Dark Game: A gripping crime thriller that will have you hooked! (Detective Kelly Porter Book 1)

by Rachel Lynch

  The boy’s eyes widened, as Lockwood knew they would.

  ‘Like I said, I’m not interested in anybody else, lad, just Wade. I need to speak to him.’

  Lockwood’s demeanour was open; he showed no signs of impatience or superiority, and it worked. The lad opened the door and beckoned him in. He saw Wade straight away, slouched in a chair playing on an Xbox with three other boys. They were all in animated game mode and didn’t notice the detective come in.

  ‘Wade. How are you, lad?’

  Wade’s eyes darted from the DI to the boy who’d let him in, and back again.

  ‘I just want to talk. Can you spare ten minutes to walk with me? It’s nothing to worry about, you’re not in trouble. I need to ask some questions. That’s all.’

  Wade knew he had no option. He turned to his mates, who simply shrugged and resumed their game, now one player down. Lockwood went to the door and Wade followed meekly.

  ‘How’re you doing, Wade?’ Lockwood said as they stepped out into the street. ‘I haven’t seen you for a while.’

  Maddox shrugged.

  ‘I heard your old fella’s inside again. I’m sorry. Not planning to follow in the family tradition, I hope.’

  ‘He’s a wanker,’ said Wade.

  Lockwood couldn’t disagree. He had a soft spot for kids who found themselves born into shit, it being no fault of their own. It was Darwin’s theory right here, living and breathing. He decided to get down to business.

  ‘Five years ago, you were mates with Dennis Hill.’ He let the statement sink in and watched as Wade’s demeanour shifted. ‘Why’d the friendship come to an end, Wade? I was told you two were close.’

  ‘Nah, we wasn’t close.’ Wade intimated that closeness to Dennis Hill would be repugnant and embarrassing.

  ‘Not what I heard. Why don’t you tell me your side of the story?’

  Wade was silent for a moment. He seemed to be trying to work out what Lockwood was digging for.

  ‘Nothing to tell. He kind of hung around, you know? He was kind of a baby. I went away to work. Is he all right?’ Some long-forgotten sense of decency prompted Wade to ask after the man with the slow brain and the big hands.

  ‘He’s fine, lad. I just want to know if you were mates when his niece turned up dead or had you parted company by then?’

  Wade coughed and put his hands in his pockets.

  ‘He said he told you that his niece looked pretty in her new dress, and where they were going eagle-spotting. Ring any bells?’

  ‘Nope.’

  ‘So you never told anyone about their little outing to Haweswater?’

  ‘Nope.’

  ‘Not a soul?’

  ‘Nope.’

  ‘But you do remember Dennis’s niece?’

  ‘He was cut up about it, I remember that.’

  ‘So apart from you, who else do you think might have known about their trip?’

  ‘Dennis told anyone who’d listen about her. He had this sick obsession with her. It gave me the creeps. He could have told anyone where she was going.’

  ‘But he told you. And who might you have mentioned it to, Wade?’

  Wade’s hands were firmly out of sight now, and he looked away from Lockwood.

  ‘Were you questioned about her disappearance at the time?’

  ‘No! Why should I’ve been? I don’t know nothing! What did he say? It’s lies! It’s—’

  ‘Calm down, Wade. I didn’t say he said anything. I just want to know who you told about her dress. So I can rule you out, you understand?’

  ‘I didn’t mention no fucking red dress.’

  ‘I never said it was red, Wade.’

  They stopped. Lockwood waited while Wade groped for an answer. He looked up at the detective, then away again, as if working out a way to get past him.

  ‘I thought you said it was red. Dennis must have told me.’

  ‘Let’s walk back.’ They turned round and went back the way they’d come. ‘The case has been reopened, Wade, and your name came up. Now, you know how this goes. If you were the only person Dennis told, then that puts you in a very awkward position.’

  ‘Darren Beckett! I told Darren Beckett. Fuck, will you leave me alone now?’

  Craig paused and raked his memory. He thought he’d heard the name somewhere.

  ‘What exactly did you tell him?’

  ‘Just that Dennis wouldn’t shut up about the eagles and her dress.’

  ‘Address?’

