Taken to Die: A chilling crime thriller (DCI Danny Flint Book 4)

by Trevor Negus

  ‘So let me get this straight. You want me to defend a lookout? Why is this high-profile?’

  ‘This is the case that’s been all over the news, Rebecca. The postmaster was beaten with a lump hammer. He almost died. It’s the Denton Post Office robbery. You must have heard about it?’

  She had indeed heard of the horrendous case. This was most definitely the kind of high-profile, media-enriched trial that she craved. Without further hesitation, she said, ‘I’ll take it. Pass me the brief, Sebastien.’

  With a greasy smile, the portly clerk handed over the bundle of documents, tied with the traditional dark pink ribbon, to Rebecca Whitchurch.

  He then handed out the remaining two briefs, again overlooking a seething Freddie Fletcher.

  The young barrister huffed, stood up and stormed out of the lounge.

  Rebecca chuckled and said, ‘Somebody’s not a happy bunny.’

  Dominic grinned and took another sip of Earl Grey tea.

  Sebastien Dawson had noted the reaction of Freddie Fletcher. He would seek him out later and make sure he was promised the next available brief. He knew Fletcher was a bright and capable young man who would eventually become a brilliant barrister. He didn’t want to field yet another complaint made by a junior, and he didn’t want to lose a barrister of the calibre of Fletcher to another chambers.

  For now, at least, he would have to toe the line and ensure that Dominic and Rebecca Whitchurch continued to get the pick of briefs.

  7

  3.45pm, 2 October 1986

  North Sherwood Street, Nottingham

  It was rapidly getting dark now, the nights had been closing in for a while, and the black rainclouds overhead made it appear even darker. It had been raining hard for the last ten minutes, and she had kept the Mini’s engine running, with the windscreen wipers on intermittent, as she waited. It was the only way to stop the windscreen misting over.

  Sitting alone in her car, Alina Moraru was beginning to get very worried.

  She had arrived at the arranged meeting place at the junction of North Sherwood Street and Alpha Terrace ten minutes later than normal.

  The arrangement made with the girl’s mother had been for Alina to pick her daughter up directly outside the gates of the Nottingham High School for Girls, not a couple of streets away.

  Alina had been employed by Rebecca Whitchurch for three months now. The twenty-two-year-old Romanian had been delighted to land the role of au pair at the Mapperley Park home Rebecca Whitchurch shared with her husband, Dominic, and fourteen-year-old daughter, Emily. Rebecca Whitchurch had been impressed by the standard of Alina’s spoken English and had not hesitated to employ the young Romanian.

  It was a wonderful job that Alina loved and desperately wanted to keep. The money was excellent, and the work wasn’t very taxing. Rebecca’s husband, Dominic, treated her with respect, and her room at the top of the large house was comfortable and beautifully furnished. Most importantly, the Whitchurch house was very near the bedsit owned by her Romanian boyfriend, Florin Chirilov. Elm Bank, in the nearby Sherwood Rise area, was only a fifteen-minute walk away.

  The only downside to the job was the behaviour of the Whitchurches’ daughter, Emily.

  She was nothing short of a precocious brat who ridiculed Alina at every opportunity. Even though she was still only a teenager, Emily constantly spoke down to her and ordered her about. The young girl constantly made insulting comments about Alina’s plump figure. Alina had always been self-conscious about her weight. She wasn’t overweight but had a curvy figure accentuated by her short stature. The young au pair had to bite her tongue on many occasions for fear of upsetting the young brat’s parents. She knew if she spoke out of turn, she would lose her job.

  It was the daughter’s fault that Alina was now waiting on North Sherwood Street and not at the school gates as instructed. Emily had complained incessantly, saying that it was an embarrassment having the hired help pick her up in her tatty little car in front of the entire school.

  Emily had subsequently ordered Alina to wait two streets away. That way only her two best friends, Rosie and Polly, would see the atrocious, battered old Mini that she was collected in every day.

