Nowhere to Run

Pete shrugged. ‘You never know, sir.’ In his own case, Simon had looked not just at ransom, but at the influence someone might want Pete to bring to any of the cases that were being worked at the time. ‘You haven’t received a demand of any kind?’

‘Certainly not.’

‘If you do, you will tell us?’

‘Of course.’

‘Only, very often, these things include a proviso that you mustn’t contact the police. It’s never a good idea to go along with it. It’s aimed at isolating you, making you more vulnerable, that’s all.’

‘As I said, Sergeant, we’ve heard nothing from anyone. And, if we do, we’ll be sure to inform you.’

Pete nodded.

Alistair leaned back in his seat. ‘Anyway, why are you – a sergeant – handling this? I thought an inspector would have come out.’

‘That’s the TV and the movies, sir. In the real world, especially these days, with all the cutbacks, there’s usually only one DI in a station, if that. And he or she’s in a more supervisory, management-type role than an active investigative one. They allocate cases, oversee progress and chip in if we ask them to.’

‘I see.’ He resumed writing, resting the pad on his raised knee.

‘So, you were at home all day?’

‘Yes.’

‘And you didn’t hear anything from the school, asking why Rosie hadn’t turned up, anything like that?’

‘No, they . . .’ He sat forward again. ‘It’s not like your average comprehensive, Sergeant. They assume the students have some level of responsibility. They allow them a day for sickness before chasing them up.’

Pete grimaced. He’d never heard of a school treating its students like that before. Maybe a college or university, but not a senior school. ‘OK. We spoke about her mobile and so on. Do we have your permission to check on your landline and Internet provider, too?’

‘Of course. Anything that’ll help find Rosie, though how they might is beyond me.’

‘The more information we have, the better.’ Hopefully, the records would allow him to verify Alistair’s whereabouts for at least part of the day without needing to ask him directly at this stage. That could come later, if it proved necessary – statistically, the majority of missing kids were missing because of something a parent or close relative had done, but, at the same time, he knew how distressing that kind of suspicion could be. He remembered answering these same questions five months ago, from Simon Phillips. How he’d seethed to get out there, do something – anything – towards finding Tommy instead of wasting time, answering damn fool questions.

Jane opened the door and held it for Mrs Whitlock to come through with a tray, which she put on the coffee table.

‘Great. Just what we need,’ Pete said, as she handed him a cup and saucer.

‘Thanks, Jess. There we are, Sergeant. Rosie’s mobile number is at the top. Our home line. Then you have my parents’, Jessica’s, my brother’s, her sister’s, Rosie’s school. Her best friend is Becky Sanderson. We spoke to her earlier. You’ve got the numbers there for our tennis club, King’s, plus Northbrook swimming pool, which she uses at this time of year because the outdoor one at Topsham is closed, my office and Jessica’s school. The other ones are just friends of ours. Purely social. From uni and so on.’

‘Excellent. Thank you. That should speed things up considerably.’ He took a sip of his tea. ‘So, she uses Topsham pool when it’s open?’

‘Yes.’

Tommy had enjoyed swimming, too, but he had never bothered with the open-air pool. Had preferred to stick to the indoor one in the city – where he’d been waiting for Pete to pick him up on the evening when he’d . . . Pete sucked air in through his teeth, breaking the chain of thought. ‘One thing I would say. I don’t know how – it baffles me, even after all these years – but it never takes the press long to get hold of things like this. My strong advice, for now, would be not to say anything to them. Just in case. As soon as we’ve established there’s no reason not to keep things quiet, we’ll probably call a press conference ourselves and involve you both in that, if you’re up to it. It keeps things under control a bit, that way. Less intrusive, at least to start with.’

‘Why wouldn’t we want to talk to the press? Jessica asked. ‘I’d have thought . . .’

‘In case she was kidnapped,’ Alistair said before Pete could reply.

‘What?’

‘It’s unlikely,’ Pete said gently. ‘But if she was, and the press are already involved, that might not be a good thing.’

‘Oh my God! I hadn’t even thought of that. You mean, if it gets out they might . . . ?’

Pete held up his free hand. ‘As I say, it’s only a faint possibility. It’s just one of the things we have to consider at this stage.’

Clearly, the missing girl was desperately loved. Pete felt the old determination building inside him. He wasn’t going to allow these people to go through what he and Louise were going through. He would do his level best to bring their daughter back alive and well, whatever the odds.

‘God, this is unbelievable. It’s just so awful!’ She looked as if she was going to break down again.

