‘I thought you’d want to look at that one. It’s not too far from Emma’s flat and it happened on Saturday around midnight. The motorcyclist was hit head on. The rider’s at St Thomas hospital.’
‘Is he all right?’
‘No, I’m afraid not. He’s in a coma. But forensics are going to compare the paint from Pearce’s BMW against the car that caused this accident and the other ones where they have samples. It’s going to take a little while, I’m afraid.’
‘Thanks for helping. You don’t need to, though. You’re here to work on the sexual assault series.’
‘I’ve got a running profile for that case and there’s a whole team on it. I want to help with this. I have the time.’
‘Well, we could use the help,’ Loxton admitted. She glanced down at the notes she’d been making, realizing they didn’t make much sense. Where are you Emma? was repeated on the page several times. She screwed the paper up into a tight ball, throwing it onto the table in front of her.
‘Come on, we’re getting out of here,’ Lena said. ‘Tomorrow morning’s going to be busy when these results come back, and I’m exhausted and starving.’
‘You go ahead; I won’t stay much longer. I’ll just check the CCTV one more time.’ Loxton clicked onto the footage again.
‘You’re not a machine and you’ve been over that already,’ Lena said. ‘The team are going to check it again tomorrow. It’s not all on you. You need to go home, get some rest.’
‘You go ahead. This won’t take long.’ The truth was Loxton couldn’t bear the idea of going home. Being alone in her flat, knowing Emma was missing, was too much. Lena seemed to read her mind.
‘I saw a Chinese around the corner. Kowalski told me it stays open late,’ Lena said. ‘We can have some food, a quick drink, and then we’ll both be able to get a few hours’ sleep before we need to be back here in the morning.’
Loxton’s head felt fuggy and she was struggling to focus her eyes. The images on the screen had become grainy and blurred. She barely knew Lena, but even Lena could see that Loxton was breaking. She needed to hide it better or she would be taken off the case. Loxton had been the last known person to see Emma alive and she couldn’t help blaming herself. If she’d have gone with her, made sure she’d got home okay, maybe none of this would have happened.
Lena picked up the screwed-up ball of paper. ‘If I get that in the bin over there, we’re going to get something to eat and then go home. If I miss, I’ll stay and help you go through the CCTV, again.’
Loxton glanced at the small wastepaper bin. It was a good four metres away. ‘Good luck,’ she said.
Lena smiled and tossed the paper ball into the air. Loxton watched with amazement as it landed straight in the middle of the bin. A perfect shot.
‘I played basketball at school.’ Lena grinned. ‘And I was on the police team in Poland. You never stood a chance.’ She pulled their coats off the stand, handing Loxton hers.
* * *
The Chinese was almost empty, except for one guy on his own in his early twenties, halfway through his meal.
It was late, nearly 11pm, but the greasy food smelt good and she ordered beef and egg fried rice and a Tsingtao beer. Lena ordered a spicy noodle chicken dish and the same beer, which the waiter brought them as they waited for their food.
‘How are you holding up?’ Lena asked.
‘I don’t know.’ Loxton realized she hadn’t talked about it; she’d just gone straight into police mode; the need to talk suddenly felt overwhelming. ‘It’s surreal. I keep thinking that it can’t be happening. That Emma’s going to call me any minute, tell me she’s okay and that there’s been a silly mistake.’
Lena nodded. ‘I remember having to work on a case where a colleague had been stabbed on duty. It was awful. It wasn’t just seeing him hurt – vulnerable; it was realizing that we were all vulnerable. That at any moment we could be the one on life support in a hospital bed.’
Loxton nodded. She didn’t feel prepared for this. It was like she was struggling in the deep end, being pulled under, while her friends around her were already drowning. Their only suspect was on bail, because without a body or any evidence that foul play had occurred, they hadn’t been able to charge him.
Lena took a sip of beer. ‘You know, no one would blame you if you wanted to step back. I know it’s not my place, and I can see that you disagree, but I just feel someone has to say it. There are plenty of people working on the case. You don’t have to put yourself through this. Everyone would understand.’
