Before It's Too Late (10 page)

“Well it was spotted in the centre of Stratford-upon-Avon on Monday night.”

“Impossible.” She shook her head as if to dismiss the thought.

“It was picked up on the cameras. There’s no mistake. Is there anybody else with access to the vehicle?”

Mrs Galloway smoothed her skirt uncomfortably. “No, I don’t believe so.”

“Are you sure? Is there anyone else living here with you?”

“Only my son, Andrew. My daughter is away at university. And Andrew is only seventeen. Still having driving lessons.”

Seventeen. Only a year younger than Tom Steele, Jackman thought. They could have been at school together. He fixed a stare on Mrs Galloway. Her son had no licence. No wonder she was feeling uncomfortable.

Jackman softened his tone, “A girl went missing in the town on Monday night. The car was spotted near to where she was last seen. Whoever drove it may have witnessed something.”

“I’m sure Andrew wasn’t involved.” She swallowed.

“I do need to speak to him.”

The roar of an engine filled the room, followed by the sound of a door slamming shut, a chuckle and a chorus of dogs barking.

Mrs Galloway stood, her face twitching with anger. “Well, it looks like you have your wish. He’s here right now.”

A scrawny boy who looked younger than his seventeen years, with blue eyes, shaggy blond hair and oversized clothes appeared in the doorway.

Mrs Galloway stood. “Andrew. This is Detective Inspector Jackman.”

Jackman wasn’t sure if it was the tightness in his mother’s voice or the mention of the police that turned the boy’s face ashen. He froze, like a toddler caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

“The inspector’s got some questions for you.”

Andrew slunk into the room. He cast a furtive glance at Jackman who gestured for him to sit down on the sofa opposite and asked him to run through the events of Monday night. Initially, he denied involvement, until the camera footage was mentioned, then he cast his gaze to the floor.

“Look, I’m here to investigate the case of a missing girl, a Chinese student,” Jackman said. “She was last seen leaving the Old Thatch Tavern at 10.35pm on Monday. The cameras show your father’s car passing through around that time. If you saw or heard anything, it may well help our enquiry.”

A faint glimmer of hope flickered across Andrew’s face. This wasn’t the admonishment he was expecting.

“Did you see anyone?”

He nodded. “We’d been cruising around for an hour or so.”

“We?” The interruption came from Mrs Galloway, her voice indignant.

“Jem and I.”

“Might have known.” She didn’t attempt to hide the disapproval in her voice.

Jackman ignored her, “Go on.”

“A girl was walking down Rother Street towards the police station as we drove up in the direction of the market place.”

“Can you describe her?”

“Short, Chinese. She had a long, pale, silk skirt on. We pulled over to talk to her.”

“I don’t believe this!” a splintered voice squeaked from behind Jackman.

He whisked around. “Mrs Galloway, please?” She averted her gaze, but her face was like thunder.

Jackman turned back to the boy. “What did you say?”

He lifted the corner of his lip. “Not much. Just asked her if she wanted a ride. It was only meant to be a bit of fun.”

“This is important now, Andrew. Think carefully. You are currently the last person known to have seen her. What did she do then?”

“She looked across at us, but didn’t answer. She looked like she’d been crying. So, we just hooted and pulled off. It was only for a laugh.”

“Did you see anybody else nearby, any people or vehicles?”

Andrew looked at the floor and chewed the side of his lip. “I think there was a van parked on the market place, near the clock tower.”

“Can you describe it?”

“Not really. White. Maybe a Volkswagen.”

“Was there anybody sitting in it, or nearby perhaps?”

Andrew shook his head. “Didn’t see anyone.”

Jackman sat back in his chair and folded his hands into his lap. It was time to change tack. “Andrew, do you know Tom Steele?”

Tight creases formed along the boy’s forehead. For a moment he was lost in thought. “Yes, he was in the year above me at school. Why?”

Jackman ignored the question. “When was the last time you saw him?”

Jackman took a deep breath to calm his frayed patience. An hour spent with Andrew had yielded little result. He claimed that he hardly knew Tom and hadn’t seen him since he left school. Nothing in his body language indicated that he was lying, although the close proximity to Tom’s home still bothered Jackman.

He considered the scenario. Andrew had claimed he and his friend had been cruising around for the best part of the evening when they happened upon Min. She was walking in the direction of the police station when Andrew saw her, yet when the cameras caught her she’d turned the corner into Greenhill Street. Had she stomped out of the pub in a temper and taken any direction just to calm down, or was she heading somewhere in particular? And what made her turn back? Did Andrew Galloway, harassing her in his dad’s BMW, frighten her? Did he give her a message from Tom, or was there another reason?

He turned Andrew’s account over in his mind. ‘She looked like she’d been crying.’ He wondered if that was due to the argument with Tom, or if something else was bothering her.

Back in the car, Jackman called the station. It was answered on the first ring.

“Sir?” Annie didn’t wait for him to respond. “We’ve traced the white van, or what we thought was the van.”

“What do you mean?” he said as he pulled out of the Galloway’s driveway.

“The owner lives in Coventry. He’s been working in Huddersfield. Contract only finished yesterday. He was driving back to Coventry last night, arrived in the early hours of this morning.”

“Are you sure?”

“Completely. We’ve checked it out. Doesn’t look like this is our guy.”

“The number plates match?”

“To the letter.”

Jackman indicated and pulled over. “Are we thinking cloned plates?”

“Certainly looks that way.”

