CHAPTER 26
9th November
The next morning dawned with a fresh blanket of snow on the ground and most of Claire’s team was late into CID to take over from the night team. There had been one significant development overnight and as Claire briefed her colleagues, she felt a mixture of emotions as she explained about Sara Thornton.
‘Uniform managed to track Sara’s journey from CCTV footage and nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary until they noticed a man following her. That’s when uniform put two and two together, with the Grant investigation. The man’s wearing the same coat and hat as our suspect who was tracking Nola, and it appears to be the same car as before.’
Stefan’s eyes immediately lit up. ‘Number plates?’
‘It would appear he’s using fake ones.’
‘Can you see his face?’ Elias spoke this time.
‘Barely,’ Claire said. ‘He has his back towards the camera ninety-nine percent of the time, plus he was wearing his hood up, with a baseball cap pulled low underneath it. He knows where the cameras are. He’s done his homework.’
Claire moved towards the LCD screen at the front of the room. ‘Everyone needs to see the footage.’ She turned to face Crest. ‘I want you to get Image Enhancement on the stills from the footage. I want to see what this snake looks like.’
‘Yes, Guv.’
The team then waited for Claire to hit the Playback button.
They saw the scenes unfold before them with bated breath. They watched Sara and the man right up until the point when he grabbed her, drawing a few gasps from some of the team at the sheer ferocity of the attack.
‘What’s that he’s doing there? Is that a cloth over her face?’ asked Harper.
‘Judging by the way Sara reacts here,’ Claire said, pointing to the screen as Sara slumped to one side, almost lifeless, ‘he’s using some form of sedative. Possibly chloroform. It’s easily available if you know where to look.’
‘What about the folder she was carrying?’
‘It was missing when uniform went to retrieve it, but was handed in this morning by a member of the public to Barratt & Causeland Solicitors, where she works. The file had their headed paper inside.’
She froze the footage just after the man had pushed Sara into the back seat. Everyone stared at the still image, then at Claire as she spoke.
‘You’ve all seen the footage. We don’t have one clear image of this man, and he’s planned it this way. He’s being brazen – cocky – taking her in a public place. Despite it being late evening, there was still the risk he could’ve been disturbed.’
She looked around at the faces before her. ‘Why does he take these risks? We need to start building a profile on Sara Thornton and comparing it to Nola Grant. So far they seem to come from completely different walks of life. Their backgrounds differ completely, but there must be something they have in common, no matter how random we may think our man has been.
‘Where does Sara hang out? Who with? Sara lives in Willian, Letchworth. I know I don’t need to point out that it’s an affluent area. In contrast, Nola lived in a rough part of Haverbridge. There may not seem to be any link but Sara is a solicitor. Nola has been in trouble before. Did Sara ever represent her? There may be a reason their paths have crossed.’
Jane cut in, voicing what most people had on their minds. ‘Are we treating Sara as a potential murder victim?’
Claire saw all eyes were on her. ‘We know this is the same man who had an interest in Nola Grant and most likely killed her or knows who did. We need to be prepared for the possibility that Sara’s next.’ There were a few more murmurs, and Claire raised her hands, her signal to quieten down.
‘OK, here’s what I want to happen,’ she said. ‘Harper and Cleaver, I want you to go to Barratt & Causeland. Speak to anyone who was around when she left last night. Show them the stills taken from the CCTV. Sara stayed in work out of normal office hours, which means the cleaners would have been in. Speak to the cleaning company and talk to whoever was working last night.’
She paused for breath, then continued. ‘Bayley’s. It’s opposite Sara’s work. From the CCTV taken outside the office block, we were able to find out the man was waiting in there before she left.’
‘They’ll have cameras,’ Crest said.
Claire nodded. ‘Yes, and hopefully we might be able to get a better angle on his face. Also talk to the staff. Someone must remember something about him.’
Claire looked back at the LCD screen and rewound the recording a little, until she got to the place where the man grabbed Sara.