‘Did Dominik put you up to this?’ Loxton hadn’t meant to sound so harsh, but then she couldn’t believe Kowalski had talked about her to Lena.
Lena put her hands up. ‘Okay, guilty as charged. But it’s only because he cares about you. And I know I’ve only just met you, but I like you, Alana. And any friend of Dominik’s is a friend of mine. He’s just trying to look out for you, that’s all.’
Loxton wanted to ask if Lena and Kowalski were an item, but it was none of her business. Still, she found herself irrationally irritated with her. She knew she was just trying to help, and so was Kowalski, but somehow it felt like a betrayal. Loxton blamed her tiredness for making everything worse.
‘I appreciate the concern,’ she managed. ‘But I’m fine. I’d feel terrible not being involved.’
‘I thought you’d say that; I’d be the same,’ Lena said. ‘But you’ve got to look after yourself. You can’t work twenty-four seven. There’s a whole team working on this, and we’re all in this together. You’re not alone, is what I mean. It’s not all on you.’
Loxton nodded, too tired to argue and knowing it wouldn’t do any good. Lena couldn’t understand. It was Emma – Loxton’s friend out there, not anyone Lena knew. Gone.
The waiter placed their food in front of them. Loxton was surprised by how hungry she was until she realized that the last thing she’d eaten was a sandwich for lunch. She tucked in gratefully with chopsticks and had to admit to herself that Lena was right. She was no good to anyone if she couldn’t think straight.
She sipped the crisp beer and felt her body relax.
‘This is tasty,’ Lena said.
Loxton smiled. ‘It’s one of our favourites. I mean… Dominik loves it here.’ It sounded odd when she said it out loud. She felt a pang of guilt that she was here with someone else, and almost laughed at herself.
‘How is Dominik?’ Lena asked. ‘I haven’t seen him for a couple of years. I’ve been in the UK for four months working as a profiler and I hadn’t got around to meeting up with him until now. We’re always so busy with this job, aren’t we?’
Loxton felt a wave of relief. Perhaps Lena and Kowalski weren’t as close as she thought. ‘Dominik’s good. He’s just been told he’s being put forward for promotion.’
‘That’s great,’ Lena said. ‘That’ll be good for him.’
‘He deserves it,’ Loxton agreed. ‘He works hard.’
‘I guess you’ll miss him?’ Lena asked. ‘You two seem very close.’
‘We’ve only been working together for a few months. I’ll miss him, but people move on. That’s what the police is like.’ Loxton found it easy to say the words, but she didn’t feel them at all. She couldn’t imagine not working with Kowalski and wondered whether they would see each other still, or lose touch like he and Lena apparently had.
‘You know it’s strange to think how much he’s changed from when I met him in police training school,’ Lena said. ‘His accent is almost like yours now. He’s only been here five years but he barely sounds Polish. It’s incredible.’
Loxton nodded, having never really noticed. She could always detect Kowalski’s Polish accent but then, compared to Lena, she supposed he did sound more like a Londoner.
‘He’s always been like that,’ Lena sighed. ‘Trying to fit in. Always feeling like an outsider. We were both born in small farming villages. Both desperate to get away from it all, to see the bright lights of Krakow or Wars
aw. And we made it as far as Krakow at least, both joining the police at the same time. And years later he came here for even brighter lights. It happens to a lot of people away from home. To fit in, they have to shed their old skin, like a piece of clothing that no longer suits them. You’re smiling?’
‘I’m sorry, you’ve just gone into profiler mode,’ Loxton said. ‘It’s fascinating to watch but a little scary. It might be me next.’
Lena laughed, her whole face lighting up. ‘I must stop doing that. I sound like a… a duck. Is that what you call it?’
‘A duck?’ Loxton paused. ‘Oh, I think you mean “quack”. We call it a quack.’
Lena laughed and Loxton joined her.
‘I meant one of them,’ Lena said, smiling. ‘English sayings can be so funny. And I’m sorry. I just haven’t seen him for so long and here I am pulling him to pieces in front of you. Please, ignore me – I’m tired, and when I’m tired, I talk too much and it’s usually rubbish. Also, I don’t normally drink.’ She held the bottle up that was nearly empty.
