‘We’d love to do more, but there’s only so much we can do. We have our hands full here as it is,’ the manager concluded.
‘I understand – it’s tough. Tell me a little more about Suzanne. What did she do when she was here? Did she have friends? Anyone she confided in?’
‘Not that I know of. She didn’t really join in. Kept herself very much to herself. Mostly she liked to exercise. She’s very well-built, muscular, athletic. She did a lot of body-building and when she wasn’t in the gym, she was helping out with the culling. She was stronger than most of the blokes, they said.’
‘Culling?’
‘In Thetford Forest. It’s only a couple of miles away and every year we allow some of our residents to help out with the summer cull if they want to. It’s strictly supervised obviously because of the firearms, but some people like it – it’s hard manual labour and you get a whole day out in the fresh air.’
‘How so?’
‘It’s mostly red deer in Thetford. They are shot early in the day, usually in remote areas of the forest. It’s pretty impassable for vehicles, so draggers have to get them back to the nearest track so they can be loaded up.’
‘How?’
‘Using a deer harness. You tie the deer’s legs together, then clip a canvas cord round the bind. The cord is attached to a harness – bit like a mountaineer’s harness – that you put on round your shoulders. Then you drag the deer along behind you. Much easier than trying to carry it.’
Another piece of the jigsaw had fallen into place.
92
Charlie stared at the computer screen, her stomach knotted with tension. Skype was doing its trilly ring tone thing and Charlie was praying someone would answer. The fate of Stephanie Bines hung in the balance.
It had been an exhausting search, but Charlie had never given up hope. Accompanied by DCs Bridges and Grounds, she’d trawled every low-rent pub, café and nightclub in Southampton and beyond. The conversation always went the same way:
‘Yeah, we know Stephanie. Used to work here few months back. Very popular, especially with the fellas.’
‘And do you know where she is now?’
‘No idea. Just didn’t show up for work one day.’
Initially this had made Charlie extremely nervous. Any mention of sudden disappearances was likely to do so in this case, but slowly Charlie formed a picture of a naturally itinerant young woman, not comfortable in herself, who didn’t form strong attachments to people or places. She was a traveller who had dropped anchor on the south coast, but something told Charlie that this was only a temporary mooring. So she’d stopped pounding the streets and returned to the incident room to run a check on international travel. The last trace of her in Southampton was in September, so she started there. Aided by her DCs she bashed the phones to Qantas, British Airways, Emirates, before eventually hitting the jackpot with Singapore Airlines. October the 16th, Stephanie Bines, one-way ticket to Melbourne. Further checks revealed that Stephanie had a sister living in a suburb of Melbourne and Stephanie had now been traced – alive and well seemingly – to her home there.
But Charlie was taking no chances, hence the Skype hook-up. The killer’s ability to mislead and deceive was such that Charlie wouldn’t, couldn’t relax until she’d seen Stephanie with her own eyes.
And there she was. More tanned than before, blonder than before, but definitely Stephanie. A small victory for Charlie, Helen and the team. They had saved one at least. Had Stephanie’s sudden decision to return home spoiled the killer’s best-laid plans?
Stephanie didn’t need much encouragement to get travelling again. She’d only been at home a few weeks, but already was feeling suffocated and belittled. Charlie had to think on her feet, inventing a mild security risk connected to the gangland trial Stephanie had helped to conclude. She was calm and reassuring, but suggested it might be best for Stephanie and her family if she took a little trip – to Queensland, the Red Centre, wherever – whilst they got to the bottom of things over here.
Charlie ended their Skype session with a sense of optimism – perhaps the killer wasn’t so invincible after all.
Her attention was suddenly caught by Mark, gesturing to her from across the incident room. She hurried over.
‘Station have just taken a call. Tanner’s been spotted begging near the old kids’ hospital on Spire Street.’
‘When?’
‘Five minutes ago. Mum with a buggy called it in. She’d given Tanner a quid and nearly lost her whole purse into the bargain.’
They were on the road and heading to the city centre. Was Tanner their killer? They would soon find out. Charlie felt her pulse quicken, as she and Mark sped to the scene. It was good to be back in the saddle together and closing in for the kill.
93
There are countless moments in the average life when you have to decide whether to open yourself up or bury yourself deep. In love, at work, amongst your family, with friends, there are moments when you have to decide whether you are ready to reveal your true self.
Helen had deliberately made herself an enigma. She had a thick carapace that she presented to the world and it defined her – she was tough, resilient, incapable of doubt or regret. She knew that was far from the truth, but it was amazing how many others bought it. We always question ourselves more than we question others and most of her colleagues and occasional lovers seemed to buy the image of a tough, committed career copper who could not be shocked, frightened or intimidated. The longer she kept it up, the more people believed it, which is why she had taken on an aura of other-worldliness, especially amongst uniform.
Helen knew all this and paused for breath now as she stood on the verge of smashing the idol she had created. Letting others in now was the right thing to do and could save lives, but it came at a cost to Helen, dredging up events and decisions that had been buried deep.
DC Bridges entered, breaking Helen’s introspective trance. He was carrying the case files she’d requested. As they pored over the pages together, discreetly tucked away in her office, Helen was constantly evaluating each link in the chain, double-and triple-checking her assumptions. There could be no room for doubt.
Then suddenly her heart stopped.
‘Go back.’
‘To personal effects? Or -’
‘The forensics report. From Morten’s house.’
In the wake of Sandy Morten’s disappearance, forensics had scoured his house. They knew the abductor had been there, had drunk champagne with Morten and Mickery, so had searched long and hard for any traces of her.
‘Nothing there, boss. Forensics found lots of DNA from Mickery, Morten, his wife, all the main -’
‘The second page.’
‘Just the incomplete samples, most of which we’ve signed off…’
Helen snatched the report from him and stared at it. There could be no doubt now. She knew who the killer was and why she was killing.
Tanner was nowhere to be seen. But a discarded handbag near the boarded-up childrens’ hospital suggested she had been here recently and perhaps bagged the prize she was after. They were about to leave, when they heard something that made them stop in their tracks. A sharp metallic clunk from within the derelict building, as if something had been dropped.
Mark gestured to Charlie. Instinctively they both turned off their radios and phones, and crept towards the building. One of the boards on the windows was loose – this could be the perfect hiding place for someone who wanted to come and go unseen.