‘The news has already started to circulate to the local press and news stations,’ she said, turning to face the team. ‘This may go national. Sara Thornton is a totally different class of missing person. For obvious reasons, the public and media will be more sympathetic to finding this man.’
‘There’s a reason to be sympathetic to Nola too,’ Stefan said.
Claire knew what he meant. ‘Nola’s pregnancy, yes, I know. Tensions will be running high. The pregnancy still goes no further than these four walls at the moment, is that clear?’ A few more murmurs of agreement. Claire moved on quickly.
She finished giving out instructions, then began to close the briefing. ‘To quickly bring people up to speed, I’ve had Nola’s tox report from the pathologist. There were traces of cannabis found in her body, but nothing else was detected. The results of the PM confirm she died from loss of blood.’
She stared at Elias until he made eye contact. He knew something was up.
‘Daryl Thomas is being released.’
The words didn’t quite sink in, and Elias gave her a blank look. ‘You can’t do that.’
‘Yes, I can, and we can’t hold him for much longer anyway.’
‘I want to press charges for assault.’
‘But you’re not going to do that, Crest. Daryl’s account of what happened doesn’t look favourably on you either.’ Harper shifted uncomfortably. Elias went to protest but she cut him short. ‘This is not negotiable.’
Her eyes remained cold as she held his gaze. ‘We’ve too much going on with this investigation, and the fact Sara Thornton was taken by the same man as Nola Grant somewhat blows a hole in your theory about Thomas. He was in custody when Sara was taken. He’s not a part of this. You’ve ensured he had a cast-iron alibi.’
Elias shook his head. ‘I don’t like this. What message are we sending out if I let him walk out of here with a slap on the wrist?’
‘This is just your ego talking, Crest… let it go.’
His eyes narrowed in anger.
Patronising bitch.
After an awkward silence, Claire looked around the room. ‘Any more questions?’ No one raised anything. ‘OK,’ she continued, ‘DI Fletcher and I will be visiting Sara’s husband. If anyone needs me, I’m on my BlackBerry.’
CHAPTER 27
The pain in her stomach had built steadily over the last few hours, and despite its intensity, she couldn’t bring herself to scream any longer.
It was pointless.
Sara had spent hours crying for help, despite the man telling her the room was soundproofed, and she’d now run out of steam. She was huddled in a heap on the cold floor, leaning up against the wall, fighting sleep.
What if I don’t wake up again?
She’d asked herself the same question, over and over, whenever she felt her eyelids begin to close under the heavy weight of exhaustion. She’d seen the man only briefly since she’d woken in the basement. He had brought her food, but it had upset her stomach. Either that or it was the pure fear that was eating away at her limbs, chewing away at her flesh.
She had no idea how long she’d been awake. He’d taken her watch and there was no window, so she couldn’t even hazard a guess at the time of day. She’d asked the time, but he’d ignored her. She yanked on the chain around the pipe, haphazardly, hoping it might suddenly break and free her.
It didn’t.
/> She found herself sinking lower within herself. Sleep was winning out. After fighting with her body to stay awake for several more minutes, she found herself resisting the urge to wrestle with the idea any more.
She let her eyes close.
*
‘Do you remember me?’ The voice seemed to penetrate inside her head and rattle around, shaking her back to life. Her eyes began to open. She saw nothing at first, except white lights dancing in a haze, her eyes beginning to focus in the dim light.
She heard a man’s voice say her name, and like a flick of a switch, she bolted upright, suddenly remembering everything.
His cold eyes met hers.
He was sitting cross-legged in front of her, watching her every movement. ‘I asked if you remembered me?’ he said. ‘It hasn’t been that long since I saw you last, has it?’
Part of her knew the voice was familiar. His face had familiar features, but she couldn’t place them. It was the voice… definitely the voice.
‘Do you remember me?’
His eyes searched the room, then shot back to hers when she didn’t answer him. He threw himself forward, his face inches from hers.
