by Sarah Hilary
In the car, she said, ‘Was it the Transport Police or Dan’s friend who called you?’
‘Rents, the graffiti tagger.’ Noah fastened his seat belt. ‘He’s not a friend of Dan’s, or anyone’s as far as I can tell. Dan had to convince him it wouldn’t get back to the BTP. Rents says he’s not been to the subway in months but it was always full of kids, boys as well as girls. Teenagers, but wet behind the ears. Not real street kids.’
Easy pickings, in other words, and less than half a mile from where Ledger had been living for the last three months.
The traffic was on their side. Noah was tense, his profile exaggerated by stress. If she listened hard, Marnie could hear him thrumming. ‘Did you talk with Sol?’
He shook his head. ‘But it’s cool, I think.’
Not Sol. He was stressing about something else.
‘You’d better tell me,’ she said lightly. ‘Even if you think I won’t like it.’
Noah threw her a quick look. She smiled. ‘Come on, we’ve been working together how long now? I can tell when something’s eating you.’
He put his shoulders down. Returned her smile, briefly. ‘Okay, but you really might not like it. I … spoke with the kid on the Garrett last night. The one on the bike, the lookout.’
Marnie switched lanes behind a taxi. ‘Go on.’
‘I went for a run. Wanted to see the power station, just the lie of the land. I didn’t head out there to talk to anyone. I know that could mess up the investigation. And he’s just a kid, which could get us into trouble, but … He was on his own, and I knew how to talk to him. I knew he’d seen stuff, because that’s the job of the lookout.’ He stopped, watching for Marnie’s reaction. ‘Sorry.’
Her mind leapfrogged its first thought – Welland telling her in a few choice words what he thought of her boy wonder breaking the easiest-kept rule in the book, ‘Keep all big sticks away from buckets of shit’ – and landed on its second. ‘What did he give you?’
‘A name. Christie Faulk. She used to live on the Garrett. He saw her with Ashleigh Jewell.’
‘On the night in question?’
Noah shook his head. ‘I thought that’s what he meant, but he says he’s not seen Christie in months. It was back before Christmas when he saw her with Ashleigh.’
‘What’s his name? Your witness.’
‘I didn’t ask him for a name. He wouldn’t have talked to me if it was on the record. I know that means it’s useless as evidence. It’s why I didn’t call you last night. I didn’t know whether you’d want me putting Christie’s name on the board, given how I got it.’
Marnie thought of the name she’d added to the board this morning: Grace Bradley. The source for that was hardly more reliable than Noah’s nameless boy. ‘How sure are you that it’s a lead?’
‘Pretty sure. I know kids like that, grew up with them. This kid’s not lying.’
‘You’d better follow it up. Get DC Tanner to search the system for Christie Faulk.’
Noah took out his phone and made the call. When he hung up, he changed the subject. ‘Dan’s curating a new show. Prisoner art. It made me think of May’s sketches, all those vertical lines. And on the Garrett. Emma Tarvin living like a prisoner. Even Abi and her friends are trapped there. The kid last night’s the same. Everyone’s terrified. It wasn’t that bad when I was growing up. I mean, it wasn’t good. There were a lot of problems, but there wasn’t this paranoia. We knew who was on our side and who wasn’t. Then you’ve got people like Toni Shepherd making a living out of it. All those promises of security, privacy, apartness … The artwork in the flat where we found May, the landscape over the bed? That was designed to make you want to pay extra for the locks on the doors and the CCTV cameras. “Look how scary London is”, that’s what they’re saying, what they’re selling. “Look how scary it is out there. Wouldn’t you like to be safe in here instead?”’
Panic rooms. Safe houses. Gated communities. A whole industry had grown up around people’s fear of invasion, or attack. Easy to turn up the volume on paranoia.
‘As if the world wasn’t frightening enough,’ Noah said, ‘without inventing things to be afraid of.’
In Stockwell, the subway shone with recent rain. Its shape was instantly recognisable from May’s sketches, the entrance with grass growing at either side, orange light from boxes mounted on the walls. The graffiti was just as May had drawn it, contrasting shades of neon. Fearz and Rents. The rest was recent litter, and kids sitting in a short group against one wall. Two on a tartan picnic blanket. The other, a teenage boy, on a Waitrose carrier bag. Not homeless, just truant. They’d been drinking Becks, empty bottles at their feet, and was that a Kettle Chips bag?
