Soul to Take

by Clare Revell

  “On the Guv’s desk. We should have a composite sketch by tonight.”

  Zander raced to the door. “See you later.”

  DS Painter caught him up. “What’s the rush? Desk duty that bad?”

  Zander shut the squad room door. “We’re not staying at mine at the moment. So why did Austin drop Isabel off there?”

  “Maybe she didn’t want Austin to know where she’s living.”

  “Either way, sounds like she’s sick. I need to make sure she’s all right and has her meds. Plus we need to talk away from here.”

  DS Painter nodded. “That’s fine. We’ll take your car.”

  “Hire car. I can’t afford a new one until the insurance comes through. I haven’t had a chance to do anything about it yet.”

  “We still need to take your car rather than a service vehicle.”

  Zander nodded and pulled the keys from his pocket as they reached the car park. “What did you find out?”

  DS Painter got in the car. “You were right. The records were changed. It turns out that Chief Superintendent…” He broke off as his phone rang. “DS Painter…yes, Guv. Now? OK. Bye.” He put the phone away. “Sorry, I have to go. Guv wants me to go and talk to your grandfather and show him photos.”

  “Now?”

  “I’m afraid so.” He undid his belt. “At least you don’t have to do a U-turn and come back. I do have one question. Why would Isabel rescind the PIN against her ex-boyfriend?”

  Zander frowned in confusion. “She hasn’t.”

  “According to the Guv, she has.”

  “She’s terrified of him.” Now Zander was really worried. “We have photographic proof he assaulted her. There is no way she’d get rid of the only thing protecting her short of locking the creep up. Can you ask the Guv to take one out again ASAP? I really need to get over there and check she’s all right.” Zander scribbled on a piece of paper. "Gramps is here. The Guv doesn't know that, and I prefer to keep it that way for the time being."”

  DS Painter nodded. “Sure.” He got out of the car.

  Zander didn’t wait. As soon as the door was shut, he drove across to the gate and onto the main road. He drove as fast as he legally could to the hotel. He swung into the space and ran inside and up to their rooms. There was no answer from Isabel, so he unlocked his door and went across the room to the connecting door. Fortunately it wasn’t locked.

  The room was in darkness. Isabel lay curled up on the bed, deeply asleep. Zander didn’t like to wake her. Instead he left a note and crept out, closing the connecting door.

  His phone rang. “DS Ellery.”

  “Zander, I need you back here now to start re-interviewing all of the relatives. See if you can get confirmation of this cop some of the victims were dating. DS Philips has already started. Where are you anyway? You’re on desk duty.”

  “Give me ten minutes and I’ll be there. I had to check on Isabel. Austin said he dropped her at my place with a headache.” He hung up. Before he reached the car, the phone beeped again. A message from DS Painter. Zander checked the screen.

  be careful. csc is not who he says he is. will give you more when i get back from visiting family. sorry, had to take pb with me. will look after him ’til i get back.

  Zander read between the lines understanding perfectly what was meant by the coded message.

  ~*~

  Isabel woke slowly, the headache she’d been expecting not there. She lay still, trying to piece together what had happened. One minute she’d been sipping juice whilst Austin and the Chief Super were chatting over pie and mash and a pint. She’d given up reminding them they were on duty and shouldn’t be drinking at all.

  Next thing she knew, she’d been really dizzy, nauseous, and her head had been pounding fit to burst. At least, she’d managed to persuade Austin to take her to Zander’s home. She wasn’t that far out of it that she’d slip and give him the address of the safe house. Somehow, she’d managed to walk back to the hotel and lie down before the headache totally incapacitated her.

  But now there was no trace of it. She hadn’t taken the meds, so she should still have the pounding headache, flashing lights, nausea, and everything else that accompanied a migraine. But there was nothing. Simply a little wooziness as if she’d slept too long. A glance at her phone told her she hadn’t. It was seven-thirty in the evening. Barely five hours since she’d returned to the hotel and literally crawled into bed. But if it wasn’t a migraine, what was it that had incapacitated her so fast and so completely?

