by Rachel Lynch
‘Not that I know of, though there was a man she lived with for a while a couple of years ago who went to prison. Tom someone?’
‘Tom Day?’
‘Yes! That’s it. I don’t think the boys liked him.’
‘We’re already looking into Tom Day. We think he’s been laundering money from prison for his father. Were you aware of why he was in prison?’
‘No.’
‘He blinded a man in a fight.’
‘Gosh.’ Jacob grimaced. ‘She was even less responsible than I thought.’
‘Have you ever heard your ex-wife or your boys mention anyone called Marko or Sasha?’
‘Sasha, no, but Marko definitely. That’s who she used to go to when we fought. He lives somewhere near her. I have no idea the nature of their relationship and I never met him. The boys might have done, though.’
‘When do they get in? I’d like to speak to them if I could.’
‘Twenty minutes. Why don’t you wait and I’ll make you a coffee.’
‘All right, I’d like that,’ she said. She touched her throat; it was damn sore. She couldn’t work out which hurt more: her neck or her ego. Dave had been her lover, they’d almost got married. It turned out that all he cared about was money, and he’d do anything to make more of it. She felt betrayed.
When the boys arrived home, they both kissed their dad, and the intimacy touched Kelly. It was unusual for children to choose to stay with their father after a break-up. Having met Teresa Joliffe, though, Kelly knew who she’d rather live with. She chatted to them about their mother.
‘There were plenty of people in and out, but Marko was cool,’ said one of them.
Jacob Joliffe rolled his eyes and Kelly asked, ‘In what way cool?’
‘He drove an Aston Martin,’ he said. Kelly raised her eyebrows as if impressed. It kept the boys on side.
‘What else?’
‘He wore all black and sunglasses, like a movie star.’ The boys laughed and their father rolled his eyes again.
‘He should be easy to find in Cumbria,’ Jacob said.
‘Could you help a police artist, do you think?’ Kelly asked. The boys looked at one another.
‘What’s he done?’
‘I’m not sure, we just need to speak to him. When’s the last time you saw your mother?’
The boys glanced at their dad. ‘About a year ago.’
‘They decided to stop making the effort, and Teresa didn’t object,’ Jacob said, and the boys looked away, embarrassed.
‘Thanks, lads. I’ll arrange for a sketch artist to get in touch.’ At the moment she’d do anything for a lead on Marko.
The boys went off to their respective rooms to do whatever teenage boys did, and Kelly thanked Jacob for the coffee and gave him her card.
She was in no mood to check her emails or look at HOLMES. Instead she decided to drive to Grizedale Road. Just to see. In all likelihood, no one would be home. Teresa’s last known whereabouts was the Troutbeck Guest House, collecting Gabriela: a bold move suggesting that she and Marko were panicking. Kelly mused that perhaps Tom Day had been violent with Teresa as well, and that was why she’d given her the lead about the name of the company. Teresa Joliffe certainly wasn’t stupid; and on that note, Kelly didn’t expect to find her any time soon.
Chapter 55
Their priority was Gabriela, and the whole team was working frantically to nail down where their suspects might have taken the young girl. They all knew how important the first twenty-four hours were in an abduction case. They’d closed in on Crawley Haulage, and Harry Chase was being questioned in Liverpool, but they still had to find Teresa Joliffe and Marko. Chances were they’d still be together. Gabriela’s drawings were attracting much attention, and Eden House was inundated with calls about sightings. The task seemed impossible, but Kelly knew that if they were methodical, it would reap rewards. It was a shame that Gabriela had never drawn her own face, but then why would she? Who could have predicted that it might be needed?
From what George had told them, it must only have been minutes after Kelly had left the guest house that Gabriela was taken. She hoped with all her heart that the girl was unharmed. There was something about her that she admired: her grit in particular. She knew now that Gabriela was here illegally, but that didn’t matter. Without her, they wouldn’t have the wealth of information they now had, and might still be trying to join the dots.
