“I recognize that voice. It’s my daughter’s.”
Chapter 7
Third floor, New Scotland Yard
Quinn sat in Dresden’s impersonal office, his muscles tense as he took the Skype call from his commanding officer. Idris had gone over his head by phoning Dresden in Birmingham to report on Quinn. Now Dresden was dishing out an internet dressing down.
“It sounds like a missing person’s report, Standing. That’s something Bromley Police can handle. It’s not a case for the Youth Crimes Team.” Dresden’s voice over the phone sounded implacable.
“Ma’am, I played the recording for you. You have to admit it definitely sounds like an attack on a busload of young girls aged between twelve and fifteen. Since we’re the Youth Crimes Team, I can’t see how this doesn’t fall within our jurisdiction. ” Despite the privacy offered by Dresden’s office, Quinn kept his voice low and his curses to himself.
“There may be an alleged crime, but our jurisdiction is to solve crime committed by youth to keep the community safe. We don’t have a clear indication of what happened. Plus one of the team’s members is intimately connected. Carson said both of Morgan’s daughters are on the bus. I’m not risking the fate of the team again through any inappropriate action. I’ve already had to placate higher ups because of perceived inappropriate behavior from our first case.”
Dresden’s tone betrayed growing irritation. Quinn realized that pleading the merits of the case would get him nowhere and he needed to switch tactics. He was sure that what drove Dresden was ambition. He remembered how she had basked in the reporters’ adulation in the Dunreath case, so excited she’d almost orgasmed.
“Nearly twenty families have been impacted by today’s event so I guarantee this is going to cause a media frenzy. The public will be in an uproar. Solving this case will raise the Youth Crimes Team profile to new heights and really cement our position as a leading juvenile crime authority.”
He watched Dresden’s face on the screen. He could see how avidly she wanted to bask in the limelight.
“You said it yourself Standing, solving this case. If we take this on and end up with twenty-two corpses it won’t do our reputation any good.”
“That’s why we’ve got to act fast. I don’t think those girls are dead. Whoever kidnapped them, wants them alive. It would have been much easier to blow the bus sky high in front of the school if the perp had only wanted dead bodies.”
“Both Wynter and I will be back in the office on Monday. If there’s still a case I’ll talk to her about taking it on then.”
Quinn’s temples throbbed. He stood up, leaning over the desk to glare into Dresden’s computer screen. “If we wait till Monday the leads will be cold and those girls could be dead or out of the country. Eli’s daughters could be dead or gone forever!”
“Sit down, Standing. Don’t think your tactics are going to intimidate me.”
Startled, Quinn looked down at himself. He hadn’t even noticed he had risen to his feet. Instinct, a snarling primal instinct, had pushed him to fight for Eli’s interests as strongly as he would his own simply because Eli was part of his team. For a moment he was shocked to realize just how much he cared about the lads he’d spent the best part of a month with.
“Everything in this job is political, Standing. With your connections, you of all people should know that. It’s all down to the bottom line and who’s screwing who in the end.”
Quinn bit back his frustration as he sat down.
“Just give me until Monday morning, Ma’am. Then you and DCI Wynter can review the case and our progress to make a determination about whether or not to continue.” He hated conceding even an inch to Wynter’s authority. “All I’m asking is for a weekend to get this case under control. I promise not to take any action that will have repercussions on the team.” No need to go into details that he intended to pull out every stop necessary to solve this case before Wynter stepped foot over the threshold.
“You’ve got some very pushy balls on you, Standing,” Dresden said without a trace of humor.
“So I’ve been told, Ma’am.”
“Go ahead, with the proviso that this is tied personally to you, Standing. I don’t want any crap falling back on this team. Make sure you keep Morgan away from any aspect of this investigation. We came too close to closing down in our last case. I want to at least celebrate our one month anniversary.”