Jackman felt a surge of adrenalin. But the lead was marred with a chequered reality. If the van was connected to Min then they could very well be looking for a body. “Okay, get everyone on it. Try all the garages in and around the region to see if anyone’s ordered new plates recently. Also check the police cameras to see when and where this number plate has been clocked over the last three months. Whoever was driving this van has taken careful steps to conceal their existence.”

“Will do,” Davies said. “How did you get on with the BMW owner?”

“Rich kid snuck out in his father’s car. Couldn’t tell me much. Claims he saw the victim, but only for a few seconds. Lives around the corner from Tom Steele though which might be significant. Hold on.” He retrieved his notebook from his pocket and relayed the details of the friend that had accompanied Andrew in the car. “Get someone out to interview him, will you? Let’s see if his account checks out.”

Davies didn’t answer immediately. The line crackled. Suddenly Jackman became aware of a kerfuffle in the background. Raised voices. Annie spoke quickly, “Hold on a minute, sir.” She disappeared from the end of the line.

He strained his ears, could hear Annie’s high-pitched voice chipping into a distant conversation, but he couldn’t make out what she was saying. “Annie? What’s going on?”

It seemed an age before she answered. Frustration itched away at him. When she returned to the call there was a definite edge to her voice. “Sir, you need to get back here urgently. Looks like there’s been a ransom demand.”

Chapter
Eighteen

I balled up the bread wrapper, chucked it into the corner. It caught the edge of an empty bottle, causing it to wobble slightly, sending a hollow rattle reverberating around the pit
.

Earlier, my dozing had been disturbed by a strange scratching sound. At first I thought I was dreaming, until I opened my eyes to a myriad of shiny eyes glistening in the half-darkness. The rat had come back. And he’d brought friends
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I’d jumped up, screamed, bared my teeth like a vampire until they scurried away. But they would be back. They knew there was food down here, they’d smelt it. I couldn’t afford to sleep now. I needed to stay alert
.

Two tired-looking apples poked out of the edge of the blanket, one with a few chunks missing. It was all I had left from the delivery. I placed my hands behind my neck, stretched my elbows back. The concoction of anxiety, boredom and loneliness down here was suffocating. I needed something to concentrate my mind, keep me awake. Happy memories
.

Tom. It was raining the day I first saw him. He stood out in the wet, water dripping off the edge of his chin, beaming as he held open the main entrance door of the college for me. I remember being struck by how his whole face lit up as he smiled. His eyes lingered for just long enough to make my stomach flutter. ‘Welcome to Stratford College,’ he’d said with a wink. He made a show of taking me around campus and I played along (even though I’d arrived a couple of weeks earlier and already familiarised myself with it) while he introduced me to his friends
.

Almost instantly, I became a part of his friendship group. I thought hard. It was strange, our first meeting was so vivid in my mind yet I couldn’t recall the moment our friendship turned into something more. It just seemed to deepen over the following days and weeks. Until one day he kissed me
.

The recollection made me smile. We were sitting on the sofa in my apartment listening to Ed Sheeran. I was teasing him, poking his ribs. We chuckled, rubbed shoulders. He smelled so good. I don’t even remember how it happened. Suddenly his lips were on mine. Wet and inviting. He felt so deliciously warm and welcoming that there was not an ounce of awkwardness. Not even afterwards. Everything with Tom was like that. He seemed to glide effortlessly through life
.

From that moment on, I felt like a warm arm had been placed around me. He didn’t seem to notice the longing looks from other girls far prettier than me, and I couldn’t fail to be flattered by his interest in finding out all those intricate details about me that you only discover through intimacy. While I forced myself to concentrate on my studies and pored over my laptop, he breezed through his homework and read music magazines beside me. I could still see him making silly faces in my dressing table mirror while I dried my hair
.

I took a deep breath, rested my head back on the stone as the memories warmed my insides. I didn’t come over here to start a relationship. It had been the last thing on my mind. But during the days and weeks that followed that first kiss, the bond that pulled us together consumed me. Tom was the first man to reach into my heart and he’d laid an anchor deep. Which made it all the more difficult when things started to go wrong
.

Tears pricked my eyes. I’d never forget how ghostly white his face turned when I told him I was pregnant. We still wanted to be close to each other, the pull was magnetic, but we were faced with something neither of us had expected
.

I reached a hand down to my stomach as a tear escaped and rolled down the side of my nose. We’d argued that night. That’s why I left the pub. Alone. Goosebumps stood erect on my arms. Alone in the dark. Stupid. I never did that, I was always surrounded by friends, we looked after each other. But that night I was in a temper. I strode out of the pub. Waited for no one
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I was angry. My feet pounded the pavement with each step
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Tom doesn’t understand how different things are back home. My parents expect a great deal of me. I need to excel at my studies, build a firm platform for my eventual career. Right now, it’s important to show them that I’m working hard, diligently, being the dutiful daughter. Otherwise they will remove the funding and whip me back home where I will not only be expected to continue my studies, but also mix with all the right people so that I gain a respected position in a progressive company
.

Memories of my father hosting endless dinner parties, keeping everybody happy, greasing the right palms to enable his business to stabilise and grow, dogged my childhood. Looking back a part of me understood his motivations. How could I blame him for wanting a better life for his family? But I loathed the falseness of such liaisons, the shallowness. Smiling at people I didn’t particularly like, being asked to sing for strangers when I was little, putting on my best table manners
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I tried to explain to Tom that I needed to deal with this, with them, in my own way. Right now they would see him as a barrier, rather than an addition. And that was without the baby
.

But I couldn’t expect Tom to understand. After all, he was raised in a country where the press freely express their opinions on the state and openly criticise their governors instead of huddling around a neighbour’s table and covertly talking in whispers
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