‘Where to?’
‘I don’t know the name of the place.’ Her gaze fell to her hands, which she twisted in her lap. ‘It was dark, and I’m not good at remembering stuff like that. It’s why I didn’t bother with school much.’
‘You went with him?’
‘Yes. So did Ethan.’ Shelley’s bottom lip trembled. ‘I figured if I was with him, I’d be safe.’
‘What happened?’
‘We went. We never came back.’
‘What do you mean?’
The woman turned to face her. ‘They kept us there. Indoors. Working all hours. I-I thought I was going to die there.’
Kay leaned back as the realisation hit her. ‘You were kept as slaves.’
‘Yes.’
‘But you got away. How?’
‘Ethan. He planned it. For years. Kept chipping away at it, trying to work out all the things that could go wrong. And then one night he came up to me and told me where to wait. Said that was it. We were going.’
‘What happened, Shelley? What went wrong?’
Tears spilled over the woman’s cheeks, and she wiped at them with the sleeve of her anorak. ‘I got away. He didn’t.’
‘Where was this, Shelley? Who was keeping you captive?’
Shelley’s head snapped around at a shout from the pedestrian bridge further down the towpath. Rising to her feet, she sniffed, and then looked down at Kay.
‘Shelley, where were they keeping you? What were you doing for them?’
‘I can’t stay here. I’ve got to go.’
‘Shelley, wait!’ Kay rose from the seat, but the woman was already running towards the towpath, her pace surprisingly quick. ‘Bloody hell.’
She watched as the woman disappeared from sight, and wondered how the hell she was going to explain what she had learned to Sharp.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Six hours later, Kay followed Sharp into a conference room that looked like it had been subjected to a tornado and was taking a while to recover from the shock.
‘Sorry,’ said Michelle, an administrative assistant who had met them at reception and shown them up the stairs and along a dingy corridor. ‘Traffic had a briefing in here this afternoon, and it ran over. We haven’t had time to tidy up yet.’
Kay noticed Sharp’s mouth narrow. Evidently his old military habits were being battened down for the sake of politeness, because he ran his gaze over the discarded cups, paper plates and screwed-up napkins and then forced a smile.
‘Not to worry, it happens,’ he said. ‘Do the others know we’re here?’
‘Yes, they won’t keep you long.’
She hurried from the room without a backwards glance, and Kay grinned.
‘If you fetch the wastepaper basket from under the window, I’ll make a start.’
‘You read my mind.’
‘I thought you were going to have a coronary.’
She rolled up her sleeves, swiped a couple of clean napkins from a dispenser next to a coffee urn on a table to the side of the room, and began to sweep crumbs from the conference table before lobbing them into the bin Sharp held out. While he tipped the leftover food and paper plates into it, she gathered up the discarded mugs and lined them up on the table, turning to survey their efforts.
‘Not bad.’ She turned her attention to the corridor at the sound of voices outside.
Sharp dropped the bin back under the window and grinned. ‘It’ll have to do – hopefully Michelle will sort out fresh supplies.’
Kay rolled her eyes. ‘I thought it was us lot who were understaffed at the moment, not the admin team as well.’
‘The cuts are hitting everyone. I heard they were having trouble getting temporary staff in to provide holiday cover this year, too.’
‘Jesus.’
She straightened her jacket as two men entered the conference room, Michelle behind them.
‘DCI Sharp, DI Hunter, this is Detective Sergeant Colin Maxwell from the Serious and Organised Crimes division, and PC Mark Weston from the Rural Task Force. I’ll leave you to sort yourselves out while I refill the coffee urn.’
Kay shook hands with the two men before they all took their seats, and Sharp opened the meeting.
‘Gents, thanks for coming at short notice.’
‘Not a problem,’ said Maxwell, easing back into his seat. ‘You mentioned on the phone you’ve got an investigation underway?’
