Justice for the Damned (42 page)
Jim made no reply. He just stared at the floor, his eyes swimming with tears, but strangely devoid of expression.
Reece searched for something to say that might offer some comfort. But what could he say? What could he do? Nothing.
Outside, a crowd of curious onlookers had gathered at a perimeter of police tape. Inside, SOCO officers moved methodically about their business. Jim seemed unaware of it all. The tears had dried up. All that remained was blankness. No one approached him. No one spoke to him. Several had tried without success. It was as if he’d withdrawn to some inaccessible place inside himself. Reece and Garrett watched him from the doorway.
‘Stay with him,’ Garrett said. ‘Don’t let him go anywhere alone.’
‘I won’t,’ said Reece.
They continued looking at Jim. After a moment, as if Garrett’s voice had reached him from a long way off, Jim said, ‘Where would I go?’ He turned towards them and, like an echo of himself, repeated hollowly, ‘Where would I go?’
~
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THE SPIDER’S WEB
F
EBRUARY
14
TH
1993.
Sheffield United supporters remember it as the day their team won a famous victory against Manchester United. The date is lodged in Anna Young’s brain for a different reason. That was the day her thirteen-year-old sister, Jessica, was abducted…
F
AST
FORWARD
TWENTY
YEARS
.
The case has long since gone cold. But Anna won’t let it die. She made a promise to look after her little sister. And it’s a promise she intends to keep no matter how long it takes…
A
DETECTIVE
WITH
ONE
THING
ON
HIS
MIND
.
Jim Monahan is equally determined to bring down a sadistic sex-ring. But everywhere he turns he finds himself entangled in a web of political power and silence. Then comes a bizarre twenty-year-old clue that might just blow the whole thing apart…
February 14
th
, 1993
The whistles and chants swelled to a crescendo as Anna and Jessica entered the living room. Rick Young was leaning forward on the sofa, hands clasped as if making a silent plea for help, eyes fixed tensely on the television. The stud-chewed turf of a football field filled the screen, punctuated by players wearing the familiar red-and-white stripes of Sheffield United’s home kit and the unfamiliar yellow-and-green halves of Manchester United’s away kit. The camera swung back and forth, chasing the ball with the same breathless urgency as the players. “Touched on by Giggs,” came the commentator’s over-excited voice.
“Just get hold of the bloody ball!” yelled Rick, half-rising to his feet as Manchester United drove forwards en-mass.
“Dad,” said Anna. “Can we–”
She broke off as Rick gesticulated angrily at the television. “Come on, ref. Where’s the whistle?”
As if in the response, the referee raised his whistle to blow for fulltime. “Sheffield United have won a famous victory,” exclaimed the commentator, his voice half-drowned out by the cheers that simultaneously tore from twenty-odd thousand throats. Laughing, Rick flung up his hands and danced a little victory jig, then sprang forward to embrace his daughters and rain kisses on their blonde heads.
“Urgh! You stink of beer,” said Anna, squirming out of his grasp. Her younger sister snuggled in closer, giggling with delight – Jessica had always been Daddy’s girl.
“Can we have some money for the cinema, please, Daddy?” Jessica asked in the wheedling voice she used when she wanted something.
“Of course you can, love.” Rick took two tenners out of his wallet and divided them between his daughters.
“Ten quid! Thanks, Dad.”
“Anything for my two favourite girls. Now give me a kiss.”
As the girls leaned in to kiss their dad on opposite cheeks, he scooped them off their feet and twirled them around, singing, “Two one, two one.”
“Hey, put me down,” protested Anna, but with laughter in her voice.
Rick released his daughters, his gaze returning to the television. Home supporters were on the pitch, triumphantly mobbing their team. Anna and Jessica exchanged a victorious smile of their own. They’d hung around the house all afternoon, listening to the muffled sounds of the match, waiting for the right moment to pounce. Anna had made her move a fraction early, fearing a last-gasp equaliser would put a damper on their dad’s generosity. Jessica’s timing had been perfect. She knew how to play Dad like a finely tuned instrument. And he was happy to let her do so.
“See you later, Dad,” the sisters chirped together.
