Blood Runs Cold_A completely unputdownable mystery and suspense thriller

by Dylan Young

  Sutton frowned. ‘Didn’t I read that the squad broke the Woodsman case?’

  Woakes ignored that. ‘What did you think about the doctor, Hawley?’

  Sutton shook his head again. ‘After the bones came to light and forensics confirmed who it was, the review team thought it might be a good idea to have another look at him. But he was clean.’

  ‘No suggestion that he might be part of something else?’

  ‘A ring, you mean?’ Sutton shook his head. ‘Nah, nothing remotely suggesting that. We decided it was a random attack by some desperate bastard with an eye for an opportunity.’ Sutton saw the expression on Woakes’ face. ‘Doesn’t help you much, does it?’

  ‘No. But I needed to tick this box by talking to you.’

  ‘Your idea or the DI’s?’

  ‘All mine,’ said Woakes.

  Sutton nodded. ‘Sensible. I’d have done the same. She’s lucky to have you watching her back.’

  Twenty-Two

  Anna needed to speak to Rainsford. The superintendent had been out at meetings first thing, but she saw him arrive back, striding down the corridor purposefully. She got up and was about to find him when Trisha stopped her with a wave, a phone in her hand.

  ‘Sergeant Danaher, ma’am.’

  Anna ducked back into her office and took the call.

  ‘Hi, Julie.’

  ‘Ma’am, my guvnor said to give you a call. We found a photo of Blair.’

  A trickle of electricity danced over Anna’s scalp. She sat down, made herself concentrate.

  Danaher took the silence as her cue to explain. ‘Our tech guys did a sweep and found a posted image on a chat site called Pinocchio. We don’t know who put the image up or where it came from, but it’s on a thread about missing children. A lot of these people pretend to know where these children are, though in fact they get their kicks talking about them. It looks like whoever posted this took the image from some other site.’

  Anna waited.

  ‘It has the same caption as the Rosie Dawson image you sent up.’

  ‘PPV?’

  ‘PPV, yeah. I’ve sent it over via Varga. It should be with you shortly. This was taken when Blair was alive. That’s a huge boost to us. My DI says we owe you a night on the town.’

  ‘I’ll remember that.’

  ‘The SIO wants to take a look at your case files, ma’am,’ Danaher said.

  ‘Absolutely. What’s the thinking?’

  ‘A ring possibly. That’s his first thought.’

  ‘He’s not convinced it’s the same perpetrator, then?’

  ‘We’re not dismissing it, but the MO in the two cases are so completely different it doesn’t add up. Rosie was taken in a park; Blair was abducted into a vehicle with her sister. Admittedly, the locations on the images look similar: concrete floor, plastered walls, but there are differences. Blair seems to be in some sort of hole but Rosie was simply sitting on the floor and there is no hole. Our digital forensic guys tell us these sites often replicate images. Copycats. There’s nothing else solid to connect them and we had to limit our search parameters. Still, the SIO would like to review the file. And our cyber unit are still looking for images. If we find anything else, I’ll let you know.’

  ‘I’ll get copies up to you right away.’

  ‘If you’re ever up at the Fringe, give us a bell.’

  Anna woke her computer. The email from Danaher was already there, forwarded on by Varga. She opened it and scanned the message. The image was included as an attachment. Anna watched it develop in front of her eyes, her blood running cold as the screen filled from top to bottom. Blair in some kind of hole in the ground, looking up, her eyes huge and desperate. Underneath, the typed letters PPV and now extra words, a tilt at a more modern world: #crypto, #captured, #pogo. But Anna forced her gaze away from Blair to her surroundings. A grey cement floor, as with Rosie. And, more importantly, in the top right-hand corner of the photograph, at the edge of the frame, the side of a bucket. Black plastic. Just like in Rosie’s photograph.

  She sat back. Was it the exact same space? It was possible. Very possible. How could Danaher not have seen this? But then Anna saw it from Danaher’s angle. Black plastic buckets were ubiquitous, sold in thousands of supermarkets and household goods stores. Even if it was the same bucket, so what? Often, organised rings had a safe house. Somewhere unnoticed where they could secrete and indulge, perpetrate their crimes. A shiver ran through her. It did not bear thinking about. But she had to.