‘Yes. We have an ongoing murder enquiry that, based on recent intelligence, suggests to us that we may have an active modern slavery problem that’s gone unnoticed for a number of years.’ He handed over photographs of Ethan Archer, as well as copies of Kay’s statement regarding her meeting with Shelley earlier that day and waited while Maxwell and Weston read through the details. ‘To date, we’ve ascertained that Archer was sleeping rough in the Sevenoaks area but also frequented Maidstone – especially in the colder months, as there was more access to shelters here. Three to four years ago, he disappeared without a trace and if we’re given to believe Shelley’s claims, both of them were coerced into forced labour at an agricultural establishment of some sort. Archer has a military background but was demobbed in ninety-nine.’
Kay unfolded a map of the area where Ethan’s body had been found and turned it so the two officers could see. ‘Archer’s body was discovered here, and we’ve spoken to three landowners to date: the farmer whose field Archer’s body was found in, and the two adjacent properties. We’ve currently got a search team working their way through the reservoir, here.’
‘At first, we thought Archer’s death might have something to do with his rescue of some women and children during the Kosovan war,’ said Sharp. ‘Retaliation by one of the warlords, perhaps.’
‘I was approached by someone – Shelley – out of the blue on Wednesday night, and met with her this morning. She was extremely nervous, but did state that Archer helped her to escape from their captors.’ Kay placed her hand on Ethan’s photograph. ‘According to Shelley, Archer didn’t make it. He was recaptured, and she suspected the worst.’
‘Does she know where they were being held?’ said Maxwell.
‘She says it was dark when they were picked up, and she can’t remember any names of places they passed through. Something spooked her while we were talking, and she took off before answering my questions about the location where they were held and the work they were doing. We’ve tasked our team with going around to all the shelters in the area to see if we can locate her.’
‘Do you think her life is in danger?’
‘Yes. Yes, I do. Her story corroborates the timeline we’ve got from other witnesses regarding Archer’s original disappearance, and she seemed frightened enough that she ran off when she heard someone shouting while I was talking to her – she’s very skittish.’
‘I don’t recall anything coming through on the Country Eye,’ said Weston, frowning.
‘Country Eye?’ said Sharp. ‘What’s that?’
Weston pulled his phone from his vest and spun it around on the desk until it faced Kay and Sharp, then tapped an app on the screen. ‘It’s an app we developed with some partner organisations so that people in rural areas can report suspicious activity and ongoing crimes. The staff who monitor the reports lodged on the app have been trained by Kent Police so that if anything gives them cause for concern, they can escalate it and we’ll investigate.’
‘And you’ve had nothing about an agricultural slavery gang?’ said Sharp.
‘No – a couple of car washes were reported recently but turned out to be legitimate, although lousy working conditions so they did receive a warning from one of the partner organisations, but nothing like a slavery gang.’
Sharp frowned. ‘Based on the location of Ethan’s body, I’m not inclined to think they were used by a nail bar or a car wash outfit. If they were kept hidden for over three years, then they’ve been kept out of sight and are working indoors––’
‘Or at night,’ said Weston.
‘How might the slavery gang have kept it from us finding out?’ said Kay.
Weston looked across to Maxwell, who gestured to him to continue.
‘Well, often it’s similar to any other slavery cases such as the nail bars. A gang might set up a business as a recruitment agency that looks legitimate on the outside, but then they use it to organise cheap labour.’
‘The farming industry is one of the high-risk areas we monitor on a regular basis,’ said Maxwell. ‘Especially around here – you’ve got seasonal workers coming from all over to work, and they’re desperate, so they’ll take the crap wages and working conditions. It’s a growing problem. We’re seeing a dramatic year-on-year increase for slavery in the food and farming industry.’
‘Which particular sectors are you seeing these cases in?’ said Sharp.
