‘Perfect for transporting pallets, tools, and eighteen-year-old girls you’ve snatched off the street,’ Saunders said. Freddie’s stomach flipped. Had Lottie been forced into the back of Liam’s van? Shaken around in the back, bumped and bruised, no windows, no idea where she was being taken. Had she hammered against the side, desperate for help?
‘He’s there.’ Chips waved his phone. ‘One of the local CID constables lives two roads down. He was off duty – popped over pretending he was collecting for charity. Our Liam told him to eff off. The DC’s at a car garage down from his now, waiting for back-up. Liam hasn’t left the house. And he thinks there’s someone in the upstairs bedroom. He saw shadows moving.’
Suddenly they were all on their feet. Saunders pulled on his blazer: ‘He’d have had time to get her out from Greenwich. Straight onto the A12, then the North Circular. It’d be what, an hour’s drive, give or take, that time of the morning. I’ll take my car. Cudmore, you can ride with me. I like someone to hold my drink while I’m driving.’ He clapped her on the back. Nasreen looked less than thrilled.
‘What about me?’ Freddie didn’t want to be left behind with the missing girl’s brother. A dude she hadn’t met, who might be about to find out what had happened to his sister. No, thanks. Too stressful.
‘You can stay here and keep going through those printouts.’ Saunders flicked his hand dismissively.
‘You’d leave me on my own? In the office. With all this top-secret police stuff?’ she said.
He pulled his wallet from his back pocket, lip curled, and checked his warrant card. ‘You’re not coming in my car. You can stay in Green’s – going through that lot.’ He tapped the papers she was holding. ‘Make yourself useful.’
Freddie looked at the printouts. ‘What if someone else is helping Liam?’
Nas pulled her jacket aside, checking her telescopic baton was in its holster. ‘Why’d you ask that?’
‘Look.’ She held out the highlighted excerpt from the Apollyon conversation on Are You Awake.
‘More Apollyon references,’ Nasreen frowned. It kept coming back to him.
‘He’s talking to Liam about it,’ Freddie said.
‘Sick fucks like sick fucks,’ Saunders shrugged.
‘There’s more, I haven’t had time to go through it all yet.’ I can teach you the tricks of the master. Bring these bitches to heel. They sounded like sinister promises. What was still to come? She shivered as she picked up the other pages from the desk, skim reading them. ‘Here – look. Apollyon’s Revenge says he’ll send Liam instructions on how to “unlock the treasure trove of other people’s computers”.’ She pointed at the post.
‘Does he mean instructions to hack?’ Nas asked.
Freddie flicked forward. ‘The first image of Chloe – the one where you can see her nipple – was posted by Liam not long after.’
Green grimaced. ‘Nice guy.’ Nice guy, indeed. Freddie thought of the internet slang that described men who hung out with women, pretending to be their friend and then getting angry when they didn’t get the sex they felt entitled to for being a nice guy.
Nasreen was still looking at the printouts. ‘I think we should ask Liam about the Are You Awake poster calling himself Apollyon’s Revenge. See if he knows who he is in real life.’ Nas was marking the side of the sheet with indents of her nail.
Freddie skipped forwards a few pages. ‘Shit. It gets worse.’ She shuddered. ‘Here Apollyon’s Revenge says he has a special present for Liam. Next post from Liam is Chloe’s phone number and home address.’ She held the page up. ‘Bastard gave him the details to dox her!’ Green looked disgusted.
‘Quit squawking like bloody mother hens,’ Saunders snapped. ‘And let’s get up there.’
‘Oh goody: road trip,’ Freddie said. ‘I’ve only just escaped suburbia and you’re taking me back.’
‘With a bit of luck we’ll be leaving you there,’ he said, heading for the door. She caught Nas trying to suppress a smile and mouthed traitor at her. She’d forgotten how good it was to talk to other people. Even if they were psycho cops.
Chips opened his desk drawer, moving the mountain of crap inside until he found a half-eaten packet of mints, the silver foil a curled apostrophe. He dropped them into his pocket. ‘Doubt we’ll have time for afternoon tea on the way.’
Saunders was outside the door. ‘Move it, people.’
Freddie grabbed her rucksack from the floor, stuffing the papers and a couple of pens inside.
