Afraid (30 page)

‘What do you mean?’ Skye was confused. ‘She said she only flirted with you to get back at me, and she promised she wouldn’t do it again.’

‘She lied,’ Tom said flatly. ‘But that’s what girls like her are like: they’ll say anything to get their own way.’

‘What did she do?’ Skye asked, folding her arms over her stomach when it started to churn again.

‘She tried to seduce me when you fell asleep last night,’ Tom told her. ‘And when I said no, she threatened to tell you that
I
’d tried it on with
her
. That’s when I decided she had to go.’

‘Bitch,’ Skye muttered, unable to believe that the girl had been lying to her face after she’d gone out of her way to help her settle in. She’d treated her like a little sister, and had even let her wear the angel necklace.

‘My necklace!’ she gasped, raising her hand to her bare throat. ‘I lent her my necklace. Did she give it to you when you dropped her off?’

Tom shook his head and gave her a regretful look. ‘I didn’t know she had it, or I’d have taken it off her. Sorry.’

‘It’s not your fault,’ Skye said, sniffing back the tears that had begun to glisten in her eyes. She might not have wanted to wear the stupid thing, but she hadn’t wanted to lose it for ever. If she ever saw Chloe again, she would kill her for stealing it.

‘I should have listened when you told me what she was like,’ Tom said, reaching out to wipe an escaped tear from her cheek. ‘But I promise it’ll never happen again.’

‘What if she tells someone I’m here?’

‘She won’t. I made her swear on the Bible before she got out of the car. Just trust me on this. I guarantee she won’t tell a soul.’

Skye nodded, but the thought of what would happen if Chloe
did
tell was terrifying.

‘Are you all right?’ Tom asked.

Skye shook her head and swallowed loudly. ‘I feel really sick. I think I’ve got food poisoning off that takeaway.’

‘Doubt it, or I’d have it, too,’ said Tom. ‘You probably just had too much to drink. Anyway, this should make you feel better.’ He took a last drag on his cigarette and stubbed it out. Then he reached into his pocket. ‘Now we’ve got rid of the troublemaker, I thought it was time you had this back.’

Skye’s face lit up at the sight of her ring, and she smiled when Tom slipped it onto her finger.

‘Carry on behaving yourself like you have been lately, and I won’t have to take it off you again,’ he said. ‘Happy?’

Skye nodded vigorously and beamed as she gazed down at the tiny twinkling diamonds surrounding the dark sapphire. She had forgotten how beautiful it was, and she was determined never to lose it again.

‘Oh, and I’ve got another surprise,’ Tom said casually. ‘I’m taking you to meet some old friends of mine in a couple of weeks. Don’t worry,’ he added quickly when a look of panic leapt into Skye’s eyes. ‘I’ve told them my sister is staying with me, so they’ll think you’re her.’

‘But what if they recognise me?’ Skye asked.

‘They won’t,’ Tom assured her. ‘And it’ll give you a chance to show me what a good little wife you’re going to be.’

‘How?’

‘Just by being you,’ Tom said, taking her hand in his and giving it a reassuring squeeze. ‘Stop worrying, you’ll be great. Just dress yourself up in one of your pretty dresses, and tie your hair up how I like it, and they’ll fall in love with you, just like I did. Okay?’

Skye nodded, but she was already dreading it. He’d said that everything would be all right when he brought Chloe into their lives, and look how that had turned out. The girl had already betrayed her by trying to get off with Tom behind her back. And if she could lie about that, what was to say she hadn’t lied when she’d promised Tom that she wouldn’t tell anyone about them?

‘I’m going to be sick,’ she spluttered, yanking her hand free and jumping to her feet.

Tom sat back in his chair and watched thoughtfully as Skye rushed from the room and clattered up the stairs. She was his third attempt, and the only one, so far, that he’d been properly able to control. It had been a mistake to think that he could subdue a streetwise girl like Chloe, but he still wished it hadn’t had to end so badly.

He heard Skye throwing up in the bathroom on the floor above, and lit another cigarette before wandering into the doorway to listen. He hoped it wasn’t what he thought it was, because that would throw a serious spanner in the works. The men he’d lined up for the first face-to-face meet were expecting an innocent little girl, not a used, pregnant teenager. But it was too late to find a fresh one now, so Skye was his only option. She looked the part right now, so he’d have to put her to good use while he could because it would only be a matter of months before she was completely useless.