“Take a key with you. I’ve got to pick your mother up from work in a couple of hours. We might not be in when you get back.” As the girls turned to leave, Rick added as an afterthought, “Anna, promise me you’ll look after your sister. Don’t let her wander off anywhere alone. There’s going to be some seriously pis–” he checked himself and continued, “seriously angry Red Devil’s supporters out there.”
“I can look after myself,” said Jessica, thrusting her bottom lip out petulantly. “I’m thirteen, not five.”
I promise
, Anna mouthed over her sister’s shoulder. There was only a couple of years between the girls, but it had always seemed like more. Jessica was small for her age and built like a doll. Straight blonde hair fell halfway down her back, framing big blue eyes, lightly freckled cheeks and lips that constantly seemed to be on the verge of pouting. She was what their mum called a girly girl. She liked nothing more than playing around with makeup and clothes. And she had a tendency to be kind of ditzy. Although Anna knew that was more of an act to get people to do things for her than a reality. Anna had the same colour hair as her sister. But hers was wavy and tomboyishly short. Silver-rimmed glasses, whose thick short-sighted lenses magnified her pale grey eyes, lent her a serious air beyond her years. Ever since she could remember, she’d been labelled as the level-headed one. She didn’t resent the role – it had always come natural for her to protect her little sister when they were out of their parents’ sight.
Pulling on coats and scarves, the girls headed out of the front door. The afternoon was as grey as the pebbledash of their small semi-detached house. Shoulders hunched against a bitter breeze, they descended a steeply sloping street. The sound of cheering carried on the air, like waves pounding a distant cliff. Half-a-mile or so beyond the foot of the hill, the red-and-white walls of Bramall Lane stadium loomed over a tangle of terraced streets. About the same distance again further on, a cluster of brutally angular concrete, steel and glass buildings rose like exclamation points marking out the city centre.
They crossed a bridge spanning a railway line and the River Sheaf, and turned right onto Queens Road, which was clogged with car-and-bus-loads of supporters heading back to Manchester. At the end of Bramall Lane, police were directing traffic and keeping a close eye on the stream of away team supporters flowing along the pavements.
“They look proper pissed off, don’t they?” said Jessica, giggling at the supporters’ unhappy faces.
“Shh,” cautioned Anna. “You’ll get us in trouble.”
Jessica laughed carelessly. She’d never got into any trouble that she hadn’t been able to wriggle out of with a smile or some tears. As they neared the city centre, the stream thinned to a trickle. The sisters argued about what film they were going to see. Anna knew it was pointless – Jessica always got her own way – but the argument was like a ritual they had to go through every time they went to the cinema. And anyway, as much as she hated to admit it to herself, Anna took a guilty pleasure in watching the Hollywood fluff Jessica loved.
Jessica wrinkled her nose at Anna’s suggested film. “That sounds sooo boring. Who wants to see a film about someone killing people?”
Anna smiled. Jessica had a point. “OK, you win, we’ll–”
She fell silent as a dirty white van slowed alongside them. A chubby-faced man with crew-cut dark brown hair was peering through its passenger window. Jessica followed her sister’s line of sight. “Who’s he?”
“How should I know?” Anna replied, frowning. She didn’t like the way the man was looking at her sister. There was a strange intensity in his eyes. “Don’t look at him.”
“I think he fancies you.”
He’s not looking at me
, thought Anna, as her sister went on, “How old do you reckon he is?”
“I dunno. Twenty-five or something like that.”
“Urgh, imagine snogging someone as old as him.”
To Jessica, anyone over nineteen was old. The idea wouldn’t have seemed so bad to Anna, if the man hadn’t been so ugly. Not that he was particularly bad looking or anything. Rather, there was a deeper kind of ugliness that shone through his close-set dark eyes. “Just ignore him and maybe he’ll go away.”
Catching the unease in Anna’s voice, Jessica said, “OK, big sis.”
The sisters quickened their pace, both staring straight ahead. The van continued to crawl alongside them. Anna walked as tall as she could, her expression calm although her thoughts were sliding towards fear.
What did this guy want
?
Did he or whoever the driver was think they knew them
?
