by Roberta Kray
Bending down, Susan pulled the small suitcase from the bottom of the wardrobe and laid it on the bed. There wasn’t much to pack but she may as well do it now as later. If nothing else it would help pass the time. She cleared the hangers and emptied the only drawer that she had used. She was travelling light, intending to buy new clothes wherever she finally found herself. Where that would be, she had no idea. Making detailed plans was too much like tempting providence; she would only decide when she had the cold hard cash in her hands.
When she was finished with the packing, she left the case on the bed and went downstairs. First she checked on the girl. She had closed the door while the storm was going on and Silver, safely cocooned in the old brick cellar, had thankfully slept through it. She was still sleeping now, curled up beneath the blanket with her face up close to the wall.
Susan went back to the kitchen and switched on the kettle. She knew that she should try to get some rest but still felt too restive, too anxious. These last twenty-four hours were going to be the toughest. By this time tomorrow it would be over but that point still seemed a distant dot on the horizon, the long, empty hours stretching on for ever. There wasn’t even a TV in the house but she did have a radio. She turned it on as she made a cup of tea, keeping the volume low in case it woke Silver.
It was eleven o’clock when the news came on, first the national headlines with their usual gloomy content, then the more local stuff. She was only half listening as a report began about a fire that had taken place at a factory in Shoreditch. It took a moment for the penny to drop, for her to realise it was the same place Marty had taken Vic Delaney to play out their gruesome little game. She frowned. Marty hadn’t mentioned anything about a fire. And just as she was trying to get her head around that, there came the revelation that the body of a woman had been found in the building. Couldn’t these idiots tell the difference between a mannequin in a blonde wig and a real body, Susan thought, when the reporter went on to say that the murdered girl had now been identified as a local prostitute called Kelly Browning. Also known as Destiny, the eighteen-year-old hadn’t been seen since Thursday evening.
Susan sat frozen as the bombshell gradually registered. For a while only the single word ‘murdered’ continued to revolve in her mind. Then suddenly, all the blind denials, the crazy explanations, came crashing and tumbling into her brain. She leapt up and started pacing from one side of the kitchen to the other. No, that couldn’t be right! It must be a mistake. No one had been killed, no body retrieved. Or if they had, it had been nothing to do with Marty Gull. At worst, he had simply left the door to the factory open and the girl had wandered in later, looking for somewhere to sleep or somewhere private to take a punter. Yes, that’s what must have happened. Maybe she had started the fire herself, a careless cigarette thrown on to the ground. Susan stopped and took a few deep breaths. Or hell, maybe Marty had lit the fire, wanting to destroy the evidence, to make sure there was no trail for Delaney to try and follow later. It had just been a horrible accident. There was no way he would have …
But a deepening sense of panic was gathering inside her. She remembered the casual way Marty had dropped the jeans and the T-shirt into the carrier bag. It was only the pretty pink shoes, the Jimmy Choo specials, he had been really interested in; she could still recall the way he had touched them, the way his fingers had gently caressed the long spiky heels. She remembered his brown eyes, fiercely determined and greedy with anticipation. And later, when it was all over, what had been in his eyes then?
But still she refused to believe the worst. She couldn’t accept that he had deliberately used and killed Kelly Browning – the very idea that she had been the girl strapped to the chair, the girl Delaney had thought was his daughter, went beyond her worst nightmares. She tried again to fight against the obvious, making her last big push and final argument: Marty couldn’t have done this, couldn’t be a murderer, because he would have known that the moment it was discovered, the moment she found out about it, she’d be out of here. And when she walked out, the whole deal was over. And if the whole deal was over, everything fell apart – and the money was gone too.
Except, as Susan quickly realised, there was one major flaw to this line of reasoning: it was purely by chance that she had even heard about it. Locked away in the house with no television, no newspapers and no visitors, she was completely adrift from the outside world. This was, perhaps, what Marty had been relying on. He wasn’t even aware of the tiny transistor radio she had nestling behind the kettle.
