The Keeper

by Diane Saxon

  ‘Did you bring me anything?’

  He snorted. ‘Nah, you’re off soon. Won’t Fliss have something ready for you?’

  Doubtful, but they had microwave meals.

  Jenna flicked through the photos and discarded three of them, showing them to Mason. ‘Too young.’

  Mason nodded his agreement.

  ‘Fliss placed her kidnapper as older than those three.’ She put another two in the discard pile. ‘There’s no way they were capable of kidnapping Fliss, let alone tossing her over their shoulders and walking the two hundred metres or so to the car park.’

  ‘I’m going to tell her you said so.’

  ‘Do, and you die.’

  ‘Then you’d have to arrest yourself.’

  ‘No one would blame me, I’d probably be congratulated.’ She turned back to the photographs, bumped the heel of her hand against her forehead as she stared at the next one. ‘Does he look familiar to you?

  ‘Yeah, nasty piece of shit.’ Mason slipped the photograph from her fingers. ‘He beat his mum black and blue, put her in hospital when she refused to give him the last of her pension money so he could buy a packet of cigarettes.’

  Jenna glazed her eyes until they went out of focus and the image blurred in front of her. ‘Fliss said the guy wore dark-rimmed glasses. Thick lenses so his eyes appeared piggy behind them. She was very clear about that.’ She tossed the image on the desk in front of Mason. ‘This guy doesn’t wear glasses.’ She let out a long sigh. ‘It’ll be worth interviewing him. He’s the right height, fits the weight parameters and his face matches Fliss’s description closer than most of the others.’

  ‘No glasses.’

  ‘Contact lenses?’

  He nodded.

  She set another one aside. ‘He’s serving time at Her Majesty’s leisure.’

  She stared at the last two. Not much joy there either.

  Mason tapped his finger on the first one. ‘He no longer lives in the area.’

  Jenna pushed the second one in front of him. ‘Last I heard, he’d found God and spends most of his time helping the homeless.’ She gazed at his picture a moment longer, then placed it on her ‘maybe’ pile. You could never be certain someone had truly turned that corner in life. She scribbled down his name. She’d pass him on to Salter and Wainwright to investigate.

  Jenna reached for her coffee, took a sip and pulled a face. It didn’t even have the decency to be tepid. She grimaced again and shot a quick glance at the wall clock in the comms room. After 19:00. already and she’d promised Fliss she wouldn’t be late home. Jesus, where had the time gone?

  She flicked her gaze around the room as Donna McGuire’s softly spoken words reached her ears.

  ‘So, a guy as good looking as you, you must be married.’

  Startled by the other woman’s frankness, Jenna tuned in to Adrian’s low reply.

  ‘I am indeed.’

  Jenna’s gaze clashed with Mason’s as she whipped her head back around. Ignoring his inquisitive stare, she flung him a tight smile. It was none of her business. None of Mason’s.

  ‘I need to get home.’

  She pushed up from the desk just as Donna wandered towards her. ‘Hey, Sarg, how’re things going?’

  ‘They could be better.’ With a vague sense of disappointment, Jenna closed the avenue her mind wanted to wander down and thought instead of her sister safe at home with Domino to keep her company and a police officer posted outside. ‘They could be worse.’ She glanced at the clock again and then back at Donna. ‘I thought you were on shift at my place tonight?’

  Donna shrugged. ‘I thought so too but it looks like Matt Dingles is down to cover.’

  ‘Matt? I thought Matt was off sick.’

  ‘Is he? I don’t know. I just checked the duty rota because I thought I was there today, but it definitely says Matt’s covering.’

  With a curl of unease, Jenna glanced around. The DI was no longer in the office. She picked up her Airwaves radio and called person to person. ‘DI Taylor?’

  ‘Sergeant?’

  ‘Can you tell me who is on duty at my house now?’

  ‘Certainly, Jenna. It’s Donna.’

  Jenna met Donna’s wide-eyed stare.

  ‘No. Donna’s with me in the incident room. She says the rota has Matt Dingles down for this evening.’

  ‘Matt Dingles is off sick.’

  Jenna nodded, the twist of doubt tightening her stomach. ‘That’s what I thought. Can you check the rota?’

  Through the long silence, Jenna kept her gaze on Donna.

