Over the months Stefan had grown immune to the putrid stench of blood clogging up his nostrils. It had become routine, just part of his day. A huge part of it. A necessary part of it. The section between getting up and going back home to bed. The bit he could measure. The squish of innards and entrails between his gloved fingers, the sound of cartilage and bone cracking beneath his cleaver and the persistent buzz of the fly catcher that hung from the ceiling above him, as he worked, were all just scene setting. Part of the cadence of his daily life.
Some of the men worked shorter shifts than he and his fellow captives – coming in later and leaving earlier. About two hours before the end of his shift, Stefan watched, heavy-hearted and envious, as they left of their own accord with a friendly wave and banter, whilst he and the other faceless people slogged in silence. Sometimes he wondered if it was just one great long nightmare. Months earlier he’d been full of hope, making plans for a future where his entire family joined him and his daughter. A new start away from the threat of the gang he’d betrayed back in Romania. When they’d taken him and Maria to a bank and helped them sign up for an account, he’d been sure everything was legitimate, all above board. Sure, he’d be able to manage his money, pay off his debt to those who’d helped him escape and build a life, but the bastards had confiscated his card and insisted he still had a huge debt to pay off.
Throwing a pile of chicken guts into the plastic waste tubs behind him and wishing it was a brick hitting Bullet’s head, he went through his strategy. For days now he’d been thinking about this and now the day had come, he wanted to make sure everything went to plan. The trigger had been when he’d heard the advert on the radio. At first, he hadn’t understood it. Wondered what it was about. Then, he heard it again and it began to dawn on him. The advert was about people like him and the other men. People kept against their will, unable to escape. People like his daughter being forced to do God knows what.
His captors had told them that nobody cared about the likes of them, but that wasn’t true. The police were advertising it on the radio. They were asking people to contact them. They would help. So, Stefan memorized the number. All he had to do was tell someone what was happening. At first, he’d thought he’d tell one of the other men – the ones who were free to come and go, but he decided against that. They must know what was going on. They just turned a blind eye. Probably glad it wasn’t them. So that wouldn’t work. The more time that passed, the weaker he got, the more poorly some of the other men became, and this fuelled his determination to escape. To escape and to find Maria.
Finally, he realized the easiest way to break free was from the factory. They weren’t watched all the time here. Bullet and his thugs came and went, but there were times during the day when the only supervisors were the factory ones and they didn’t seem quite as threatening. He’d observed the direction the other men’s cars took when they left the car park and reckoned he’d reach civilization at some point if he just got out, turned left and kept on running.
Stefan waited, nervous and scared. This could all go badly wrong, but it might be his only chance. Eventually he sloped off to the loading area by way of the toilets. Creeping slowly forward, he craned his head to either side. He could see two of the big truck drivers off to one side, smoking and chatting. If he sidled out and used their truck for cover, he could get outside. Quick as a flash, he nipped back into the toilets, stripped off the white protective covering that would draw attention on the street, shoved it onto a bin and retraced his steps to the loading bay. The men were still laughing and smoking – looking at something on their phones. Heart pounding, he took a deep breath and darted over to the truck before edging forward. He listened, but all he could hear was the regular sounds of the factory machines and the occasional shout from the men. Taking his chance, he darted to the side, using the factory wall as cover and sidled over to the bushes that lined the edge of the car park. Crouching behind them, he made his way to the main road and then took to his heels running as fast as he could along a pavement lined with car parks assigned to other huge factory buildings. He was in an industrial estate. He accelerated, the cold air catching in his chest, but adrenaline made him fly. He followed the road round and saw a main street. There was a bus stop a few yards ahead and he wished he’d had the foresight to steal some money. He kept moving past it. The scent of freedom beckoning, making him smile.
Chapter 3
DS Nikita Parekh, shoulders hunched against the driving sleet, bounced on the balls of her feet as she waited in the no man’s land between the outer and inner cordons of the crime scene. Concentrating, she watched the CSIs processed the scene. The weather made it imperative that they work with speed and so they’d quickly banished any unnecessary personnel from the inner cordon and this included Nikki and her team. Not used to standing about, Nikki, Tyvek suit over her leather jacket, crime scene bootees over her boots, was doing her best to absorb what she could see of the crime scene.
