No Way Home

by Jack Slater

  With Ben speaking quietly into his smartphone at his shoulder, Pete took out his own phone and hit a speed-dial number. ‘Jane,’ he said when it was picked up. ‘Get onto the aunt and uncle, will you? Emphasise that we need to speak to Tanya urgently and they should contact us as soon as they hear from her or see her.’

  ‘OK. You got something? You sound like you’re in a hurry.’

  ‘She’s in town. Last seen going into Castle Street with five hundred quid in her purse. While you’re on with them, ask if they know any of her friends, get any contact details you can and follow them up.’

  ‘Right. See you later.’ She rang off.

  Pete would call her parents himself, but he wanted to do that from the squad room.

  *

  Back at his desk, while Ben got onto social media and started searching for Tanya’s friends, Pete opened his notebook and reached for the phone.

  The line had not even finished its first ring when the phone at the other end was snatched up.

  ‘Hello?’

  ‘Mr Cunliffe? This is DS Gayle from Exeter CID. I’m calling about your daughter, Tanya.’ He heard a gasp on the other end. ‘Have you seen her or heard from her today?’

  ‘Umm… Why? What’s the problem?’

  ‘We’re still trying to reach her. I gather one of my colleagues spoke to you last night about this. We need to talk to her urgently.’

  ‘DS Gayle, you said?’

  ‘That’s right. Peter.’

  ‘We’ve been trying to reach her as well. I told your colleague she was here yesterday. She left in a bit of a state and we haven’t been able to get hold of her since.’

  ‘A bit of a state?’ He already knew this from Ben, but the man might say something more if he let him.

  ‘Well, she was sick. Threw up. She blamed it on a bad Indian the night before, but she seemed OK when she got here: sat out on the patio with us, chatting and looking at the local paper. Had a cup of tea. Then, all of a sudden, she muttered something and ran indoors, heaving.’

  ‘These things can come on quickly, can’t they?’

  ‘That certainly did. She hadn’t said anything. Didn’t even look peeky. Just “Oh, God”, and off she went. When she came back, she said she’d go home, but we haven’t been able to get hold of her since.’

  ‘Have you tried her friends? Other family members? She might have changed her mind, decided she’d be better with someone than on her own.’

  ‘I thought of that, but there’s only Nancy and Derek, family-wise, and I don’t really have much idea of who her friends are these days.’

  ‘OK. Well, we’ll keep you posted if we track her down. Can I ask you to do the same for us?’

  ‘Of course. I suppose you can’t tell me anything about why you want to talk to her?’

  Pete blew out air as if reluctant. ‘Have you seen anything about these taxi driver deaths in the city? Or did Tanya mention them?’

  ‘Only what’s… Funnily enough, that’s what we were talking about when she got sick yesterday. There was a bit in the paper about the last one. Bloody shame, eh? To have his daughter raped at fourteen, then, barely two years later, this happens. His poor wife must be in a right state. The girl too.’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘But Tanya was only just saying she didn’t know about that when she rushed off to the bathroom, so how can she help you?’

  That gave Pete pause. ‘She didn’t know about what?’

  ‘I don’t know. She just said something like “Oh, God. I didn’t know that”, didn’t finish what she was saying – just took off with her hand to her mouth.’

  ‘I see. Right, well, I’ll talk to you soon, hopefully.’

  ‘Yes. Thank you.’

  Pete ended the call and looked across at Ben. ‘Anything?’

  *

  Tanya’s social media presence was limited to Facebook and an old Twitter account she hadn’t used for several months. She had only a handful of Facebook friends and her homepage showed that the one she corresponded most with was a work colleague, the girl whose account had given them their original break in the case: Emma Radcliffe.

  Pete looked her up.

  Her address was towards the top end of Pennsylvania Road, in one of the side roads that led off to the east, a short way up from the murder scene at the end of Argyll Road. Pete thought about where Tanya lived, off Cowley Bridge Road. Had she been on her way across to Emma’s that night?