‘Fruit and vegetable picking, any of the animal production sectors,’ said the detective sergeant. ‘It used to be the case that we’d see a lot of Eastern European forced labour, but now we’re finding it’s people from the UK as well who are trapped in these circumstances, simply because they’re desperate for work and then it’s too late to get out. It’s more lucrative than drug trafficking, and more and more victims are British. We should have the same resources as a kidnapping case to combat the problem, but it just doesn’t happen.’
‘How does your team try to stop this happening?’ said Kay.
‘Often, it’s based on us being told,’ said Weston. ‘Certainly from the rural aspect, anyway – it’s harder to monitor what goes on in the countryside compared to urban areas.’
‘So, unless someone comes to you for help, you can’t do anything?’
‘Exactly,’ said Maxwell. ‘We’ve got our own intelligence officers working undercover, but you know what the budget cuts are like – we can’t be everywhere, and we’ve got limited resources to act on what information we do come across.’
Kay drummed her fingers on the desk for a moment, then glanced at Sharp. ‘What if I could persuade Shelley to talk to you, to tell you what she knows?’
‘That’s a start,’ said Maxwell. ‘You’d also need to widen the parameters of your investigation, if you don’t mind me saying so. You’d want to start looking at all the farms in the area, not just those close to where Archer’s body was found – including searches of the outbuildings.’
Sharp scratched his chin, and wrote in his notebook. ‘That’s going to take a considerable amount of time and manpower, Colin.’
‘I realise that, guv, but unless this Shelley person approaches DI Hunter again, I think it’s your best way forward. You don’t have any way of contacting her, do you?’
‘No.’ Kay sighed, then rolled her shoulders. ‘What happens if she does talk?’
‘We’d be able to put her in touch with one of the partner organisations to give her some support,’ said Maxwell. ‘Typically, that means a roof over her head for ninety days and a care worker to help her adjust and get back on her feet. It’s not much, but some of the charities are working with government organisations to try to offer a longer housing period. And, of course, we’d offer her protection while we work with you to prosecute the gang masters and bring them to trial.’
‘How successful have you been at trial?’ said Sharp.
‘Working with the Crown Prosecution Service, we reckon on a sixty-seven per cent conviction rate.’
‘We could use some help working this investigation to make sure we hit that percentile.’
‘Anything you need.’ Maxwell pointed at Ethan’s photograph. ‘Whoever did this to him deserves to be put away for a long time.’
Chapter Thirty
Gavin stepped to one side, held open the door for Laura and then followed her into the brightly lit community hall.
Food aromas mixed with the smell of damp clothes drying out, and the whole space thrummed with low voices in conversation.
Temporary beds had been laid out in lines along two walls, a screen separating the women from the men to allow a modicum of privacy, while bundles of sleeping bags, blankets and pillows were being gathered by volunteers from those beds whose occupants had already left the shelter for the day.
Laura paused next to a desk that had been set up near the door, a shocked expression crossing her features.
‘I didn’t realise it’d be so busy.’
‘This is only one of them,’ he said. ‘There are another two near the town centre. And it’s still winter – I’d imagine they’re going to be packed at night for a few weeks yet.’
‘You the police?’
Gavin turned to see a wiry man in his late forties eyeing them from the end of a camping bed, one boot on, the other poised ready and an unlit roll-up between his lips.
His features were cracked and lined, hardened by the winter chill, but his tone was light, interested.
‘We are. We were hoping to speak to one of the volunteers.’
The man shoved his foot in the boot and rose to his feet with a groan. He stretched, and jerked his chin towards the far end of the hall. ‘They’ll be serving breakfast for another half an hour or so.’
‘Ta.’
‘No problem.’ He bent down to pick up a battered sports bag and began to throw his belongings inside. ‘Someone in trouble?’
‘I hope not. We’re trying to find her to help her.’
‘Oh?’ The man paused, a paperback book in his hand, and raised an eyebrow. ‘Who?’
‘Shelley. Do you know her? Has a Liverpool accent. Mid-twenties.’
‘Rings a bell.’ The man tucked the cigarette behind his ear and stuck out his hand. ‘I’m Jeremy.’
