He Knows Your Secrets

by Charlie Gallagher

  ‘Does it? I wish I could tell you what was behind that link. Or who. That’s another thing . . . I can’t tell you anything about who set that link up or is running the content behind the passcode. Sorry, Maddie.’

  ‘Oh, don’t worry about that, I’m pretty sure I know that part already. Proving it, however . . . I don’t suppose you can get details of any of the girls on the site we can see?’ Maddie said.

  ‘I can get screenshots of what they look like. The site also lists name, age and nationality — no promises of the accuracy, though. I can get you a document with them all listed but it’ll take a while.’

  ‘That would be great — if you’re sure you have the time? It might not take me any further. It’s a bit of a fishing trip, to be honest.’

  ‘Don’t worry. I’m sure I can fit in a few hours of watching strip shows, you know, if it’s essential for your work. I think I can isolate the feed so I will know only the girls your friend is supplying.’

  ‘That would be great. And try not to enjoy it too much, Rob. These girls are very likely being exploited.’ Maddie still managed a smile but there was an edge to her voice she couldn’t help.

  Rob’s expression turned serious. ‘Sorry, Maddie, I get that. Good luck with getting this bastard.’

  Maddie felt a vibration in her pocket where her phone was going off. She pulled it out just in time for its chirp to fill the room. She silenced it.

  ‘Thanks again for your time.’

  ‘No problem. I’ll put it all in a summary document, just in case anyone does ask me why I was sat watching a strip show over my lunch. I’ll have to put you down as the OIC and send you a copy. Protocol.’

  ‘Perfect. Thank you.’

  ‘What about Harry? I usually just send things to you both now?’

  ‘No!’ Maddie was aware she was a little too keen. She came back softer. ‘No need. He’s got other bits going on. This is something I’m running.’

  Rob smiled and tapped his nose. ‘I get it. Every couple has their rough patches. No problem.’ His grin was back. Maddie turned her attention to her phone and saw she had silenced a call from Vince. She pressed to call him back. The phone held to her ear was the perfect way to signal that she had to leave.

  Vince’s voice boomed down the phone immediately. ‘Seems they finally got scared enough to call Big Vince!’

  Maddie moved the handset away from her ear to scowl at it and turn it down a couple of notches.

  ‘What? Who?’

  ‘Big Vince. I’m in their book, remember? If in doubt, call Big Vince. He’s the good guy.’ Vince chuckled but he sounded tense.

  ‘Who called?’

  ‘She didn’t say her name, just that she was from the house on London Road. She said she had called the number from the book. Said she knew I was a copper and was insistent it was all off record. Then she said that Marlie was missing and that they were all worried about her. I didn’t tell her that I knew that already.’

  ‘You didn’t mention the girl we spoke to?’

  ‘No and nor did she. I didn’t want to stitch her up. This was a different girl. She sounded terrified — like proper scared. Whatever’s going on down there, they’ve all got a bad feeling about it.’

  ‘She said that?’

  ‘Pretty much. It was frustrating, Mads. She called me up to say they needed help but she weren’t about to give me anything that I could use. She only wanted to talk about one thing, really.’

  ‘What was that?’

  ‘Kelly Dale. She said I needed to speak to her. That was all she would say. That ain’t someone I’ve heard of. I was just calling to see if that name had come up with you yet?’

  ‘Dale? Someone else told me about a Kelly but they didn’t have a surname. It must be the same! Did this girl say anything more about this Kelly Dale? Like how we might get to speak to her?’

  ‘They don’t know where she lives. The girl said this Kelly has just lost her mum apparently, like in the last day or so. She also said that Marlie went to see her and that this Kelly’s scared — really scared. Apparently she don’t like to go home. Someone else from the house has seen her hanging about any place she can in the evening so she don’t have to.’

  ‘What else?’

  ‘Nothing from her but I got the FCR to put Kelly Dale through PNC. She’s not known to us. The bloke doing the checks didn’t sound like he knew what he was doing, though. I was going to have a look myself when I got back in.’

  ‘Don’t worry, I’m still at the nick now. I’ll have a look. Did this girl tell you where she’s been seen hanging about?’

