Little Girl Gone

by Stephen Edger

  Earlier today Alex had sent him a garbled message that he hadn’t understood. Something about Isla’s son. The message hadn’t been clear, and as he’d been about to phone Alex to ask her what it was about, Jodie’s call had interrupted proceedings. He’d left Owen to follow up with Alex directly.

  Forcing it from his mind, he narrowly avoided another collision at the next roundabout, not slowing for the speed bumps on the approach to the airport at Eastleigh. Skidding to a halt at the departures drop-off point, he waved his badge at the security guard in the high-visibility jacket and dived through the automatic doors, searching high and low for any sign of the short, balding Greek. There were too many people to see clearly and backup had yet to arrive.

  Racing to the departures screen, he looked for the flight Papadopoulos was due to board. The screen was flashing a ‘Final Call’ warning, and Ray took off again, heading for security control and running to the head of the queue.

  ‘My colleague should have called ahead,’ he shouted at the stern-faced woman in the navy uniform. ‘My suspect has gone through and is boarding now. Please, you have to let me through.’

  She looked at his badge, nodding at one of the other border force officers to escort him.

  ‘It’s Gate 12,’ Ray panted as the two of them darted through the security barrier and into the departures lounge.

  Three people were queuing at the door, where the boarding agent was reviewing passes, and that’s when Ray spotted him: not in the queue, instead sitting in the seats closest to Gate 4.

  ‘Wait, wait,’ Ray said breathlessly. ‘That’s him.’

  Papadopoulos seemed oblivious to the commotion. With large headphones around his head and his face buried in a magazine, it had been lucky that Ray had noticed him. As he approached and his eyes made contact with Papadopoulos, the bookie’s mouth dropped.

  ‘That’s funny,’ Ray said with a frown. ‘You’re due to board the flight to Skiathos, yet here you are waiting for the flight to Geneva. Last-minute change of mind, was it?’

  Papadopoulos looked left and right, searching for an exit, before reaching for his carry-on bag. ‘There’s no crime against going on holiday. What are you doing here anyway?’

  ‘We know you masterminded the raid on your own shop. We’ve been waiting for you to make your move, and I’d bet there’s a Swiss bank account in your name where the laundered cash is sitting for collection? Where’s your passport?’

  ‘Listen, unless you plan to arrest me, I have a flight to catch.’

  ‘Draco Papadopoulos, I am arresting you on suspicion of—’

  ‘Stop,’ Papadopoulos barked, before softening his tone. ‘Listen, there must be some kind of arrangement we can come to. Hmm?’

  Ray raised his eyebrows at the border guard, whose expression remained fixed on the two of them.

  The bookie’s eyes were twinkling. ‘What if you were to let me go, and then I was to send a gift your way? To both of you I mean. All you have to do is look the other way and you can earn yourselves a small nest egg for the future, or even a holiday of your own.’ He leaned closer to Ray. ‘What do you say?’

  Ray didn’t respond, instead snapping a cuff on the shorter man’s wrist. As they made their way back through a discreet security-controlled side door and out to the waiting transport van, Ray couldn’t help noticing the man in the shiny black Mercedes observing their every move.

  ‘How long have you been in the bookmaking business?’ Ray asked, as the elevator doors opened, and he found himself face-to-face with Gianni Demetrios for the second time in a week. ‘I mean, that is why you’ve had your man sniffing around the heist, right? You’re Papadopoulos’s silent partner? At first I thought you might be involved, somehow, but it seemed too small-time for you.’

  Demetrios grinned from ear-to-ear, leaning against the door. ‘Can I fix you a drink?’

  Ray exited the elevator and followed him through to the secluded office. ‘It’s a bit early.’

  Demetrios moved across to the drinks trolley and poured himself a Scotch. ‘I haven’t been to bed yet, so this is late to me.’

  ‘You said you wanted to see me about something?’ Ray said, keen to get back to the station as quickly as possible. ‘I don’t take kindly to being summoned.’

