Little Girl Gone

by Stephen Edger

  She looked scornfully at him, before opening the packet and taking a bite. ‘You know I’m just as good a detective as you are.’

  ‘I know,’ he said, bowing his head. ‘I was out of order.’

  ‘And because I have been trained properly, I know that doing my job effectively takes more than instinct and street smarts. I don’t doubt that those things can be beneficial, but they’re worth shit when the scumbags are on trial.’

  He nodded, squinting against the sunshine peeking over the edge of the roof of the bookies. ‘Alex has been cutting herself,’ he suddenly blurted, unsure why it was so easy to talk to her. ‘You know, like self-harming? I can’t help thinking that maybe … I don’t know. It’s all such a mess. I can’t seem to figure out who to trust and what has happened to my little girl. Every time I come up with one theory, I find plenty of holes in it, and I can’t seem to see the wood for the trees.’

  ‘That’s probably because you’re too close to it, Ray.’

  ‘I don’t have a choice though, do I? She’s my daughter, and Alex is my wife. I don’t want to believe that Alex could have hurt her, but there are just too many holes in her story for me to unequivocally believe her. Why was she at that nature reserve in Fleet? She’s never mentioned having been there.’

  ‘Have you asked her?’

  He shook his head. ‘Trent swore me to secrecy. They don’t want her to know what they’re looking for in case it tips her off.’

  ‘Have they found anything of concern there?’

  He shrugged. His calls to Owen were now going unanswered, and he couldn’t blame his younger colleague for wanting to keep his nose clean.

  ‘I’m …’ he began, a lump forming in the back of his throat, ‘I’m terrified I’ll never see my little girl again. And it’s killing me. I’ve not slept properly since she went missing and I no longer know whether I’m coming or going.’

  Jodie looked away, clearly struggling to cope with the weight of what he was unburdening. It wasn’t fair of him to be dropping his deepest fears on her.

  Sniffing, he wiped his nose with the back of his hand, finished the cigarette, and choked down the urge to break down anymore. He had to stay strong; that’s what he’d say to any other father in his position. There wasn’t time for negativity.

  ‘Shall we go in and see if Delilah is inside?’ he said, ushering Jodie to take the lead, as she threw the chocolate wrapper in the nearby bin.

  Inside the bookies, it was suffocatingly warm, with half a dozen men leaning up against the betting stations, half with one eye on the horse racing on the large television screen above the counter, and the remainder studying the form guide in their newspaper. There was no sign of Delilah or Papadopoulos, but Ray immediately recognized the student worker behind the counter, who gave a nervous nod in their direction.

  Ray was about to ask if Papadopoulos was around, when Jodie raised the counter like a drawbridge and ducked through, holding the counter for Ray to slip beneath it too. The student didn’t give them a second consideration, instead reaching for the next punter’s slip and processing the payment.

  Ray heard Papadopoulos’s voice inside the small office. Putting his finger to his lips, Ray beckoned Jodie over, and they both leaned closer.

  ‘It’ll just be for a few days,’ Papadopoulos said to whomever he was speaking. ‘I’ll get everything sorted out there, and then you can join me. Okay? It’ll look less suspicious if we go separately.’

  ‘What if he comes asking after you again?’ Delilah replied quietly.

  ‘He won’t. They arrested someone from the gang this morning, so as far as Gianni is aware it’s done with.’

  ‘And when the truth comes out and this group tell the police they didn’t touch this place?’

  ‘Don’t worry about that. We’ll be long gone by then. Okay?’

  ‘And what if the police come asking questions again? The two who came to my flat aren’t stupid. They’ll figure out I was involved soon enough. I told you I shouldn’t have been off sick the day of the job.’

  ‘I couldn’t risk any harm coming to you and our baby, could I? What if something had gone wrong? I never would have been able to forgive myself. It was better this way. Gianni can go screw himself, and you and I get to spend the rest of our lives in some tropical paradise.’

  Jodie was about to burst through the door when Ray pulled her away. Dragging her from the shop, he didn’t speak until they were outside.

