Honeytrap: Part 2 (3 page)

‘There definitely wasn’t,’ Jess insisted. ‘Absolutely not.’

Mac took off his coat and threw it over the back of a chair. ‘So maybe Sylvie got mixed up, got the wrong end of the stick or something. She’s with a friend, she’s safe, so there’s nothing to worry about.’

But Jess wasn’t prepared to let it go. ‘Unless it’s someone who knows how the system works, who knows that alarm bells will start going off if she doesn’t get in touch. She could have been forced to make that call.’

DI Middleton arched her eyebrows. ‘And is there anything to suggest that?’

‘Only what she said,’ Jess replied. ‘Isn’t that enough?’

‘Except Lorna didn’t sense that she was under any kind of pressure.’ The inspector looked over at her. ‘Or did I get that wrong?’

Lorna shook her head. ‘I don’t think … I don’t know … I mean, she didn’t sound scared or anything, but then what if Jess is right and …’

For the next fifteen minutes the five of them went over the events of the evening, trying to hone the details and clarify the picture. What emerged, among other things, was that no one knew whether Sylvie had a current boyfriend or who any of her close friends were. Lorna had a contact number for her parents in France, but at this point no one wanted to worry them. In the end it all boiled down to the brief conversation Lorna had had with her. Mac and Harry seemed prepared to take it at face value, Lorna was on the fence and only Jess truly believed the girl was in danger. She continued to plead her case to Valerie.

‘Look, couldn’t you run a check on Joshua Keynes, see if he has any history of violence?’

DI Middleton threw her hands up in the air. ‘On what grounds exactly? I can’t run random checks, and we’ve got no reason to suspect him of any crime at the moment.’

As Harry glanced at his watch, DI Middleton frowned and said somewhat caustically, ‘Am I keeping you?’

‘Sorry, busy schedule,’ he said.

‘And mine isn’t? It’s a Saturday night in Kellston in case you hadn’t noticed.’

‘I thought we’d finished here.’

‘I’m sure whoever it is you’re meeting can hang on for five minutes.’

Jess felt the tension in the air; it was years since the two of them had split up but Harry and Valerie Middleton still had issues. Although they’d theoretically moved on, neither of them could completely cut the ties. And Valerie, she suspected, thought Harry had a hot date. The idea clearly irked the inspector, although she was trying hard not to show it.

‘And we all appreciate you coming over,’ Lorna interrupted quickly. ‘Don’t we, Harry?’

‘Of course we do. All I meant was—’

‘I know what you meant,’ DI Middleton said tightly.

There was a short awkward silence before Jess tried to get things back on track. ‘What about Sylvie’s ex? Does anyone know who he is, his name or anything?’

Lorna shook her head. ‘Maybe she mentioned him to one of the other girls. I can ring round, see if they remember.’

‘Just be careful what you say,’ Mac ordered. ‘We don’t want to start a panic.’

DI Middleton snapped shut her notebook and stood up. ‘Okay, I’ll keep it on file. Let me know if there are any developments.’

‘Thanks again,’ Lorna said. ‘We will.’

Jess watched the inspector leave with a sinking heart. The meeting had come to an end with no real resolution. The general consensus seemed to be that they should wait a few days and see if Sylvie got in touch again. Jess wasn’t happy about this – every hour, every minute could be vital if the girl was in danger – but her protests had fallen on deaf ears. This left her with only one choice: if no one else was going to look for Sylvie, she would have to do it herself.

‘Don’t even think about it,’ Harry said as she followed him down the stairs.

‘I’ve got no idea what you’re talking about.’

‘Yeah, right,’ he said, glancing over his shoulder. ‘So you’re just going home for a quiet night in front of the telly.’

‘I might.’

‘When hell freezes over.’ Harry opened the front door and stood aside to let her out. ‘And please don’t forget that Sarah Thorne doesn’t want Keynes to know that she paid for a honeytrap service to test her future husband’s fidelity. So if you were thinking of—’

‘I wasn’t. What do you take me for?’ She stepped out on to the street and turned to face him. ‘But I am worried about Sylvie. This whole Friday thing – why would she say that? It’s like … I don’t know, like she was trying to tell us something. There was no arrangement. There wasn’t. There really wasn’t.’

