speak with me?’

  ‘Yes. I think my son has been murdered.’

  Anna opened her briefcase and took out a notebook. She demonstrated little reaction to his statement.

  ‘Have you reported this elsewhere?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Can you give me a few details? Firstly, what is your son’s name?’

  ‘Alan. He’s twenty-six years old and lives with his girlfriend in a flat not too far from here.’

  ‘The address?’

  ‘Newton Court in Hedges Street. He occupied a ground-floor flat, it’s number two.’

  ‘When you say “occupied”, do you mean he’s no longer living there?’

  ‘He’s supposed to be. I believe all his belongings are still there, but I haven’t been to the flat. I’ve just telephoned there many times.’

  ‘His girlfriend’s name?’

  ‘Tina Brooks.’

  ‘You said you believed your son has been murdered?’

  ‘Yes. We speak at least twice a week and I haven’t heard from him for nearly two weeks now.’

  ‘This is unusual?’

  ‘Very.’

  ‘You haven’t reported him missing?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Well, Mr Rawlins, that is the first thing you should do. As he is over eighteen and until we have more details, specifically if you think a crime has been committed, then you should make a Missing Persons report.’

  ‘Whatever you think is necessary, but Alan is a very studious and caring young man. He has always kept in touch with me.’

  ‘Have you spoken to his girlfriend?’

  ‘Yes, numerous times. She in actual fact called me, asking if I had seen him as she was worried because he hadn’t come home.’

  ‘Did she give you any possible reason for Alan’s disappearance?’

  ‘No, just that it was unlike him.’

  ‘Do you know if he has withdrawn any money from his bank account recently?’

  ‘His bank said they’re not allowed to tell me. I asked Miss Brooks if his passport was at the flat and she said that it was. Then later she told the police it wasn’t there.’

  ‘The last time you saw him or spoke to him, did he seem concerned about anything?’

  ‘No. He said we should go and see a film one Sunday and that he’d check what was on and call the following week. He never did.’

  ‘What work does he do?’

  ‘He’s a mechanic. He works for an auto-repair shop. I rang them, and they were surprised that they had not seen him. They too had called his flat to find out where he was, so it’s been of some concern to them also.’

  ‘Why do you think that something as bad as murder has happened?’

  ‘Because this is totally out of character.’

  Anna stood up. ‘I can get a local officer from the Missing Persons Unit to take a report and investigate the disappearance, but they would have to make the decision as to whether it was suspicious or not.’

  ‘But it’s been almost two weeks already!’

  ‘That may be so, but your son is over eighteen and in many cases we discover that nothing untoward has happened. He may have decided to just take off for personal reasons.’

  ‘It doesn’t m
ake sense, it’s not like him to . . .’

  ‘It has happened before. Did he have a good relationship with Miss Brooks?’

  ‘Yes, they were going to be married. Well, that’s what he told me, but that was six or seven months ago. He hasn’t mentioned it to me or my wife since.’ Mr Rawlins hesitated. ‘That is the other reason I am deeply concerned. You see, my wife is suffering from Alzheimer’s and Alan always found the time to talk to her. She is at home with a carer and he would make conversation with her several times a month, even though she has reached a stage where she doesn’t really recall who he is or who I am, for that matter.’

  Anna felt sorry for the dapper little man as he gave a sad small shrug of his shoulders.

  ‘I’ll push this through for you, Mr Rawlins, but as I said it will have to go through the correct channels as I am attached to the Murder Squad and not the Missing Persons Unit. It’s they who will need to have all these details.’

  ‘But I know something bad has happened. He wouldn’t behave this way – he’s a wonderful son.’

  Smiling in reassurance, Anna extricated herself from the interview. She did as she promised, arranging for an officer from the local Missing Persons Unit to take a detailed report from Mr Rawlins, but then she became completely consumed by her preparation for the forthcoming trial. Mr Rawlins was not exactly forgotten, just filed away as he had no direct connection to her department.

  Three weeks later, Anna saw Mr Rawlins again. It was at the Old Bailey, and he was ushering a prosecution witness into the court. She was about to skirt past him, not wishing to get into a conversation, when he hurried over to her.

  ‘Alan is still missing – my son. You recall me talking to you about my son? I reported him missing as you instructed.’

  ‘Yes, of course I remember, Mr Rawlins, but I have not been contacted by Mispers so I assume the case-file has not been raised to a high-risk category. I’m sorry, but unless I am officially tasked to investigate your son’s disappearance as suspicious, there is nothing more I can do.’

  Anna then headed into the court and Mr Rawlins turned away. She saw him a number of times during the remainder of the trial, but tried to avoid him as much as possible. Although she felt compassion for the little man, the reality was that she would be allocated her next murder enquiry and couldn’t choose it herself.

  As her trial veered towards a conclusion, Anna saw Detective Chief Superintendent James Langton coming up for a case in another court. He smiled warmly at her and she joined him.

  ‘How are you doing?’ he asked.

  ‘Fine, thank you.’

  Langton made no mention of the tragedy that had happened – the murder of her fiancé, Ken Hudson, a prison officer who had been planning to become a child psychologist. Ken had been killed by a prisoner, Cameron Welsh, who had become obsessed with Anna during a previous investigation.

  ‘I’ve been meaning to call you, but I’ve had a shedload of cases to deal with,’ Langton said apologetically.

  ‘That’s okay, I understand.’

  He cocked his head to one side. ‘Well, let’s have dinner one night.’

  ‘Yes, I’d like that, but I’ve been caught up on this case we’re here for.’

  ‘Time moves fast.’

  ‘Yes, it does.’

  She couldn’t mention to him that time had, in fact, moved unbearably slowly for her, and that it had done nothing to heal her loss. Work had helped; she had thrown herself into her present case, outwardly succeeding in burying the gaping pain that sat inside her.

