Lost Girls (19 page)

T
he five-mile
bike ride from Pedmore to Netherton had been fraught with patches of ice. More than once the rear wheel had weaved almost beyond Kim's control and the hill leading up to the house had been like a ski run, but she killed the engine exactly nine minutes after receiving the call. Although she had left her details with Jenny Cotton, Kim had never expected a call.

The woman was already standing in the doorway, clad in a white towelling robe, phone clutched in her hand. The frozen expression on her face had nothing to do with the temperature.

Kim removed her helmet and guided the woman inside, closing the door behind her.

‘Thank you for coming … I didn't know what else …'

‘It's okay,' Kim said. ‘You did the right thing.'

Kim wasn't surprised Jenny still had possession of the phone. If she was honest, she wouldn't have handed it over either.

Jenny moved mechanically, numbed into a state of shock. She stumbled into one of the dining chairs.

Kim reached out and steadied her, forcing her to take a seat.

She herself needed a hot, sweet drink but the woman before her appeared to need it more.

Kim stepped into the kitchen and filled the kettle. After a few attempts she located mugs, coffee, sweetener and milk.

‘I was so close,' the woman whispered as the kettle switched off.

Kim turned.

Silent tears were falling onto Jenny's cheeks as she stared down at the phone in her hand.

‘To what?' Kim asked, but her gut gave her the answer before Jenny did.

‘To peace,' she said, raising her gaze.

Kim set the coffee mugs on the table and sat down. ‘It's not the answer,' she said softly.

‘It is when you no longer know the question.'

Kim thought it was Albert Einstein who had said, 'Life isn't worth living unless it is lived for someone else.'

A prime example of that sat before her. This poor, defeated woman had tried to exist without her child, but had been unable to move in any direction.

Kim reached across and gently touched her hand.

‘Have you read the text message?'

The woman nodded and clutched the phone to her breast.

Kim held out her hand. ‘May I?'

With reticence the hand came forward. Kim plucked the phone from the woman's grip and scrolled to the most recent message.

It hadn't come from a number already used. She had the numbers above each text on the board in the war room. The texts and the numbers were burned into her memory.

The message was short and simple.

Do you want to play again?

Kim closed her eyes. At worst they were looking at the cruellest of jokes, an attempt to extort money from a woman still lost in her grief. At best, this was a mother being taunted into bargaining for the body of her child.

A vision of Eloise being frog-marched from the Timmins' garden appeared in her mind. She had said that he wasn't done with the others. Was this what she had meant? Just as quickly, Kim pushed away the thought. Every crackpot had to stumble across lucky coincidences now and again.

Kim was a police officer and she dealt in fact.

She stood and pushed her chair under the table. ‘I have to ask you to let me take this phone.'

Jenny Cotton looked horrified. Her eyes darted to the phone and Kim could feel the urge in her to grab it back and cradle it.

She used her right hand to wring the fingers of her left. ‘Is there a chance, any chance at all that you can bring the body of my daughter home?'

Kim was loath to make promises that she didn't feel she could keep but one look at the face, so close to the edge, reached down and squeezed at her gut.

‘If they have her, I'll find her.'

K
im realised
there was no way out of her current predicament.

She was cold, the coffee pot was empty and she had a lot to think about. She needed water and there was an arsehole in the kitchen.

She didn't relish the idea of another battle but life without coffee was not an option, especially after midnight. There were many things she could function without: love, yes, sex, normally, food, often but coffee – never.

She grabbed the coffee pot forcefully and strode out of the incident room. Damn it, she was not scared of anyone.

She entered the kitchen with a set expression but paused. Matt's head was in his hands and his breathing was deep and even.

Her footsteps were light as she headed to the sink. She turned the faucet to the bare minimum and held the pot in place as water dribbled in.

‘Thanks for your consideration but I wasn't asleep.'

Kim groaned inwardly. She turned. ‘Really, your snoring would tend to disagree.'

‘I was practising the art of deep mind meditation, whereby your conscious mind remains alert while your subconscious has a rest. It's especially helpful when dealing with difficult people.'

‘Yes, living with yourself must be quite a trauma.'

‘Oh, good response, Inspector.'

Kim headed out of the kitchen.

‘The dickhead in charge of negotiation on the last case should be taken out back and shot,' Matt called after her.

Kim stepped back into the kitchen. ‘Why?'