Harry raked his fingers through his hair. ‘So what’s the plan?’

‘There isn’t a plan.’

‘You’ve always got a plan.’

Jess stared off down the street. ‘When I think of one, I’ll let you know.’

‘You need a lift anywhere?’

‘No, thanks, I’ve got the car.’

Harry closed the door and joined her on the pavement. ‘Lorna’s had more contact with Sylvie than either of us. I think she’d have guessed if anything was wrong.’

Jess gave a shrug. ‘If you say so.’

‘I’ll give you a bell if the phone turns up.’

They crossed the road together and separated outside the Fox. Jess watched as Harry walked away, battling with the urge to call him back and make him listen to her. But what was the point? He’d already made up his mind and nothing she said was going to change it. She went over to her Mini – parked under a light in the pub’s car park – got in, took out her iPad and began to type.

The first thing she noted down were two addresses, Sylvie’s and Sarah Thorne’s, both of which she’d memorised from the files Lorna had left open on the desk. It was the latter, the Hampstead address that she was most interested in. Did Joshua Keynes live with his girlfriend? It seemed likely, seeing as they were engaged. She thought it might be worth driving over there and checking out the place. But not yet. First she wanted to make sure she had everything down on paper while it was still clear in her head.

Half an hour later, Jess had a pretty thorough summary of everything she knew about Sylvie Durand. She had recorded the events of the evening, concentrating on Joshua Keynes and the ex-boyfriend who still remained nameless. Either of them could have followed Sylvie out through the emergency exit at Wilder’s. She fast-forwarded through the tape of the interview, making sure that no mention had been made of anything to do with next Friday. There hadn’t. She racked her brains, wondering if something had been said when the tape wasn’t running, but nothing came back to her.

‘Sylvie,’ she murmured. ‘What were you trying to tell me?’

But perhaps the answer was simple enough – by throwing out a seemingly innocuous comment, she could alert Jess to the fact that something was wrong without raising the suspicions of whoever was holding her. With a knife to her throat or a gun to her head, Sylvie would have had to have been extra careful about what she said.

Jess pondered on this for a while. Was she being over-dramatic? What if she was wrong and the others were right? Doubt crept into her thoughts, but she pushed it away. No, all her instincts were saying that Sylvie was in trouble, and she wasn’t going to ignore them. By Monday she would have a better idea of whether the girl was actually missing or not; she could go to Farnborough College and see if Sylvie turned up for her course. But that was a couple of days away and in the meantime she wasn’t prepared to sit back and do nothing.

Jess leaned across, flipped down the glove compartment and got out her A–Z. She looked up Sarah Thorne’s address and worked out the best way of getting there. At this time of night the roads shouldn’t be too busy. She was not entirely sure quite what she hoped to achieve by staking out the girlfriend’s home but it had to be better than sitting around twiddling her thumbs. Hopefully, Joshua Keynes would show up at some point and she wanted to be there when he did.

Jess put the A–Z on to the passenger seat and slipped the key into the ignition. She was just about to leave when a sleek white Daimler rolled into the car park, did a three-point turn, returned to the exit and idled there, blocking the way out.

‘Take your time, why don’t you,’ she murmured.

Jess peered through the gloom, but the Daimler’s windows were tinted and she couldn’t see who was inside. She was just about to pull out and hurry them along by drawing up behind when the passenger door opened and a woman with short fair hair got out, leaned down and continued talking to the driver. It was clear from her demeanour that the exchange was not an amicable one; her shoulders were hunched, her face full of anger.

Jess sat back and watched the scene, her curiosity aroused. She thought the woman looked familiar, but it took a moment for the penny to drop. Could it be? She wouldn’t have even thought of it if Harry hadn’t mentioned her yesterday.
Ellen Shaw
. It was – she was sure it was. Her hair was different but … She shifted forward to try and get a closer look. Yes, there was no doubt about it.

Ellen slammed the car door shut and the Daimler roared off with a noisy screech of tyres. She stared after the car for a while before turning left and walking up Station Road. Jess only had a few seconds to decide what to do next. If she left it too long, she could lose her completely. Should she follow or not?

