* * *
Geri was gripped by a paralysing fear. She stood in the porch, listening. Waiting to hear the sound of someone ransacking the house. Where the hell was Nick? His workshop was open, and the bike gone. Oh, God! No! No! No!
‘Lauren?’ Her voice echoed faintly through the hall. why had she involved Lauren? She had gone on, asking questions, making waves, not stopping to think of the danger. She grabbed the door frame for support; she had never been so frightened. Fighting an impulse to run, she ventured inside. Concern for her friend gave her the courage to continue. She closed the front door and ventured further into the house. It was like a repeat of the previous night, except this time, the house seemed secure. Even so, Geri felt the same gut-wrenching terror.
She ran to the kitchen, the sitting room, the TV room, checked Lauren’s bedroom, the bathroom, even the spare rooms — Lauren was not home. A terrible premonitory dread gripped her, and she became convinced that the man who had telephoned the Samaritans on Sunday had taken her.
She rang Vince but his line was still engaged. She hung up immediately and began dialling 999 but disconnected when she recalled how reluctant the police had been to search for Ryan, and he had already been missing for twelve hours when his parents first called.
She put her head in her hands, ready to abandon herself to her terror, berating herself for having left Lauren alone, then her head came up and she ran from the TV room to the sitting room. Joe! He must have found Adèle. She riffled the pages of her address book, almost ripping them in her haste to find Joe’s mobile number.
* * *
Lauren and Joe crouched side by side.
‘Oh, hell,’ Joe stood up and started pacing. ‘She’s not coming back, is she? She must’ve heard me, earlier.’
‘We should give her a few more minutes.’
‘What’s the point? She’s long gone.’ He kicked a ball of paper and sent it skittering across the floor. ‘I wanted to get this bastard, Lauren. I’ve watched the kids, looking over their shoulders, the fear in their eyes . . .’
Lauren got up, easing the pins and needles out of her feet. As Joe paced, the candle guttered, its yellow light giving his skin a waxy cast, the unsteady flickering mirroring his agitation. He stopped and turned abruptly to face her. The candlelight shimmered behind him like a halo, but he was a black, solid mass at the far end of the room. ‘They’ll never catch him now, will they?’
The misery, frustration, and regret in his voice invoked her own anguish in not be able to do more to help. ‘They might . . .’ she said.
His face was no more than a dark oval, but she sensed his interest: she had his full attention.
‘Frank gave me a name.’
‘And?’
She shook her head. ‘I’m not sure if I heard it right.’
‘What was it?’
‘Georgie.’
‘What do the police say?’
‘I haven’t told them, yet. Geri—’
‘So, you’ve told her . . .’
He moved, no more than a shifting of his weight from one foot to the other; she heard it scrape on the gritty floor, and his shadow touched Lauren’s face. She sensed danger as a tangible presence. ‘Geri?’ she said. ‘No. I — I meant—’ Hearing the rising panic in her voice, powerless to control it. ‘What would be the point? I’m — I’m probably wrong anyway. Forget I said anything.’
‘Sorry, pet,’ Joe said. ‘No can do.’
* * *
Geri misdialled and made an effort to slow down on her second attempt. It was answered on the fifth ring.
‘Joe!’
‘I was just about to ring you.’ He sounded out of breath.
‘Lauren — she’s not here. Have you seen her? Is she with you?’
‘She’s here,’ he soothed, ‘With Adèle.’ He lowered his voice. ‘She’s a bit hysterical, but Lauren’s been great.’
‘Christ, Joe! I’ve been worried sick!’
‘My fault. Lauren wanted to leave a note, but I was that worried Adèle’d do a bunk again . . .’
‘Where are you?’ Geri demanded.
‘Northwaite’s Storehouse. You want to come? I’ll give you directions — Adèle’d be happier with a familiar face.’ His voice grew fainter, as if he was holding the receiver away from his mouth. ‘Geri,’ he said. ‘She’s on her way.’
41
Sirens howled in the distance as Geri pulled up outside Northwaite’s Storehouse. Chinese New Year celebrations got out of hand, Geri speculated.