Or were they deliberately trying to shit them up
? A car behind the van sounded its horn. To Anna’s relief, the van accelerated.
“Yeah go on, sod off weirdo!” shouted Jessica.
The van’s break lights flared and it screeched to a standstill, forcing the car behind to swerve sharply into the outer lane. The sisters stopped dead too. Ten, then twenty seconds passed. And still the van didn’t move. Nothing moved. To Anna, the world seemed to have been placed on pause. Thirty seconds. “Anna,” began Jessica. Her voice was no longer cocky, it was small and held a slight tremor. Anna slid her arm protectively through her sister’s.
The van suddenly accelerated again. This time it didn’t stop until it reached the junction at the end of Queens Road. As it turned from view, Jessica’s cheeks puffed with relief. “My heart’s beating really fast.”
“Mine too.” Anna lanced a look at her sister. “One of these days you’re really going to get us in trouble.”
Jessica’s eyes widened apologetically. “I didn’t think they’d hear me.”
Anna sighed. She could never stay angry with Jessica for long – how could anyone when they looked into those big eyes? A thought came to her. “Did you see the registration number?”
“No, did you?”
Anna shook her head. “Come on. We’ll miss the beginning of the film.”
During the remainder of the walk Anna kept an eye out for the van. It didn’t reappear. By the time they reached the cinema, Jessica was back to her usual giggling, teasing self. Despite – or maybe because of – Anna’s protests, she bought enough popcorn, chocolate and sweets to make herself feel sick. Anna struggled to follow the film. Her thoughts kept returning to the man in the van. It gave her a crawling feeling to think of how he’d looked at Jessica as if he was sizing up a piece of meat. When they left the cinema, it was dark outside. Anna hesitated at the entrance, faint lines forming between her eyes as she scanned the quiet Sunday evening city streets. “I’m going to phone Dad and see if he’ll pick us up.”
“Why?” asked Jessica. “Are you still worried about that stupid van?”
A defensive note came into Anna’s voice. “No. I just don’t feel like walking.”
Jessica cocked an eyebrow knowingly. Ignoring her, Anna slotted a coin into a payphone and dialled home. She let the phone ring five, six, seven times. “No one’s answering.”
“Dad said they might not be in, remember. They’ve probably gone for a drink or something. We could catch the bus.”
Anna briefly considered the suggestion, then nodded. They crossed a road lined by tall unlit office buildings, heading for a bus stop. Anna squinted at a timetable dimly illuminated by a streetlamp. “The next bus isn’t for half-an-hour.”
“We could walk it in less than that.”
Anna glanced back towards the pyramidal roof of the Odeon cinema, wondering whether they should wait for the bus within the safety of its confines.
“Come on, Anna, let’s just walk it,” persisted Jessica, tugging at her sister’s sleeve. “I need to get home. My tummy’s hurting.”
“Well you shouldn’t have been so greedy,” snapped Anna. Seeing the scolded puppy look in her sister’s eyes, she sighed. “OK. Come on then.”
They started walking, Jessica with her arms hugged across her stomach, Anna peering uneasily into the headlights of passing traffic. The streets were pretty much deserted, except for occasional groups of Sheffield United supporters, crawling from pup to pub, rowdily celebrating their team’s victory. Anna’s pace quickened as they passed along the lonely lower end of Queens Road. To their right, beyond a stone wall about the same height as them, a thin curtain of bushes and trees lined the near bank of the faintly murmuring River Sheaf. To their left, an identical wall ran alongside the opposite pavement, terminating after some eighty or a hundred metres at the local ice rink – an almost windowless rectangular concrete and brick building.
“Slow down, will you,” complained Jessica. “My tummy–”
“Hurts. Yeah I know, you already told me,” cut in Anna, her voice quick with nervousness. They were nearing the place where the van had slammed on its brakes. “And I told you that you shouldn’t have–”
Anna broke off as Jessica suddenly doubled over retching. Rolling her eyes, Anna rested her hand on Jessica’s back while she vomited. Jessica straightened, wiping a hand across her mouth. “Please don’t tell Mum and Dad about this, Anna.”