The CSIs had already set up spotlights, but under orders from Gracie Fells, the head CSI, in order to make sure the heat they generated didn’t compromise the crime scene, the lights had been placed at the very edge of the cordon. This lack of direct light made picking up on the details a little more difficult for Nikki. The CSIs – amorphous gender-neutral figures in their white bulky suits – held torches as they worked. The car, a red Kia Sportage, was slewed halfway across the narrow road, its front end squashed, the driver’s door hanging open to reveal the empty seat. Not so classy now. Blood had turned the slush a rusty colour and as she watched, the CSIs were frantically trying to gather evidence as they took photos and scooped up spattered matter.
Other figures focused on the tracks that were beyond the Kia. The vehicle the car had crashed into was absent, and harvesting track marks and footprints was a race against the elements. Nikki itched to get in there and make her own analysis, talk to the CSIs, get a real feel for the scene. Already the memory of the resigned but annoyed atmosphere that had descended on her family, when she’d grabbed her jacket and headed for the door, was fading – almost, but not quite. It was a year since her daughter had been abducted and she and her partner Marcus had nearly lost their lives; still, every time she was called away from a family gathering, the memory of that horrific time was triggered for all of them. But this is my job! Her justification didn’t always sit too well with her family, but they had to be aware that she’d been trying her best. Charlie knew first-hand how important her job was … didn’t she? Trying really hard to be more present in their lives, more giving of her time … that, she decided, just had to make up for her dashing off halfway through the Sunday dinner that Marcus had so painstakingly cooked. But as the guilt soaked in, she realized that was just part and parcel of having to balance two sets of responsibilities.
Resolutely, she pulled her thoughts away from the kids’ disappointed and slightly worried faces and back to the scene before her. The presence of blood with the absence of a body combined with the car owner’s frantic call to emergency services was chilling. What the hell had she seen? A hand through the back light of the vehicle in front? One that she was unable to give a registration number for. One that she had only described as a white van. Nikki hoped the CSIs could work their magic on the rapidly melting slush … CCTV was non-existent in these back roads and besides, they meandered for miles, criss-crossing other roads and back roads. Who knew when the reported van would hit mainstream roads again, if ever? There were so many snickets, hidden roads and premises around this area, the van could be holed up in any number of locations waiting for them to divert their searches elsewhere. Their only other option would be a police appeal for a white vehicle, but with the lack of a better description, they’d be inundated with a raft of pointless sightings. What made it worse was that Nikki was acquainted with the woman who’d made the phone call … It had become personal for West Yorkshire police and, whether she could stand the woman herself didn’t matter, she was one of theirs and that counted for something. Cupping her cold fingers round her mouth, Nikki blew into them, trying to ease the numbness in her joints and simultaneously stamped from foot to foot. Springer had made her life hell for a while the previous year, but that didn’t stop Nikki feeling sorry for her now. Springer had clearly been taken by whoever was in the van she’d been pursuing and who knew what state she’d be in. Nikki wasn’t used to standing idle at a crime scene and her patience was wearing thin. The sooner they got a look at the scene the sooner they could crack on with finding Springer.
The weight of a hefty elbow nudging her as she watched, had Nikki spinning round, arms already up to shove back when she realized it was her DC, Sajid Malik. ‘For goodness’ sake, Saj. What the hell are you playing at?’
Beyond him, in the lane, Nikki could see he’d parked up his Jag, but had had the good sense to turn it round so it was facing back the way they’d come. The crime scene had prevented through traffic in order to preserve any evidence left by the departing van and as more and more officers came to the scene, the chances of Nikki being able to spin her old Zafira round was getting slimmer. Sajid carried a Tyvek suit, which he was shaking out, ready to put on. He grinned at her and Nikki’s scowl deepened. Of course, he’d had the sense to wear a winter coat and … was that a bloody polo neck? A shiver ran through her. She almost wished she could rip the damn jumper off him and put it on. As the thought crossed her mind, her fingers lifted to the rough scar on her neck and she shuddered. The last thing she would do was wear a polo. Too damn suffocating; a scarf, even loosely draped was bad enough but the very idea of her neck being enclosed was claustrophobic. Her own Tyvek suit offered little warmth in addition to her leather jacket and she had the distinct feeling of dampness in her socks – had her DMs finally given up the ghost and developed a hole in the sole? Just what she needed right now when the leak in her car still wasn’t sorted. ‘Wish they’d hurry up. I need to get in there.’