Joe’s car was parked outside the front entrance. A helicopter buzzed overhead, somewhere near the waterfront, she guessed, and getting nearer. She looked up but could see nothing in the narrow slats of sky visible between the warehouses. The wind had abated somewhat, but the rain continued to fall implacably, and she was drenched before she had finished locking the car.
The front of the building had been ostentatiously secured: there was steel cladding over the double doors, riveted and bolted in place, and boards over the windows. To the right, the storehouse was attached to a much taller building — an old grain store — to the left was a cobbled access road. She walked to the left of the building, taking it slowly because the darkness and the unevenness of the road surface made the going hazardous.
She found the side door and went in. It was inky black and intensely cold. She sensed a large, open space, but could hear nothing over the persistent thrum of rain in the street behind her. She stood near the door, allowing her eyes time to adapt.
‘Lauren?’ she called. ‘Joe?’
‘Over here.’
A faint outline drifted into her vision, but it disappeared when she turned to look at it. Smells of damp concrete and mould mingled with a sharper, coppery smell which made her stomach do a slow roll. Joe didn’t speak again, so she walked forward, sliding her feet along the floor and stretching her arms out in front of her.
About five yards in she stumbled over an obstacle and put her hands down to save herself. It was soft and yielded to her touch. She bent cautiously and felt the object. It was warm. Her breath came in short gasps as she explored the still form, her hands moving more and more frantically upwards: arms, shoulders, neck. She looked to her left, trying to catch the face in her more sensitive peripheral vision.
A torch beam shone with pitiless precision and she could see. It was Lauren. She was bleeding. Frighteningly still, very pale. A sticky red pool surrounded her head. Geri wanted to close her eyes, to shut out the terrible image, but she couldn’t look away, couldn’t even blink. She knelt beside her friend and the torch light flashed in her eyes. Geri shielded them with her hand and peered into the glare.
‘It’s all right, it’s me.’
‘Joe! What happened? She’s hurt!’
‘Adèle . . .’ He moved closer and the light wobbled and jerked wildly about the room. ‘She went berserk.’
As he drew closer, she saw that he was injured, too. His face was bruised, and he had a cut over his right eye.
‘Give me your mobile,’ she said. ‘I’ll call for help.’
‘I was looking for it,’ he said. ‘Must’ve dropped it in the struggle.’
He stood over them now and shone the torch into Lauren’s face. She did not flinch.
‘I think she’s—’
‘No!’ Geri couldn’t let him say it, couldn’t even think it. ‘She’ll be fine. But we have to get help!’
She sobbed, trying frantically to find a pulse, and thought she could feel a flutter in Lauren’s neck. Her skin felt clammy and so very cold.
Geri stood, almost knocking Joe over, and began stripping off her jacket.
‘What’re you doing?’
‘She’s cold,’ Geri said. ‘Lauren hates the cold.’ Tears streamed down her face as she covered Lauren with her jacket, tucking it gently in around her neck and shoulders. She stood and wiped her face with the heel of her hand, then turned to the door.
Joe caught her arm. ‘You can’t leave.’
He had a strange light in his eye, and Geri thought that perhaps he was concussed. She tugged away from him, but he held her fast.
‘Joe, you aren’t up to driving, and we need to get an ambulance for Lauren — for both of you.’
‘Let go of her.’ They both looked towards the door. It was Vince.
Joe didn’t budge. Geri felt the pressure of his fingers increase. ‘It’s him,’ he hissed. ‘He did Ryan and Frank.’
Vince took a step into the room. ‘Geri,’ he said. ‘Walk towards me.’
Geri held back.
‘You must be joking,’ Joe said, pinning him in the beam of his torch. ‘Adèle told us all about you. She saw you in the warehouse . . . He set fire to Frank.’
Geri felt as if she had been kicked in the stomach.
‘Listen to me, Geri,’ Vince said. ‘Joe was on security on Handley Street station the night Frank disappeared, covering the concourse at chucking-out time.’
Geri felt Joe shake his head. ‘Yep, I was on duty. What were you doing there that night?’ He grunted at Vince’s expression of surprise. ‘Oh, aye, I saw you.’ He lowered his voice. ‘He was cruising the concourse, looking for underage talent. Paying for it with drugs.’