‘Nice to meet you.’ Gavin introduced Laura, and then gestured to a cluster of tables near the desk where others were gathering with mugs of hot drinks. ‘Got a minute to have a chat?’
Jeremy grinned, exposing a missing upper tooth. ‘My schedule appears to be clear this morning, so why not?’
‘I’ll get the drinks,’ said Laura. ‘How’d you take yours?’
‘Milk, no sugar, love, thanks. Sweet enough already.’
Gavin waited while the man swept up the last of his clothes and zipped the bag before leading the way over to a table in the far corner, away from the rest of the people.
‘This a regular place for you to stay?’ he said as Jeremy sank onto the chair next to him.
‘Yeah. As long as you get here early in the evening, you can usually get a bed for the night.’ He winked. ‘They don’t take block bookings.’
‘Can I ask why you’re on the streets?’
‘Fell out with the missus.’ He shrugged. ‘I lost my business when the crash happened a few years ago. Slept in the car for a bit, then sold it ’cause I needed the money. It all went downhill from there.’
‘I’m sorry to hear that.’
‘It is what it is. I’m hoping to hear that I’m going to get a flat in the next few weeks. I’ve never been in trouble with you lot, so that works in my favour. Problem is, there are so many others who need a roof over their head. Women, children. Us blokes tend to have to wait.’
Gavin let his gaze wander over the heads of the groups sitting around the tables and spotted Laura at the far end of the hall, chatting to three volunteers who were manning the tea urns and doling out breakfasts.
‘Why’d you want to be a copper, anyway?’ said Jeremy.
‘My dad was one.’ He turned his attention back to the man. ‘Seemed like a good idea at the time.’
Jeremy cackled and slapped the table before pointing a finger at him. ‘I like you. So, what’s Shelley gone and done, then?’
‘How do you know her?’
‘Just in passing, you know?’ He waved his hand towards the expanse of the hall. ‘You get to know a few familiar faces coming to the shelters. In summer, it’s different. Some of the shelters aren’t open, so you have to make do. Anyway, I spotted her a couple of weeks ago. I think she stood out because she was new. Like she had no idea what to do
when she got here. Me and a couple of the women got her sorted out and signed up with a couple of the other charities, too, so she stands a good chance of getting a roof over her head at night.’
‘Did she say where she’d been?’
‘No, not really.’ Jeremy’s eyes softened. ‘It’s not like we’re friends. I mean, if someone doesn’t cause you any trouble then you look out for them. Doesn’t mean we hang out together, like the youngsters say.’
He broke off as Laura walked towards them and set three steaming mugs on the table before divvying them out.
‘Fabulous, lass. Cheers.’
‘No problem. Got you some biscuits, too.’ She grinned. ‘Can’t have tea without something to dunk in it.’
‘You’ll make someone a wonderful wife someday.’
‘Jeremy was telling me he’s seen Shelley a few times over the past couple of weeks,’ said Gavin. ‘Do you know what her surname is?’
‘No. Never asked. One of the others might know.’ The man craned his neck. ‘Can’t see them here, so they must’ve left for the day. I can ask them tonight, though if you like? If they come here, that is.’
‘That’d be great, thanks.’
Laura reached into her bag and pulled out the sketch of Ethan Archer. ‘Do you recognise this man?’
Jeremy took it from her, then frowned. ‘No, I’ve not seen him.’
‘We think he was around three or four years ago. He might’ve come into Maidstone.’
‘Ah, then no – I wasn’t on the streets back then. He in trouble as well?’
‘You could say that.’
Jeremy looked from Laura to Gavin, and then leaned back in his seat. ‘Oh. Like that, is it?’
‘Yes, unfortunately.’
‘Right.’ The man ran a hand over his chin. ‘I wonder… There was a bloke Shelley mentioned. Sounded like she was close to him. She got right upset, and then clammed up. Didn’t mention it again.’
Turn to Dust Page 13
