Pop Goes the Weasel (38 page)

They were floundering in the dark – hapless figures scrabbling for a foothold as the ground kept giving way beneath them. Racing back to the station, Charlie had taken the lead. Harwood might be the boss, but she had the operational experience and she refused to trust anyone else with this – there was too much at stake. But they were getting nowhere.

McAndrew had read Helen’s files twice already but had unearthed no clues as to Ella’s whereabouts. They had tried triangulating Helen’s mobile phone signal, only to find that her phone was turned off. It had last been used six hours ago, when she was at the nick, so would be no use to them now. Traffic cameras had picked Helen’s bike up speeding north, but then lost her as she left the city centre. Where the hell was she? What had she seen that no one else had?

Charlie marched along the corridor, then down the stairs and out of the station. The team would continue to do their work as directed, but Charlie felt she needed to be out doing something. And as she neared her car, she slowed. A thought was forming, a past conversation coming back to her. Slowly an idea took hold and, electrified,
she jumped in the car and roared off. Suddenly she knew exactly where to go.

Heads turned as Charlie marched between the line of desks, making a beeline for the office at the back. The security guards and receptionists, whose protests she’d ignored, hurried after her, but she had too big a lead on them and she was in Emilia’s office before they could get to her. Slamming the door shut, she rammed a chair under the handle and turned to face the startled reporter.

‘Where is she?’ Charlie demanded.

‘Where’s who?’

‘Helen Grace.’

‘I have no idea and frankly I’m not sure what you think you’re –’

‘How do you do it?’

‘Do what? Make sense, please, Char—’

‘You know where she is, you know who she is with –’

‘For God’s sake, why would I –’

Charlie was across the room before Emilia could finish her denial. Grabbing the reporter by the throat, she thrust her hard against the brick wall.

‘Listen very carefully to me, Emilia. Helen’s life is at stake here and I promise you that if you do not tell me what I need to know
right now
, I will nail your head to this wall.’

Emilia was choking now, Charlie’s hands growing ever tighter round her throat.

‘I
have been through too much to let her down, so tell me how you do it. Are you bugging her phone? Intercepting her messages?’

Emilia shook her head. Charlie cracked it hard against the wall.

‘TELL ME!’

Emilia made a gurgling noise as if she was trying to speak, so Charlie loosened her grip. Emilia mumbled something.

‘What?’

‘Her bike,’ Emilia croaked.

‘What about it?’ Charlie demanded.

‘There’s a tracking device on her bike.’

So there it was.

‘How do you follow her?’

‘It’s linked to my phone. As long as she’s within a five-mile radius of me, I can find her.’

‘Good,’ Charlie said, releasing her victim. ‘Take me to her.’

The baby shrieked wildly on the bed, working herself up into a frenzy. Neither woman made a move to comfort her. They were frozen in time, on the cusp of salvation or destruction. Helen’s eyes remained glued to Ella. She had refused to take Helen’s hand or drop her knife. She was just staring at her screaming baby as if trying to penetrate some insoluble mystery. Helen thought that if she moved suddenly she could disarm Ella, now that she was distracted, but she daren’t risk it. Not now that she seemed so close to bringing her round.

‘I didn’t mean for this to happen.’

Helen was startled when Ella spoke.

‘I didn’t want this to happen.’

‘I know.’

‘It’s his fault.’

‘I know your dad was a cruel man –’

‘I’ve done those other kids a favour.’

‘The twins?’

‘And Carrie. I’ve freed them.’

‘You’re right, Ella. He was a bully and a sadist.’

‘And a fucking hypocrite. Do you know what he said to me? He said I was evil. Dirty. He said I had a black heart.’

‘He
was wrong.’

‘After those guys … did what they did, I was on booze, drugs, pills, whatever I could get … I was killing myself, I … I’d vowed I would never ask for their help again. I hated him. And her.’

She shot a glance at Amelia.

‘But I was seven months gone. And I … I begged for their help.
Begged
them to find a home for her. Somewhere away from
me
. And they shut the door in my face. Told me that being raped was too good for me.’

The words shot out, fractured and bitter.

‘He looked me in the face … and said the most diabolical things and then … and then …’

‘You saw him again, didn’t you? Later on? You saw him picking up a prostitute.’

Ella turned and now her eyes were full of rage.

‘It was only a few weeks later … And they
knew
each other. He was a bloody
regular
. And then I got it – every Tuesday night for God knows how long he’d been … After everything he’d said, after everything he’d
done
…’

‘He lied to you, he lied to your mum.’

