Lost Girls Read online

  She was halfway down the perimeter line. Even if she sprinted up or down and round to the other side she would lose valuable time.

  Kim stood still for one more second before thrusting her arm forcefully through the hedge.

  Her hand met and curled into thick, coarse cloth. The wind lulled so that she heard a sharp intake of breath. And then a laugh.

  ‘Who the hell…?’ Kim said, pulling the jacket through the trees.

  Kim loosed the figure who was trying to brush tree cobwebs from her face.

  ‘Up to your old tricks again, Stone. Keeping secrets?’

  Kim’s heart electrified in her chest.

  Tracy Frost knocked Kim’s hand away from her jacket but Kim stood firm. This was not going to end well.

  ‘What the hell are you doing here?’ Kim spat, but she already knew and it wasn’t good.

  ‘I could ask you the same question,’ Tracy said, tipping her head.

  ‘Except I’m not going to answer and you know it.’

  Kim’s mind was working furiously. She would not give this woman an inch.

  ‘I know there’s something big going on …’

  ‘Yeah, feel free to file that in the Dudley Star tomorrow,’ Kim said, holding her ground. ‘And don’t you have anything better to do than follow me around?’

  ‘You would make a great story, though.’

  ‘You followed me from the crime scene, didn’t you?’

  Tracy shrugged but looked mighty pleased with herself.

  ‘What the hell do you want?’ Kim asked. She was quickly losing patience. Conversing with anyone in freezing temperatures at four in the morning was bad enough but with this lowlife it was absolutely unbearable.

  ‘I reckon it’s an abduction,’ Tracy stated with a smile.

  Kim felt the disgust circulate around her body. Only this poor excuse for a woman could say that sentence with a smile.

  ‘Good for you,’ Kim said, turning away.

  Her heart was beating wildly. Kim knew she had a problem.

  ‘Press blackout, Force blackout. Tells me you’re scared of fucking it up again.’

  ‘Let’s not go there, Tracy.’

  ‘Ha, you still think it was me, don’t you?’

  Kim gritted her teeth. ‘I know it was you. You broke the story of Dewain Wright and cost him his life.’

  Tracy shook her head. ‘It wasn’t me,’ she said in a voice that said she was sick of saying the same thing.

  Kim was just as sick of hearing it and she still didn’t believe her.

  ‘No, you keeping the truth hidden did that and you know it.’

  Kim turned away. ‘Tracy, get the f—’

  ‘I’m going to find out what’s going on, Stone. And when I do—’

  ‘You’ll keep it to your damn self, you heartless bitch, because if you don’t you will live to regret it.’

  Tracy stepped forward into the challenge. ‘And if I don’t?’

  ‘Then I will leak a story of my own. I’m sure the public would love to know that you like a drink. I mean, really like a drink, and that one night you were so pissed you beat a man up for taking pictures of you, and only one of my officers being there stopped you getting arrested. Dawson should have booked you for drunk and disorderly, a few Section Five offences and a sexual assault.’

  Tracy stepped back.

  ‘You really thought I wouldn’t find out? Dawson may be a pain but he’s also very loyal. I know that your hand found its way down his trousers during the scuffle. Be a great headline for a crime reporter, wouldn’t it? Your editor would love to run it. Right after signing your letter of dismissal.’

  Tracy knew her well enough to know there was no bluff. Only one of them knew how much the threat needed to work. Although the press blackout was in operation, Tracy had a big mouth and Kim could do without her even voicing her suspicions.

  ‘A few days. I’ll wait a few days,’ Tracy said, backing away completely. ‘And then I’m digging.’

  Kim felt the relief flood through her body. The last thing she needed was Tracy sniffing around this case right now.

  Tracy was ten feet away when she turned. ‘I know what you’re thinking, Stone, and I’m not going to say it again. But instead of just instantly blaming me for what went wrong, check the timeline and see what you find.’