  ‘I asked her that. She just said the town ‘til late. I guess there won’t be too many places that are open. You probably wouldn’t hang in the pubs . . . there’s a bingo hall and a twenty-four-seven McDonald’s or she might just be finding a bench. No guarantee she goes there every night either.’

  ‘When are there ever guarantees in policing? Where are you now? I could do with using your desk.’

  ‘My desk? You know I work response, right Mads? I don’t get no desk. I can see if there’s one spare in the report writing room. Why can’t we use the nice big space you got up in Major Crime? There’s normally a cup of tea up there too!’

  ‘Not right now. The boss . . . he doesn’t want me working on this at the moment. I just want to stay out of his way until we know what we’ve got. In case it’s nothing.’

  ‘It didn’t feel like nothing, Mads. This girl was proper scared.’

  ‘So you said. But Harry’s going to need something more solid than a scared voice on a phone.’

  ‘Alright then, let’s see what else we can get. I’m worried, too, Mads. Don’t get me wrong, Marlie’s a tough old bird. But she’s got her girls scampering around and calling the Old Bill. Even off the record they don’t do that lightly.’

  ‘I know that. Call me when you’re back in. This Kelly Dale has all the answers for us, Vince. I’m sure of it.’

  Chapter 27

  Wendy Battle’s expression and demeanour was not what Rhiannon had been expecting. She had called Rhiannon directly just an hour or so earlier to say that her daughter had returned. Libby Battle’s missing episode had been assigned to her uniform colleagues but she was glad Wendy had called her first. Rhiannon was still dealing with the assault on her boyfriend, an investigation that was going nowhere right now and this would be a good excuse to go back over that.

  ‘I’m so glad you came!’ Wendy breathed. She stepped back and her front door opened wider. Rhiannon could see the same carpeted steps behind her that she knew led up to Libby’s bedroom. There was no sign of Libby herself. Wendy was furtive. She half turned towards the stairs then changed her mind. Then she started to speak but seemed to stumble over what she was going to say.

  ‘Is everything okay, Mrs Battle? You said Libby had returned home. Is she okay?’

  ‘She’s not okay!’ Wendy’s voice came out like a rushed breath, her face creased with it like a silent sob and Rhiannon had to give her a moment to recover.

  ‘Is she in her room?’ Rhiannon had ditched her chaperone to come out on her own this time. After her conversation with Maddie earlier, she felt like she had permission. Now she wished she hadn’t. She could do with a colleague to stay with Wendy while she went to speak with her daughter. Her mother had seemed keen on making a drama out of the situation from the moment they had met and this could only be counter-productive. As it happened, Rhiannon didn’t have to worry. Wendy was gesturing at the stairs. Rhiannon checked behind her when she was half way up. Wendy had stayed on the ground floor.

  ‘I’ll make some tea,’ she said. And then she was gone. Rhiannon’s sense of déjà vu was strong as she knocked on the door. This time however, she didn’t wait for a reply. She pushed the door open. There was instantly a scurrying sound to the right. Libby Battle was at her wardrobe, partly concealed by one of the open doors. A bundle of clothes spilled out of the bottom and onto her feet as she froze to stare at her vis
itor.

  ‘Hey,’ Rhiannon said. ‘I did knock.’ Libby’s gaze switched back to the wardrobe and her attention with it. More clothes tumbled out. Suddenly she stepped back and pushed the doors. They wouldn’t close right up; they still caught on the material hanging out of the bottom. She turned away with a handful of clothes, some dropping onto the floor as she piled the rest onto the bed. She reached down to pull a bag out from under.

  ‘Going somewhere?’ Rhiannon asked.

  Libby stopped what she was doing and turned half back. Rhiannon was expecting a volley from a petulant teenager, anger at least. But straight away she could see a face close to breaking. Her eyes were wide with a red rash underneath. She had been crying a lot. She was gripping her bottom lip in her teeth as if trying to hold it still. Rhiannon stepped further into the room and closed the door carefully behind her.

  ‘Maybe I can give you a lift somewhere?’ Rhiannon said.

  ‘No. Thank you.’ Libby spoke. She was packing. There was no care taken. The clothes she had bundled on her bed were now simply bundled into a bag.