‘I’m sorry. I know how you feel, Mrs Whitlock, and—’

‘Don’t be so bloody patronising,’ Alistair snapped. ‘How the hell can you possibly know how we feel?’

‘Sir, I . . .’

‘Has your daughter ever gone missing, Sergeant?’

Pete felt himself go pale, a wave of coldness sweeping through him.

‘DS Gayle lost his son in similar circumstances, just a few months ago, sir,’ Jane said stiffly. ‘So he knows exactly how it feels. I don’t, but he does.’

‘That’ll do, Jane,’ Pete said softly.

‘I’m sorry. I didn’t know.’

‘Yes, well . . . As DS Gayle was saying, we’ll do all we can to find your daughter and bring her back safe.’

*

Lauren woke in complete darkness, snuggled tight against the warm body of another person. For a brief moment she felt safe and cosseted. Then the smell of the hay brought her back to reality with a jerk. Who was this other person? Another girl. She smelled feminine. Lauren could feel her long hair, a skirt and bare legs against her own. Where had she come from? She tried to ask, but there was a gag in her mouth. She moved to free it but her hands were tied behind her with something thin and hard. Shifting in the hay, she found her ankles were bound too. Shit, they really meant business now.

‘Iss OK.’

The other girl tried to say more, but was clearly also gagged.

‘Uh-huh.’ Lauren swallowed, but it went the wrong way and she began to choke and cough. She heard the other girl trying to say something through her gag, but couldn’t make it out. Then she moved in the darkness. Lauren felt hands brush against her clothes. Her choking was getting more urgent as she fought for breath. The other girl’s hands fumbled blindly, moving from her cardigan to her blouse to the knee-length sock that was tied across her face as a gag. She felt the gag being pulled away and stiffened her neck, pulling back to help. The knotted cloth snapped free and she was coughing and gasping.

Finally, with a clear airway, the coughing fit ended, leaving her panting for breath.

‘Thanks,’ she gasped. ‘That nearly killed me. Roll over, I’ll get yours.’

Lauren felt the girl roll away, heard the rustle of movement, then felt hair against her face. The girl’s body pressed warm against hers before moving downward as Lauren went the other way until her head bumped painfully into the wall.

‘Ouch. You’ll have to go further. I’ve hit the wall,’ she said.

‘Uh-huh.’

Lauren rolled over and got to her knees. Felt around with her bound hands. ‘Where are you?’ The sharp ends of the hay dug into her shins, but she ignored them as she searched awkwardly. She touched wool, then cotton. Skin, firm over bone, then the softness of a cheek. Cloth. A sock. She grunted and fumbled along the tightly stretched material, towards the girl’s mouth. Her finger brushed a lip and the girl grunted something. Lauren got a hold of the material and pulled. She felt the other girl pulling back, the material stretching. Lauren’s fingers ached with the strain, but she kept pulling, straining to get the gag free. Then her fingers gave way. She cried out as sock snapped back into place and the other girl moaned in frustration.

‘Sorry.’

They tried again. The girl opened her mouth as wide as she could, tilting her head and working her jaw to try to get it free. Lauren felt the gag catch briefly on the girl’s front teeth, but then it was out.

‘There.’ Lauren heard the snap of the girl’s teeth closing, then the draw of breath. ‘No use yelling,’ she said. ‘Nobody will hear.’

The other girl moaned and rolled onto her back. ‘Where are we? What’s happening?’

CHAPTER 5

Pete waited until they were in the car and Jane had turned out of the Whitlocks’ drive.

‘So, what did you get from her?’

‘You were right. She doesn’t like her brother-in-law. He’s way too familiar for her taste – with her and with Rosie – but she’s not aware of any signs of actual abuse, from him or from anyone else. And, as a teacher, she should know what to look for.’

‘Yes, but is she being honest? With us or with herself?’

Jane shrugged. ‘I suppose she could be in denial because it’s easier that way.’

‘Regardless of what she says, we’ve got to check everyone out for ourselves. Friends, family, colleagues, the lot. I’d better phone Lou. Tell her I’m going to be late.’

‘You already are, boss. You should have been home forty minutes ago.’

‘Shit.’ He pulled his mobile from his pocket, called up his home phone and hit ‘dial’.

‘Hello?’

‘Lou? It’s me. Sorry, love, I’m running a bit late. We had a case come in about twenty minutes before I was due to knock off. The kind of thing I can’t just leave to the morning.’

