A long time seemed to elapse before the van drew to a halt. Geraldine heard several male voices, although she could not make out anything they said. A moment later, the door creaked open. Through the fabric of her hood she was faintly aware of light outside, as rough hands grabbed her upper arms and dragged her out of the van and on to her feet. Her legs felt stiff, her hip ached from where she had fallen on it, and her head throbbed. One of her wrists was smarting, but she could not tell whether she had hurt herself in attempting to escape her shackles or if she had sustained an injury when she fell. More than anything, she struggled not to break down in tears. A faint breeze fluttered across the backs of her hands as, blind and terrified, she was dragged across rough ground. After a few seconds, the smell inside the hood grew ranker, and the slight breeze she had felt on her hands vanished, while the sound of several feet on the ground altered from a dull thudding to a sharper clacking and she realised they must be indoors. They had not climbed any steps so were on the ground floor. Behind her a door clanged loudly. She guessed they were in a garage or a storage container of some sort.
She tried not to cry out as she was suddenly shoved down on to a chair, her ankles were secured, and the hood was tugged off her head. Blinking in the sudden onslaught of light, she struggled to remain calm. She knew she ought to memorise as much about her environment as she could, and tried to dismiss the possibility that she might never have an opportunity to describe the location to her colleagues. After the terrifying darkness to which she had been subjected, the brightness of a naked bulb suspended from the ceiling seemed to pierce her eyeballs; it cast long shadows across the grimy floor. As her eyes grew accustomed to the light she saw that she was seated in a large, empty brick shed of some description. The windows had been painted over and the metal door was shut. Somewhere in the distance she could hear whirring, but she was unable to determine whether the sound came from machinery or traffic. That was the kind of detail which could result in identifying her abductors’ hideout, if she ever escaped. Endeavouring to memorise her environment helped her to control her panic. At least she felt as though she was able to do something, however futile it might be. The place stank of mildew. It could have been a large garage anywhere in the country. But she had no idea how far they had travelled, and was unable to see the time to estimate how long she had been locked in the van, speeding along the streets. She could have been anywhere in the country. Despair threatened to overwhelm her as she realised the futility of any attempt to work out where she was being held.
‘Is she wired?’ a hoarse voice called out.
Nervously, Geraldine turned her attention to her captors. The man who had spoken was seated in front of her, his eyes blazing at her through holes in a black balaclava.
‘I don’t think so,’ another man answered, in a slightly higher rasping tone.
The second man was standing behind her, out of her line of vision.
‘I’m not wired,’ she replied loudly. ‘Why would I be? It’s not as if you sent me advance notice you were going to attack me. Or do you think I routinely wear a wire in case someone decides to kidnap me?’
She was pleased to hear that her voice sounded confident and strong, the very opposite of how she was feeling. However difficult it was, she knew she had to force herself to join in their conversation; the longer they discussed her as though she was not present, the easier it would be for them to objectify her.
‘Why would I be wearing a wire?’ she repeated earnestly. ‘I was going to work when your gorillas grabbed me. Do you think I wear a wire at the police station?’
It would not do any harm to remind them that she was a police officer. It was even possible they were unaware of her identity and might think twice about assaulting her, once they knew who she was.
‘Are you sure?’ the seated man asked his companion, as though she had not spoken.
‘The only way to be sure is if we get her to strip,’ the other man responded with a deep throated laugh.
He stepped forward from the shadows, and she was not surprised to see that he too was wearing a balaclava. Their facelessness, combined with their casual verbal exchange, was chilling, as was their continued conversation about her as though she was not a sentient human being. She struggled to commit the sound of their voices to memory, although she was aware it was hopeless. She would never be able to identify them just from hearing them speak. In any case, she suspected they were disguising their voices because they both sounded curiously hoarse.
‘Who are you?’ she demanded, speaking as forcefully as she could.
‘Take off her shirt,’ the seated man said.
He continued to ignore her when she spoke, in what she realised must be a deliberate ploy to unnerve her. He seemed to be in charge. Resolutely, Geraldine stared at him. His age was difficult to judge without seeing his face, but he was sturdily built, and he spoke with an air of authority. All she could observe of him was that his eyes were dark. The second man was slimmer and more excitable, and he appeared younger than the seated man. His eyes were lighter, blue or hazel in the strange light of the single bulb. He stepped forward and tore her shirt open. Several buttons ripped off and bounced on the floor. The young man studied her body, grinning, before feeling carefully down her legs, checking her ankles and removing her shoes.
‘Who are you?’ Geraldine asked. ‘Tell me what you want.’
She addressed her question to the seated man, doing her best to ignore the man who was manhandling her.
‘She’s not wired,’ the younger of the two men announced, stepping away from her at last.
