by A. S. French
‘You’ve had no news on what he’s said?’
‘That’s well below my pay grade. I’m just glad the Chief didn’t laugh at me and set Wylie free.’
Astrid remembered the things Julie had said to her in that basement. ‘Maybe they still will.’
Her heart sank as she rubbed her finger. They may have stopped Wylie and Cope’s killing spree, but she still had to find Alex. She’d failed, and she didn’t know what to do about it.
Grace must have read her mind.
‘Cope didn’t give you any clue as to what happened to Sanchez?’
A smaller version of Astrid stomped around inside her head and karate kicked the sides of her skull. ‘It was all a trick, and I was too desperate and gullible to realise it until it was too late.’
‘It’s not your fault. You had to try everything to find her.’
The way Grace spoke, it was as if she’d given up on the girl. As Astrid touched the phone inside her jacket, her mind wandered to thoughts of Olivia and England.
I’m too dangerous to be around, so how can I expose my niece to that? Courtney was right all along.
The door opened as that thought burnt into her brain, and Chief Tanner entered. He nodded at Astrid while holding an evidence bag towards Grace: it contained a phone.
‘We found a dozen of these in Wylie’s house. Can you guess what’s on them?’ His lips curled upwards in an impersonation of Jack Nicholson on his most manic days.
Julie Cope’s voice lingered inside Astrid’s head. ‘He took videos of their victims. Cope said he was taking more and more risks.’
‘You’re correct, Ms Snow. I’ve only had a brief look at this one, the material is far too distressing for extended viewing, but Forensics and Cybercrime say there’s enough evidence on this device alone to put him behind bars for the rest of his life.’
Grace wiped coffee from her trembling lips. ‘What about Cope? Is she in any of the videos?’
Tanner’s smile vanished in a blink of an eye. ‘We haven’t gone through every phone yet, so I don’t know, but there’s nothing to incriminate Cope so far. The good news is Wylie is singing like a bird as we speak, so I have no doubt he’ll implicate his partner in all their crimes. But I thought you could interrogate Cope and get her side of the story, Detective Crowley.’
Astrid observed the shock sweep through Grace’s body as her eyes threatened to bulge out of her head like an over-excited frog’s.
‘What?’ Grace stammered.
‘A promotion is long overdue, Crowley, and with what you did bringing them in, there’s no time like the present. Plus, the department is two detectives short at the moment. You’ll get your new badge in the morning.’ He pushed the evidence bag closer to her. ‘So, are you ready to interrogate Cope?’
Grace turned to Astrid as she took the phone from Tanner. ‘My first official decision is to ask you to join me in the interview room, Astrid Snow, if you want to.’
Astrid watched Cope through the window, studying her relaxed manner and the massive smile on her face. The Detective’s confidence was unwavering, regardless of the circumstances she found herself in.
Was she lying to me in Fowler’s house, saying she didn’t know what happened to Alex? She might be the last chance I have of finding the girl. And we did have a connection, no matter how brief it was.
‘After you, Detective Crowley.’
Grace led Astrid into the room and stopped across the table from their suspect. The smile never left Cope’s face, and she looked at them as if preparing for a night out.
‘I assume my lawyer is on the way.’
Astrid sat first, waiting for Grace to start the recording equipment, but she didn’t, addressing Cope instead.
‘This isn’t a formal interview, Detective. We’ll begin that when your legal representation arrives. We want a word with you before that.’
‘Let me guess, ladies; you’re going to offer me a deal if I tell you where Alex Sanchez is.’
Astrid’s knuckles cracked as she placed her arms on the table. ‘Were you lying to me before; do you know where she is?’