‘Because he went at it like a market trader. No strategy, just positioning and posturing.'

Kim took two further steps in. ‘Go on.'

Matt sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

‘A few years ago there was a tiger in Bolivia.'

‘A tiger?'

‘Sorry. A tiger kidnapping is where a hostage is taken to persuade a loved one or family member to do something.'

Kim took a seat.

‘A five-year-old boy was taken to persuade his father, a judge, to release the kidnapper's brother from prison. His brother was a political activist and responsible for the murder of seventeen people on a city bus. This was exchange of life for life, not money. It was an impossible choice and obviously one the judge was powerless to execute.'

‘What happened?'

‘The boy's body was found two days later on a riverbank, which is what happens when a negotiator operates with a complete lack of respect for the process. If we were dealing with an express incident …'

‘Express?' Kim asked. It wasn't a term she'd heard before.

‘It's where a small ransom that a family can easily pay is demanded. At the outset it is understood that money will be paid and that the child will be freed and the only negotiation is the cost.'

‘Are these gangs ever caught?'

Matt shook his head. ‘Rarely. They are adept at what they do. And as long as you work the negotiation right, everyone wins.'

Kim heard something in his voice that caught her attention.

‘Does it ever go wrong?'

He stood and turned to the sink. ‘Now and again.'

It was the first flicker of emotion Kim had witnessed from Matt but something about this case was puzzling her.

‘We have no demand for an amount, so how can you start negotiations?'

He turned back with a glass of water.

‘On this occasion I'm not bargaining for the money. I couldn't give a shit who pays what amount of money. I'm bargaining for life. Despite what the text message says about one life. I want them both,' he stated.

‘Have you seen this before?' Kim asked. ‘An auction situation?'

He shook his head. ‘No, I've had a double before, two brothers, but it was a flat-out demand.'

Kim was not heartened by this news. ‘So, how do you propose …?'

‘The first thing I need to do is gauge their expectations. There has been no demand for an actual sum but there must be a figure they're hoping to achieve. I'm also going to be looking to see if they have a preferred family. They may be interested more in the Hanson family and the Timmins are along purely to help boost the price, or vice versa. Every response I get will tell me something and help to direct the course of action to take next.'

‘So, it's a fluid plan?'

‘It has to be until I get some reactions.'

‘Wow, you almost smiled then,' she observed. ‘Be careful, you'll have me thinking you have some level of emotional capability.'

His face returned to the set position. ‘As your opinion means nothing to me I won't be losing sleep but, to address your point, my emotions could get those girls killed.'

‘Surely you could still do your job if you smiled now and again?' she asked.

‘Perhaps, but if I'm in a good mood then I might concede something I shouldn't because the sun is shining or I had a good night out. Equally, if I'm in a negative mood – because you're around, for argument's sake – it may prompt unnecessary irrational behaviour. It is a fact that pissed-off negotiators use more competitive strategies and co-operate less.' He raised both eyebrows. ‘So, please stay out of my way.'

Kim stood. ‘Trust me, that won't be a problem.' She moved towards the door. ‘Oh, and just to add to your stress, Jenny Cotton – that's one of—'

‘I know who she is,' he said, shortly.

‘She's received a text message, asking if she wants to play again.'

He sat back in his chair and rubbed at his chin. ‘You're joking?'

Kim shook her head. ‘I have the phone.'

‘You don't seriously think that kid is still alive?'

Kim took a breath and shook her head. The sickness still rolling in her stomach stemmed from the knowledge that the contact might help them find the two that were. She was using the death and misery of one family to try to save two more.

‘You need to reply,' he said.

She opened her mouth to respond.

‘Just say yes and see what comes back.'

It was what she'd planned to do.

Kim headed out of the room with the coffee pot. At the door she paused.

‘So, just for my interest, what's going to be your opening gambit?'

‘It's what I was working on when you stepped into my bedroom.'

‘Well, any time is good for me. I'd hate you to be rushed by the fact we've got two kids missing.'

‘Inspector, I can assure you that I never rush. But just for my own interest, if you could get the crew leader on the phone what would be
your
opening bid?'

Kim thought for only a split second.

‘Bring them back now unharmed and I'll let you live.'

He stared at her for a full ten seconds and she returned the gaze without flinching.

‘Yep, now I can see why they sent for me.'