Cruising? What was he saying? That Vince was some kind of paedophile? The hash she had found in the lining of her coat! Geri had blamed Jay. After all, he had knocked the coat to the floor the night she had banned Baz from the youth club. But now she saw it with stark clarity: Vince picking the coat up, dusting it off, hanging it back on the rail.
‘We’ve got you on tape,’ Vince went on. ‘You and Frank together. Frank looks terrified.’
Geri looked from one to the other, confused, frightened, desperate to get help for Lauren. These were both men she trusted — had trusted — and now she couldn’t read either of them.
‘Frank talked to one of the lads on the concourse,’ Vince was saying. ‘He’s in protective custody. And he’s confirmed that Joe followed Frank out of the railway station — except he knows Joe as the Taxman.’
Geri started. The Taxman! The same man who had frightened Adèle into hiding?
‘Joe, let go of me!’ she shouted. ‘Let me go, I need to think!’ His grip tightened.
‘Got your finger in a lot of pies, haven’t you, Joe?’ Vince said.
‘He’s lying,’ Joe licked his lips. ‘He’s making it up.’
‘What did Frank say, Geri?’ Vince asked. ‘What was the name he gave Lauren?’
‘Georgie,’ Geri said, not understanding.
‘It sounded like Georgie. He was upset, remember. Maybe even drunk. It was Geordie he said, not Georgie . . . “Bastard Geordie”.’
Geri gasped and pulled away, but Joe held on, grabbing a handful of hair and inadvertently cuffing her with the torch which was still in his hand. Geri swung out with her free hand, but he caught her off balance, switched his grip and got his right arm around her neck. His coat was still wet, and the thick, animal smell of damp wool nauseated her. He tightened his grip on her arm and she cried out in pain.
‘Listen,’ Vince said. The buzz of the helicopter had become a clatter and the sirens were almost upon them.
‘You’ve got nothing to hide any more, Joe.’
They heard the slamming of doors outside, and seconds later half a dozen uniformed police piled in, behind Vince. Beams of torchlight danced in all directions, fracturing the scene like pictures refracted through a prism. Vince held up his hand and the men came to a halt.
‘Everyone knows,’ Vince said.
‘They don’t know fuck all,’ Joe said. ‘Adèle attacked us — the lass you’ve been looking for. She knocked Lauren down the stairs, then turned on me.’
‘You don’t know when to give up, do you?’ Vince said. ‘I think you believe half the crap you come out with.’ He took a step towards them, but Joe increased the pressure on Geri’s windpipe, choking her. Vince raised both hands. ‘All right,’ he said. ‘But look at it sensibly, Joe. You’re not getting out of here.’
‘You’ve got nothing against me.’ He looked at the police standing behind Vince, tense, ready to fight. ‘You know what he is, don’t you? He’s trying to implicate me, but—’
Vince laughed. ‘They know, Joe. They know about me, and they know about you.’
Joe hesitated, unsure of himself.
‘You weren’t thorough enough,’ Vince said softly. ‘The bodies got burned, but you didn’t destroy everything. There was semen in Frank’s stomach. We’ll be able to cross-type the DNA.’
Joe slowly released the pressure on Geri’s throat and pushed her away from him and, holding her at arm’s length, stared into her face as if trying to gauge her reaction.
‘Joe?’ she said.
He raised one shoulder and gave her that lopsided grin that said Hey, I’m only human.
Geri saw with perfect recall the youth club, Jay, his head shaved, trying to sneak past Barry unnoticed. Barry tormenting him, echoing her question, What on earth possessed you? Joe had intervened, Geri thought to protect Jay, but she now remembered how cowed Jay seemed: Joe had shaved off Jay’s hair as a punishment, and as a warning to the others not to defect to Barry. She remembered Joe’s hand on the back of Jay’s neck, the fear in Jay’s face.
‘You planted the drugs on me,’ she said. ‘Not Barry, you. It was you the kids were afraid of. It was you who gave Jay the drugs that nearly put him in a coma,’ she said. ‘Christ! If I hadn’t gone looking for him . . .’
‘There’s no loyalty cards in my business,’ he said. ‘But there’s penalties for disloyalty.’