Cope’s smirk increased the irritation wriggling underneath Astrid’s skin. ‘I’ll keep saying it until the cows come home or it finally gets into your skull: I have no knowledge of what happened to Alex Sanchez or any missing kids from this town or any other.’ Her eyes sparkled. ‘I had one night of lust with Ms Snow, and that was enough for me. She appears to have taken the rejection personally and has cooked up this ridiculous story of me as a sadomasochistic serial killer.’ Cope glanced towards the glass where Tanner observed her from the other side. ‘There’s no proof for any of her fantasies, and I’m surprised, and not a little offended, that people in this station are falling for it.’ She rubbed her hands and leant into the chair. ‘And that’s all I’m going to say until my lawyer arrives.’
It was Grace’s turn to smile as she placed the bag containing one of Wylie’s phones on the table. ‘There’s video evidence on here and on other devices Wylie used, incriminating him and you in numerous crimes, including but not limited to the following: abduction and kidnapping, torture, rape, and murder.’ Grace clasped her hands together. ‘What do you say to that, Detective Cope?’
Julie Cope lost her grin, replacing it with a blank expression. ‘Why isn’t Tanner or one of the other Detectives interviewing me?’ She appeared offended by the assumed slight. ‘I don’t answer to you, Officer Crowley.’
‘Grace was promoted, Jules; she’s Detective Crowley now.’ Astrid grinned at her. ‘And you and Wylie, with the help of all the videos he made, are going to make her famous.’
Cope crossed her arms and scrutinised Astrid. ‘This is just for you, Snow; once the lawyer arrives, I’ll be saying nothing until I know what you get from Wylie.’
Tension rippled through Astrid’s shoulders. ‘Thank you, Jules.’
Her stomach was in knots as she spoke, but she knew she couldn’t antagonise Cope if she wanted the truth.
Cope pushed the chair back and stretched her legs.
‘Alex Sanchez’s disappearance is nothing to do with me, and I don’t know where she is.’ She looked at Astrid. ‘Sorry, love.’ Then she turned to Crowley. ‘Since the day I met Detective Wylie, he manipulated and groomed me into doing everything he desired. He used emotional and physical means to control me, and if I questioned him or refused to do what he wanted, he would beat me violently. He also sexually assaulted me on many occasions.’ She sighed loudly. ‘This has gone on for at least five years, and I’ve had to switch off emotionally at times to live with the horror he’s put me through.’
Astrid shook her head. ‘You’re saying none of your criminal actions has been your own, that Detective Wylie forced you to kidnap, torture, rape, and kill several teenagers?’
Julie Cope’s lips trembled as she moved closer to the table, holding her hand towards Astrid. ‘It’s all true; whatever you find on his videos, he made me do.’ A single tear trickled down her face. ‘Look at him compared to me; he’s six foot three, two hundred and twenty pounds of muscle.’ She wiped at her cheek. ‘How could I fight back against someone like that?’
Astrid had sat across from many expert liars in her time, but Julie Cope was one of the best. She already had an image of her convincing the toughest of juries of her innocence.
‘You could have gone to your superiors, Jules; there are plenty of people you might have spoken to about Wylie’s actions.’
‘This tough exterior I portray is only a façade.’ She unfolded her fingers towards Astrid like a blossoming flower. ‘This is why we connected so quickly because I recognised the same thing in you.’ She placed her other hand on her heart. ‘Inside, I’m weak and vulnerable, and Wylie took that and exploited me.’
She pulled her hands back and buried her head in them. Grace and Astrid glanced at each other.
‘We should postpone this conversation until your lawyer arrives, Detective Cope,’ Grace said.
; Cope lifted her head and wiped her shaking fingers across her face. ‘The day our home burnt down, I was in my room watching TV. It was two in the morning, and my younger sister and parents were sound asleep. It was the heat I felt first, my skin burning when I tried to open my bedroom door.’ She held up her hand. ‘My flesh healed years ago, but the scars are still there.’
Astrid studied her face, impressed by the mask Julie had managed to pull on so quickly. She wondered if she’d constructed this story a long time ago for a moment such as this.