  ‘You missed a sock.’ Rhiannon pointed at the floor with a grin.

  Libby scooped it up and didn’t return the smile.

  ‘I can help, you know. Sometimes we all need it.’ Rhiannon was careful with her words, desperate not to be condescending. She was sure Libby’s mother downstairs had that as her speciality.

  ‘Thank you,’ Libby said. She still wasn’t looking back over.

  ‘I can see you’re upset. I would really like to help.’

  ‘There’s nothing you can do.’ She stopped what she was doing. Her left hand stayed resting on top of the bag; her right gripped the zip that still hung open. For a moment she looked like she was considering her options. Rhiannon waited, trying to give her some space. Libby jerked back to life, she pulled the zip hastily across and threw the bag to the floor.

  ‘I have to go out,’ she said.

  ‘Okay. You were reported missing, your mother—’

  ‘I wasn’t missing. I told her that. I just can’t be here with her sometimes. You must understand that, surely.’

  ‘I do.’

  ‘Then I have to go out.’

  ‘When someone is reported missing we have a process. We like to talk to the person when they return. Just to make sure they didn’t come to any harm.’

  ‘I’m fine.’

  ‘Okay, Libby. But that’s an answer to a different question.’

  ‘I don’t have to answer your questions!’ The petulance had returned.

  ‘You’re right . . .’ Rhiannon said. Libby was a blur of movement now. She stomped across the floor and pulled a jacket roughly out of the wardrobe. The hanger came with it and clanged against the radiator as it dropped. Rhiannon waited for her moment. Then she spoke again. ‘He’s awake, by the way.’

  Libby stopped for just an instant, just long enough for Rhiannon to know she had heard her. Rhiannon waited her out. Thirty more seconds passed.

  ‘That’s good.’

  ‘It is. They think he’s going to be fine. I went to see him but I wasn’t allowed to be there for a long time. He asked after you.’

  ‘What did you tell him?’

  ‘I told him you were missing. He was very worried about you. He still will be.’

  ‘You should tell him I’m not missing anymore. Maybe tell him I never was. He knows what my mum’s like.’

  ‘Why don’t you come and tell him? I’ll take you. I need to speak to his consultant anyway. He wasn’t around earlier. James can’t remember much about that night. I wondered if getting you both together might help.’

  Libby had pulled on her jacket roughly and gathered up the handles on the bag, ready to leave. Now she flopped to a sitting position on the bed and she dropped the bag between her feet. ‘I can’t.’

  ‘Why not, Libby? Don’t you want to?’

  ‘I do!’

  ‘But you can’t?’

  ‘You wouldn’t understand.’

  ‘I don’t understand. Help me out. Did he do something to you? Something bad? You don’t have to protect him, you know. Maybe you told someone else what he did and they got hold of him? That wouldn’t be your fault. I just need answers, Libby. I’m sure you understand that.’

  ‘No! I told you, he dropped me back. He was fine. He would never hurt me. I never realised . . . how nice he was. I wish I’d stayed with him . . .’

  Rhiannon stiffened. Libby’s reaction was genuine enough to have her cursing mentally. Her best theory had just been blown out of the water.

  ‘Stay with him? What do you mean?’

  Libby picked up her bag and took a step towards where Rhiannon was in the way of the door.

  ‘I just mean something happened to him after he dropped me off. You told me that, didn’t you? If I had stayed with him I might have been able to help him out.’

  ‘Or maybe you would have been hurt too and lying in the hospital bed next to him? He still has some recovery. It’ll take time but he will recover. If there’s a still a threat towards you or him I can help.’

  ‘Are you going to let me past?’ Libby hadn’t looked Rhiannon in the eye the whole time she had been there. She did now. Her eyes were tinged red. She looked exhausted. Rhiannon stepped to one side for her to walk past but she turned to follow her down the stairs. Immediately her mother’s voice was shrill.

  ‘You’re leaving again? Where are you going? Are you going to let this happen?’ Libby made the bottom step and moved to the door. Her mother did her best to block it.

  ‘You’ve packed?’