  Kim responded by turning away and entering the house. She didn’t need to check a thing. Tracy Frost was responsible for the death of Dewain Wright and that’s all there was to it. Tracy’s crack about Kim’s own culpability was no more than an effort to deflect blame from herself.

  Damn it, she would check the records and prove herself right once and for all.

  Twenty-Two

  Charlie Timmins sat with her back against the wall. It was one of the few areas she'd found that wasn’t covered in cool, wet slime that smelled really bad.

  The tops of her legs were cramping but she tried her hardest not to move. It was like playing the freeze game with Daddy, except when they played Mummy would stop the music and she and Daddy had to stay still for as long as they could.

  Charlie loved the game but found that when she had to concentrate on staying still every part of her wanted to move. Suddenly she would be covered in tiny invisible itches but she would try to focus on something around her to distract her mind.

  And that's what she was trying to do now as her hands absently stroked the hair of the head that had finally fallen asleep in her lap.

  Charlie had no idea if it was night or day or how long they’d been in the smelly darkness.

  The policeman said he'd been sent by Mummy because her car had broken down. Daddy had told her to never talk to strangers but he was a policeman.

  The thought of her daddy made her throat ache so bad. She fought back the tears out of habit. Amy got more frightened if she got upset. Then Amy's face would freeze and she'd breathe funny. Twice now, Charlie had managed to calm her back down by playing a game.

  She swallowed back the tears. They hadn't helped her yet. Mummy and Daddy hadn't come. At first she'd been angry but gradually she'd come to understand they didn't know where she was.

  Charlie knew they would come if they could.

  A shudder ran through the whole of her body but it wasn't the cold. It was a different kind of feeling to when Daddy had taken her ice skating. That day, her teeth had chattered and her flesh had been cool. But a minute away from the ice, and her trembling had stopped.

  She swallowed the fear down deep into her stomach and tried to tell herself she wasn't afraid. Trying to think about everything that had happened kept the shaking away.

  The room held one double mattress and a bucket. Charlie had realised just a few seconds before Amy what it was for. A single bulb hung from the ceiling, throwing a sickly yellow glow around the room.

  She tried to focus on what she knew. There were two men. They didn't come into the room but she knew there were two because their footsteps were different. She and Amy had been fed twice and one placed the meals just inside the door and the other skidded them across the floor.

  Both meals had been the same. A sandwich in a plastic package, a bag of crisps and a carton of juice.

  Their last meal had been brought by the skimmer. Charlie had shushed Amy to listen as the footsteps on the stairs had been followed immediately by the opening of their door. The door had closed and the footsteps had moved away. Another door opened and closed not far away. Then the footsteps had passed by their door once more before going back upstairs.

  It was something she'd think about more when she wasn't so tired. Maybe she could just rest her head back and sleep for a little bit. The sound of Amy's deep breathing was willing her into relaxation. Maybe for just a minute, while Amy was sleeping, if she could ignore the mattress spring digging in her thigh.

  Her head fell back against the knobbly, cold wall. Even the coarse brick digging into her head couldn't stop the weight of her eyelids from drooping. She felt the heavy blackness descend
. She liked it. She wanted to follow it. It looked safe and maybe when she woke up Mummy and—

  ‘How are you doing in there, little girlies,’ said a voice from the other side of the door.

  Charlie bolted upright. The fatigue had pulled her towards sleep and she’d missed the warning noises she was trying to learn.

  ‘Charl … what’s …?’ Amy stirred and lifted her head, woken by Charlie’s sudden movement.

  ‘Shhh …’ Charlie hushed.

  ‘I’ve been busy tonight, little girlies. Do you know Brad from the leisure centre?’

  Amy had grabbed her hand and held it tightly. The sound of the voice was almost nice. It was soft but not warm. Pleasant but not friendly.

  ‘Who’s Brad?’ Amy whispered.

  ‘He sometimes took our money at the front desk,’ Charlie whispered. And he had once put a plaster on Amy’s toe.

  ‘Answer me, girlies,’ he shouted.

  ‘Y-yes,’ Charlie shouted back as Amy scooted into her.

