by Neil White
‘It wasn’t Ronnie Bagley who attacked us,’ Sam said. ‘Because whoever attacked Charlotte wasn’t a him. It was a her.’
Sixty-Two
Joe ran to his mother’s house without locking his car. The street was quiet, just the vague outlines of some kids hovering at the end of the street, and his mother spotlit on her step, a lone sentry, clutching a tissue.
‘Joe, you’re here,’ she said as he got closer. She looked like she wanted to be hugged, looking up at him, expectant, but Joe bristled. He hadn’t hugged his mother since that afternoon when Ellie was murdered.
‘Talk to me, what’s happened?’ he said as he went inside, his mother behind him, shuffling slowly. He could smell the booze on her.
‘She didn’t come home from school,’ she said, tears coming now. There was a slur to her voice. He checked his watch. Nine o’clock. It was around the time the day got blurred for her.
‘Are you sure you haven’t just forgotten something, that she told you she was going to a friend’s house?’
‘Why would I forget?’
Joe marched through to the kitchen and picked up the bottle of vodka. It was a small one, as if it was some kind of disguise, hiding the problem, because Joe knew there would be more small bottles in other cupboards. ‘This?’
‘Don’t shout at me, Joe,’ she said, and then turned away to sit down on a chair in the other room. Her head went into her hands, and Joe felt the hot stab of guilt.
But he didn’t apologise. Instead he ran upstairs, into Ruby’s room.
It had been a while since he was last in there – he left the whole family thing to Sam – and her room was more grown up than he remembered. There were hair products lying on their sides on the floor, and her clothes spilled out of drawers. Joe noticed a cigarette lighter on a desk by the window. He rummaged for cigarette papers with strips torn from the boxes, to be used as roaches for joints, a hint of drug problems, but there weren’t any. At least she had avoided that route so far.
There were pictures of film stars around the walls, although Ruby went for the old ones. A young Marlon Brando on a bike, James Dean leaning against a barn. Just nostalgic cliché shots. He turned on her computer and, as he waited for it to boot up, he looked around the room. It seemed like he didn’t really know her, as if she had grown up without him noticing. He realised that he didn’t know anything about her. Where she went. Who her friends were.
He went to the stairs and shouted down, ‘What time does she normally get in?’
A pause, and then a tear-filled shout of, ‘Depends. Sometimes after six. But never this late.’
‘And where does she go?’
‘Just to see school friends. She doesn’t really say.’
Joe clenched his jaw and went back to Ruby’s room. How had they come to this? Some pretence of family life, with birthday cakes and collective mourning, when in reality it was broken, so that everyone just lived in their own bubble.
The computer had finished its whirr and chatter and so Joe went to the internet. He went to her browser history and saw the entry for her social networking site. He clicked on it and let it load.
Pictures of Ruby flashed onto the screen and he saw a girl he hardly recognised. Flirtatious, grown up. He went to the messages, looking for something that would give him a hint. It was worse than that. There were messages asking where she had gone, because her friends hadn’t heard from her that evening. It was Thursday night, the build up to the weekend.
Joe typed some responses, explaining who he was, and wanting to know if anyone knew if she had anything planned. He paced the room for a few minutes until he saw the screen change. There had been a reply from one of her friends. No. Evythg ok?
He rubbed his face with his hand. He realised then that everything really wasn’t okay.
Joe looked around again, for any hint that made it more sinister. Her phone wasn’t there, so he guessed she had planned to be out, but then she had been to school, so perhaps she always had it with her.
He saw a photograph on the small dresser near her bed, propped up against her radio-alarm. A young man, a teenager, good-looking.
He went to the stairs again. ‘Does Ruby have a boyfriend?’
A pause, and then, ‘She hasn’t said anything.’
‘Okay,’ he said, and then went back into her bedroom. He went to Ruby’s list of friends, looking for the person in the photograph. He scrolled down her list, wondering how she could know so many people, until near the bottom, he found him.
Joe clicked on his profile. It was the same picture. He looked at his page, and it struck him that there were only a small number of friends. Seven. He knew how the networking sites worked, that once you started, people dragged you in, and soon your page was filled by people you hardly knew. Friends of friends of friends.
He scanned the personal information. Billy Bridge. Likes football and music and fun. Doesn’t like authority and being told what to do. Just a normal young man.
Except he didn’t seem like a normal young man. There was something not right about it. There were no posts on his personal page, hardly any friends, and no real information.
He tried calling Sam. He had been with Ruby the night before, when he thought she was being followed. It rang out. When it went to voicemail, he left a message. ‘Sam, it’s me. Call me. It’s urgent. We don’t know where Ruby is.’
When he clicked off and the room returned to silence, he felt the darkness descend, and the memory of that day fifteen years earlier rushed at him once more.
Sixty-Three
Sam couldn’t see Alice as he walked up the path to his front door. The drive was empty, his car still near Terry Day’s house, where he and Charlotte had left it.
He went into the kitchen and saw a beer bottle on the side, only half-drunk. He opened the fridge. The wine had been opened, although he couldn’t see the glass.
Sam looked for a glass for himself, and as he poured himself a drink, he heard footsteps on the stairs.