  ‘Jenna.’ The radio hissed back at her. ‘Some idiot’s changed it. Just wait until I find out who. I’ll have their guts for garters.’

  The sliver of panic rose to her throat to tighten it. ‘Sir. Who is currently with my sister?’

  ‘John Sivitar was on until18:00 hours. Bear with me a moment.’

  Airwaves clicked off as he changed channel and Jenna’s adrenaline kicked up a notch while Donna stood beside her, transferring her weight from foot to foot as though she were about to take off on a marathon.

  The radio shot to life again. ‘Jenna, John left at 18:00 on the dot. He signed off from your house as he has an appointment this evening. We all assumed Donna would be there.’

  ‘It’s 19:10 now, Sir. Fliss hasn’t phoned to say no one has turned up.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’ Donna’s soft whisper drew Jenna’s attention. ‘I’m so sorry.’

  Jenna shook her head and spoke back into the radio. ‘Sir, Donna and I are going straight around to my house now. I’ll check in when we get there.’

  ‘Acknowledged.’

  She swiped up her mobile, her fingers not quite steady, and checked the last call. The unidentified number. She hesitated for a long moment, a feeling of unease winding through her stomach. The last time she’d ignored a call it had been her sister in trouble. She could have been there so much sooner if only she’d answered the damned call. She could have saved her sister.

  Frank had said a kid or a heavy breather. She considered the number for a long moment before she stabbed her finger on the call-back button. She could always block them if it turned out to be some prankster. Get their number traced. More likely it was that dick, Kim Stafford, trying to wheedle information out of her.

  Jenna waited for six rings and was about to hang up when the phone was answered. As Frank had said, a breather. Not a heavy breather though, just soft, hesitant breathing as though someone was waiting for her to speak.

  Jenna lowered the tone of her voice to give it a kick of authority. ‘DS Morgan here. Identify yourself.’

  ‘Jenna?’ The tremor in her sister’s voice pulled her to a stop halfway to the door.

  ‘Fliss?’

  ‘It was him. I’m sure it was him.’ The hiccupping sob on the other end of the phone stopped Jenna’s heart dead in its tracks.

  Confused, Jenna ran a distracted hand through her thick hair, irritated when it flopped back against her forehead. ‘Fliss? Fliss! What’s going on?’

  ‘It was him, Jenna. I swear it was his voice.’ Breathless, Fliss could barely be heard above the soft crackling background noise.

  ‘Stop! Felicity Morgan, I cannot understand you. Stop crying and explain because I have no idea what you’re saying.’ Aware of the sharpness of her tone, Jenna glanced around as a few heads lifted and eyebrows raised. She used her mum’s voice. A tactic her mum always employed if the girls were upset. It settled them, made them respond. Jenna only hoped it would work for her.

  The long breath on the other end of the line shuddered to a halt until her sister’s disembodied voice came across the line. ‘The man who answered your phone. Who was it?’

  Jenna took a moment to comprehend. ‘Frank. Frank Bartwell, our intel analyst.’

  Fliss’s voice whispered from the phone. ‘Is he still there?’

  Jenna glanced around the room even though she already knew the answer. His shift had finished at 18:00 hours. Sh
e’d seen him go. ‘No.’ With studied patience, she questioned her sister. ‘Fliss? What’s going on?’

  Hoarse with fear, her sister’s voice rasped down the phone. ‘It’s him. Jenna, he sounded just like the man who took me.’

  Disbelief held Jenna paralysed, her brain unable to comprehend what she’d heard. ‘What?’

  ‘I’m sure.’ A thread of doubt licked into her voice. ‘The man who answered your phone sounds just like the guy who took me.’

  As her legs weakened, Jenna slipped into a chair, putting her fingers against her forehead, aware of Donna’s intense scrutiny and Mason’s puzzled frown as he moved in closer. Adrian came to his feet and made his way over the room towards her.

  ‘Fliss, where are you?’

  ‘At home.’

  ‘Whose phone is this?’

  ‘Mine. My new one. That’s why I was phoning you. I had it delivered today and I wanted you to know the number… and then he answered. I was too scared to phone you back in case he picked up again. I didn’t know what had happened to your phone. I called Mason, but his phone kicked to answerphone.’

  Jenna’s gaze clashed with Mason’s. ‘Who’s with you now, Fliss?’

  ‘John left a while ago. I thought Donna was due, but she’s not here yet.’ There was a moment’s silence. ‘There’s no police car outside either.’