  Anna looked out at the daylight beyond the window, giving her thoughts room to move around. Danaher was right: the MO in the Blair case was not the same as what happened to Rosie and not the same as had happened to the others on Hawley’s list. But she also knew that sex offenders re-offended. And that put Hawley’s theory in a whole new light. Something else Danaher said pushed its way through to the surface. Blair had been alive when the photo was taken.

  What if she was still alive in the space with the black bucket?

  A hundred thoughts cascaded through her brain, all vying for attention. She sat still, letting them settle, waiting for the important ones to float to the top of the pile.

  She looked up as Woakes sauntered into the squad room. It annoyed her. He’d become an unnecessary distraction from her process. She saw him ask a question, Khosa answering, Holder not looking up from his PC. Woakes frowning, turning his eyes towards her.

  Anna got up and opened her door.

  ‘Dave, a word.’

  Woakes walked in, unsmiling, defiant. He sat, so did Anna. But not before closing the door with a touch more force than was necessary. She waited several reasonable seconds for a benefit-of-the-doubt beat. Woakes said nothing.

  ‘Anything useful from the original SIO?’

  ‘Nada.’

  Anna nodded. She got up and walked into the squad room. ‘Operational briefing, people. Trisha, I’ve sent you an image. Can you get it printed off for me, please?’

  Everyone gathered around the whiteboard. Anna did all the talking. ‘I’ve just had Edinburgh on the phone. They’ve found an image of Blair Smeaton which bears similarities to the one of Rosie Dawson.’

  Trisha came through and handed over a 10 by 6 print. Anna stuck it to the board. ‘It has the PPV caption as well.’ She tapped the photo. ‘#crypto we know about; #pogo is anyone’s guess. Maybe it’s what he calls himself. But here’s the thing. The bucket in this corner looks identical to the one in Rosie’s image.’

  ‘Oh my God,’ Khosa said. ‘Does this mean Hawley’s right?’

  Woakes said, ‘Oh, come on. It’s a black bucket. There’s nothing here to prove Hawley’s theory’s correct.’

  ‘No, I agree and so do the team up in Edinburgh,’ Anna said. But it wasn’t what she believed. Her gut was telling her something altogether different, but she let the team air their doubts. She turned to look at the second board, posted with images of Hawley’s victim list.

  ‘Edinburgh are also looking at the possibility the images are linked. That we might be looking at a paedophile ring.’ She threw it out there, waiting for someone to bite.

  ‘But you don’t?’ Khosa asked.

  Anna paused before saying, ‘What if it is the same bucket? The same place. What if it is, despite the different MOs, the same man? Someone who’s deliberately chosen to vary his method to confuse us?’

  No one spoke.

  ‘Let it simmer while I speak to the super about… things.’

  * * *

  Rainsford was in his show-home office. He looked up and read her expression.

  ‘Problems?’

  She told him about the Morton fiasco and then explained about Hawley and didn’t pull any punches about whose fault this was.

  ‘I think I need a word with Sergeant Woakes,’ Rainsford said.

  Anna nodded. ‘But there is some good news, sir.’

  ‘Is there?’

  She’d un-stuck the images of Rosie and Blair from the whiteboard and laid them no
w on Rainsford’s desk while she explained the reasoning behind the link between them.

  He listened without interruption, his eyes on the prints until she’d finished. When he looked up they were animated. ‘This could be a major breakthrough. And not only for your cold case.’

  Anna nodded. ‘Police Scotland and our people are looking for other images.’

  ‘But there’s something else brewing, isn’t there?’

  Anna smiled. Rainsford could read her like a book.

  ‘Hawley, sir. I can’t help thinking he’s on to something. He’s been very cooperative.’

  ‘Or he’s been caught out. How kosher is he?’

  Anna shrugged. ‘Difficult to say. Either way, sir, I think he may still be useful.’

  ‘What are you suggesting? A warrant? A fresh look at his computers and ISP history?’

