Книга - At Your Door
At Your Door
J. P. Carter
What happens when the past comes back to kill you? When DCI Anna Tate is called to the gruesome discovery of a dead woman found on Barnes Common, she is plunged into a high‐profile investigation involving a prominent MP. London is baying for blood – but is there more to Holly’s death than at first meets the eye? Meanwhile, the hunt is on for Anna’s missing daughter Chloe, who vanished ten years ago when her father kidnapped her. The case has been cold for what feels like forever – but a phone call brings a brand new lead… Can Anna solve the murder case whilst dealing with her own personal demons? Or is someone from the past planning to get in her way? An addictive new thriller from J. P. Carter, perfect for fans of Heidi Perks and D. S. Butler. Readers love the DCI Anna Tate series: ‘Anna Tate is a worthy protagonist; but it's the complex and gripping plot and equally engrossing subplot that is the true star of the show. ’ Lynne Patrick, Mystery People ‘A fantastic book had me reading frantically’ Amazon reviewer ‘Nothing in this book happened as I expected and I loved it’ Amazon reviewer ‘A fast, pacy book, full of suspense’ Amazon reviewer ‘A highly addictive crime series’ Amazon reviewer ‘Kept me guessing to the end’ Amazon reviewer
AT YOUR DOOR
J. P Carter
Copyright (#u46c5387b-2048-558b-935a-e85503d7b9ea)
Published by AVON
A Division of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd
1 London Bridge Street
London SE1 9GF
www.harpercollins.co.uk (http://www.harpercollins.co.uk)
First published in Great Britain by HarperCollinsPublishers 2019
Copyright © J. P. Carter 2019
Cover design © HarperCollinsPublishers 2019
Cover photograph © Ellie Rollason/ Arcangel Images (hallway)
Cover photograph © Miguel Sobreira/ Arcangel Images (houses)
Cover photograph © Shutterstock.com (http://Shutterstock.com) (man)
Cover photograph © imageBROKER/Alamy Stock Photo (teddy)
J. P. Carter asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this ebook on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.
Source ISBN: 9780008313302
Ebook Edition © July 2019 ISBN: 9780008313319
Version: 2019-06-17
Dedication (#u46c5387b-2048-558b-935a-e85503d7b9ea)
To my three wonderful daughters.
Contents
Cover (#u15f1bd0c-0ef9-5abb-9157-796797824603)
Title Page (#u53d0e690-43c8-5c8e-8841-d73623f4e7dc)
Copyright
Dedication
Prologue
Chapter One (#u1aac7c2b-5574-5e2f-946f-4a7618944d5a)
Chapter Two (#uc916dd3f-d00c-55be-b1a5-21f34c9a318e)
Chapter Three (#u5a08c13b-f704-5300-8f47-d06d9b1f26ec)
Chapter Four (#ue51831b9-3a69-5ee9-8d9a-753830b4ca9c)
Chapter Five (#u4405f2e8-4a79-5930-a380-65e727d38ca0)
Chapter Six (#u813ac9b0-ac62-5445-a69a-a99cd8652757)
Chapter Seven (#ue76302a6-e370-5a7f-8364-28f0447419eb)
Chapter Eight (#ua64ab619-3af9-5009-9d85-ef9f1f8b81cd)
Chapter Nine (#u02be7795-2f24-58ff-b4fb-61bab06a30a0)
Chapter Ten (#u76221f06-13a8-595f-b47d-81fd610e8f90)
Chapter Eleven (#ue01893ec-901b-584f-8e6e-0145e6a25da2)
Chapter Twelve (#ub57076f4-72e3-5337-83dd-153e881f0059)
Chapter Thirteen (#u6061848e-3a66-588f-a0ef-29747cebaad3)
Chapter Fourteen (#ube7f3a9d-2791-5010-af7e-a126dfbc784f)
Chapter Fifteen (#u5fc374f7-2165-5da9-9a61-ba3f1c68d585)
Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nineteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-One (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Two (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Three (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Four (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirty (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirty-One (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirty-Two (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirty-Three (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirty-Four (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirty-Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirty-Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirty-Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirty-Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirty-Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Forty (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Forty-One (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Forty-Two (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Forty-Three (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Forty-Four (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Forty-Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Forty-Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Forty-Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Forty-Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Forty-Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifty (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifty-One (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifty-Two (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifty-Three (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifty-Four (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifty-Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifty-Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifty-Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifty-Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifty-Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Sixty (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Sixty-One (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Sixty-Two (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Sixty-Three (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Sixty-Four (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Sixty-Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Sixty-Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Epilogue
Acknowledgements (#litres_trial_promo)
Keep Reading … (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Author
About the Publisher
PROLOGUE (#u46c5387b-2048-558b-935a-e85503d7b9ea)
He was a bag of nerves because he had never disposed of a body before.
He knew that if he made a mistake, or was simply unlucky, then he could be caught red-handed or leave clues for the police to find.
He’d briefly considered driving out of London into the countryside, but had decided against it the moment he’d got behind the wheel. The longer he was in the car the greater the risk of something unforeseen happening. It wasn’t beyond the realms of possibility that he’d be pulled over by a couple of bored coppers working the night shift.
And then there were the ubiquitous traffic cameras to take into account. All the routes out of the capital were packed with them, and it was essential he avoided as many as possible.
Having taken all this into consideration he had opted to drive to a spot he was familiar with. It was on the edge of a wooded area on Barnes Common. He would only have to travel another mile or so and he’d be there. By then it’d be well after midnight and the area would hopefully be deserted.
His heart was pumping furiously and beads of sweat pulsed on his forehead. He was struggling to focus and he needed to. He couldn’t afford to slip up. Dumping the body would be the easy part. He knew exactly what he was going to do. The important thing was not to leave any traces of himself behind such as fingerprints, DNA and incriminating fibres. But after she was found things would hot up, become ever more dangerous.
If he had known what was going to happen earlier this evening he would have made plans. And they would have included finding somewhere to bury the corpse. But that was out of the question now. It would take ages to dig a grave even if he had a shovel and the inclination to do so. And he would first have to find a suitable spot that didn’t require him to haul the body any great distance.
Luckily the roads were quiet and the weather calm. But according to the Met Office there would be showers later in the morning to welcome in the first Wednesday of September. He hoped the forecasters were right because it would mess things up for the forensics team when they eventually arrived to examine the ground around the body.
He was past Putney now and the common was up ahead. He could feel the panic rising inside him and he tried to push it down. Hold your nerve, he told himself. Just concentrate and this will soon be over.
A bout of trembling gripped him when he reached the common and turned onto the road that led to his chosen spot. Trees pressed in on either side. He drove for half a mile and passed only two cars coming in the opposite direction.
When he arrived at his destination he slowed down and made sure there were no cars approaching from behind. Then he stopped before reversing onto a short patch of gravel that formed the entrance to a field with dense woodland on one side. In doing so his headlights picked out the gates to an old cemetery on the opposite side of the road.
Once the car was stationary he switched off the engine and the darkness descended. He sat for a full minute as the adrenalin surged through him. Only one car passed during that time and he saw no sign of life around him.
Eventually he sucked in a lungful of air through gritted teeth and put his gloves back on. Then he got out of the car. He had parked at a slight angle so that passing motorists wouldn’t be able to see his number plate. The back of the car was a few feet away from a metal gate that blocked vehicular access to the field. But on one side of it was another smaller gate that opened onto a narrow walking trail.
He walked around and opened the boot, confident that he wasn’t visible from the road. Inside, the body was wrapped in black plastic bin bags that had been taped together.
She only weighed about eight stone so it was easy enough for him to lift her out. He carried her through the small gate and along the trail to the right into the woods. The vegetation between the trees was high and thick and he found the perfect spot after only a short distance. He dropped her onto a bed of ferns and then carefully removed the bin bags so she was lying there naked, her skin pale against the dark undergrowth.
As he stared down at her he realised there were tears in his eyes and a voice inside his head was telling him to stay with her for a while so that he could get off his chest the things he wanted to say to her. But another voice told him not to be stupid and to get away from there as quickly as possible. And it was that voice he listened to.
He gathered up some leaves and branches and threw them on top of her, and while doing so he wondered if the body would be discovered before the animals and insects feasted on it.
Finally, he picked up the bin bags and used the torch on his phone to make sure he’d left nothing behind.
Then he returned to the car and put the blood-soaked bin bags into an unused bag. He then placed this in the boot alongside her clothes, handbag and purse. Seconds later he was back behind the wheel.
But his work wasn’t finished. On the way home he stopped next to half a dozen different street bins into which he deposited her belongings along with the bin bags. As a precaution everything had already been wiped clean, her phone had been smashed and all her credit cards cut up into small pieces.
The only item he intended to keep was her driving licence, which he took from his pocket after he pulled the car to a stop in front of his home. He stared at it for almost half a minute, and was careful not to touch the spatter of blood on the back. Then he blew a kiss at her photograph, and said, ‘I’m so very, very sorry. You really didn’t deserve this.’
CHAPTER ONE (#ulink_cd930a58-7a16-5d8a-bb4a-2eaaf8a5ce1e)
Anna was glad that nobody in the office had realised it was her birthday. The last thing she wanted was any kind of fuss.
It was depressing enough knowing that she was another year older. She didn’t want to be teased about reaching the ripe old age of forty-three.
It was scary how quickly the time had passed, and how many milestones she had clocked up. A lot of tears had been shed during those four decades, and she didn’t feel inclined to celebrate the fact that September the sixth had come around again.
The only reason she was going out for dinner tonight was because Tom had insisted.
‘You’ve had a tough year, Anna,’ he’d said this morning just before they left her house and went their separate ways. ‘And I wouldn’t be a very good boyfriend if I let your birthday pass without making it at least a little different to every other day.’
He was right about it having been a tough year, especially on the work front. She and her colleagues in the Major Investigation Team had been swamped by the biggest tidal wave of serious crime ever to hit South London. The murder rate was up, along with knife attacks, shootings, robberies and gang violence. The last case they’d dealt with had been the most challenging, though. It had involved the abduction of nine small children from a nursery school in Rotherhithe, and the murder of one of their teachers.
The investigation had ended dramatically two weeks ago, but the paperwork was still piled up on the desk in front of her. She’d been wading through it all afternoon and her eyes were tired from reading the case notes, interview transcripts, forensics reports and briefing documents that were being prepared for the Crown Prosecution Service.
Still, in another forty-five minutes it’d be five o’clock and that was when she’d decided to call it a day. It was only a short drive from the Wandsworth HQ to her home in Vauxhall so she’d have plenty of time to shower and get dressed before Tom arrived.
He was getting ready at his own flat, which was only a mile away, and coming over by taxi. He’d booked a table at their favourite Italian restaurant for seven-thirty and she was hoping he hadn’t done something daft like ordered a cake or arranged for someone to sing ‘Happy Birthday’ to her.
The more she thought about tonight the less she felt like going. But if she cried off without having a really good excuse it would upset Tom and give him another reason to believe that she was no longer committed to their relationship. The issue had taken root in his mind and she’d been struggling to convince him that it wasn’t true.
But she knew it would take more than just words to banish his insecurities. The main thing he wanted was for them to live together and she simply wasn’t ready for that.
A burst of activity out in the main office seized her attention suddenly. She watched through the open door as several detectives gathered around the desk of DI Max Walker, who was holding a phone to his ear with one hand while scribbling frantically on a notepad with the other.
Instinct told Anna that something had happened and that Walker was being fed the details by an operator at central control. If so then it could well be the start of a new investigation.
That was usually how it began. A single phone call that prompted a collective rush of adrenalin and then a dash to the scene of whatever crime had been committed.
Anna was on her feet and out of her tiny office in a flash. By the time she reached Walker’s desk he’d finished the call and was tearing a page from his notebook. He looked up at her but when he spoke it was loud enough so that everyone could hear.
‘A body has been found on the edge of Barnes Common,’ he said. ‘A young woman. She’s naked and has a stab wound to the throat. And it seems she hasn’t been there very long. Uniform have just arrived and a forensics team are only minutes away.’
CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_07de07da-7375-533d-8e01-6dc5aed54f9d)
Anna told DI Walker and DC Megan Sweeny that she wanted them to go with her to the common. She then issued various instructions to the rest of the detectives.
‘Check missing persons to see if any young women have been added to the database recently. And I want us to locate all the street cameras within a half-mile radius of where the body’s been found.’
Anna hurried back into her office to collect her jacket and shoulder bag. As she was stepping back out her mobile rang. She answered it without checking the caller ID.
‘DCI Tate,’ she said.
‘Hello, detective. This is Jan Groves in the Media Liaison Department. Can you spare a moment?’
‘Not really. I’m on my way out of the office. And if you’re calling to ask about the body found on Barnes Common then I don’t have any information yet. We’ve only just got wind of it.’
‘Actually it’s got nothing to do with that,’ Groves said. ‘This is more of a personal matter.’
Anna paused in the doorway and frowned.
‘In that case I’ll let you satisfy my curiosity,’ she said. ‘I can give you sixty seconds. So fire away.’
‘Well, we’ve been contacted by a producer at Channel Four,’ Groves said. ‘He just finished the second instalment of the feature about you that’s been published in the Evening Standard. He said it blew his mind and he’d like to do a programme on it for their true crime series. He wants to know if you’d be willing to cooperate.’
Anna’s heart skipped a beat. ‘Of course I’m up for it. And the sooner it happens the better.’
‘I thought that would be your reaction,’ Groves said. ‘I’ll get back to him right away. Your superiors will need to sign off on it, but I don’t think that will be a problem. We’re working closely with several TV channels on a whole bunch of programmes at present.’
Anna was well aware of that. True crime documentaries were all the rage with broadcasters these days. Viewers were lapping them up, and that was good for the force because they often shed new light on unsolved cases going back years.
