Cut to the Bone

by Alex Caan

  ‘What do you mean by that?’

  ‘This, what you told me. She knew. She kept saying it, when we had her. She kept saying she knew what James had been doing, and telling me he had brainwashed me, and I was being used by him. And the way we got her . . . it fits now. Now I get it.’

  ‘You got her? How?’

  ‘I called her. And I said I had information on James for her. I knew she was collecting it secretly, and I had some for her. So we agreed to meet. At her flat. I said I didn’t want anyone to know. And the thing is, I didn’t even know myself. James just told me what to say. But now I understand; it all makes sense. Because Ruby, she never asked me what the information was. She already knew, and she thought I was one of them – these young girls – and that I was scared.’

  Kate wanted to say how Rachel was one of those girls. The worst one, the one he had ruined the most. She drank from a glass of cold water instead. Coffee wouldn’t do; she needed the hard chill of iced water. Rachel was doing the same. Mirroring each other, finding a bond. Augusta and Melissa were transfixed, thankfully not interrupting. It was vital they heard this. Augusta would have to rescue Rachel, and so would Melissa.

  ‘So you arranged to meet Ruby?’

  ‘I called her at four, and told her to meet me at seven-thirty. She agreed. She said she had some paperwork to sort out, and would be home. She met me then. I was in a car, I had told her the make already. She got in when she saw me, and that’s when James . . . he put a gun to her head. And I took her mobile phone. I took the battery out. And then I used plastic tags and I tied Ruby’s wrists and ankles. Only it didn’t matter, because James injected her with something. Into her neck. And she just slumped. I thought she was dead, but she wasn’t, she was just asleep. So he shifted her to the back seat, and then we drove to Dan’s place.’

  ‘We checked the CCTV to Windsor Court. We didn’t find any footage of you going to Ruby’s flat, nor did we see Ruby leave.’

  ‘James hacked into the system. He changed the camera feed. He deleted images of us.’

  ‘We didn’t find your number on her phone records.’

  ‘I used James’s phone, withheld the number.’

  James had planned this carefully, thought Kate.

  ‘Can you tell us what car it was?’

  ‘It was a Peugeot, black. Small. He rented it. I’d never seen it before.’

  Kate brought up the entire Peugeot range on her tablet. She scrolled through until Rachel identified the right one. Kate uploaded the details into an email and sent it to her team. Rachel couldn’t recall the number plate.

  ‘What happened then? When you got to Dan’s cottage?’

  ‘We strapped Ruby into a chair in the basement. James already knew it would be there, like he had been there before. And he used this really strong tape on her. When she woke up, she was scared. And we –’

  Rachel stopped, the movie in her head playing out whatever role she’d had.

  ‘What did James do?’

  ‘He hurt her. He was angry. He taped her mouth up, so she would stop saying things. She kept calling him sick, a pervert. And he punched her, and he kept grabbing her hair and yanking it, and Ruby kept screaming . . .’

  Rachel was crying now; ashamed, probably. The hair-pulling. Kate thought that was something a girl would do. Rachel had done that.

  ‘And he filmed it?’ said Kate.

  ‘I filmed it. Yes, that’s what I was doing. I was filming it all. And then . . . well, he let her go. I argued with him, said she was going to tell the police. That we needed to deal with her. He let her go, though. And she thought she was free, and she ran from there. She wasn’t free, though, because we went after her. James had night-vision goggles, and he gave me a pair, too. We could see Ruby, and she couldn’t see us. And I kept filming, watching her run, and stumble and fall. And I laughed.’

  Rachel’s face was wretched now.

  ‘And she kept screaming, “Help me, somebody help me.” There was no one, though. And we caught up to her, and James tied her up again. And then he left us.’

  ‘Where did he go?’ said Kate, already picturing in her head what had happened next.

  Chapter One Hundred and Eleven

  Rachel was wiping her face with tissue Kate had asked to be brought in for her, but the tears wouldn’t stop. She talked through them, breathless, eager to get out the rest of what had happened. Her version. And Kate knew this was her version, the version she could say. And that was fine, because in Kate’s mind, Rachel was not going to get the blame for this.

