Lost Girls

by Angela Marsons

  They walked single file beside the Fiesta and knocked on the door.

  ‘If I ask her nicely do you think she'll give me the lottery numbers for Saturday?’

  ‘Shut up,’ she snapped.

  She listened closely for any sound of movement. There was none. She knocked again and leaned down to open the letterbox. The front door led into a small hallway from which she could see a couple of plain white doors but nothing beyond. She listened keenly for sounds from the house. Silence.

  She knocked again, harder, and moved to the left-hand side of the door. She pressed her face against the window but could see nothing through the heavy net curtain.

  ‘Knock again, Bryant,’ she said, stepping backwards. The window to the other side of the door was equally obscured.

  Kim looked at Bryant and they both looked at the car.

  ‘I'm going round the back. Try next door,’ she said, nodding to the adjoining property.

  ‘Guv …’

  ‘Just do it, Bryant,’ she growled.

  The side of the property was unencumbered. A roll of logs rose a foot from the ground to mark the boundary to the property on the left.

  The back door was a single panel of distorted glass. Kim could make out shapes but nothing else. The window was bare and looked into a small, bright kitchen.

  Kim could feel the frustration building in her stomach. ‘Come on, Eloise, where the hell are you?’

  ‘Guv, neighbour last saw her yesterday afternoon with a couple of bags from Aldi.’

  ‘Look in that window,’ she said, stepping back. His extra couple of inches might see beyond the immediate area.

  Bryant looked in and cast a glance over the area. He began to shake his head and then stopped. He adjusted his position and pressed his face against the glass.

  ‘Hang on, that might be …’

  ‘What?’ she said.

  He beckoned her towards him. ‘I'm gonna have to lift you up now; press your face against the glass and look to the far left.’

  Kim looked around for something to stand on but saw nothing.

  ‘Go,’ she said.

  Bryant formed a circle with his arms around her thighs and hoisted her so her head was a good twelve inches higher than his own. She did as he asked and saw the sliver of a wingback chair. At the top was a clutch of grey.

  ‘Put me down,’ Kim said.

  She headed straight for the door and knocked loudly. ‘Keep watching and see if she moves.’

  She knocked again on the glass door.

  Bryant shook his head.

  ‘Okay, we're going in,’ Kim said, looking around the garden for something heavy.

  ‘Hang on, Guv,’ Bryant said, taking a handkerchief from his pocket.

  He tried the door handle, which opened.

  Bryant shrugged in her direction, looking a little too pleased with himself.

  ‘Not one word,’ she said shortly, stepping past him.

  Kim traversed the small kitchen in three strides. The wingback chair was beside a small round table that held a mug of something cold and a copy of Pride and Prejudice. Beside the mug was a bowl of different coloured crystals.

  Kim moved to the front of the chair. The woman's eyes were closed and her mouth was slightly open.

  Her frame looked less portly clad in a thick cardigan, her legs covered by a shawl. Kim nudged her gently.

  ‘Eloise,’ she called.

  No response.

  Kim shook harder and called louder but the head simply lolled to the side.

  ‘She’s not asleep, Guv,’ Bryant said from behind.

  ‘Damn it,’ Kim said, stepping back.

  ‘Looks peaceful enough,’ Bryant said, tipping his head. ‘Might have been a stroke or something while she was sleeping.’

  Kim shook her head. ‘I should have bloody listened to her. What would it have hurt?’

  She stepped away and sighed deeply. Only a couple of days ago this woman had tried to tell her something and she'd been too damn stubborn to listen.

  She turned back to the body. ‘Best call an ambulance,’ she said as Bryant took out his phone.

  She took in the sight before her of a poor old woman who had died alone. From the bookcases behind it looked as though books had been her companions. Clearly a lover of the classics, Kim spied a Tolstoy, a few more Jane Austen novels and the full works of Dickens on Eloise’s shelves. A photograph of two dogs graced the windowsill but Kim could see no other evidence of their presence.