Alice walked in, her glass in her hand, and Sam saw that she had been crying. ‘Are you all right?’ he said.
She came towards him, and so he held out his good arm, the hand holding the glass. ‘No hugs, please,’ he said, grimacing.
She took his hand and kissed it instead. ‘The girls are at my parents’ tonight. I don’t want them to see you like this.’
‘It won’t have gone by tomorrow so they’ll have to get used to it.’
‘It’s not just that, because I can’t protect them from what might happen to you.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I used to worry about you when you were patrolling. But then you were doing the financial cases and so it seemed safe. You’re doing this now and so I’ll go back to wondering whether I’ll get a phone call one night to say that you’re never coming home. People die doing your job. I can’t cope with that thought.’
‘It’s what I am,’ he said. ‘I can’t change that.’
Alice went to the fridge to refill her glass, then stared into her wine for a few seconds before saying, ‘So it was a false alarm about Ruby?’
Sam faltered as he raised his glass. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Well, you’re here, so it must be all right.’
‘What are you talking about?’ He put the glass down.
‘Ruby,’ she said. ‘Joe was trying to call you.’
Sam was confused, but then he remembered. ‘I turned my phone off when I went into hospital.’ He reached into his pocket and pulled it out, turning it on.
‘So you don’t know?’ Alice said, and as Sam shook his head, she put her hand to her mouth.
His phone buzzed. Voicemail. He listened. It was Joe. He didn’t call often. Then what he said made his hand tremble.
‘Sam, it’s me. Call me. It’s urgent. We don’t know where Ruby is.’
He clicked off his phone and headed back out into the night.
Ruby looked over at the man in the driver’s seat. Bil
ly’s dad, so he said. She didn’t like the way he kept leering at her, looking at her hair, then at her legs. She wished she’d worn trousers.
‘Where is Billy?’ she said. She knew she sounded sulky, but they had been waiting a long time, the delay broken only by a fast food meal.
He glanced over. She drew her knees together and folded her arms. He made her uncomfortable. Her fingers played with the door handle, but it was locked. He must have heard her do it because he said, ‘He won’t be long. His gym class must have overrun.’ He smiled. ‘He’ll make it up to you.’
She didn’t believe him anymore. Something wasn’t right. She was in the middle of Manchester to meet someone she had only ever talked to on the computer, and it was getting dark.
But she was being paranoid. She had seen Billy’s pictures, his history. No, everything was all right. Billy just needed to get there.
It wasn’t a nice place to sit though. The van smelled of old cigarettes and sweat. Billy’s dad was smoking again. She wanted to open her window to let some air in, but he had refused when she’d asked. So she had to put up with the smell of his cigarettes seeping into her clothes and hair.
She glanced across. He looked dirty. His eyes looked tired, surrounded by dark rings. He had strange markings on his hand, like small lines tattooed at the end of his thumb. Six of them.
The thought of Billy kept her there though. They had shared so much. Her secrets, her thoughts, her desires, and he had shared his own. They had been building to this, she knew that, although it had come quicker than she expected. She was excited but nervous, impatient and restless. She didn’t want to leave the van. It looked threatening outside, with the orange streetlights lighting the shiny redbrick of the viaduct arches, just the occasional rumble from the railway lines to break the gloom.
Billy’s dad craned forward. There was someone ahead, moving quickly. ‘Almost here,’ he said.
Ruby leaned forward too, closer to the windscreen, relieved now. She almost laughed. She had never met Billy. They had shared internet chats, but never face to face, and so her nervousness turned into excitement, that at last she would meet him.
She could see someone ahead, but he seemed smaller than she expected, his hood up, face hidden, the sleeves too long, so that she couldn’t see his face or the broad width of his shoulders.
Billy’s dad flashed his headlights. He seemed more excited now, smiling and nodding.
‘Who is it?’ Ruby said. ‘Is that Billy?’
As the figure reached the van, he wound down the window. ‘Get in the back.’
Ruby craned her neck to get a view, but whoever it was moved too quickly. The back doors opened and there was a clattering noise.
‘Billy?’ she said, turning, grinning, excited. ‘It’s me, Ruby.’
Then Ruby gasped as an arm clamped around her neck. She let out a whimper. ‘I’m not Billy, little darling.’
It was a woman’s voice.
Ruby struggled, kicking out, crying, her feet hitting the glove compartment, scuffing the dull grey plastic.
There was a glint of metal and then she felt the tip of a knife blade pressed against her neck, just below her ear, pushing into her skin so that it puckered under the point.
‘If I cut you there, you will die straight away,’ the woman said. ‘Do you want that?’
Ruby stopped moving and swallowed. ‘I’m scared,’ she said. ‘I don’t understand. Where’s Billy?’
‘You don’t need to understand. This is it. Perhaps the end. It all turns on your brother now. Does he love you enough?’
‘My brother? What do you mean?’
‘Sam. He’s the one I want. For now, you come with us. Will you do that? Will you come quietly and survive? Because if you struggle, I will kill you. You won’t be the first.’