If
he allowed it to get that far.

21

As he strolled into the station. PC Andy Jones was laughing at a joke that one of his colleagues had just told. It was his first day back on duty after a fortnight’s break, and he looked tanned and healthy after lounging around at his mum and dad’s caravan park in Devon. When he retired from the force, he planned to up sticks and move down there permanently; maybe set up a little detective agency so that he could keep his hand in while he waited for the old man to bow out of the business. But, until then, he was happy to be back in Manchester – and eager to get stuck into whatever delights or horrors lay in store.

‘Hey, Andy. Over here.’

Jones looked round when he heard Dean’s voice, and grinned when he spotted his partner standing by the coffee machine.

‘Okay, Bud?’ He walked over and clapped a hand on Dean’s shoulder. ‘Missed me?’

‘Like a hole in the head,’ Dean quipped. ‘It’s never been so peaceful out there.’

‘So you’ve got nothing to tell me?’ Jones feigned disappointment. ‘No big arrests? Nothing juicy?’

‘You want juicy, take a look at this,’ DS Janice Holden said, walking out of her office just then with a photograph in her hand.

‘What’s this?’ Jones tilted his head and peered at it.

‘CEOP just faxed it over,’ she told him, holding it up so they could both see it. ‘They think it’s that girl whose dad you arrested for murdering her. Apparently, they were image-matching stills from some vids on a paedo website they’ve been investigating, and her name flagged up.’

‘You’re kidding me!’

Jones snatched the picture from her hand and stared at it. The girl who was featured in it was fair-haired, and looked to be around the same age as Skye Benson, but the image was too grainy to see any clear facial detail. Naked, and seemingly asleep – or, more likely, he guessed, unconscious – she was spread-eagled on a bed, with her wrists and ankles manacled to the foot- and headboards. A bright circle of light had been directed onto her exposed vagina, and Jones felt sick when he saw that a wine bottle had been inserted into her.

‘Do they know where this shit’s coming from?’ he asked, his jaw tight with fury.

‘They’re working on it,’ Janice told him. ‘It seems this particular site first popped up a year ago, but it went dormant for a while so they lost track of it. It reappeared a couple of months ago, and they’ve been trying to get a hook into it ever since. But they reckon that whoever’s behind it is juggling fake IP addresses, so they haven’t been able to pin it down to a specific location.’

‘Is it a pay-per-view site?’ Dean asked. ‘If it is, they should be able to trace where the money’s going.’

‘They didn’t mention it,’ Janice told him. ‘But I’m assuming they’re having problems with that, too, or I’m sure they’d have had him by now.’

‘When was this filmed?’ Jones asked, unable to make out the digits on the time-and-date stamp in the bottom right corner.

‘A week ago,’ said Janice.

Jones and Dean looked at each other as the implication of her words sank in.

‘So she’s not dead, then?’ Dean said quietly. ‘And Benson can’t be behind it, because he’s been in lock-up for weeks.’

‘Doesn’t mean he didn’t organise it,’ Jones muttered, wondering how he could have got this so badly wrong. ‘He could have sold her on, for all we know.’

‘We won’t know for sure until they track down whoever’s running that site,’ Janice told them. ‘I just thought you should know.’

Jones thanked her and handed the picture back.

‘What do you reckon?’ Dean asked when Janice had gone back into her office.

‘I don’t know, mate.’ Jones shook his head. ‘I just don’t know.’

‘Well, whether or not Benson’s involved in her disappearance, he obviously hasn’t murdered her,’ Dean pointed out. ‘So that charge’ll have to be dropped.’

‘
If
it’s her.’

‘I doubt the CEOP guys would have sent it over if they weren’t absolutely sure.’

Jones groaned and looped his fingers together behind his head.

‘I think we need to speak to the chief,’ Dean said quietly.

‘You mean jump before we’re pushed?’ Jones sighed, and his shoulders sagged as he lowered his arms. ‘Come on, then. Might as well get it over with.’

22

Two days later, Jeff was lying on his bunk re-reading Shirley’s letter for the tenth time when his cell door was suddenly unlocked.

‘What’s up?’ he asked, sitting up when Officer Smethwick walked in. ‘It’s not my turn to go out in the yard yet, is it?’

‘Get your stuff together,’ Smethwick ordered. ‘And hurry up; the Governor’s waiting.’

‘What does he want?’ Jeff asked, trailing down the landing behind Smethwick after hastily shoving his scant possessions into the prison-issue plastic bag.