‘As a matter of interest have you had any other response to the article in the Standard?’ Groves asked.
‘Nobody has contacted me yet,’ Anna said. ‘I checked with the paper a few hours ago but they said they hadn’t received any calls or emails either.’
‘That’s a shame. I thought it was a really well-written piece, and the story itself is just extraordinary. Hopefully you’ll have better luck if we can get this doco off the ground.’
‘I’ll be keeping my fingers crossed,’ Anna said.
‘And I’ll keep you updated on where we are with it.’
After ending the call, Anna took a moment to reflect on this latest news. In the ten years she’d been searching for her daughter she had never felt so close to finding her. Now, for the first time, the full story of Chloe’s abduction, including the recent shocking developments, was going to be aired on a mainstream TV channel. With luck it would be seen by someone who had information that could end Anna’s long-running nightmare.
It was hard for her to contain her excitement, but she knew she had to, at least for now. If she didn’t squeeze it to the back of her mind it would become a distraction, and she couldn’t allow that to happen at the start of what might prove to be a major new investigation.
She needed to focus all her attention on the job at hand. She owed that to the family of the young woman whose body had turned up on Barnes Common.
Anna travelled across South London in a pool car with DI Walker and DC Sweeny.
Walker, who was in his late thirties, had been part of the team for four years and was Anna’s most trusted wingman. Sweeny, who was several years younger, had joined only three months ago and Anna was keen for her to have plenty of crime scene experience.
Walker was driving and Sweeny was in the back Googling the location of the body on her phone browser.
‘It’s right next to the road that passes between Barnes Common and Putney Lower Common,’ she was saying. ‘Just opposite there’s a cemetery that’s been closed to new burials for years. But it’s quite well known because it contains some Commonwealth war graves.’
Anna was familiar with the area, which had more open spaces than any other part of London. To the south of Barnes Common was Richmond Park, Putney Heath and Wimbledon Common. To the north was the Thames and the London Wetland Centre, an urban oasis for wildlife, with lakes, ponds and gardens.
The area contained hundreds of acres of woods and heathland, but very few bodies had ever been found there, which was perhaps surprising given the capital’s high murder and suicide rates. That wasn’t to say there weren’t dozens buried beneath the topsoil or lying undiscovered amidst thick hedgerows.
Anna was already wondering about the woman whose corpse they were going to see. Was she married or single? Did she have children? Did she die on the common or elsewhere? Who found her? And why was she naked?
The questions would pile up as per usual and it would be their job to seek out the answers. They would also have to break the news to those with whom the woman had a relationship. The next of kin, be it mother, father, husband, son or daughter. It was a thankless task that Anna had carried out far too many times during her seventeen years on the force.
Her thoughts were interrupted by another call on her mobile. This time she checked the caller ID before answering. It was her boss, DCS Bill Nash.
‘I can guess why you’re ringing, guv,’ she said. ‘We’re on our way to Barnes Common now. Traffic’s pretty heavy but we should be there in ten minutes or so.’
‘Well, I won’t be back in London until tomorrow,’ he responded. ‘But I want you to keep me updated. This sounds like a nasty one.’
Anna had forgotten that Nash had been attending a two-day conference in Newcastle with other senior police officers from all over the country.
‘Everything is in hand,’ she said. ‘Uniform are already at the scene and forensics should have arrived by now too.’
‘Well, don’t hesitate to call me if there are any problems.’
It was only about two miles from MIT HQ to Barnes Common, but it was rush hour and therefore slow going even with the blue light flashing.
They finally arrived at their destination at five-thirty. It was a rural setting that should have been deserted and peaceful. Instead it was a scene of frenzied activity.
On one side of the road three patrol cars, a fast-response ambulance and a forensics van were parked in front of the wall to the cemetery that Sweeny had mentioned. On the opposite side a small group had gathered on a rough patch of gravel leading to a field. They included four officers in hi-vis jackets, a paramedic and a woman with a small dog on a lead.
Walker parked up next to the ambulance and Anna was the first out. The sky had clouded over and she was glad because it had taken the heat out of the day. It meant she could leave her jacket on without sweating buckets.
‘Well, it’s time to find out what we have here,’ she said as she led the way across the road.
The detectives flashed their warrant cards and one of the uniforms quickly put them in the picture.
‘We’ve just been informed that the pathologist will be here any minute,’ he said.
He gestured to a metal gate behind him that blocked any vehicles driving onto the field, but there was a smaller gate to one side which led to an unpaved walking trail.
‘We’re trying to find out who owns the land so we can get them to open the gate,’ he went on. ‘The body is about forty yards into those woods over to the right. The SOCOs arrived ten minutes ago and are getting themselves sorted.’
‘So who found it?’ Anna asked.
The officer nodded towards the woman with the dog, who was speaking to the paramedic.
‘Her name’s Joyce Connor. Her mutt sniffed it out and she called it in. But understandably she’s in a bit of a state.’
‘We’ll talk to her in a moment,’ Anna said. ‘First we’ll see the body for ourselves.’
‘Well, you need to brace yourselves,’ the officer said. ‘It really isn’t a pretty sight.’
CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_af688156-7754-533e-b62d-5ee2eff22b35)
Anna and her two detectives followed the walking trail and saw the scene of crime officers as soon as they entered the wood. There were five of them. They had already unpacked their equipment and were starting to do their job with grim-faced determination.
Anna knew that it wasn’t going to be easy for them. Crime scenes that were open to the elements were always more difficult to control and process. Contamination of evidence was inevitable and dead bodies usually fell prey to insects and animals. Much would depend on how long the woman had been here and that was for the pathologist to determine with any degree of accuracy.
The three detectives were greeted by a SOCO wearing a white paper suit. Anna had never met him before so she introduced herself and the others and then they all signed the crime scene log.
The officer pointed to a large cardboard box containing overalls, masks and shoe covers.
‘You’ll need to get suited up,’ he said. ‘And for your information another team will be here shortly. There’s a lot of ground to be covered and it’s pretty messy.’
Once they had the gear on they followed the officer into the wood along a narrow, uneven trail that looked as though it didn’t get used much.
‘So what have we got then?’ Anna asked him.
‘Female, probably in her early twenties,’ he said. ‘Looks as though she’s been stabbed in the throat and I very much doubt that she did it to herself. She’s also naked and there are no clothes or other belongings in the immediate vicinity of the body. And as yet no sign of a weapon or anything that can identify her.’
‘So was she dumped here or killed here?’
‘Almost certainly dumped. And whoever did it covered her with leaves and branches but didn’t try very hard to conceal her.’
‘Any thoughts on how long she’s been here?’
‘Well, that’s not my area of expertise but I would say a few days and nights at the most. There are residual signs of rigor but not much blistering and skin decay. And be warned, the creatures of the forest have been dining out on her.’
They had to clamber through a patch of wild shrubs to get to the body. It was lying face up and the sight of it drew sharp intakes of breath from Anna and her two colleagues. The woman’s skin was pale and bloated and the gaping hole in her throat was filled with foam, blood, maggots and flies.
Her eyes were closed but her lips were parted to reveal teeth that were smeared with dirt and dust. There were small bite and scratch marks on her breasts, stomach and thighs, and about a dozen ants had made themselves at home in her pubic thatch.
‘I’ve seen enough,’ Sweeny said suddenly as she put her hand over her mouth and hurriedly retreated to the trail.
Anna shook her head. ‘Can’t really blame her for that. This is pretty bad.’
‘Worst I’ve seen in a long time,’ Walker said. ‘The poor kid was in the prime of her life. It’s a fucking shame.’
Anna was still staring down at the body while trying to imagine what the woman had looked like before her life was cut short in such a brutal fashion.
She was slim with small breasts and quite tall at about five ten or eleven. Her hair was fair and shoulder-length. It framed a narrow face with high cheekbones and a sharply pointed nose.
‘First thing we did was remove the stuff that had been placed on top of her,’ the forensics officer said. ‘We want to take some more pictures and examine the ground around her before we turn her over and put up the tent. And I’m sure the pathologist will want to be present when we do that.’
Anna asked Walker to take some pictures on his phone while she took out her pad and made various notes, including a list of questions she wanted answers to.
Who was the victim? Had she been reported missing? Why was she dumped here on Barnes Common? Was she stripped to remove traces of DNA? How did the killer get her to this spot? Was it in a car or van? If so where had the vehicle been parked?
Anna looked around, soaking up the scene, and wondered how many people frequented this part of the common. The track snaked deeper into the wood. She would have to find out where it led and if there were any homes close by.
‘I’ve got enough photos,’ Walker said. ‘Shall we leave these guys to it and go and talk to the woman who found the body?’
Walker removed his white suit but Anna left hers on as they hurried back along the trail.
Sweeny was waiting for them next to the gate. She had also taken off the forensic suit and the navy blue blouse that clung to her plump frame was stained with sweat.
‘Are you all right?’ Anna asked her.
‘I am now,’ she said, looking embarrassed. ‘Sorry about that, ma’am. The sight of that poor girl just turned my stomach suddenly.’
‘Don’t worry about it,’ Anna said. ‘It happens to us all at some point. I’m afraid you’ll have to get used to sights like that working with us.’
The woman who had discovered the body had been moved across the road and was sitting on a wooden bench situated next to the cemetery entrance. Her dog, a black and white Jack Russell, lay on the ground in front of her.
Joyce Connor was in her fifties with greying hair and soft features. Her face was gaunt and colourless, and her lips trembled as she spoke.
‘We don’t often come this way,’ she said. ‘We usually stick to the fields nearer my home on the other side of the wood. But I fancied a change and the sun was strong so I opted for the shade of the trees.
‘Sammy here was off his lead and he did what he always does and went nosing around in the bushes. When he started barking I went to see what he’d come across and that was when I saw the hand poking out from under the leaves.’
She explained that this part of the common attracted few dog walkers and other visitors.
‘It’s always so quiet here,’ she said. Then, in answer to a question from Walker, she confirmed that she had not approached the body or picked up anything from the ground around it.
‘I just grabbed Sammy and put his lead back on,’ she said. ‘Then I hurried away from there and called the police.’
Anna told her a patrol car would take her home where she would be asked to make a brief statement.
Anna then took Walker and Sweeny to one side and gave them instructions. She wanted Walker to arrange for a search team to descend on the wood first thing in the morning.
‘There’s no point doing it now since there are only a few hours of daylight left,’ she said.
She then told Sweeny to start working up a file containing information on the common and the land surrounding it.
‘You can download maps and images from Google,’ she said. ‘Let’s locate all the homes in the area along with access routes to this stretch of the common. And find out who’s responsible for managing it.’
Anna looked at her watch and was surprised to see that it was already six-fifteen. Tom would soon be setting off from his flat to pick her up. She decided it was time to call him to break the news that she wouldn’t be going out to celebrate her birthday after all.
Tom was naturally disappointed but he knew it couldn’t be helped.
‘I’ll ring and cancel the reservation,’ he said. ‘Hopefully we can go another time.’
‘I probably won’t be home until very late,’ Anna said. ‘Or I might even end up working through the night.’
‘I’ll come over to your place anyway,’ he said, and she heard the disappointment in his voice. ‘At least that way when you eventually turn up I can give you your birthday present.’
After hanging up, Anna felt a frisson of guilt for not being more appreciative of Tom’s attempt to make her birthday special. And there was no question that she would rather be spending the next few hours in a cosy restaurant than at the scene of a grisly murder.
CHAPTER FOUR (#ulink_bde533cf-add8-5154-9c38-7f595b004c3a)
Anna was back up at the wood when the on-call pathologist arrived. She was pleased to see that it was Gayle Western. The pair had been friends for some years and had a lot in common. They were both divorced and wedded to their jobs. They were also the same height at just over five and a half feet, and they each had long dark hair that was usually pinned up.
Anna was actually a year younger than Gayle but she looked at least five years older thanks to the stress that had left its mark as lines around her eyes and mouth.
‘I see I’m the last to arrive as usual,’ Gayle said, a little breathless from dashing to the scene. ‘You can blame the traffic. I had to come from Mitcham and the roads are virtually gridlocked.’
Gayle had already donned her white suit and was carrying a small black case in each hand.
‘You and I have got to stop only meeting like this,’ Anna said. ‘Do you realise that it’s been four months since we last had a drink together?’
Gayle grinned. ‘And do you realise that we have this same conversation every time we turn up at the scene of a crime?’
It was Anna’s turn to smile. ‘Well, after this one is sorted we should make a point of arranging something.’
‘Most definitely. I’m keen to catch up on all your news, and I know there’s an awful lot of it. In the last couple of weeks it seems you’ve become the most high-profile copper in the Met.’
‘You always were prone to exaggeration, Gayle.’
‘Not this time, my friend. You were all over the media during the kidnap case, and I’ve read that article in the Evening Standard about your ex-husband. Wow. What happened to him must have shaken you to the core.’
Anna nodded. ‘You can say that again. But you’ll have to wait for me to fill you in on the gory details. Right now there’s a young lady over there who needs your full attention.’
Gayle got straight down to business. She walked over to the body, placed her cases on the ground, and then looked at what lay before her with a studied expression. After about thirty seconds she knelt down to examine the body and the area around it.
Anna looked on from a distance, knowing that Gayle did not like to be distracted during the initial assessment. As with all good forensic pathologists she was methodical in her approach and would never express an opinion or answer a question until she was good and ready.
Eventually, Gayle spoke without looking up.
‘Well, the level of decomposition and other factors relating to the state of the body suggest to me that this poor lass has been dead for three or four days. And there’s little doubt in my mind that the cause of death was a stab wound to the left side of the throat. It looks as though the blade probably severed a carotid artery and penetrated the trachea. I’ll know for sure when I carry out the post-mortem. Death would have been fairly quick and there would have been a lot of blood.’