Ignoring her tetchy tone, Sajid pulled his suit up over his jeans, tucked his – probably cashmere – coat in and inserted his arms in the sleeve. ‘Heard it’s Springer.’
Nikki nodded. ‘Yep. The call came in from Springer. Seems like she was on her way back from that Community Liaison Conference in Wakefield and took a detour to avoid traffic …’
Sajid moved closer to the demarcation tape, eyes scanning the scene. ‘That blood by the driver’s door’s a bit ominous.’
‘You don’t say.’ Nikki’s tone was snippy. Saj was only articulating what she’d been thinking, but it irked her. She was cold, pissed off and eager to get on. ‘Blood, yes, but the fact that she’s been removed from the scene might be a good thing. The fact they’ve taken her might mean she’s still alive.’ Well, that’s what Nikki hoped anyway.
‘What do you make of her saying she saw a hand and then an arm sticking out from the taillight?’
‘Don’t know … but the fact that she’s been lifted makes that seem even more ominous.’ Wrapping her arms round her upper body, Nikki focused her gaze on the scene, ignoring the glance Saj sent in her direction. There was no love lost between her and The Spaniel, but that wouldn’t stop her doing her best to find her.
A commotion near the outer cordon had both her and Saj spinning round.
Voice low, Saj exhaled. ‘Shit, it must be bad if Archie’s here.’
Nikki moved forward to meet her boss. DCI Archie Hegley was a large man, with a brusque Scottish tone and right now, his bulbous face was bright red and his breath came in quick pants sending off little puffs of vapour as he thudded over. ‘Parekh, this is a bloody mind fuck. Right got ma proverbials in a lather, this has. Now, I ken you dinnae get on with Springer, but you need to put that behind you. We’ve got to find her … find out what the hell is going on.’
Oh yeah … I’m just supposed to forget that she accused me of killing my husband, as if all she did was swipe a sweet from me. She snorted but on seeing Archie’s glare, tried to turn it into a cough. ‘Yes, sir. Course, sir’.
She lowered her head. She’d heard the tape of Springer’s call to the emergency switchboard and although she disliked the woman, she could clearly hear her puzzlement at what she was seeing. Nikki gave her bonus points for following the vehicle. It’s exactly what she would have done herself, yet she would have put money on it that Springer would have pulled into the side of the road and waited for back-up. Maybe the woman wasn’t quite as much of an arse as Nikki thought she was.
Archie was speaking again, his voice loud, harsh against the mumbles of the CSIs working the screen, causing them to look over. ‘Get to get to the bottom of this, Parekh. Right! They not done yet?’ He glowered over the inner cordon tape and Nikki thought for a moment that he was going to burst through the tape. Instead, he took a step back and exhaled. His entire body seemed to deflate like a burst balloon. He raked his fingers through his hair and cleared his throat. ‘Did something awful tae her at the weekend at the conference.’
Nikki and Sajid exchanged glances and waited. What the hell could he have done that was so bad? Archie Hegley was a straight shooter, but he was fair. Not often he was nasty for the sake of being nasty. Nikki nudged Saj and nodded towards their boss. Saj was better at dealing with the emotions side of stuff. With an exaggerated, but silent sigh, Saj shook his head and stepped forward. ‘Weren’t you leading one of the sessions, sir?’
‘Yep, that I was, Malik … that I was.’ He glanced up, his eyes lasering Sajid. Nikki shuffled her feet in the snow, feeling more dampness soak into her socks.
‘I was a bastard to that woman. Told her she needed tae show a bit of guts.’ His gaze moved from Sajid to Nikki. ‘Told her she needed tae be a bit mair like you.’
Ah! Nikki got it. Archie was wondering if Springer had only followed the van because of his harsh words … inside Nikki wondered if he was right. Had his casting her up to Springer been what had sent her off acting unpredictably? Voice calm, she looked at Archie. ‘Well, we’ll just have to find Springer then, won’t we?’
‘Felicity … that’s her name. Felicity!’
Felicity? She hadn’t known that. She’d never really thought of her as having a first name. Of course, she knew she must have, everyone did, but Nikki just hadn’t given it any thought and if she had, she’d have thought it might be something tough like Hilda or Eva – as in Braun or maybe like the big boss, who was cold to the point of iceberg.
