A DCI Anna Tate Crime Thriller

Copyright

Published by AVON

A Division of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd

1 London Bridge Street

London SE1 9GF

www.harpercollins.co.uk

First published in Great Britain by Avon Books 2019

Copyright © J.P. Carter 2019

Cover design © Cherie Chapman 2018

J.P. Carter asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this ebook on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

Source ISBN: 9780008313272

Ebook Edition © November 2018 ISBN: 9780008313289

Version: 2019-03-15

Dedication

This one is for my loving wife Catherine

Contents

Cover

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

Prologue

Chapter One: Day one

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven: July 2009

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen: July 2009

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two: Day two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-Two

Chapter Thirty-Three

Chapter Thirty-Four

Chapter Thirty-Five

Chapter Thirty-Six

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Chapter Forty

Chapter Forty-One: Day three

Chapter Forty-Two

Chapter Forty-Three

Chapter Forty-Four

Chapter Forty-Five

Chapter Forty-Six

Chapter Forty-Seven

Chapter Forty-Eight

Chapter Forty-Nine

Chapter Fifty

Chapter Fifty-One

Chapter Fifty-Two

Chapter Fifty-Three

Chapter Fifty-Four

Chapter Fifty-Five

Chapter Fifty-Six

Chapter Fifty-Seven

Chapter Fifty-Eight

Chapter Fifty-Nine: Day four

Epilogue

Acknowledgements

Keep Reading …

About the Author

About the Publisher

PROLOGUE

Tasha Norris loved her job as a nursery school teacher. Watching the children at play always filled her with a deep sense of wellbeing.

Today was no exception. There were only nine of the little mites in this morning, but their squeals and laughter had already lifted her spirits. They were so entertaining, so happy, and so excited to have been let loose in the nursery’s bright and airy playroom.

Tasha’s colleague, Paige, was trying to get them together so that they could listen to the first story of the day. But as usual, they weren’t taking any notice.

Four-year-old Grace was lost in a world of her own as she pretended to cook a meal on the toy stove, concentrating hard as she boiled a wooden egg in a little saucepan. And five-year-old Sahib was too busy racing around the room on a red fire engine to pay the teacher any attention. Meanwhile, Daniel and Liam, both aged three, were fully focused on seeing who could build the highest tower using wooden bricks. Little Molly sat at a table next to them, seemingly oblivious to her surroundings as she worked on her latest masterpiece – a painting of her entire family, including mum, dad, brother and pet goldfish Flipper.

Just being here with them made Tasha realise yet again how much she wanted a child of her own. She and Steve had been married for less than a year, so she had to try and be patient. Aged twenty-three, Tasha knew she had plenty of time to keep trying, and in the meantime she would enjoy looking after other people’s children. She couldn’t imagine doing anything else for a living, and she was so grateful to Sarah Ramsay for taking her on seven months ago. Tasha had loved every minute of every working day. And she’d learned so much about toddlers, tantrums and those tearful confessions that challenge you to keep a straight face.

Paige was now clapping her hands to get the children’s attention. But the only one who responded was four-year-old Simone, who rushed into the large plastic playhouse while shouting, ‘You can’t catch me, you can’t catch me.’

As always, getting all the kids to stop what they were doing became a team effort. Emma, the other teacher on duty, tried to coax Sahib off the fire engine after he rammed it into one of the doors. And Tasha played her part by trying to convince Molly that her picture was finished and she should leave it to dry.

Sarah emerged from her office to help out. She was the owner of the Peabody Nursery chain and the most experienced at dealing with groups of pre-schoolers. To Tasha she was the perfect role model. She’d built up a successful business doing what she enjoyed and went to great lengths to make the staff as well as the children feel comfortable.

‘It’s time for a story, boys and girls,’ she said aloud. ‘Who wants to know what happens to the naughty monkey?’

Two of the children reacted by jumping up and down on the spot. Three others put their hands in the air but carried on with what they were doing. The rest ignored her.

‘I see we’re in for one of those mornings,’ she said with a broad smile. ‘It must be the warm weather.’

Before she could try again she was distracted by the sound of the front doorbell ringing.

‘Do you want me to go and answer it?’ Tasha asked, having persuaded Molly to stand up and step away from her paints.

Sarah shook her head. ‘No, I’ll get it. You carry on trying to round up the little munchkins.’