Suddenly, as if the blinkers had fallen from her eyes, she saw it all clearly. She had been played right from the start. She had been taken for a fool. Marty Gull had skilfully laid his trap and she had walked straight into it. The game that was being played out was not theirs but his.
Susan sat down at the table and dropped her face into her hands. Now she understood, it all seemed so blatantly obvious. ‘No,’ she murmured, ‘Christ, no.’
But she couldn’t escape the facts. Ritchie Naylor, after he had served his purpose, had been conveniently disposed of – she had never really believed that Gabe had been responsible. Now there was yet another victim. Who was next on the list? It didn’t take a genius to work it out. From the moment she picked up the ransom, she would be at his mercy. And God alone knew what plans he had for Silver; she had already seen the pleasure he took in terrifying her.
How, why, had she ever put her trust in him? But she already knew the answer to that: because she had wanted to. Her desperate need for retribution had blinded her to the truth. She had willingly believed everything he had told her, all the rumours and the lies. The defining moment had come with Delaney’s alibi for the night Linda disappeared, an alibi she now realised that hadn’t just saved Delaney from any further investigation by the cops but had put Marty Gull firmly out of the frame too. And that in turn begged the question of what exactly he had been doing that night.
Susan jumped up, her heart pumping. She had to get away. Although there was no need to rush – surely Marty would be sticking like glue to Delaney for the next twenty-four hours – she couldn’t bear to spend a minute longer than she had to in the house. She was about to dash upstairs, to grab her case and flee, when she suddenly had second thoughts. Doing a runner was all very well but what about the girl?
She stood, undecided, in the middle of the kitchen. She was tempted to just leave her. Why not? Tomorrow evening, when she was far enough away, she could call Delaney and tell him where to find his daughter. But somehow that option didn’t sit too comfortably: the chances of Marty Gull turning up in the meantime were slim but it was still a risk she was unprepared to take. The man was crazy, unpredictable. What if he took it into his head to make one last visit before the exchange? He would not only discover that she was gone but that Silver was still here. The poor kid wouldn’t stand a chance. It would be like handing her to him, trussed and bound, to do with as he liked.
Susan drew her lips tightly together. No, even her meagre conscience couldn’t cope with that. She started pacing, walking from the sink to the door, from the door to the sink. Well, she could always shove her in a cab and send her home but that wouldn’t be such a smart move either. The minute she got there Marty would know about it – and would also know he’d been betrayed. How long before he came looking for his treacherous partner in crime? Not long, she suspected, and certainly not long enough for her to be able to put an adequate distance between them. And, unless she could find a way of tipping off Delaney, Silver would be in serious danger too – she’d be walking straight back into Marty’s welcoming arms.
She tried to concentrate, muttering softly to herself. ‘Come on, come on. You have to make a decision.’
While she was still pacing, the little matter of the ransom suddenly raised its head again. At this late stage, it seemed a crying shame to let all that cash slip so easily through her fingers. Running away was all very good but just how far could she run with no money in the bank? If she wanted to c
ome out of this alive and solvent, she was going to have to think of something more useful than a speedy getaway. She needed a plan. She needed to think things through. But not here and certainly not now. It wasn’t sensible to hang around. She needed somewhere safe to hide.
But where?
Her mother’s flat was out of the question. Turning up with a kidnapped teenager would be too much even for her addled brain. And then it suddenly came to her. Susan smiled. There was somewhere she could go and somewhere not so far from here. Perhaps now was as good a time as any to think about renewing an old friendship.
Chapter Fifty-eight
For a moment, as she awoke, Silver seemed perfectly calm but then suddenly sat bolt upright, kicked out her legs and scrabbled back against the wall. ‘What …?’
Susan quickly clamped her hand across her mouth. ‘Shush,’ she ordered. ‘Don’t make a noise.’
A pair of wide scared eyes stared back at her.
