Ben slipped out from his hiding place and padded down the street after her, seemingly intent on a phone call – on an iPhone that had given up the ghost years ago. He muttered nonsense into it, amusing himself by the random collision of words. He didn’t care what he was saying, his real focus was fifty yards ahead of him.
She stopped at a nearby Costa to pick up a latte and a croissant, slipping the latter into her bag to eat at her desk later. Ben wondered if this was her habitual breakfast stop-off – time would tell. She walked to the bus stop and Ben kept pace with her, slipping on to the number 28 bus behind her.
Watching her at close quarters, he felt himself blessed as never before. It had been so long, but here she was. Back where she should be. He took in every detail of her hair, her face, her clothes, her mannerisms, her habits. He noted that she left her bag open, having removed her phone to text. A little trusting, he thought, but not unhelpful – he could glimpse her set of keys within. What else did she have in there, he wondered.
She got off the bus in Nicholstown and Ben was soon padding behind her, making a mental note of her route to the employment agency where she worked. She was so oblivious to his presence, he even managed to clock the key code she tapped in to enter the lobby – all useful information for the future.
Soon she disappeared from view, but Ben wasn’t downhearted. It had been a successful trip. Far more successful than he had any right to expect. But luck was with him now and slowly, but surely, he was climbing inside her life.
130
Ruby lay on the bed and smiled. She hadn’t slept a wink – she’d been too wired following Ben’s visit to even consider that. She was going home. This was the one outcome she had never really expected throughout her incarceration and yet it was true. Soon she would see her mum, dad, Cassie and Conor. She would be back where she belonged.
Her eyes drooped – her body, her brain demanded sleep now – but still Ruby resisted. Previously she had wanted to take refuge in dreams, to escape the grim misery of everyday life down here. But now she feared sleep. If she went to sleep, who’s to say that she wouldn’t dream that she was still here, with him, trapped in this dark hell.
She pinched herself hard, twice. ‘Not long now, Ruby,’ she told herself, pulling her legs off the bed and forcing herself to pace back and forth. Stay awake, stay alert and before long she would see natural light again. The thought made her laugh, although in truth she was a little scared of the idea – surely it would blind her, so accustomed had she become to this dead gloom. But it would be a small price to pay for her freedom.
What had occasioned his sudden change of heart? Had he grown tired of her? Or had there been some development above ground? Had contact been made? A ransom been paid? It seemed unlikely but was there another credible explanation? Perhaps even now he was negotiating with them, trading his liberty for Ruby’s?
The thought thrilled Ruby. Perhaps he would never come back here again. Safer by far to give up her location and move on, before he could be caught or traced. Surely that was what he’d do? It’s what Ruby would do.
For once his absence didn’t bother her. Usually she wondered what he was up to – what he was thinking and doing – and how that might impact upon her. But today she didn’t. Today she sat quiet and content, dreaming of the future. Dreaming of her future.
131
Helen sped through the city centre, her Kawasaki cutting a swathe through the static traffic. They had finally got an address for Edward Loughton’s sister and Helen was on her way there now. If she could help them locate Fraser, then there was still hope for Ruby.
Helen should have used a pool car – complete with lights and sirens – but it was quicker by bike and instinct told her to handle this alone. Ben Fraser might live with Alice Loughton for all she knew – they couldn’t afford to announce their arrival. Sanderson, McAndrew, Lucas and Edwards would follow close behind in unmarked cars, but Helen would take the lead.
She pulled up sharply by the kerb. Melrose Crescent was an impressive street, lined with handsome Victorian villas. Somehow this street had survived the Second World War bombs – a proud reminder of Southampton’s architectural past. Edward Loughton had owned a number of shops and had clearly done well for himself. Having no wife or children, he’d bequeathed his estate to his younger sister – though, now aged seventy-four, Alice Loughton could hardly be called young.
Pulling off her helmet and shaking out her long hair, Helen climbed the wide stone steps up to the imposing front door. She rang the bell, but resisted rapping the knocker. No point alarming anyone – yet. She waited patiently, jogging from foot to foot as the tension coursed through her.
There was no movement within, so Helen rang the bell again. Please God, let her be in. Still nothing. She turned back to the street and was surprised to see Sanderson and McAndrew pulling up fifty yards away. They had made it here quickly, but had their journey been for nothing?
A sound made her turn. What was that? Footsteps. Yes, definitely, slow, measured footsteps approaching the front door. Through the mottled glass a figure appeared. Some fussing with the locks and then the door crept open, and an elderly woman’s face appeared above the security chain.
‘Can I help you?’ she intoned suspiciously.
‘DI Helen Grace,’ Helen replied, raising her warrant card for inspection.
‘What can I do for you?’ Alice replied, never once taking her eyes off the warrant card.
‘I’d like to talk to you about your brother. And about Ben Fraser.’
Her eyes narrowed. Was that suspicion Helen saw there? Anger? The elderly woman stared at her for what seemed like an eternity, then slipped off the chain and opened the door.
‘You’d better come in, then.’
Nodding her thanks, Helen stepped inside, the heavy door slamming firmly shut behind her.
132
Ben walked towards the WestQuay with a spring in his step. After all the recent trouble, things were shaping up nicely. Summer seemed her usual trusting self and as for Ruby, well… she wouldn’t be a problem for much longer. She believed she was going to be released, which would buy him a day or so before the shouting and moaning started. When would she realize that she had been abandoned? And how would she react? The first one had resisted for nearly two weeks, banging at the door, screaming and shouting. And the third one was just as bad. The second one was less bright and had given up more quickly, which was much less fun. He liked it when they ranted and raved and begged. He couldn’t hear them upstairs of course, so he had to descend into the basement when he wanted to listen to them. As soon as they heard his footsteps approaching, they started up with the pleading. He would never open the door, though sometimes he teased them, slipping the key into the lock before removing it again. The thought still made Ben smile.
Of course, this time the disposal would be more complicated. Carsholt beach had been perfect for him in its wild isolation – but events had forced the change. He had already made the decision to bury Ruby in the New Forest. If he took her there in the dead of night, he would be unmolested and he had to admit there was a pleasing symmetry about burying her where he had first burned her clothes. The vegetation was so thick round there, the chance of anyone stumbling upon the burial site was remote.
Ben was so wrapped up in his thoughts that only now did he realize that he had walked straight past his shop and all the way to the end of the arcade. Shaking his head, he turned and began to head back towards WestKeys. He was already late opening – he didn’t want to arouse anyone’s suspicions by…