The Child Catcher (A DI Erica Swift Thriller Book 4)

by M K Farrar

  She wouldn’t understand.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  It was a scary wait for the Creeper to come back again.

  The meal she’d eaten had sat heavily in her tummy and had given her a stomach ache. She lay on her side, curled up on the bare mattress, her arms wrapped around her middle. Ashley had been quiet, too, and, at some point, she must have fallen asleep, her cheeks wet with salty tears.

  She jerked from oblivion, and for a moment, she couldn’t remember where she was. Everything was dark, and her brain tried to configure her bedroom around her, but it jarred with her reality. Then the smell of the place hit her and catapulted her back into the dark, dank space where she was being kept prisoner.

  “Ellie?” a voice hissed at her. “The Creeper is coming back.”

  She sat up, her heart pounding.

  Sure enough, footsteps came from outside.

  “This is our chance,” Ashley whispered.

  She opened her mouth to say ‘no, it’s too dangerous’, but the clunk of a lock being drawn back made her close her lips, and then the door opened, letting in some light. She sensed Ashley trying to catch her eye to reassure him that she was still in with his part of the plan, but she couldn’t even bring herself to look at him. All she wanted was to curl back up in a ball and cry for her mummy. She’d always tried to be a big girl and make her parents proud of her, but she’d never felt littler than she did in that moment. She was only five—she wasn’t supposed to have to do things like this.

  The Creeper stood in the open doorway, broad shoulders silhouetted against the light.

  “Please,” Ashley said, his voice trembling, “I’ve had an accident, too.”

  He’d emptied water from his bottle onto the front of his jeans, but hopefully that would be enough to make the Creeper believe he’d wet himself.

  The Creeper folded their arms and gave a shake of their head, and a huffed breath of irritation. “Seriously? What is wrong with you both? Can’t you do something as simple as use the bathroom? You’re both too old for this now.”

  “Can I have some clean jeans, please?” Ashely asked, far too politely, considering the situation. “She got clean leggings.”

  Ellie’s cheeks heated in shame at the memory.

  Another huffed breath of air. “Not everything is a competition, you know.”

  “Please,” he was begging now. “It’s been weeks since I had any clean clothes. These ones smell really bad, and now they’re wet, too.”

  “I suppose they could do with changing. I don’t just have them here, though. I’ll have to go out and get you some.” They gave a shake of the head. “I really don’t have time for all of this. I have other things to do.”

  But the Creeper turned and left, pulling the door shut behind them again.

  “When do you think they’ll be back?” she dared hiss over to Ashley.

  “I don’t know. Soon, I hope.”

  She wasn’t sure she wanted that at all. But if Ashley got free, this would all be over soon. She’d be able to see her mummy and daddy and go back home.

  But hadn’t something bad happened? Hadn’t something happened to Mummy?

  No, she didn’t want to think about that. All she knew was there had been screaming and then lots of movement all around her. It had been in the confusion that something had happened, and something had been put over her face. Then she’d woken up here.

  Who had been screaming, though? Why had they been screaming?

  People didn’t scream like that unless it was really, really bad

  Ellie had no choice but to wait.

  Within the hour, the door opened again, and the Creeper returned holding a plastic shopping bag. They’d had the clean leggings and knickers in the house, for some reason, but hadn’t had any jeans that would fit the boy.

  “Here. Hope you’re happy. Don’t make a mess of these.”

  The Creeper approached Ashley and crouched to unhook the cuff from the boy’s ankle.

  Ellie sat up straight, her eyes wide, straining against the gloom. Her heart raced, and her breathing came shallow and fast. Ashley caught her eye over the Creeper’s bent back, and he widened his eyes as well, and gave a tiny nod, trying to tell her it was her time to act.

  Oh no. Oh no. I can’t, I can’t.

  But she had to, or Ashley was going to be really mad at her, and for now, Ashley was the only friend she had, and she didn’t want to lose that friendship.

  What if he runs and doesn’t come back for me? Then I’ll be here all alone...

  But she couldn’t ignore the desperate look in Ashley’s eyes, and the moment the cuff unlocked, she brought back the memory of the screaming she’d heard back in the park, moments before she’d been taken, and she opened her mouth and shrieked.

  The Creeper spun towards her, and Ashley took the moment, leaping to his feet and running for the door. But he wasn’t fast enough.

  A hand shot out and caught his ankle. One second, he was running, and the next he slammed to the floor.

  This time, the scream erupting from Ellie’s throat didn’t need to be faked.

  The Creeper was back on their feet, and this time they had Ashley by the ankle. The Creeper gave a roar of anger and swung Ashley through the air by his leg—the weeks of confinement and sparse food had left him skinny and small for his age. Ashley hit the wall on the other side of the room.

  “You stupid boy,” the Creeper snarled. “You stupid, stupid boy.”

  Ashley slumped to the floor and lay motionless.

  The Creeper turned for the door and then spun back around again. Before leaving, they bent and clicked the cuff back onto Ashley’s ankle, then snatched up the bag containing the new jeans.

  “Don’t think for a second that you’re going to be getting these now after that behaviour.”