  ‘I met him today and we played a little game. I like to play games.’

  Amy sucked in a big breath and looked towards her. Charlie felt her eyes widening as she continued to stare at the door.

  ‘The game was to see how many times I could kick his head before it exploded. It was so funny when his nose splattered beneath my boot. I kicked him again and his eyeball popped clean out of his socket.’

  ‘Charl …’ Amy whispered. ‘Make him …’

  ‘Put your hands over your ears,’ Charlie said. And she would do the same.

  ‘I can’t,’ she said, unwilling to let Charlie’s hand go.

  ‘Come here,’ Charlie said, lifting their joined hands between both their heads like a pair of shared earphones. ‘Now do this,’ she said, raising her free hand to cover her other ear.

  ‘…cried like a baby and begged … to stop … kicked him again. A good … rugby kick and I … head might break away from … neck.’

  Although the voice was muffled, Charlie could still hear most of the words and it was enough to paint a terrifying picture in her head.

  She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block out the words and the images.

  ‘…snapped and blood poured out of … ears … teeth landed … floor.’

  Amy gave a little whimper and Charlie pulled her closer.

  ‘…brain oozed … over …’

  ‘Charl …’ Amy breathed.

  Charlie was powerless to make it stop. She closed her eyes even tighter, scrunching up her whole face to block him out.

  ‘…enjoyed it, girlies. I loved … second of it. … payment you see. Not interested … money … causing pain. I hurt … bad, my little pretties …’

  Charlie was still hearing only parts and it was enough to make her tummy feel bad. But when the final sentence came she heard every word.

  ‘And I can’t wait to play a game with you.’

  Twenty-Three

  Kim was already sitting up straight at the dining table when the first member of her team arrived. This morning briefing would be a speedy one and she wasn't in the best of moods. She didn't like late-night visitors and she especially detested liars. Tracy was both of those things.

  ‘Morning, Guv,’ Bryant said, removing his overcoat. The casual dress code had been discarded. It was Monday, their first full day of investigation, and he was a detective. That meant charcoal suit, white shirt and tie. The first two were not negotiable but on occasion the third offered a smidge of flexibility. For Bryant, plain clothes directive was not dress-down Friday. Although only forty-seven, there was a lot of old school inside him.

  ‘Coffee's done,’ she offered.

  He took a mug and poured a cup. ‘Helen's an early bird, eh?’

  Kim nodded. The FLO had knocked on the front door at five forty-five sharp.

  ‘Is that the same kid on the door since yesterday?’

  ‘Yeah,’ she said. ‘There's a second officer coming to take the day shift and then Lucas will be back tonight.’

  ‘You talked to Woody already?’

  ‘Sent him a text.’

  Bryant held his coffee with both hands and looked at the photo on the wall. ‘Pretty little girls,’ he observed. ‘And she is rocking that hair.’

  Kim smiled as Dawson and Stacey walked in together.

  She noted immediately that Dawson had taken full advantage of their distance from the office and was wearing indigo G-Star jeans with a university sweatshirt.

  ‘In a rush, Kev?’ she asked, staring pointedly at his lower half. Of her team, he was always the one to push her just that little bit.

  ‘No, Guv, I just …’

  She stared at him, hard.

  He held her gaze for five seconds before looking away.

  ‘I don't expect to have to tell you again. Now, get the board.’

  Stacey sat at the head of the table and switched on her equipment.

  ‘Okay, across the top of the board write “Charlie and Amy”. On the left I want the date and time of the snatch. Next column I want the two text messages word for word. On the second board I want lines of enquiry.’

  Kim slowed. Dawson was doing his best to keep up with her but was still writing the content of the second text message.

  ‘First line of enquiry is CCTV. Against that, note Inga. Second is phone numbers that sent the texts. Third is case files from last time and fourth is the list of possible enemies from family members. As a prosecutor Stephen's will be long and possibly most relevant. Next we look at any names from Elizabeth and then the list from Robert.’

  Kim waited for Dawson to catch up.