  Isabel rose and changed into something more comfortable than her work suit. She grabbed her room key, phone, and the only cash she had, and slid them into her jeans pocket. Maybe a walk would clear her mind.

  Not wanting to bump into anyone and be forced to start a conversation, Isabel headed down the back stairs. The practical part of her mind niggled that she should tell Zander where she was going, but the still woozy part insisted she’d only be a few minutes, and he’d never know she was gone.

  Outside the air was hot and muggy, and despite the faint breeze, decidedly humid. Dark clouds built on the horizon as if there were a storm coming. However, they were a long way off and there was no guarantee any storm would come this way.

  She’d walk across the park the short distance to the inn and find some food. Maybe sit by the river and eat whilst watching the ducks on the water. Her mind finally began to clear as she walked, the fresh air doing wonders.

  The juice she’d drank at lunch had tasted strange, but she’d assumed the Chief Super hadn’t bought her usual brand. She hadn’t wanted to say anything as he was paying, and she’d already made her feelings perfectly clear.

  Austin hadn’t given her a chance to leave. She’d tried heading for the ladies as soon as they’d arrived, but he must have guessed what she was planning and instead steered her into a booth and sat beside her, trapping her against the wall. They’d even ordered for her. A tall glass of cloudy apple juice. It was nice, but…

  Wait. Could they have drugged her drink? Her memories of actually leaving the pub, the meal itself, and walking to the hotel were scattered at best. Had a woman joined them or was she now totally confused?

  Reaching the inn, she ordered a bag of crisps and a can of soda. She sat at the bar, not wanting to risk the food going out of her sight. Not that anyone could tamper with a sealed can or packet. Especially when she could see them pick one at random from right in front of her.

  She opened the can and sipped it. No, there hadn’t been a woman with them. Isabel was remembering the woman from the CCTV footage the bank had given them. Opening the crisps, she ate. She’d seen the woman before that, she knew she had, if only she could remember where. And where did Upper Tidmarsh figure into the equation?

  Isabel ran her fingers down the can, making patterns in the condensation on the sides. The crisp fell from her fingers, bouncing off the bar. The Chief Super said he and his wife lived in Upper Tidmarsh. He’d shown her a photograph of them standing by that monument thing Austin had driven past on the way to the chemist. She pulled her phone from her pocket, but the phone was still dead. She’d meant to charge it up but had totally forgotten in her befuddled state earlier.

  She needed to get back to the hotel and talk to Zander. Because the woman in that photo, the not-wife of the Chief Super, was the woman from the CCTV in the bank. The one who’d pretended to be her and closed her account. They lived where the hemlock came from. All the girls knew or dated a cop. One with access to the files that had gone missing, to the evidence locker. All the murders were within a five-mile radius of something—

  But it all led to her. She had to be the next target because she knew too much now.

  She closed her eyes as another wave of dizziness hit her full on. Her mind fuzzed as she headed to the door. Zander could make sense of it all, assuming she remembered what it was she needed to tell him. Why had she gone out? She had to find Zander.

  A black cab sat at the taxi rank outside the inn. Sh
e climbed into the back. “Elmhurst Lodge,” she managed. She closed her eyes as the cab began to move.

  “Isabel…” A voice from somewhere spoke her name.

  She opened her eyes to find a pair of very familiar eyes staring at her from the front of the cab, and then everything went dark.

  14

  Unable to get an answer from Isabel just after 7:00 AM, Zander tried the connecting door. To his surprise and consternation, it was locked. Should he break it down? Probably best not to if she were sleeping off the migraine. The last one she’d had, she had slept twenty-four hours straight, and hadn’t appreciated being woken up. They’d be fortunate if she were fit for work by Monday. He prayed that she was all right.

  Zander grabbed the hotel notepaper and scribbled a note. Is, hope you’re feeling better when you wake. I assume you locked the door accidently. I was tempted for an instant to break it down, but the Guv said not to break anything and I’m trying to behave today. Plus, I’d then have to pay the hotel damages. Give me a bell when you wake. Zander xx. PS. Sorry. Force of habit. No kisses. You’re not that kind of a partner.