  Jenna shot to her feet, her limbs moved slow and dreamlike as though she was stepping through thick treacle. She made her way to the door, conscious of a trail of people following her.

  Trying not to panic her sister, Jenna kept her voice flat. ‘Fliss. Check the doors are all locked. I’m on my way.’

  ‘They’re always locked.’

  ‘Good. Check them just in case. Go to the bathroom. Take Domino with you. Lock yourself in.’

  ‘Jenna, you’re scaring me. Why are you scaring me?’

  ‘I’m just being cautious.’ Her feet were now racing as she dashed through the rabbit-warren hallway. ‘What did you say to Frank?’

  ‘Nothing. I said nothing.’

  ‘But you made a noise. Did you say anything?’

  Fliss’s soft intake of breath sighed down the phone. ‘Your name. I whispered your name.’

  ‘Fliss I’m on my way. I need to hang up now, but I’ll be there shortly.’ She whipped through to her office, signed out the keys for a police issue vehicle and headed for the stairs.

  ‘Don’t hang up, Jenna. I’m scared. Don’t hang up.’

  ‘I’ll be there. I need back up. Hold on.’

  Jenna lifted her Airwaves radio to her mouth. ‘Juliette Alpha 76. Control, has Frank Bartwell left the building?’

  ‘Signed off shift almost an hour ago Juliette Alpha 76. Looks like you’ve missed him.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  Jenna fumbled with her mobile. ‘I’m still here Fliss. Hang on.’ Mouth to Airwaves, she called DI Taylor person-to-person again. ‘Sir, DS Morgan here. I have my sister on the phone. This may quite honestly sound mad, but Frank Bartwell just answered my phone to her.’

  ‘Bartwell?’

  ‘Yeah, the intel analyst.’

  ‘I know who he is. And…?’

  ‘And, sorry about this, but Fliss tells me that Frank sounds like the guy who kidnapped her.’ Coming from her mouth, it sounded stupid.

  Static crackled through the momentary silence. ‘What the hell are you talking about?’

  ‘Frank Bartwell answered my phone, sir. Fliss was on the other end.’ She panted as she trotted down the stairwell, past the front counter, aware that every step was being dogged by Donna, Adrian and Mason. ‘Fliss believes Frank is her kidnapper.’ Jenna flung open the station door and headed for her vehicle, Donna hot on her heels.

  Calm and patient, DI Taylor’s voice came over the Airwaves. ‘Jenna, how can you be sure? Your sister has undergone a huge trauma. You need to slow down.’

  ‘I need to be home right now, sir. I’m going home, and I’d appreciate back-up.’

  ‘Jenna, hold on. Take a step back a moment.’

  ‘I can’t.’ She wrenched open the car door and flung herself into the front seat. ‘He has to know she recognised his voice.’

  Donna flopped onto the passenger seat next to her, whipping the seat belt around her and slamming the buckle into the housing.

  ‘DS Morgan. Frank Bartwell is the least likely person to be a kidnapper…’ He paused for a long moment as the impact of what she’d told him processed. ‘Or killer.’

  Frustrated, she ground her teeth. ‘It’s always the fucking least likely.’ She’d pushed too far, swearing at him on a recorded line.

  Silence followed, then Airwaves crackled to life.

  ‘DS Morgan. Go with your gut. You have my backing. I’ll arrange for DC Ellis to meet you at your house.’

  She glanced in her rear view mirror at the back seat. ‘He’s with me, sir. As is PC McGuire.’ She glanced at the vehicle behind her and swore blind she saw Ryan leap into the passenger seat of Adrian’s Land Rover.

  Jenna clenched her jaw while she considered. Was she letting Fliss’s panic get to her? Were they both overreacting?

  She raised her mobile to her ear. ‘Fliss, I’ll be there shortly. Don’t open the door to anyone. You hear me? Not anyone.’

  ‘What about Donna?’

  She glanced across at the calm determination on the other woman’s face. ‘Donna’s with me. We’ll be fifteen minutes. Do not open the door. Go to the bathroom. I have a key to let myself in.’

  ‘Okay.’

  The quietness of her sister’s voice unnerved her. ‘I won’t be long. I promise.’

  ‘I’ll see you soon.’