  ‘Looks like she was quite …’

  Her words trailed away as she studied the picture before her. There was something not right with this scene.

  Bryant ended his call. The ambulance was on its way.

  ‘Come and stand here,’ she said, tipping her head.

  He did so.

  ‘Anything strike you as a bit strange?’

  He looked from the curly grey hair down to the flowery slippers protruding from beneath the blanket.

  He shook his head. ‘Looks quite comfy and snug to me.’

  ‘Precisely,’ Kim said, stepping forward. She looked to the right of the woman and then the left.

  ‘Look at the shawl, Bryant. It's covering her hands.’

  Bryant looked to where both hands disappeared below the covering.

  He looked at her quizzically, then looked back at the old woman’s hands. ‘I don't get what …’

  Bryant stopped talking as he realised what Kim was referring to.

  ‘Shit, yeah, I see your point. It's like she's been tucked in.’

  That's how it looked to Kim. The shawl had been placed across her and then tucked into her hips on both sides. It was possible that she'd done it herself, that she'd smoothed the fabric behind her own hips and then burrowed her hands underneath, but it was unlikely when she had a drink to hold and a book to read.

  Kim moved forward and put her legs astride the feet of Eloise. She placed her hands on either side of the armchair and leaned in close.

  ‘Damn it,’ Kim said, as her eyes registered a speck resting at the woman's mouth. ‘Bryant, there's a dark blue fibre on her lip.’

  The shawl was red and navy.

  She reached forward and gently moved the lower lip.

  ‘Jesus Christ,’ she cried, jumping backwards.

  ‘Bloody hell, Guv …’

  Kim recovered from the shock quickly, her mind racing. She reached in again and placed two fingers to the soft skin of the neck.

  She turned to her colleague in wonder. ‘Bryant, put a rush on that ambulance. Our victim is still alive.’

  Bryant hesitated for just a second but took out his phone.

  ‘Eloise, if you can hear me, it's gonna be okay. There's an ambulance coming and we're not going to leave you.’

  There was no response.

  Kim placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, her heartbeat still up a gear.

  Bryant finished the call.

  ‘They're just two minutes out,’ he said, shaking his head.

  Although she'd never seen it, Kim knew that asphyxiation victims could fall into a coma before death. Whoever had smothered her had thought they'd done enough, but this lady had held on to a thin sliver of life.

  ‘So, you think our killing machine found out about Eloise and got worried she had something to say?’

  ‘No way, Bryant. Subject Two has been busy out killing and Subject One would need to have stayed with Charlie and Amy. I think this was the work of Subject Three.’

  As she heard the sound of sirens in the distance, Kim realised that Eloise hadn't shouted anything to do with a blue gate. She had been trying to warn her that she was going to be too late.

  Kim had to wonder if she'd meant for herself or for the girls.

  Seventy-One

  They watched as the ambulance pulled away.

  Kim had the urge to throw the car into gear and follow, simply because no one else did.

  As the ambulance exited the road a squad car entered. Officers would s
ecure the property, enabling them to leave.

  She had already called the scene in to Woody, who’d assured her he would dispatch a small forensics team to the house. She updated him on the state of the investigation. When she finished, the silence on the other end of the line had been heavy.

  Woody's disappointment paled against her own.

  Two small huddles of neighbours had gathered in the small street but no one had bothered to approach.

  ‘Look at ’em,’ Bryant said. ‘They're all just relieved it’s not them.’

  Eloise would arrive at the hospital as she had left her home. Alone.

  ‘Did Woody offer anything useful?’ Bryant asked, pulling away from the kerb.

  She shook her head. ‘Can't really blame him,’ Kim said. ‘Charlie and Amy should be home by now.’

  ‘Bloody hell, Guv, give yourself a break. No one could be working harder to get those kids back. You're living and breathing—’

  ‘They’re just kids, Bryant. Little girls. Wherever they are they’re terrified, confused, possibly hurt, God forbid even worse.’ A picture of their clothing came into her mind. ‘I need to get them back. I need to keep them safe,’ she said.

