‘Honestly!’ she said quickly. ‘I … I promise. I wouldn’t do anything you told me not to do.’
He stopped. Glanced across at the house. Laura waited for him to notice the evidence of her deceit. From where he stood the angle might just prevent him from seeing inside the window, but Laura couldn’t be certain. The girl swallowed back her rising bile and willed him not to notice. Her teeth jammed together so hard that her jaw began to hurt.
‘Are you sure you haven’t been in there?’ He stared hard at her now. ‘Perhaps I ought to take a look. Just in case.’
‘I wouldn’t lie to you. I said I wouldn’t go inside, and I won’t.’
He continued to switch his gaze from the girl to the house. Eventually he nodded and offered a smile. ‘Good girl.’ He swivelled and went back to the door. ‘I think we’re beginning to understand each other, my pretty one.’
Nothing else was said as he stepped outside and the door was locked once more. When they were gone, Laura dared to breathe. A barrage of thoughts and emotions filling her head, she pushed the bowl and cup away.
Having waited for a few minutes, she then sped silently across the room to the doll’s house. As she nudged open the door and reached a hand inside, Laura’s mind was suddenly filled with the chilling certainty that a child’s corpse was standing just beyond her vision, waiting to claw at her hand as she groped blindly for the switch. Three times she checked her hand, before steeling herself and finally extinguishing the only sign of her betrayal. This done, she stepped back from the house, heart thumping and blood rushing inside her head.
This was all too much. She had to get away. Laura tip-toed across to the room’s main door. Were they really recording her? It sounded like something the man would do. So, she wouldn’t cry out, or make a noise. But she would work on a way of opening the door. The recording wouldn’t help them much if she were gone by the time they got back.
Twenty minutes later, Laura was convinced that if she was ever going to get away, it would not be through the locked door. It was solid wood, as was the frame. No amount of pushing or pulling or throwing herself against it was going to make the door budge. The lock was sturdy, and could not be forced apart. Weary and dispirited, she moved back to the pile of clothes, threw herself down and rocked back and forth, head in her hands. She was alone and she was afraid and she knew she was going to die. Laura shuddered once, rolled herself into a ball, closed her eyes, and slept.
And dreamed …
She was inside the house. This time it was immense, the biggest house of any kind she had ever seen. She was hiding behind something, though she could not be certain of what. Her eyes were open wide, and she was trembling. The man’s voice echoed and boomed.
‘Come out, come out, wherever you are. I’ll find you. I’ll fiiinnndd yooouuu!’
Laura began to pray. Our Father, who art in heaven …
‘If you show yourself, you little madam, I won’t be quite so angry.’
… hallowed be thy name …
‘But if you make me come and find you, if you waste my time, I’ll have no choice but to hurt you in ways you can’t begin to imagine.’
… thy kingdom come …
‘And when you’ve taken all the pain you can stand, I will kill you. Just like I killed your mummy and daddy.’
… thy will be done …
‘Just like I did to sweet little Gary.’
… on earth as it is in heaven …
‘I’ll open you up, slash you to ribbons.’
… Give us this day our daily bread …
‘I’ll let the worms and the maggots and the beetles feast upon you.’
‘Laura.’
This voice was different. It was her father’s voice.
‘Laura, where are you, sweetheart?’
Her mouth opened, and clammed tight again. Where was she? What was she hiding behind? It draped over her like … like a second skin. No. No, it couldn’t be. She could never have … But it was. It was one of the dolls. No. Not a doll. One of the girls. Like her. Only dead. Dead and rotten.
‘Laura. He’s gone away, darling. Daddy’s here for you now. You don’t have to be afraid any more, baby bear.’
Laura pushed the body to the floor, where it fell with a dull thud. ‘Daddy!’ she screamed. ‘I’m here. I’m here.’
And the words spilled out of her mouth just as a dreadful voice echoed through her thoughts: What if it’s not Daddy? What if it was him? What if he made himself sound like Daddy?