It didn’t take long. As soon as a couple of them were sitting cross-legged in front of the storyteller’s chair, the others followed suit. Tasha volunteered to be this morning’s reader, and Emma handed her the book that had been chosen by one of the children.

But just as Tasha was about to begin reading, Sarah came back into the room with several visitors in tow. And from the look on her boss’s face, Tasha sensed straight away that something was wrong.

Minutes later, the nightmare began.

CHAPTER ONE

Day one

It was a quiet morning so Detective Chief Inspector Anna Tate was taking the opportunity to get to grips with the pile of paperwork on her desk. There were witness statements, forensic reports, and dozens of crime scene photographs.

All the documents and pictures related to the eleven ongoing cases that were being dealt with by the Major Investigation Team based in Wandsworth, South London.

The team were making slow progress on most of them, partly because they had run out of leads and partly because resources were almost at breaking point. But it was the same story all across London, which had been hit by a perfect storm of soaring crime and police manpower cuts.

For Anna the quiet days were the hardest because she had too much time to dwell on the personal issues that made her life so difficult. This morning her thoughts kept switching between her troubled past and the argument she’d had the previous evening with Tom over their future together.

It was why she was finding it difficult to concentrate on the file she was currently wading through. This one dealt with the murder of a teenage girl in Battersea. Her body had been found four months ago and they were still no nearer to finding her killer.

Anna sighed as she picked up a photograph of the girl’s body lying in a narrow alley. She’d been badly beaten and sexually assaulted, and it had happened only three days before her sixteenth birthday.

Anna was still staring at the photo half a minute later when her office door was thrust open and Detective Inspector Max Walker came rushing in. His face was pinched and tense and his bald head was shiny with perspiration.

He held up a sheet of paper and said, ‘We’ve got a live one, guv. Call just came in and it sounds pretty serious.’

Anna was at once alert. Even though he was still in his early thirties, Walker was one of the most experienced members of her team, and he was not prone to exaggeration.

‘There’s an ongoing incident at a nursery school in Peabody Street, Rotherhithe,’ he said. ‘Three men with guns entered the place and locked the all-female staff in a storeroom. There are four of them and one has been badly beaten.’

Anna jumped to her feet.

‘Who called it in?’

‘One of the women from inside the room. She used a phone the men didn’t know they had.’

‘Jesus. If it’s a nursery then there must be children.’

Walker nodded. ‘There are nine kids apparently, but the staff have no idea what’s happening to them because they were put into another room.’

Anna felt her chest contract as the adrenalin fizzed through her veins.

‘Have shots been fired?’ she asked.

Walker shook his head. ‘Not so far.’

‘Thank God for that.’ She grabbed her jacket from the back of her chair. ‘We’d better get over there fast.’

Minutes later they were in an unmarked pool car that was among dozens of police vehicles from all over South London converging on the Peabody Nursery School in Rotherhithe. Walker was driving while Anna concentrated on the constant stream of updates over the radio.

She learned that an armed response team was being dispatched and that the three men who had descended on the nursery had posed as detectives from Rotherhithe CID.

She also took a call on her phone from her boss, Detective Chief Superintendent Bill Nash.

‘I’ve just been told what’s going down,’ he said. ‘I’m in a meeting at the Yard so I’ll be monitoring the situation from here. Meanwhile, you’re authorised to assume the role of senior investigating officer. Everyone will know by the time you get there.’

‘Thank you, sir,’ Anna said. ‘I’ll keep you posted.’

Information was continuing to come from the woman who had called it in. She’d identified herself as Sarah Ramsay, the owner and manager of the nursery. The emergency operator had kept her on the line so that she was effectively providing a running commentary. But what she had to say was useful only up to a point. She didn’t know if the armed men were still on the premises or if the children were being held hostage.

Not knowing what to expect when they got there was causing Anna’s stomach to twist with grim apprehension.

‘We should be there in under ten minutes, guv,’ Walker said as he stamped on the accelerator, propelling them through a set of red lights with the siren blaring.

Anna did a Google search for the Peabody Nursery in Rotherhithe. She discovered that it was one of a chain of half a dozen Peabody Nurseries across London that catered for children between the ages of three and five. The one in Rotherhithe was the first, hence the name of the chain. There were exterior photos of the single-storey building and the bright and cheerful rooms inside.

