by C. L. Taylor
He’s staring, mouth agape, at something on the wall. Something she can’t see.
Paul senses her watching and turns his head sharply. Ursula
tenses, preparing to run, but then she sees the expression on his face. His eyes flick back towards the wall, but not for more than a split second before his gaze returns to her face. Whatever is on that wall has unnerved him.
‘Who are you?’ he asks.
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When Ursula doesn’t immediately reply, Paul wipes his palms
on his suit trousers then drags his gaze away from her and turns on the spot, slowly surveying Ed’s room.
‘What is it?’ he asks. ‘Some kind of undercover operation?
Surveillance?’
The urge to step into the room and discover for herself what’s on the wall is more than Ursula can bear but she doesn’t move
a muscle. She doesn’t trust what she’s seeing, this sudden
emotional switch. He’s faking fear. He’s trying to lure her into Edward’s room so he can hurt her. There’s no way he’s going
to leave the house until she’s told him where Nikki and Bess
are.
‘Is it all a ruse?’ Paul asks. ‘The courier thing?’
A small frown buries itself between Ursula’s eyebrows as she
tries to follow his line of thought. What does he think is going on in Edward’s bedroom and who does he think she is?
‘Why aren’t you saying anything?’ Paul says. He moves over
to the window and looks outside. ‘You got backup coming or
something? The rest of your team?’
And then Ursula understands. He thinks the house is a front for an undercover operation. That’s why he’s sweating and
rubbing his hands together. He thinks he just assaulted a police officer. He’s absolutely shitting himself. Things could go two ways now. He’ll either kill her – if she’s dead she can’t ‘report him’ – or he’ll run. Her gut instinct tells her that he’ll run – he’s a coward at heart – but what if she’s wrong?
She doesn’t give herself time for second guesses. Instead she
pulls up to her full six foot three and takes a step into the room, her heart thundering in her chest. As she does she catches a
glimpse of the wall and a gasp catches in her throat. She smothers it with a cough and Paul, still at the window, turns.
‘Paul Wilson,’ Ursula says, ‘I am arresting you on suspicion
of actual bodily harm. You do not have to say anything but—’
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She doesn’t get to finish the rest of the sentence. As Paul
rushes towards her she takes a step to her left, giving him just enough space to get through the doorway, then she turns and
watches as he sprints across the landing, down the stairs and
through the open front door.
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Chapter 47
Alice
Alice has given up trying to hide the fact that she’s using her phone. Since Lynne came into the stockroom earlier she’s had
Kaisha and Lauren both wander in too. Kaisha wanted to ask
about holiday entitlement and Lauren had a query about a skirt a customer had seen online. Even Larry the security guard popped in to tell her that the area manager had arrived – he was ‘in the area and wanted a chat’ apparently – and he’d shown him to
her office.
Since lunch Alice has received three texts: one from Emily
telling her that Helen opposite has agreed to let her camp out in her front bedroom for the evening and she’s looking forward to playing detective while enjoying a nice bottle of wine, and two texts from Simon. One saying he’d meet her at the shop at
closing time, the other saying he’d reinstated his Twitter account.
She checked it immediately and found his most recent tweet
pinned at the top:
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Looking forward to a lovely night in at my girlfriend’s house.
And if anyone thinks I’m doing anything else THEY’RE NOT
LISTENING.
The last part of the tweet took Alice aback. It was Emily’s
idea, to get a reaction out of the stalker. Hardly subtle. But subtle wasn’t the point. The point was to drive Simon’s stalker out of the darkness and she was pretty sure the tweet was going to do just that.
It had certainly garnered some attention. There were already
tons of replies – most of them expressing relief that he was still alive or tweeting they were glad he was back, a good half-dozen asking who his girlfriend was and one or two telling him not
to shout. Alice went through every profile and took a screenshot.
She was pretty sure Simon’s stalker wouldn’t bother to comment publicly, but actually doing something rather than speculating wildly helped dampen her nerves.
It’s been five minutes since Larry popped in but if their area manager, James Malone, is going to turn up so late in the day
and couldn’t be bothered to give her advance notice then he can bloody well wait. He’ll probably tell her it’s a ‘courtesy call’
when what he’s actually doing is turning up unannounced to
try and catch her out. Well, her store’s running like clockwork
– almost all of the new stock is out, the shop floor is tidy, profits are up and staff absences are down. With any luck Lynne will
have made him a coffee. She might deny it, but Alice knows
she’s always had a crush on the man.