“Understood, Ma’am,” Quinn said on a sigh of relief. She had laid out exactly what he could expect: if he solved the case Dresden would seize the glory; if he failed it would be his arse hung out to dry.
Chapter 8
Fairbridge House College, Bromley
The afternoon had whittled away by the time Bex posted bail for Josh and they left Bromley Police Station. Her skirmish with the two EFE members entailed giving a witness statement, but she had managed to fob off that task until the following week, concerned about keeping Josh waiting.
As it was, she found him anxiously pacing his holding cell. Only when she appeared did the dread and uncertainty leave his face. He had obviously got himself overwrought fearing she had changed her mind about freeing him.
She led him outside and they paused on the steps leading to the sidewalk as a grey drizzle greeted them. After two weeks in London, Bex was beginning to acclimatize to weather that required carrying an umbrella as part of normal attire. She’d arrived in London during a heat wave and now she was shivering.
“What happened to your jacket?” Now that he was free again, Josh was regaining his cockiness.
“What do you mean?”
He moved her arm and she looked down to see a rent along the side seam.
“Bloody hell!” she spat out the words with annoyance. Frowning, she passed her fingers through the material. The jacket was ruined. “It must have happened during my scuffle at the court,” she answered him.
“Just keep your arm clamped to your side and no one will notice,” he said offhandedly.
Bex sighed. There was nothing she could do about it for the moment, but if she continued ruining shoes and clothes at this rate she was going to run through her wardrobe faster than Kendall Jenner on the catwalk.
“You said the school was in Bromley?” She checked her watch. They still had a short window of time before the school day ended.
“The school’s off Hazlehurst Street. We can get there easy by car. Where is your car?”
Resting at Armonk, New York, in her parents’ garage, she thought. Getting around London still posed issues. Reuben had downloaded a handy app to her phone whereby she tracked public transport but, so far, she had only used the Tube to travel between Ealing and the Police Training College. “No car, but if it’s not too far we can cab it.”
As their taxi approached Fairbridge House College along a private road that ended in a parking lot in front of the administration building, Bex understood what Josh meant by its isolation. The narrow road forked to the left around the school grounds, but seemed to lead nowhere else. On the other side of the road a high wooden fence contained a park and beyond that she could just discern the back gardens of a row of houses.
The administration building was a plain, field stone building with a long wing of classrooms to the right, bordering the parking lot. Running along the edge of the parking lot were two tennis courts, and beyond them she glimpsed the golf course Josh had mentioned. On the left hand side were a series of glasshouses. Presumably the other school buildings unfolded beyond the administration block.
“Bit late to be picking the kids up from school, ain’t it, luv?” the cabbie said as he discharged them.
“I certainly hope someone’s still around,” she replied, handing over the fare.
Bex eyed the three lone flagpoles that stood like sentinels in front of the main office and the one car parked in a marked bay. It was still drizzling, cloaking the scene in a fine mist.
“Where are all the kids?” she asked Josh as the cabbie circled the par
king lot and took off. “The school grounds look deserted.”
“Some private schools knock off early on the last day of term,” he informed her. “That’s so the teachers can skive off early to get their packing done for their overseas holidays.”
Bex shot him a skeptical look at his glib explanation, but didn’t comment. “Whereabouts were you waiting when you got attacked?”
Josh pointed to the side of the administration building near the glass houses. There was some overgrown shrubbery shielding that area from the parking lot.
“Which direction did he sneak up on you from?”
Josh shrugged.
“Okay, think. Which way were you facing? Towards the building or away?”
“I had pushed myself backwards into the bushes, looking around while I waited for Reece. So I was facing in the direction of the building. The bloke nabbed me from the left.”
“So he didn’t come from the road, he must’ve come from one of the school buildings. Which would make sense if it really was the caretaker.”
“I told all this to Ingram, but she wasn’t interested.”
She patted his arm. “Don’t worry, we’ll find some evidence to back up your story.”