  ‘He moved the car. I’m not sure where he went. And then he took Ruby. He made her walk through the trees, through the forest. I saw them from the cottage windows, and then they disappeared. It’s funny, but I hated that place. It was so creepy, so dark, and I was left alone. I kept hearing things from the basement. And James used to tell me Ruby was a witch, and I thought, what if it’s true?’

  The pentagrams; Ruby’s search for spirituality. She wasn’t a witch; she was just like so many other people. Kate formed the word ‘journey’ in her head – such a cliché, but it fit.

  ‘What happened then?’

  ‘He came back. It was an hour, I think, that they were gone. And he came back, and they were in the car together. Ruby was tied up, and her lip was bleeding, badly. I think she tried to run, and he must have . . .’

  The trail the bloodhounds had followed, through the foliage, the fields and to the road. James must have parked his car there, ready. Forced Ruby through the woods, and then returned to pick up Rachel.

  ‘Where did you go?’ said Kate.

  ‘I don’t know. We just drove. Ruby was struggling, so we stopped. And he put her in the boot. And then there were just roads, it was so dark. He knew where he was going, though. And we came to an outhouse, I think. It was a building with no roof, just walls. And he told me to wait in the car. So I did. And then I heard the . . .’

  ‘What did you hear, Rachel?’

  ‘The gunshots. There were two or three. So loud. And then he came back.’

  The video, Ruby’s brains flying from the back of her head.

  ‘How long were you driving for? Do you know what direction you took?’

  ‘I can’t remember. It was less than an hour. It was dark. I don’t know.’

  ‘I need you to describe the journey. I need you to think back. Anything at all. When you got in the car, was it facing the cottage or not? Did James turn right, left, drive straight ahead? Any details you can recall, and the place he took you to. There must have been traffic signs, features that you picked up. I’m going to get somebody in to talk you through it. Is that OK? And then you can speak to your parents. They’re here.’

  Rachel panicked, her head jerking up, her eyes turning to the two-way mirror. As though she could see them, or sense them.

  Kate wondered at the lies she must have told them. Had they known about James? How could they? They would have put a stop to it, surely? Then again, how many parents really knew what their kids got up to online? They thought they were secure and safe in their bedrooms, obsessing over internet personalities, the way they would over posters of a musician. Instead, they were being silently and stealthily groomed and betrayed.

  James Fogg was the one that would get caught. Kate thought about the others out there, the Rachels of the world being slowly turned until they didn’t know who they were anymore. Broken down to be nothing more than dolls, twisted to do the bidding of others.

  James Fogg would be a start, though. Kate would find him, and then she would find others like him. She was going to bring justice down on these sick fucks, because that was who she was and what she did.

  Chapter One Hundred and Twelve

  Kate was fidgety, her chest hurting. It was a dull ache, the build-up of energy or lactic acid. She needed to release it, to be moving, doing something. She had ordered other people to do things, kept her team busy. She had dozens of police officers looking for James
Fogg, checking CCTV, speaking to anyone in the vicinity of his house. Hampshire police were out in force scouring the directions Rachel had put together for them. It wasn’t enough.

  ‘This is crazy,’ said Zain.

  They were both in Trent’s office, Kate’s mother still asleep on the sofa. Dr Eric Sandler, the cyber psychologist, had called in via Skype.

  ‘You got a live one, detective,’ he said. ‘This is the fear, what we’ve been dreading all along. And it’s so tough to warn people. When you’re lonely and reaching out, you sometimes don’t know what’s reaching back until it’s too late.’

  ‘Like a virtual ouija board?’ said Zain.

  ‘Something like that, yes. And you have to remember, at that age, young adults just want to be liked, be normal. On top of which, they have hormones racing through them. It’s why they originally developed manufactured pop stars, especially for girls – they go wild for them. Release all their hormones on beings they’ll never attain.’

  ‘These vloggers – these internet stars – they aren’t pop stars,’ Kate said.