Although Jess knew that Harry was searching for Ellen Shaw, she wasn’t sure if she wanted to help him find her. That woman had caused him nothing but trouble. She could easily turn a blind eye, pretend she’d never seen her, but somehow that didn’t sit too easily with her conscience. Cursing softly, Jess grabbed her jacket and bag, got out of the car, locked it and set off in pursuit.

As she walked she pulled her phone from her pocket and called Harry. It rang about eight times before he finally picked up. She had the feeling he was trying to avoid her.

‘Jess,’ he said wearily. ‘What can I do for you?’

‘It’s more the other way round. I think I’ve just seen Ellen Shaw.’

There was a brief intake of breath from the other end of the line. ‘What? Where? Where are you?’

‘By the Fox.’

‘Is she in the pub?’

‘No, she’s just left the car park. Not in a car, on foot. She was dropped off by someone in a white Daimler.’

‘Was it Danny Street? It must have been.’

‘I don’t know. I couldn’t see the driver. I think she’s heading for the station.’

‘Can you follow her? Please, I wouldn’t ask, but I have to … I need to talk to her. Can you just keep an eye out until I get there?’

‘And how long is that going to take?’

‘Not long. Five, ten minutes.’

‘What if she gets on a train? What am I supposed to do then?’

‘Just stick by her. She won’t be going far.’

Jess thought about Hampstead and gave a sigh. ‘I’ve got plans, so shift your arse, okay? I’m not going on some magical mystery tour.’

‘I’ll be there. Thanks.’

Kellston wasn’t a big station. There were only two platforms and Ellen Shaw chose the one where the line went towards Dalston. With only four other people waiting, Jess pulled up the hood on her coat and kept as much distance between them as she could. It had been years since the two of them last met, but she didn’t want to take the chance of being recognised. She stared at the board – three minutes until the next train. Damn it! Harry was never going to get here in time.

Jess sneaked a few glances at the woman who was pacing impatiently along the length of the platform. She found herself dwelling on Len Curzon again. He had made the mistake of following Ellen Shaw once and look how that ended up. When she thought about his twisted corpse lying in a Camden gutter, a shudder ran through her.

As the train rolled in, Jess hesitated before she climbed aboard. Was she really doing Harry a favour – or was she doing the very opposite?

By the time Harry made it to Dalston, driving as fast as he dared, it was after ten o’clock. Jess had called earlier, sent a text with the address Ellen had ended up at and then caught a cab back to the Fox. He owed her one for making the journey, especially after everything else that had happened tonight. Although he remained convinced that Sylvie was safe, he knew she thought otherwise. What was Jess doing now? He preferred not to think about it. When she set her mind to something, she couldn’t be deterred. She wouldn’t stop until she’d come face to face with Sylvie again.

And he had someone to face too. His fingers tightened around the wheel as he drove up Stoke Newington Road. It was five years since he’d last spoken to Ellen, five years since he’d watched her walk out of his old office near the Strand and … Jesus, what happened next had been imprinted on his mind for ever. He could still visualise her stopping at the kerb, waiting and watching before she stepped out in front of the traffic, could still hear the dull cruel thump of metal against flesh. An accident? That’s what everyone said, but he didn’t believe it. There was something premeditated about the act, something shockingly deliberate.

Perhaps it was that memory that made him feel protective of her. Or maybe it had started well before that. He could still recall sitting in the flat in Camden, trying to find the right way to connect with her. She was a distant, complex kind of woman. Enigmatic, that was the word. The more he’d found out about her, the more mysterious she’d become. And yet eventually a bond had developed between the two of them. She’d grown to trust him, to like him, to … but whatever she had felt it had not been enough in the end.

Harry counted off the streets on the left until he came to Pelham Road. It took him a while to find a parking space and as he hurried back he tried to figure out what he was going to say. After her reaction at the hotel, he guessed that she wouldn’t be overly pleased to see him. She had not asked for his help and yet he felt compelled to offer it.

Pelham Road was a Victorian terrace of three-storey houses, most of them converted into flats. The ground floor of number nine still had a light showing behind the closed curtains of the bay window. He found the right bell, pressed it, stood back and waited. Would she even answer? Most women would be cautious at this time of night.

But surprisingly the door opened quickly. It was as if Ellen had been expecting someone – although that someone clearly wasn’t him. Her face fell as she realised who it was. ‘Oh, it’s you.’