Kill Me Again (37 page)

She knew the man was listening, but she didn’t care. Maybe he would dump the van and they would carry on on foot. That would give her the best chance of escape. But to her horror, he laughed.

‘After my mate’s ridiculous behaviour the other day when he rather showed his hand, do you really think we would have kept the same number plate? We’re not petty criminals, Maggie. We’re skilled at what we do. We’re intelligent, and there’s not a police force in the world that can tie us to any crime.’

‘No, but Michael can, can’t he?’

She saw the man’s jaw muscles tense. ‘And we both know he’s not going to. He’s not going to accept the inevitable prison sentence, is he, because he doesn’t believe any of it is his fault.’

He gave a tight smile, and Maggie winced, knowing that every word was the truth.

‘Don’t hurt my mum, Sam,’ Josh suddenly said. ‘Because if you do, my dad will come for you. He’s strong, and he says we have to stand up to bullies.’

The man put his head back and laughed out loud, as if that was the funniest thing he had ever heard.

So this was Samil. Maggie had finally met the man who called himself the Angel of Death. Suddenly, the name didn’t seem quite so silly after all.

There was a slightly sharp smell in the back of the van, and the wooden floor was damp as if it had recently been cleaned. An indentation held a small puddle, and Maggie dipped her middle finger in. She felt a mild tingling and the end of her finger started to turn white.

This guy was smart. He knew that ordinary bleach removed bloodstains, but luminol would still reveal them. The only way to remove the haemoglobin was to use oxygen bleach
– hydrogen peroxide – so even if the van was found at some point there would be no blood evidence of his previous victims. The bodies had been in here.

Goosebumps broke out over her arms and up her neck. This was no ordinary thug.

‘Where are we going?’ she asked.

‘Shut up and stop asking stupid questions.’

Maggie had no intention of shutting up. If there was one thing she had to do, it was persuade this Samil or whatever his real name was that it was dangerous for him to keep Josh. She knew why she had been taken, but if Josh saw his mummy hurt he would be so damaged, and his knowledge would make him a danger to this man. Would Samil kill Josh to protect himself?

Josh had to be her number one priority. She would worry about herself later. She tried to think how to persuade Samil to let her son go. She was running out of time and silently apologised for the terror she was about to subject her small son to. But better frightened than dead.

‘Let Josh go at least. If you have an ounce of decency in you, stop the van and let him out. He’s only a little kid. Don’t let him witness whatever you’re going to do. That would make him a danger to you, and then you’d have no choice but to silence him. I can’t believe that you’d hurt an eight-year-old child. How does that fit in with your plans?

‘I told you to shut the fuck up.’

‘I’m a criminal lawyer, but then you know that, don’t you? So I know how killers work. Not many kill adults
and
small children, do they? It’s usually one or the other.’

Maggie screwed her eyes up tight for a second and prayed that Josh wouldn’t absorb what she was about to say.

‘I know you like to kill in threes. Are you going to find another two other little boys to make up the number?’

Once again she saw his jaw tighten. ‘I see you’ve been talking to Michael.’

Maggie was relieved that he was referring to her husband as Michael – at least Josh would not realise it was his daddy they were discussing.

‘I know you think Michael let you down all those years ago, but he never believed you were serious.’

‘Is
that
what he told you?’ She couldn’t see the man’s face, but clearly he wasn’t ready to forgive Duncan.

‘He let you get away with it, though. You should be grateful to him for
not
going to the police.’

‘You really don’t know him at all, do you.‘ It was a statement, not a question.

Maggie didn’t want to listen to this any more.

‘Never mind Michael. Never mind me. Whatever you’ve done, you think you’re in the clear. You’re clever, so I don’t doubt you could still get away with it. But if you… hurt a child…’ Maggie paused, a sob rising in her throat. She had been unable to say ‘kill’, but Samil knew what she meant. She couldn’t complete the sentence.

‘What? What will you do to me?’ he asked, his anger spiking through. She was getting to him and she wasn’t going to stop. He couldn’t shut her up; there was a grille between them.

‘Oh, I won’t be able to do a thing. I know that. But when you go to prison – because you
will
go to prison – what do you think will happen to you? They’ll say you’re a nonce. Nobody ever hurts kids for the thrill of the kill, do they? They won’t believe your motive was to keep him quiet. Men who hurt kids always have another agenda – a different kind of thrill in mind. Imagine that. Life in prison and segregated. Alone with your own thoughts. How will you like that?’ She didn’t wait for an answer but ploughed on. ‘What harm can it do letting him go? He doesn’t know your real name; he only knows the van, and you’ve already disguised that. There are thousands of white vans. Look, you’ve just passed one. Let him out, Samil. The police are looking for you because of the girls, but we all know that a child killer rarely gets away with it. They’ll double, treble the number of officers working on the case if you kill him. And they will
never
give up. We’re miles from home, and Josh knows nothing. But in a minute I will start talking. I will start spilling every tiny bit of information that Michael has given me. And Josh will remember. He’s good like that. And then you’ll have no choice, will you. Do the smart thing, Samil. Let my child out.’

He didn’t respond, and Maggie had run out of words.

Through the grille, she saw Samil glance briefly over his shoulder at her, a hint of a smile on his angular face. ‘Do you know, that’s not such a bad idea, Maggie,’ he said. ‘I’ll dump him here, in the middle of nowhere, shall I? Then some other creep can finish the job for me. Excellent plan.’

The van screeched to a halt beside the road.

‘Josh, get out and face that wall. If you turn round and try to read the number plate of this van, I will come back to get you, and I will hurt you and your mum. Do you understand?’