  ‘Worse, in a way. You see, with musicians, actors, the usual pretty boys, they come with a fortress around them. Managers, PR, security. And they have a lot of media scrutiny watching their every move. They snort cocaine in a nightclub toilet, or get off in the back of a limo, and it’s online within minutes. No escape. So that all acts like a barrier; it stops them messing around with their fans.’

  ‘And these vlogger guys . . .’ said Zain.

  ‘It’s the same relationship: the fans worship them, obsess over them. They fill every aspect of their lives with them, and that barrier just isn’t there. It’s direct contact with your idols, and no one is watching. It’s a potential minefield. And the wrong people get involved, and that’s it. You have something like this happen. I’m just surprised it’s not more common.’

  ‘Maybe it is and we just don’t know?’ said Kate.

  ‘Yes, there is that,’ said Dr Sandler. ‘I think for these girls it’s like having Harry Styles message them directly. They would do anything – these substitute boyfriends could ask them for anything.’

  Her mother’s eyes were open when the Skype call had finished. Kate went over to her, holding her hands, telling her it was OK, where she was, and that despite the lack of blond hair, it was Kate.

  ‘Hi,’ said Zain, when she was done. He walked towards Jane, held out his hand. ‘Detective Zain Harris. Apologies if we woke you. Can I get you anything?’

  ‘Some water would be good,’ said Jane.

  ‘Sure, no problem. You want me to order you some food?’

  ‘Yes, please, if you don’t mind,’ said Jane.

  ‘No worries, I’ll get someone in with a menu, or something. I’ll be back in a bit,’ he said, leaving them alone.

  ‘You have no idea what he looks like, Mother, so don’t even start,’ said Kate.

  Jane grinned.

  ‘I can tell he’s polite. Might be the one.’

  Kate groaned inside.

  There was a knock on the door. Zain burst in.

  ‘Sorry, they need you. Now.’

  Michelle was in the conference room, the screen playing a video.

  ‘When did this happen?’ said Kate, her skin goosing and crawling with adrenalin.

  ‘It was uploaded a few minutes ago,’ said Michelle.

  ‘Fucking mental, isn’t it?’ said Zain.

  ‘Yes,’ said Kate.

  The scene was familiar. It was a figure strapped to a chair. Kate couldn’t tell if it was at the cottage. It shouldn’t be – that place was crawling with police officers. There was no sound, no message. The picture was the same grey-green tint used on Ruby, bruising visible as shadows on the face.

  The figure was crying, shivering. And Kate knew they wouldn’t find him in time. That Daniel Grant was about to be murdered by James Fogg, in the same way Ruby had been.

  “You’re next.” She finally knew who that message was for.

  Chapter One Hundred and Thirteen

  Kate oscillated between frustration and compassion as Rachel ran fingers through her hair and nervously touched her face. Her eyes were roaming the room again; she was worse after meeting with her parents. After Melissa had spoken to her, and Augusta had advised her.

  ‘You see, I wonder why Dan would put himself in a situation where James could get hold of him?’ said Kate.

  ‘He can manipulate anyone; you don’t know him.’

  ‘Yes, but Dan hated him. I don’t think he would willingly want to meet him. Rachel, I think there is something else happening. And I need you to help me, and be honest.’

  Rachel broke down again. Her tears – the sobbing, body-wracking, limb-shaking crying – were beginning to grate on Kate. She needed answers, and clarity, because somewhere she pictured James putting a gun to Dan’s head and creating the same montage he had done with Ruby. And however she felt about Dan, she would not allow this to happen.

  ‘I don’t know anything,’ said Rachel.

  ‘My client is clearly distressed, and has told you she has no knowledge of Mr Grant’s disappearance,’ said Augusta.

  ‘Rachel, where did you tell Dan to meet you?’ said Kate.

  ‘I resent the accusation,’ said Augusta.

  ‘If you tell me, we can find him. Or do you want to be responsible for another death?’

  ‘No,’ said Rachel; it was loud – a scream, almost. ‘No, I don’t. Please. Save Dan? I won’t survive it, knowing James did that again.’