‘It’s me,’ Susan said. ‘You know me, don’t you? You know my voice. You don’t need to be afraid. I’m not going to hurt you.’
Very gradually, Silver relaxed.
Susan kept her hand pressed hard against her lips until she was sure that the girl wasn’t going to scream. Then she smiled and sat back. ‘It’s time to go.’
‘I’m … I’m going home?’
‘Yeah, you’re going home, sweetheart, but not right this minute. We’re going somewhere else first, just for a little while. You have to listen carefully to me, okay? This is important. Are you properly awake? Are you listening?’ She waited until Silver gave a tiny nod before continuing. ‘This is what’s going to happen: I’ll take off the chain and then we’ll go upstairs together. My friend’s waiting outside the house and when we leave he’s going to follow us. Please don’t think about doing anything stupid. If you run or scream or draw any kind of attention to yourself, I won’t be able to protect you. Do you understand what I’m saying?’
A flash of fear crossed Silver’s face and she instantly nodded again.
‘Good.’ Susan took the key out of her pocket and held it up. ‘If you do as you’re told, you’ll be perfectly safe. Now, give me your wrist.’
Silver held out her hand.
As she turned the key, Susan automatically braced herself for any sudden movements. But nothing happened. As the chain fell away, all Silver did was to look down and rub at the chafed skin on her wrist.
‘Okay,’ Susan said, taking hold of her elbow and helping her to her feet. ‘It’s time to go.’ She pushed her gently towards the door. ‘You first. And don’t touch anything.’
Silver went up the steps cautiously, constantly glancing over her shoulder, frowning as if she feared this might be some kind of trick. When she reached the kitchen she immediately stopped dead, temporarily dazzled by the brightness of the light.
Susan pushed her forward again. ‘Straight ahead. Go on, quickly, we haven’t got all night.’ Silver’s anxiety was starting to infect her; she could feel the panic returning, a horror that Gull might suddenly turn up on the doorstep.
In the hall, she unzipped the suitcase and took out a pair of high-heeled shoes. ‘Here, put these on.’ If Silver’s placid obedience was all an act, the moment she got outside she might try and make a run for it. The heels would at least slow her down a bit. She picked out a dark hooded top as well. ‘And this. Keep the hood up over your face.’
Susan hesitated before she unlocked the front door. This could all go horribly wrong but what choice did she have? Leaving the kid here just wasn’t an option. Of course there were always the handcuffs they had been intending to use for the move tomorrow night, but if she cuffed the girl’s wrist to her own, she wouldn’t be able to drive and if she cuffed the girl’s hands together someone might notice. No, she would have to rely on good old-fashioned threats.
Squeezing Silver’s arm hard enough to let her know she meant business, Susan stared into her eyes and said: ‘Don’t forget, he’s waiting out there. He’s watching your every move. You understand?’
Silver’s head bobbed up and down again. Her mouth opened and closed but she didn’t say a word. Her throat made a jerky swallowing motion.
‘Right,’ Susan said. ‘This is what you’re going to do. The car is parked directly outside, a pale blue Fiesta. It will take you six or seven steps to reach it and while you’re walking you’re not going to look around, you’re not going to speak, you’re not going to do anything other than get in the back of the goddamn car and lie down. Got it?’
Silver gave her by now familiar nod.
Susan squeezed her arm a little harder. ‘Are you sure?’
‘Y-yeah,’ Silver said, her voice thin and shaky. ‘I get straight in the car and lie down.’
‘Okay,’ Susan said, slowly releasing her hold. She picked up the suitcase, flung her handbag over her shoulder and turned the key in the mortice lock. ‘Let’s go.’
As she stepped outside, pulling the door shut behind them, it occurred to her that it would have been smart to do a recce first. She should have checked that the coast was clear. For all she knew, Marty could be parked up in the street watching the house. She shivered. It was the kind of weird creepy thing he would do.