  Alina knew it had been wrong to cave in to the daughter’s demands, but she desperately wanted to keep her job. She couldn’t risk upsetting Emily and consequently her parents. Everything had gone without a hitch up to this point, as she had always been waiting at the junction of North Sherwood Street and Alpha Terrace in plenty of time.

  Today had been different. Alina had arrived at the meeting point ten minutes late. She knew it had been a mistake to go to Florin’s flat in the afternoon. As soon as he had started kissing her neck in that special way, she had been powerless to resist, and they had ended up in bed.

  Making love with Florin at his flat was the reason she had arrived late and was now worried sick.

  Where was the stupid girl?

  She peered through the windscreen. As the wipers shifted the excess water from the glass, she finally saw the girl walking towards the car.

  A wave of relief washed over her as she recognised the navy-blue blazer and blue check skirt of the school uniform. As she got closer, Alina could also see the distinctive long blonde hair, which was soaking wet and stuck to the girl’s face and shoulders.

  A joyful Alina jumped out of the Mini and shouted, ‘Where have you been, Emily? Hurry up and get in the car. You’re soaked!’

  The girl was now much closer.

  A huge sense of panic coursed through Alina’s body as she suddenly realised that the young, blonde schoolgirl in front of her wasn’t Emily.

  The young schoolgirl looked worriedly across the road, glancing nervously at the woman who had shouted to her.

  Seeing the worried expression on the girl’s face, Alina said quickly, ‘I’m so sorry, I thought you were somebody else. Do you know Emily Whitchurch?’

  The young girl laughed and said, ‘Everyone at school knows Emily Whitchurch.’

  ‘Have you seen her? Is she walking far behind you?’

  ‘She’s not behind me. Emily left school ages ago.’

  Alina was panicking big style now; she didn’t care what the precocious brat would say, she was driving to the school right now.

  She jumped back in the Mini and started the engine. Within a couple of minutes, she was parking the small car outside the main entrance to the Nottingham High School for Girls. She got out, locked the car and, ignoring the torrential rain, raced inside the school.

  Alina saw a female teacher in the main corridor and said, ‘I’m here to collect Emily Whitchurch. Is she here?’

  The teacher could see the panic in the young woman’s face and said calmly, ‘Wait here, my dear. I’ll find out where Emily is.’

  The teacher then left Alina alone in the corridor.

  Alina was worried sick now. Questions and recriminations raced through her mind. Why did I arrive late? Where is Emily? What will her parents say? Why did Florin kiss my neck like that?

  The return of the teacher, with an older woman, dragged Alina back from her thoughts.

  With an air of authority in her voice, the older woman said, ‘I’m Mrs Henson, the deputy head. May I ask who you are, young lady?’

  ‘My name is Alina Moraru. I’m the au pair employed by the Whitchurch family. It’s part of my job to collect Emily from school every day. She hasn’t walked to my car today, and I’m very worried. Is she still here?’

  ‘I’m afraid not, Miss Moraru. Emily left at three thirty. I watched her walk out the school gates myself.’

  ‘Who was she with?’

  ‘Nobody. She was alone.’

  ‘That’s not right. You couldn’t have seen Emily; she always walks with her friends Rosie and Polly.’

  ‘You must mean Rosie Penwarden and Polly Garrett. Rosie and Polly are still here in school. They’re doing rehearsals for the school play this evening. I’m sorry, but it was definitely Emily I saw leaving at thr
ee thirty. Is there anything we can do?’

  ‘No, thank you. I need to go.’

  Alina’s heart was racing as she ran out of the school and back to her car. What should I do now? Where can I look? Where is the stupid brat?

  She started the car and began driving slowly around the desolate, dark streets, searching for Emily. The rain was torrential, and as her warm body reacted to her soaking wet clothes, the windows in the small car began to steam up, making it almost impossible to see anything outside.

  After fifteen minutes of aimless driving around, Alina made the decision to make her way back to the Whitchurch residence at Mapperley Park. She needed to find out if, somehow, Emily had got home by herself.

