Glass dolls, p.14
Glass Dolls, page 14
In the interview with DCI Franklin, she had been honest about her breakdown, about the way she saw her future career path, and he had taken it as given, not pressuring her with questions about the past. It was something she was immensely grateful for. Second chances didn’t come along too often.
Eden hadn’t had one.
Chapter Twenty-seven
The meet was at a small hotel in Cattling, right on the border of the two boroughs of Lymington-on-sea and Abberley. Their team had been in position for the last hour. As always, nobody knew who could be following a CHIS, and surveillance was essential both before and after meetings to prevent things getting nasty.
The hotel room was drab and smelled damp. The carpet curled at the edges, and the bed covers were discoloured and tatty. Adrik arrived a few minutes after the agreed time, head down, hood up, his quick, bright gaze taking in Zak, who sat legs crossed, sleeves rolled up, in an armchair.
Dove elected to stand rather than sit on the bed. “Hey, Adrik. Nice threads, mate.”
Adrik gave her a grin, flashing perfect white teeth. “You wanna jacket like this, you gonna have to pay for it, girl.”
She dismissed money with a quick, rude gesture and Adrik laughed, falling easily into their usual banter. She kept him talking, while moving on the conversation with skill to get to the real reason they were all crowded into the hotel room. It was another rule for source handlers to keep things moving so smoothly that the CHIS felt they were the centre of attention, the star of the show.
“So this is Jack, and like I said on the phone, he’s my mate, a friend of Nathan’s. Same rules, you just get two for the price of one.” Nathan was the name of Kelly’s supposed boyfriend who had been stabbed to death four years ago.
Zak smiled. “Kelly isn’t mates with everyone, so you must be something special. Nathan always told me to keep an eye on her, so here I am.”
Adrik nodded at the other man, his expression cool and watchful. “Nathan’s been dead four years, man, where’ve you been?”
Zak shrugged. “Around, mostly in Glasgow where I do a lot of business, but she’s a pretty girl so I thought I should check she wasn’t in any trouble now I’m back down this way.” He winked at the other man.
Dove flashed him a furious glance, not just because that’s what “Kelly” would have done. Wanker, with his “all boys together” chat. Zak widened his eyes and leaned over to give her a one-armed hug, smiling at the other man.
None of the unfriendly exchange, or her stiff response to his physical contact, was missed by Adrik, who stood nearest the door, one hand on his pocket, eyes flicking from one officer to the other, shoulders set and tense.
Dove moved things on. “You told me you had something for me?”
“I got a phone in. Not sure who brought it because it came in a bag with a job lot, so don’t ask. Likely from the bins in this area, but can’t say for sure.”
Dove, used to Adrik’s jerky speech patterns and his sudden, brief silences, kept quiet, allowing him to talk, but Zak jumped in. “Come on, mate, move it along. You want to get paid, so you need to give us the good stuff and we can all get out of here. I’ve heard you’re solid, so let’s see it in action.”
Dove scowled at him again, but he ignored her.
“Kelly says she’s gotta work with you, so I’ll go along with it, but you’re already fucking me off. Yeah? I always give good stuff, Kelly knows that.” Adrik straightened slightly, chest broadening as he flexed his muscles.
“It’s okay, Adrik, he was just being a dick,” Dove told him.
“This is the phone.” He tugged a blue plastic bag containing the device out of his pocket and handed it to Dove, bypassing Zak’s outstretched arm. “It must’ve belonged to Agnes Nilsson. I recognized her from the news photo. Loads of photos, emails and texts on there, and I knew right away you’d want it.” He shrugged. “It came in Friday.”
“Are you sure you don’t know who brought the job lot in?” Zak asked.
“No. I paid cash and got the bag in a drop chute. Like I said, it came in on the Friday morning . . .”
“But . . .”
Dove nodded at Zak to shut up. “Thanks, Adrik.”
“Yeah, ta for that. Here’s to working together.” Zak smiled at him.