* * *
Dean had cycled the length and breadth of the docks, looking for Joe. When Miss Hepple told him, he realized how stupid he had been not to have seen it before. He must have thought he was really clever, being with them every day, talking to them, pretending sympathy, shaking his head and asking, ‘What sort of person . . .’ and no one suspecting him.
He had seen Miss Simpson’s car, surrounded by police cars and, fearing the worst, had crept up the side of the building and through the door. Unnoticed, he had edged his way to the side of the knot of policemen.
Joe let Miss Simpson go. She stumbled forward, then turned again to face him as two constables stepped up and grabbed him.
Miss Simpson spoke: “Someone the kids trust,” you said. We all trusted you, Joe. Why? What made you do it?’
Joe shrugged. ‘He was already high on something when I found him. I was on mobile patrol, rattling padlocks, moving the drunks on.’
Dean stood a little to the side, wanting and dreading to hear the truth, needing some sign that Joe regretted what he had done. But Joe’s face was set — hard and cold.
‘I never made him do anything,’ he said.
Dean sobbed. A few heads turned in his direction, but their attention was drawn back to Joe; it was him they were interested in.
Joe stared directly at Dean. ‘It was his idea.’
‘No.’ Dean’s mouth contorted in pain.
‘What did you expect, Dean? A confession?’
He had. When you got caught, you were supposed to own up, take your punishment, ’cos it was the right thing to do. For a few seconds, the only sound in the dark, empty warehouse was Dean’s tortured sobs. If he had expected a confession, so had they all.
Joe looked around at them and began again. ‘Ryan wanted some dope. Said he’d suck me off for it. Well, I’m no shirt-lifter, but I’m not gonna turn down an offer like that, now, am I?’
Joe’s eyes burned into Dean’s and the boy knew that he was saying these things deliberately to hurt.
‘He did the biz, I gave him the dope, he left — licking his lips.’
Fury raged like hot oil in Dean’s veins. ‘Liar!’ he screamed.
He rushed at Joe and punched him hard in the belly.
Vince stepped up and dragged him away. He didn’t resist. For the first time since Ryan had disappeared, Dean was completely calm. He had done his duty
; now it was in God’s hands. He strained against Vince, dwarfed by the policeman — not struggling — but leaning forward on the balls of his feet, waiting.
Joe folded; the torch dropped from his hand and shattered on the floor. His escorts fought with him briefly, thinking he was trying to break free, then he fell. It was only then that they saw the knife, buried to the hilt in Joe’s stomach.
Dean relaxed. ‘You’re a bastard liar, Joe,’ he said quietly.
42
They worked on Lauren in the ambulance for fifteen long minutes. Geri sat in her car, trembling convulsively. She felt cold to the centre of her being. Lauren was the closest she had to family, and she had put her in mortal danger. She stared at the closed ambulance doors, willing her friend to live, wishing she could take her place.
Senior officers arrived just after the SOCOs. Geri recognized DCI Thomas. Tape was stretched across the access road at the side of the building to keep out the press, who had somehow got word of the stabbing.
The ambulance moved off slowly and Geri gave a cry. No light — no siren! She fumbled in her pocket for her keys, sobbing, then blue light filled the car, washing over it and she gasped, feeling an overwhelming sense of relief as the siren began its insistent banshee wail.
She dropped her keys trying to get them into the ignition, and as she retrieved them, the passenger door opened and Vince folded himself into the seat next to her.
‘You’re in shock. You shouldn’t be driving.’
‘I can’t leave her on her own.’
He held out his hand; she gave him the keys and they swapped places.
‘Was there any sign of Adèle?’ she asked. ‘He said she was here.’
‘A sleeping bag on the first floor, but I think we’ll find it was his.’
‘Will you go on looking for her?’
‘Sure. She might come out of the woodwork when word gets around on the street telegraph.’
It would take three more weeks, and a personal assurance from Paul Watling at the city’s Big Issue office before Adèle would feel safe enough to come home. And when she did, Paul was able to tell her that he’d kept her name on the accommodation list in the hope that she would return, and that she would be in her own place by Easter.
DYING EMBERS an unputdownable psychological thriller full of breathtaking twists Page 31