It had its own website that described it as a school where parents could ‘leave their little ones in the knowledge that they would always be safe and secure’.

Anna reflected on the horrible irony of this statement as Walker steered them through the traffic at breakneck speed. She could no longer distinguish whether the pulsing in her ears and the hard pounding in her chest were caused by the shrill siren of the police car, or the sheer dread she felt as they got closer to Rotherhithe. Anna swallowed hard as she gripped the corner of her seat, concentrating on the road in front of her and pushing thoughts of what they might find when they reached their destination to the back of her mind.

CHAPTER TWO

They got to Peabody Street just minutes after the armed response team. Two squad cars had also just arrived and were being used to cordon off the road at both ends.

A uniformed officer waved them down and gestured for Walker to park against the kerb behind one of the ARVs.

Anna climbed out and flashed her warrant card, then hurried over to where the armed officers had gathered on the pavement in front of the nursery school. It was sandwiched between a three-storey block of flats and a church community centre. The small, red-brick building was set back behind a five-foot-high wall, and the front door stood half open. There were two cars parked on the forecourt, but no sign of life.

The armed officers – members of Scotland Yard’s specialist firearms command – were waiting behind the wall for the signal to go in. All six were kitted out in black helmets, visors and Kevlar body armour. They carried assault rifles and Glock 17 pistols.

Anna approached the team leader and was pleased to discover that they knew each other. Jason Fuller was a tall, middle-aged guy with craggy features and a strong jawline. Their paths had crossed more than a few times over the years.

‘I heard you were on your way,’ he said. ‘And I’m guessing you know about as much as I do.’

Anna nodded. ‘Four female staff members locked in a storeroom by three men who turned up armed with guns. It happened about forty minutes ago. And there were nine children here at the time who were apparently put into another room.’

‘And we don’t know if the perps are still inside or if we’re dealing with a hostage situation.’

‘That about sums it up,’ Anna said. ‘But we can’t afford to hang around waiting for something to happen. We have to go in.’

‘I agree, but not before we’re ready. There are no sounds coming from inside, and so far we haven’t spotted movement at any of the windows. I’ve got my men checking the rear of the building and I want to see if we’ll get a response through a megaphone appeal first.’

Anna knew that he was right to be cautious. If the three men were still inside then God only knew how they were going to react when they stormed the building. The counter-terrorism unit were also on standby, though the very thought of this being a terrorist attack caused the blood to stiffen in Anna’s veins. Behind her, a police radio crackled and she heard a disembodied voice informing everyone that the women were still locked in the storeroom.

Walker was standing right behind her with several uniforms. She saw that two more squad cars and an ambulance had turned up. Neighbours had also started to gather beyond the cordons.

The scene was bathed in bright August sunshine and the temperature was rising. Anna’s blouse was already sticking to her back beneath her jacket.

She’d been a copper for seventeen years and had never experienced a situation quite like this before, where nine infants were thought to be involved and at risk. Nine toddlers, presumed to be between the ages of three and five; completely helpless and vulnerable. Were they still in the building, locked up in a different room from that in which the staff were being held captive? And, if so, had they been harmed in any way? Or were they about to be?

Anna swallowed hard as an icy dread formed in her throat. There were too many unanswered questions at this stage. Too much they didn’t know. It might have appeared to the onlookers that they had the situation under control but that was far from the truth.

‘There’s more info on the woman who’s been beaten up,’ Walker said, as he stepped up beside her while holding his phone against his ear. ‘Her name’s Tasha Norris and one of the gunman smashed her over the head with the butt of his pistol. She’s unconscious and in a bad way apparently.’

All the more reason to go in, Anna thought. She turned back to Fuller and saw that he’d been handed a megaphone.

‘I just heard from our guys around the back,’ he told her. ‘The garden’s empty but the rear door is wide open. Nobody is visible, though.’

He raised the megaphone to his mouth and faced the nursery. As he spoke through it, his voice drowned out all other sound.

‘This building is surrounded by armed police,’ he said. ‘I urge everyone inside to drop your weapons and leave through the front door with your arms in the air, otherwise we will be forced to enter the building.’

There was no response, and the silence that followed screamed in Anna’s ears.

‘We have no choice now but to go in,’ she said after about twenty seconds.

That was Fuller’s cue to mobilise his team. He waved his hand and gave instructions through his headset microphone.