She looks at her watch. Simon’s due any minute. There’s only
a couple of minutes until the shutters need to come down at
the front of the shop and she still needs to check the store’s empty and the cashing up’s been done. As Alice leaves the store-room and steps out onto the shop floor she frowns. There’s no
sign of Lynne. Probably in her office, batting her eyelashes at James Malone and hanging onto his every word.
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‘Is it all right if I go?’ Kaisha steps out from behind the
counter. ‘Lauren’s already gone and it’s my mum’s birthday today and I told my sister I’d be round at hers straight after work.’
‘Course.’ Alice waves a hand towards the back of the store.
‘Go out the back entrance, would you, though? I’m about to
close up.’
‘No worries.’ Kaisha flashes her a smile and scurries off as
Alice heads over to Larry, who’s standing by the glass doors
with his hands clasped behind his back.
‘You can get off too.’
‘You sure?’ He glances up at the metal shutters. They’ve been
lowered to the top of the door to dissuade any stragglers from popping in.
‘Yeah. Course. See you tomorrow.’
She remains by the door as Larry shuffles off towards the
back of the shop. She scans the foyer outside for Simon. He’s
really cutting it fine and her area manager is still waiting patiently for her to join him in the back office. She reaches into her pocket to check her phone just in case Simon’s sent a last minute text but her mobile’s not there. She must have left it in the back
room. Sighing, she casts an eye over the shop. Lynne’s obviously been through all the racks because everything looks neat and
/>
tidy, although that bloody broken rail is still hanging on for its life. She’d have chucked it weeks ago but head office still haven’t sent her a replacement. Actually, that’s something she’s going to have a word with James Malone about. He’d be the first one
to point a finger if it injured a customer so he can bloody well get on the case.
‘Excuse me?’ Alice nearly jumps out of her skin as someone
taps her on the shoulder.
‘Jesus Christ!’ She stares up at the hefty woman in a sweat-
stained top standing beside her. Where the hell did she come
from?
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‘I was sitting over there, waiting for you,’ the woman says,
as though reading her mind. She points across the store to where the shoe racks and padded poufs are hidden behind racks of
clothes. ‘I need to talk to you about something.’
Alice takes a step back. There’s something about the intense
look in the woman’s eyes that’s unsettling. She’s staring at her as though—
‘Oh, for God’s sake. It’s you.’ She runs a hand through her
hair as she places the woman’s face. It’s the shoplifter who was staring at her in the cinema. What the hell was Larry thinking, letting her in?
‘Right, I know why you’re here.’ Alice stalks over to the sales counter, ducks down, then pulls a large bag from underneath it.
She thrusts it at the woman. ‘There’s your coat. You can go
now.’
The woman frowns as she looks into the bag and pulls out
the contents. ‘Thanks, but that’s . . . that’s not why—’
The sound of trainers squealing on tiles makes Alice look
towards the foyer. But it’s not Simon that comes hightailing it round the corner. It’s a short man with a goatee beard and a
blonde woman in a beautician’s uniform.
‘Don’t shut the shop!’ the man shouts as they draw closer.
‘Gareth Filer, security. You need to let us in.’
‘Woah!’ Alice reaches the door before he does and holds up
a hand. He doesn’t look like a security guard in his white trainers, blue jeans and navy jumper but there’s something familiar about him that makes her pause.
‘My daughter!’ the beautician says, slapping a hand against
the glass wall of the shop as she gasps for breath. ‘Is she in there?’
‘There’s no one else here,’ says a voice from behind her. ‘I’m the only customer left.’
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to have words with Larry tomorrow. It’s his job to check there there’s no one left in the shop before he closes the shutters.
Retirement or no retirement, she’s seriously considering letting him go. ‘You all need to leave. I’m locking up.’
And I really need to go and talk to James Malone, she thinks.
‘Please.’ The woman in the beautician’s outfit pushes at the
door, angling to get in. ‘She’s missing. Please. Let me just look.’
The man adds his weight to the door, forcing Alice to let go
of the handle. ‘I checked the CCTV. She definitely went into
your shop. And she hasn’t come out.’
‘Fine.’ Alice locks the double doors, then slaps at the shutter button on the wall. It creaks back into action and slowly begins to slide down over the glass. ‘Come in. But you’re going to have to leave via the back entrance.’
She’s so flustered as the couple push their way in that she
doesn’t notice Simon strolling along the foyer with his hands in his pockets until he’s almost right up against the glass. She makes frantic hand movements for him to hurry then unlocks the doors and ushers him in. As she locks the doors for the second time, the shoplifter comes rushing over and clutches Simon’s arm.
‘Oh my God! It’s you.’
Simon pales and takes a step away from her, but she continues
to hang onto his arm. Height-wise there’s not much between
them and she’s staring straight at him, her eyes roaming his
face.