  ‘What the hell are you doing?’ she demanded.

  ‘We can’t arrest them. Not like this. You said yourself we need evidence of wrongdoing first.’

  ‘He just confessed to organizing the robbery!’

  ‘Hearsay. We need to catch him with the money, making his escape. We now know who’s responsible. If we stick to him like glue, he’ll lead us to the evidence.’

  Jodie scowled at him, before sighing in frustration. ‘What do you suggest?’

  ‘We’re going to need backup.’

  45

  Alex continued to pace the small space between the bed and the window, looking back over her shoulder. The laptop remained on the bed, the screen was open on the email app, but nothing new had been received in the last twenty minutes.

  What if he didn’t reply?

  She’d written her message to Simon three times before sending it. The first version was too tentative, and the second too aggressive. Had the third option really been the best? As the inbox remained empty she was beginning to doubt whether she should have replied at all.

  Isla could probably hear the pacing and would soon be wondering exactly what was going on. The right thing to do would be to call Isla up, show her the email and explain that she’d made a terrible mistake. Isla could then contact DI Trent and explain that it had been a stressful day – what with the incident at the park, and the meeting with the alleged clairvoyant – and it was a natural response to force things to move along. What if they arrested her for engaging with the abductor?

  She paused, and looked at the door. It would be easy to call for Isla. She was supposed to be the mediator between the family and the police, after all, yet Alex couldn’t help but feel she’d done a pretty lousy job so far.

  She gently rubbed her abdomen. None of the stress would be doing the innocent life inside her any good. If she didn’t do everything in her power to get Carol-Anne back, how would she ever be able to look her new baby in the eye and explain why his or her sister was no longer around?

  She felt sick just thinking about the email she’d sent, and hated the fact that she was all alone. What other choice did she have? She didn’t want to entangle Sophie in a conspiracy, and telling Ray or Isla would only wind her in more trouble. For now, she’d just have to wait and see what happened, and involve them if it got to the point where she couldn’t cope.

  Why hadn’t Simon replied to her question?

  Snatching up the laptop she opened the ‘Sent’ folder and reread her message again.

  Dear Simon,

  Prove to me that Carol-Anne is alive and well, and I’ll do what you ask. I need more details. Where is Jack? And how will you return Carol-Anne when the deed is done?

  Regards, Alex Granger

  It seemed so ridiculously formal now, like she’d just written to a casual acquaintance to arrange a get-together. How else was she supposed to engage with someone who had abducted her daughter and had clearly been planning this horror for a long time?

  Alex wondered whether she should send a second message, apologizing for the first one and trying to stress that she just wanted to know when she would see Carol-Anne again. It would be so much easier over the phone. The tone of an email could be misinterpreted, and it was never possible to invoke any real empathy like you could in a phone call.

  Simon wouldn’t be stupid enough to give her his number. The police could trace phone numbers via cell towers. She’d also thought they would have been able to trace where the email originated. Thus far Isla hadn’t relayed any
such information. In fact, she’d provided no updates so far today at all.

  Slamming the lid of the laptop, Alex yanked her door open, taking the stairs down two at a time, hearing Isla in a hushed whisper on the phone in the kitchen.

  ‘I understand that, but if she doesn’t … no, of course I trust you. Okay, I’ll see what I can find out from this end.’

  Pushing the door open with her foot, Alex burst into the room.

  Isla quickly ended the call.

  ‘Was that Trent? What did she say?’ Alex asked urgently, the hairs on the back of her neck on end.

  Isla’s eyes looked away for the briefest moment. ‘Uh, no. I’m due to speak to her soon. Are you okay? You look exhausted.’

  Why was Isla lying to her? Did Trent still secretly suspect she was involved in the disappearance? Or worse, had they put a tracer on her email activity, and knew what message she had sent?

  ‘Can I talk to Trent when you speak to her later? I want to know what they intend to do if they haven’t found this Simon by tomorrow.’