  ‘It’s a thought. It might come to that. And we need to eliminate him from involvement on the day Blair Smeaton went missing. I can’t believe he was anywhere near, and I’ve a feeling he’d offer us his laptop if we asked for it. But I’d prefer the soft approach for now. If he knows anything, we won’t get him to give it up by using thumbscrews the Dave Woakes way. If there is something to Hawley’s theory, it’s something I need to understand a little better. How would any of these kids’ illnesses be of use to a perpetrator?’

  Rainsford kept his gaze steady. ‘Be careful, Anna. You know how plausible these bastards can be.’

  The cursing took her by surprise. Not because of the word itself, but by how heartfelt it had been. She knew instantly what he was alluding to. Both she and Holder had been taken in by Charles Willis, the Woodsman. He’d been friendly and approachable and had almost ended up killing her.

  ‘Once bitten, sir,’ Anna said with an acerbic smile.

  Rainsford nodded and sat back, pensive. After a while, he handed the images back to Anna. ‘How was your visit to Shaw?’

  Anna shrugged. ‘I’ll have the report on your desk by tomorrow, sir. He’s still adamant he didn’t attack Tanya Cromer. Claims he fought off Petran and that Petran’s real name is Krastev. He’s offered to show me another one of Krastev’s victims, this time in Sussex.’

  Rainsford stayed silent for a moment but then asked, ‘Do you want me to set it up?’

  Anna nodded. ‘I thought we’d get Krastev’s ID confirmed first.’

  Rainsford nodded. ‘Send Woakes in.’

  Anna went back to the office. On her way she paused at where Woakes was sitting at his desk.

  ‘Dave, the super wants to see you.’

  ‘Me?’

  Anna nodded. Either he was good at feigning surprise, or it was genuine, in which case she was prepared to label him a complete sociopath there and then.

  Sighing, he pushed his chair away, grabbed his jacket and headed for Rainsford’s office.

  Anna waited until he’d left the room before entering her office.

  Trisha had left a note on her desk.

  Witness Kevin Starkey rang, left number. Free now for two hours.

  Anna dialled the number.

  ‘Mr Starkey, this is Detective Inspector Gwynne from Avon and Somerset. Thanks for ringing back.’

  The slight delay and static hum told her he was in a car. ‘Yes, inspector, what can I do for you?’

  ‘I hear you were in the job, once?’

  Starkey laughed. ‘Long time ago, ma’am. I joined quite late but I’ve been out of it for four years. We moved and I couldn’t spare the sixteen hours a month because of my job and I wouldn’t pass the bleep test now unless you stuck a lit firework where the sun doesn’t shine.’

  ‘This is about the Rosie Dawson case. I realise it’s been a while, but you gave a statement about a van you saw on the day she was abducted. I wanted to check if you’d thought of anything else that might be useful.’

  ‘No, I’m afraid not. I’ve thought about it a lot, obviously. And I’ve kept an eye out for that van every time I get in the car. But I gave everything I knew to the team at the time.’

  ‘You were coming off the motorway when you saw the van, am I right?’

  ‘Yeah. Coming off the motorway at the Hither Green roundabout. I was on a half shift at the station that evening, six to eleven. My normal employers were good about letting me leave early from work when I had a Specials shift to go to. That gave me time to get home, change into my uniform and get some food. The van had pulled way out over the junction and cars ahead had stopped to let it out, that’s why I remembered it. The driver had pulled out at Padmore Road.’

  ‘Heading back towards the roundabout?’

  ‘Yeah, that’s it.’

  ‘You don’t know if he got on to the motorway?’

  ‘I’d long gone in the other direction by then.’

  ‘And you said,’ Anna scanned the report, ‘it was a post office van?’

  ‘Yeah. White rear doors but everything else red. Looked like a converted PO van to me. No logo but then they take that off for resale. Definitely a Vauxhall combo though.’

  ‘The other witnesses said they’d seen the abductor get in to a white van.’

  ‘From the back, it would look that way. As I said, my theory is that the van had been pranged and they’d replaced the rear doors. Two hours later I was on the search team. If only I’d known, I’d have looked at the plates.’ Starkey sounded genuinely regretful. ‘It was unusual, and I’ve not seen anything like it around these parts or elsewhere. And I drive a lot.’