‘I’d fallen asleep watching Buffy, my mind full of images of me killing monsters. I’m not sure how the fire started, but later, the police told me they thought it was in the wiring. The house was old, passed on from my grandparents to my parents. I woke up to an inferno and jumped for the door. When I fell back from the heat, the smoke billowed black across the room, filling my lungs with dark fingers, clawing at my heart. I don’t know how I climbed out of the window, but I did, falling twenty feet into the garden and breaking a leg and arm. I lay and waited for the sirens to arrive, peering into the flames and knowing the rest of my family had died.’ She gazed into Astrid’s eyes. ‘I was never the same after that, always weak on the inside.’
Cope sat back and folded her arms. Astrid was lost for words. She stood, and Grace followed her out of the room.
Chief Tanner was outside waiting for them.
‘Wow, she knows how to weave a tale. All the years I’ve known Julie, and it’s the first I’ve heard of this.’
Astrid couldn’t help but admire the woman, no matter how monstrous she was. ‘It was a witchery of fiction at the highest level. Imagine how a jury will respond to that when you get her in court and on the stand.’ She looked at Tanner. ‘Have you found any video evidence of her in Wylie’s collection?’
He held out his hands. ‘My officers continue to sift through the material, but, from the little I’ve viewed, there’s some terrible stuff there, and even for hardened professionals, it’s not an easy thing to do.’ He peered at Cope through the glass. ‘She must know there’s video incriminating her to make up a story like that.’
Astrid thought the same, watching Julie on the other side of the room, happy she’d managed to end the woman’s terrible crimes. But a tremendous ache continued to punch at her heart.
Now she had to tell Christina Sanchez she believed her daughter was dead.
26 Caravan of Love
‘Do you want to continue when her lawyer turns up?’
Astrid considered what she’d heard in the other room. ‘You stick with her, Grace. I have to see Christina Sanchez.’
Bad news follows me around until it gets ahead of me.
Grace edged closer to her. ‘There’s something I need to tell you.’
Astrid recognised the invisible weight on her friend’s shoulders, guessing it was there to mirror the despair in her heart because they hadn’t found Alex.
‘I’m listening, Grace.’
Detective Crowley took a deep breath. ‘I didn’t tell you the whole truth about what happened at the well.’ She glanced through the glass at Cope examining her nails. ‘I said Manny saw the girls drop me down, and then came and rescued me, but it wasn’t like that.’ She took another deep breath. ‘He didn’t see what happened; he only found me because I was crying for so long.’
‘How long were you in there?’
Grace shook her head. ‘I don’t know, more than an hour at least. I thought the girls would come back for me, but they never did. I sat in the dark, jumping every time something crawled over me or I heard a noise. I was a wreck by the time Manny got me out.’
‘Did you tell your grandmother this?’
‘No, I couldn’t, but deep down, I think she knew I’d kept something from her. The nightmares came each night until my teenage years. She said it was all in my mind, and there was nothing to scare me in the dark.’ She turned and stared at Cope through the glass. ‘But I knew she was wrong.’
Astrid did something unusual for her: she pulled Grace close and hugged her. They stood in silence until she let go.
‘Are you going to be okay if I go and talk to Christina?’
Grace nodded and gave her the car keys. ‘Take these. I’ll see you at my place.’
Astrid took a last look at Julie Cope through the glass before she left. Cope’s eyes had frozen over like the surface of a winter lake, robbing them of her intensity. The real Jules was in there, Astrid knew it, but now she’d retreated into a shell, into a façade to show the rest of the world. Perhaps it was only one of many masks she’d projected in her life, all to hide that person who enjoyed inflicting suffering and death on to others. She didn’t know why, maybe it had something to do with what Grace had told her, but she had the urge to reach inside and tell Cope it was better to release her pain, to open up instead of burying it behind falsehood, cruelty, and murder.
The story Cope had told them was a detailed construction proving how manipulative she was. Had she and Wylie lied about Alex and the initials on the bottom of the door to their murder chamber? The image of the events in that room made her hands ache even more. As she left the building, she hoped there were no clips of Alex in Wylie’s collection. It was terrible to think she might never find the girl, but she couldn’t bear the thought of seeing her on video if it was to watch her suffer and die.