  Isla leaned back against the counter, the blood slowly disappearing from her cheeks. ‘They’re doing all they can to find Carol-Anne, Alex. You have to understand these things aren’t easy. It requires a lot of painstaking work. I know in television shows things seem to move at a lightning-fast speed. In reality it doesn’t work like that.’

  ‘Surely you can trace where an email was sent from, right? I mean, I’m not very technology-aware, but even I know you have to provide a name and address to register for an email address.’

  ‘The assigned email identification was false,’ Isla said, as she placed the kettle on its stand. ‘Ordinarily, we can trace the IP address of the computer used to send the message. On this occasion the recipient used software to hide his IP address. That tells us something about our suspect, though: he has a bit of IT knowledge.’

  ‘How does that help?’

  ‘It helps us narrow down the suspect-pool. I believe the team are now reviewing paroled convicts with similar MOs to see if they can shake a name. We are closing the net, Alex, I promise you.’

  ‘And what about Jack Whitchurch? What’s his involvement in all this?’

  ‘The team have had him in for questioning and, as I told you, he has been ruled out as a suspect.’

  ‘He is involved somehow, right? I mean, that’s why Simon has demanded he die.’

  ‘We don’t know what his involvement is at this point. We have offered him protection, and are keeping a close eye on his activity.’

  Alex thought back to the stories she’d read earlier. ‘What’s he like?’

  ‘I don’t think it’s healthy for you to be thinking about any of that.’

  ‘I read about him; I know what he was sent to prison for.’

  There was a curious look on Isla’s face, like she was searching for the right words; she’d seen the same look on Ray’s face every time he’d said he was going to play squash.

  ‘I don’t want you spending too much time worrying about Whitchurch. Let us handle him.’

  ‘Have you ever met him?’

  Isla’s stare met Alex’s suddenly. ‘Why does that matter?’

  Alex could read it all over her face. ‘Oh my, you do know him.’

  Isla looked away. ‘I’ve had the displeasure of coming into contact with all number of horrible people.’

  Alex wasn’t willing to let it go so easily. ‘Is he as bad as the reports said? Some of the things I read made me want to be sick.’

  Isla sighed. ‘I’m not at liberty to discuss things like that. Take it from me, you really don’t want to know. And besides, he isn’t considered a suspect in what’s going on with your daughter.’

  Alex’s back was beginning to ache, and she shuffled awkwardly until the pain subsided. ‘I’m just trying to understand why Simon wants him dead. Maybe he was one of Whitchurch’s victims.’

  The kettle began to whistle before disconnecting. ‘I’ll be speaking to Trent again soon. I’ll let her know you’d like a word.’

  She was trying to pacify her again, treating her with kid gloves, when all she wanted was the truth. Why did everything Isla say seem shrouded in mystery?

  ‘Why don’t you just use him?’ Alex asked. ‘Simon said Jack needs to die, so why not fake his death and draw Simon out? I could pretend to kill him; you could pretend to arrest me; we leak it to the press; Simon sees it, and releases Carol-Anne.’

  ‘Things are never that easy. For all we know, a report that Whitchurch is dead could give Simon the satisfaction he craves and then he could kill Carol-Anne. If she’s seen his face and can identify him then there are no guarantees he’ll live up to his end of the bargain. We have to tread very carefully.’

  Alex glared at her, as the implication of the words bit deep. ‘You don’t think she’s coming back, do you?’

  ‘I didn’t say that—’

  ‘That’s what you think.’

  ‘I’m not an expert, Alex. My role is to answer your questions as best as I can. I can’t predict what goes through criminals’ minds. I’m sorry.’

  Alex spun on her heels, racing up the stairs, away from Isla’s doubts, away from the cruel world that continued to keep her daughter from her. Slamming the door behind her, she slumped on the bed. The laptop screen was still bare, as Simon continued to ignore her.

  46

  He felt eyes on him the moment he pulled up on the road. As Ray turned and saw her leap from her car and hurry across the street, he knew things were not going to end well.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ he demanded, as he pushed his door open, grabbing her arm and pulling her out of sight of the house. ‘Are you crazy?’