‘It’s now Friday so we’re talking Tuesday or Wednesday,’ Anna said.
Gayle nodded. ‘My guess would be Tuesday or Tuesday night. It’s rained only once this week and that was on Wednesday morning. There are streaks on her flesh where it washed away the detritus that had accumulated. The body was clearly dumped here and that would have happened a short time after she was killed, probably a matter of hours. I reckon she was stripped to remove all trace evidence. And it’s likely she was wrapped in a blanket or plastic sheeting while being transported here.’
A cold chill crept over Anna’s shoulders and down her neck. As always she found it a struggle to remain emotionally detached from the distressing sight that she was being forced to bear witness to.
‘Is there any evidence of defence wounds?’ she asked.
‘None that I can see,’ Gayle said. ‘But I’ll know for sure after she’s cleaned up.’
‘What about signs of sexual assault?’
‘Nothing that’s obvious. There’s definitely no bruising on her inner thighs which is usually a tell-tale sign.’
As Anna made notes, Gayle asked a forensics officer to help her turn the body over. As they did so Anna saw that the flattened undergrowth beneath it was swarming with insects.
‘She’s got a tattoo,’ Gayle said, and Anna had to step forward and lean over to see it.
The tattoo was at the top of her back between her shoulder blades. It was a simple three-word design in sinuous Gothic script.
BELIEVE IN YOURSELF
‘Hopefully that will help you to identify her,’ Gayle said.
Anna took a photo of the tattoo with her phone. She then attached it to a text that she sent back to headquarters.
Gayle drew her attention to the fact that the dead woman was wearing a silver ring on the middle finger of her left hand.
‘That looks like an expensive piece of bling to me,’ she said as Anna photographed it. ‘You’ll notice also that her nails are painted and her teeth are in good shape. She seems well nourished and there are no needle marks on her arms. So I don’t think she was a homeless person or a druggy.’
Anna looked up as a plane roared overhead, probably on its way to Heathrow airport. She also noticed that the light was fading from the sky. At the same time forensics officers were preparing for nightfall by setting up portable lamps.
Anna knew that the search for clues, even in this small section of the wood, was going to be long and laborious. The person or persons who had left the victim here would have taken care to clear their tracks. And any evidence that had been left behind had probably been contaminated or destroyed by the weather and wildlife.
There was no point her hanging around so she decided to leave the scene to the experts. Gayle told her she would arrange for the body to be removed and said she’d phone if she discovered anything significant.
‘I’ll give the post-mortem priority,’ Gayle added. ‘That means I should have her on the table by late tomorrow morning.’
‘Terrific,’ Anna said. ‘I’ll try to make a point of being there.’
Back at the roadside, Walker informed her that he’d arranged for the road to be closed at either end for the rest of the night. And Sweeny told her that she’d found out the common was owned by the Dean and Chapter of St Paul’s Cathedral.
‘It’s managed by the London Borough of Richmond-upon-Thames,’ she said. ‘An official is on his way here to open the gate so we can move vehicles onto the field.’
Anna looked out across the common, knowing that it wouldn’t be long before the sun vanished below the horizon. But it was still warm and she could feel a tear of sweat trickling down her back.
She was about to fill Walker and Sweeny in on what Gayle had told her when her phone rang. She looked at the screen. It was DC Fellows, calling from headquarters with some unexpected news.
‘We’ve got a probable ID on the victim, ma’am,’ he said. ‘And I guarantee you’re not going to like it.’
CHAPTER FIVE (#ulink_2ea10300-d5ef-5656-a97d-8eb07df2d9bd)
For the second time in as many days Sophie Cameron had the uncomfortable feeling that she was being watched.
She’d felt it yesterday when she strolled from her flat to the mini-mart on the corner. By the time she got there the familiar tingling sensation in her neck had spread through her body.
Now, as she walked briskly along Shoreditch High Street, she felt it again. But just as before it didn’t appear as though she had seized the attention of any of her fellow pedestrians.
She kept stopping to look back along the street and across the road. There were quite a few dubious-looking characters, both men and women, but none of them seemed interested in her.
That didn’t mean she was imagining it, though. She knew from bitter experience that her instincts were sometimes spot on, especially when it came to Him.
He had managed to track her down twice before, so had he done it again? Had he somehow located her in a city of nearly nine million people?
The only person who knew that she was living and working in this part of East London was Lisa. And there was no way her best friend would ever tell anyone. Besides, even Lisa didn’t know her address or where exactly she worked. And whenever they met for a drink, which was about once a month, Lisa always took care to make sure she was never followed.
Sophie stopped again to look behind her, but it was so sudden that a large woman clutching a carrier bag bumped into her.
‘I’m so sorry,’ Sophie said. ‘I didn’t mean …’
‘You should be more careful,’ the woman snapped. ‘In case you haven’t noticed you’re not the only person on the pavement.’
The woman pushed past her and hurried on ahead, one of hundreds of people on the High Street who were anxious to get wherever they were going.
It was the tail-end of the evening rush hour so the main artery through Shoreditch was at its busiest. As Sophie scanned the unfamiliar faces of those who swept past her, she was forced to concede that even if she was being watched or followed, she probably wouldn’t be able to spot her stalker.
She just had to hope that it was indeed all in her mind, an unfounded bout of paranoia fuelled yet again by the fear that she hadn’t seen the last of the demon from her past.
She needed a distraction so she fumbled in her handbag for her phone and earplugs. Then she started listening to her favourite Ed Sheeran tracks as she set off again. It was still only six-forty-five so at least she wasn’t going to be late.
The dental clinic was around the next corner. On Thursday evenings she did the cleaning after the place closed for business. It was one of several private jobs she did to supplement the income from the company that employed her on a part-time basis. The clinic paid her £30 to clean the floors, polish all the surfaces and wipe the insides of the windows. It was easy money and came in handy.
The clinic had already been closed for half an hour by the time Sophie got there. But as usual Claudia Myers, the young manager, was only just preparing to leave.
‘Hi there, Miss Cameron,’ she said with her usual bright smile. ‘How are you today?’
‘I’m fine, thank you, Claudia.’
At twenty-three, Claudia was half Sophie’s age but twice her size. The girl blamed her obesity on the fact that she had type 2 diabetes. But if it bothered her she never showed it and she always struck Sophie as one of the happiest people she had ever come across.
‘Are you sure you’re OK?’ Claudia asked, a frown tugging her eyebrows together. ‘You look flustered.’
Sophie shrugged. ‘That’s because it’s still pretty warm out there and I’ve been walking fast.’
Actually the truth is I’ve got myself in a state because I think someone has been following me.
‘Well, you’ll be glad to know that we finished earlier than usual today,’ Claudia said. ‘So I’ve done quite a bit of tidying up myself. I even managed to go round with the hoover so you only need to mop the floors.’
‘You shouldn’t have,’ Sophie said. ‘That’s what you pay me for.’
‘I know, but I had to hang around because I’m meeting a friend in the pub across the road. It gave me something to do. And speaking of pay, I’ve left your money in the usual place.’
Claudia picked up her shoulder bag and headed for the door. But before stepping outside, she turned back to Sophie and said, ‘By the way, how is that girl of yours? You told me last week that she wasn’t very well.’
‘Oh, she’s absolutely fine,’ Sophie said. ‘It was just a tummy bug and it only lasted a few days. I’ve left her at home watching one of the latest teen movies.’
‘Well, be sure to give her my regards.’
‘I will.’
After Claudia had gone, Sophie set to work. She went to the utility cupboard and took out what she needed. It wasn’t a big clinic. There were two treatment rooms, a small office, a unisex toilet, a waiting room and a carpeted reception area.
It took Sophie an hour to get through it and she finished up back in reception where she sat on the leather sofa to drink a glass of water from the cooler.
A bunch of magazines and a copy of the Evening Standard were spread haphazardly across the coffee table in front of her. It looked untidy so Sophie put the magazines in a neat pile and checked the date on the newspaper. It was a day old so she picked it up to put in the bin with the other rubbish she’d collected.
But as she did so the paper fell open at a page dominated by three large photographs of a man, a woman and a toddler in a high chair. It was the photo of the man that jumped out at her.
‘Oh, dear God, it can’t be,’ Sophie gasped out loud.
But a moment later, after checking the caption beneath the photo, the cold reality of what she was looking at caused a wave of panic to wash over her. And even before she began to read the words on the page, she knew that her life was about to implode yet again.
CHAPTER SIX (#ulink_314cd1d1-6b14-51c0-9975-6f1978670ded)
Over an hour had passed since DC Fellows had called Anna to tell her they had a probable ID on the victim. Since then the team had gathered more information and they were now ninety-nine per cent sure they knew who she was.
There would have to be a formal identification process, of course, but Anna was already working on the basis that the body on the common was that of twenty-three-year-old Holly Blake.
It was good news in the sense that it gave the investigation a jump start. But the bad news was that her identity alone was going to ramp up the pressure on the team from the word go.
‘The media will be all over it just like they were with the nursery investigation,’ Anna told her detectives after racing back to headquarters. ‘So brace yourselves. And let’s just hope it will be an easy one to solve.’
Anna had returned to Wandsworth in the pool car with DI Walker, leaving DC Sweeny to look after things at the common. She had wanted to put everyone in the picture and assign tasks as quickly as possible, and preferably before the press got wind of what was going on.
The wheels of the investigation had already been put in motion. A whiteboard had been set up and on it was pinned a photograph of the victim downloaded from her Facebook account, plus images of her body in the undergrowth taken from Walker’s phone. In addition there was a map of the common showing roads that went around it and through it.
As Anna stepped up to the board, the room fell silent, save for the ringing of a couple of phones. The nine detectives who were present were poised to take notes and ask questions.
Anna tapped a finger against the photo of the woman. In it she was smiling at the camera, white teeth glistening, a sparkle in her bright blue eyes.
‘This is Holly Blake,’ she said. ‘A freelance model aged twenty-three. She was reported missing by her mother yesterday because she hadn’t been seen or heard from since Tuesday. She bears a striking resemblance to the young woman found naked on Barnes Common earlier this evening. But that’s not all.’
Anna moved away from the whiteboard to a large TV monitor mounted on a stand. She nodded at DC Fellows, who took it as his cue to bring the screen to life remotely from his desktop computer.
The image that appeared was of Holly Blake’s Facebook profile and there was a montage of photographs showing her in various outfits and poses. She was quite beautiful, Anna noted, and it looked as though she had been brimming with life and confidence.
Anna pointed to one particular photo which showed Holly standing on a beach in a bikini. She was glancing back over her shoulder while poking her tongue out at the camera. The photo suddenly filled the screen and Anna drew everyone’s attention to the tattoo between her shoulders.
‘The young woman on the common has an identical tattoo in exactly the same place,’ she said. The picture was replaced by another one showing Holly cupping her bare breasts in her hands. Anna indicated the silver ring on the middle finger of her left hand. ‘She also has a silver ring exactly like this one and on the same finger. I therefore have no doubt in my mind that it’s Holly Blake whose murder we’ll be investigating.’
Anna turned back to her audience and took a long breath before continuing.
‘DI Walker and I will go see her parents straight after this briefing. They live in Pimlico. While we’re doing that I want DS Prescott and DC Niven to check out Holly’s flat. We have an address in Camden.
‘I’ll come to what we know about Holly and her family in a moment. And it’ll be pretty obvious to all of you why this is no run-of-the-mill case. But first let me put you in the picture regarding the scene up at the common.’
Anna explained how dog walker Joyce Connor had stumbled across the body in the undergrowth. She pinpointed the location on the map and described the surrounding area.
‘The pathologist believes she was murdered elsewhere and left on the common shortly afterwards,’ she said. ‘The cause of death is almost certainly a single stab wound to the throat. She was stripped naked before her body was dumped and the killer or killers did not spend a lot of time trying to conceal her.
‘It’s believed she’s been dead for several days and it’s likely she was killed on Tuesday or Tuesday night. Nothing has so far been found at the scene to identify her. No phone. No clothes. No bag. At first light a search team will descend on the area but I’m not expecting them to turn up much vital evidence, if any. We believe the vehicle that carried her there parked next to the gate. But the ground around it has been trampled on so it’s unlikely we’ll get any clues from it.’
As Anna spoke an image of the body resurfaced in her mind and it sent a chill down her spine. It was such a tragedy that a girl who obviously had so much going for her should end her life in such horrendous circumstances.
‘The obvious questions are these,’ Anna said. ‘Who killed her and why? When and where was the murder carried out? Why was the body dumped in that particular place? Was it because the killer was in a hurry or simply didn’t worry about it being discovered? And why was she stripped, since there seems to be no evidence as yet that she was sexually assaulted?’
At this point Anna handed over to Walker, who was standing off to one side with a notebook in his hand.
‘I’ve already drawn up a list of checks that need to be carried out right away,’ he said. ‘So I’m afraid you will all be working late into the night.’ He looked down at his notes as he ran a hand across his bald head. ‘We need to pull Holly’s phone records and get the techies to go through her social media history. We know she’s been busy on Facebook for years. So check out Twitter, Instagram and the others.
‘There’s plenty of information online about her, including the fact that she’s on the books of a London-based modelling agency. From what I’ve seen it doesn’t appear that she was a hugely successful model. But she’s done jobs for fashion magazines, clothing catalogues and swimwear companies. Let’s also check all CCTV cameras around the common. Presumably her body was driven to the spot sometime on Tuesday or maybe early on Wednesday morning.’
Walker then handed back to Anna, who signalled for DC Fellows to change the image on the TV monitor. Holly’s photo was replaced by a picture of a woman who looked like an older version of her. She had the same oval face, full lips and well-defined jawline.