‘Hello. I’m Detective Inspector Rome. This is Detective Sergeant Jake. What’re your names?’
The boy on the carrier bag squirmed to face her. A nice face, round like a child’s. ‘I’m Joel.’
‘Hello, Joel.’ Marnie nodded, looking at the other two. A boy and a girl, both dressed in skinny black jeans and hoodies, Dr Martens.
The girl’s boots were floral-patterned. Uggs for hipsters. ‘Daisy,’ she said.
The boy said, ‘Corin.’
All three were moon-pale. Truants with liberal parents who’d paid for the expensive boots and jeans by working long hours, too long to spend time wondering what their kids got up to after school, or before it. May’s friends had been kids like these. Neglected, but not in the usual way.
‘Have you been coming here for a while?’ Marnie asked.
‘Not really,’ Joel said. ‘It was raining and we didn’t want to get wet, that’s all.’
The kids looked spooked. By Marnie and Noah? She smiled, to show them it was okay. ‘We’re looking for a couple of people who might have been here recently.’ She nodded at Noah.
He took out his phone, showing them the pictures of Jamie Ledger and Traffic’s girl.
The kids shook their heads. Corin said, ‘Is he the killer?’
They knew about the killer, but they chose to hang out here after school instead of going home.
Daisy said wistfully, ‘I like her hair.’
Marnie wondered about the face in May’s sketchpad, the poster child for Shelter. None of these three had that androgynous face with its arrogance and vulnerability. What had happened to that child?
‘Did any of you know May Beswick?’
They shuffled a look between them before Joel said, ‘Not really. Just on the news, you know. We heard about her on the news.’
‘She didn’t hang out here?’
‘Not when we were here.’ Another quick look at the other two. ‘We’ve not been coming here that long. Only in the last couple of weeks, and just when it’s raining.’
It had rained, on and off, for most of the month.
‘I’d like hair like that,’ Daisy said.
Marnie imagined the girl’s mother paying for an expensive colour job, the way she’d paid for the floral-patterned boots, taking the guilt trip gladly because it was a short cut to her daughter’s diminishing affection. Daisy’s mouth was turned down in a pout.
‘Did you know her, Corin?’ Noah said. ‘May Beswick.’
The boy shot a scared look at Joel, shutting his mouth so hard the shape of his teeth showed through his lips. He shook his head.
Noah said, ‘You looked as if you knew her, when DI Rome mentioned her name.’
Corin shrugged, linking his elbows around his knees.
Daisy belched. ‘Pardon me.’ She giggled, pointing at the empty Becks bottles. ‘Blame that.’
‘How old are you, Daisy?’ Marnie smiled at the girl. ‘Sixteen?’
‘Seventeen.’ Defensively.
‘May was sixteen. In the sixth form at Robert Fiedler, studying art and design.’ She kept her eyes on the girl’s face, knowing that Noah was watching Corin. ‘Are you in the sixth form, Joel?’
The boy shifted on his carrier bag. ‘Yes.’
‘Which school?’
/> ‘Same. Robert Fiedler.’
‘But you didn’t know May Beswick.’
‘It’s a big school, loads of us go there.’
‘If you didn’t know her,’ Noah asked Corin, ‘why are you so upset?’
‘Because she died.’ He kicked at an empty bottle. ‘What’re you – a freak? Jesus.’
Noah took out his notebook. A prop, but it worked. All three of them stiffened in response.
Marnie said, ‘I think we’d better take your full names and addresses.’
‘She came here.’ Daisy wound a finger into her hair, ignoring the filthy looks the two boys gave her. ‘We didn’t really know her, but she came here sometimes. To draw stuff.’ She pulled at her hair, glaring at Corin and Joel. ‘I am not getting another fucking lecture off my dad, all right?’
‘So you’ve been coming here for three months or more. When was the last time you saw May?’
‘Back before Christmas,’ Joel said.
‘Ages before that,’ Daisy corrected him. ‘That’s when I got these,’ sticking out her feet. ‘She never got to see them.’