  The fire in her eyes burned bright, and despite the reapplied make-up, it was clear she’d been crying. ‘What’s the meaning of this?’ She raised her hand for him to see.

  He cocked his head, trying to determine exactly what it was she was holding – pages of some kind – and why she would risk exposing their relationship so close to home?

  ‘These were emailed to my boss this afternoon,’ she growled. ‘Have you been videoing us? Is that how you get your kicks?’

  Her bitter tone confirmed she wasn’t playing some elaborate prank. Reaching for the pages, he slowly turned them over. Even under the dim glow of the street light, it wasn’t too difficult to realize what they depicted.

  Edging her further down the street, he looked at each printed image carefully. It was impossible to tell where they’d been taken. The two of them could clearly be seen kissing and caressing one another through the view of an open window. It was all he could do to stop himself retching.

  ‘Well?’ she demanded, her eyes shining as she struggled to contain her emotions.

  ‘I didn’t send these, if that’s what you’re suggesting,’ he began, glancing back over his shoulder to the house. ‘Do you think I want to expose … what we’ve been doing?’

  She wiped her nose with a well-used, scraggy piece of tissue. ‘My boss called me into his office this afternoon and dropped these on the desk. He told me they had been emailed to all the senior managers in the business, telling them they have a …’ She steadied herself. ‘A whore working for the company. He wanted to know who’d sent them and why.’

  Her dark maroon hair looked almost black in the faint orange glow overhead, and her Italian ancestry was clearly visible in those chocolate-like eyes, and the slight hue of her skin.

  ‘I was shocked … no, stunned to see images of the two of us … like that. My boss made it clear that cavorting in any way that could besmirch the company’s reputation was unacceptable. I’ve been suspended, Ray, with immediate effect.’

  He ground his teeth as the anger slowly began to boil within him. Not only had someone been following and recording them, they’d now detonated the bomb. This was the last place he needed to be comforting her, in full view of his curtain-twitching neighbours, and at the same time the compassion flowing through him couldn’t be
ignored.

  He reached out and pulled her into him, feeling the warmth of her tears as they blotted against his shirt. ‘I’m so sorry. I don’t know what else to say.’

  She pulled back slightly so she could look him in the eye, her forehead only inches from his chin. ‘Somebody knows about us.’

  It was the same thought that had been running through his head since he’d turned over the first image. The question was: who, and who else had they told? He glanced back at the house again, fearing what he might find when he trundled through the door.

  ‘I know I shouldn’t have come here,’ she continued, maybe sensing his anger. ‘I didn’t know where else to go. I wrote down the email address of the person who sent it. You can track them, right? Find out who they are and stop them?’

  He thought about how the tech guys had tried and failed to locate Simon, but he couldn’t go to them with something like this. For one thing it was a personal matter, unconnected to any ongoing investigation. And for another, it would mean exposing his own sordid secret to colleagues, and he knew how quickly gossip could spread through a station, even one as big as HQ.

  He checked his watch. He’d told Jodie he would nip home to collect clothes and have a bite to eat and would then relieve her. She was probably still stuck outside Papadopoulos’s two-bed mid-terraced property in the suburbs of Woolston, wondering how much longer he would be.

  ‘Let me handle this. Okay? Leave these with me, and I’ll do what I can to get to the bottom of it. Does anybody else know?’

  The look of hurt that now gripped her face told him he’d asked the question in the wrong way.

  ‘That’s all you care about, isn’t it?’ she scowled. ‘Whether or not your wife finds out about it. My career is up in smoke, and all you’re worried about is covering your back.’ She pulled away from him and turned to stomp off.

  ‘Noemi, wait,’ he called after her, but she was already halfway across the street and heading back to her car.

  She turned suddenly, pointing at him. ‘You know the saddest part of this whole thing? I was really starting to care for you, Ray.’ She poked her tongue into her cheek and shook her head sorrowfully. ‘More fool me for thinking you were different to the usual sleaze I allow into my bedroom. I was stupid to think I was ever anything more than a quick shag for you.’