  Ellie didn’t think Ashley could hear, but the Creeper didn’t seem to care. Ellie sat, her arms around her knees, making herself as small as possible, and holding her breath, just praying she’d be forgotten about. It seemed she had.

  The Creeper slammed back out of the room, the bag swinging at their side, and yanked the door shut again. The lock cracked into place.

  Ellie burst into tears. “Ashley? Ashley, are you okay? Wake up. Please, wake up.”

  She knew it was selfish, but she didn’t want him to be hurt—or worse—because that would mean she’d be all alone down here. It had been scary enough when she’d had Ashley to talk to, but the thought of not having anyone at all made her insides all fluttery, and she felt light-headed with panic. She’d told him it was a bad idea. She’d told him, and he hadn’t listened, because he was older than her and probably because he was a boy as well. Mummy always told her that men never listened, but she’d say it with a roll of her eyes and a slightly exasperated smile towards Daddy whenever he’d forgotten to do something and insisted that Mummy had never told him about it in the first place.

  “Please, Ashley.” She sobbed. “Wake up.”

  He was dead, and she was all alone down here. Poor Ashley. His mummy and daddy were going to be so sad when he never got to come home. Was the same thing going to happen to her, too?

  But then Ashley gave a moan, and Ellie cried out with joy. He’s not dead!

  “My shoulder really hurts,” he whimpered. “I want my mummy.”

  And then he burst into tears.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Yousef needed to speak to Amma and find out what she’d said to the police. His uncles would want to know if she’d named him, and he wanted to get to her before they did.

  There was a chance she didn’t even remember that he was the one who’d come into the shop and bought a couple of chocolate bars that day, and if that was the case, he didn’t need to worry, but there was also the possibility she remembered the incident perfectly.

  She wasn’t at home, or working at the shop, so he figured he’d try the park. She liked to hang around there with a load of people he didn’t know, and normall
y he’d feel embarrassed and anxious about approaching her in front of all her friends, but right now his desperation to find out what had happened far outweighed any social embarrassment he might feel.

  Sure enough, he found her hanging out with some other girls, and a couple of guys a few years older. They were sitting beneath one of the big oak trees, and they all watched him as he approached.

  “Hey, Amma. Can I talk to you a minute?”

  “Umm, sure, Yousef.”

  Amma glanced around at her friends and hopped to her feet. Yousef jerked his chin to show he wanted her to join him a short distance from her gang. He sensed the derision in the men’s eyes and noted the way the girls giggled and nudged each other with their elbows.

  When they were far enough away, he drew to a halt.

  “So...” she said. “What’s up?”

  “I just wondered if anyone has come to talk to you about something that happened at the shop? The police have been poking around.”

  “Well, yeah. A couple of detectives came to talk to me at the house.”

  He ducked his head, guilt making it unbearable to meet her eye. “What did they say?”

  “They showed me some images from when you’d bought a couple of chocolate bars at the shop and wanted me to identify you. They said they needed to talk to you about that poor woman who was stabbed in the park the other day, and that child who was snatched.”

  “I don’t know anything about that,” he mumbled.

  “Were you in the park that day?” she asked.

  He shrugged one shoulder. “Yeah, might have been, but like I said, I don’t know anything about it.”

  “Don’t worry, I didn’t give them your name or anything. I said I didn’t remember serving the person in the footage.”

  He flicked his gaze up to hers. “Why would you do that?”

  “I know you wouldn’t do anything like that, Yousef. You’re one of the good guys.”

  “Right.” Shame bloomed inside him.

  Amma continued, “And it’s not like you would have been able to tell them anything. I mean, if you’d seen anything that would have helped the police, you would have already gone and told them, wouldn’t you?”

  “Yeah, course.”

  “That girl is only five. Can you imagine being that age and someone stabbing your mum and then kidnapping you? That poor kid. She must be terrified, I mean, if she’s even still alive.”

  “Like I said, I didn’t see anything.”

  “That’s what I thought. I didn’t think you’d want the police having your name on some kind of file, though.”

  He shook his head, but guilt wound through him like cancer. “No, you’re right, I don’t.”

  Amma’s friends were calling over to her, shouting for her to come back. Yousef ignored them.

  “Anyway,” she said, glancing over her shoulder. “I’d better get back to my mates. You can join us, if you like?”

  “Nah, I’m good, thanks. I’ve got stuff to do.”

  “No sweat.”

  He paused and then said, “Hey, Amma. Thanks for not telling them.”

  She shrugged as though to say it was no big deal and then ran back to join her group beneath the tree.

  Yousef stuffed his hands in his pockets and turned away, his heart heavy.

  The child’s face played on his mind.

  It was as though he suddenly found himself trapped between the child and her mother. The mother he’d stabbed and the child who had vanished.

  He hadn’t known she was a mother when he’d picked her. Yes, she’d been sitting near the playground, but she hadn’t had a pram beside her or even a child’s bike or scooter. There was nothing to say the two people were parents. They’d just looked like any other couple hanging out in the park that day. How was he to know their daughter played only a matter of feet away?

  If he’d known, would he have made different choices?