  ‘Keep, Guv?’

  She didn’t realise she’d said that. A vision of Mikey came into her head. ‘I meant make them safe,’ she said, blinking Mikey away.

  ‘We're going to find them, you know,’ Bryant said, staring forward.

  ‘How can you be so sure?’

  ‘Because you're not gonna rest until we do.’

  Kim couldn't fight the smile that tugged at her lips. And there it was. The simple truth that dispelled all doubt.

  ‘Okay, Bryant, get me back to the house, now.’

  Seventy-Two

  ‘So, what's that tell us, Doc?’ Kim said, fixing her gaze on Alison. An aerial view of the Black Country had been taped to the wall. Plotted on the map was the snatch site, the start and end of the bus route, and the drop site, all marked out in red pins.

  The impatience in her voice stemmed from the knowledge that the girls were not coming home tonight.

  Her own timeline was beginning to blur. She was sure their last briefing had taken place at least three days before instead of first thing that morning. She reminded herself it was still Wednesday.

  The vision of Eloise being taken away from her home would not disappear from her mind. Kim could kick her own arse for not even allowing the woman a minute. She resolved to call the hospital later. Just for her own peace of mind. Maybe if she’d just given Eloise a chance to speak she could have prevented this somehow.

  The case was affecting them all. Her team surrounded the table in various states of disarray. Bryant's tie had dropped a few levels. Dawson's shirt was crumpled and the red lines in Stacey's eyes were like an Ordnance Survey map.

  But tonight they had more work to do.

  The blue pins noted the two snatch sites of Suzie and Emily and the point at which Emily had been found.

  Yellow was for where Inga had been found.

  Alison stood and studied the map for a minute.

  ‘I'm no expert on geographic profiling. Much of the data comes from the premise of how a killer will interact with a crime scene or where and how a body was disposed.

  ‘It's assumed that if a body is found at a site different from that of the murder the killer generally lives in that area. Alternatively, if the body is left at the murder scene it's possible the killer is not local.’

  She covered her mouth briefly to stifle a yawn. The late nights were getting to her too, Kim thought.

  ‘A crime scene close to a major road can indicate the murderer is not familiar to the area. If the crime scene is a mile or more from a major road, this suggests the killer is local.’

  Alison continued to speak while staring at the plot points.

  ‘But some things remain a safe supposition. One is that each criminal has their patch. Organised killers stay close but disorganised killers roam more. And most people have an “anchor point”.’

  She turned and faced Kim. Her expression said, That's all I've got.

  ‘Thanks, Doc,’ Kim said. It wasn't a lot but that wasn't Alison's fault. There would be a pattern in there somewhere. It was just finding it.

  ‘Matt, any contact with the kidnappers?’

  ‘Trying,’ he answered, without looking at her. His focus was on the dots.

  ‘Care to elaborate?’

  ‘No.’

  Kim felt the irritation growing inside her. Her spelling of team didn't include the letter ‘I’. Obviously Matt spelt it differently.

  ‘Stace, I want you to draw a circle around all those dots and look at any recent criminal activity in that area. There might be something that jumps out. I still want to know what brought the incident to a close the last time. Why was Emily released without any payment and not Suzie? We have two murders and an attempted murder clearly carried out by someone else. And who the hell is Subject Three?’

  Everyone nodded their agreement.

  ‘I want everyone thinking about who this third person could be.’

  ‘Difficult when we don’t know who the first two are,’ Bryant offered.

  That was the stumbling block in her mind every time. If even one of the kidnappers was known to them they could work off known associations but they didn’t even have that.

  ‘Kev, anything from Inga’s post mortem to help?’

  ‘Clothes are a bit of a history lesson: traces of engine oil, wood preserver and rodent shit. In total seventeen broken bones, thirty-eight points of contact with either a foot or a fist and nine circles around her neck.’

  Kim noted that Dawson didn't need to refer to his notes to read off the statistics.