  ‘Oh, Jesus. I don’t know. He doesn’t live round here now. I haven’t seen him in weeks.’

  ‘So where did he live?’

  ‘Over there.’ Wade pointed across the road.

  ‘Number?’

  ‘5B.’

  ‘Thank you, Wade. I’ll be in touch. Now keep this safe and stay out of trouble.’ He handed Wade his card and crossed the road. There was no answer at 5B.

  When he returned to his desk, Lockwood punched Darren Beckett’s name into the database, not expecting any luck, but a result came up straight away. His mother had filed a missing persons this morning. Apparently Darren always visited her on a Thursday and brought her cigarettes and brandy. The woman was more concerned about her booze than her son, but the file had to be typed up anyway.

  According to his mother, Darren Beckett worked in the hotel industry and regularly travelled out of the area for long periods of time. A tip-off from a fellow petty criminal wasn’t enough to secure a search warrant, but Lockwood knew the landlord of the block of flats containing 5B.

  First, though, he called DI Porter.

  Chapter 26

  One positive of Kelly’s mother being in hospital was that she wasn’t home to give Kelly that look when she opened the door the next day.

  Kelly could fit in an hour with her mother before she started work, and at the same time visit baby Dale’s mother. A language professor had agreed to meet her at the hospital at nine fifteen. She’d managed to track down Carl Bradley, who knew full well that he hadn’t committed an offence, but at least she’d got out of him confirmation that the woman did indeed speak Serbo-Croat, and she could work with that.

  Nikki was at her mother’s bedside when Kelly arrived, and she wondered if she’d been there all night.

  ‘She’s very tired,’ said Nikki in a saintly whisper. Kelly ignored her and walked to her mother and took her hand.

  ‘Mum?’

  Her mother’s eyes opened and she smiled. ‘Kelly!’ She tried to sit up.

  ‘It’s all right, Mum. Just lie still. You need to rest until they’ve done more tests.’

  ‘It’s all a fuss about nothing,’ her mother said.

  ‘That’s right, Mum, you’ll be home soon.’ Kelly felt her sister’s eyes on her back and wished she’d leave her on her own with Mum for a bit. It would be nice if for once they could be in the same room without playing the competition game.

  Their mother drifted off again and Kelly looked at the dials and switches next to her bed. They all seemed normal, but what would she know?

  ‘So, you’re still after Dave Crawley, Kelly? Katy knows everything. She’s livid.’ Nikki savoured every word.

  Kelly looked at her sister with incredulous eyes. She contemplated punching her, but she knew the pleasure it would bring would be short-lived, nor would it make any difference to the disproportionate size of her sibling’s mouth compared to her brain.

  ‘What the hell are you talking about?’ she asked instead. Their voices had subsided to whispers.

  ‘You. Chasing Dave around Pooley Bridge. She knows everything.’ Nikki gave a self-satisfied grin.

  ‘Oh Jesus, Nikki. Get your facts right before you go hurling accusations. I bumped into him with Flash Gordon in a bar and said hello.’ Kelly’s blood was boiling.

  ‘No one calls him Flash any more, Kelly. We’ve all grown up.’ Her sister looked at her defiantly, and Kelly burst out laughing.

  ‘That doesn’t even deserve a response. Not one that you would under
stand anyway,’ she said, and Nikki’s cheeks smouldered.

  ‘Stay away from him,’ she ordered.

  Kelly laughed again. She knew she was the least of Katy’s worries. By the looks of it, Dave was already a broken man, and although Kelly wasn’t interested, it still made her sad.

  ‘Oh polish your fucking halo, Nikki.’ Kelly walked out. Their mother appeared to sleep on.

  It didn’t matter how little Kelly saw of her, her sister was still able to get under her skin, but this morning she had more important things to worry about. She had time to grab a coffee before she went to reception to meet Professor Cole. They shook hands, then walked to the ward together. The professor had managed to find out that the woman’s name was Jovana. She’d been reunited with her son, and according to the nurses, over the last couple of days she’d seemed to perk up.

  DC Phillips had arranged for twenty-four-hour cover outside Jovana’s private room, and after introducing themselves to the ward sister, they were shown inside. The girl was understandably uncomfortable with the presence of more strangers, but Cole spoke quickly and Jovana relaxed. Kelly went to her and looked at the baby.