As she drove to the trailer park, she ran through the things she’d say to Christina; none of them made her feel any good. The early morning sun flickered across the sky as she entered the gates. The streets were quiet as she got out of the car; even the dogs slept, snoozing outside the trailers. She flexed her fingers, but the pain wouldn’t go away. It wasn’t from the damage Cope had done but from her inability to discover the girl she’d been tasked to find.
This time, Astrid paid more attention to the homes as she went, admiring how each was personalised to stand out from the rest. Some were painted with exotic dragons or brightly feathered birds, while vibrant colours stretching from the top to the gap between the bottom and the ground covered the others.
She wondered how none of this had grabbed her attention before, realising her focus on finding Alex had distracted her from things that were right in front of her face.
Astrid reached the Sanchez home and paused. Initially, it was to gather her thoughts, taking no account of the time and how her presence would inconvenience Christina, but then a realisation froze her mind as well as her legs. There was something different about the trailer compared to all the rest. She’d noticed it before, but it hadn’t meant anything significant to her then.
The gap between the bottom and the ground was obscured by ornaments placed in front of it. She moved closer, glancing at the other homes, and then back to Christina’s: it was smaller in height than the others. She double-checked; perhaps it was just a different model, a shorter one.
No, it wasn’t that.
She ran towards it, dropping to the ground and pushing the Disney figures and potted plants out of the way. The trailer had no legs, no support; it stood on the cement, no gap to separate it. Astrid turned away and sprinted up the steps, hand out to bang on the door; it creaked open without her touching it.
‘Christina, are you here?’ The place was a mess, with magazines strewn everywhere, a table broken in half and the television on its side. ‘Christina?’
Her feet crunched through the smashed glass, and then she saw the lump in the carpet. She reached down and pulled the material away, revealing the hatch which hadn’t been closed properly. Astrid got her fingers into the gap and dragged it open. Her hands throbbed as she touched the ladder built into the side.
What is it about this town and underground rooms?
She removed the phone from her pocket and turned on the torch, her memory flashing back to the recent excursion below the earth near the river.
‘Christina, are you there?’ she shouted with one hand shining light into the dark and the other on the first rung of the ladder.
/>
She ignored any concern for her safety and lowered herself into the space; it was roomy, half the trailer’s length and the same width. It had been dug into the concrete below the motorhome, hidden beneath the vehicle. She couldn’t tell if it was a recent construction or not, but it wasn’t as old as Cope and Wylie’s underground torture chamber.
She moved the torch across the space: there was no damage, only an unmade bed, a small bookshelf crammed with items, and a laptop humming on the floor.
Astrid sat on the bed and picked up the computer; it was still warm and had twenty minutes of battery left. She touched the screen, and it sprang to life, static electricity penetrating her flesh.
The background picture was an image of Alex and Christina smiling into the camera, but it wasn’t that which attracted her attention. Down the side was a stack of digital folders, named for things Alex was interested in or attended: protests, demonstrations, charity events, fundraisers, and on it went until the very last one and a name she instantly recognised.
Roger Taylor. What are you doing on a teenage girl’s computer?
She moved the pointer on to the yellow icon and opened it. Inside were pictures and videos. Astrid selected all the images, right-clicked on them, and picked the photo gallery option.
‘Fuck!’ She closed them all just as quickly. She didn’t need to go through a dozen or so naked photos of Taylor; one was enough. Were these sent to Christina, and Alex had found them?
The first video answered that question in the negative.
‘You have a beautiful body, Alex,’ Taylor said on the clip.
Vitriol shot through Astrid’s stomach and up her throat. Forcing herself to watch five seconds of the two of them having sex, she switched it off and spat on to the floor.
You perverted scumbag.
‘I love that video; it’s my favourite of them all.’
Astrid turned to see Taylor pointing a gun at her. ‘What did you do to her?’ Wrath and venom were a heady mixture in her mouth.