She reached down to pull the dead girl back on top of her. But as her hands took hold of the corpse’s flesh, its head turned and its face cracked and split apart, revealing a terrible grin and a gleaming, hairless head.
‘Not this time, Laura,’ it said.
She screamed herself awake. Looking around like a startled animal, her glance fell over the house and swept away in an instant. Weeping silently, her eyes dipped and the bowl and mug swam into view. She found it impossible to believe that she had actually eaten the disgusting cereal. Keeping it down was possibly the bravest thing she had ever done. Certainly, it was the most appalling. But nothing would ever induce her to drink from that mug. Nothing on earth.
She was wrong about that, of course. But there was still so much about herself that Laura Rogers had yet to discover.
20
Frank spent the afternoon wandering aimlessly around the house. Needing to avoid the silence that had come to disturb him more than at any time before, he switched on the hi-fi in the living room, inserted a CD and set it to play random tracks in a continuous loop. The warm and vibrant strains of B.B. King moved with him wherever he went, and he was grateful for the distraction. A Gibson ES-335 and the old jazz and blues guitarist were a match made in heaven.
When the telephone rang, Frank answered quickly, hoping for good news. It was Janet’s father. ‘I want to arrange the funeral ceremony,’ Arthur Rankin said without preamble.
‘It’s already in hand,’ Frank told him.
After a lengthy pause, Rankin sighed and said, ‘But it is a funeral, yes? Please tell me you did at least do that for her.’
‘I did what Janet and I discussed and agreed.’
‘You’ve arranged for my daughter to be cremated, haven’t you?’ The tone and manner were accusatory.
‘Yes. It’s what she wanted.’
‘And what about what we want for Janet? We were her flesh and blood, after all.’
Frank felt heat rising up from his chest. ‘Which is an accident of birth, Arthur. She chose to marry me. She chose to have children with me.’
‘She also chose to leave you and take those children with her.’
‘And if she hadn’t, maybe she’d be alive now. Maybe they both would be.’ Frank winced as his own words filtered through the anger. He had no desire to hurt the man further. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said quietly. ‘That was uncalled for.’
But he was speaking to a disconnected line.
Without any great enthusiasm Frank fixed himself a cheese sandwich, but pushed the plate away after only two bites. Usually he ground his own coffee beans for filtering, but today he made do with instant Gold Blend. That, too, was set aside before the mug was even half empty. He watered the plants, cursing when he failed to find their food, and whiled away an hour sitting in the conservatory just staring out at the garden.
Try as he might, he could not turn his mind from the man he had spoken to on the telephone. The man who had murdered his wife and son. The man who now held Laura captive.
What drives you, you son of a bitch? Do you have a purpose? Or is this all just a game to you?
Having spent so many years in law enforcement, Frank had come into contact with scum so evil, so lacking in morality and compassion, that he assumed them capable of anything. What he had come to understand was that some people were not driven, that no psychological scarring led them to behave in such a depraved manner. Whether they were born that way – some genetic foul-up – or a chemica
l reaction in the brain caused them to live their lives beyond the understanding of the majority, Frank had no idea. The sorry truth was that, throughout history, men had devised sickening and barbaric ways in which to take the lives of their fellow man. Perhaps there had never been a time when human monsters did not exist, a time when acts of brutality and savagery did not take place. Perhaps there never would be.
That was the thought that got Frank back on his feet and into the living room once more. He muted the CD player and watched Sky News for a while. Superintendent Foster, looking as slick and slippery as usual, was interviewed outside the warehouse. In sombre tones, he related details of their grim discovery, but made no mention of either Frank’s involvement or the telephone call. When asked how the body had been located, all he would say was that he had acted on information received during the course of the investigation.
Frank was well aware that Foster had kept the call from the media for one reason only: to keep Frank’s involvement out of the public gaze. He was happy enough with this. The last thing he wanted was for the media to camp outside his door and follow his every move. Let Foster keep himself in the spotlight, let the prick take all the plaudits as the case progressed, just so long as Frank could involve himself.