  He tried to tell himself that it didn’t make any difference. They were all the enemy, these Westerners, and the little girl would only grow up to be just like them. She’d never accept Islam into her life.

  So why was it bothering him so much?

  He’d given the detective’s card to Hashem when she’d been asking for his details that day, but he’d memorised its contents before he’d handed it over. DI Swift of the Violent Crime Task Force.

  Was there a way of telling her what he knew without her finding out it was him? If she knew it was him giving her information, then she’d also know he’d been in the park the day of the attack, and she’d be bound to look at him more closely, especially as they now had the link of the shop to the park. They’d realise he’d been the one who’d dropped it. Of course, dropping a receipt didn’t mean he was capable of stabbing someone, and he doubted they’d be able to charge him for the crime on that basis alone, but it might be enough for the police to get a search warrant for the shop and the flat, and then they’d find out everything.

  He couldn’t risk that. Not now. Not when they were so close.

  But maybe there was a way he could pass on the information without her knowing where it had come from? An anonymous phone call, perhaps, or a letter written and sent?

  The phone call might be traced, though, and a letter sent through the post would take too long. Time was running out.

  His mind went over other options of making contact—online, via email, or other messenger apps. Could all those things be traced, though? He didn’t know exactly what kind of tracking software the Met Police had, but he knew he couldn’t take the risk. Even if he went and used a computer in a library, he was sure that would be traced back to him. They’d probably have to take his details before allowing him to use the computer, or they’d have cameras in or around the building that might capture him. There would be no way the police wouldn’t try to track down where the email had come from, considering all the effort they’d gone to just to find the owner of a crappy receipt.

  So, he was back to the letter again.

  Or he just kept his mouth shut...

  And possibly let the girl die.

  He closed his eyes. The image of blood on the pavement, of the woman screaming, the feel of resistance of flesh and skin and muscle as the blade sank deep, filled his head. He shuddered, and a wave of heat rushed over him, his face flaring.

  He’d done that. Him. With his own hands. And now the child might meet an even worse fate.

  And I’m due to do even worse...

  He couldn’t think about that. It was easier to try to figure out a way to right at least a part of the terrible thing he’d done.

  His uncles would be furious if they had any idea what he was thinking. They would say he betrayed them, and betrayed God, and didn’t deserve his place in paradise. Maybe they were right.

  If everything by internet and phone were too easy to trace, and there was no way he was going to go in and speak to the woman detective, face to face, that only left one option. He’d have to go down the old-fashioned route of pen and paper. He’d make sure he wore gloves when he wrote the note, and then he’d have to figure out how to get it into her hands. There were bound to be cameras all over the police office, so he couldn’t deliver it there. What about her car? Maybe he could leave it on her windshield, or better yet, pay some kid to do it for him. That way, even if there were cameras, he wouldn’t be seen leaving the note.

  Yes, that sounded like a better idea.

  Now he had a plan forming, his resolve to try to at least go some way to fixing this horrible mess strengthened him. It wouldn’t make everything right again, but at least he’d have tried.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  With the certainty that Farhad Khadem had lied to them about the CCTV footage, Erica put things in motion to obtain a search warrant from the duty magistrate.

  No matter how fast they worked, she still felt as though time was slipping away. She wasn’t sure if Farhad Khadem had any idea that they knew about his lie, but there was a possibility t
hem speaking to Amma Babou would be enough to get him worried. If he thought there was a chance she’d be able to name the person she’d served that day, he might be doing everything in his power to cover his tracks.

  “We got it!” she declared to Shawn, waving the signed document that gave them permission to conduct the search on the shop.

  “Great,” Shawn said. “We’re going to need backup.”

  “Yes,” she agreed, “I want at least two squad cars and four uniformed officers, as well as ourselves. If there’s something of interest in that shop, we’re going to find it.”

  They returned to the office and went to update DCI Gibbs on the search.

  “Has anyone updated the family recently?” Gibbs asked.

  “Not that I’m aware of. We’ve had our hands full.”

  He nodded. “Once we’ve served the warrant, I’ll send Rudd over to the hospital to let the parents know if we found anything. At least it might give them some hope that we’ve been following some substantial leads.”

  “It’s important the parents know we haven’t given up,” Erica said.

  They put the team of uniformed officers together needed for the search and did a briefing.

  “Everyone ready?” She observed the solemn but eager faces. “Then let’s do this.”

  They moved as one, leaving the office to go to their vehicles. They’d drive in convoy, so each of the cars would arrive at the same time. Shawn had the search warrant case, containing everything they needed, swinging from one hand.

  As Erica approached her car, she slowed her pace.

  A piece of paper was under the windscreen wiper.

  Shawn must have noticed that something was wrong. “Everything all right, Swift?”

  “Someone’s put something on my windscreen.”

  “What like? A flier?”

  It was common to get people leaving fliers to club nights or sofa sales underneath the windscreen wipers of cars, but it was less common for them to be left in a police car park.

  Erica put her hands on her hips and took in her surroundings. Was whoever had left the note here still around, making sure that she picked it up? She didn’t want to walk away from it, just in case someone came along and decided to tamper with it. A couple of her colleagues emerged from the building, nodding, throwing her curious glances.