‘Don’t ask me,’ Smethwick grunted. ‘I’m just the lackey who got sent to fetch you – like I’ve got nothing better to do than escort nonces round like it’s some sort of fucking holiday camp.’

Jeff didn’t bother saying anything else. Most of the screws had been at least civil if not actually friendly since he got sent here to wait for his court date, but he’d been doing his best to keep his head down nevertheless, in order to avoid the beatings and baitings he’d been expecting. Smethwick was a colder fish than most, and Jeff knew that any further questioning would earn him a backlash of some sort later on.

The Governor, Mr Owen, was seated at his desk with the telephone clamped to his ear when they reached his office. His door was open and he glanced up when he saw them. He waved for them to come in.

Jeff perched on the chair facing the desk, and held his bundle to his stomach. Conscious of Smethwick standing behind him, he scratched his neck and waited for the Governor to finish his call.

‘Sorry about that,’ Owen said when he’d hung up at last. ‘The wife’s having problems with the builders. But anyhoo …’

He smiled now, and Jeff frowned. It was the first time
any
one had smiled at him since he got here, and it unnerved him. ‘What’s going on, Mr Owen?’ he asked politely. ‘Am I in trouble?’

‘On the contrary,’ said Owen. ‘You’re leaving us.’

‘Eh?’ Jeff’s frown deepened, causing a deep crevice to split his forehead down the middle. He’d lost even more weight since being sent here, and he had aged twenty years.

‘There appears to have been a significant development in your case,’ Owen told him. ‘I’ll leave the police to explain the details, but the upshot is: the murder charge has been dropped.’

‘
What
?’ Jeff’s head reeled, and he gripped the edge of the Governor’s desk to steady himself.

‘Straighten up!’ Smethwick barked, jabbing him in the shoulder.

‘It’s all right.’ Owen held up his hand to tell the man to back off. ‘No harm done.’

‘Does this mean they’ve found Skye?’ Jeff asked when he felt able to speak again.

‘I don’t know the specifics,’ Owen admitted. ‘All I know is that the charge has been dropped and I’ve been told to release you.’

‘What about the other stuff?’ Jeff asked, struggling to take in the news. ‘The attempted-murder thing?’

‘You’ll have to speak to the police about that,’ said Owen. Then, glancing at his watch, he stood up and extended his hand across the desk. ‘I have an appointment, so I’ll have to go. Good luck, Benson; I sincerely hope our paths never cross again.’

‘Me, too,’ said Jeff, numbly rising from his seat and shaking the man’s hand.

Head still reeling, Jeff found himself on the pavement outside the prison an hour later, his bag of belongings in one hand, a travel pass in the other – although he had absolutely no idea where he was supposed to travel
to
, seeing as he had no home of his own and no friends or family to turn to.

He hadn’t yet moved when a police car pulled up alongside him a few minutes later, and his heart sank when PC Jones climbed out from behind the wheel.

‘What’s this?’ he asked resignedly as the man walked towards him. ‘Come to arrest me for something else I haven’t done?’

‘No, but I have come to take you to the station,’ Jones said, feeling awkward because this was the first time they had met since their last unpleasant encounter. ‘We need to talk to you.’

‘About what?’ Jeff stayed put.

Before Jones could explain, another car pulled up behind the squad car and Jeff’s solicitor, Malcolm Fitch, stepped out.

‘Sorry I’m late,’ he called, extending his hand as he rushed over to them. ‘I was just about to go into court when I got the call, and I’m afraid I couldn’t get out of it. How are you, Jeff?’

‘Okay,’ Jeff muttered as he shook Fitch’s hand. ‘But they want me to go to the station with them. They reckon they need to speak to me about something.’

‘I was under the impression that all charges had been dropped?’ Fitch raised a bushy eyebrow at Jones. ‘Didn’t Mrs Benson retract her statement after being updated re the latest developments?’

Jones nodded. ‘She did, sir. But this isn’t about that.’

‘What’s going on?’ Jeff looked in confusion from one to the other of the men. ‘What latest developments? Has Skye been found, or not?’

Fitch’s expression suddenly became grave, and he asked, ‘Haven’t you been told anything yet?’

‘No, nothing,’ said Jeff, an unpleasant feeling of apprehension stirring in his gut. ‘They have found her, though, haven’t they? She’s … she’s not dead?’