They packed into the lift like the worst game of sardines ever. Saunders’s solid arm was pressed against her shoulder. He was a fan of citrus aftershave. It made her thirsty. He scowled. ‘Cudmore, I want you to put a call in to Morris and the team at Greenwich. Tell them what we’ve got and get them to do some digging on this Apollyon’s Revenge guy. We know the tech lads won’t be able to lift anything from Are You Awake but get them to see if the same name crops up elsewhere.’
‘Sir.’
The car park was cold, and smelt faintly of petrol. Nas and Saunders headed in one direction, and Freddie trudged behind Green in the other, Chips beside her. ‘Do you think Liam has her?’ she asked.
‘Possibly,’ he said, as Green unlocked the car they’d driven down in.
This could be it. Liam’s posts about both Chloe and Lottie were sexually explicit. She felt sick at the thought of what that might mean.
Chips paused, the front passenger door open. ‘You okay in the back?’
‘Sure.’ She pulled the door open and scrambled in. He was all right – for a cop.
‘You know how DI Saunders drives?’ Chips said to Green.
‘Fast, sir.’
That’ll be great for Nas’s travel sickness.
‘Aye. I think this warrants the lights.’
Green smiled and flicked them on. The siren started up and they sped away from Westminster, hurrying towards Watford and what they might find there. Freddie thought of Lottie, trapped somewhere against her will. Was she shouting for help? Trying to escape? Her fingers scraping against a wall, a door, a floor. They wove between cars and buses, Green expertly navigating the masses of vehicles that seemed to stand between them and Lottie. She’d seen Apollyon’s name: Freddie knew every second counted.
Chapter 25
Wednesday 16 March
18:55
T – 14 hrs 35 mins
The siren was switched off before they reached St Albans Road. A row of 1930s semis, painted white and dotted with satellite dishes, were set on a slip road, back from a large grass oblong roundabout. The last of the rush hour thundered past on the thoroughfare. The streetlights from the roundabout and nearby petrol station provided plenty of light. Was there a back entrance? It’d be hard to get someone inside the house unseen, unless the busy comings and goings of the main road prevented any one event from standing out. They pulled into an adjacent car dealership, large stickers on the car bonnets advertising the prices. A bald guy wearing jeans and a North Face jacket waved them over. Saunders and Nas were already parked up and waiting. Chips wound the window down. The bald guy came over, followed by Nas, who had her hands in her coat pockets and her collar turned up against the biting wind. The sky was heavy with grey clouds, merging into night. Saunders, apparently impervious to the cold, bounced over to join them. He was hyper. From nerves or excitement?
‘DS Ahmed, sir,’ the bald guy introduced himself through the window. ‘We spoke on the phone.’
Chips shook his hand. ‘Any more sightings of the suspect?’
‘We’ve got two officers round the back. There’s been no comings or goings,’ DS Ahmed said.
‘What about that figure you saw upstairs – is it our girl?’ Chips said.
Freddie crossed her fingers. She was shaking from the cold wind that was billowing into the car – at least she thought it was from that. ‘Nothing conclusive,’ DS Ahmed said. He had a nice face, shiny and creased, like he smiled a lot.
‘How d’you want to do th
is, Pete? I don’t fancy dragging him all the way down that road to the car if he’s difficult.’ Chips indicated the row of houses that stretched away from them, on the other side of a Chinese takeaway.
‘We’ll drive down,’ said Saunders. ‘Green can go round the back, Cudmore down the side passage, me and you can knock.’ Freddie assumed she was to stay in the car. ‘Sergeant,’ he said to Ahmed. ‘You got a van for this arse?’
‘Round the back where it dropped the boys off, sir,’ Ahmed smiled. ‘I’ll radio them to follow you round.’