  ‘Please, take a seat.’

  ‘I’ll remain on my feet if it’s all the same to you. Last time I was in here, a picture of us together wound up on my boss’s desk.’

  ‘And you think I sent it?’

  ‘Honestly, I don’t know.’

  ‘Yet you still returned.’

  ‘Full disclosure: my boss knows that I’m here, so if your plan is to fabricate something, in order to blackmail me, then—’

  Demetrios snorted. ‘Blackmail? You think that’s my game?’

  Ray bit his tongue. ‘Nothing would surprise me with you. What do you want?’

  ‘Papadopoulos stole from me; I’d like to know if he was acting alone.’

  ‘I can’t tell you anything about an open investigation.’

  ‘It was my money he stole.’

  ‘And when the investigation is concluded, we will update you. In the meantime—’

  ‘She phoned me, you know? That woman who works in the office. Delilah, is it? She knew he was planning something and she tipped me off after he’d done it.’

  ‘That’s why you had your man intimidating her at her flat?’

  ‘“Intimidation”? Reassurance more like. I wanted her to know that we would take care of her. I reward loyalty in my organization. She was terrified Papadopoulos would find out and come after her, so I told her to go along with his plan, and that we would take care of him. She’s pregnant with his kid, but there’s no love there. We’ll look after her now.’

  Ray couldn’t determine if Delilah would be better off or not. ‘He’s in custody now, and all things being equal will be charged before the end of the day.’

  Demetrios sipped his drink. ‘Lucky for him that you got there first then. He’d be in the ground now otherwise.’

  ‘Is there anything else?’ Ray asked, looking at his watch.

  ‘I wanted to thank you for bringing a guilty man to justice. I take it my funds will be returned after the case is concluded?’

  ‘It might take a little longer, as we believe the funds may have already been laundered. Our Fraud Team will be in touch about that.’

  Demetrios narrowed his eyes. ‘I’m very impressed with the speed at which you have handled all this. I’ve had my eye on you for some time, and despite our differences the other night, I think you have a bright future.’ He paused. ‘I would like to offer you a permanent membership here, at my casino, free of charge by way of showing you my gratitude.’

  Ray waved his hand. ‘No thanks.’

  ‘No strings attached, DS Granger. I told you I like to reward loyalty in my organization.’

  ‘Well, I’m not part of your organization.’

  ‘It doesn’t have to be that way. The cost of information is always on the rise. You wouldn’t be the first to take a retainer – untraceable, you understand.’

  ‘Why do I have to keep telling people that I’m not bent?’ He sighed. ‘I appreciate your offer, but I don’t want to muddy my view.’

  ‘I understand. Perhaps there is something else I can assist you with.’

  Ray turned on his heel. ‘I’d best be off.’

  ‘Your daughter, for example,’ Demetrios called out.

  Ray froze.

  ‘A source tells me that you need Jack Whitchurch taken care of. Say the word and it will be done.’

  Ray slowly turned back to face him. ‘What do you know about that?’

  ‘Only what I was told.’

  It didn’t surprise Ray that there could be leaks in the department. ‘Who spoke to you?’

  ‘One of my paid friends. See, I told you information had a value. You want me to have Whitchurch dealt with?’

  ‘You’d do that? Just like that?’


  ‘One less paedophile on this planet would be good for everyone, no?’

  Ray thought back to what Alex had said last night: it wouldn’t have to be us who killed him.

  ‘Say yes and my debt to you will be repaid,’ Demetrios continued swishing the drink around his glass.

  Ray knew he could never accept such an offer, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t consider it for a split second. ‘I don’t want you to kill anyone for me. Let’s be clear about that.’

  Demetrios lowered his glass and moved across, his voice little more than a whisper. ‘From what I understand, if he’s still breathing by the end of today, your little girl won’t be. What means more to you: your principles, or her life?’

  53

  Looking out the window at the three-storey block of flats, Alex reread the note she’d found in the delivered package. ‘Are you sure this is the right place?’ she asked the minicab driver, who had already demonstrated English was not his first language.