His officers responded by rushing through the open gate and across the forecourt. Anna watched from beyond the wall. As always, she was impressed by their slick professionalism and the fact that they were prepared to put their own lives on the line. The raw tension in the air was palpable and Anna found herself holding her breath as she waited for something to happen.

Thankfully the team encountered no resistance as they approached the building. They paused only briefly before stepping through the open door. The absence of gunfire prompted Anna to follow them, and Walker and several uniforms were close behind.

She heard shouting from inside as she got close to the entrance and assumed it was Fuller’s men announcing their presence.

She stayed outside until the all-clear was given after less than a minute. Her internal dialogue was on prayer mode as she stepped inside: Please, God, let the children be unharmed …

Passing through the doorway, she noticed the security camera above it and the password-protected panel on the wall. She logged the information in her brain to consider later when it came to determining how the men had got into the building.

A short corridor led to a door giving access to a large, brightly coloured playroom. It was crammed with toys, miniature vehicles, a playhouse and several tables cluttered with crayons, drawing paper and books.

But Anna’s attention was seized by loud cries coming from one of the four other rooms that led off the playroom.

‘It must be the storeroom,’ Fuller said, pointing to the closed door. ‘We can’t find the key so we’re gonna have to break it open.’

One of his men was telling those inside to calm down and step away from the door. The same officer then used his boot to kick at it three times before it gave way.

There was a light on inside the storeroom and it revealed a sight that made every muscle in Anna’s body go stiff.

A woman was lying on the floor with the back of her head resting in a small pool of her own blood. Two other women were kneeling beside her and a third was standing over them with a mobile phone in her hand.

‘Tasha needs to get to a hospital,’ one of them cried out. ‘We can’t wake her up.’

The distraught women all appeared to be in their twenties or early thirties and were casually dressed in matching blue T-shirts and jeans. Their eyes were cloudy with fear and their faces awash with tears.

‘Stay calm and step out,’ Anna said, keeping her voice low so as not to inflame an already stressful situation. ‘We’ll call the paramedics.’

The women quickly exited the room, and Anna half expected them to break down in floods of tears. But instead all three dashed across the playroom to one of the other doors that had a sign on it which read: Quiet Room.

The first to reach it peered inside and then let out an anguished cry that sent a bolt of ice down Anna’s spine.

‘Oh my God,’ the woman screamed. ‘They’re gone.’

Anna stepped forward and looked into the room, which contained a sofa, a few chairs and a low table.

One of the other women turned to the nearest uniformed officer and said, ‘Have you searched the rest of the building? Are the children here?’

The officer shook his head. ‘I’m afraid not.’

The woman’s hand flew to her mouth. ‘Those men must have taken them,’ she said, her voice cracking with emotion. ‘They’ve been abducted.’

Anna closed her eyes, steadied her breathing. That word: abducted. As always, it stirred up painful memories and caused an ache to swell in her chest. She shook her head, swallowed hard, and realised that this case was going to be an emotional rollercoaster.

CHAPTER THREE

Ruth Brady checked her watch and saw that she had time for one more cup of coffee. She didn’t have to be at the restaurant until midday and it would only take her roughly forty-five minutes to get there.

She put the kettle on and as it started to boil she decided to phone her husband to let him know about her change of plan.

She went back into the living room, fished her mobile from her handbag, and speed-dialled Ethan’s number. While she waited for him to answer she stepped over to the window and looked out on a lovely bright morning. Their two-storey town house was in the heart of Bermondsey and overlooked a busy main road. But rush hour was over and the traffic was moving freely.

When Ethan didn’t answer she assumed that he must be in a meeting, so she tapped out a short text message.

Had to drop Liam off at the nursery after all. Will explain why later. Will you be able to pick him up at 4pm if I’m not back in time? Xx

She hadn’t planned on taking Liam to the nursery today. Ethan had bought them tickets for the Shrek Adventure attraction in central London. He’d had to pull out himself but had insisted that she should go and treat their son to a fun day out.

And she’d intended to do just that until she got the call from Howard Browning, the editor of a new London-based magazine. Browning had invited her to a meeting at a restaurant close to his office across the Thames in Wapping. He wanted to talk about some feature ideas Ruth had submitted. As a freelance journalist keen to increase the income from her work, it was too good an opportunity for her to pass up.