‘DO YOU KNOW WHO I AM!?’
She screamed back at him, ‘NO! … No, I don’t know who you are, or what you want.’ Her voice gave away the fear she felt inside, but she tried to keep her face neutral. ‘Where am I?’
The man shook his head. ‘You don’t recall me at all?’
She shook her head.
‘That… disappoints me, Sara, it really does.’
‘Don’t.’
He looked at her curiously at first, then a smile spread across his lips. ‘Don’t what?’
‘Don’t you say my name, you animal.’ Her voice was strained and she knew he could see her trembling.
‘You know nothing about me,’ he said, his mouth set in a cruel line. ‘You can’t even remember seeing me before, yet you call me an animal all the same?’
‘I’ve never met you. You must have confused me with someone else. It’s not too late to let me go. I promise I won’t say anything to anybody.’
The man laughed and looked away. ‘They all say that.’
His words silenced her.
She felt a tear begin to roll down her cheek. ‘What do you want with me?’
His face seemed to soften a little as he looked back at her pale face. Her hair now looked ragged, stray strands plastered across her forehead. Her make-up had run and black mascara lines had dried on her cheeks. She shook her head.
‘I don’t understand.’
‘You will soon enough,’ he said, voice almost tender. He eased himself to his feet, and was amused when she backed herself closer against the wall.
He grabbed a wooden chair that he’d brought down to the basement while she slept, and placed it in the middle of the floor. He turned the back of it to face her, adjusted it a little until he was satisfied, then straddled it. His arms folded over the backrest and he supported his chin on his forearms. He watched her closely but she avoided his stare.
He knew she was intimidated, but she needed to know he was the teacher and she would be his student… whether she liked it or not.
‘Do you like your job, Sara?’
The question took her off guard. She hesitated, staring at his face for any hint of what his intentions might be. She saw nothing but curiosity in his eyes.
‘What kind of question is that? How do you even know what I do?’ Silence. His eyes seemed to silently repeat the question. ‘Yes,’ she said, ‘I like my job.’
‘You consider yourself valued?’
‘I’m a solicitor. I help people.’
‘What about your marriage?’ He saw her tense. ‘I think you need the help, Sara, but not in the way you might think.’ She looked away from him and brought her knees up towards her chin.
Her thoughts turned back to Gregg. How he must be worried for her. She tried to forget the weight of the man’s stare, despite feeling as if he was looking deep inside her, raping her soul.
‘You have a lot of arrogance,’ he said at length, ‘but you mustn’t worry, I can help you with that.’
‘All I want to do is go home.’
‘And you will, when I’m done with you.’ He got off the chair and paced the room. ‘I’m not a monster, Sara.’ He paused, the next words painful to say. ‘Parts of my childhood were… less than desirable, but I had an angel watching over me.’ He laughed then. ‘Not the feather-winged variety – I don’t believe they’re real – but I mean in a metaphorical sense.’ His eyes turned serious. ‘There was a woman in my life who showed me the way. She helped me. She moulded me into a better person.’
He stopped in front of her. He smiled. ‘This is how I plan to help you, dearest Sara.’ He paced the room again. His face was pained when the distant memory resurfaced and it was hard to bear.
Sara watched him carefully.
She’d seen a programme on television years ago that said, if you ever found yourself in a situation like this, where you were abducted, stolen away, for whatever purpose, you should always try and leave as much evidence behind for those who try to find you. Show them that you were there.
That you did exist.
Sara had thought of the possibility that she might never make it out of the basement. That these hours might be her last. She knew Gregg would have contacted the police and that people were looking for her.
She knew she should start leaving traces of herself wherever she could. She had no doubt that this man would clean up, try to cover his tracks if he did kill her, but he couldn’t guarantee eradicating everything.
She cast a look over her shoulder.
The man was pouring her a glass of water from the jug on the table in the middle of the room. His back was to her.