‘Who are you?’ Geraldine repeated, barely managing to control her voice.
‘We know who you are,’ the seated man replied. ‘And that’s all that matters.’
15
Zoe had been missing for nearly two days, and the police did not seem to be making any attempt to find her. Someone from the school called to say they were contacting social services about Zoe’s continued unauthorised absence.
‘Please do,’ Bella snapped. ‘We told you she’s missing and we’ve reported it to the police. The more people there are looking for Zoe, the better. So please, tell everyone you like.’ She slammed the phone down and turned to John. ‘We need to look for her ourselves. Anything could have happened to her. She could have been knocked down, or assaulted, or – or anything…’ Bella said, her blue eyes stretched wide with concern. ‘Why haven’t the police found her yet?’
A plump blonde police officer called Susan was acting as their family liaison officer.
‘We’re doing everything we can,’ Susan reassured her. ‘A team is talking to all of Bella’s friends from school and one of them may well know where she’s gone.’
‘She’s probably perfectly fine, and just visiting a friend,’ John replied, a trifle impatiently. ‘Listen, Bella, I know you’re going out of your mind with worry. Believe me, so am I. But there’s nothing we can do. We have to let the police do their job.’
Bella lowered her voice and gestured to John to follow her into the kitchen so that Susan could not hear them talking.
‘The police aren’t doing anything. We can’t just sit around and do nothing. I’m going to speak to Laura when she gets home from school. She might know where Zoe’s gone. They were inseparable before Laura started going out with that boy.’
‘How is Laura supposed to know where she is?’
‘If she can’t tell us where Zoe is, at least she’ll know who Zoe’s friends are now, won’t she? They’re supposed to be best friends. Or they were.’
John gazed at his wife, frowning. ‘I can’t see what we can do that the police aren’t already doing.’ He paused on seeing the resentment in his wife’s expression. ‘Well, if you think it will help,’ he conceded. ‘Would you like me to come with you?’
Bella shook her head. ‘One of us should stay here, in case –’
‘But where is she?’
John couldn’t answer.
Laura’s mother looked surprised to see Bella standing at the door.
‘We’re looking for Zoe,’ Bella said, without a greeting or any other preamble.
‘Zoe? She’s not here.’
‘Can I speak to Laura?’ Bella asked.
‘Laura?’
‘Yes, only you see – we don’t know where Zoe is, and we thought – we were hoping Laura might know,’ Bella stammered.
Laura’s mother frowned. ‘I don’t see –’ she began.
‘Please,’ Bella interrupted her urgently. ‘We don’t know who else to ask. She’s been gone since Tuesday night.’
‘Tuesday?’ Laura’s mother looked shocked. ‘And you don’t know where she is?’
Bella shook her head.
‘You should report it to the police.’
‘We’ve been to the police and they’ve said they’re looking for her, but so far they’ve drawn a blank.’
‘They can track her phone, can’t they?’
‘She left her phone at home.’
Laura’s mother frowned. ‘Wait here.’
She disappeared into the house and Bella heard her yelling to Laura to come downstairs. A moment later Laura appeared, looking sullen. Her expression barely altered when she heard the reason for Bella’s call.
‘I’ve no idea where she is,’ she replied promptly. ‘How should I know? I haven’t seen her for ages. She was at school on Monday, I think, and she’s been off ever since. No, she was there on Tuesday because it’s PE on Tuesday and she was definitely there, but she wasn’t in yesterday or today.’ She shrugged her thin shoulders. ‘I thought she was ill or something. She didn’t say anything to me about bunking off.’
‘Bunking off?’ Laura’s mother repeated, sounding vexed. ‘This is more than just bunking off school, Laura. Zoe’s disappeared and her parents are very worried that something might have happened to her. It’s no joke, her going off like this without telling anyone where she’s gone.’ She stared closely at her daughter. ‘Are you quite sure you don’t know anything about this?’
Laura glared at her mother. ‘I said so, didn’t I? Why can’t you believe anything I say? Do you really think I would lie to you about something like this?’ She turned to look at Bella. ‘If I knew where Zoe was, I’d tell you, but I don’t know where she’s gone, so there’s nothing more I can say.’
‘I’m sure she’ll come home when she’s ready,’ Laura’s mother said helplessly. ‘I hope she doesn’t stay away too long. They have no idea how much we worry about them.’
With a sniff, Laura turned away and they heard her feet pounding up the stairs.
‘I’m sorry,’ Laura’s mother said. ‘I’m sure Laura doesn’t mean to be rude. Teenagers aren’t easy, are they?’
With a sigh, Bella turned away. She had more important matters on her mind than Laura’s manners. There was no word from Zoe, and that evening they had another visit from their family liaison officer. Susan sat down with Bella and went through everything the police had so far done to find her daughter. It didn’t seem to amount to much, and Zoe was still missing. Bella explained that she had gone to see Zoe’s friend, Laura, who had known only that Zoe had been absent from school that week.