‘
C
harl
, I feel sick …' Amy said, clutching her stomach.

Charlie knew what she meant. The sandwich earlier had been warm and had smelled funny. Neither of them had eaten it all, both far too sickened by the thought of the limp kitten as he'd dangled it by the neck before closing the door.

Every time she closed her eyes she saw that beautiful black and white face staring back at her. So sleepy, so warm, so trusting.

Charlie had the sudden longing for stew. Her mum had cooked it in the past and every time Charlie said she didn't like it. It was a mess of vegetables and meat pieces in a gravy filled with little white beads that her mum said was pearly barley or something. It was another reason why she was always pleased that winter was over. No more stew.

But right now the thought of it brought tears to her eyes.

‘I th-think we've b-been here three d-days,' Charlie said, counting the scratches on the wall. ‘So, I think it's T-Tues …'

‘Charl, you're stuttering again,' Amy observed, putting her hand on Charlie's arm.

‘J-just … the … c-cold, Ames,' Charlie said.

Amy took the towel from around herself and wrapped it around Charlie then moved her hands quickly up and down her arms.

That simple act prodded the tears that lived permanently behind her eyes.

‘I'm s-scared, Ames,' she said, using the corner of the towel to wipe at her face.

‘Me too, Charl, but I won't let anything hurt you. I promise.'

Charlie couldn't help the tears that cascaded over her cheeks. The sobbing started in her stomach and worked its way up to her throat. She had tried to stay strong for her friend and now she had let her down.

Amy rubbed some warmth into her legs. ‘We'll be okay, Charl. As long as we're together. Our parents are out looking for us right now. They'll find us, I know they will.'

‘You h-have to get b-back in here,' Charlie choked out. Amy couldn't be without some covering for long. Their bathing costumes were no defence against the damp, cold room.

Amy scooted next to her and they huddled beneath the towel.

‘Do you th-think they will find us, Ames?'

Amy chuckled and the sound dried the last of her tears.

‘Don't you remember when we went to Great Yarmouth?'

Charlie thought for a minute.

Amy nudged her. ‘We saw that clown and we followed him because he was holding Olaf balloons and then we didn't know where we were. We walked around for ages looking for our parents and then we just sat and waited for them to find us. The fair was closing and it was starting to get dark but they found us.'

Charlie knew it wasn't the same thing. ‘B-But that time they knew where we were. Th-They knew where to find us.'

Amy shrugged. ‘But they wouldn't have gone home until they did,' she said simply.

Charlie wondered if Amy realised that they had switched roles and she was now the strong one.

She had opened her mouth to respond when she heard the familiar sound of footsteps.

‘Charl … no … not again …'

‘Evening, girlies,' he said.

Neither of them spoke, listening for the sound of the key in the door.

‘I saw a friend of yours today. You both remember Inga?'

Amy stiffened and nodded towards the door.

‘Answ—'

‘Yes,' Charlie shouted. After seeing what he'd done to the poor kitten she didn't want to make him angry.

Amy's hand dropped her side of the towel and moved towards her forearm. Charlie put her hand in the way.

‘Cover your ears,' she whispered but Amy shook her head and stared at the door.

‘Well, girlies, you'll be pleased to know she's dead—'

Amy's cry cut him off. Charlie could imagine him smiling on the other side of the door.

‘Ames, don't listen,' Charlie said again. She moved her hands towards Amy's ears but Amy pushed them away.

‘Yeah, she's a gonner and I made her suffer a lot more than I did with Brad. I hurt her real bad, girlies, before I finally broke her neck.'

Amy began to shake her head.

‘She cried, and begged, and screamed every time I belted her. She was pathetic but you know why she had to die, don't you, girlies?'

They were both silent but for the sound of Amy's nails raking the skin of her arm.

‘She had to die because she let us down. She was part of it, you see. She helped us get to you two. Told us everything about you, where you'd be. She did it because she never cared.'

Even in the dim light Charlie could see that Amy had lost every spot of colour from her cheeks. Her free hand was rubbing her stomach as her widened eyes continued to stare at the door.

‘He's lying, Ames. Don't listen,' Charlie said. She had known Inga since she was five years old and she didn't want to believe. But how else would they have known about her and Amy?

‘And, do you know what she said to me before I killed her? She said she never liked either of you and she hoped you were dead.'

Just at that second, Amy threw up.