Bex moved to the side of the building, her glance running along the wall. She spotted a camera mounted towards the front, trained on the nearest glasshouse. The rest of the wall was clear. She had been hoping there would be CCTV footage to reinforce Josh’s story. From this position she could see that behind the administration building were other two and three story structures that she presumed were classrooms.
She left Josh outside the glass doors leading into the administration office. Behind a faux wooden desk, a woman in her early fifties, her short grey hair colored to a bright white, greeted her with a startled look. Bex read her name badge: Mrs Marian Malone, Manager, Corporate Services.
“School’s closed for the long holidays,” she said.
“I’ve come to have a word with your custodian. I mean, the school caretaker,” Bex said, using one of the stock phrases she’d been drilled in and flashing her warrant card.
“I presume you mean our site manager. He’s not at work. His normal hours are from 7:00 a.m. to 9:00 a.m. in the morning and then 5:00 p.m. to 7:00 p.m. in the afternoon.”
“So, he’ll be back here at five?”
“Oh, no, not today.” Mrs Malone shook her head, increasing Bex’s frustration levels. “Because the school’s now closed for the summer, he’ll spend the weekend here doing a thorough stock take of the classrooms to compile a list of what furnishings need repairs before the start of the new school year.”
“Fine. Do you have a name for him and a number I can contact him on?”
Mrs Malone consulted her computer and then wrote the number on a sticky note for her.
“Do you think talking to the caretaker will shed light on the situation?” Mrs Malone asked curiously, her voice loaded with doubt.
“It’s just necessary to rule out all possibilities,” Bex answered absently.
“I suppose that’s true. I’ll inform Ms. Stidolph, the Head Mistress, that police attended the premises. Do you want to question anyone else?”
“I might do later. It seems like the place is deserted though.”
“Yes, they can’t get out of here fast enough come the end of the school year. Classes ended today at 1:00 p.m. and most of the teachers disappeared by 2:00 p.m. Ms. Stidolph normally stays till the end of the day finishing up financial reports and summaries, but she’s leaving for the Bahamas tonight. I’m leaving the grounds myself very shortly, so if there’s anything else the police need I hope you’ll sort it out before then. I don’t suppose you’re able to fill me in on any details yet?”
“No, I can’t reveal any details at the moment while I’m still looking into the case. I noticed that the school’s equipped with surveillance cameras. Do you know if there’s a camera trained anywhere along the side of the admin building?”
Mrs Malone threw her a puzzled look. “Do you want me to send that through too?”
Bex felt uncomfortable. She wasn’t officially investigating the case so she couldn’t be in possession of evidence, but there was nothing illegal about viewing the footage, she told herself. “If you could just access the footage from Thursday, the twentieth around midnight, I can view it here.”
“I suppose it’s alright because you’re the police. You’ll have to come into the office. Our surveillance computer isn’t accessible to the general public.”
Bex followed Mrs Malone through to a partitioned area. She watched over her shoulder, while the manager accessed the relevant computer program. “You’re lucky I’ve already done this today, so I know exactly what to do,” she informed Bex.
After several minutes she shook her head. “We don’t have any stations in that area. There is a camera mounted at the front of the dormitory, which sits at the back of admin. That might have provided some relevant footage. Unfortunately, those cameras were switched off when the Sixth Form girls moved out of the dorm several weeks ago. Our younger students don’t board, so the area has been unattended. I’m sorry. I hope it won’t adversely impact your investigation?”
“Thank you for trying. You can’t think of anything out of the ordinary that happened that week, can you? For instance, the custodian didn’t call in sick or you had any temporary staff on the premises?”
Mrs Malone pursed her lips. “It’s a busy week for us and my staff were run off their feet helping teachers prepare end of year reports. But as far as I remember, everything went smoothly. I’m sure I can speak for Ms. Stidolph when I say the school is very anxious about achieving a resolution. We’re keen to help in any way we can with whatever the police want,” she said earnestly.