‘And the school have been on to us to say they’re going to involve social services to investigate Zoe’s absence,’ she added with a scowl.
Susan shook her head and said a team would be visiting the school to speak to Zoe’s classmates. Bella nodded. Laura knew about it, and by the next morning all of Zoe’s classmates would be aware that she had run away from home.
‘The more people we can speak to who knew Zoe, the greater the chance that we’ll find her without any further delay,’ Susan said.
‘What are the chances that she’s…’ Bella began but broke off in tears, unable to complete the sentence.
Susan gave a reassuring smile. ‘The likelihood is that we’ll find her alive and well and staying with a friend,’ she said. ‘It’s encouraging that she packed a bag. That shows she intended to run away. If she had disappeared unexpectedly on her way home from school, for example, it might suggest that she’d met with an accident, or been abducted. But from what you told us, she left home deliberately, and presumably she had a plan in mind. Now, can we go over exactly what she said to you on the evening before she left home, and everything she took with her? Please don’t leave anything out.’
‘Is there any point in going over it all again?’ Bella asked.
‘We won’t know until we finish.’
16
Aware that her captors were doing everything they could to intimidate her, Geraldine told herself that if they intended to kill her they would have done so already. She tried not to give way to panic when the hood was pulled over her head again, and she heard footsteps retreating. A few seconds later, a metal door clanged shut. She was alive, and her injuries were relatively minor, but the silence was terrifying.
‘Hello?’ she called out. ‘Hello? Are you there? Is anyone there?’ Her voice sounded oddly muffled inside the dark hood. ‘Hello? Are you still there? Is anyone there? We need to talk.’ No one answered. ‘I may be able to help you. Tell me what you want.’
It was not clear whether she was alone, or in the presence of a taciturn guard. She tried to stand up but her legs were tied to the chair. If she tipped her seat over, she might be able to release her legs, but she had no way of knowing whether there was a bar preventing her from slipping her shackles off the legs of the chair. Besides, without being able to move her arms, she might injure her head if she succeeded in rocking the chair violently enough to make it fall over. On balance, she decided it was not worth the risk. Not yet at any rate. It took all her powers of mental control not to cry as she contemplated her predicament. Doing her best to ignore her physical discomfort, she focused on the rescue operation that was doubtless already under way. By now Ian would have noticed her absence and a search would be in place. Reassuring herself that she would soon be found, she did her best to wait patiently.
A very long time seemed to elapse before she heard footsteps approaching. Her momentary flicker of hope was extinguished as soon as her hood was removed and she saw the older of her two captors standing in front of her, staring at her through the holes in his balaclava.
‘What do you want?’ she asked. ‘I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what you want.’
‘A friend sent us to question you,’ he replied quietly, in his oddly hoarse voice.
From the way the skin around his eyes creased, Geraldine had the impression he was smiling.
‘A friend? What friend? What are you talking about?’ All at once, a wave of anger swept through her. ‘Whatever you want, you won’t get it, and if you kill me, you’ll be killing a police officer. Do you really think you can get away with that?’
The man spoke so softly she had to strain to hear the words. ‘You have a sister living in Hackney.’
As she listened, Geraldine’s fortitude deserted her and she stared at the speaker, no longer making any attempt to conceal her apprehension.
Relentlessly the voice continued. ‘She’s teetering on the edge. Once an addict… well, you know how it ends.’ Once again she had the impression the speaker was smiling. ‘We’ve left her alone, for now. It would be so easy to slip a needle in her arm.’
As he spoke, he mimed injecting himself. Without seeing his facial expression, his guttural laughter sounded strange, as though he was choking.
‘What do you want from me?’ she repeated in a hollow voice.
‘We heard you would do anything to save your sister from, well, people like us.’
‘What do you want?’ she repeated, her
voice shaking.
Behind her, Geraldine heard someone stir and guessed that the younger man had also returned. It sounded as though he was spitting on the floor.
‘What do we want?’ the older man asked. ‘You know what we want.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘You know what I mean.’
‘I’ve no idea what you’re talking about. If you’re planning to do away with me, just get it over with,’ she blustered. ‘But you’d be throwing your own lives away along with mine, because my colleagues will hunt you down if you kill me. And it would all be for nothing. I don’t know anything that could possibly be useful to you.’
‘You’re a police officer.’
‘I’m just a detective sergeant. I don’t have any influence, and I don’t know anything.’
‘You’re a police officer. You know enough.’
‘You’re making a mistake. You have nothing to gain by bringing me here.’
She hoped it was not obvious she was terrified they might torture her.
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