Ruby took deep breaths as tears welled in her eyes. She thought of Sam. He would be angry with her. She should have listened. She’d got herself in danger and it was all her fault. Now he was in danger.
‘You’re not Billy’s dad, are you?’ Ruby said.
The man laughed. The woman pressed the knife harder.
The man got out of the van and ran round to the passenger side. When he opened the door, he grabbed Ruby round the neck and pulled her upwards, out of the van. She shrieked but the noise was cut short as she was propelled quickly along the pavement, her feet making soft skipping noises on the floor.
The street they were in got darker the further they went, the streetlights broken. She tried to struggle against him but he was too strong. The woman was behind him.
They arrived at some old metal gates, blocked off by steel plates and with razor wire along the top. They couldn’t go any further. She might be able to run, but then he kicked at some corrugated iron next to it and a gap appeared, like a dark gash, just blackness beyond.
‘Go in,’ he said, and he pushed her hard through the small gap. Her leg caught on something sharp and she cried out, but he didn’t stop. Soon they were on the other side and she was being pushed through nettles and grass, stumbling over mounds of rubble, towards a corner where no light reached.
The woman pulled out a telephone and pointed it at Ruby, the flash of the camera making Ruby blink. As she looked at the picture, she said, ‘Take her inside. I’ve got a call to make.’
There was another screech of metal and the dark block of light yielded to a blue glow and the sheen of tiled stairs.
‘Keep going,’ the man said.
Ruby pulled away from him. ‘No, I won’t!’ But then she was struck by something. Her head hurt and she started to fall. When she hit the ground, the noises were fainter, and as she looked upwards, she could see the stars and the gleam of the moon, much brighter than the shadows and rubble of where she had been taken.
As hands grabbed her again, hard and calloused, she said sorry. To her mother, to her father, the man she had never really known, and to her two brothers, who did their best for her. She had got it wrong and spoiled everything.
As she was taken inside wherever she was, the metal sheet was pushed back into place, and all Ruby saw was darkness.
Sixty-Four
Joe looked up at the sound of a car outside. He went to the window. A taxi, and Sam.
Sam burst into the house, despite his bandages. ‘Tell me what you know,’ he said, the worry clear on his face.
‘Ruby hasn’t come home.’
‘Have you called the cops?’
Joe shook his head. ‘Not yet. This is Ruby we’re talking about. I’m just trying to work it all out, so we can convince whoever that it’s not just some silly teenager out too late.’
‘You think this is attention-seeking?’ Sam said.
‘Call it what you like.’
‘Have you called all her friends?’
‘All the ones we know about, but Mum says she doesn’t bring many back here.’ Joe stepped aside as Sam went past. ‘There’s no special skill in trying to find her, Sam. I’ve done all the things you would have done.’
‘So where is she?’
‘I don’t know. I’ve been for a drive round the usual places. The shops. The community centre. Plenty of kids hanging around, but no Ruby.’
Sam stayed silent for a moment, his tension visible from the clench of his jaw. ‘This might be more than attention-seeking,’ he said eventually. ‘She was followed, you know that.’
‘Ruby said she was. That isn’t the same as being followed.’
‘There was someone in the trees.’
‘Or perhaps it was someone running away because you were charging after them?’
Sam didn’t respond to that.
‘I’ve gone through her online accounts, her emails, and there’s nothing that suggests she’s about to do anything stupid,’ Joe said. ‘Is this another go at us? So soon after it was all about Ellie, and you know how she gets around the anniversary, because it isn’t about her anymore. She knows girls are going missing. She might be deliberately making us worry, and she�
��ll come home and be pleased to see us here, her big brothers making her the centre of everything again. How can I ring the police with that possibility?’
‘Because there have been teenage girls going missing for a while now, all connected to Ben Grant’s case,’ Sam said, getting angry. ‘That makes Ruby’s whereabouts pretty damn important. And where’s Ronnie?’
‘I don’t know,’ Joe said. ‘I’ve been looking for him, because our trainee hasn’t turned in today and he hinted that he knew something. He said something else too, that I was supposed to stop him.’
Sam pursed his lips, and Joe could see he was deciding how far he could go.
‘If Ruby is at risk, we share,’ Joe said.
‘I think Ronnie might have been Ben Grant’s accomplice,’ Sam said.
Joe was surprised. ‘Ronnie Bagley?’
‘Grant talked about a hair fetish. It wasn’t his thing, but we think he was taunting us, giving Ronnie away without actually naming him.’
‘Ruby might have a boyfriend,’ Joe said. ‘She could be there.’
‘Do you know that?’
‘No, I don’t. I just saw a picture in her bedroom, propped up against her alarm.’
Sam rushed out of the room, and so Joe followed him, running up the stairs.
As Joe ran into Ruby’s room, Sam was holding the photograph. A good-looking teenager, clean-cut, sitting on his bed, posters around his walls.
‘Yes, that’s it,’ Joe said. ‘Who is it?’
Sam swallowed. ‘It’s not who it is. It’s what it is.’
‘I don’t understand.’
Sam took a deep breath. ‘This is Ronnie’s grooming picture. All of those missing girls – unconnected, apart from the link to Grant’s case, and this picture.’