  ‘Looks like the team spent a lot of time looking for Vauxhall combos afterwards, but they found nothing.’

  ‘I think he went to ground ma’am. There was no CCTV footage but I arrived at exactly the time he would have been at that junction, according to the other witnesses’s sightings.’

  ‘Okay. You have our number if you can think of anything else. No matter how small or irrelevant you think it is, okay?’

  ‘So, you’re reopening the case, I take it?’

  ‘It never really closed. We’re taking a fresh look.’

  ‘Best of luck, ma’am.’

  ‘No thoughts of coming back, Kevin?’

  Starkey laughed. ‘It’s a young man’s job. I’m well past it.’

  He rang off and Anna put an asterisk next to his name on the file to indicate she’d made contact. Ah well, she’d expected nothing else.

  Sighing, she asked Trisha for copies of Blair’s image and took it in to her office and placed it next to Rosie’s. She stared at them, willing them to give her more information than was obvious from the brutal reality of the girls’ prisons. Rainsford was right, it was a breakthrough of sorts, but even so, she felt helpless and lost. Nothing here gave any tangible clue as to where they were taken, and yet there were obvious similarities. There needed to be more. It was rare for a cold case to gather traction so quickly and Anna felt the urge to run with it rather than let it run away from her. But to do so she’d need to take a few risks.

  Or one big one.

  She hadn’t been entirely straight with Rainsford. Trisha had handed her the sheet from Europol on Krastev that morning. It made for unpleasant reading and confirmed what Holder had told her on the way home from visiting Shaw.

  Boyen Krastev AKA Mihai Petran

  Height: 181 cm

  DOB: 30/05/1965

  Nationality: Bulgarian

  Wanted for Aggravate trafficking in human beings, rape, grievous bodily harm, kidnapping. Forgery of administrative documents, participation in a criminal organisation.

  The list of offences read oddly, the charges unfamiliar and a little archaic to Anna. But it was the next paragraph that made her cringe.

  While on detention, Krastev failed to turn up to court and his whereabouts after that are unknown.

  They now knew to where he’d escaped. And they also knew his whereabouts. The DNA confirmation would take a while but hopefully it was only a question of matching results from Petran with what Europol had on Krastev and, since Petran’s body was found o
n another force’s patch, North Wales organised crime unit was doing all that. Trisha, she knew, was keeping tabs on developments.

  Anna felt no reason to doubt what Shaw had told her. There could be no reason, either, to delay letting Rainsford arrange for Shaw to take her to Sussex – other than her own reluctance. But an idea had begun tumbling over in her mind; gathering pace with each revolution, an idea which would mean another visit to Shaw before she’d allow him to unearth another of his grisly prizes. And that was definitely something she would not tell Rainsford about yet.

  Quickly, she gathered up what was on her desk and left her office.

  ‘I’m off to tie up a few loose ends,’ she said to Trisha on her way out. ‘Oh, and when he emerges from the super’s office, tell Sergeant Woakes he’s got the afternoon off.’

  Trisha smiled. ‘With pleasure ma’am.’

  Twenty-Three

  Blair ate some bread and drank some water. She had no idea what time it was, but she was beginning to feel sleepy. She didn’t want to climb back into the hole to sleep, but if the dog man came she might not wake up in time to hide in there. She made herself remember the last time he’d come. The door made a lot of noise and he moved really slowly. She decided there would be time.

  She arranged the two duvets into a makeshift bed. One to lie on and one to cover her, though it was warm enough in the cave to lie on top of both. In her bedroom at home, the one she shared with Kirsty, she sometimes slept without a cover in the summer. They’d had bunk beds for ages, but Kirsty’d got a new bed under all her posters on the other side of the room. Blair hadn’t minded because she slept on the top bunk now and all her animals slept on the bottom: a purple dolphin called Duane, a fat green snake called Monty, loads of ponies, each with different hair colour, and a brown and white dog mum won in a raffle. Bernard was huge and lovely to cuddle.

  And then there was mum… She missed mum. Even when she’d had a bottle of wine that always made her all red in the face, like she’d just run around the estate, she was still mum.