The Doll's House: DI Helen Grace 3 (31 page)

‘Let’s think about what Jim Grieves said,’ Helen countered. ‘Trichloroethylene is used in cleaning agents, solvents but also boot polish. You could perhaps extract it from boot polish –’

‘Without ever drawing attention to yourself. No trail of any kind.’

‘But why does he starve them? If he loves these girls?’

DC Lucas’s question hung in the air for a moment, before Helen replied:

‘Why don’t we go and ask him?’

126

‘Hello Ruby.’

Ruby had crawled into the corner and stared up at her captor with ill-concealed fear.

‘Don’t be afraid. I’m not going to hurt you.’

Ruby kept her eyes riveted to him. The more he insisted he wasn’t going to hurt her, the more convinced she was that he would.

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.

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.