‘Simon?’ Alice says, but he doesn’t reply. He’s staring at the woman as though he’s about to be sick.
It’s his stalker, it has to be. She’s the one who’s been sending Alice all the Facebook messages, who scratched You’re Not
Listening along the side of her car. She jolts as someone touches her on the shoulder. It’s Gareth, the security guard with the
goatee.
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‘Not now.’ She tries to pull away but he sidesteps her so he’s right in her face.
‘Please. It’s important. I need you to check the female changing rooms. A thirteen-year-old girl has gone missing and we’re pretty certain she’s hiding in your shop.’
‘There’s no one else here. The changing rooms will have been
checked.’ Behind him, the shoplifter has let go of Simon’s arm and is rummaging around in her bag. He doesn’t look as though
he’s about to be sick any more but there’s confusion on his face.
‘Georgia!’ The shout fills the store. The beautician’s given up waiting. She’s hurrying in and out of the racks of clothes,
screaming at the top of her voice.
‘Alice.’ The security guard glances at her name badge. ‘Please.
The changing rooms. We need to check them now.’
‘Simon?’ Alice says. ‘Is it her? Is it the stalker?’
As the tall woman gawps at her, Simon shakes his head sharply.
‘No,’ he says. ‘But she knows—’
‘The changing rooms,’ Gareth interrupts and the bubble of
irritation that’s been building in Alice’s chest finally bursts.
‘Fine,’ she snaps. She just wants him to stop talking and go
away. ‘Changing rooms. Come on.’
As she stalks across the shop floor, the security guard hurries along beside her, muttering something about his mum and
someone called Georgia. Alice lets the words wash over her. The sooner she shows him that there’s no one in the changing rooms, the sooner she can get back to Simon and the shoplifter and
find out what the hell is going on.
She sighs loudly as they reach the cubicles. Rejected clothes
are still on the railing and none of the curtains have been pulled back and checked. No wonder Kaisha shot off as fast as she
did. She knew Alice would get her to sort out this mess.
‘Right.’ Alice pulls back the first curtain to reveal a small
cubicle containing a mirror and a dress hanging up on a hook.
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She takes the dress and loops it over her arm. Something else
she’s going to have to put away before she can leave. She glances at Gareth, who’s moving down the row of cubicles, crouching
to peer under the curtains.
‘No one here.’ Alice pulls back the next curtain. ‘No one here.
No one here. No one—’
She lets out a gasp of surprise. Sitting in the corner of the
cubicle, dressed in school uniform, her arms wrapped around
her knees, is a short, blonde teenage girl.
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Chapter 48
> Gareth
Gareth takes one look at Georgia’s tear-stained face and his
heart leaps.
‘Kath!’ He shouts. ‘Kath! Kath, she’s here.’
For several seconds no one says a word, not him, not Georgia
curled up on the floor and not Alice standing beside him with
dresses hooked over her arm. Then Kath arrives, wide-eyed and
breathless and starts shouting at her daughter.
‘Stop!’ Gareth yells through the crying, berating, apologising and confusion. ‘Everyone please just stop.’
There’s a lull in the noise, then Kath says, ‘What the hell do you think you’re playing at, Georgia? You scared me half to
death,’ and it all starts up again.
‘Kath, please.’ Gareth puts a hand on her shoulder. ‘Please,
this is important. Please just let her explain.’
He crouches down and looks at Georgia, still gripping her
knees. ‘You’re not in trouble, but I need your help. We need
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to find Joan, my mum, and I think you know where she is.’
Georgia lets out a loud sob and buries her face in her arms.
‘We know why you’re here . . .’ he glances up at Kath, who’s
got her hands pressed to her cheeks. ‘Amy told us, your friend.
She said some girls from school have been bullying you and
they told you that if you stole stuff for them it would stop.’
Georgia shakes her head.
‘You didn’t want to,’ Gareth says softly. ‘Did you?’
Georgia doesn’t move.
‘You should have told me,’ Kath says and her daughter lets
out a loud sob. ‘Why didn’t you tell me about it, love?’
There’s a soft murmuring from between Georgia’s arms.
‘What’s that?’ Kath crouches down beside Gareth. ‘What’s
that, love?’
‘You were always busy.’ Georgia lifts her chin but keeps her
eyes covered. ‘You told me off if I wanted to talk and you had a client in.’
‘That’s not—’ Kath starts, but Gareth silences her with a finger to his lips.
‘Did you come round to ours instead?’ he asks.
Georgia doesn’t reply.
‘Did Joan wave at you from the window, maybe? When you
got home from school? Or talk to you in the back garden? Did