  ‘Tell her he’s beautiful,’ she said to Cole. He spoke in a strange language that Kelly thought sounded like a cross between German and Russian. She’d never heard anything like it. Jovana smiled and said something in reply. Kelly looked at Cole.

  ‘She says thank you. She would like very much to go home.’

  ‘Where is home?’

  ‘Sarajevo.’

  ‘And what is she doing here?’

  The professor translated all of Kelly’s questions and Jovana answered them. Kelly didn’t know if the answers were honest or not, and with the language barrier, it was difficult to tell, but at least they had something to go on.

  ‘She came with her husband looking for a better life.’

  ‘How did she get here, and where is her husband now?’

  ‘They came in a lorry. She doesn’t know where her husband is; all she knows is that he paid for them to be brought here, but something went wrong. She’s saying that horrible people have got him.’

  ‘Did she come all the way from Sarajevo in the same lorry?’

  ‘No, she’s saying that they drove to Budapest where the lorry picked them up. It dropped them somewhere in England- her husband told her they were in England- and then she was transferred to a van without her husband.’

  ‘Ask her why she is not with him.’

  ‘She says that she was able to get a lift from someone- the man in the van- her husband paid. Her husband was very scared, and left her with the driver for her safety, and she hasn’t seen him since. The man said he dropped her off in Patterdale, and wouldn’t take her further, and she’s sure her husband wouldn’t have paid for her to be left in the middle of nowhere. She wandered round until she found some shelter. She gave birth on her own and wrapped the baby in some of her clothes, then in a fit of confusion and fear thought he’d be safer without her.’

  Kelly listened as Professor Cole conversed fluently with the woman and she tried to pronounce Patterdale.

  ‘Sounds like she’s been done over pretty badly. What sort of person drops a heavily pregnant woman off miles from anywhere? Christ. Ask her if she can give a description of both the drivers and the vehicles.’

  ‘She said she can. She wants to know if the men who took her husband are coming to get her.’

  ‘What’s her husband’s name?’

  ‘Nedzad Galic.’

  ‘Does she know who her husband paid to bring them here?’

  ‘No. She says he was going to meet them to hand over some money, but he never came back. He’d given the van driver money before he left. She’s saying maybe it was a trap.’

  ‘Can you check if I’ve got this right? She and her husband paid to come to England from Budapest. Once in England, they stop somewhere to hand over more money; she changes vehicles, and he gets taken?’

  The professor relayed this to Jovana, and she nodded. ‘She doesn’t know where the exchange took place.’

  Of course she doesn’t, thought Kelly. The poor girl had probably never been outside Bosnia.

  ‘So there were two vehicles involved in the journey? Can she remember both of them?’

  The professor said she could: one was a large lorry and the second a smaller van.

  ‘Can she describe the large lorry first?’

  The girl moved her mouth slowly around an alien word, as if practising something she had been thinking about for some time.

  ‘Crawley,’ she said, in a near-perfect English accent.

  Kelly’s arm hair stood up and she remained very still for what felt like minutes, without making a sound.

  ‘DI Porter?’ It was the professor.

  ‘Sorry, yes. Right. Can you get her to write down her address in Sarajevo, and anyone there who might be missing her. I’ll call the embassy.’

  After thanking Professor Cole, Kelly went to the canteen and ordered another coffee. She sat nursing it for a long time, figuring out what to do next. She felt dazed by what Jovana had told her. Eventually she looked up a number in her phone and dialled. It was a long shot, but the family might still live there. It was answered on the third ring.

  Yes, this was Mrs Crawley speaking. No, Dave wasn’t there. Yes, Dave lived near Penrith. Yes, how lovely, he would be thrilled to hook up with an old friend. Yes, she had the number right there.

  Kelly thanked her and hung up. She dialled the number and Dave answered.

  ‘Dave, it’s Kelly. I need to speak to you.’

  Chapter 27

  Gabriela looked at the poster and a knot formed in her stomach. The police photo showed a girl’s face and a flash of red hair; she knew that it was Anushka. Roza still hadn’t returned, and every morning, after her shift, Gabriela checked to see that the money, watch and ring were still in the wardrobe.