Maggie recognised the road they were on. It wasn’t the middle of nowhere. It was the main road to the north of Manchester, leading into the city. But the road was lined with businesses – there were no pedestrians or houses in sight.

Suddenly she was terrified. At least while he was in the van, he was with her. If he got out, there was a chance that he would be picked up by somebody as evil as Samil.

Stop it!
she told herself. How many bad bastards were there really? Surely there was a much better chance of him being picked up by somebody decent? And what choice was there? If he stayed with her, she was sure he was going to die.

‘I want to stay with you, Mum,’ he said, turning his scared little face towards her.

‘I know you do, sweetheart. But this is for the best. Somebody will find you and take you home. You know what to do. I need you to be brave one more time.’

The tears were running down Josh’s face as he slowly opened the door and lowered himself out of the van onto the pavement. He looked back at Maggie, and she could see confusion and doubt written all over his face. His world had been torn apart over the last week, and he must have felt totally lost.

‘I love you, Joshy – with every inch of my soul.’ He stared at her as if he didn’t believe a word of it.

‘Face the wall, Josh, or I’m coming back for you.’ That he did believe.

It was almost unbearable when Samil leaned across and pulled the door shut. Maggie couldn’t see Josh any more, but as the van pulled away, she looked out of the back window at the tiny figure of her son, still in his muddy football kit, one sock up, one around his ankles, standing facing the side wall of a carpet warehouse, his shoulders slumped, his head hanging.

58

Tom and Becky were both resigned to another late night. Tom had spent the afternoon on the telephone and now felt depressed because none of the ideas that were whizzing around inside his head seemed to help in any way in the hunt for Leo.

He glanced out of the window. It was dark now, and wherever Leo was it would probably be cold. He was now as certain as he could be that she had been abducted. Everything pointed to it – the flower delivery but no flowers left in the apartment, the car in the garage, no clothes or jewellery missing, failing to turn up to her niece’s christening. Ellie had asked her to be the baby’s godmother, Tom had discovered, and she would never have missed that. Right now Leo would no doubt be dreading the cold night ahead and he wasn’t able to find her.

He shook his head. That was his job, for God’s sake. He should be able to do this. His frustration wasn’t helping but she was his priority now, not crimes from the past. He had to prevent anything from happening to Leo, if he wasn’t already too late.

He turned his attention to the list of properties still owned by the Mellor family business, including those that had been sold off and were either already converted or due to be.

‘Great work, Becky, and tell Mark thanks.’

Becky nodded without taking her eyes off the list she was holding.

‘If those murders twelve years ago had anything to do with Adam Mellor, there’s a perfect building just here.’ Becky lifted her eyes from the list and pointed to a spot on the map they had pinned up in the incident room. ‘The first girl had her throat slit, right? And she was found on Pomona Island, but she had been killed somewhere else. This building is a short walk, under the arches below the tram line, to where you found her.’

‘But any trace of anything at all will by now have been obliterated. That mill was renovated eight years ago.’

‘I know.’ Tom could see Becky was avoiding his eyes. He had told her how much he had wanted to have the buildings searched. ‘What about the more recent girls?’ she asked.

Tom thought about it. The trouble was, the location of the bodies gave no clue at all. They had been found at different ends of the city. He was working on the assumption that the van had been used to move the bodies, and possibly the shopping trolley to get them to their final locations, but that meant the killing site could be any one of the derelict buildings still owned by the company.

‘Let’s consider access,’ Tom said. He called over his shoulder to one of the team, ‘Can we get Google Maps up on this screen, please?’ He pointed to the whiteboard next to the map they were studying. ‘If we can get street views and have a look around, we might be able to see which of these buildings has the best access. Mills with nowhere to park a van opposite newly renovated places are unlikely – they would have to cart a body across a pavement in full view of the neighbours. Let’s see if we can narrow it down.’

‘Do you want to leave it with me, boss?’ Becky asked. ‘I can give you a shout when we have it down to a couple of hot favourites.’

Tom nodded his thanks and made his way back to his office. He couldn’t get rid of the knot of anxiety in his gut, and everything was telling him that tonight was critical.

Hayley Walker’s mobile records had told them nothing, and Tom was increasingly convinced that Ben Coleman had lured her out of her house and into Adam Mellor’s clutches, but he couldn’t prove it. Maybe Coleman had fixed up a date with her before he had supposedly gone on holiday. Tom had asked for alerts to be put on the credit and debit cards of both Coleman and Mellor, and their phones were being monitored, but nothing had come up.

A couple of the reports Tom had asked for were on his desk. Neither of them filled him with joy, but he picked up the first one and scanned it again. He had just reached an interesting point when his telephone rang.

‘Mr Douglas, we’ve had a call from a member of the public. A gentleman and his wife discovered a little boy standing crying by the side of the road – Bury New Road, heading into town. He says his name is Josh Taylor and a man has taken his mother.’ Tom felt a familiar leap in his chest. This had to be Maggie Taylor’s son. ‘It’s a convoluted story, sir, but it appears when he was trying to escape – he keeps talking about crawling through a pipe – his mum told him to find a policeman and ask for Tom Douglas.’

‘Where is he? Where’s the boy now?’

‘I asked the gentleman and his wife if they would bring him here, sir. They were happy to help and should be here in about ten minutes. Will you be available to talk to them?’

‘I’m on my way down right now. I’ll be waiting for them. Thank you.’ Tom left the office and went via Becky’s desk. ‘I need you with me, but can you get one of your team to find out what Sonia Beecham’s mother was called, please.’

Becky looked slightly startled, but did as he asked and followed him towards the lift.