‘This is Holly’s mother,’ Anna said. ‘As I’m sure you all know her name is Rebecca Blake, and she’s the reason that we’re going to be under pressure like never before. And that pressure won’t just come from the media. It will also come from the top brass in the Met and from the Home Office. At this stage we have no idea why Holly Blake was murdered. But we can’t rule out the possibility that it had something to do with her mother.’
CHAPTER SEVEN (#ulink_0a172193-39f3-5699-b9fa-eeec97001eeb)
Having read the article in the Evening Standard, Sophie was struggling to keep her emotions in check. The words had proved as shocking as the three photographs that covered half the page.
She continued to sit there in the clinic’s reception, her breath stalled as the blood pounded in her ears.
She didn’t want to believe the evidence of her own eyes, but she had no choice. The facts, as laid out, spoke for themselves. They revealed a story that was both sensational and tragic. A story that revolved around a London police officer named Anna Tate.
The woman’s photograph was the largest of the three that had been published to help illustrate the article. Sophie squinted at what she considered to be a plain, unremarkable face. Tate had sharp features and dark hair down to her shoulders. She was in her early forties, according to the paper, but looked older.
Sophie let out her breath and returned her attention to the beginning of the article. She re-read it because her mind had struggled to take it all in the first time.
But as soon as she started her anxiety grew, and a hard knot formed in her stomach.
A MOTHER’S TEN YEAR NIGHTMARE
An Evening Standard two-part exclusive
DCI Anna Tate is the detective in charge of the Major Investigation Team based in South London.
She made headlines two weeks ago when she led the hunt for the kidnappers of nine children from a nursery school in Rotherhithe.
During the investigation it came to light that ten years ago her own two-year-old daughter Chloe was abducted and is still missing.
Thanks to an extraordinary twist of fate the kidnapping case has led to a dramatic development in the search for Chloe – but it has also raised fresh fears over the girl’s safety.
Anna has told her story to the Standard because she believes that the more people who know about it the more chance there is that she’ll one day be reunited with her daughter, who is now twelve.
Sophie’s throat tightened suddenly and for a few seconds she had to fight to get the air into her lungs.
The words on the page became blurred so she closed her eyes and willed herself to stay calm despite the panic that had seized her chest.
She was briefly tempted to stop reading and to throw the paper in the bin. But she knew that wasn’t an option. She had exposed herself to a cold, hard truth and there was no way she could run from it.
She snapped her eyes open and forced herself to take each breath slowly and carefully as she continued to read.
Detective Anna Tate’s nightmare began one day in July 2009, six months after she divorced her husband, Matthew Dobson, because of his adultery. He’d been trying to persuade her to take him back but she’d refused. As a result he decided to seek revenge.
He regularly looked after their daughter as part of a joint custody arrangement. But on that day he failed to take Chloe home when he was supposed to. Instead he disappeared with her and sent Anna a text message which read:
You won’t let us be a family again because I made a stupid mistake. So I’m starting my life afresh with my lovely daughter. Don’t bother trying to find us because you never will. You have yourself to blame, Anna. You should have known that I wouldn’t let you have a happy life if I couldn’t be a part of it … M
Anna discovered that he had packed in his job, sold his car and moved out of his flat. As Anna’s police colleagues launched a hunt for Dobson and his daughter, it was feared he had taken her abroad.
Horrific
Anna heard nothing for ten years, but she didn’t give up searching for Chloe. She ran various social media campaigns which included a dedicated FindChloe Facebook page and website. And she hired a private investigator to try to find them.
Then, just over two weeks ago, came the horrific abductions of the children from the Peabody Nursery School. Anna appeared on the television news and among the millions of people who saw her was a man named Paul Russell. He was compelled to contact her and his message was:
If you can find the time to come and see me I can tell you what I know about your daughter and her father. And I can apologise for the part I played in what happened ten years ago.
Anna went to see Paul Russell in a London hospice where he has since died of cancer. But in what amounts to a deathbed confession he revealed to Anna that he used to be a master forger who provided fake documents to criminals, illegal immigrants and anyone else who was willing to pay him.
Passports
Anna’s ex-husband was one of his customers. Matthew Dobson wanted fake passports for himself and his daughter. Russell produced them for him in the names of James and Alice Miller.
This was a significant development as far as Anna was concerned, but another staggering revelation was to follow. Russell told her that Dobson had contacted him three years ago asking for more fake documents because he and Chloe were returning to the UK from whichever country they had been living in.
Anna passed on this information to her private investigator who went on to find out that James Miller (aka Matthew Dobson) did indeed come back to the UK three years ago. However, shortly after setting up home in Southampton he was murdered.
Anna went to see the detective who led the murder investigation. She had lots of questions for him but the most important was: ‘Now you need to tell me what’s happened to my baby. Where is Chloe?’
Find out what DCI Anna Tate was told in tomorrow’s Evening Standard.
By the time Sophie had finished reading the article her eyes were brimming with tears and her mind was dull with shock. She also felt dizzy, nauseous, as though she were about to pass out.
To stop that happening she made herself stand up and walk unsteadily across reception to the toilet. Once inside she leaned over the sink and splashed cold water on her face. The feeling of nausea receded but her head continued to spin as a wave of despair washed over her.
She got another shock when she saw herself in the mirror. She was deathly white and the fearful expression in her eyes was evidence of the sense of dread that now consumed her.
She had only read the first instalment of the Anna Tate story. On the way back to the flat she intended to pick up today’s edition of the Evening Standard. And she knew with a high degree of certainty that it would contain more devastating details about the considerable threat she now faced.
CHAPTER EIGHT (#ulink_a68673d2-7360-566f-9bb8-d2f1afd62af4)
Anna received two calls in quick succession minutes after she’d finished briefing the team.
The first she answered as she and Walker were exiting the building on their way to break the news of Holly’s death to her parents. It was DCS Nash. He wanted to tell her that he had spoken to Police Commissioner Gary Trimble, the Met’s supreme leader.
‘He’ll be calling you himself for an update,’ Nash said. ‘So be prepared. He wants to impress on you how sensitive this case is going to be.’
‘Well, he won’t be telling me anything I don’t already know, sir,’ Anna said.
‘Obviously, but just so you know, he asked me if I was sure that you’re the right person for the job.’
‘Really? Why was that?’
A moment’s hesitation, then: ‘He mentioned those new developments in respect of your daughter. He’s read what’s appeared in the Evening Standard and he’s aware that Channel Four are looking to do a documentary. Whilst he has every sympathy for you he’s concerned that it will prove to be a distraction.’
‘Well, it won’t be,’ Anna said.
‘Which is exactly what I told him. I said you had my full support. So don’t let me down.’
‘I won’t, sir.’
Anna had just closed the passenger door of the pool car when her phone rang again. Before she answered it she clicked on her seat belt and told Walker to start driving.
‘Good evening, Commissioner,’ she said. ‘Detective Chief Superintendent Nash told me to expect a call.’
Trimble had been in the job for a year and this was only the second time that Anna had spoken to him. She had a lot of respect for the man because he had risen to such dizzy heights by the relatively tender age of forty-five.
‘First I need to know if you’re certain that the body that’s been found on Barnes Common is that of Holly Blake,’ Trimble said without preamble.
‘There’s little doubt, I’m afraid,’ Anna told him. ‘We’ve downloaded a bunch of pictures of Holly from the internet. There’s a definite match and in one of them you can see a tattoo on her back. The victim has the same tattoo in the same position.’
‘Has her mother been informed?’
‘I’m on my way to do that now, Commissioner.’
‘Well, rather you than me, detective,’ Trimble said. ‘Rebecca and I go back a long way from her time on the force. So I know she’s going to be absolutely devastated. She doted on her daughter.’
‘How well do you know Mrs Blake, sir?’ Anna asked.
‘We were colleagues, but we never got together outside work,’ Trimble said. ‘Since she left the Met our paths have crossed several times at various functions. The last time was earlier this year when I shared a table with Rebecca and her husband Theo at an awards dinner.’
‘Theo Blake’s a lawyer, isn’t he?’
‘He’s a senior partner in a firm of solicitors. I take it you know that he was Holly’s stepfather. He married Rebecca four years ago after she divorced her first husband.’
‘I wasn’t aware of that,’ Anna said. ‘There’s a lot I need to find out about everyone in Holly’s life.’
‘Well, bear in mind that as a former Assistant Commissioner in the Met, Rebecca Blake has a lot of friends on the force. She was popular among her colleagues and I’ve no doubt they’ll all want to help with the investigation.’
‘I met her myself once,’ Anna said. ‘It was shortly after my daughter was abducted. She offered to help in any way she could.’
‘She’s a very generous and caring person,’ Trimble said. ‘That’s why she’s doing so well as a politician. But this tragedy is bound to have a serious impact on her life and that includes her bid to become the Mayor of London.’
The involvement of any politician in a major investigation always created problems – from the amount of publicity they generated to the pressure they sought to apply when they felt threatened.
But Rebecca Blake wasn’t just any politician. She already had the ear of the Prime Minister and was set to be a high-flyer in political circles.
At present she held the influential post of Leader of the Conservative-controlled Westminster Council. It was a position she took up after retiring from the police. In addition she was now the Tory Party’s chosen candidate in the forthcoming election for the role of London’s Mayor.
The main thrust of her campaign had been a commitment to substantially reduce crime in the capital, something the current incumbent had failed to achieve after almost four years in office.
‘I’ll make a point of contacting Rebecca myself tomorrow,’ Trimble said. ‘It might reassure her to know that I’m taking a personal interest.’
‘Of course, sir,’ Anna said. ‘But before you go there’s something I need to mention.’
‘What is it?’
‘Well, it’s early days and so we don’t know why Holly was murdered. The motive might become evident very quickly, but if it doesn’t then I think we should explore the possibility that it was committed by someone who has a grudge against the mother. I’m sure that like the rest of us on the force Mrs Blake made enemies along the way and it could be that one of them wants to see her suffer. Or maybe the aim is to stop her becoming London’s Mayor because of her crusade against crime.’
‘It’s a plausible theory, DCI Tate,’ Trimble said. ‘And I’m sure it’s one that will fuel the inevitable media frenzy. But it’s a line of enquiry that I want us to play down unless we come across some solid evidence to support it.’
‘Understood, sir.’
‘Meanwhile I’ll expect you to provide me with regular updates via DCS Nash. And it goes without saying that you’ll have all the manpower and resources you need to crack this case. Just don’t lose sight of the fact that every move you make will be scrutinised, and not just by me. I know you were under considerable pressure during the nursery kidnap investigation, but this will be a different kind of pressure and on some levels it will be even more intense.’
‘So what’s the word from on high?’ Walker asked after Anna came off the phone to the Commissioner.
‘He warned me to tread carefully, keep him in the loop and expect a lot of pressure,’ she said.
‘Well, that was to be expected given who the victim’s mother is.’
‘Yeah, I suppose.’
‘So why do I get the impression that you’re mightily pissed off, guv?’
Anna heaved a sigh. ‘He had the bloody cheek to ask Nash if I was the right person to head up the investigation. If the boss hadn’t assured him that I was then I’d probably be on my way home now.’
Walker frowned. ‘I don’t understand. Does Trimble actually think the case is too sensitive for you to handle?’
‘It’s not that. Nash said he raised the issue of Chloe and he’s worried that I’ll take my eye off the ball because of all the new stuff. He’s read the Evening Standard piece and has been told that I’ve been approached by C4.’
‘C4?’
‘Channel Four,’ Anna said. ‘They want to do a true crime programme on me.’
‘Bloody hell, guv. That’s a huge deal. Why haven’t you mentioned it?’
‘I only found out myself just before we left the office to go to the common. I pushed it to the back of my mind for obvious reasons.’
They stopped at traffic lights and Walker turned to face her.
‘Then in all fairness, you can’t blame the Commissioner for being a teensy bit concerned,’ he said. ‘I’ve told you before that there are times when even I don’t know how the hell you manage to stay focused on the job.’
Anna gave him a sharp look, so he quickly added, ‘And before you go off on one, guv, just remember that we’ve had this conversation several times so you know that I have a point. You also know that I trust you to do a good job on every case despite the fact that you have more on your plate than anyone deserves.’
His words took the wind out of her sails, so instead of snapping at him, she said, ‘You’re the only person I know who would dare say that to me, Max. And the only person who’d get away with it.’
‘Well, I like to think that’s because we’re friends as well as colleagues,’ he said. ‘And friends say it like it is whilst remaining loyal to each other.’
Anna shook her head and smiled. ‘You do have a way with words, Max. I’ll grant you that. And I bet your wife finds it so bloody annoying.’
He laughed. ‘She sure does, but she puts up with it because she knows I’m always right.’
‘You smug bastard.’
The pair enjoyed a good working relationship, and Anna knew that Walker would always have her back. For instance, two years ago she received an anonymous tip that a man matching her ex-husband’s description had been spotted in a Paris suburb. It was during a big murder investigation and she knew her superiors would not have let her take time off to check it out. So she confided in Walker and he told her to go there and then covered for her. They stayed in touch by phone and she returned to London forty-eight hours later after it turned out the man in question wasn’t Matthew after all.
Walker was one of the few people who had encouraged her never to give up searching for her daughter. Most were of the opinion that it had become a pointless obsession and that she needed to get on with her life and accept that she would never see Chloe again.
Walker understood how she felt, mainly because he had two young daughters of his own. She couldn’t help feeling jealous of him, though, and of her other colleagues in MIT who were mothers and fathers. Whenever they talked about their kids it reinforced the extent of her loss.