‘Good man.’ Saunders tapped the roof of the car. ‘Now get out, Green, I’m driving.’ PC Green obediently got into the back, followed by Nas. The police van was waiting by the slip road, just out of sight of the houses. The car was hot, and Freddie could hear PC Green breathing, see her chest rising and falling quickly. Nas drummed her gloved fingers on her knee, sitting bolt upright. It must be a rush of adrenaline doing this. Though it was making her feel queasy. Saunders accelerated, pulling the car swiftly onto the slip road and stopping outside number 103. Wordlessly they opened the doors at once, and closed them quietly. PC Green went past the house and disappeared down the side alley of the semi two doors down, to join the others out the back. Light flickered at the downstairs bay window: the television was on. There were heavy curtains at the upstairs window, and she couldn’t see through them. Freddie lowered her window a fraction; the noise from the passing road and the swirl of the wind filled the car. She wanted to hear what was happening. The police van was still waiting, out of sight, behind them. Nas, her coat billowing behind her, walked quickly with Saunders and Chips to the front of the house. At a nod from Saunders she headed down the side path as the two male officers reached the front door. Freddie reminded herself that Nas had her baton. Though that didn’t feel like much. The guy could have a knife. Or maybe even a gun, if he’d managed to snatch Lottie?
There was a pause, a collective intake of breath to allow everyone to get into position, and then Saunders rapped on the door. The flickering light in the lounge stilled: live pause. A shape approached the patterned glass door, making a Picasso out of whoever was behind it. A young guy with dark, stringy hair, wearing a long sleeved t-shirt and jeans, opened it. His eyes widened at the sight of Saunders and Chips in their suits. They were obviously cops. He slammed the door shut. ‘Runner!’ Saunders shouted. A radio in the car crackled to life, Chips echoing his sentence, making her jump. ‘Don’t be an idiot, Liam!’ Saunders shouted, kicking open the door. Instinctively Freddie got out of the car. Saunders and Chips barrelled into the house. The curtains next door twitched. ‘Liam Schofield,’ Saunders’s voice carried from inside. ‘You are wanted in relation to … Shit!’
‘Don’t run lad, you’ll only make it worse!’ Chips boomed. Freddie’s heart was racing. The police van revved behind her, squealing to a stop as a uniformed officer jumped out and ran into the house.
There was a crash from inside. Breaking glass. Splintering wood. Yells. ‘Green, he’s headed your way. He’s got a baseball bat,’ the radio screamed. A blur that could have been Nas shot past the open front door.
‘Stop!’ Green’s voice was further away. Feet on wood. A thump onto concrete. ‘He’s gone over the fence!’
More sounds of scrabbling feet on wood.
Liam burst out the side alley, the baseball bat pumping like a piston as he ran straight at her.
Freddie saw the keys in the ignition. She tried to let go of the handle. To run. To do anything. But she was frozen in front of the car.
Saunders charged out the house, but Liam was already level with the semi next door. Nothing would stop him from taking the car. He swung the baseball bat back. Freddie braced for the blow. It was happening again. Blood.
Nas, her black coat a cape behind her, her legs long, streaked from the neighbour’s passageway and jumped for him. Liam slammed into the side of the car, and went down like Jenga. The baseball bat bounced with an aluminium ping. Nas pinned him under her knee, wrenching her handcuffs from her belt. Blew her hair off her face. ‘Liam Schofield, I’m arresting you for attempted assault of a police officer …’
Freddie looked at Saunders, open-mouthed. ‘He took a swing at Green. And missed. He’s going to have to repair the fence though.’
Freddie looked down: she was completely untouched. Nas had stopped him.
‘Great job, Cudmore.’ Chips arrived, swiftly followed by Green and the uniformed coppers. Three great, hulking guys in bulky stab vests. Nas pulled Liam to his feet and shouldered him forwards. Freddie finally let go of the car door handle, and stood aside as a wincing Liam was escorted into the waiting van. Freddie shook her head in disbelief. Timid little Nasreen Cudmore, who used to hide in the toilets during break time and cry if people called her names, had grown up to be a certified badass.
Chapter 26
Wednesday 16 March
19:20
T – 14 hrs 10 mins
‘I can’t believe it’s on a road called Shady Lane!’ Freddie laughed.
‘What?’ Nasreen took her eyes off the prison van carrying Liam, and glanced at the Georgian, yellow-brick Watford police station. It had the traditional blue police lamp suspended over the entrance. ‘Oh right. Yeah.’
As she got out of the car, she kept the van in her sights. Lottie hadn’t been at Liam’s house. The person they’d seen at the upstairs window turned out to be his father.