  But she had her own car. Why take a taxi? Unless… He couldn’t imagine that someone capable of murder would worry about driving with a dodgy tyre or two, so perhaps she hadn’t been in the taxi. She could have been following it, seen the attack take place. The physical evidence from the back of the taxi confirmed that an attack – or at least a sexual encounter – had taken place in there, although that same evidence left a large question mark over the presence of the condom on the front seat. Had he intended to use it, then given up on the idea in the heat of the moment?

  Irrelevant. Focus, he thought. The important point here was Emma’s potential proximity and therefore her possible involvement – although, how she would connect to the other two cases, he had no idea. Still, one thing at a time. While they were at the solicitors’ earlier, he had picked up a card. He took it out now and laid it beside his keyboard, picked up the phone and dialled the number on it.

  ‘Good morning. Hamilton, Bayliss and Cunningham. How can I help?’

  Pete recognised the voice of the receptionist. ‘Kerry, this is DS Gayle. I need to speak to Emma Radcliffe, please.’

  ‘One moment, please.’ No hesitation, completely professional, he noted.

  The line switched to a buzzing ringtone and was picked up again on the second ring. ‘Mr Cunningham’s office. How can I help?’

  ‘Is that Emma?’

  ‘Yes. Who’s this?’

  ‘My name’s DS Gayle. I’m with Exeter CID. I’ve been trying to track down a friend of yours and I wondered if you might be able to help.’

  ‘I see.’ Her tone had become more cautious. Reticent. ‘Which friend are you looking for?’

  ‘Tanya. Tanya Cunliffe.’

  ‘She’s not in this morning. I… I’d have thought she’d be at home, though she hasn’t phoned either, so I couldn’t say for sure.’

  ‘Well, I’m afraid I can. And she’s not at home. Have you got any other thoughts on where she might have gone?’

  ‘Um… No. She’s not exactly a party girl. If she’s not at home, then…’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘I’m afraid I’m at a loss, Detective.’

  ‘OK.’ He paused, letting her relax. ‘And you haven’t seen her over the weekend?’

  ‘Um…’ She hesitated, her brain clearly working, trying to decide what to say.

  ‘It doesn’t put you in any trouble if you have, Miss Radcliffe,’ he said. ‘I’m just trying to figure out where she might have gone, that’s all.’

  ‘But… well… yes. She stayed with me last night. She’d come home from her parents feeling ill, thinking she’d be better off at home, but then she decided she wanted company. Or at least that’s what she told me. I left her at home this morning. She said she was still poorly, wanted to stay in bed a while longer. I told Mr Cunningham when I came in this morning.’

  ‘Is it him she works for?’

  ‘She’s the office junior. She works for all the partners – whoever needs her at the time. Why?’

  ‘Because I thought one of the partners was looking for her this morning. Tall, thin gent in tweeds.’

  ‘That’s Mr Hamilton, the senior partner. I thought Mr Cunningham wold have passed it on. Obviously not. He does get absent-minded sometimes, when he’s engrossed in a case. I’d better do it myself, before she gets in trouble, hadn’t I?’

  ‘Right. Thanks for your time, Miss Radcliffe.’

  ‘Goodbye, Detective.’

  Somehow, I don’t think it’s goodbye, Pete thought as he put the phone down. I
think I might be talking to you again, Emma Radcliffe.

  He stood up and plucked his jacket from the back of his chair. ‘I’m off out for a bit, Ben. Keep trying on the Facebook thing and let me know if you find anything.’

  ‘Right, boss.’

  *

  An hour later, Pete was back at his desk and no further forward. He had been up to Emma Radcliffe’s flat. It had been easy to find, looking out over the road and down the hill towards the city centre. But there had been no one there. A neighbour had told him that the red-haired girl had left about half an hour after Emma. She’d seen her walking away towards Pennsylvania Road.

  He’d seen a bus stop a little further down as he was driving up so, presumably, she had used it to get into town, where she’d gone to the bank. Why she hadn’t used the cashpoint at the Co-op on Union Street, just a couple of hundred yards from the flat, he had no idea, but she had chosen not to. Or maybe she didn’t know it was there.

  ‘Any joy, boss?’ Ben asked as he sat down.