Walker was more sensitive to her feelings than the rest of them. He said to her once, ‘I can feel your pain, ma’am. I really don’t know how I’d cope if I was in your position. I’m not sure I’d even have the strength to carry on.’
Anna carried on because for her giving up was not an option. However, there had been times over the past ten years when she’d almost convinced herself that she was wasting her time.
In the months after Matthew abducted Chloe it was easy to believe that they’d be found or that Matthew would accept that he was in the wrong and bring her back from wherever he’d taken her.
At that time everyone was rooting for the heartbroken mother and the story was attracting a lot of publicity. Thousands of people reacted to her social media campaigns and appeals, and there was good reason to hope that she would be reunited with Chloe before her daughter’s third birthday. But interest in the story eventually waned and the abduction became old news.
In a little while Chloe would be thirteen and still Anna had no idea where she was. All she did know for certain was that she was no longer with her father because he was murdered three years ago in a park in Southampton.
CHAPTER NINE (#ulink_4d201f97-6969-5157-b624-a5f2d0451c8f)
Rebecca Blake and her husband lived in Pimlico, a small, upscale residential area of London bordered by Westminster and Belgravia. Scores of politicians had homes there because the quiet streets were within walking distance of the Houses of Parliament. The three-storey property owned by Rebecca and Theo Blake was in a cobbled mews close to St George’s Square.
It was approaching nine p.m. when Anna and Walker arrived in the pool car and parked in front of the blue-painted garage. The lights were on inside so Anna thought it likely that the couple were at home.
As she climbed out of the car her stomach churned at the thought of what they were about to do. No matter how many times she had delivered the devastating news of a person’s death it had never got any easier. And it was made worse this time because she had met the woman whose life she was about to ruin.
It was Theo Blake who answered the door. Anna recognised him at once from the photos she’d seen on the web. He was a tall, rakishly handsome man who looked to be in his mid-fifties. Grey stubble bristled on his head and chin, and his corduroy trousers and black cardigan gave him the rumpled appearance of an academic.
Anna had already taken her ID from her pocket and she held it up for him to see.
‘Hello, Mr Blake,’ she said. ‘I’m Detective Chief Inspector Anna Tate and this is my colleague, Detective Inspector Max Walker. We need to talk to you and your wife. Is Mrs Blake in right now?’
Theo cocked his head to one side and frowned. ‘Is this about Holly? Has she turned up?’
‘It would be best if we spoke to you inside and together,’ Anna said. ‘So please may we come in?’
The man’s face clouded with confusion.
‘This sounds ominous,’ he said. ‘Can’t you just tell me what …’
‘Who is it, dear? Is there a problem?’
He snapped his head towards the voice, which belonged to his wife. She had stepped into the hallway behind him while tying up the belt of a long silk bathrobe.
When she saw them she froze, and her eyes grew wide.
‘What’s going on?’ she said.
Her husband started to speak, but Anna beat him to it.
‘We’re police officers, Mrs Blake, and we need to have a word with you and your husband. It’s about your daughter. My name is Anna Tate and I’m a DCI with the Major Investigation Team. And this is DI Walker.’
Anna didn’t wait to be invited in and she had no intention of breaking the news to them at the door. As she stepped over the threshold, she gently grasped Theo’s arm and nudged him along the hallway while Walker closed the front door behind them.
‘Can I suggest that we go into the living room,’ she said.
Rebecca’s mouth fell open and Anna could see the panic in her eyes.
‘What’s happened?’ the woman said, her lips trembling. ‘Do you know where Holly is? Please tell me she’s all right.’
‘I’ll tell you everything I know, Mrs Blake, but I really think you need to sit down first.’
Theo hurried forward and put his arm around his wife’s shoulders, easing her back into the room she had emerged from.
‘Stay calm, Becs, and don’t jump to conclusions,’ he told her.
Anna felt a wave of heat roll up her chest as she followed them into the living room, which was large and airy with stylish grey furniture and patio doors that gave access to a neat walled garden.
She waited for them to sit side by side on the leather sofa before sitting opposite them on a matching armchair. Walker stood off to one side with his hands behind his back.
It was almost ten years since Anna’s brief meeting with Scotland Yard’s former Assistant Commissioner. She’d seen her many times since then on the television promoting various causes as well as her own political career. It had always struck Anna how little the woman had seemed to age. But now, seen close up without make-up, Rebecca Blake looked all of her fifty-three years.
She was a thin woman with a small oval face and dark hair that was tied back. Her nose was pointed and delicate with slightly flared nostrils. As her teal-blue eyes shifted between the two detectives, she pressed her lips together, which etched deep lines around her mouth.
Anna cleared her throat and was still searching for the right words when Rebecca said, ‘I’ve seen you before, haven’t I? You were the lead on the nursery kidnapping case. And it was your daughter who …’ Her voice trailed off and she drew a sharp breath. ‘Oh, my God, we met once. I remember.’
‘We did indeed,’ Anna said.
Rebecca swallowed hard and took another deep breath. ‘You’ve got bad news for us, haven’t you? So what is it, detective?’
Anna leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. The look on Rebecca’s face froze the blood in her veins.
‘A young woman’s body has been found,’ she said. ‘And there’s convincing evidence to indicate that it’s Holly.’
A choking sound rushed out of Rebecca and she started to shake her head.
‘No, that’s not possible,’ she screamed. ‘It must be a mistake. It has to be.’
‘We don’t think it’s a mistake,’ Anna said. ‘The description fits Holly and the dead woman has the same tattoo in the same place on her back. We will, of course, need one or both of you to carry out a formal identification. I’m so very sorry.’
Rebecca’s whole body convulsed and she let out an anguished cry. Her husband enveloped her in his arms and scrunched up his face as he fought back his own tears.
Anna looked on helplessly, aware that there was nothing she could say or do to ease their pain and suffering. She knew from her own bitter experience that elements of the big bad world can turn up at your door when you least expect it, shattering your life and redirecting your future towards an emotional abyss.
She threw a glance over her shoulder at Walker and saw that he had picked up a framed photograph from the sideboard. It was one of several on display and they were all of Holly.
‘How sure are you that it’s our daughter?’ Theo said suddenly, his voice a hollow rasp.
Anna turned back to them. ‘I’m positive. If I wasn’t I’d be offering you a crumb of hope. But that wouldn’t be fair in the circumstances.’
She took out her phone, pulled up the photo she’d taken of the ring on the dead woman’s finger.
‘Do you recognise this?’ she said, showing it to both of them.
Rebecca flinched and nodded. ‘It’s Holly’s. I’m sure of it because I bought it for her myself on her twenty-first birthday. Oh, Jesus, when can we see her?’
‘Tomorrow morning, Mrs Blake. I’ll make the arrangements.’
‘So why can’t we see her now?’ Theo asked.
‘It’s too early, I’m afraid. The body was discovered only a few hours ago and it may still be in situ.’
‘And where is that?’
‘Barnes Common in South West London,’ Anna said.
Sobs had continued to rack his wife’s body while this exchange was taking place. Now she straightened herself, wiped at her eyes with her sleeve, and said, ‘Since you’re here, Detective Chief Inspector, I’m assuming that foul play is suspected.’
Anna nodded. ‘That’s right, Mrs Blake. We’ve launched a murder investigation.’
Rebecca squeezed her eyes shut for a couple of seconds and when she opened them again, she said, ‘I want the details and I don’t want you to hold anything back from us.’
Anna’s stomach tightened and her mouth dried up.
‘The victim suffered a stab wound to the throat,’ she said. ‘She was naked and her body had been covered with ferns and branches. However, we’re not sure at this stage if she was sexually assaulted, but it doesn’t appear so. She was discovered by a woman walking her dog. The pathologist believes she was killed several days ago, perhaps on Tuesday evening, and left on the common soon afterwards. We found out that you’d reported your daughter missing. So we downloaded Holly’s photos from Facebook and realised that her description was a match for the victim.’
Rebecca bit into her bottom lip and her husband started patting the back of her hand.
‘I therefore need to ask you some questions,’ Anna said. ‘I know it’s going to be difficult for you to answer them but please try to.’
Rebecca gave a slow nod and tears slid down her cheeks. ‘I know the routine, Detective Tate. And I fully appreciate that it has to be done.’
She pushed her shoulders back and tried to compose herself. It seemed to Anna that she suddenly looked smaller, as though she’d been crushed by the weight of shock and grief.
‘So let’s get this over with,’ Rebecca said.
Anna nodded. ‘I’ll start with the most obvious questions. Do either of you have any idea who might have done this, assuming it wasn’t a random attack by a person or persons unknown to Holly? Has she upset anyone recently or is there someone you know who has a grudge against her?’
Rebecca clenched her jaw and pursed her lips. When she spoke her voice cracked with emotion.
‘There’s only one person I know who would want to take my daughter’s life,’ she said. ‘I can give you his name and I can tell you where you can find him. And I’m convinced that he’s the bastard who either killed her or got someone to do it for him.’
CHAPTER TEN (#ulink_98001ebe-891a-59d6-a4fb-c30c24dfb4b7)
Sophie had picked up a copy of the Evening Standard after leaving the dental clinic. And she’d been so anxious to read it that she’d considered popping into a café or pub rather than wait until she got home. But the feeling that she was being watched had returned as soon as she’d hit the High Street, so she’d decided to get back to the flat as quickly as she could.
From the moment she stepped through her front door she was battered by a perfect storm of panic and paranoia. She was even grappling with the chilling thought that if she was indeed being stalked then it might have something to do with the revelations in the paper. If so, then perhaps it was already too late to prevent her world from falling apart.
Alice had still been up, of course, so Sophie had made every effort to pretend that nothing was wrong.
‘Has the film finished, sweetheart?’ she’d asked as she’d walked into the living room with a fake smile on her face.
Alice had jumped up from the sofa, her tablet in one hand, a bag of crisps in the other.
‘Ages ago,’ she’d said. ‘And it was really good. I’m going to watch it again tomorrow.’
‘Now why doesn’t that surprise me?’
Alice had crossed the room and Sophie had wrapped her in her arms.
‘And thank you for looking after the flat while I was at work,’ she’d said. ‘I take it nobody rang the bell.’
‘No one ever does, Mum. You know that. And even if someone did, I would never answer it. You know that as well.’
‘Of course I do. And that’s why I trust you.’
Alice was a mature twelve-year-old and Sophie was glad of it because it made things so much easier. She rarely answered back or threw a tantrum, and she had such a pleasant, sensitive nature that it was hard to ever be cross with her.
That didn’t mean that she was a goody-two-shoes, though. She often demonstrated to Sophie that she had a mind of her own and a stubborn streak that she’d no doubt inherited from her late father.
‘It’s time for bed now, sweetheart,’ Sophie had told her. ‘Finish your crisps, clean your teeth and get yourself ready.’
‘Remember I’m going to Ruth’s house tomorrow.’
‘I haven’t forgotten. I told Ruth’s mum that I would drop you off between ten and eleven.’
Alice was in bed and asleep before eight o’clock and by nine-thirty Sophie was half way through her second bottle of wine. Getting drunk was her way of dealing with the despair that now engulfed her. The alcohol dulled her senses and took the edge off the pain that she’d inflicted on herself by reading the second instalment of the Anna Tate story in the Evening Standard. She felt the sting of tears in her eyes as she tried through a boozy haze to process what she had learned along with the wretched implications.
She was sitting at the kitchen table in the downdraught of the ceiling fan. In front of her she’d spread out the centre pages of that day’s Standard. There were more photographs, and every time Sophie looked at them her heart lurched in her chest.
Detective Anna Tate featured in two of them. One showed her speaking at a press conference during the nursery kidnap case two weeks ago. In the other – taken ten years ago – she was holding her two-year-old daughter in her arms while smiling broadly at the camera. The caption beneath it read: Anna and Chloe just weeks before her ex-husband Matthew Dobson abducted the child and fled abroad with her.
Next to it was what the paper described as an age progression photo of Chloe. Beneath it were the words: This is a computer-generated impression of what Chloe might look like now at the age of twelve.
The image had taken Sophie’s breath away when she’d first laid eyes on it. And even now it was causing a riot of emotions to run through her.
‘I just can’t believe this is happening,’ she said aloud to herself before losing control for the second time that evening. She buried her face in her hands as the tears flowed. Her body shook, and bile burned furiously at the back of her throat.
It was at least a minute before she managed to stop crying. She wiped her eyes and poured herself another glass of wine. She told herself it’d be the last before she sloped off to bed, where she would no doubt lie awake trying to come to terms with the revelation that her life had been filled with so many lies.
As she drank, her eyes were drawn back to the newspaper and she found herself re-reading the second part of the Anna Tate story. And once again the words stirred up bitter memories that sadly had not been subdued by the passage of time.
A MOTHER’S TEN YEAR NIGHTMARE
Part two of this Evening Standard exclusive
DCI Anna Tate is currently one of the most high-profile detectives in the Metropolitan Police. She was in the headlines recently as the officer in charge of the hunt for the gang who kidnapped nine children from a South London nursery school and murdered one of their teachers.
Yesterday we explained why that case was so close to her heart. Her own daughter Chloe was abducted ten years ago by her ex-husband and she hasn’t seen either of them since.
But Anna has never given up searching for Chloe, who was two when she was taken.
Sophie skimmed over the next few paragraphs which repeated the information contained in part one – how during the nursery investigation Anna discovered that Matthew had obtained fake passports in the names of James and Alice Miller before disappearing, and how she learned that Matthew had actually returned to the UK with his daughter three years ago but weeks later was murdered in a park close to where they’d set up home in Southampton.
Today’s article picked the story up where the first instalment ended – with Anna meeting the detective who investigated Matthew’s murder and asking him: ‘So where is my baby? Where’s Chloe?’
The answer Anna was given came as another devastating blow.