  He slid the note under her door and headed towards the hotel entrance, ready for another exciting day of desk duty. His breathing was easier, but he was obeying doctor’s orders and not removing the brace until instructed.

  Skipping breakfast, he drove to work. Once there, he stopped by the canteen and grabbed a bacon roll and coffee, intending to eat at his desk. He wanted to study the incident board whilst the room was quiet. Isabel’s desk, as always, was a disaster area. It honestly looked like a pyroclastic cloud of mail had just erupted all over it. He took a bite of his bap and laid it on his desk.

  Zander went around to Isabel’s desk and picked up the mountain of cardboard folders. He leafed through each one before locking them in his bottom drawer for safekeeping, in between bites of his food. A brown A5 envelope lay inside the last folder. There was nothing else. He flipped it over. Black printed writing blared up at him.

  His breakfast lay heavy in his stomach, the grease turning sour on his tongue and repeating as bile in his throat. Clattering echoed around him as the other members of the unit piled into the squad room.

  “Morning,” DI Holmes said way too cheerfully.

  Zander didn’t move. He gazed down at the envelope. “Morning.” He sighed. Oh, well, his prints were on the envelope now anyway. Too late for gloves.

  “What’s that?” DI Holmes asked.

  Zander dropped the folder to the desk. “It was in amongst a load of files on Isabel’s desk.” He ripped it open and tipped out a postcard. Blank on one side. He turned it over. “It says, see you soon.”

  He raised his gaze to the incident board. He read the list of names slowly. Iona Kevane, Sally Rollin, Ashlyn Orkney, Brit Yardley, Esther Leaney, Lexi Eke, Yasmin Bowery, Orla Arkwright, Rosa Shipman, Kacie Ingalls.

  A chill ran down his spine and he shook, dropping the postcard to the desk.

  “Zander? Did someone walk over your grave?”

  “Not mine.” He walked numbly over to the board and picked up a pen. Slowly he rewrote all the names of the victims, so they covered one line instead of two. Then taking the red pen he rewrote all the capital letters.

  Silence fell. The board now spelled Isabel York in both directions.

  I-S-A-B-E-L-Y-O-R-K.

  Zander swallowed several times, trying not to give in to the urge to throw up. How could he not have seen this before? “Isabel was right,” he managed. “We should have listened to her.”

  “Where is she?” DI Holmes demanded.

  “There was no reply from her this morning. I assumed she’s still sleeping off the migraine. I tried checking, but the connecting door was locked, and you’d told me not to break anything.”

  “Where’s Austin? He was the last person to see her.”

  Zander knew he was technically the last one to see Isabel, as he’d checked on her yesterday afternoon, but he wouldn’t say as much. “No idea.”

  DI Holmes pulled out his phone. He frowned. “Voice mail from Isabel. Don’t remember hearing it ring.”

  “Guv it’s me. Call me if you don’t see me before you get this message. It’s urgent.”

  Zander’s stomach twisted further as he grabbed his phone. “I’m calling her.” He should have broken down the door, checked on her last night before he fell asleep, even slept on her floor. The knowledge he’d been right, and the answer had been staring them in the face all this time was no comfort.

  ~*~

  Duct tape bound her wrists and mouth as Isabel struggled to open her eyes. Her head thumped. She lay still in the tiny space, trying to piece together what happened. Last thing she remembered was the taxi and a pair of eyes. Why couldn’t she think straight? It was almost as if her mind was wrapped in tendrils of wispy, yet thick, suffocating fog.

  At least she didn’t suffer from claustrophobia. Because the space she was in wasn’t big enough to stretch out in, even if she wasn’t bound. Think, woman. She was in a small, dark space and moving. A car boot, and not voluntarily, as no one in their right mind would agree to that. Plus she was taped up.

  Why couldn’t she remember?

  The stench of petrol, bleach, and car exhaust made her lightheaded. Bile rose and for a moment she thought she would choke. Somehow, she raised her arms and pulled the duct tape from her mouth just in time.