  Pete grimaced and shook his head. ‘Might as well call the others back in if she hasn’t shown up yet. You found anything?’

  ‘Nothing useful. I’ve checked with everyone I could while you were out, but no one’s seen her.’

  ‘OK, get hold of the others and bring them in.’

  ‘Will do.’ Ben picked up his phone and began to dial as Pete logged into his computer.

  Emma Radcliffe, he thought, unable to shake off the proximity of the first attack site to her flat. Who is she?

  A work colleague of Tanya Cunliffe: he knew that much, but no more. And yet, he had a feeling he should. He logged onto the Internet and looked up Hamilton, Bayliss and Cunningham. Their About Us page included a series of staff photos with names and job titles underneath. Emma Radcliffe was listed as a legal secretary, aged twenty-eight. She was an attractive girl with long, dark hair and a smile that seemed to light up her face. Pete closed the website and logged into the PNC, inputting the details he had for her. There were no matches. Not unexpected. He looked next for her census records. No matches.

  ‘Huh?’

  He tried again with the same result. Then he checked the DVLA. She had a driving licence, issued in 2012. Change of address? Maybe. Next, he sought out a mobile phone account. Again, it was set up in 2012. He got onto the local council site to check for poll tax records. She had moved into the flat in 2013. Before that, she had been renting a place in the student quarter, not far from Tanya Cunliffe’s place, for just short of a year. And before that… nothing.

  ‘What the hell?’

  So, where was she before 2012? This looked extremely odd. He sighed. ‘Oh, well.’ There was only one thing for it. He had her address now, plus her mobile and landline numbers. He’d have to go and see her. And the sooner, the better. He picked up the phone and raised it to Ben, who was talking to Dave. ‘I’ll call Jane.’

  She picked up on the second ring. ‘DC Bennett.’

  ‘Jane, it’s me. Call it off and come back in, the pair of you. I think she’s done a runner. Meet me in the car park out the back here, soon as you can. We’re going back out.’

  ‘OK. We’re on the way.’

  *

  Pete filled Jane in on the situation as they walked down Heavitree Road towards the Western Way roundabout.

  There was no point taking the car: it wasn’t far and they weren’t intending to arrest anyone.

  Crossing the ring road, they walked up the hill towards the Civic Centre, the pavement wide and open, dotted with young trees that were just breaking into leaf. The air was cool, but the sky was a clear blue, the sun bright.

  ‘So, what are you thinking?’ Jane asked as they passed the big, modern building – one of many that had been constructed after large parts of the city centre were destroyed by German bombs in the Second World War.

  ‘I don’t know,’ he admitted. ‘But it’s suspicious. And when you combine it with how close she lives to the attack site and the fact that she works with our main suspect, I’m inclined to insist on some answers.’

  ‘Ooh. So, am I coming along as the required token female or to keep you in line then?’

  Pete looked sideways at her. ‘Have you been talking to Naz?’

  ‘No. Why? What would she tell me if I did? You haven’t been following in Dave’s footsteps, have you?’

  On the far side of the road, they were passing the end of the street where Neil Sanderson, who they had arrested and charged with possession and distribution of indecent images of minors – specifically and chiefly, his own daughter – last November, had worked.

  ‘Not at all,’ he said. ‘I was just a bit more stern than she approved of in dealing with Mrs Singh after I found out she’d been covering up for her husband.’

  ‘Tut, tut. Bad boss.’ She waggled a finger at him in mock reprimand as she turned the corner and led the way down Southernhay East, past the yoga centre.

  A couple of minutes later, they turned into the old building that housed the solicitors’ office. Pete held the door for her and they stepped in. The receptionist looked up, a professional smile starting to appear.

  ‘Hello again, Kerry. This is DC Bennett. We need a word with Emma Radcliffe, if you could either point us in her direction or get her down here for us.’

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  Emma took them along a narrow corridor towards the back of the old building, where a conference room allowed them privacy. They sat around a large table that overlooked a small flagstone garden.