‘We simply don’t know,’ the detective informed her. ‘The child disappeared along with the woman who had been living with her and her father.’
It transpired that Anna’s ex-husband and daughter had been sharing a rented house with a mystery woman for three weeks. But on the night Matthew was murdered the woman was seen leaving the house with Chloe and several suitcases. They drove away from Southampton in a car that Matthew had hired in the name of James Miller. The car was later found abandoned in London.
Mystery
The murder of Matthew Dobson (aka James Miller) is as intriguing as the mystery surrounding the sudden disappearance of the woman he had described to their landlord as his partner.
He was stabbed to death one evening while walking through a park in Southampton city centre. It was dark and there were no witnesses, but there were signs he’d been involved in a struggle.
‘Police found a mobile phone in his pocket and it seems he made one last call before he died,’ Anna told the Standard. ‘The call was to a number that was still transmitting a signal later that night. That was how the police found out where he’d been living.’
But when officers later called at the house they found it had been cleared of all personal possessions except for the unregistered phone that Matthew had called. And there was no way of knowing who it belonged to. The log only showed calls to and from Matthew’s own phone.
Buried
The murder investigation is still open three years on but the police have no idea why he was stabbed or by whom. It’s now believed that Matthew probably called the woman to tell her to flee the house with his daughter.
Before leaving Southampton, Anna learned that her ex-husband had been buried in a city cemetery, so she visited his grave.
His headstone, paid for by the council, carried the simple inscription:
Here lies James Miller. May he rest in peace.
The real name of the man in the grave is now known to be Matthew Dobson. But to Anna Tate’s immense frustration his secrets died with him. She’s left with questions that she’s desperate to know the answers to.
Who killed her ex-husband and why?
Was his death linked in any way to his return to the UK?
Why did he return from wherever he’d been living for seven years?
Why did he settle in Southampton of all places?
How long had he been with the mystery woman?
And where did she take Chloe?
Nightmare
‘The fact that the woman left the house in such a hurry after Matthew was killed suggests to me that she was scared,’ Anna said. ‘But the police don’t know who she was running from.’
Anna has told her story in the hope that someone somewhere has information that might bring her ten year nightmare to an end.
‘I live in hope,’ the detective said. ‘And I’ll search for my daughter until I find her, no matter how long that takes.’
Sophie’s mind was ranging in all directions as she finished reading the article, and more tears were welling up in her eyes.
It was too much for her to take in, too much to get her head around with a bottle and a half of wine sloshing around inside her.
She pushed her chair back and stood up, which made her feel dizzy.
She drained her glass, but as she placed it on the table her legs gave way beneath her. She collapsed onto the floor like a bag of cement and passed out.
CHAPTER ELEVEN (#ulink_9422ef51-4b40-58e1-b9d3-36bb3e111a5e)
‘The name of the man who murdered my daughter is Nathan Wolf,’ Rebecca told Anna. ‘You must have heard of him.’
‘But you can’t be sure he did it, Becs,’ her husband chipped in before Anna could respond. ‘You shouldn’t accuse the man without proof.’
Rebecca shook her head. ‘I was a police officer long enough to be certain that I’m right. Wolf knew that Holly was about to destroy him. He was desperate to stop her. And the only way he could do it was to kill her or arrange for someone to do it on his behalf.’
A deep frown scored Anna’s forehead as she listened to Rebecca’s extraordinary claim.
‘These are strong allegations, Mrs Blake, and I need to know why you’re making them,’ Anna said. ‘But I also want to be sure who you’re talking about. I know of only one individual named Nathan Wolf and he happens to be a Member of Parliament.’
‘He also happens to be the bastard who you need to go and arrest,’ Rebecca said.
Anna stared at her in disbelief and behind her Walker whistled through his teeth.
‘I’m deadly serious,’ Rebecca insisted, her voice punctuated by sobs. ‘And when we tell you what we know I’m sure you’ll come to the same conclusion.’
Anna shivered with anticipation as she fished out her notebook and pen.
‘I’m listening, Mrs Blake,’ she said. ‘So please tell me everything.’
But at that point the woman succumbed to another blast of emotion and broke down in a paroxysm of tears.
Anna could do nothing other than wait for her to regain her composure. Her husband wrapped her in his arms again and this time rested his chin against the top of her head, his eyes closed.
Their distress brought a lump to Anna’s throat, and she struggled to keep her expression neutral. At the same time the fact that the finger of blame was being pointed at yet another politician was sending a tremor of anxiety through her.
An MP no less, and a prominent one at that. Nathan Wolf was considered a rising star in the Tory Party, and was even being tipped as a future government minister. Was it really conceivable that he had murdered Holly Blake?
Anna didn’t want to believe it because if it was true then this case was going to be elevated from sensitive to sensational. And that would bring with it a whole bunch of problems.
It took several minutes for Rebecca to pull herself together, during which Walker fetched her a glass of water from the kitchen. Her husband got her to sip at it while he held it to her mouth and gently massaged her back.
‘Is there someone you would like us to contact?’ Anna asked. ‘Perhaps a relative or friend.’
‘My wife’s sister Freya needs to know,’ Theo said. ‘They’re close and she’ll want to be here.’
‘Then let me have her number and I’ll phone her for you.’
Rebecca pushed the glass away from her face. ‘That can wait until after I’ve told you about Nathan Wolf,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry I lost it just then. I’m all right now so bear with me.’
‘Of course, Mrs Blake,’ Anna said. ‘I quite understand. Take your time.’
Rebecca breathed in deep through her nostrils as she took a moment to gather her thoughts. Her face was flushed and her eyes shone with unshed tears. When she finally spoke her voice was much sharper, stronger.
‘The last time we saw Holly was on Tuesday evening,’ she said. ‘She arrived here unexpectedly because she wanted to tell us something. She was anxious and tearful, and the news she imparted came as a massive shock to us.’
Rebecca paused as her breath faltered. She blinked away the tears and swallowed hard before continuing.
‘She told us that she was selling her story to a Sunday newspaper and she felt it only fair to forewarn us because of the explosive nature of what would be in it.’
Anna and Walker shared a glance, and Anna was pretty sure they were thinking the same thing – that this case was becoming more interesting by the minute.
‘All I know about your daughter is that she was single and had a career in modelling,’ Anna said. ‘I’m not aware of anything in her life that would be likely to cause a stir.’
‘And neither were we until she ’fessed up,’ Rebecca replied. ‘That’s why I was so taken aback. And so furious with her because by revealing her shameful secret to the world she was going to make life unbearable for all of us.’
‘So what exactly was Holly planning to disclose in the newspaper?’ Anna asked.
‘She was going to make it known that she had been Nathan Wolf’s secret mistress for over a year. That he paid the rent on her flat in Camden after he persuaded her to move into it. And that he gave her spending money so that he could have her on tap for regular sex sessions.’
Rebecca paused, wiped her eyes and wet her lips. Anna wasn’t sure that she had it in her to continue, but after a couple of seconds she did.
‘It started while he was married to his wife, who died of a stroke ten months ago,’ she said. ‘And we had no bloody idea. We thought she was earning good money from modelling, which was how she could afford the flat and the lavish lifestyle. But we were wrong. That pervert was supplementing her income so he could have his way with her.’
‘But it must have been a consensual arrangement,’ Walker pointed out.
Rebecca shot him a look. ‘That’s not the point. Wolf was married and Holly is – was – over twenty years younger than him. She also had issues that made her vulnerable. That man seduced her and she succumbed to his charms. As if that wasn’t bad enough she even went and fell in love with him.’
Rebecca heaved a breath and closed her eyes. Anna could tell that she was on the brink of losing it again. Theo sensed it too and picked up the thread.
‘Wolf apparently strung her along after his wife died,’ he said. ‘He assured her that after a suitable period of mourning they would be able to move their relationship onto a different footing and make it known that they were a couple. But then last week he dumped her and revealed that he had fallen for another woman he wanted to be with. He told Holly she would have to move out of the flat and he offered to pay her a sum of money to go quietly.’
‘But I take it she decided not to accept it,’ Anna said.
Theo nodded. ‘She was heartbroken and felt that he’d betrayed her. She told him she was going to ruin him and that’s what she set out to do. She approached the Sunday Mirror and they jumped at the chance to run her story after she whetted their appetite with some sordid details which she refused to reveal to us.
‘The paper agreed a fee and arrangements were being made to set up a proper interview. It was due to take place this week. That’s why she came here. She wanted us to know before the shit hit the fan.’
‘And did you try to talk her out of it?’ Anna asked.
It was Rebecca who answered. ‘Damn right we did. But she wouldn’t listen. As always it was hard to get through to her when she’d decided to do something, even if she knew that her actions would probably end in tears.’
‘Are you alluding to the issues that you just mentioned?’ Anna asked.
Rebecca sniffed back tears. ‘My daughter never found it easy to cope with life, detective. As a teenager she suffered from depression and went through a phase where she self-harmed. She was also terribly insecure and was never happy with the way she looked. It didn’t help that she was addicted to social media and took every criticism personally.’
‘So how did you try to persuade her not to go public with her story?’
‘I told her it would serve no useful purpose and that she should be grateful that Nathan Wolf would no longer be a part of her life. But she was adamant that she wanted to get her own back on him. She wanted revenge.’
‘And then what?’
‘It turned into a big row and I got so worked up that I said she had been a fool to let him treat her like a whore. That was when she screamed at me and stormed out of the house. It was the last I saw of her.’
‘And what time was that?’ Anna asked.
‘About nine.’
‘Was she driving a car?’
‘She doesn’t – didn’t – own one. She had a Fiat but sold it a few months ago because it never got used. I assumed she either walked until she got a cab or headed for the tube station, which isn’t far from here.’
‘Do you know where she went?’
‘I thought she’d go straight home, but she didn’t.’
‘How can you be sure?’
‘Because after I tried to ring her and realised she’d turned her phone off, Theo offered to go to her flat in the hope he could persuade her to come back so that we could talk some more.’
Anna looked at Theo, who responded with a shake of his head. ‘I went by taxi because our car was at the garage having some repairs done. I got there about an hour after she left here. I rang the bell several times but there was no answer. And there were no lights on inside. I waited around for about fifteen minutes but she didn’t turn up.’
‘Couldn’t you have let yourself in?’
Another shake of the head. ‘Holly wouldn’t let us have a key. We asked a few times but she refused, and now we know why.’
‘So what did you do then, Mr Blake?’ Anna said.
‘I came straight home.’
Rebecca snapped her head towards him.
‘But not straight away,’ she said. ‘You rang to say you were going to the pub. You didn’t get in until after midnight. I was already in bed having taken a sleeping tablet. You woke me.’
He nodded. ‘Oh, that’s right. Sorry. I went for a drink. My head was all over the place by then.’
Anna was at once suspicious. She felt there was something unconvincing about what he’d said. Something not quite right. But she didn’t think that now was the time to put him on the spot so she made a mental note to follow it up when she had him on his own.
Instead she turned back to Rebecca. ‘Do you know Nathan Wolf personally, Mrs Blake?’
‘I do, but not very well,’ Rebecca said. ‘We’ve met a few times and I’m afraid it was me who introduced him to Holly when she accompanied me to a fundraising event that he attended. That’s something I’ll never forgive myself for.’
‘And did she tell you how and when exactly she started a relationship with him?’
‘All she told us was that it began over a year ago. At the time she was sharing a flat in Eltham with her then boyfriend, Ross. But she was intending to break up with him and that was probably why she let Nathan Wolf into her life. They saw each other for a little while before he took her to see the flat.’
‘We’ll need to contact this Ross,’ Anna said. ‘Do you know his surname and his contact details?’
‘His second name is Moore. I don’t know his number but the flat he shared with Holly was 12 Primrose Court, Manor Road, Eltham. I’ve no idea if he still lives there.’
‘Do you know if she and Ross stayed in touch after she broke up with him and moved out?’
‘I know that he pestered her to get back with him and as a result she changed her phone number,’ Rebecca said. ‘He kept ringing her and he even turned up at her flat a couple of times.’
‘Did she put in a formal complaint?’
‘Not to my knowledge. She regarded him as irritating but harmless.’
While Anna scribbled some notes on her pad, Walker picked up the questioning.
‘You told us you were angry with Holly because by selling her story she was going to make life intolerable for everyone else,’ he said. ‘What did you mean by that?’
‘Isn’t it obvious?’ she responded sharply. ‘She would have made herself look foolish and spiteful, and she would have involved us in a sordid scandal. It would have impacted on Theo’s career and ruined my chances of becoming this city’s Mayor. I told her all this and she accused me of being selfish.’
‘Did you try to contact her again after that night?’ Walker asked.
‘Of course. I kept trying to phone, but it was switched off. I sent her emails and messaged her on Facebook asking her to call me. I rang her friends and her modelling agency but nobody knew where she was. That was when I got my secretary to call round the hospitals to see if she had been involved in an accident. Then yesterday morning I phoned Nathan Wolf but he claimed that he hadn’t heard from her since Sunday. I let him know that Holly had told us everything and said he should be ashamed of himself.’
‘And what was his response?’
‘I didn’t give him a chance to respond. The sound of his voice made me see red and I slammed the phone down. I made one final call to the editor of the Sunday Mirror and after he told me that he too had been trying to contact Holly because she hadn’t turned up for the interview I went into a panic and called the police.’
‘So why didn’t you get in touch with us sooner?’ Walker asked.
‘Up until then I’d convinced myself that she was avoiding everyone because she was in a strop. She’s always been headstrong and volatile, and it wasn’t the first time she’d cut off contact with us following an argument.’
‘What about her biological father?’ Anna asked, looking up from her notes. ‘He’ll need to be informed.’