  ‘Help me, Rachel, and I won’t let him,’ said Kate.

  ‘I called Dan. I told him I knew who killed Ruby. And I told him to meet me by Trinity Square. It’s near his flat, and that’s where . . . He got into the car, when he saw me, and then James –’

  ‘What time?’

  ‘I told him to meet me at 6 p.m., so it was then. And when he got into the car, on the back seat, James stabbed him with a needle. It was the same thing he’d used to drug Ruby.’

  ‘Where did he take him?’

  ‘I don’t know. He didn’t want me to go, this time. He told me to go home, get a taxi and go home. He said that our alibi had to look real, you see? I had to speak to the neighbours, ask them for something. And stand at the front door, and shout into the house. So it looked like he was there.’

  James must have known that with Dan gone, he himself would become a bigger focus. So James hadn’t expected to be caught. Dan wasn’t an escalation; his capture was just his next step. No wonder his hard drives hadn’t been cleaned.

  ‘Did James say where he was going?’ said Kate.

  ‘He said he was going to let them be together. Ruby and Dan.’

  The same place; to do the same things. Dan was probably already dead, she thought.

  Zain was waiting for her when she left the interview room.

  ‘We had a breakthrough,’ he said. ‘We ran the fake licences James had made. None of them registered to any hire cars. So we broadened the search, ran some of his aliases from the student IDs and a passport. One of them hit. He used the name Derek Childs to hire a car the day before Ruby disappeared, returned it the day after. And he hired another vehicle yesterday. We’ve got a hit on traffic cameras.’

  Kate looked at the excitement on Harris’s face, the energised sound to his voice. If he had done this himself, he wouldn’t be so enthralled by it.

  ‘Let me guess, you spoke to DCI Cross?’

  ‘I’m resigning in the morning anyway,’ he said. ‘Before you fire me.’

  ‘No, that’s not what I mean. I was going to commend you on your adeptness. We need all the help we can get right now. No rash decisions, OK?’

  ‘Right. I got your mother some food, too. She seems settled.’

  ‘Are you OK to go to Hampshire and start the search?’ she said.

  ‘Of course,’ he said.

  ‘Take a chopper,’ she said. ‘You might as well splurge Hope’s budget, while he still has it. I’m sure on
ce the PM finds out that his party’s biggest sponsor is cutting them off, this place will soon start counting Post-it notes and paperclips just like every other police unit.’

  Chapter One Hundred and Fourteen

  Zain was suspended in mid-air, his head feeling light, as though there was nothing holding his skull up. Seventy-two moving parts that could malfunction. Why did people use helicopters?

  ‘Rubberdingyrapids,’ he muttered, quoting from Four Lions.

  He hadn’t been the same with hovering in the air since the shipping container.

  The helicopter set down in a field a couple of miles from Dan’s cottage, near to the farmer who owned most of the land. He caught up with DS Helen Lowe from Hampshire police. She didn’t seem all that enthused to see him, probably not as much as she would have been if he were Robin Pelt.

  ‘Thought it better you land here,’ she told him. ‘There’s some phone reception, at least. I have a car waiting for you, and Michelle Cable called. Said it was urgent. You better call her back before we head off. Near Dan’s cottage you’ll get no signal.’

  ‘Thanks, sergeant. Do we have any idea yet where James might have taken Dan? Rachel provided us with a route which might give us some clues, at least.’

  ‘In the pitch dark? I doubt it,’ Helen said. ‘We tried out the route, but the clues were too vague. We have a helicopter searching the area, and patrols are out. There’s an alert out on the registration plate and car. It’s just too massive an area, though.’

  ‘At least we know roughly where he might be, from the traffic cameras.’

  She shrugged.

  Zain called Michelle.

  ‘Listen, something weird,’ Michelle said. ‘Rachel put her battery back in.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘When she was left alone in the cottage, she got scared. So she put her battery back in, and switched her phone on. And she didn’t switch it off when they took Ruby for a drive.’

  ‘That’s brilliant,’ said Zain. ‘But out here, there’s probably no phone masts anywhere.’