  Leaning forward, Emma steepled her fingers then laid her hands flat on the polished wood. She sat back in her chair, moved to cross her arms, but then stopped herself. Finally, focusing on Pete, she asked, ‘So, what’s all this about, Detective?’

  He leaned forward, notebook and pen at hand on the table. ‘As I said earlier, we’re trying to find your colleague, Tanya Cunliffe. I know you told me earlier you don’t know where she is. But towards that end, we need your help to corroborate a couple of things.’

  She frowned slightly, sitting up primly. ‘All right.’

  ‘First of all, where were you before 2012?’

  She blinked. Her hands disappeared from the table to grip her knees as the rest of her body went completely still. ‘What do you mean, Detective?’

  Pete allowed a trace of a smile to widen his lips. ‘You know exactly what I mean, Miss Radcliffe. If that’s your name.’

  Her gaze flicked across to Jane and back.

  ‘You can trust DC Bennett. I do. Completely.’

  ‘And what about you, Detective Sergeant?’

  Pete smiled.

  ‘With DS Gayle’s reputation and his clean-up rate, he could have been a DI long ago, miss,’ Jane said. ‘I’ve worked with him for several years now and it’s my belief that the reason he isn’t is because he doesn’t back down and he doesn’t give up.’ She glanced across at him. ‘Even when he should sometimes.’

  Pete tipped his head in an appreciative shrug but said nothing, waiting for the young woman to make her mind up.

  After what seemed like a long silence, she sighed. ‘Very well. I need your phones, radios, whatever, switched off and on the table.’

  ‘OK.’ Pete took out his phone, switched it off and set it on the big, highly polished table. Jane followed suit, then added her chest radio. They sat back, waiting.

  Emma looked from one to the other and back again. ‘What I’m going to tell you does not leave this room, agreed?’

  ‘Agreed,’ Pete nodded.

  ‘OK,’ said Jane.

  Emma’s jaw clenched. Her arms stiffened as her hands squeezed her knees. Her eyes closed briefly. Then she opened them and took a breath. ‘When I was a child, I was in care. My parents were killed in a car accident. I was around four at the time. Well, a few years later, the home was taken over by a new person. There were lots of changes of staff. Eventually, things settled down and then… Well, the abuse began. Rumours started among the children. At first, most didn�
��t believe them. But gradually, more found out the truth – the hard way. I was a bit of an ugly duckling, so I avoided it all until I was twelve. Then… Well, to cut a long story short, nothing was done about it officially until an enquiry was started in 2011, long after I’d left. But when I heard they were seeking witnesses, I stepped forward. I was one of twenty-seven victims who ended up testifying. But threats were made. In one or two cases, they were carried out. A witness died. Another disappeared. The rest of us were protected from then on – closed court, remote testifying and all the rest – but afterwards, those of us who could were advised to move away and change all our details, cut ourselves off from our old lives.’

  She shrugged. ‘It wasn’t as if I had any family to cut myself off from, so, with the help of the Crown Prosecution Service and some branch of the police in London, I ended up with a new identity, in a new city, miles from anywhere and anyone I’d known before.’ She let out a heavy sigh. ‘So, what do you need from me with regard to this case of yours?’

  ‘Can you give us an account of your movements on Tuesday evening of this week, between the hours of eight and eleven?’

  She frowned.

  The rest of her body had gone completely still.

  ‘Tuesday evening?’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘I worked late. We had a big case in court on Wednesday. I didn’t leave until after nine.’

  Pete waited for more, but it wasn’t coming. ‘And after that?’

  ‘I went home.’

  ‘Did anyone see you? Did you talk to anyone? Make a phone call? Go online? Anything else that’s traceable?’

  She was shaking her head. ‘No. I came in, showered, had a drink and went to bed. Alone.’

  ‘OK. And between leaving work and getting back here: what can you tell us about that period?’

  Her eyes narrowed. The frown returned to her brow. ‘What do you mean, Detective?’

  Pete’s lips pressed together as he tired of playing with her. ‘What can you tell me about the death of a taxi driver near the junction of Argyll and Pennsylvania Roads between nine-thirty and ten-thirty that night?’