‘He died three years ago in Australia,’ Rebecca said. ‘That’s where he moved to after our divorce. Holly went there to attend the funeral.’
Anna had more questions, but she didn’t get to ask them because suddenly it all got too much for Rebecca. Her face folded in on itself and she started to cry out as though in pain.
‘I can’t believe this is happening,’ she wailed. ‘I should have been there for her. My baby should be here with me. Not …’
Rebecca leaped to her feet, covered her mouth with her hand, and rushed into the kitchen. A moment later Anna heard her retching into the sink.
‘I have to insist that you call a halt to this now,’ Theo said. ‘My wife is struggling. She needs time to take it in. We both do. Holly was everything to us.’
‘I appreciate that, Mr Blake,’ Anna said. ‘You’ve both had a tremendous shock and despite that you’ve been really helpful and we’re grateful.’
‘So what happens next?’ he asked, getting to his feet.
Anna stood up too. ‘You’ve given us information that we’ll follow up. But we will need to come back and ask you some more questions, especially about what Holly told you. In the meantime I’ll arrange for a Family Liaison Officer to get in touch. He or she will keep you informed of progress and answer your questions in relation to the investigation.’
Anna fished a business card from her pocket and passed it to him.
‘My mobile number is on the back,’ she said. ‘Don’t hesitate to call me at any time. And I must advise you both not to contact Mr Wolf however tempting that becomes. I’ll be interviewing him shortly.’
Rebecca re-entered the room at that point and sat back down on the sofa while attempting to stem her tears with a crumpled tissue. Anna’s heart went out to her and she repeated her condolences.
‘Your husband has my number,’ she added. ‘And I’ll be in touch as soon as I have more news.’
Rebecca looked at Anna through red, swollen eyes and gave a slow nod.
‘I know how it works, detective,’ she said. ‘Just sort it so that I can see my daughter as soon as possible. And don’t underestimate Nathan Wolf. He’s a ruthlessly ambitious bastard and he’ll do whatever it takes to save himself. That includes enlisting the help of friends in high places.’
‘I promise you that if he is the person responsible then he will be made to pay,’ Anna said as Theo ushered them out of the room.
At the front door he told them he would call Rebecca’s sister Freya and get her to come over.
Before stepping outside, Anna asked Theo for Holly’s mobile number. Then she said, ‘Just for the record, Mr Blake, where did you go for a drink after you went to Holly’s place and discovered she wasn’t there?’
Shock registered in his eyes. ‘Surely you’re not suggesting that I had anything to do with what’s happened?’
‘Absolutely not. But it’s essential that we eliminate those close to Holly from our enquiries at the outset. I’m sure you can understand that. I know that your wife will appreciate that it’s something we have to do.’
He blew air out of his mouth through pursed lips. ‘Very well. I went to the King’s Head in Chappell Road, between here and Holly’s flat. I stayed there about an hour, then came home. That’s why I didn’t get back until after midnight.’
‘Thank you, Mr Blake,’ Anna said. ‘We’ll be on our way now and let me say once again how sorry I am for your loss.’
When they were back in the car, Anna took out her phone and told Walker that she needed to alert DCS Nash to the latest developments. But the phone rang just as she was about to tap in his number.
Caller ID showed it was DS Prescott who had been tasked, along with DC Niven, to check out Holly’s Camden flat.
‘I’m listening, Doug,’ she said. ‘What have you got for me?’
‘One of Miss Blake’s neighbours is also her landlord,’ he said. ‘He let us into her flat and I really think you need to come and see what we’ve found, ma’am.’
CHAPTER TWELVE (#ulink_7ae32566-91e0-53a8-ada3-f0b2f0fe4462)
Anna read out Holly’s address from her notes and told Walker to drive straight there.
‘This is likely to be an all-nighter,’ she said. ‘Do you need to let your wife know?’
‘I sent her a text before we left the office,’ he answered. ‘It was obvious to me then that I wouldn’t get to see my bed tonight.’
She passed on what DS Prescott had told her, then called DCS Nash, who answered on the first ring.
‘How did it go with Rebecca Blake?’ he asked her.
Anna told him how Holly’s mother had reacted, and how she had gone on to put Nathan Wolf, MP in the frame.
Nash’s reaction was predictable. ‘Jesus Christ, Anna. This is going from bad to worse.’
‘My thoughts exactly, sir,’ she said.
‘And do you think it could actually be true?’
‘It’s too early to say. We need to check with the newspaper that was about to dish the dirt on him. And then we’ll go and confront the man with the allegations. Have you got any thoughts on how it should be handled?’
‘Just don’t approach him until I get back to you,’ he said. ‘I’ll have to talk to the Commissioner, make sure he’s in the picture before the news breaks.’
‘Well, our next step is Holly Blake’s flat in Camden,’ Anna said. ‘The team have already come up with something interesting there apparently. But I don’t want to wait too long before we confront Wolf. If he is our man then he’s already had too much time to cover his tracks. And just because he’s a politician he shouldn’t be treated differently to any other suspect.’
‘I’m with you on that, but whether you like it or not Nathan Wolf is not just any other suspect. Once his name is out there it will trigger a media storm the like of which we haven’t seen in years. And the wave of panic will roll all the way up to the Prime Minister’s office.’
Having made his point, Nash hung up, leaving Anna to wonder just how tricky and frustrating things were going to get in the days ahead.
Walker could tell that she was uptight and it amused him.
‘This really is the stuff of nightmares, guv,’ he said, a slight grin playing on his lips. ‘Victim’s a beautiful model. Her mum’s a top Tory councillor and potential Mayor of London. And the prime suspect is a bloody MP. It doesn’t get more complicated than that.’
She looked at him. Shook her head.
‘And it plays right into your warped sense of humour doesn’t it, Max?’
He shrugged. ‘You’ve either got to laugh or cry, guv. I mean, we’ll either come out of it smelling of roses or else all our careers will be cut short if we fuck up.’
‘That’s why I like having you as my right-hand man, Max,’ she said. ‘Knowing you’re there at my side instils me with confidence.’
‘Seriously, though,’ he said. ‘This is a real fuckfest. But if I’m honest there’s no place I would rather be right now than working this case. I can’t wait to see what else it throws up.’
‘You won’t be surprised that I don’t share your enthusiasm, Max. I’m the one in the firing line. And even before we get started the Commissioner has seen fit to call my competence into question.’
‘Nothing new there then,’ Max said.
Not for the first time Anna wanted to slap him. Instead, she said, ‘So what does your gut tell you, Max?’
He thought about it and replied, ‘It’s clear that if Holly was doing a kiss-and-tell job on Nathan Wolf then he had a motive for wanting her silenced. But it strikes me that we also need to pay attention to the ex-boyfriend as well as the stepdad. Theo Blake would have made us believe that he went straight home after going to Holly’s flat. We only know he didn’t thanks to his wife. What we don’t know is if he told her the truth about going for a drink.’
That was one of the action points she phoned through to the office. She wanted someone to call the King’s Head to check if they had any security footage from that evening. She also asked for files to be produced on Holly Blake, her mother and stepdad, and Nathan Wolf.
‘And run the name Ross Moore through the system to see if it throws anything up,’ she said. ‘He’s Holly’s ex-boyfriend and we think he lives at Primrose Court in Manor Road, Eltham. We need to trace him. Have everything ready for a full team briefing at seven in the morning. If I decide to bring the time forward I’ll let you know.’
Anna then used her phone to go online in search of information on Nathan Wolf. Wikipedia listed the salient facts next to a head-and-shoulders photo.
Nathan Daniel Wolf, aged 45, is a British politician of the Conservative party, serving as Member of Parliament for the Central Somerset constituency.
Anna squinted at his picture. There was no denying that he was good-looking. He had chiselled features and a square jaw, with a full head of dark, wavy hair.
A number of facts were listed beneath the photo and Anna read them out for Walker’s benefit.
‘Wolf was born to a single mother,’ she said. ‘Educated at Eton. Ran a successful financial services company before becoming a politician six years ago. He and his first wife were divorced in 2005. He married Shelley Montague four years later but she died of a stroke. Currently single. No children. Resides in Kensington, London and Bridgewater, Somerset.’
‘No mention of him having a pretty young mistress on the go then,’ Walker said.
Anna shook her head. ‘But it’ll be all over social media as soon as it becomes public knowledge, which it surely will even though Holly is dead.’
‘And then Mr Wolf will join the ranks of those senior politicians whose secret sex lives were exposed by the very women they were shagging.’
‘That will be the least of his worries if we find out that he killed Holly to save his own neck,’ Anna said.
Camden, North London: one of the capital’s most popular areas, famed for its lively market and thriving nightlife.
Stanhope Street was centrally located close to Regent’s Park, lined with a wide range of apartment buildings. Holly Blake’s flat was on the ground floor of a five-storey block that looked about ten years old.
Anna could see why it would appeal to Nathan Wolf if he was indeed paying the rent. It was discreet, nondescript, somewhere he’d be able to nip in and out of without drawing too much attention to himself. What’s more it was only about five miles from his home in Kensington and three miles from the Houses of Parliament.
A patrol car was parked on the road in front of the block, behind an Audi A4 that Anna recognised as one of the team’s unmarked pool cars.
DS Prescott was waiting at the entrance smoking a cigarette. The smell of burning tobacco made Anna crave a nicotine fix, but she knew she had to resist for the time being.
Prescott dropped what remained of his fag onto the ground and let the smoke jet from his nostrils.
‘I didn’t expect you to get here so quickly, ma’am,’ he said.
‘We weren’t that far away,’ she responded. ‘Who’s inside?’
‘DS Niven and a PC. I’ve called up forensics, who should be here soon. And the landlord, a Mr Jason Lattimer, is up in his flat on the first floor waiting for you to talk to him. You’ll want to hear what he has to say.’
‘So show us what you’ve got then.’
Anna and Walker snapped on latex gloves and followed Prescott into the building. There was a small, spotless entrance hall with a lift, stairs and corridors to the left and right. A uniformed officer was standing outside the first front door on the left, Holly’s flat.
‘We got lucky because the landlord happened to arrive just as we did so he let us in,’ Prescott said. ‘He told us this is one of several flats he owns and rents out. Holly Blake moved in just over twelve months ago.’
DC Niven was waiting inside to give them a tour of the flat. It was decorated in whites, creams and pastel colours. There was a mix of wooden floors and carpets. The furniture looked fairly new and expensive, and Anna was struck by how tidy it was. There was nothing to suggest it had been the scene of a crime, although she knew that the forensics officers might well come across something that was invisible to the naked eye.
In the living room, Niven pointed to a sideboard below a wall-mounted TV. On top of it rested an iPad and a laptop.
‘The techies are working on getting into them now,’ he said.
The surfaces were adorned with framed photos of Holly. In some she was fully clothed and in others she was wearing bikinis or underwear. They had all clearly been taken by a professional photographer and had probably graced the pages of fashion magazines at some point.
The small kitchen gleamed with brushed aluminium and the contents of the fridge included no fewer than four bottles of champagne.
‘It’s a two-bedroom flat and this is the one Holly obviously slept in,’ Niven said as he pushed open a door and they followed him in.
The room contained a double bed with a purple duvet, a large dressing table and a fitted wardrobe across one wall that was filled with designer labels and shoes.
‘Check this out,’ Niven said, as he took out one of the many hangers. ‘A pair of men’s trousers. There are also a couple of shirts. And in the bottom drawer socks and pants and a soap bag with shaving gear in it. According to the landlord, Holly had a regular male visitor, a guy who he says is a lot older than her. But before you talk to him there’s something you have to see.’
He led them along the corridor to the second bedroom.
As he waved Anna inside, he said, ‘Needless to say this is not what we expected to find.’
And it certainly wasn’t what Anna had expected to see. Her stomach muscles contracted and the hairs on her neck stood up. It was left to Walker to put into words what she was thinking.
‘I don’t fucking believe it,’ he said. ‘I thought we’d already had enough surprises for one day.’
CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#ulink_b0a8b56f-9364-51fe-9ada-05a0a91ab657)
When Sophie woke up she was shocked to find that she was lying on the kitchen floor. It was several seconds before she realised that she must have passed out.
Then it came back to her. The bottle and a half of wine. The shocking revelations in the newspaper about Detective Anna Tate. The knowledge that she might soon lose the only good thing in her life – her daughter.
And the fear that someone had been watching her as she walked to and from the dental clinic.
Her head was pounding and there was a foul taste in her mouth. She hauled herself into a sitting position and planted her back against the wall. Thank God Alice hadn’t got out of bed and found her like this, she thought.
The digital display on the oven told her it was eleven o’clock, which meant she had been unconscious for less than an hour. But that had been time enough for the past to resurface in a familiar dream that took her back to where it all began ten years ago.
Those images, so frighteningly vivid, returned now as she closed her eyes in the hope that it would ease the pain that raged behind them. It was like she was actually there watching herself re-enact the encounter that was to change her life and eventually lead her to this flat in Shoreditch.
Ten years ago
He enters the restaurant with the child in a pushchair. He has fair hair and a handsome face, and is dressed in a tight blue T-shirt and jeans.
The little girl, who looks about two, is wearing a pretty red dress and matching sun hat. She’s fast asleep with her head back and her mouth open.
The sight of her is a painful reminder to Sophie that she isn’t able to have a child of her own because she’s infertile thanks to fucked-up ovaries.
The man decides to sit at a table close to the big window that looks out on the shaded patio. He’s the first customer of the day and as she approaches him with the breakfast menu she can’t help wondering where his wife or girlfriend is.
‘Buenos dias,’ she says. ‘Or should I say good morning?’
The man beams at her, white teeth gleaming.
‘You’ve guessed that I’m English,’ he says. ‘And I’m guessing that you are too despite the perfect Spanish accent.’