  41

  Thursday 1 November, 19:15 hrs

  The soft sound of Drivetime on the radio murmured through from the kitchen radio. Jenna would be home soon. With a quick flutter of her heart, Fliss checked the lock on the front door, just as she had at the back door, and then moved into the sitting room. Breathing through her panic, she cast a quick glance around. She’d already closed the curtains when darkness dropped at around 4.30 p.m. It didn’t make her feel any safer, just claustrophobic.

  On fluffy, pink-slippered feet, she stole to the front window and pushed aside the cream brocade curtains to scan outside.

  With soft pants, Fliss got a grip on her fear and wrestled it back down. She was home. She was safe.

  Nothing moved, not even the neighbour’s cat made an appearance. She dropped the curtain back into place and stepped back.

  She drew slow, measured breaths in through her teeth. Jenna wouldn’t be long now.

  Flames licked up from the teepee of wood Fliss had stacked in the wood burner. By the time Jenna arrived, it would be a roaring inferno. Jenna always told her off for putting too much wood on, but she’d appreciate the comfort tonight.

  Just as Domino did.

  His tail gave a lazy thump against the soft cushion of the pale grey sofa. Funny how Jenna hadn’t made a single objection to him climbing on the furniture since his misadventure.

  Fliss paused beside him to scratch his ear, her heart pounding so hard she could barely hear anything above the raging torrent of noise in her head. To console herself and him, Fliss spoke out loud. ‘Jenna’s on her way home, lad. She’ll be fifteen minutes. Just fifteen minutes.’ She peered at the screen on her mobile. Only three minutes since she’d spoken with her sister.

  Her throat clenched in a tight fist, so constricted she could barely swallow never mind murmur sweet endearments to Domino. ‘Come on lad, let’s go upstairs.’ Into the bathroom where she could sit on the floor and hold onto Domino behind a locked door until Jenna arrived.

  She squeezed her eyes shut. What if she was wrong? Jenna would kill her for wasting her time. Wasting police time. Accusing some poor man. Worse still, she’d send her to a bloody psychiatrist for imagining things.

  But she hadn’t imagined it.

  His soft, whiney voice curled through her memory and shot wild panic through h
er veins.

  She breathed in through her nose. It was okay. Everything was going to be okay. Jenna was on her way. She knew who the man was. She’d have him arrested.

  Domino came reluctantly to his feet while Fliss’s gaze was drawn back to the wood burner and the small set of iron fenders next to it. With an instinct borne of fear, she reached over with her right hand and selected the short-handled poker. Rather than hold it by the end, she gripped it in the middle. When Jenna arrived, she’d think she was a damned ninja.

  Heart thrumming in her chest, she ushered Domino to the stairs and checked the front door again before she touched his rump with the side of the poker to encourage his slow progress up. The long, metallic zipper on his side oscillated as he climbed upwards. Another two days and the vet would remove the staples, leaving a deep scar she hoped would be covered eventually by his fur.

  Fliss followed him, breath sticking in her lungs.

  Jenna had said go to the bathroom, lock the door. She’d be ten minutes now. Only ten. White noise consumed Fliss’s hearing as she mounted the stairs one slow step at a time behind Domino.

  Halfway up, Fliss froze at the rattle of keys in the front door as Domino stopped mid-step, a low growl rumbling through his deep chest. She glanced at the time again. Only five minutes since Jenna had said she was on her way. Even Jenna’s wild driving couldn’t get her there in that time.

  Convinced it wasn’t Jenna, Fliss turned her head so she looked directly at the front door as the man stepped through it, his hollow eyes tracking up the stairs until he met her gaze.

  The air wedged in her throat as Fliss drew in snatches of breath.

  ‘Oh, Felicity.’ His brows drew down over the thick frame of his glasses. ‘You disappoint me.’

  The man pushed the door to and leaned against it until it clicked closed, a sickly-sweet smile on his face.

  Domino’s deep, guttural growl snapped her out of her trance, and she turned to scramble up the stairs, pushing Domino before her.

  Fear propelled her upwards.

  On her before she could even draw breath, the man snatched at her ankle, fingers digging deep into her flesh, and she slammed face first into the stairs, her cheek going numb. White-hot pain shot through her fingers, sending black spots to cloud her vision. Terror gripped her as she yowled in agony, scrabbling up another step, fingers around the thin poker gouging at the carpet to gain traction.