‘It’s fine, don’t worry.’ Loxton smiled. She admired Lena. Her mind never stopped; she was always trying to work people out. It was a good skill to have in their line of work.
Lena finished off her noodles and downed the last of her beer. ‘We’d better get going; we need to be back in at seven.’
Loxton didn’t want to go home, but Lena was right: she had to try to sleep, even if it meant more nightmares. For a moment she thought about asking Lena if she wanted another beer, but then pushed the thought away. She was surprised by how much she didn’t want to be alone; normally it didn’t bother her.
‘I’m going to the underground,’ Loxton said.
‘I’m grabbing a cab,’ Lena yawned. ‘See you in the morning – and take care of yourself.’
‘I will,’ Loxton said. She left the restaurant and walked the short distance to the Elephant and Castle underground station. In the station she couldn’t shake the feeling that there was someone there. Following her. She cursed herself for not getting a cab.
She stopped on the platform, quiet at this hour, letting one tube go past and then another. But everybody who walked onto the platform boarded the first tube that came along. She was being paranoid and chided herself as she got onto the next tube.
All the same, she couldn’t stop checking the passengers near her, looking for anything out of place. She couldn’t ignore that feeling of being watched, like an itch she couldn’t scratch. Always there, persistent and urgent.
Chapter 11
Thursday 27 January, 06:10
‘Couldn’t sleep either?’ Kowalski asked her as she walked into Walworth CID.
‘I got a bit of sleep,’ she said. She’d woken up early and couldn’t get back to sleep, her mind racing.
A call came out on the radio. ‘Body found in Camberwell Police Station. Any unit to attend? Witness on scene is Polish and will need a translator,’ the operator said.
‘We can attend,’ Loxton responded. ‘We’re five minutes away and we have an officer who can speak Polish.’ She glanced at Kowalski, who nodded.
‘Received, assigning you. Witness is still on the site. She’s the police station’s cleaner. She wasn’t making much sense. The alleged body is an adult female. Sit rep once you get there.’
‘Understood, over and out,’ Loxton said.
She stared at Kowalski with growing dread. A body in Camberwell Police Station. That station was usually empty outside of office hours. And Emma worked in Camberwell.
* * *
The station was eerily quiet. It had been unmanned overnight for several years and had been marked for closure. There wasn’t a living soul around as Loxton used her warrant card to open the electronic gate and Kowalski drove into the yard to park. Loxton scanned the area. Everything seemed in order. She had to swipe her warrant card to unlock the entrance door into the police station.
The cleaner was waiting inside the entrance, her face grey and her hands visibly shaking as she twisted a cloth in them. Kowalski showed her his warrant card and spoke to her gently in Polish. She looked relieved and reached for his hand, grabbing hold of it tight. She pointed down the corridor, her voice shrill and panicked as she replied to him.
‘She’s going to show us where the body is,’ Kowalski said. They followed her through the corridors and up some stairs into the main office. Each step Loxton took felt like she was walking towards the executioner’s chair. She dreaded what she would see.
The office seemed normal, chairs in front of desks, nothing out of place. The cleaner had stayed by the door, too frightened to come in, and Loxton glanced back at her. She was muttering to herself quietly as if in prayer. She pointed towards the far corner, but she wouldn’t look in that direction.
Loxton walked towards it, her senses heightening. She saw a small window to her right and through it she could see a waning moon, hanging in the black sky.
She saw nothing out of the ordinary until she was almost on top of the body. It was slumped in the corner, sat with its back against the wall. You could walk most of the office and not spot it sat on the floor between the two desks. Its legs were outstretched, arms hanging limply to the sides. The head was leaning backwards. The body was a woman’s and she was naked. Loxton leaned in to take a closer look at the face.
It was Emma.
Loxton shook her head. Nothing was in her brain. Just white noise. She kept shaking it, trying to dislodge the scene in front of her.
Kowalski crouched next to the body and touched the neck with his gloved hand for a full minute. ‘No pulse.’ His face was pale. His eyes met Loxton’s but all she could do was carry on shaking her head.
‘It is Emma, isn’t it?’ Kowalski asked, his voice urgent. ‘I haven’t seen her for years and she looks – different.’