  She drove her car slowly along Mansfield Road, aggravating other road users with her dawdling pace. Disgruntled motorists noisily sounded their car horns as they passed the crawling Mini. Alina didn’t care about the other cars. She desperately wanted to see a soaking wet, angry Emily. She would put up with any amount of foul language and name-calling just to see her walking along the road.

  There was no sign of the blonde teenager.

  Eventually, Alina found herself outside the Whitchurch residence on Richmond Drive, Mapperley Park. She drove her car onto the driveway. The large, detached house was still completely in darkness. Neither of the cars owned by Dominic and Rebecca Whitchurch were on the drive. More importantly, there was no sign of a soaking wet Emily waiting outside the front door.

  Alina parked the Mini, got out and walked to the front door. Using her key, she let herself in and shouted, ‘Emily! Are you home already?’

  There was no school bag dumped in the hall, and no wet coat or blazer hanging on the bannister post.

  The girl hadn’t made her own way home.

  Alina slumped onto the bottom stair and began to sob. Through teary eyes, she glanced at her wristwatch. It was now almost five o’clock. An ice-cold fear descended upon her and gripped her heart, making her shudder involuntarily.

  She stood up and walked down the hallway to the telephone.

  She needed to call the girl’s mother.

  Alina subconsciously made the decision not to tell Mrs Whitchurch about being late, or that she had arranged with Emily to meet her away from the school gates. That damning information could come later.

  Right now, she needed to tell a mother that her daughter was missing. That was bad enough.

  8

  6.30pm, 2 October 1986

  De Montfort House, Richmond Drive, Mapperley Park, Nottingham

  Rebecca Whitchurch stormed into the house, closely followed by her husband. As soon as she saw Alina sitting on the bottom stair in the hallway, she shouted, ‘What the hell’s going on?’

  The young au pair was already close to tears. She sobbed, ‘I don’t know where Emily is.’

  ‘Explain yourself, girl. What do you mean, you don’t know where she is?’

  ‘I mean, I went to the school and waited outside the gates as usual, but she never came out. I waited and waited, and eventually I went into the school and spoke to a teacher, who told me that Emily had already left. I’ve been driving round the streets looking for her, but I can’t find her. I’m so sorry.’

  Dominic muttered under his breath, ‘Not again.’

  Rebecca rounded on him and hissed, ‘Not now, Dom, and definitely not in front of her!’

  Dominic put his hands up, palms facing out in mock surrender, and turned away.

  Rebecca turned back to the au pair and said angrily, ‘Exactly what time did you get to the school?’

  Alina knew there were cameras on the gates of the house, which would have logged the time she left earlier. She also knew that Rebecca Whitchurch did not approve of her boyfriend, Florin.

  She hated lying to her boss, but she felt she was left with no alternative if she wanted to keep her job, so she said, ‘I left the house at one o’clock to go to the shops. I needed to buy cleaning products for the house. I went into town to fetch them first; then I went to the school. I got there at three fifteen, in plenty of time. I sat there and watched as all the girls came out, but there was no sign of Emily. I started to get panicky, so I went inside to try to find her.’

  ‘Didn’t you see any of her friends?’

  Alina didn’t like to say that Emily only had two friends, so she just said, ‘No, I was concentrating on looking for Emily.’

  ‘You said you’ve been driving round looking for her; where exactly have you looked?’

  ‘Everywhere. I’ve been driving round for ages. I’m sorry; I don’t know all the names of the streets yet.’

  Dominic said quietly, ‘This is getting us nowhere. We need to call the police and report her missing. It’s already been dark for over an hour, and our daughter’s out there somewhere.’

  Rebecca put her head in her hands and nodded, acknowledging her husband. She removed her hands and stared hard at Alina. Fixing her with an unblinking gaze, she said menacingly, ‘Are you telling the truth, Alina? Were you outside the school on time?’

  Unable to bear Rebecca’s eyes boring into her, Alina looked down at the floor. When she replied, her voice was barely a whisper, ‘Of course, Mrs Whitchurch. I’m sorry.’