“It’s just what we need,” Dove added. “Let me know when that baby makes it into the world, and I’ll be round.”
“Yeah, mate, thanks, I’ll let you know when she goes into labour, and if I get any more juicy stuff, I’ll let you know . . . let you both know.” Adrik’s face lit with a flash of mischief. His words were laced with sarcasm.
For an hour afterwards, Dove and Zak, as Kelly and Jack, stayed in a rundown coffee bar in the centre of Nantich Valley. The conversation was exactly as it would have been if they were really meeting up for the first time in years, talking about Nathan, Jack’s business deals, and Kelly’s cousin in Spain.
After an hour had passed, Dove went off to wait for the number sixty-two bus which would take her out to Merringdean. From there, she would be picked up and taken back for the debrief. It was the usual protection, just in case anyone was watching.
When she and Zak finally met up again, it was past midnight. Chris was waiting for them in the car and as the driver took them up the motorway, she felt herself relax.
“The phone has gone straight over to the lab and they’ll call Blackman after a preliminary look. How did you feel it went?”
Dove shrugged. “All right. Adrik seemed his usual self, and there was no sign of any adverse activity. He seems pretty happy to be back working with us.”
Zak nodded. “Yeah, unless you noticed anything from the outside, boss, I think we had it sealed off. The chat in the café was a nice touch, too.”
“How do you feel about continuing for a while, as co-handlers?” Chris said.
“I’m not sure,” Dove jumped in. “All this was just to get one piece of evidence, wasn’t it? And it looks like we hit the jackpot with her phone. I think we planned that now I’ve introduced Zak, I’ll just fade gradually into the background. I’ll have to stick around until the baby is born, because Kelly wouldn’t miss that, but we can use that to make sure Jack is really part of the story.” Dove paused. “This isn’t a long-term thing, is it? It can’t be.”
Chris smiled at her, and winked. “Nah, I’m just kidding.”
Zak raised his eyebrows, clearly picking up on the tension between his colleagues.
“It wouldn’t work long-term,” Dove told her old boss, whose eyes flickered with something that might have been annoyance. Those had been his exact words to her when she had told him honestly that she couldn’t continue with the IU. He had said he thought she might enjoy the MCT for a bit but it wouldn’t be a long-term career move. He had then offered her a small pay rise and as much time off as she needed, but she had still said no. Chris had wanted to hold on to her not because he felt any compassion, but because she got results.
Thank God neither Chris nor anyone else had ever known about the true depth of her relationship with Adrik. His silence had been a measure of their bond, and his way of comforting her over Eden. That memory would stay in the shadows.
Chapter Twenty-eight
My footsteps echo on the wet pavement, and the street lights cast dancing lights across my path. The bus stop is only a fifteen-minute walk, and although rundown, this area is well lit and has a busy road.
I hold my rucksack tightly, phone in my other hand, walking briskly, head high. A car goes past with a swish of tyres, splashing water onto the pavement, soaking my trainers. Another, driving slower, approaches. I glance to my right, checking the vehicle’s reflection in the puddles at my feet.
A taxi depositing a customer. I can hear laughing from one of the houses on my left. A door pops open, and loud music bounces out onto the street.
I’m passing waste ground now, fringed by the river, eyes focused on my phone. The text I thought I’d sent about grabbing a lift hasn’t gone, and perhaps my voicemail sent an hour ago hasn’t been picked up. Frustrated, and shivering in my thin top and leather jacket, I try again, but the signal is weak.
As the rain continues, the sensible part of me suggests I go back and wait at the party, phoning from there and getting a pick-up outside the door. The idiot in me continues walking towards Tesco. I need to clear my head, which is full of the party and my boyfriend. My boyfriend, who now thinks we need to “take some time out”, the total bastard. I walk faster, stamping my boots. That’s another reason I can’t go back and wait at my friend’s house. He will probably still be there, drinking.
And that’s how it happened. One little mistake, one wrong choice defined the rest of my short life. I was a normal teenager, and then, in a split second, it all changed.