A little after six that evening, the doorbell chimed. Frank guessed it would be Nicky, but instead it was Zoe who stood there in the porch. He was surprised to see her, as she had never been to the house before.
‘Something up?’ he asked, the front door angled between them.
Zoe shook her head. ‘No. I just thought I’d pop over and see how you were doing.’
Frank stepped aside, then led her into the living room. Her body spray wafted a sweet, bubblegum odour that only young women of a certain age find appealing. She wore a short, leather skirt, into which was tucked a pink T-shirt that pressed tight against her breasts. She looked brazen, yet at the same time curiously innocent and naïve. Frank realised how fond of her he had become.
‘Can I get you a drink?’ he asked.
‘No thanks. I’m good.’ She threw herself down in an armchair, legs flung in the air by the impact.
‘What have you managed to sort out at work?’ he asked.
‘We’re okay for a day or two. I’ve put a few things on hold, made your apologies. Pretty much everyone knew what had happened, so there was plenty of sympathy. I’ve paid some bills, but to be honest we’re in need of a little money, Frank.’
He nodded. ‘I’ll have some transferred from my own account.’
‘And what about future collections?’
‘We’ll let it slide for the rest of this week. If I’m not back by Monday or Tuesday, I’ll bring someone in to help.’
Zoe nodded her appreciation and looked around the room. ‘Nice place,’ she said. ‘Whole lot better than my dump of a bedsit.’
Frank leaned forward, frowning. ‘I hadn’t realised you’d left home. When did that happen?’
‘A few weeks ago. Had another argument with my step-dad, and this time my mum sided with him. I decided it was time to get out. I never realised how much you had to pay for a bloody hovel these days, though.’
Frank felt terrible. He’d not only considered himself to be a good employer, but also a friend and a confidante to Zoe. That she had taken such a decision without him being aware left a sour taste in his mouth.
As if sensing his concern, Zoe shook her head and smiled. ‘I didn’t tell you because I knew you’d nag me into going back home, about the area not being safe for a girl on her own these days.’ Then she added, ‘And I also knew you’d insist on giving me a raise to help pay my rent.’
Frank laughed. ‘Good one. You really don’t know me at all, do you?’
Zoe blew a raspberry. ‘A girl has to try. Especially a girl making her own way in the world.’ She lowered her head, eyelashes flapping beyond the curl of fringe that fell across her face.
‘Oh, stop it. Will an extra score a day do you?’
Zoe tried to look serious, missing by a mile. ‘Twenty quid a day? Oh, no, Frank, I was only joking. You can’t afford it. I don’t deserve it.’
‘Okay. You’ve convinced me. We’ll leave things as they are, shall we?’
‘I’ll take it.’ She shuffled across to him on her knees and hugged him close. ‘Thanks, boss. Have I told you lately that you’re the best boss in the world?’
‘I don’t think so, no.’
‘Well you are.’ She looked up at him, and he could tell she was being sincere. ‘Really, Frank, I do appreciate it. I’ll work harder for it, too.’
Frank was now uncomfortably aware of how much he was enjoying being held by this vivacious and attractive nineteen-year-old. At that moment, she chose to pull away, and he was extremely grateful that she did.
‘You just carry on doing what you do best,’ he said, as she moved back across to the armchair. ‘You deserve a salary increase, probably more than I can afford to give you.’
Zoe shrugged, grew serious once more. ‘How are you bearing up?’
‘As well as I can, I suppose. The investigation is at the information-gathering stage, and it can seem a slow process when you’re on this side of the fence, believe me.’
‘You must be at your wits’ end. Do they have any news on who this maniac is?’
Frank hesitated, unsure how he felt about discussing this with Zoe. ‘Not at the moment. I’m sure there will be some movement soon, though.’
Perhaps sensing his reluctance to divulge information, Zoe leaned back in the chair. ‘How do you feel about Janet?’ she asked absently, as if her question carried no weight.