She held her boss’s stare until they were interrupted by a yell from Fells. ‘Right, you lot. We’ve done all we can for now. Get your freezing arses over here and we’ll walk you through what we’ve got. Stick to the treads though.’
Yanking her gaze away from Archie’s, Nikki smiled a tight smile and squeezed his arm once. ‘Get back to Trafalgar House and get things sorted at that end, boss. Saj and I have this.’
‘Yeah, I’ve ordered the police helicopter out. It’ll be up soon and maybe they’ll find something.’ Pausing, he bit his lip. ‘Soon as yer done here, Parekh, I want you wi’ me when I speak tae her family.’
Family? The Spaniel? Really? Nikki bit her lip as shame washed over her. The woman had been abducted, was clearly injured, possibly dead and she was behaving like a witch. ‘Better if Saj goes with you, Archie. He’s more … you know … touchy-feely than me.’
She ignored her partner’s mumbled, ‘That wouldn’t be hard.’
‘Not that I couldn’t do it, you know, but …’
Archie cut her off. ‘I asked you, damn it, Parekh. For once in your bloody life just do as yer told, will you?’ and not waiting for her response he stormed off, coat wafting behind him in the slight breeze that had started.
When Saj snorted, Nikki rammed her elbow into his side. ‘Shut up … just shut up.’
She watched Archie trundle back to his vehicle, before ducking under the tape with Saj to approach Gracie Fells, who was standing beside Springer’s car. As soon as Nikki crouched to peer inside the vehicle, she could smell the lingering cordite in the air and her eyes were drawn to the driver’s seat. She flicked a glance at the CSI. ‘Gunshot?’
The CSI nodded. ‘Yes, difficult to estimate where she was hit because of the impact, but if she was sitting upright in the seat, chances are, it went straight through her chest or possibly her shoulder.’
Neither option was ideal, but if it had hit her shoulder, she might still be alive. The question was, how long would her abductors want to keep an injured woman alive? And if they dumped her in this weather, even if she was alive, the chances of her staying that way for long, were next to zero. ‘What did you find inside the car?’
‘Her phone was in the footwell of the passenger seat.’
That tallied with Nikki’s estimation of the recorded phone call. Springer seemed to somehow have lost her phone although thankfully it was on speakerphone so, although faint, they managed to pick up what she was saying.
‘Her bag’s in there too. Doesn’t look like it’s been rifled. A whole load of used tissues – more like she’d been crying than that she had a cold. We’ll find out when we get them back to the lab … not that her crying will necessarily have anything to do with what happened to her.’ The CSI moved back and pointed to the bloody slush. ‘She was dragged out of the vehicle. Blood trace on the car and onto the road. Difficult, because of the snow, to gauge exactly how much blood loss. Looks like they moved her to a larger vehicle – some sort of transit van, I reckon, judging by the car tracks. We’ll narrow that down when we get the casts back to the lab. But, if she saw a hand waving through the back lights, I’d reckon it was probably one of those ones you can borrow from any company, like Enterprise or the like. Those have an enclosed back and the doors open at the rear.’
‘That’s not going to make it any easier. We’ll have to check out van rental companies in the district as well as owners. Sooner you can get the make and model narrowed down the better.’
Ignoring Gracie’s annoyed tut, Nikki studied the rest of the scene as the CSI continued. ‘You can see blood drops and smears as her feet are pulled through the slush, then it looks like she was put into the back of the van. The vehicle skidded as it set off making these tread marks too blurry to cast effectively, however, one of my team got some better prints twenty yards down there.’
Nikki’s phone buzzed. She took it out and saw it was a text from Archie. Opening it she frowned. What the hell? Saj, who’d completed a circuit around the Kia, re-joined her. ‘You okay, Nik? Bad news?’
Nikki flicked her phone shut and smiled. ‘No, nothing like that. Just Marcus griping because I missed Sunday dinner,’ she lied.