Past the derelict sheds on the edge of the waste ground, I see a familiar car. What’s he doing here? But relief at the prospect of getting out of the cold means I don’t think as I walk into the car park, rounding the corner of the building to see three figures.
I’m about to call out when I realize something is very wrong. For a moment, my mind can’t process what I’m seeing, before the horror and disbelief wells up like a fountain in my chest. It must be a mistake . . .
They spot me as I start to run, my polished brown boots slipping on the snow and slush, my heart pounding with such intensity I think I might die here and now.
I hear footsteps behind me, gaining on me . . . The man who grabs me from behind wrenches my arm with such force he almost breaks my wrist. His breath is rank in my face and he is unfamiliar, which means that someone else is standing, watching . . .
I yell his name, my voice hoarse with terror, twisting round to see where he’s gone. But the van is already moving, bumping away from me across the dimly lit tarmac.
Then I know I’m on my own, and I fight back with everything I have. But my captor is a tall man, and he throws me bodily into another van. He grips my wrists cruelly, wrapping them with tape. I lean my whole body weight back, kicking out at my attacker, still screaming for help. He wraps another length of tape across my mouth with a practised slap, and I am silenced.
I realize the inevitable is coming, but I continue fighting. My bound hand catches against a clip on my rucksack, and in a moment of clarity I fumble at it, managing to release the catch.
A pink pompom drops into the dirty water at the side of the road as the van door is slammed shut.
He will know what happened to me, but I know now he won’t save me, because he was part of it. His eyes were gleaming, his face contorted with excitement, and something else. I almost didn’t recognize him, but no matter how hard I try to convince myself, I know the truth.
Dazed and terrified, my heart beats so hard it seems to shake my entire body. I lie in the filth in the back of the transit van, sliding around as we drive away. I realize I’m not alone.
There is another girl in the back, the one who was sitting up on the tailgate of the van as I entered the car park.
Her dirty blonde hair is fanned out across the floor, her eyes are dull and she makes no effort to speak. Instead she lies huddled in the gloom, her face turned towards me, but there’s no flicker of humanity in those sad green eyes.
What happens when you see something you shouldn’t have?
Chapter Twenty-nine
Ren greeted Dove with a smooth, blank expression, her movements slow, as if she had suddenly aged forty years.
Alex was fussing over her, arranging her cushions so she could sit propped up on the sofa, bringing tea and generally treating her like an invalid, despite the fact he had been told not to last time it happened.
“Have you solved the murders?” Ren asked dreamily, as a news item popped up on the TV.
Alex hastily changed over to the Antiques Roadshow. Dove bit her nail, ignoring the question. It could be the slightest thing that set Ren off, despite the medication, and she didn’t know if she could cope with her sister having another breakdown in front of her.
Alex and Dove moved to the kitchen table to talk as Ren watched TV. Alex looked awful. His big square face was pale and drawn, his blue eyes bloodshot and his hair greasy. He kept running his hand through it and fidgeting with his phone.
“I keep thinking she’ll call. All the time, this is just how it was with Eden.” His eyes filled with tears and he scrubbed them away. “It’s been four days now, Dove. What the fuck are the police doing?”
Dove felt a catch in her heart and wiped her own eyes. “We’re doing everything we can and so are you. Gut instinct says she’s just had enough and taken off for a few days. Focus on that and it’ll keep you sane.”
“But what if he did take her? This killer? Is he targeting our family?” His face darkened. “I saw in the local paper that Gaia’s club manager has been questioned . . .”
“His name has never been officially released. We would never do that. He has been helping with enquiries, that’s all.” That was the very question she had hoped he wouldn’t ask, and the reason they tried not to name names until they had to. “A lot of people have been questioned, and we’re still ruling people out, Alex. I don’t have the answers right now, but please believe me when I say we are working so hard on this, to find both Delta and the killer. I heard Gaia’s had to get extra security in on her club, did she tell you?”