Frank considered for a moment, reaching inside for a truth he had known for some time. ‘Less cut-up than I ought to be, perhaps. She was my wife, after all, and we had two great kids together. We shared a life for a long time. And still…there’s no real grief. Sadness, yes. I would never have wished such an awful thing for her, despite what she did to me. To all of us, really. But in the end the only thing we had in common was our children and our history.’
Zoe, who had met Janet on several occasions, but had known her only during a time when Frank and his wife were enduring desperate times, pouted. ‘Of course, she didn’t deserve what happened to her. But she didn’t deserve you, either.’ The girl lowered her gaze. ‘I know I joke about you and me, the fact that I’ve seen you eyeing me up, and I also know I’m just a girl really, with a head filled with girl stuff. But I need you to know that I’m here for you. If you just want to talk, or take the piss out of my hair and clothes, you just have to let me know.’
He smiled. ‘I know you would. Zoe, you’re a larger-than-life personality, and you’re a great kid. But you’re also so much more than a kid. So yes, when I need to step away from the doom and gloom, you’re my go-to person.’
Zoe exhaled deeply. ‘Bloody hell. I’ve never been one of those before.’
They laughed together at that. Frank had imagined he would never be able to laugh again until Laura was back with him and safe, and was astonished to hear the sound echoing around the room. It felt wrong, but it also felt very good. Somehow it made him feel stronger, perhaps even a little more confident of a positive outcome.
‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘Again. I mean it, Zo. Thanks for just being you.’
As usual, Zoe brushed aside any sign of praise. ‘It’s what you pay me the big bucks for, boss-man.’ She gave a wide, happy grin, and cupped her breasts. ‘And considering you also get to cop an eyeful of these puppies, you’ve made a wise choice I’d say.’
Frank couldn’t help himself. He simply had to laugh again.
21
The following morning, Nicky collected Frank early and drove to a café in Stratford that was frequented on a daily basis by builders and cab drivers – a true sign of quality. Over their standard fried breakfast of double everything, Frank asked Nicky to bring him up to speed on the investigation.
His friend explained that nothing of value had come in from a
ny of their main sources, forensics were still hard at it, so the hunt had not moved forward at all overnight. Frank voiced his concern that the case was now more than seventy-two hours old, and little progress had been made. Nicky waved these anxieties away, reminding him that this inquiry was unlike most others.
They were on their way to the Leyton annexe when Nicky’s mobile chirped. The phone was in its slot on the dashboard, so Nicky switched it over to the speakers and on-board microphone. It was Warren Capel. His voice betrayed signs of excitement. ‘Sir, I think we may have a major break.’
Nicky glanced across at Frank before responding. ‘Go ahead, Warren. What do you have?’
‘A call came in about twenty minutes ago. A Mr Simon Redbridge believes the man we’re after recently threatened his daughter in their own home.’
‘Who’s seeing them?’
Capel cleared his throat. ‘You are, sir. You and Frank.’
Nicky frowned. ‘Are you sure?’
‘Yes, sir. Superintendent Foster was about to respond, but the chief super happened to be here in the annexe and he made it clear that he wanted Frank to be in on the interview. The superintendent then decided he had other business to attend to and passed it on to you.’
Frank glanced across, saw Nicky’s broad grin. A thin smile touched his own lips. It was obvious that Capel was being extremely tactful. Between the lines, however, it appeared that Foster’s nose had been well and truly put out of joint.
‘What standing does Frank have, Warren?’ Nicky asked.
‘A special detective, sir. On attachment to our squad.’
‘Okay, Warren. Give me the address.’ When he ended the call, he turned to Frank. ‘I take it you approve?’
‘Oh, yes. I’m a bit rusty, but I think I’ll soon get the hang of it again.’
The house in Chingford sat in a street opposite the public golf course, and was less than a ten-minute drive from Paul Clarke’s home. It was also within spitting distance of Frank’s own house. He gave that some real thought as he and Nicky introduced themselves to Simon Redbridge.
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