Seeing that Saj looked sceptical, Nikki turned and perused the rest of the scene. She’d deal with Archie’s weird text later. Trying to replay what had happened, she cast her mind back to the recorded conversation she’d listened to numerous times on the drive to the scene. Seemed like Springer had a near-miss seconds before the final crash. The recording had clearly picked up the impact of the two vehicles. Now, seeing the scrunched-up front end of Springer’s car, it was clear that Springer had rammed the vehicle in front. Had she done it to try to stop them? If so, that was madness. On the other hand, had she been trying to retrieve her phone and not noticed that the van had stopped? Or there was another option that seemed more likely, for it was what Nikki would have done if she’d been the van driver. She’d have slowed imperceptibly, waited till Springer’s car was close and then slammed on her brakes, so the smaller vehicle would hit the larger one, engaging the airbags and disorientating the driver. Stupid woman hadn’t thought about how conspicuous she would be on these roads on a night like this. What the hell had possessed her to go rogue? Archie’s words rang in Nikki’s ears … was she to blame? Had Archie’s taunt about her needing to be more like Nikki, been what sent her into danger? Fuck! Springer was ill-prepared for any sort of fresh case. She dealt with cold cases … victims long dead … a desk jockey, who didn’t see a lot of active duty. Idiot! She should have waited for the damn back-up. Someone had been in the back of that vehicle … Springer had seen a hand and then an arm protruding from the taillight – someone trying to attract attention … someone who wanted to escape.
If she’d been driving a van with a prisoner of some description in the back and someone on her tail, she’d have waited till they were in an isolated space and done exactly what they did. Brake hard, hope for an impact, but not been totally reliant on that alone – quick out of the van, run to the car before the driver had the chance to get orientated, yank it open. That was it – maybe … ‘Fingerprints on the handle?’
The CSI winked. ‘Doing my job for me now, are you?’
‘Take it that’s a no?’
‘Gloves probably, only picked up smudged prints.’
Nikki let out a half-laugh. ‘Ha! Well, worth a try.’
Sajid followed the tracks a little down the road and stood talking to one of the CSIs.
Nikki turned to Gracie and, voice low, said, ‘You manage to get blood samples?’
‘Yeah, course we did.’
Glancing down to make sure Saj was still out of earshot, Nikki continued. ‘Orders from above, get it tested for these.’ She turned her phone so Gracie could see Archie’s text. ‘Keep it on the QT, eh? Results for my eyes only, okay?’
Gracie glanced at Saj who was striding back, blowing on his hands as he surveyed the area around the crash, and nodded. ‘Very mysterious, but you got it. Your eyes only … very 007.’ And she began humming the theme tune.
Nikki scowled; now she’d be humming the damn tune too for the rest of the day, no doubt.
Saj glanced at the CSI’s departing back with a quizzical expression. ‘Something you’re not telling me, Nik?’
‘Loads … but I didn’t think you’d be interested in my sex life.’
Saj snorted, and catching her eye, waited before speaking. ‘Really? You’re going with that?’
With a shrug, Nikki grinned. ‘Can’t share everything with you, now can I?’
‘Yeah, but if it’s to do with the investigation then you should, yeah?’
Nikki mentally cursed Archie. Why the hell the secrecy? She wasn’t used to not sharing things with Saj. He was her partner and she trusted him, but Archie was her boss and she trusted him too. Feeling like a shit, she shrugged. ‘Don’t know what you mean. You know what I know.’
‘Okay. If that’s how you’re playing it. Nothing else for us to do here and it’s bloody freezing. Let’s head back … see if we’ve been lucky. Maybe someone else saw something odd. Maybe a van with a dented rear end has been spotted on one of the feeder roads.’
Sighing, Nikki nodded and did a slow circle of the scene. How the hell would Springer survive this? They just had to hope she’d been alive when they took her, but who knew what condition she would be in now. ‘Yep, right, let’s go.’
As they walked together to their vehicles the faint sounds of a helicopter approaching got louder and both Nikki and Sajid placed their hands on their foreheads and followed its progress. ‘Hope they have some luck.’ Her tone betrayed her lack of conviction and once she’d shrugged out of her overalls and got into the car, Nikki waved bye to Sajid, who was already driving down the snowy lane. She flicked her key in the ignition, only to hear a grating sound. Great! Damn battery was dead. She slammed the heel of her hands on the steering wheel and screeched. If there was one thing Nikki hated, it was to ask for help with her car. Stepping back out onto the wet road, she glared at the young PC who approached carrying a set of jump leads and a huge smile. She glowered at him. ‘Just get it started and if this gets round Trafalgar House, I’ll know whose guts to add to my garters, right?’