‘Why’s it got to be yours?’

‘Everybody else has got a full caseload. I’m just back, so mine’s empty. Simple as that.’ He shot Jane a glance that told her to keep her raised eyebrow to herself.

He heard Louise sigh on the other end of the phone. ‘All right.’

‘I’ll bring fish and chips, how’s that?’

‘We’ll see you when we do then.’

‘I shan’t be too late.’ He ended the call and looked across at Jane.

‘None of my business, boss.’ She shrugged.

‘That’s right. But, no, I’m not deliberately trying to stay away from home. This does need sorting. And she wouldn’t understand that, in the circumstances, so I just tried to make both our lives easier, all right?’

‘So, where do we start?’

‘We need to speak to this Becky Sanderson and do background checks on the people Alistair Whitlock’s given us. Also, we need to check Jessica’s route from home to the school for CCTV cameras, get the call log on Rosie’s phone and see if we can get into her laptop. Then we see who we can get hold of and go from there.’

*

‘We’re in a barn in the middle of bloody nowhere. And what’s going on is some sicko bastard and his sidekick have snatched us and put us here, to play with as they feel like.’

‘But . . .’ The girl paused. ‘You mean . . .’

‘Yeah. Bloody paedos.’ Lauren shuddered. ‘Perverts.’

‘What’s your name?’ The girl was well spoken, almost posh sounding.

‘Lauren Carter. What’s yours?’

‘Rosie. Rosie Whitlock. How old are you?’

‘Ten last month. You?’

‘Thirteen.’

‘Well, thanks again for getting that bloody gag out of my mouth. I bloody near choked on it.’ She felt the damp material hanging around her neck like a cowboy’s bandana.

‘That’s all right. Thanks for helping with mine.’

‘So, what now?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Well, we’ve got to get out of here, haven’t we? I mean, for one thing, they’re not going to like it that we’ve got our gags off. Plus, if we stay put, they’re going to . . . Well, you know what they’re going to do.’

‘Oh God!’

‘Yeah, where’s he when you need him?’

*

Pete handed Rosie Whitlock’s laptop to Dave Miles.

‘Here, see if you can get into that, will you?’ He sat down at his desk. ‘Jane, you get hold of Becky Sanderson. Find out what she’s got to say about Rosie. Is Colin still in?’ He directed the question to Dave.

‘No, he’s gone off home.’

‘What about Fast-track Phil?’

‘In his office.’

‘He would be, wouldn’t he? OK, I’ll go and have a word.’ He got up and headed for Adam Silverstone’s office, going via the corridor, rather than through the DI’s office. He knocked sharply on the door.

‘Come.’

He stepped in. Silverstone was behind his desk, a file open in front of him. ‘Ah, Peter. What have we got?’

He closed the file as Pete shut the door and stood opposite him.

‘A thirteen-year-old girl, the mother a junior school teacher, father a corporate lawyer, disappeared from outside her school. Bearing in mind their address in St Leonard’s and the school she goes to, which is Risingbrook, we have to at least consider the possibility of a kidnap, although there’s been no contact as yet, according to the parents.’

‘And you believe them?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘So we need to get a team in there for the night and perhaps tomorrow. Phone taps on landline and mobiles so that we can trace any callers.’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘I take it you’ve got their permission for all that?’

‘Sir.’ Pete nodded.

‘I’ll get on to HQ and set it up then. Perhaps Jane can go with the team, to introduce them. I’ll also get on to the press office, get them to hold off until we’ve established a few of the facts. And you’re following up other leads, I take it?’

‘Friends and family. Local paedophiles. Possible contacts on her mobile and computer. Considering the time of day, there’s only so much we can do immediately, of course. But, come morning, we can look for possible witnesses and so on. Go down to the school and interview parents, teachers and pupils.’

‘Quite. Carry on, then, Peter. And let me know if you need more manpower. As I said, we have to give this top priority.’

‘Sir.’

Silverstone was lifting his phone as Pete turned to leave.

Back at his desk, he saw that Dave was working on Rosie’s laptop. ‘Any joy yet, Dave?’

‘Not yet. I got on to her mobile phone provider, though, got her call log. Nothing out of the ordinary on it. No calls from unusual numbers. And I had it pinged to get its location, but it’s not just off, it’s completely dead.’

