He sat down on the bed a few feet away and looked around the room as if seeing it for the first time.
‘I have a confession to make.’
He smiled now, looking for all the world as if he were blissfully happy.
‘I made a mistake.’
Ruby stared at him. What was he up to? Where was this going?
‘I got the wrong girl. I shouldn’t have taken you. I’m sorry.’
He seemed genuinely penitent. And oddly relaxed.
‘What are you going to do to me?’ Ruby asked, her voice shaking as fear bit.
‘What do you think I’m going to do to you?’
He half laughed as he said it, as if she were the one that was mad, not him.
‘I’m going to let you go.’
127
‘Is there another way in?’ Helen barked, pulling Sanderson aside, her frustration finally getting the better of her.
‘Not according to the architect’s plans,’ Sanderson countered.
They had arrived at the WestQuay shopping centre discreetly – fifteen officers, all casually dressed as if for shopping – and fanned out, taking up their various vantage points. A few passes confirmed what was obvious straight away. Despite the fact that that it was only 5 p.m., WestKeys was shut.
They couldn’t force the shutters open without causing a scene and possibly alerting the suspect – or friends of his – to their presence. So Helen was keen to find another way in. But the shop was small – a glorified kiosk really sandwiched between bigger, brighter outlets – and had no rear entrance.
‘Keep our eye on it,’ said Helen, handing over the surveillance to Sanderson and marching over to DC McAndrew, who stood with her mobile clamped to her ear.
‘What have you got?’
McAndrew held her hand over the mouthpiece as she replied:
‘WestKeys is owned by an Edward Loughton.’
‘So Ben Fraser is just an employee. Can we raise Loughton? If he can give us a home address for Ben Fraser, then we might still be able to save Ruby.’
‘Loughton died three years ago. He’s got a sister who lives somewhere locally, we’re trying to track her down.’
McAndrew resumed the call, spelling out the name of the woman they now sought. As she did so, Helen paced up and down. Every delay, every setback would cost them dear now. They were so close to unmasking him, but would it all be for nothing? Thoughts of Alison and Jonathan Sprackling arrowed into her mind now – she could sense their desperation, their longing to be reunited with the girl they had rescued all those years ago. Helen refused to believe that their kindness had been for nothing, that Ruby could be snuffed out as cruelly as the other girls. But she was powerless to influence matters and the fact that the shop had been shut early filled her with alarm. Any deviation from his normal routine was bad news for them.
And bad news for Ruby.
128
Helen stopped in her tracks as soon as she entered the lobby of the Great Southern. She had been in a world of her own, walking automatically towards the lift bank, but the sight of Daniel Briers at reception brought her to a halt. He had a suitcase with him and by his side stood a tall lady with long dark hair and an elegantly swollen belly.
‘Daniel?’
He turned and on seeing Helen smiled – but it was forced and unconvincing.
‘Are you leaving?’
‘I am,’ he replied, failing to look her in the eye. ‘I wanted to stay for the duration as you know. But obviously I’ve got other responsibilities so… This is Kristy, my wife.’
‘DI Helen Grace. I’m running the investigation -’
‘I know who you are,’ Kristy Briers replied, shaking hands cursorily with Helen.
‘You’ve got all our contact details haven’t you, in case there’s any news…’ Daniel continued. His concern and interest were genuine, but Helen could sense he just wanted to be out of this conversation.
‘Of course. In fact I was just coming here to update you. There have been some significant dev-’
‘Do you always update people in hotel rooms? At night?’
Kristy’s question was delivered calmly, but had an edge to it that was hard to miss.
‘No, but I made your husband a promise to keep him up to speed with the very latest developments. And I was honouring that promise.’
Helen’s tone was even but firm. She had undoubtedly put herself in an awkward position by handling Daniel Briers personally, but they had done nothing wrong, so why should she be castigated for showing compassion?
Pulling the couple aside, Helen told them about the police search for Ben Fraser and her hope that they would soon make an arrest. Daniel asked a few questions, but the conversation swiftly came to a natural conclusion. There was nothing more to say.
‘Thank you, Helen. For everything. It would mean the world to me to see justice done.’
He spoke from the heart, but the words still sounded strange to Helen. Everything was slightly off tonight. Daniel shook her hand formally and with a brief look back walked towards the awaiting car. Kristy made to follow then paused, turning back to Helen.
‘Don’t feel too bad. It happens to them all in the end.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘I’ve been with Daniel for over ten years now. I know what he’s like -’
‘Kristy, I really don’t know what you’re allud-’
‘The thing about Daniel is that he likes attention. Loves to have a pretty face staring up at him, an arm round his shoulder. Or someone to keep him warm at night. It’s like an addiction, there’s no other way to explain it. But you should never take it personally, it’s not you he’s interested in. It’s himself.’
Kristy stared at Helen. She was victorious, but it was a pyrrhic victory for a woman who seemed accustomed to betrayal.
‘I should probably leave him, but I guess it’s a bit too late for that, isn’t it?’ She patted her belly and looked Helen in the eye. ‘Don’t contact him directly again. If there is any news, get another officer to call. Preferably a male one.’
She turned on her heel and walked towards the car. Daniel held the door open for her, shutting it gently behind her once she’d climbed in. A brief apologetic look at Helen and he was gone. Leaving Helen alone and feeling more foolish than ever.
129
Whatever the weather, there is always something nice about Friday morning. The dark clouds that hung over Southampton spat contemptuously on the early-morning workers hurrying through the streets to their shops and offices, yet in spite of this Ben Fraser thought he detected optimism and happiness in their expressions. Only a few more hours and the weekend would begin. Who wouldn’t smile at that?
He too had hope in his heart this morning. There was still much to be done of course – some of it pleasant, some of it not – but when the path is clear in front of you, life is easy. He had risen early, washed and dressed by six a.m., and been on the streets not long afterwards. On these early reconnaissance trips, he always wore the regulation uniform of city workers in the summertime – jeans, T-shirt, sunglasses and a record bag casually slung over his right shoulder. He looked for all the world like a young man going places. But there was only one place he was going today.
Blenheim Road in Portswood looked even more drab in the daylight. Last night, it had had a kind of faded glamour but now it appeared in its true colours – a haven for students and wasters. Impoverished young workers – like Summer – liked it because the rents were cheap, but the whole place had the tired, lazy feel of a student hive. You could almost smell the ganja fumes as you walked up the street, Ben thought to himself.
He had barely been at his vantage point five minutes when Summer appeared. The gods really were smiling on him now. She looked even lovelier than he remembered. Crisp white blouse, smart charcoal suit, and long suede boots that click, click, clicked down the street away from him.