  The numbers told her that the woman had worked hard to avoid the inevitable.

  Her killer was a monster with no empathy for human suffering. He was volatile, with no regard for human life. He was taking unnecessary risks and there could only be one reason to have such a man on the team.

  The realisation hit her in the stomach.

  ‘They're not coming back,’ she whispered, looking around the room. ‘That's the purpose of Subject Two. His job is to kill the girls.’

  All eyes fell on her. In her gut she knew it was true. It was the only reason to have such a liability on the team. Subject Two had to have a necessary purpose. It was his job to clean up the mess.

  ‘I would agree,’ Matt said.

  ‘So, what's the point of the auction?’ Bryant asked.

  ‘Drives up the price,’ Kim said. ‘There's a difference in fighting for your child and doing so before someone beats you to it. It injects a note of speed, desperation.’

  Matt turned to Bryant. ‘Imagine a guy running a ten-thousand-metre race on his own, secure in the knowledge he'll come first. He'll run the race. Put another eight guys on the track with a hunger to win and our guy is going to dig deep. He'll find reserves of energy he didn't even know he had.’

  ‘So, this is all just to push up the price?’ Stacey asked.

  ‘And then they'll take both,’ Kim said. ‘They'll each be given a different drop-off point and time. And they'll take the lot.’

  Matt nodded his agreement.

  ‘That's a heck of an assumption,’ Alison said, doubtfully.

  ‘Said the profiler,’ Kim noted, as Matt's police-issue phone sounded the receipt of a text message.

  The room stilled and all eyes bored into him.

  ‘It's them,’ he said.

  Kim followed his eyes as it moved across the message.

  He raised his gaze to meet hers. ‘Damn it. This is not good.’

  Seventy-Three

  Holding her rage in check, Kim gathered all the parents in the lounge. Helen stood at the window. Matt leaned against the door frame. The rest of the team had remained in the incident room.

  Her gaze passed over them all individually. She lingered on Elizabeth's lip for a few seconds. Elizabeth looked to the floor.


  ‘Who made contact with the kidnappers?’

  The faces of Elizabeth and Stephen dropped. They looked at each other before turning their gaze accusingly on their friends.

  ‘I did,’ Robert said, calmly. There was no apology in his voice. He was just stating a fact.

  ‘How could you do that?’ Elizabeth cried.

  He turned to her and met her gaze. ‘How could I not?’

  Stephen crossed the space at speed but Matt inserted himself between them quicker.

  Robert didn't flinch.

  ‘You devious bastard,’ Stephen spat over Matt's shoulder. ‘How the hell could you do that? You fucking know—’

  ‘Stephen, calm down,’ Robert said, cutting off his words.

  Robert knew what? Kim wondered. Judging by the puzzled expression on Elizabeth's face, she was wondering the exact same thing.

  Stephen allowed Matt to push him gently to the other side of the room and Karen turned to him, eyes blazing. ‘If you can't control your temper then please leave my home.’

  Kim could see that Stephen’s rage was not yet spent, so quickly said, ‘If we can all calm down, the problem we now have is that the kidnappers won't deal with the negotiator. We have just received a text message stating they would prefer to respond to the parents’ request.’

  Robert nodded his understanding. ‘I'm sorry but I just—’

  Kim held up her hand. His apology was sincere but wouldn’t help. They could only move forward now with what they had. Kim's only surprise was that it was Robert and not Stephen who had broken first. Her gut told her there was a reason for that but she left it for now.

  ‘Have you received a text message back?’

  Robert nodded. ‘Fifteen minutes ago.’

  ‘Which said?’

  ‘Not an option.’

  Kim was confused. She assumed that Robert had offered a monetary value.

  ‘What did you ask?’

  Robert met her gaze squarely. ‘I asked how much for both.’

  A small sob escaped from Elizabeth's lips and Stephen's head snapped around. Karen stared forward with no reaction. She had known.

  Everyone looked at each other for a moment.