So, the battery and/or SIM card had been removed. Someone wasn’t stupid, Pete thought. If this was an abduction, that was not a good sign. And how many thirteen-year-olds knew that you had to take the battery out of a phone to prevent it giving away its location, even if it was turned off? ‘I don’t like that. Not at all. I’ll get onto the PND and see what I can find out about the people on Alistair’s list.’ He fired up his computer and logged into the Police National Database. With Alistair Whitlock’s list at his elbow, he began to search.

First Jason Whitlock then Michael Gibbons came up clean. No criminal record or known associations on either. He looked up. ‘Jane, have you got the names of Becky Sanderson’s parents there?’

She put a hand over her phone. ‘Neil and Geraldine.’ She returned her attention to the person on the other end of the line. ‘Sorry about that. You were saying . . . ?’

Pete typed Neil Sanderson into the computer. The screen flashed up.

‘Hello.’

‘Thank you,’ Jane said into the phone and hung up. ‘What you got, boss?’

‘Neil Sanderson. No criminal record. Regular CRB checks. Looks like he’s into judo. And, it says here, he’s a known associate of one of Jim’s customers, downstairs in the holding cells. One Stephen Lockwood. Priors for drug possession and distribution and living off immoral earnings.’

‘Ooh. A pimp and a pusher. Maybe we’d best go and have a word?’

‘I’ll call down first, see who actually brought him in. Don’t want to go stepping on toes as soon as I get my foot back in the door, do I?’

Jane laughed.

‘What, you going soft in your old age, boss?’ Dave asked, looking up from Rosie’s laptop.

‘I suppose you’ve never heard of old age and treachery, Dave.’

‘What?’

‘It always beats youth and skill.’ Jane grinned. ‘Not that you’ve got that much youth on your side.’

‘Oi!’ He hit a key on the laptop and sat back abruptly in his chair. ‘Gotcha. I’ve got into this thing though.’

‘Well, she didn’t keep a paper diary,’ Pete said. ‘So if there’s going to be anything to indicate she was unhappy at home or at school, it should be on there. What did Becky Sanderson have to say?’

‘She’s not aware of anything wrong in Rosie’s life, boss. No bullying, cyber or otherwise. Apparently, she’s quite the girl to be seen with. A leader, not a follower. Not a bad girl though. Good grades, into sports, friendly. An all-round nice kid. She just didn’t turn up at school today. No phone call, no text, no nothing. And it’s not something she’s done before. Not her style at all. She’s too conscientious.’

‘Boyfriends?’

‘Not that Becky’s aware of. And you saw her parents’ reaction to the idea.’

The phone on Pete’s desk rang and he picked it up. ‘DS Gayle.’

‘This is DS Parker from Middlemoor. Communications. I gather you need a phone tap set up?’

‘Ah. Yes. Possible kidnap. Seems unlikely, but we’ve got to cover all bases. The address is in St Leonard’s. My DC’s been there. She can go with you and give you the intro, if you pick her up from here.’

‘Right. We’ll be there in twenty.’

He put the phone down and Jane was looking at him, eyebrows raised. ‘Nice of you to volunteer me, boss.’

‘I didn’t. Fast-track did. I just forgot to tell you. It shouldn’t take long if you go in your car. Just lead them round there, introduce them, then you can scoot off.’

‘What about all this?’ She indicated the paperwork on her desk, her notebook, computer and phone.

‘There’s only so much we can do tonight,’ he said. ‘I’ll stay and carry on. What about you, Dave?’

‘I’m all right. I can stop as long as it needs.’

‘Right. Between the two of us, what we can do at this time of day won’t take too long.’

‘OK. Thanks, then, boss.’ She got up, picked up her coat and bag and headed for the door. ‘Goodnight.’

‘’Night, Red,’ Dave called, closing Rosie’s computer down and setting it aside. ‘So, what else do we need to do, boss?’

‘Well, when you’ve done with that thing, there’s the parents’ alibis to check, you could carry on down this list of contacts or see who we’ve got in the area in the way of known paedophiles and check on them.’

‘Right. Lovely.’

‘Meantime, I’ll see about Stephen Lockwood.’ He slid the list across to Dave, picked up the phone and dialled an internal number.

‘Custody desk. Sergeant James.’

‘Bob. Pete Gayle. You’ve got a guest down there, Stephen Lockwood. Who was his AO?’

‘Hello, Pete. How you doing? Hold on, I’ll find out for you.’

Pete waited, hearing the tapping of a keyboard behind James’ heavy breathing. ‘Here we are. The man himself. Jim Hancock. Why? What’s up?’