‘When I did him, he never even knew me. A bloody black wig and a few nose rings … but I could have been wearing my school bloody uniform with a big smile on my face. All he could think about was what he was going to get, what “Angel” would let him do to her. He was a pig and he got what he deserved.’

Helen
said nothing. Amelia was growing puce now with crying, a barking cough racking her body.

‘We need to pick her up, Ella. You need to pick her up.’

Ella snapped out of it, casting a suspicious look at Helen.

‘We can’t leave her crying like this. She’s going to choke.’

The volume of Amelia’s cries rose still further, then the barking cough started up again. Ella hesitated.

‘Please, Ella – put the knife on the bed, pick up your baby and let’s all walk out together.’

Ella looked at Amelia, then at the knife in her hand. This was it then – do or die.

‘Let’s end this.’

Up, up, up. The Tactical Support team mounted the stairs at double speed, climbing to their vantage point on the top floor of the crumbling building. The stairs were broken and unstable and Harwood had to pick her path carefully, as she followed in their wake. Behind her she heard McAndrew put her foot through a board, cursing loudly as she did so.

‘Be quiet for God’s sake,’ Harwood hissed at her.

Before long they were in place. Looking down, Harwood could see Helen’s bike parked outside the squat opposite. Charlie had already entered it – the dossers living there had confirmed that Ella Matthews lived at the very top of the building. Across the way, Tactical Support were now in place and searching for their quarry.

‘What’ve you got?’ Harwood demanded, her nerves jangling.

‘Two females.’

‘Grace?’

‘And another.’

‘What’s happening?’

A long pause.

‘I
can’t see. They are kind of locked together. It’s hard to get a good angle from here.’

‘There’s nowhere else to go, so work with it. Can you see a weapon?’

‘Negative.’

‘Can you get a clear shot?’

‘Negative.’

‘Well what the fuck can you give me?’

‘You want to be hauled up in front of the IPCC, be my guest,’ the irritated sniper replied. ‘But I can’t get a clear shot and I’m not doing anything until I can. You know better, then take over, please.’

He spat the words out without once looking up, his vision locked on the drama playing out across the road. Harwood scowled inwardly. She knew he was right but it didn’t make it any better. She had staked a lot on this investigation and it had to turn out right.

What the fuck was going on in there?

Helen refused to drop her gaze. Ella was virtually eyeball to eyeball with her. Helen could smell her rank breath, could feel the cold steel of the knife pressing against her leg. Still Ella refused to relinquish it.

‘Why do you want to save me, Helen?’ Ella asked suddenly.

‘Because I think you’ve been wronged. Because I think the world owes you.’

‘You think I’m good?’ A snarl came and went in her voice.

‘I
know
you’re good.’

Ella smiled bitterly.

‘Well then, you listen to me. I want you to know something.’

She was about to speak, then paused, distracted by a sudden squeak from the living room. A board creaking. Helen knew immediately that they had company. Charlie? Tony? Tactical Support? Helen wanted to scream at them to stay the fuck away, but she stayed stock still, not breaking eye contact, not breathing. Ella hesitated for a second, then leaned in closer.

‘I don’t regret it, Helen. Whatever I say afterwards, I want
you
to know. I don’t regret a single thing.’

Helen
said nothing. Ella’s pupils were dilated, her breathing unsteady.

‘Those men … those hypocrites … they
deserved
to be exposed,’ she continued. ‘They were happy enough to flaunt their wedding rings, play the husband and father. They weren’t so happy to be seen with girls like
me
. Well, I changed all that. I showed them up for what they really are. Sometimes the world needs a wake-up call, right?’

She looked at Helen fiercely for a moment, then the fire seemed to die in her eyes.

‘But I want to do right by Amelia. So I’m going to trust you. Can I trust you, Helen?’

‘You have my word. I won’t let you down.’

‘Then thank you.’

Slowly she turned the knife in her hand. Gripping the blade, she held the handle up for Helen to take.

Immediately there was a sharp crack and Ella lurched sideways, crashing into the wardrobe next to her.

Helen froze for a moment, stunned. Then snapping out of it, she rushed to Ella. Even as she knelt down to help her, she could see that it was already hopeless. The bullet had entered through Ella’s temple and she was already dead.

Charlie burst in, but it was too late. Helen was cradling the killer’s corpse and on the bed, spattered with blood, her baby continued to cry.