‘I am indeed,’ she tells him and places the menu on the table. ‘Are you here for breakfast or just a drink?’
‘I’d like a bacon sandwich and a large Americano coffee with milk and sugar,’ he says.
She gestures towards the child. ‘And what about that sweet little lady? Would she like something?’
He laughs. ‘That sweet little lady is really the devil in disguise. She kept me up most of the night, which is why she’s out to the world now.’
For some reason she feels emboldened to ask him if the child’s mother is with them.
‘Her mother died a while ago,’ he tells her, the smile vanishing. ‘She contracted a rare form of blood cancer. That’s why we’ve moved to Spain. I want us to start a new life here.’
‘I did that four years ago,’ she says. ‘I got fed up with the crowds and depressing weather in London.’
‘We’re from London too,’ he says. ‘We’ve been here just over three weeks. I’m renting an apartment close to the marina while I look around for a business to invest in.’
‘What kind of business?’
‘Not sure yet, but I’ve always wanted to run a bar ever since I spent some time here in Spain as a teenager. Of course, it needs to be something that will allow me to be a proper father at the same time.’
‘That sounds exciting.’ She holds out her hand. ‘By the way, my name is Sophie and I’m the head waitress here at The Clover.’
He takes her hand and the smile is back.
‘And I’m James. James Miller. This is my daughter. Her name’s Alice. She’s two and she means the world to me.’
Sophie opened her eyes and wondered briefly what would have happened if they hadn’t lied to each other that morning. Would they have hit it off like they did and stayed together for the next seven years? Or would James have eaten his bacon sandwich and walked out of her life?
He’d almost certainly be alive now if he had done so. And she would probably still be in Spain, having never experienced true love or the sheer joy of motherhood.
Sophie sat on the kitchen floor for almost five minutes as dark thoughts trampled through her mind.
At the same time the pain in her head was getting worse, insistent, and it seemed like the silent walls of the flat were closing in on her.
She had to force herself to resist the weakness that was taking her over. But it required an enormous effort.
As she clambered to her feet her head spun and the floor seemed to shift beneath her. She had to hold onto the worktop until she regained her equilibrium.
Then, squeezing the memory of ten years ago to one side, she staggered across the kitchen, grabbed a glass and filled it with water from the tap. She downed it in one go, filled the glass again, and carried it unsteadily towards the bedroom.
On the way she paused to look at her reflection in the hall mirror and it made her cringe. Her eyes were glassy, her face sweaty, her shoulder-length black hair a total mess.
She wanted desperately to talk to someone, to unburden herself. But who could she trust? Her parents were dead and she hadn’t spoken to her sister for well over a year. She had also lost touch with her uncles and aunts.
There was Lisa, of course. But Sophie wasn’t sure she wanted her to know what she’d found out. Since her friend lived and worked outside London it was likely she hadn’t read the Anna Tate story in the Standard. If she had then surely she would have called by now.
She couldn’t resist looking in on Alice on the way to her own room. Thankfully she was still asleep, one arm dangling over the edge of the bed. Sophie leaned over and gave her a gentle kiss on the forehead.
It was Alice who gave meaning to Sophie’s life. Alice who had helped her to bury the past and embrace the future.
She loved that wonderful, beautiful girl as if she were her own. And she knew that Alice loved her back. As far as Alice was concerned Sophie was her mother now. Her biological mum wasn’t even a distant memory. She existed only in a couple of photographs that James had kept.
It was Sophie who had helped to potty-train her. Sophie who had taken care of her while James worked in the bar he opened. Sophie who had looked after her since they’d been forced to flee from Spain to Southampton three years ago. And Sophie who had had to break the news to her that her father had died.
And that was why it was such a shock to discover now that all along Alice’s real name was Chloe. That her mother was still alive. And that James had lied to her about being a widower.
It felt to Sophie as though her heart had been ripped out of her chest. The urge to drink herself into oblivion was strong. But the urge to hold onto the life she had was much stronger.
And for that she needed to stay sober, focused and determined.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN (#ulink_65769f23-f1d4-5782-b3ff-a22416c4f932)
There were various ways to describe the second bedroom in Holly Blake’s flat. But Anna felt that Walker put his finger right on it when he said, ‘It’s like a poor relation of The Red Room in Fifty Shades of Grey.’
He was referring to the movie about a billionaire who’s into S and M and has an elaborate pleasure dungeon he calls The Red Room of Pain in his luxury apartment. Holly Blake’s DIY version was on a much smaller scale, but it clearly served the same purpose.
The room, which was only slightly smaller than the one Holly had slept in, was equipped with all kinds of kinky sex paraphernalia. Some of the items were hanging from hooks on the walls and others were neatly laid out on shelving units.
There were ankle and wrist restraints, canes, rolls of bondage tape, chains, handcuffs, lengths of rope and a variety of sex toys.
A single bed had pride of place in the centre of the room and there was a flat-screen TV fixed to the wall above it. Leather straps were attached to the bed frame at both ends, and on a small table next to it was a DVD player. Anna’s eyes were drawn to a contraption that she had never seen before. It stood about three feet off the floor and had four steel legs and padded rests to support a person’s body and limbs.
‘What the hell is that thing?’ she asked.
Walker shook his head. ‘It looks like some weird piece of exercise equipment.’
‘It’s known as a fuck bench,’ Niven said. ‘It allows those who like to play rough to position each other so that they can gain full access for penetration and stimulation.’
Anna and Walker stared at him and saw the blood rush to his face.
‘Well, it’s a new one on me,’ Anna said.
‘Don’t jump to the wrong conclusion,’ Niven responded quickly, holding up his hands, palms out. ‘I’m not a fetish freak and I’m not into BDSM. I just happen to have heard about it, that’s all.’
Walker raised his brow and tutted. ‘You shouldn’t be ashamed of what turns you on, mate,’ he said, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. ‘I read somewhere that one in five couples is into painful sex. And it’s no longer taboo to talk about it. So relax, Tom. We’re not judging.’
‘Oh, for fuck’s sake, I wish I hadn’t opened my gob,’ Niven said, and Walker responded with a chuckle.
‘Stop winding him up, Max,’ Anna said. ‘This is serious. I’m assuming that when Holly told her mum that she was going to reveal a bunch of sordid secrets this is what she meant. I can see the headlines now – “Top Tory MP and his spanking sessions”.’
‘Looks to me as though spanking would have been one of the least painful activities they got up to in here,’ Walker said.
Anna stepped further into the room to look around. There were no cupboards, drawers or wardrobes, and nothing filled the space under the bed. So everything was on display, and the more Anna looked the more she found.
There were bottles of massage oil, several pairs of rubber gloves, a roll of plastic cling-film, a bright red latex catsuit, no fewer than five vibrators, a blindfold and a scary-looking mouth ball gag.
‘It’s enough to make your eyes water and your skin prickle,’ Walker said.
One of the shelf units was filled with books, magazines and DVDs. The titles sent a shudder along Anna’s spine. Mistress of Torment, How to be Kinky, Erotic Fantasies, Diary of a Submissive, Bound to Cum, Domination and Submission, Hogtied.
‘I’m reminded of the time I went into an Ann Summers store in search of a birthday gift for the wife,’ Walker said.
‘And did you buy anything?’ Niven asked him.
Walker rolled his eyes. ‘You don’t really expect me to answer that question in front of the boss, do you?’
Anna decided they had seen enough of the playroom and that the contents were becoming a distraction. She was also concerned about contaminating forensic evidence.
Turning back towards the door, she said, ‘This room is off limits until the SOCOs get here. And it’s time to dispense with the inappropriate repartee, guys. OK?’
Back in the living room, Anna told Prescott and Niven about Nathan Wolf and said he was no doubt the regular visitor the landlord had mentioned.
‘So it means he has to be a suspect in Holly’s murder,’ she added.
‘It seems he’s not the only one,’ Prescott said.
Anna frowned. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Well, according to the landlord her ex-boyfriend, a bloke named Ross, came here last week and started a row with her. She accused him of stalking her and was very upset. The landlord also thinks he saw him hanging around outside on Tuesday night.’
CHAPTER FIFTEEN (#ulink_48fcbb47-6f98-5600-8030-5b8a4b11814b)
Jason Lattimer was a short, overweight individual in his late fifties. He described himself as the son of an immigrant couple from Barbados.
He had the same dark skin as Anna’s partner Tom, who had lived on another Caribbean island, Antigua, before moving to the UK with his family at the age of five.
Lattimer had been told only that Holly Blake was missing and her parents were becoming increasingly worried, hence the need to gain access to her flat.
Anna and Walker spoke to him in his sparsely furnished living room while detectives Prescott and Niven went knocking on the other flats in the block. The first few questions to the landlord were aimed at eliciting information about the man himself, partly to determine whether he should be treated as a suspect.
But it took Anna less than a minute to weigh him up and rule him out, although they would still subject him to the usual checks.
Lattimer told them that he owned a total of five properties in and around Camden and that he had inherited them from his parents. Holly’s flat had been let unfurnished and was on a rolling lease.
‘She viewed the flat with an older man who’s been a frequent visitor this past year,’ Lattimer said, his voice quiet, nervous. ‘All the furniture was delivered before she moved in and she’s been an ideal tenant. In fact I’ve come to regard her as a friend. She’s such a pleasant girl and the rent’s always paid on time.’
‘Have you been inside the flat?’ Anna asked.
‘A couple of times, but not recently. I only ever went into the lounge and kitchen and I was very impressed with the way it had been decorated.’
‘Is the rent paid by direct debit?’
He nodded. ‘Fifteen hundred pounds a month transferred directly from her bank account into mine.’
‘What do you know about the man who helped her set up home here?’
He shrugged. ‘Nothing at all except that he usually arrives and leaves by taxi and that he rarely stays overnight. He’s in his forties, I reckon, and I’ve always suspected that he’s some kind of sugar daddy.’
‘Why is that?’
‘Well, the age difference for one thing, and the fact that he doesn’t live with her. She described him once as her boyfriend and let slip that he had paid for all the furniture.’
‘Have you spoken to him much?’
He shook his head. ‘The longest conversation I had with him was when they viewed the flat, and that was over a year ago. He’s quite posh and polite, but he also comes across as very shy. He always wears dark glasses and sometimes a baseball cap pulled low over his forehead. It’s as though he doesn’t like people seeing his face, which is another reason I figured he was more a benefactor than a boyfriend.’
‘Do you know his name?’
‘Not his full name. Holly refers to him as Nate, which I’m certain is short for Nathan.’
Anna fished her phone from her pocket and opened up a photo she’d saved of Nathan Wolf.
‘Is this Nate?’ she said.
Lattimer leaned forward and picked up a pair of glasses from the coffee table between them. He slipped them on, looked at the picture and nodded without hesitation.
‘That’s him.’ He then tilted his head to one side, furrows texturing his forehead. ‘Do you think something bad has happened to Holly, detective? Is that why you’re asking all these questions?’
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- Жанр: Книги о приключениях, Современная зарубежная литература
- Язык: Книги на английском языке
- Объём: 340 стр. 3 иллюстрации
- ISBN: 9780008313319
- Дата выхода книги: 30 ноября 2019
- Версия: 📚 Электронная книга
What happens when the past comes back to kill you? When DCI Anna Tate is called to the gruesome discovery of a dead woman found on Barnes Common, she is plunged into a high‐profile investigation involving a prominent MP. London is baying for blood – but is there more to Holly’s death than at first meets the eye? Meanwhile, the hunt is on for Anna’s missing daughter Chloe, who vanished ten years ago when her father kidnapped her. The case has been cold for what feels like forever – but a phone call brings a brand new lead… Can Anna solve the murder case whilst dealing with her own personal demons? Or is someone from the past planning to get in her way? An addictive new thriller from J. P. Carter, perfect for fans of Heidi Perks and D. S. Butler. Readers love the DCI Anna Tate series: ‘Anna Tate is a worthy protagonist; but it's the complex and gripping plot and equally engrossing subplot that is the true star of the show. ’ Lynne Patrick, Mystery People ‘A fantastic book [that] had me reading frantically’ Amazon reviewer ‘Nothing in this book happened as I expected and I loved it’ Amazon reviewer ‘A fast, pacy book, full of suspense’ Amazon reviewer ‘A highly addictive crime series’ Amazon reviewer ‘Kept me guessing to the end’ Amazon reviewer
Как скачать книгу - "At Your Door" в fb2, ePub, txt и других форматах?
- Нажмите на кнопку "полная версия" справа от обложки книги на версии сайта для ПК или под обложкой на мобюильной версии сайта
Полная версия книги
- Купите книгу на литресе по кнопке со скриншота
Если книга "At Your Door" доступна в бесплатно то будет вот такая кнопка
- Выполните вход в личный кабинет на сайте ЛитРес с вашим логином и паролем.
- В правом верхнем углу сайта нажмите «Мои книги» и перейдите в подраздел «Мои».
- Нажмите на обложку книги -"At Your Door", чтобы скачать книгу для телефона или на ПК.
В разделе «Скачать в виде файла» нажмите на нужный вам формат файла:
Для чтения на телефоне подойдут следующие форматы (при клике на формат вы можете сразу скачать бесплатно фрагмент книги "At Your Door" для ознакомления):
- FB2 - Для телефонов, планшетов на Android, электронных книг (кроме Kindle) и других программ
- EPUB - подходит для устройств на ios (iPhone, iPad, Mac) и большинства приложений для чтения
Для чтения на компьютере подходят форматы:
- TXT - можно открыть на любом компьютере в текстовом редакторе
- RTF - также можно открыть на любом ПК
- A4 PDF - открывается в программе Adobe Reader
Другие форматы:
- Сохраните файл на свой компьютер или телефоне.