‘Oh, I might have a connection with another case. I’ll talk to you later.’

‘Cheers, Pete.’

He ended the call and dialled again.

‘DS Hancock.’

‘Jim, it’s Pete.’

‘Hello. You still in the office?’

‘Yeah. Looking into this missing girl. Thing is, I’ve got a crossover between that case and one of your arrestees from this morning. A Stephen Lockwood. He’s a known associate of the father of my victim’s best friend. Do you mind if I have a word with him? Not as a suspect or anything, just a possible witness.’

‘He’ll want something in return, mate. I’d bet on it.’

‘If so, what can I offer him?’

Jim sucked in air. ‘He’s a prime player, Pete. He’s going down this time, so the cupboard’s bare unless he can give us his international connections as well as what you want.’

‘Oh, well. I’ll have a go anyway, if that’s all right.’

‘Sure. Go for it. Just don’t hold out too much hope, eh?’

‘Fair enough. See you tomorrow.’

He put the phone down again and got up from his desk. ‘Right, I’m off to the dungeons.’

Dave looked up from his screen. ‘There’s nothing on her laptop to indicate anything amiss.’

‘OK. That was quick.’

‘We aim to please, boss.’

Pete headed for the door, the squad room almost empty now, with the day shift nearly all gone.

Downstairs, he signed into the custody suite and let the fat, wheezing middle-aged sergeant lead him along the narrow corridor between the cells. He stopped at one about a third of the way along on the left, shot the steel shutter on the hatch and peered in, then inserted the key and turned it. ‘There you go.’

‘Thanks, Bob.’

Pete stepped in and the door clanged shut behind him. ‘Hello, Stephen. DS Gayle.’

Lockwood was in his mid-thirties with long, straggly brown hair and skin that looked like it had needed a wash since soap was invented. He stared blankly up at Pete from the built-in bed at the back of the cell, where he slouched indolently.

‘What do you want?’

‘I gather you’re a pal of Neil Sanderson’s.’ Pete leaned against the wall, just inside the door and folded his arms.

‘Don’t know him.’

‘Yes, you do. I’m not involved in the drugs thing. His daughter’s a friend of a girl who’s gone missing. I want to know if he’d be involved in something like that. As far as you know.’

‘What? Kiddy-fiddling? I don’t know nothing about that.’

Pete sighed. ‘I didn’t say you did, did I? I want to know if Neil Sanderson might, that’s all.’

‘Then why don’t you ask him?’

‘Because I don’t like being lied to, Stevie. And if he was involved, that’s what he’d do, isn’t it? Lie to me.’

Lockwood laughed. ‘You’re in the wrong job, ain’t you? If you don’t like being lied to.’

‘I don’t like it. Doesn’t mean I can’t see it when it happens. Or that I won’t do something about it.’

‘Well, screw you, piggy. I ain’t telling you anything. And that’s no lie.’

‘So, you’d rather see a paedophile get away with it than talk to me?’

‘What of it?’

‘Makes you an accessory after the fact, that’s what, Stevie. And kiddy-fiddling, as you call it, gets you a whole lot more downtime than pushing a few pills. Whether or not I let it be known in Her Majesty’s hotel, up the road, that’s what you’re in for.’

Lockwood looked considerably paler all of a sudden. ‘You wouldn’t.’

Pete raised an eyebrow, his gaze locked on the other man’s, and waited.

Lockwood swallowed and wiped a hand over his face. ‘Look, I know he likes them young, but I don’t know nothing about nothing like that. Why don’t you ask his missus? His kid? They’d know, wouldn’t they?’

Pete watched him carefully for a long second. ‘All right. Thank you, Stephen. And how to you know Sanderson?’

‘Judo. I used to do a bit.’ He sat up straighter, staring at Pete.

Pete smiled and pushed himself off the wall. He tapped on the door. The key turned and it swung open. ‘Thanks, Bob.’

‘You get what you need?’ The uniformed man swung the door shut with a clang and locked it.

‘Mm. Not that it got me any further forward.’

CHAPTER 6

By the time Pete turned into the street where he lived, barely a mile from the station, the smell of fish and chips that permeated the car had gone from appetising to nauseating as he worried about the problems this case could throw up. Its similarities to their own were bound to cause trouble at home. It would be a reminder, if nothing else. But there was nothing he could do about that. The girl needed him – and needed him to be on top of his game. To find her before the sick bastard who’d taken her – if that was what had happened – went one step further and killed her like the Jane Doe they had discussed earlier.