  The accommodation certainly wasn’t what she’d pictured, and just as she was doubting whether Carol-Anne’s abductor had made a huge mistake, a police car pulled up outside the flats. Alex instantly lay back on the seat, panicked that one of the uniformed officers might recognize her or demand to know what she was doing at the address. And if they looked in her handbag and found the gun …

  The taxi driver had turned in his seat and was giving her a confused look. She forced a smile, hoping to offer some kind of reassurance, praying he didn’t turf her out or draw unwanted attention to their arrival.

  ‘You pay now?’ he asked, unable to keep the concern from his voice.

  ‘Yes, yes,’ Alex whispered, doing her best to reach into her bag and find her purse without looking, worried about inadvertently firing the gun. Clasping the purse, she pulled it out, removing a £20 note. ‘Can I stay here for a bit, please?’

  The driver eyed the money and the metre before nodding. ‘Okay.’

  Alex took a deep breath and counted to five before slowly sitting back up, keeping her head as low as possible, and peeking out over the bottom edge of the window. The two officers were now out of the car. One was holding the rear passenger door open, while the other helped the old man emerge from the vehicle. From this distance it was impossible to tell whether it was definitely Jack Whitchurch, but the ivory-coloured hair was a giveaway.

  She hadn’t expected him to look so frail, and she had to fight the urge to feel any kind of sympathy for him, forcing herself to remember all the news stories she’d read detailing his crimes against children. She continued to watch as the two officers escorted him in to the building.

  This wasn’t any good. How could she get close to him if he had a police escort with him for the rest of the day? She still wasn’t convinced she’d be able to squeeze the trigger when the time was right, but she knew she would definitely never be able to kill two innocents as well. Fishing into her purse, she found another £20 note and passed it to the driver.

  The confusion remained strained on his face, as he accepted the money.

  The three men were now inside, and from where Alex was hunched it was impossible to see inside. The address card hadn’t mentioned that it was a small block of flats. She had no way of knowing which floor he lived on, let alone which flat number was his. The thought of going door-to-door, growing a list of witnesses who would be able to describe her and confirm her presence there, just wasn’t practicable.

  There was no other choice: she would have to get a closer look.

  With another deep breath, she carefully prised the door open and slipped her legs out.

  ‘Wait for me, please’ she pleaded at the taxi driver, hoping he wouldn’t take off the moment she’d closed the door.

  The breeze felt cool against her face. Now she was out in the open, any casual observer in the houses lining both sides of the road could also see her. It had been a terrible idea to come out in broad daylight. But waiting for darkness brought a greater threat to Carol-Anne’s life. Darting across the road so she was now on the same side as the flats, she tried to act as casually as she could, welcoming the slight cover of a line of trees that led from the large patch of grass to the side of the first of the small blocks.

  The flats were protected by a weathered picket fence, too high to climb over, but a hinged gate allowed access to the inner perimeter. There were four blocks in total, at perpendicular angles to one another, obviously some architect’s idea of giving the formerly council-owned buildings some kind of artistic feel. The brickwork looked cold and uninviting, and as she approached Alex wondered how many of the residents realized exactly who their new neighbour was. And in fact, how many of the neighbours bore similar criminal histories. For all she knew, she was in the presence of some of the country’s most vicious former convicts.

  She didn’t have time to worry about that now.

  The gate creaked as she opened it. As she stared at the four entranceways, it wasn’t obvious which of the front doors the three men had entered. Glancing back over her shoulder, she was relieved to see the taxi still parked, and as she calculated the angles, she headed for the only door visible from the cab.

  Three small glass panels in the uPVC door gave an obscured view of the inner corridor, where there was no sign of the three men. A staircase to the right led upstairs. Without gaining entrance into the building, she would have no way of determining where they were. Taking a step backwards, she stared up to the top row of windows, looking for any movement or change in shadow that would indicate where they were, but there was nothing.