‘It’s… it’s Emma.’ Loxton’s voice jarred in her throat. Emma’s face was swollen and tinged blue, making her look strange. Her slim face and infectious smile gone forever.
‘Alana, are you sure?’ Kowalski leaned closer to Loxton, his voice soothing, as if he were talking to a lost child.
‘Yes. Yes, it’s her. This is insane. I just… I just don’t understand who would do this.’ Loxton waved her hand towards the body, slumped like a drunk fallen asleep against a wall. But it wasn’t a body. It was Emma, her old friend.
The cleaning woman was howling now from the other side of the office. Loxton had forgotten she was there, but her anguish came crashing into Loxton’s head, along with the horror of what was happening. The woman was wringing her hands now, pulling at them viciously, as if they were burning her. The cloth was dropped on the floor, forgotten.
Loxton had seen hundreds of bodies and violent deaths, but she knew this sight would haunt her until her dying day.
‘I’ll check for a preliminary cause of death.’ Kowalski said. ‘May I?’
Loxton nodded, unable to speak.
Kowalski crouched next to Emma. He put his hands on either side of her head and came so close to her face that for a moment Loxton was sure he was going to kiss her. But he was peering into her eyes.
‘I’ve seen this before.’ Kowalski leaned backwards and looked up at Loxton. ‘The capillaries in her eyes have burst.’ He gently felt her neck and moved her head from side to side. ‘Strangulation. And with some serious force. Her windpipe’s been crushed.’
Loxton shook her head in amazement. Whoever had done this was strong.
Kowalski stood up.
The Polish woman became more hysterical and she began to shout, ‘Szyman´ski! Szyman´ski!’
‘What’s she saying?’ Loxton asked Kowalski.
‘It more or less translates as “it’s terrible”.’ Kowalski paused, frowning in confusion. ‘She’s not making much sense. Let me talk to her, see if she saw anything.’ Kowalski went over to the cleaner and tried to calm her. The cleaner’s voice burnt into Loxton’s synapses, the animal panic of it, as if she were in danger herself.
Loxton crouched next to Emma. ‘Who did this to you?’ she asked, knowing that Emma couldn’t answer her back.
Loxton scanned the body carefully, looking for any signs of defensive wounds, but there were none. There were burn marks on her wrists, as if something had been rubbing against them. And then Loxton saw something in Emma’s hand.
Loxton put on her own gloves before carefully retrieving whatever it was she was clutching. Even though Loxton’s fingers were covered in blue plastic, she shivered when she peeled Emma’s fingers apart to retrieve the object. The fingers were creaky in protest and cold to the touch where she’d instinctively expected them to be warm.
She looked up at Kowalski. ‘Rigor mortis is setting in.’
‘What?’ Kowalski turned from the cleaner and came over frowning. ‘But that means she only died in the last twelve hours. She’s been missing since Saturday.’
‘Whoever took her must have kept her alive,’ Loxton said. ‘And then they placed her here.’ What had Emma endured before her death, alone and terrified? Not completely alone, though; someone had been there with her.
Loxton held up the piece of paper that she’d found and read the printed-out words:
‘This has been a long time coming for Emma, the lying whore. Back off Alana or you’ll be next. The war’s started.’
Loxton looked at Kowalski in horror.
Kowalski stared at the paper, clearly shocked. ‘He’s named you in the note?’
Loxton nodded, speechless.
‘Pearce is playing some sick game.’ Kowalski frowned in anger. ‘He knows you’re leading the missing person case with me. He’s insane.’
She couldn’t believe Pearce was capable of this. This didn’t feel like a crime of passion; it felt planned. The locked gates had still been intact, with CCTV trained on them. The entrance door had been locked. How would Pearce have got Emma over the six-foot brick perimeter wall and then inside the police station without anyone noticing? She felt bile rising up her throat as she thought of someone capable of pulling this off and who wanted Emma dead. Edward Barratt. But he was in Broadmoor; it was madness to think it was him, so she kept her thoughts to herself. ‘But how could Pearce have got her in here?’ she asked instead.
Your Life or Mine Page 6