DC Phillips called while she was on the road to let her know that they’d been given another possible address for Teresa Joliffe. It was in Newton and that was half an hour away from Dockray.
‘Thanks, Will. I’m just coming up to Dockray now, so I’ll call into the Greystone address first.’
‘Right, guv, you want backup?’
‘No, don’t worry, I’ll be fine.’
‘Are you sure? I mean—’
‘You mean what?’ Kelly wasn’t thinking straight. The incident with Dave had got under her skin, and now Phillips was questioning her.
‘Nothing, guv.’
‘I’ll let you know if I need you. I don’t want to waste resources. Get someone to the other address and I’ll stay in phone contact.’
Dockray was a tiny hamlet of scattered dwellings that had probably been around for hundreds of years. It was hemmed in on all sides by fells and dales and was about as remote as you could get. Kelly had hiked here many times as a child. It was on the road connecting Ullswater with the A66 and could occasionally get busy, but that wasn’t the case now as she searched for the house. The light was fading and she stopped the car repeatedly to check the wooden signposts that pointed the way to grand houses situated at the end of long private roads. Her mind was wandering and she was tempted to call it a night. But she was here now and she might as well see it through.
As she reversed the car and drove out of yet another private road, a thought struck her. It was too much of a coincidence that she had just missed Joliffe and the two men at the guest house. Christ. They must have been watching. So they knew that she’d been to see Gabriela, and now they’d be trying to figure out what the girl had told her.
And they’d probably seen her face.
Her phone rang. It was Phillips again.
‘Guv, a call came in at four p.m. saying that the girl is at an address in Glenridding. It was anonymous and untraceable, but the operator said the voice was foreign.’
Kelly was in a dilemma. She had three addresses now, and she was at one of them alone. She knew she’d reached a point in the investigation where she needed solid backup. She’d had a lapse in concentration because of Dave Crawley, and she was pissed off. It had clouded her judgement.
‘I need DCI Cane to agree to armed response,’ she told Phillips. ‘It’s highly likely that these guys are armed, and certainly dangerous. You have to go to Carlton Hall on this one. Tell Cane everything we’ve got and get him to call me if necessary. Wait a minute, I’m turning round again. I think I just drove past a sign. See if you can get authorisation for all three addresses.’
Sure enough, a small wooden signpost, almost hidden behind bushes, pointed the way to ‘Greystone Lodge’. How respectable, she thought. Kelly stopped the car, short of the private driveway. She had no choice but to wait for back up. Her phone rang again. It was an unknown number.
‘I know where the girl is,’ said a male voice. It was certainly not English. In fact it sounded strikingly similar to the accent of Jovana Galic. Kelly looked around her. The lane was quiet and she saw no vehicles and nothing out of the ordinary.
‘Marko?’
‘No, but he wants to meet you.’
Kelly’s pulse quickened and she knew she’d been right: they’d watched her leave the guest house. Marko was betting that using Gabriela as bait would work, and he was right. Of course he was right. Kelly would do everything she possibly could to keep the girl safe.
‘Has Gabriela been harmed?’
‘Go and find out for yourself. You know the Grizedale Roa
d, near Dockray? Look for a house called Greystone.’ He hung up.
Shit, they were supplying different addresses. Was the house she was approaching the correct location to find Gabriela, or one of the other two addresses? It took less than a second for Kelly to decide. She called Phillips again and told him what had happened.
‘DCI Cane has authorised armed response. Where’s the priority?’ He waited.
‘Greystone Lodge on Grizedale Road. I’m going in,’ Kelly said.
‘No, guv! We can get them there in ten minutes. You mustn’t go in without backup.’
‘By then she might be dead. He wants to see me.’
‘Guv, please. It’s not my place, but I really think it’s the wrong thing to do. We’ll never be able to explain it.’
‘Get armed response here as quickly as you can.’ She hung up.