  ‘Last heading is just the initials “FM”. We need to tread carefully on this one. Investigating family members is going to cause a divide between us and them so I'd prefer they didn't know.’ She turned to Stacey. ‘I want you to dig around their friends, acquaintances, extended family and finances.’

  ‘But if they’re not to know, how—’

  Kim cut Dawson off. ‘That's where Helen comes in. She'll get some names and details without arousing suspicion.’

  ‘But, Guv?’

  ‘Yes, Kev?’ she said, giving him her full attention.

  ‘What if this is the same MO as the last time? What if it's the same people as before? Doesn't that make all this a waste of time?’

  ‘You know, Kev, I wish I'd thought of that. I know, scrub the board clean and when I next speak to the kidnappers I'll ask if it was them. Sit back, everybody, we're just gonna wait for them to call.’

  Kim knew she was being a little harsh on him but some days Dawson’s manner just got under her skin.

  ‘Kev, even if it is the same kidnappers, these two families were chosen for a reason so there has to be a link.’

  He nodded his understanding.

  ‘So, I want you out there tracking Inga. Speak to neighbours, friends, anybody that might offer a clue to her whereabouts. We know she was involved and that’s how they got the details of the routine. We also know she got scared and decided to bail. She is the priority.’

  ‘Got it,’ Dawson said.

  ‘Okay. Stace, what can we get from the mobile phone numbers?’

  Stacey pulled a face. ‘Not a bloody lot.’

  Exactly what Kim had been afraid of. She waited for Stacey to explain.

  ‘We can't tell from the text messages which network each phone is connected to. I reckon he'll have a hoard of pay as you go phones with free credit that ain’t registered. And if he's as clever as we hope he ain’t they'll all be on different networks anyway, making it almost impossible for us to approach the providers.’

  ‘Can't we just track the mobile phone numbers?’ Dawson asked.

  For a detective he watched way too much television.

  Stacey shook her head. ‘Mobile positioning is a technology used by telecom companies to approximate the location of a mobile phone.’

  She placed her own coffee mug and Bryant's about ten inches apart and placed her pencil between
them.

  ‘It's based on measuring power levels and antenna patterns, ’cos a powered mobile phone always communicates wirelessly with one of the closest base stations. Advanced systems determine the sector where the mobile phone resides and roughly estimates the distance to the base station, sometimes down to fifty metres in urban areas.’

  ‘Well, surely that's a starting point?’ Dawson asked.

  Stacey moved the mugs to the edges of the dining table and left the pencil where it was. ‘In rural areas there might be miles between base stations, so a hit on a tower can be pretty useless in terms of location.’

  ‘But we have the telephone numbers,’ Dawson said.

  Stacey rolled her eyes and turned to Kim. ‘Guv?’

  ‘Because the phones will be switched off, Kev. No tracking technology will work if the phone isn't at least powered.’

  ‘Do we know for sure …?’

  ‘Checked them both last night,’ Kim said. ‘They're off, maybe even broken up and thrown away by now.’

  Bryant took his mobile phone tower and drank from it.

  Dawson was unconvinced. There were days when his tenacity proved invaluable, but sometimes it was wrongly directed.

  ‘But I read an article about accessing a mobile phone's internal microphone to eavesdrop on the conversation.’

  ‘Yeah, good luck with getting anyone to sign a warrant on that,’ Stacey said. ‘But it probably wouldn't do any good. I'm betting the batteries ain’t even in the phones.’

  ‘But can't we do anything?’

  Stacey sighed. ‘Oh Kev, we can get permission to position phones in emergency situations but it's pretty clear he's gonna use a different phone for every communication and the phone would still need to be switched on. All I can do is fire off emails to the four main networks with the numbers and see if they'll carry out a search – but we're talking days, if not weeks, and an invoice that will run into thousands from each of ’em.’

  Stacey looked to Kim for confirmation.

  Kim didn't hesitate. ‘Do it anyway, you never know. We need every chance we can get on this one.’