  The car came to a halt and she froze, listening for any clues as to the identity of her captor or where she was. She had to break free and get away. She’d only get the one chance, and out in the open, as soon as possible, was the best plan.

  Car doors slammed. Doors, plural. That meant at least two people, not the one. That would make it twice as hard, but she wasn’t going down without a fight.

  Footsteps crunched on the ground. Gravel, maybe. Or leaves? No, at least two months early for fallen leaves. Muffled voices spoke. Not clear enough for her to make out what they were saying, but both sounded like men. She didn’t need to hear them to know that what they were planning for her wouldn’t be good.

  The boot lid opened.

  She blinked hard in the bright light, which blinded her for an instant.

  Two figures in masks leaned over and reached for her.

  “Time to pay for your sins, dear.”

  Fear sparked as she recognised the voice. She twisted hard as he lifted her from the car. He snarled as she vomited on his hands and he let go.

  Isabel kicked him, and then ran towards the woods, making the most of what could be the only chance she’d have.

  ~*~

  Zander shook his head, the uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach overtaking him completely. He dropped the phone to the desk. “No answer from mobile or landline. I’m going over there.” Which is what he should have done in the first place, not faffed about calling her.

  “Dane, go with him,” DI Holmes said. “She could just be sleeping.”

  “I should have broken the door down or got the spare key from reception. But when Austin said she had a migraine, I thought I ought to let her sleep.” Zander glanced around. “Where is Austin?”

  “I have no idea,” Will said. “He’s not answering his phone either.”

  “OK. Will, get over to his place and check on him.”

  Zander shook his head. “You know he’s been pushing the whole Zander is the Slayer thing from the start, way before the evidence started to fit me. We know we have a leak on the inside. Austin’s been the ringleader in dumping stuff into Isabel’s in-tray.”

  “We can worry about that later. Right now I have two missing officers and we need to find them.” DI Holmes looked at him. “Run.”

  Taking him literally, Zander ran from the room, DS Philips close behind him. He wondered what he’d done to be landed with the Guv’s partner but didn’t have the time nor inclination to worry about that now. All that mattered was Isabel and making sure she was just in bed and ignoring her phone. And she wasn’t missing or worse.
>
  “I’ll drive. You call ahead and warn the hotel so they’re ready with all the keys when we get there.”

  “OK.” Zander dialled as they ran down the stairs.

  “Elmhurst Lodge. Jan Wilkinson speaking.”

  “Jan, it’s Zander. I’m on my way now. I’ll need the keys to Isabel’s room and the key to the connecting door.”

  “The connecting door doesn’t lock. That’s why I gave you those two rooms.”

  “Trust me. It was locked this morning when I tried it.”

  “Do you want me to go and check myself?” she asked.

  “No!” Zander yelled. Then he lowered his voice. “No. A colleague and myself will be there in five minutes. Just have those keys ready.”

  Heavy traffic and an RTC at the crossroads meant it took a lot longer than five minutes. Zander wished once more that service cars came with blue lights fitted as standard. But that was only on TV shows. In reality it was only unmarked traffic cars that had blue lights in the radiator grill.

  Finally, they reached the hotel.

  Zander leapt from the car before the engine was even stilled. He ran inside to find Jan at the desk. “Keys.”

  She held them out. “Need me to come with you?”

  He shook his head, running for the stairs. Taking them two at a time he sped toward Isabel’s room. He unlocked it. “Isabel?”

  The room was dark, but a chink in the curtains showed a motionless figure lying in the bed, covers up to the neck.

  He dashed across the room. “Is, wake up.” He reached out and turned the figure over. Chills gripped him. It was a mannequin.

  DS Philips opened the curtains.

  “We’re too late,” Zander groaned. “I should have come in this morning and not assumed…”

  “Austin said she was sick.”

  “Austin is missing. For all we know he’s the one who took her and is just covering his back.” Zander strode to the connecting door and tried the key. “It’s jammed. We need SOCO over here. Now.”

  “Hey, calm down.”

  Zander shook in fear and anger and guilt. “How am I meant to do that? Isabel is missing.”