She raised her fingers to her mouth. She nibbled on the nail of her right index finger until it broke away, leaving a jagged edge. She kept the nail in her mouth a moment, looked around, and discreetly placed it behind the pipe on the floor.
Leave evidence you were here. Leave evidence you existed.
The man came back over, handing her a plastic cup of water. ‘You must be thirsty.’
Her mouth felt like a desert and as much as she didn’t want to accept anything from him, she grabbed at the cup.
She took a large mouthful.
He sat down on the floor in front of her again, leaned forward and smiled. ‘I’ve waited a long time for this moment. To hear you speak to me properly, tell me about your fears, your hopes, your dreams.’
‘We’ve spoken before?’
‘Oh yes.’ He smiled.
She sneered at him. ‘I’ve nothing to tell you.’
His face dropped, eyes growing dark again. He shook his head.
‘Now we both know that’s not true, Sara, my darling.’
CHAPTER 28
Gregg Thornton was barely thirty years old. He had married Sara after a short engagement, and at first it had been a fairy tale dream come true. They were both successful; Sara a solicitor and he an accountant for the company he co-owned with his friend and business partner, Mason Clarke.
Both were from wealthy families and both had a taste for the finer things in life. They frequented expensive restaurants and stayed in luxurious hotels on holiday to which they flew first class. They owned expensive cars and took pride in their appearance. Both belonged to a top gym, wore designer clothes and were envied by many.
They were the beautiful couple, in the perfect marriage, or so everyone thought. But, as is often the case, there were flaws, and after a few blissful months, the cracks had begun to appear.
Barely having the time for each other due to their busy work schedules, the romance was brief and fleeting. They had spent the last five years becoming more like friends than husband and wife and lately, not even that.
Gregg had suggested they try psychotherapy after hearing about it through a mutual friend, and Sara had agreed. Whilst he thought they
had been making progress, she had her doubts, but kept them to herself. Last night had been their ‘date night’, and he felt numb sitting on the sofa thinking about the last words he’d said to her. He had been cruel and harsh, and he deeply regretted it.
Claire studied Gregg, sitting in front of her, then turned to his friend.
Mason Clarke was doing all the talking, answering all their questions with ease, and seeming in complete control. Gregg Thornton, however, was a mess.
He kept running his hands through his blond hair, then sniffing away imaginary tears, as if he’d cried every drop of moisture from his body, and all that remained was dry bone and withered tissue. His skin was pallid, his eyes red-raw, lips bloodless and his body was bent almost double in a heap on the sofa.
Claire had asked the basic questions, but she was now concentrating on the voice of the caller. ‘You don’t recall anything about the man’s voice? No accent or distinguishing tone?’
Gregg shook his head, then said, ‘Maybe.’ Then another shake of the head, followed by, ‘No. Nothing.’
‘This is getting us nowhere,’ Mason said. ‘Why is this relevant?’ He stood and folded his arms as he paced around the sofa. ‘Surely you have eye witnesses? You already have him on CCTV and a car reg.’
‘No one has come forward yet. The images on camera are hazy at best, with perfect shots of the back of his head, and he’s using fake plates,’ Claire said, breaking off as Mason’s face began to register the problem she was faced with. ‘We really need Mr Thornton to remember anything he can, no matter how insignificant he thinks it might be, if we are to find his wife.’
Gregg suddenly dropped his head in his hands. ‘Would you not talk about me as if I wasn’t here?’ His hands trembled as he looked up at Mason, then at Claire. ‘He said Sara was his now.’ He looked at Stefan, who was sitting beside Claire. ‘God knows what he’s doing to her.’ His voice faltered, as fresh tears welled in his eyes.
‘This is a joke,’ Mason said, shaking his head. Claire looked at him. He was a heavy-set man, with dark features and olive skin. His hair was shoulder-length, curly and almost black. He had large brown eyes to match.
The Principle of Evil: A Fast-Paced Serial Killer Thriller (DCI Claire Winters, Book 2) Page 13