  ‘Do you know Edward Rawlins?’ Langton went on. ‘He’s a court usher here. Apparently his son Alan is missing. Shame – he was a lovely young guy. I met him a couple of times.’

  ‘Yes, Mr Rawlins actually spoke to me about his concerns.’

  ‘Bit more than concerns – it’s been almost six weeks now. I said I’d find out what Mispers have come up with.’

  ‘I’d better get back in – the prosecution are summing up.’ She was eager to leave.

  ‘I’ll call about dinner. Bye now.’

  Langton moved off. He was very aware of the case she had headed up, her first as Detective Chief Inspector. It was a cut-and-dried investigation, one he knew would not place too much pressure on her as the suspect had admitted his guilt. Langton had also monitored her handling of the investigation, even down to making sure she had a team around her who had worked with her previously. Not that she had any intimation of all this; he had deliberately chosen not to be too visible. Anna was heading up her first murder enquiry, and though he was fully behind her promotion to DCI, he felt she needed time to acclimatise herself.

  Ten years ago, Langton had been emotionally bereft at the unexpected death of his first wife, so he was more than aware of what Anna was going through. He himself had returned to work almost immediately after the death, but it had remained a painful scar that even now affected him deeply. Although he and Anna had once been lovers, and although he was now married once more and with children, the psychological trauma still troubled him. In fact, he often thought it stunted and overshadowed his life. He had therefore attempted to encourage Anna to take time out, but she had refused, just as he had done all those years ago. He had deliberately made sure her enquiry was one he felt she could handle.

  Anna returned to court and after two days the jury gave their verdict of guilty to murder and not manslaughter as the defence had argued. Case closed.

  Anna was packing up the incident room with her colleagues when Langton appeared. He first congratulated her on the successful outcome of the trial and then asked if he could have a private word.

  As DCI, Anna now had her own office. She suspected that maybe he was going to ask about the dinner date, but instead he brought up the Misper enquiry regarding Alan Rawlins. It was on the same turf as her last case and he suggested that she take a look at the possibility that Edward Rawlins was right, and that his son was not missing, but dead.

  ‘I’m basically looking over it because I like the man – have known him for years – so can you talk to Mispers for me and see what they have to date? If it looks as if it could be high risk and a possible murder, I’d like you to oversee it.’

  ‘What is the general consensus?’

  ‘Well, according to his girlfriend there was a possibility he had someone else and was about to leave her. She thinks he was seeing another woman and just took off. There is no movement in his bank account, nor any contact with the place he worked at – and apparently it is totally out of character that he would go away without letting his dad know. To be honest, it does have a bad feeling about it – at least in my estimation – so check it out for me, please. And if you want to retain the same team you’ve been working alongside, go ahead.’

  ‘Will do.’

  Langton again mentioned that they should have dinner together one evening, but as before made no date. He had had a few words with her team and had received only positive feedback. It appeared, at least on the surface, that Anna was dealing with the crisis in her personal life, perhaps even better than he had done himself.

  The following morning, Anna selected a clean white shirt and navy blue pin-stripe suit to wear. Looking in the mirror she noticed that the suit jacket had a stain on the lapel and the shirt could do with a quick onceover with an iron. She thought about how much she had neglected her appearance since Ken’s death and decided it was time to try and smarten herself up again, so she changed into a brown jacket and black trousers. Impatient to get to work, to give the team briefing on the disappearance of Alan Rawlins, she didn’t bother to iron her shirt and placed the navy suit in a plastic bag to drop off at the dry cleaner’s.

  Anna briefed the team explaining that the Missing Persons report virtually said what Langton had told her: they had found nothing incriminating and had no evidence to indicate foul play. They suspected that Alan Rawlins had simply decided to take time out, and although they had interviewed his girlfriend and his workmates, no one coul
d give any reason for his disappearance. His current passport was missing, but there had been no withdrawals from any of his accounts. Anna’s team was a trifle confused as to why they had been brought in to investigate the case, and Anna suggested that it was down to Langton’s intuition and friendship with the father of the missing young man.

  ‘If we uncover any possibility of foul play we’ll act on it,’ she told them at the briefing, ‘but I think uppermost is showing an interest and seeing if Mispers have missed any lines of enquiry. If not, we can then move on and out of this station as planned.’

  Anna, accompanied by her DS, went to meet Tina Brooks that afternoon. Newton Court was only fifteen minutes’ drive from the Hounslow police station, a 1980s modern-build with six flats, a garage each, parking spaces and a well-kept horseshoe drive and forecourt with tubs of plants. The reception area was neat and clean, but with no resident doorman, just a plaque that listed the occupants of the six flats.

  Tina Brooks opened the door to flat two with hardly a beat after Anna had rung the bell. She was an exceptionally attractive young woman, with thick, dark-reddish hair scraped back from her face and caught in a scrunchie. She had big dark eyes, wide cheeks and full lips, and a small sculptured nose. Barefooted, she wore a pale blue tracksuit and had a white towel around her neck.

  ‘I was out running, so please excuse me.’ She gestured for them to follow her into the lounge. The flat was very tidy, with white walls and pine furniture. Nondescript paintings and prints hung on the wall. The large coffee table had a bowl of fruit on it, with a couple of fitness magazines beside it.

  ‘Can I offer you tea or coffee?’ she asked them.

  ‘No, thank you. I am DCI Anna Travis and this is Detective Sergeant Paul Simms.’

  They both sat on the sofa, while Tina chose a beige armchair opposite. Paul Simms was rather skinny, with curly blonde hair that gave him a baby-faced appearance, but he in fact was one of the best officers Anna had worked alongside. He took out his notebook as she kicked off the interview, asking Tina to give them details of when she had last seen Alan.