‘You going to let me out?’ Freddie tapped on the window. Without taking her eyes from the van, Nasreen opened the back door. She couldn’t believe it. Couldn’t believe he would be so stupid. So selfish. Anger bubbled under her skin.
‘I’ll go park up,’ Green called.
‘Bet you’re pleased to be out of Saunders’s car,’ Freddie whispered.
Stiffening, she saw Chips drop down from the back of the van, helping the handcuffed Liam behind him. The suspect’s hair fell over his sallow face like a drab curtain. ‘Why don’t you wait inside?’
Freddie didn’t move, watching as Liam tripped over his Converse trainers as the bigger of the two constables escorted him past them and up the steps into the station.
Nasreen walked to Chips, her heel clicks quickening in indignation. It violated protocol. ‘Why did you travel in the van with the suspect?’
Chips held his hands up in mock surrender. ‘Whoa, lassie. I haven’t had my coffee yet, shall we get in out of the cold?’
You don’t get to patronise me now. ‘I saw you get in the cage with him. You put something in front of the camera.’ She was aware Freddie was standing behind them.
‘If debris obscures the camera it’s not my fault.’ Chips’s voice shifted and his words became cold. Hard. ‘May I remind you I’m your senior officer, Sergeant.’
She wouldn’t be intimidated. ‘Did you touch the suspect? Sir.’
‘Enough.’ Chips grabbed her arm roughly and pulled her away from the station.
‘Let go of me.’ She shook him off.
‘Hey!’ Freddie ran towards them.
Nasreen thrust her finger into his chest. Her ears burned hot. It was outrageous. ‘If he files a complaint the whole case could be thrown out!’
‘Calm down, Cudmore,’ Chips hissed, looking around to see if anyone could hear them.
‘Don’t tell me to calm down. I have every right to report you to the DCI.’ She couldn’t believe he’d put her in this position. Couldn’t believe he was that kind of cop. Regardless of what Liam had done, might have done, Chips couldn’t just do whatever the hell he liked. ‘Why’d you go in the cage? No one but the suspect should be in there.’ With her heels back on she just had the height advantage over Chips.
Chips lowered his voice. ‘We are not alone. Remember your pal is listening to every word of this.’
If this got out it could threaten the CPS case against Liam. Dammit, she should have forced Freddie to go inside. ‘Freddie, I need you to not repeat this conversation.’ What if she took up reporting again? ‘You
can’t write about this. Even later, okay?’
‘In case you hadn’t noticed I’ve not got much journalism on at the moment,’ said Freddie, looking uneasily between them.
‘You have my word I didn’t lay a finger on the lad,’ Chips said. Nasreen watched his face for telltale signs of lying. He looked genuine. Maybe.
Freddie cut in. ‘I would’ve put the baseball bat in the back of the van. Taken a picture of his tiny dick and sent it to all his man-baby mates.’
Chips burst into laughter. ‘I like this one, Cudmore. Can we keep her?’
She refused to smile. ‘Did you threaten or assault the suspect, sir?’
‘Jack Burgone is more than just my boss, lass.’ Chips leant closer to her, his voice low, friendly, like he was explaining the meal options in the canteen. ‘He’s my mate. I just wanted a quiet word with the lad to find out where the guv’s sister is.’
Her pulse quickened, despite herself. ‘What did he say?’
The click of brogues on concrete behind them interrupted Chips’s reply. Saunders’s voice boomed. ‘Can we stop with the mothers’ meeting and get on with this?’
‘Course lad.’ Chips beamed and walked towards him.
Rage fired Nasreen after them, up the concrete steps into the station’s reception. Plastic chairs lined the back wall. Posters advertising the dangers of drink driving hung in Perspex frames on the walls. Two male uniformed PCs looked up with fascination from behind the desk. Until she could be one hundred per cent sure what had happened in that van, she had to keep Chips out the way. ‘I want to be in on the interview.’
Saunders stopped and looked first at Chips and then her in surprise.
She needed to be in that room. She wanted to find out what she could, properly. Legally. ‘We’ve seen his posts online. I would guess he’s not massively used to talking to real women. I can use that.’ She could do this. She could help.
Watch Me Page 15