‘Bonfire Night,’ Corin said, biting at his thumbnail. ‘She was drawing the fireworks over Battersea Power Station. She loved it there.’
May had gone missing on 31 December. Why did she stop coming to the subway two months before then? Or had these kids stopped coming when the weather was cold, deciding they could stand to be in their warm houses after all?
‘Did she come here with anyone else?’ Marnie asked. ‘Or was she by herself?’
‘By herself.’
‘You didn’t come forward when she went missing,’ Noah said. ‘Why not?’
‘We hadn’t seen her in ages, didn’t see what use it’d be telling you that. They asked us questions at school, but we didn’t know anything useful.’
‘And you didn’t want your dad giving you a lecture,’ Noah said, ‘about hanging out here.’
Daisy looked up at him for a long moment before she nodded.
‘Who else hung out here at that time? Just the four of you?’
‘Different people,’ Corin said, ‘come and go. It’s not like we’re a gang.’
Noah showed his phone again. ‘How about her? Did she come and go?’
‘That’s Ashleigh Jewell,’ Daisy said naïvely. ‘We never saw her.’
‘But you know who she is.’
‘Saw her on the news. Like that skinhead you showed us. Your Tumblr must be so depressing, photos of dead girls and killers …’
‘Who else came and went around the same time May was here?’
‘Sasha,’ Joel said. ‘Eric. A whole bunch of us. But people move on, if they can. Better than being stuck in this wasteland.’
‘Sasha Ronson?’ Noah asked.
Joel shrugged. ‘Just Sasha. She never said her surname.’
‘Have you seen her recently?’
‘No. She cleared off before May did.’
‘What about Eric?’ Marnie said. ‘Do you have a surname for him?’
Joel shook his head. ‘He was kind of a psycho, never talked much. Haven’t seen him in ages anyway. Guess he got away.’
‘These people who move on,’ Marnie asked, ‘are they all your age?’
‘I suppose so …’ Joel looked distant.
Corin got to his feet suddenly, kicking his corner of the tartan blanket out of the way. ‘I’m going home. Are you coming, Dee?’
Daisy rolled sideways to her knees. Climbed to her feet, dragging the blanket with her. She wrapped it around her left arm, waiting while Joel got up from the floor. He tidied the empty bottles into the carrier bag, making a show of being civic-minded.
‘We’ll take those.’ Marnie held out her hand. ‘And we’ll need your names and addresses. In case we want to contact you.’
She didn’t want to lose sight of these kids. Noah took their details. He and Marnie stood back, waiting to see which of the kids would lead the walk out. In the end, they fell into step, moving like the gang Corin said they weren’t, hiding under their hoods when they hit daylight.
‘What do you think?’ Marnie glanced around the subway’s low tide of litter. ‘Is it worth getting Forensics out here?’
‘They could have been lying about how recently they saw May.’ Noah held the back of his neck in the crook of his hand. ‘I don’t think they recognised Ledger, from my phone or the news last night. But May was here, more than once.’ He eyed the cracked tiles where old rain had collected like dark brown soup. ‘She sketched here, with Ashleigh.’
Marnie nodded. ‘Let’s seal it off. I’ll call Forensics.’ She tied a knot in the neck of the carrier bag and put it down on the tiled floor with the rest of the litter. ‘Fran will want to know we’ve found this place. She might even be able to rush the results for us.’
Noah didn’t question the decision, looking relieved to be doing something, even if it was only unwinding tape to keep any more kids from finding their way in here next time it rained.
After she’d put the call in to Fran, Marnie rang Debbie at the station. ‘We need a uniform.’ She gave the location of the subway. ‘We’ve taped it, and Forensics are on their way, but we need to keep it sealed off until they’re finished. Anything on Grace Bradley?’
She wanted Debbie to say no, but …
‘There’s a Grace Irene Bradley in the Missing Persons database. She went missing from care a year ago, when she was fourteen. I’m trying to get hold of a decent photo. The one they have could be anyone. It could be Traffic’s girl.’
‘Where was she in care?’
‘Wolverhampton. No connection that I could see to Ashleigh or May.’
‘Send me whatever you’ve got. How about the other girl, Christie Faulk?’