Following closely behind Silver, her eyes darted rapidly to the left and right. Please God, don’t let him be here. She had only the light from the streetlamps to rely on but the vehicles lining both sides of the short street all appeared to be empty. She heaved a sigh of relief. Now all she had to worry about was whether the girl would behave.
The beep as she opened the car doors sounded unnaturally loud in the silence of the night. Other than the pub (which had thrown out the last of its customers over half an hour ago), this was a predominantly residential area and most of its inhabitants were already tucked up in bed. She held her breath as Silver climbed inside the car. Then, before she had any more time to question the wisdom of what she was doing, she quickly jumped in too.
A few seconds later they were on their way.
In the confines of the small Fiesta, Susan became overly aware of Silver’s musky scent. She wasn’t sure how much of it was fear and how much was sweat and dirt. The girl probably hadn’t washed for a week. She glanced over her shoulder before opening the window an inch.
Silver was lying very still, curled up with her knees almost touching her chin.
The traffic, even though it was a Friday night, was light. The earlier storm had cleared most of the streets and the pavements too. Susan had to curb her desire to put her foot down. Instead she made a point of keeping well within the speed limit.
For the next twenty minutes she circled the centre of Kellston, taking random left and right turns in case Silver was trying to memorise the route. The less she knew about the location of where she’d been imprisoned, the better. When Susan finally pulled into the station car park, her nerves were jangling. The forecourt was deserted; the last train had long since come and gone. This was as good a place as any to dump the car. Even if Marty Gull did a thorough search of the area, even if he eventually found the Fiesta, it wouldn’t tell him anything more than that they might have caught a train somewhere.
‘Are we there?’ Silver whispered, her blue eyes looking wide and scared.
‘From here we walk. It’s not far.’
It was still raining lightly and an occasional rumble of thunder echoed in the distance. Susan, holding the suitcase in her left hand, linked her right arm through Silver’s and kept her close. When they reached the High Street, where the late-night café was still open, she tightened her hold.
‘Keep your head down,’ she instructed.
This was another of those dangerous times when the kid might suddenly decide to take her chances. But if she had any such notions she didn’t act on them and shortly after they passed through the entrance to the Green.
Susan deliberately looked over her shoulder.
Silver glanced back too.
‘What did I tell you?’ Susan h
issed.
Silver smartly bowed her head again, her shoulders hunching. If she had noticed the lack of any obvious shadow, she wasn’t responding to it.
The Green was empty and the air smelled of wet grass. Susan stayed on the central path. She tried to step up the pace but Silver, tottering in a pair of shoes two sizes too big for her, struggled to keep up.
The short march seemed to take for ever.
But Susan was finally rewarded for her troubles. As they reached the far side, her eyes quickly scanned the houses in Barley Road. She saw, with relief, that there was still a light on in the upper flat of number twelve.
Chapter Fifty-nine
Had she been paying a little less attention to her wine glass and a little more to the time – it was well after midnight – Jo would have thought twice about answering the door before first establishing who her late-night visitor was. As it was, she trotted down the stairs with some vaguely muddled notion of how Carla might have forgotten something or how Gabe Miller could have found himself in need of shelter again.
It was only as she saw the two hooded figures standing on the step that her stupidity hit home. This was London, for God’s sake, the capital of crime. What was she thinking? Instinctively, she drew back. Quickly gripping the edge of the door she prepared to slam it shut. Then the taller of the two pulled back her hood and smiled.
‘Hello, Jo.’
Jo’s mouth dropped open. ‘Laura!’ she said, automatically reverting to the name she had originally known her by.
‘Hey, it’s nice to see you too.’ Susan turned to her smaller skinnier sidekick and shoved her forward. ‘Get in,’ she said. ‘Go straight up and don’t touch anything.’
‘What are you doing?’ Jo protested. ‘You can’t—’
‘It’s an emergency,’ Susan said, barging past. ‘I’ve got a problem. It’s best if we talk inside.’