“She called yesterday. I thought she’d be freaked out that another girl had been killed but she seems to be handling it okay. She’s coming over to be with Ren tomorrow morning so I can go to work. That colleague of yours is good. Lindsey. She’s been coming over and keeping us up to date. Sorry I asked, because I know you can’t tell me anything, anyway.” He was weary, his voice flat and dull.
“At least you won’t have missed much trade today, it’s been pissing down,” Dove said. She switched the subject back to work, aware that neither of them was really listening to the other. The conversation was paper thin. Just words spilling out without any depth. And all the while her sister sat on the sofa, curled in her blankets, staring in silence at the TV screen, her hair falling in tangled curls down her back.
Dove ached to comfort her, but was terrified of showing emotion in case she set Ren off again on that terrible trail of destruction. Instead, she reassured Alex as much as she could, wondering how long it would be before he, too, started showing cracks. The signs were all there. He had been the one shoring up the family last time, refusing help or counselling, but this second blow must be bringing him close to the edge.
She gave him one of her awkward hugs. “We’ve still got hope, Alex. Hang on to that if you can.”
He nodded, unable to raise a smile.
Chapter Thirty
DI Blackman, despite the bags under his eyes, was immaculate as ever in his white shirt and striped navy tie. He looked round at the team. “Creaver has been arrested, so we need to nail this case now.”
The team were red-eyed and exhausted. Fuelled by junk food and caffeine, their discarded cups and wrappers covered the desks and the briefing room table was scattered with paperwork.
There was murmured approval and excitement at the news that the end was perhaps in sight, but the DI held up a hand. “Okay, we’re not through yet. The blue van that was our possible transport vehicle in the first murder hasn’t been traced yet, and in the second murder, there is no evidence that the same vehicle was used. In fact, we’re considering the killer might have used a boat. Our CSI team found no evidence of the case being dragged or transported from the car park to the cove. It wasn’t lowered from the clifftop, either.”
He clicked on a slide and a smiling photo of Agnes Nilsson came up on the screen. “Following information from a shared op with Nantich Valley, we have Agnes Nilsson’s phone. It is currently with Forensics, but they have given a quick prelim report. She was on a Sofa Surf app and seems to have communicated with various known drug dealers. The website seems to have not only been used as a place to find a bed for the night, but also a way to mule drugs. Interpol has been very useful on this and I know there is more to come, but we can do this.” He took a deep breath and smiled round at the room.
Sharing his relief at the case finally moving forward, Dove smiled back. She couldn’t help but feel that after days of struggling, of tangled strands leading to dead ends, there was now a glimmer of hope. It was just frustrating that there were still ends to tie up.
She glanced down automatically as her phone buzzed with a text.
How u doing 2day? Hope all ok didn’t hear from u last night?
Adrik had always been needy, requiring constant reassurance. She supposed it was because in his world, people often didn’t come home, weren’t where they said they would be . . . It was intense and cloying.
He had come through with Agnes’s phone, though, and she was getting used to responding to his little texts throughout the day or night. Even a line would do, just so that he knew she was safe. Dove had once asked Aleesha, partly joking, if Adrik was one of those men who liked to keep tabs on his women. She remembered Aleesha’s flicker of annoyance, as she’d admitted her texting him all the time seemed to keep him happy.
She tapped out a quick, discreet reply, then turned her attention back to the briefing. Exhaustion was giving her that sick, floating feeling.
The DI was still talking. “We have texts between Agnes and various friends, all of whom check out. Alex Corner, who rented her a sofa for the first week of her stay, has an alibi for both murders.” He nodded at Dove for her input, and she pulled herself together.
“Texts between Marc and Agnes go back as far as February this year and indicate they met via the forum on Sofa Surf, and casually dated. His phone number no longer exists. The last text conversation between them is here, and it does point us further in the direction of a drugs mule,” Dove said, indicating the screen as a slide flashed up.
U need to collect from me at 5 x
My train is at 6? Can u do earlier? When do I get paid?