  The panel next to the door showed twelve flat numbers and buzzers, but none of the flats showed the resident’s name. Twelve meant there would be four flats per floor, and if he was in one of the flats towards the rear of the building, she wouldn’t see any movement this side. A pathway off to the right led around the back of the building, and as she followed it, she was surprised to see a freshly dug flowerbed and neatly mowed lawn space. Clearly one of the residents was green-fingered.

  Alex’s efforts to see into any of the flats were spoiled by the angle of the sun behind the heavy cloud pattern. Every passing second felt like a step further from Carol-Anne, and the tension in her hands was causing her to ball her fists and dig her nails into her palms for any kind of relief.

  ‘Are you all right, luv?’ a male voice called out over her shoulder.

  Turning, Alex’s eyes widened as she came face-to-face with one of the police officers now standing outside the block.

  ‘You look lost,’ the officer commented, giving her a curious look.

  A single bead of sweat ran down the length of Alex’s spine; her heart was thumping so loud in her chest it was all she could hear.

  The officer took a step closer. ‘Are you all right, luv?’ he asked again.

  Alex willed herself to say something – anything – to explain why she was skulking in the vicinity of a man whose life was being threatened.

  The officer took a second step closer, the confusion on his face descending into concern.

  Alex reached into her handbag, feeling the cool frame of the gun pressing against her fingers.

  She could run, but he could give chase and would undoubtedly catch up with her.

  She could pull out the gun and threaten him, but that wouldn’t get Carol-Anne back.

  Willing the ground to open up and swallow her whole, Alex’s mind suddenly fired to life. ‘I’ve lost my dog,’ she blurted. ‘Have you seen him?’

  The officer’s attention was suddenly diverted, as he looked left and right. ‘What sort of dog is he?’

  ‘A Yorkshire Terrier,’ she said: the first breed that had come to mind.

  ‘Where was he when you last saw him?’

  ‘He was running near those trees,’ she said, indicating towards the treeline which had provided her with cover moments earlier. ‘One minute he was there, and the next, gone.’

  ‘What’s his name?’

  Alex’s mind blan
ked again as she strived to think of any dog’s name. ‘Jock.’

  ‘Are you local to the area? Is it possible he might have run home?’

  ‘Um … no, well not that local.’

  ‘Okay, well, while searching for dogs isn’t really part of our role, I can help you look for a few minutes until my colleague returns.’ As he said the words, the second officer reappeared at the door. ‘This lady’s lost her dog,’ the first explained.

  ‘And?’ the second officer commented, with an uninterested grunt.

  The first officer turned back to Alex. ‘I’m sure he’ll find you when he realizes you’re not there. The best thing I can suggest is you keep looking for now, and if you still don’t have any luck, ring around the local vets and find out if anyone has reported him. Is he chipped?’

  Alex frowned at the question.

  ‘Does he have a microchip in his neck?’ the officer clarified.

  ‘Um, yes,’ Alex said quickly, uncertain how long she could sustain the lie.

  ‘We have to go,’ the second officer said, heading back towards their car.

  The first officer offered an apologetic nod at Alex. ‘I’m sure he’ll surface. I’m sorry.’ And with that he joined his colleague in the car.

  Alex waited until they’d pulled away before making her way back to the waiting taxi. Her heart was still racing, though there was a sense of relief starting to settle her nerves.

  ‘You want to go somewhere else?’ the taxi driver asked, as she leaned against the car.

  She was about to answer when she spotted Whitchurch exit the flats, walk to the end of the path and look both ways, before opening the gate and making his way along the pavement in the opposite direction to her. And for a man who had struggled to get out of the police car, he was moving briskly.

  Alex didn’t answer the taxi driver, pulling up her shirt collar and setting off in pursuit.

  54

  ‘Where the hell have you been?’ Trent shouted from the Incident Room, as Ray made his way along the corridor.

  Ray ducked in, not wanting to shout his business to the whole room. ‘You know where I was,’ he whispered.