  With a disgusted look on her face, Rebecca hissed, ‘Go to your room. The police will want to talk to you when they get here.’

  Alina nodded, turned and ran upstairs. She just couldn’t face her angry employer anymore, and she was terrified that the police would soon find out the truth.

  Dominic waited until the au pair was out of earshot before picking up the telephone in the hallway. He dialled the number for the local police station and said softly, ‘Hello. I want to report my fourteen-year-old daughter missing. She hasn’t arrived home from school.’

  There was a long pause; then Dominic said, ‘Her name’s Emily Whitchurch, and yes, she’s been missing before. Our home address is De Montfort House, Richmond Drive, Mapperley Park.’

  There was another, shorter pause before he said, ‘Okay, ten minutes. See you soon. Thanks, Sergeant.’

  He put the phone down, turned to Rebecca, and said, ‘The police are on their way.’

  9

  6.45pm, 2 October 1986

  De Montfort House, Richmond Drive, Mapperley Park, Nottingham

  There was a loud knock on the front door. Dominic walked from the lounge and opened the door to a uniformed policewoman.

  ‘Come in, please. My wife’s in the lounge.’

  PC Sandra Tyler had been told by her sergeant to get to the property as quickly as possible. He had informed the experienced policewoman that Dominic and Rebecca Whitchurch were high-flying defence barristers, who would cause a shitstorm if everything wasn’t done quickly and by the book.

  This instruction had irritated Sandra Tyler. She liked to think that she always did her duty expeditiously and to the best of her ability. There would never be any favouritism shown to anyone, as far as she was concerned. She had just bitten her lip and told the sergeant that she was on her way.

  Dominic showed PC Tyler into the spacious, beautifully decorated lounge and said, ‘Please, take a seat.’ He remained standing near the door.

  PC Tyler sat down opposite Rebecca Whitchurch and said, ‘My sergeant, who took your call, has informed me your daughter’s been missing before, Mrs Whitchurch. When was that?’

  Rebecca answered, ‘Yes, she has. Only on one previous occasion, though, she isn’t constantly running off. That was just over three months ago.’

  ‘Where was she found last time?’

  It was the question Rebecca had been dreading, and this policewoman was straight into it.

  Rebecca leaned forward in the armchair, resting her elbows on her knees, and said quietly, ‘Emily was found in some dreadful squat, on Arboretum Street. She was on her own when the police found her. It seems she had been smoking cannabis and was quite out of it.’

  ‘I see. Did Emily tell you how she’d got to the squat?’

  ‘Sh
e told us, at the time, that she had been met outside the school by a man in a dark green car. She isn’t very good on cars. She told us that she didn’t know this man, but that he’d offered her the chance to try smoking cannabis. Like an idiot, she went along with him. She hasn’t spoken about it since and gets angry if we mention it. She did swear to us that she would never do it again.’

  ‘And this all happened outside the Nottingham High School for Girls, on Forest Road East?’

  ‘Yes, it did.’

  ‘Is she still at the same school?’

  ‘Yes, of course. It’s the most prestigious school in this city.’

  ‘I’ve got to ask this question, Mrs Whitchurch. Have either of you seen any evidence around your home that Emily still indulges in substance abuse?’

  ‘Of course we haven’t! We’re not stupid.’

  ‘I’m not saying you are. I know that some kids can be very resourceful in the way they hide things, especially from their parents.’

  A disgruntled Dominic said, ‘We’ve seen no evidence of substance abuse here, Officer. Does that answer your bloody question?’

  Registering the note of anger in his voice, PC Tyler looked across at Dominic and said flatly, ‘Yes, it does. Thank you.’

  Turning back to face Rebecca, she said, ‘You said that the last time Emily went missing, she was picked up outside the school by this mystery man. Was he ever traced?’

  ‘Not as far as we know. The police never contacted us to say he’d been traced.’

  ‘Since she went missing back then, have you put anything in place to prevent anything similar happening again?’

  ‘Alina, our au pair, picks her up from school every day. She waits outside the school gates, collects her and drives her home.’