‘She’s next on my list. Ron’s going to call you. The Garrett’s getting to him.’
‘Keep digging. I want everything you can find on Grace and Christie.’
Marnie ended the call, looking at Noah. ‘Uniform’s on the way. We’ve got a possible lead on Traffic’s girl. Grace Bradley went missing from care in Wolverhampton a year ago. DC Tanner’s double-checking and sending through the Misper record.’
‘That’s good, isn’t it?’ Noah saw her frowning. ‘If we’ve got a name for her? That’s good.’
‘Let’s see what comes through.’ Marnie wiped her thumb at the screen of her phone, waiting for it to deliver the message from Debbie, or the call from Ron.
Debbie’s text came first.
The photo of Grace Bradley was poor quality, black and white, her face in shadow. Marnie searched for a resemblance to the e-fit, the barefoot girl in the CCTV footage. ‘Is it her?’
Noah bent his head close to look. ‘Maybe. Yes.’ He pointed at the girl’s jawline, strong, with a forward slant. ‘I think it’s her.’
Marnie was silent long enough for him to ask, ‘Where did the lead come from?’
‘Stephen Keele. He called this morning from Sommerville. One of the girls there, Jodie Izard, was living on the streets with Grace. He says. Jodie recognised her from the e-fit on the news last night. She’s also claiming to know Ashleigh and May.’
Noah’s face thinned, frowning. ‘What else?’
‘According to Stephen? Grace was kidnapped, and Jodie can describe who took her. Our killer, perhaps. If Grace is Traffic’s girl, then we should interview Jodie and get the full story.’
‘I could go.’ Noah waited, wearing a neutral expression. ‘If you prefer.’
‘I’ll go,’ Marnie said. ‘I want you here, looking for Grace. And Christie Faulk.’
37
Marnie left as soon as the PCSO arrived to guard the subway. She took the car, leaving Noah to catch the tube back to the station. He briefed the PCSO, warning him to keep everyone out of the subway until Forensics had finished. ‘Look out for kids, especially. They like to hang out here.’
The PCSO peered into the tunnel and pulled a face. ‘Rather them than me.’
That had bee
n Noah’s thought, seeing Corin and the others sitting inside the subway, albeit on a picnic blanket with pricey beer and crisps to keep them happy. He knew what his dad would say, ‘Kids like that don’t know they’re born,’ but it shouldn’t have spelt death for May and Ashleigh. He headed back towards the tube station, counting his blessings. His mum and dad, Sol. Dan. He was lucky not to know what it was like to live in a family that had ceased to function. Look at Marnie. Her foster-brother had destroyed her parents, changed her life.
This offer of help from Stephen – Noah didn’t trust it. He doubted Marnie did. She’d gone to Sommerville because Jodie Izard was a potential witness who had to be interviewed, but was Stephen following every case where Marnie was SIO? Was this the first time he’d offered his help? What was he playing at?
As he passed through the ticket barriers, his phone played Marnie’s tune.
‘I’m stuck on the M25.’ Her voice was clipped. ‘How quickly can you get to the Garrett?’
‘Twenty minutes, tops.’ Noah headed back into the Underground, fishing with his free hand for his Oyster card. ‘What’s happened?’
‘Assault and arson. Emma Tarvin’s been taken to hospital.’
‘Abi Gull?’
‘That’s what it looks like. DS Carling’s on site, so check in with him. I’ll join you when I can, as soon as I’ve taken the statement from Jodie Izard. Call me when you’re on the estate and let me know how bad it is. I need to keep Welland one step ahead of the press.’
At the Garrett, Community Safety officers were unloading riot gear from the back of a van. One of them, armed with a loudspeaker, was trying to clear the crowd for the fire crew.
Smoke uncurled like a fist from the sixth floor. Noah felt its sting in his eyes even from a distance. He started towards the tower block, showing his badge to anyone who got in his way, looking for the boy on the bike, but he was either not here or well hidden.
Ron was at the main entrance, talking on his phone. ‘He’s here now. Yeah … will do. Thanks, boss.’ He ended the call. ‘Well, this’s gone tits up.’ Flecks of soot under his eyes, blood on his hands. ‘Emma’s. She’s a right mess. Vicious little cows.’