It was a deadly gamble. If this was the correct address, she had no idea how many people were in the house. She had no idea if they were armed. She had no idea if it was another hoax. She had no idea if Gabriela was already dead. She knew how a fox must feel being chased through a forest by a pack of hounds lusting for blood. Whoever Marko was, and whether he was in Greystone Lodge or not, Kelly was responsible for bringing down his empire and that of his three accomplices – Crawley, Day and Chase – and it was unlikely he wanted to share a friendly chat.
But she’d made up her mind.
Chapter 56
Teresa watched as Marko made preparations to leave. He went in and out of rooms, gathering items, and he wore his coat. It was clear that she wasn’t invited. She suspected that they’d wasted too much time. Surely it wouldn’t be long before the police tracked them down. Sasha had left already, she’d watched him drive away, no doubt as a result of some pact between father and son. How touching, she thought. She wanted to tend to her face. It stung like hell. It wasn’t the worst she’d ever felt, though. Tom Day had been far more violent.
She’d never pressed charges.
All her life she’d been pulled to the bad boys. Jacob was the exception. His money kept her interested for a while, but she soon became bored with him and the babies. He hired a cleaner, a cook and a housekeeper, but still she was bored by domesticity and began going out. She went out a lot. That was when she met Marko.
He’d never hit her before now. It had come out of the blue and it terrified her. That colossal pig of a man that Marko had insisted on bringing here watched her carefully, and she daren’t move.
She was fretful and it made her twitchy. Marko always had an answer, but this time he didn’t. Perhaps she should have persevered with him and made herself indispensable, but she knew that was never going to happen. She’d tried once and he’d spurned her, a feeling that had taken a long time to fade. No one had ever said no before. Marko had a type and she wasn’t it. That was all. She could tell that he had his eye on the detective instead, and it galled her. But Teresa knew that her age was beginning to show in her face, while the detective was strong and vital, and Marko loved a good match.
‘Curtis, for God’s sake, I need to go to the bathroom and take a goddamn shower. I need some privacy.’
‘Wait,’ he said. He left the room and locked the door. All the damn doors in this place had locks, and she regretted keeping it that way, but she could never have guessed that it would come to this. She still thought it could be different. If she could just get away from this house, she might be able to escape and re-emerge somewhere else. She’d reinvented herself so many times before; she knew she could do it again. She’d already made the necessary arrangements, and she even had a passport. Terry Smith. She liked the sound of it. But she knew she’d have to get past Marko in order to leave.
Curtis came back. ‘Marko said you’ve got fifteen minutes, but I’m locking the door behind you. Do what you need to do.’ He slammed the door and locked it.
She got up and grabbed her washbag and a pile of clean clothes, and walked in to the grand ensuite, kitted out on Jacob’s money. It was a relief to be away from her guard for a moment. Whenever she felt Curtis’s eyes on her it made her feel uncomfortable. She knew what he was capable of. Where did Marko find these thugs he surrounded himself with? she thought. She wondered where his brothers, the other three bullies, were; they were usually inseparable.
She showered quickly, then got dressed and looked in the mirror. She no longer looked like Teresa Joliffe, proprietor of the Troutbeck Guest House; now she was Terry Smith, artist and traveller. She tied her hair back, checked her watch, and looked around. She’d destroyed everything else; the last thing to do was clear her laptop. She opened it and began erasing files. She’d take it with her and abandon it somewhere random. She’d decide where later.
The two bedrooms at the back of the house overlooked the garden, and their windows led onto the flat roof above the orangery. The drop from the roof was a good twelve feet, and Teresa toyed with the possibilities. If she broke her legs in the fall, she’d be going nowhere, and He-Man outside her door would probably teach her a lesson. So she’d just have to make sure she didn’t break her legs. She knew how Curtis taught women lessons, and how Marko allowed it. She’d become his latest liability. That was why she had to get away.
She climbed onto the roof and peered over the edge. It was a long way down. There was no grass, just paving stones. Perhaps she could shin down the drainpipe, but she wasn’t sure it would hold. She was doubting herself, and it was costing her time.