  She toyed with the idea of approaching the police solely on the basis that she was worried about her roommates. They would’ve run out of money by now: they had no jobs, and they’d left valuables behind. Not just any valuables, but stacks of cash, and in the world of the illegal, cash was everything.

  Mrs Joliffe rarely checked on her at night anymore; she seemed pleased with Gabriela’s discretion, as she called it. Every morning she wafted in on a cloud of perfume and make-up, shaking her perfectly curled hair, and asked the same question.

  ‘Any problems, Gabriela?’

  ‘No, Mrs Joliffe,’ she’d reply.

  ‘Super.’ Then she would smile and straighten her suit in front of the mirror.

  Gabriela was becoming confident in her new role, and figured that if she carried on the way she was going, she’d soon be much richer than if she’d stayed serving breakfast. But would she get her passport back? That was the burning question.

  She’d met women like Mrs Joliffe before, all business and no pleasure. They seemed empty of a story and came across as terribly sad. Since taking the job as night manager, she’d had more time to think about such things, and more time to watch. When things were quiet, she made sketches of the people she’d seen coming and going at the hotel in the middle of the night. She also gathered her own insurance. She didn’t know exactly which ledgers and documents were important, but she began photocopying them. If Mrs Joliffe, for whatever reason, chose to withhold her passport, Gabriela would need to be able to negotiate. She also suspected that Mrs Joliffe was avoiding the police, who’d been into the hotel asking questions. She’d watched with her own eyes as Mrs Joliffe slipped out of the back of the hotel as two policemen had come in the front, and Gabriela was sure it wasn’t a coincidence. The receptionists had all been told to say that Anushka had been sacked, which was a further untruth. Gabriela was young, but she knew that if someone lied to the police, the chances were that something else, something bigger, was at stake. Mrs Joliffe had become more edgy after that, spending less and less time at the hotel. Thankfully, so far, Gabriela hadn’t
encountered any police on her night shift.

  She couldn’t sleep and she tossed around in her small bed. The sunshine pierced her windows despite the hand towels she’d tacked over the gaps; she saw daylight everywhere, and she couldn’t stop staring at Anushka and Roza’s beds.

  She looked at her watch. It was only midday. She sat up and sighed, running everything over in her mind to check and double-check her tracks. The photocopies of clients’ details were safe under her mattress, along with the drawings and her wages, which totalled over five hundred pounds so far. She had made it clear that she was happy to work seven nights a week.

  She was gaining the trust of Mrs Joliffe, who regularly tested her. One night her boss hid a diamond ring in the office, under some paperwork; another night she left a heavy gold bracelet on the desk. Gabriela had simply tidied around them.

  Suddenly she froze.

  Someone was turning the handle of her door. They hadn’t knocked; clearly they had no intention of announcing their visit. She stared at the handle, hardly daring to breathe but needing to as her lungs screamed. She began to shake. Something was being inserted into the lock, and she ran to the door and flipped the bolt. The fumbling stopped and Gabriela waited.

  Sunlight shone under the door, and she dropped to the floor to peer through the gap. She made out a shadow, but it didn’t move. She tried to focus and thought she could see a pair of shoes; men’s shoes, she was certain – in fact they looked like boots. The handle turned again and Gabriela held her breath, but the bolt held. The man rattled the door but he couldn’t get in. He punched it hard and Gabriela jumped back towards her bed, almost falling onto it. The feet paced up and down, boots clumping on the thin carpet. He wasn’t going away.

  After a few minutes, her breathing slowed a little, but she was too scared to open the door. She smelled cigarette smoke. She took a towel from the bathroom, rolled it up and placed it along the gap under the door. Then she pressed her ear against the wood but couldn’t hear anything. Whoever it was, she knew what they wanted. She thought about the cash. The watch. The ring. The laptop at the bottom of the wardrobe.

  She went to the wardrobe and took out the drawstring bag. Then she removed the envelope full of photocopies, drawings and cash from under the mattress and got dressed. There would be no sleep today. She phoned reception and asked George, the day receptionist, to investigate the second floor for anyone who shouldn’t be there. Then she waited. She had no idea if the figure beyond her door had gone.