  ‘I’m just going to the charity shop, Mum. I don’t want these clothes — any of them. I need to start again. Please . . .’ She was still looking at the floor.

  ‘Your clothes? You’re just getting rid of all your clothes? Why would you do that?’

  ‘Please Mum. Please . . .’

  ‘Well then, I’ll drive you.’ Wendy was plainly fighting to keep herself under control.

  ‘No. Please, just leave me alone. I’m fine, I just need some space.’

  ‘You’re sixteen years old, Libby. Of course I’m going to worry about you when you’re not here, when you don’t tell me what you’re doing, when your new phone’s switched off, when you’re ditching your clothes?’

  When Wendy didn’t get a reply she looked over to Rhiannon for an answer. Libby took the opportunity to tug open the door, it bounced into her mother’s hip but it was enough for Libby to squeeze through the gap.

  ‘You’re just going to let her leave?’ Wendy said to Rhiannon. ‘What did she say to you?’

  ‘I can’t stop her, Mrs Battle, she’s free to go.’

  ‘What can you do, then? Nothing at all from where I’m standing!’

  Wendy strode out of the door and stopped at the end of her drive. Rhiannon moved to stand next to her and both of them watched the tiny form of Libby walking off into the distance.

  ‘So what now if she doesn’t come back?’ Wendy snapped.

  ‘Then report her missing.’

  ‘Fat lot of good that will do. The last time I called I was told she needed to be missing for twenty-four hours! She’s sixteen years old and your lot would have her on the street for twenty-four hours?’

  ‘I understand, but sixteen-year-old girls go out, they need space. She came back, that’s a positive. If we hassle her too much she might stop doing that.’

  ‘And then what? You might start taking this seriously?’ Wendy Battle’s last word was a shriek. She turned quickly and Rhiannon watched her walk back into the house.

  Chapter 28

  Kelly leaned her weight forward onto her hands and felt the solid cold metal through her palms. She felt tired. Maybe it was the fact she was standing close to the door, close to where a ceiling heater was blowing warm, dry air downwards over double doors that were fixed permanently open. It had to be broken, surely; the evening was almost as warm as the day had been and certainly more humid. Over the last few weeks,
the late summer warmth had regularly been building during the day to conjure up storms in the evenings and the latest was a torrential rainstorm, with heightened winds as an accompaniment. She was dry at least.

  She turned away from the white noise of the beating rain to follow the smooth movement of mechanised arms as they slid in and out, cajoling the pile of two-pence pieces that hung over the edge with intentional promise. She glanced furtively at everyone who walked past. Any moment she was expecting the manager of the amusement arcade to come over and tell her that she had leant on that same machine for almost an hour, that she had barely spent anything and that she couldn’t just stay in there as a place to shelter from the rain.

  She looked down at her plastic pot. She had changed up enough two-pence pieces to just about cover the bottom and it needed to last. The employees all wore mustard-coloured polo shirts with their name written in red. One was not too far in front of her and visible through the smeared glass. She couldn’t see his face but, from the overhanging stomach, she knew it to be the same man who had spoken to her the previous night when she had also needed shelter from a brief rain shower. He had been friendly but it had been a warning and tonight the rain looked more set in. She pushed some coins into the machine as noisily as she could. There was nowhere else to go and she couldn’t go home. She couldn’t face even catching a sight of the bin area under her building or, even worse, sitting in her upturned flat waiting for the sound of bottles clinking against her door. She had slept at her mum’s the previous night, finally getting there at around 1am after spending an hour nursing a cup of coffee at a twenty-four-hour petrol station on the outskirts of the town. She didn’t want to go there either and it wasn’t just the painful memories of her mother and of happier times; she was sure Freddie Rickman’s sickly sweet aftershave still lingered, despite knowing that to be impossible. She couldn’t feel safe.

  ‘Penny for your thoughts!’ A woman had sidled up to her and was now dragging a stool to sit down at the next slot along. Kelly didn’t recognise her. She carried her own pot and it jangled as if it was a lot fuller than hers. She started feeding coins into the slot instantly. ‘Shit joke, right?’ the woman said. ‘Sorry. You just looked like you’ve got a lot on your mind.’