The doors to the orangery opened beneath her and she froze. It was Marko. She daren’t breathe. He lit a cigarette and blew smoke into the darkening sky, then walked towards the garden. Teresa was now in full sight; if he turned around, she’d be seen. She tried to tiptoe backwards, but she stepped in a pile of old mushy leaves and slipped, clattering to the floor. Marko threw his cigarette away and spun round, checking where the nose had come from. Oh God, thought Teresa. Her time had come. She kept down and clung to the roof, making herself as flat as possible. She couldn’t see him over the lip, and he couldn’t see her.
‘Curtis?’ he shouted. ‘Go and check on our lovely Teresa will you.’
Marko threw away his cigarette and marched back indoors, heading upstairs.
Teresa was wet through and lying in a pile of rotting vegetation. In her current state, she’d attract attention. She had no vehicle – Marko had her keys – and no way of putting a decent distance between herself and Greystone. She punched the flat roof and her hand hit a puddle, splattering mud onto her face.
She got up quietly and crept back inside, knowing that her options were dwindling by the second. Before she was three steps inside the room, the door opened and Marko burst in.
‘Going somewhere?’ he asked.
Chapter 57
As Kelly walked quietly but swiftly down the track, she noticed that there were three vehicles parked outside Greystone Lodge. One of them, she knew, was registered to Teresa Joliffe. It was a brand-new BMW X6, and she had read in the file that it had been bought on credit card for over sixty grand. She slowed her own car to a gentle roll and brought it to a halt next to a wall, away from the other vehicles. She quickly snapped shots of them on her phone, and did the same for the front of the house, then put her mobile back in her pocket.
The evening was drawing in and grey clouds sat on the fells all around her. The isolation made her chilly. Little Mell Fell and Great Mell Fell sat like watchkeepers, and she wondered if there were any walkers around at this time of the day. She doubted it.
She decided to check the exterior of the house first. After all, the man who’d called her – who she assumed was Marko’s son, Sasha – had had no idea she’d been so close already. She could have been driving from Penrith or even Barrow for all he knew. It was the only advantage she had over Marko, who would be waiting for her and would have planned everything out in his head already.
But she was getting ahead of herself. It was possible that the call had been a hoax, and that Marko Popovic was out of the count
ry by now and Gabriela was lying seriously harmed, or worse, inside the house. Kelly didn’t know which scenario she hoped for. Some criminals, when faced with the end game, became reckless and made mistakes. Others disappeared sleekly and silently. Something about Marko’s MO suggested to Kelly that he would want to stay and fight, but she couldn’t be sure.
She went around the rear of the property, treading carefully and quietly. The area was walled and secluded, making the garden private. A light was on upstairs and she heard muffled shouting. She approached a downstairs window but all the curtains were drawn, although she could see lights on behind them.
She strained her ears but heard no sirens. The time had come to make up her mind. She went back to the front, took a deep breath, and knocked. After a few minutes, a young woman answered. Beyond her, the hall was dark. Kelly showed her badge.
‘Good evening. I’m Detective Inspector Porter, I was wondering if Teresa Joliffe was home?’
‘Yes, ma’am.’ The girl spoke with an accent that Kelly didn’t recognise. As she opened the door wider, Kelly noticed some bruising on her forearms. The girl saw and covered them up.
Kelly’s phone went and seeing it was Phillips she answered it straight away.
‘Kelly, we’re still about six minutes away, there was an accident that we had to bypass. Are you OK?’
‘Yes. I’m being shown in. There’s no sign of a large welcoming party. I’m absolutely fine, Will. I’ll call you in five.’
She felt a flash of trepidation hoping that armed response wouldn’t be too pissed off with her if she was wasting their time. Better safe than sorry. The decision had been authorised by Cane, but she hoped she wouldn’t be a laughing stock. Everybody would know if she screwed up in such a small constabulary.
The girl stood back. Kelly stepped inside.
‘Do you work here?’ she asked.
‘I no understand.’ The girl looked afraid suddenly, and turned and walked away. She hadn’t closed the door.
‘Shall I wait here?’ Kelly shouted after her, but the girl scurried off.