“Thank you,” Bex said again. She had an odd feeling she and Mrs Malone were talking at cross purposes. She put the vague feeling out of her mind. It was time to get Josh home.
Chapter 9
Third floor, New Scotland Yard
“Do you think it’s a kidnapping?” Reuben whispered to Idris.
Idris frowned and shrugged his shoulders.
Reuben had a map of the area around Fairbridge House College on his screen. “There are a dozen schools within a three mile radius of each other. Honestly, it looks like high school central going on. But there’s only one school exclusively for girls. Do you think that’s significant?”
“Hard to know what’s important at this stage. Fairbridge is a private school, but it’s not upper crust. Most of the parents are like Eli, both of them working their arses off to meet the term fees. Why take a whole busload of girls if you wanted a ransom? No, you’d target the richest families at the school and pick one kid. One kid is enough to handle. But twenty-two? Where do you keep twenty-two girls alive? And if you were going for rich pickings, you’re not going to find that family in Bromley. More likely Westminster or Kensington. I think we can rule out kidnapping for ransom.”
“You think they’re dead?”
Reuben dropped his voice to a bare murmur, but even so Idris hushed him. He checked the end of the desk where Eli was slumped, his blank stare fixed on the computer. He didn’t seem to be paying them attention.
“Don’t let Eli hear you use that word. There’s no use speculating on the worst-case scenario. Like Quinn said, if it was terrorists wanting to make an impression, we’d be picking limbs off the pavement by now. No, this is something different. Whoever took them wants those girls alive.”
Reuben fell silent. “If they weren’t targeted for their money, then…?”
“Well, like you said, the targets weren’t from a co-ed school and not one of them older than fifteen.”
“You think they were taken for sex? Twenty-two of them? Is someone setting up a brothel?”
“That’s enough speculation for a case we shouldn’t even be handling. But of course that’s Quinn Standing’s modus operandi, he just takes matters into his own hands and lets the shit fall whe
re it may. I wish I was a fly on the wall to hear what Dresden says to him.” Idris returned to scanning through CCTV footage that he and Reuben had collected from businesses along the bus route. Quinn had tasked them with pinpointing exactly what happened to the bus once it left the school.
* * *
“Right, we’ve got the go ahead from Dresden. Idris, give me an update on that CCTV footage.” Returning from his Skype call, Quinn’s tone was bland, but his eyes narrowed sharply as he focused on Idris.
Idris shifted his bulk in the chair and Quinn read the incredulous look in his pale eyes. He could tell that Idris doubted his word. If Idris didn’t believe that Dresden would approve such a risky investigation, then he could go to hell. Quinn was not about to share Dresden’s strictures.
After a long moment of silence, Reuben broke the staring competition. “We’re on it, Quinn, but there’s not much to report. What about using TRACKER to recover the bus? I spoke with the office manager at Nimble Bus Line and he said their fleet had been equipped with the tracking devices. I took the bus’s serial number. I also spoke with the bus driver’s wife, but she’s as puzzled as everyone else about his disappearance with the bus.”
“Good work, Reuben. Feed the serial number through to dispatch. One of the police cars must be able to locate it once its triggered. What about the girls’ phones? A bunch of teenagers are all bound to have their phones on them. Idris, see if you can get locations on them, just in case the girls have been split up.”
“It’s not likely they will have been allowed to keep their phones, is it Quinn?” Idris’s voice held a challenge.
“I know it’s a long shot. But we’ve got to try all avenues.”
Quinn turned away, stopping by Eli’s desk. He was shocked by how drawn the man looked. “Hey, mate, you really shouldn’t be here. You’re too invested in the case. Go home and support Sydney,” he said gently.
“I won’t get in the way, but I’ve got to be on hand,” Eli insisted. His eyes implored Quinn. “You can always use another pair of eyes on the CCTV footage along the bus route.”
Bex Wynter Box Set Page 19
