Erika Foster 04 - Last Breath Page 23

  She gingerly pulled her leg towards her, and peeled off the tight support sock, wincing at the pain. There was a dark bruise across the ankle bone.

  ‘Shit,’ she said, lying back on her pillow. She would have to see the doctor, or if she couldn’t get an appointment at the surgery, she would have to get to A & E. She heard the sound of her housemates laughing downstairs, accompanied by the radio, and the water ran through the pipes behind her head in the bathroom. Sitting on the edge of the bed she practised putting her weight on the sprain, but even the smallest amount caused a shooting pain. It looked like her weekend job was out of the question too.

  She reached for her phone on the bedside table and waited whilst it switched on. She saw she had a voicemail, and pressed to listen. It was strange and muffled, with what sounded like the roar of an engine in the background.

  ‘Heather, it’s Beth…’ came her friend’s voice. ‘This man. He took me. When I was waiting for Robert… He took me from the street. Dark hair, short and fat, piggy eyes… I’m in his—’ There was a creak and the sound of traffic got louder. ‘I’m in the back of his—’ There was interference, and then just the noise of the engine.

  Heather sat on the edge of the bed for another two minutes, listening to the ambient sounds; traffic, a horn honking, but nothing more from her friend. She took the phone from her ear and saw on the screen that the missed call was at 8.51 p.m the day before. She put it back to her ear as the message finally clicked off, and a recorded voice asked if she wanted to ‘press 1’ to return the call.

  She did, but got a recorded message saying that Beth’s number was unavailable.

  CHAPTER SIXTY-SIX

  Just before nine a.m., Erika and Peterson were on the way to West End Central in Peterson’s car. They’d stayed at Erika’s flat in Forest Hill. Peterson was driving, and she lay back against the headrest, her eyes half closed. The snow had now all but melted, but it was cold and grey with a light drizzle.

  ‘You didn’t sleep?’ he asked, looking over at her.

  ‘Not much. Did you?’

  ‘I got a few hours, but you were tossing and turning.’

  ‘You should have said. I’d have moved to the sofa.’ A sign for a McDonald’s loomed ahead, and Erika checked her watch. ‘Can you stop at the drive-in? I need grease and coffee.’

  ‘That sounds good,’ he said, indicating and pulling in. They joined a queue of five cars, and then a van pulled in behind them. They’d placed their order and were inching toward the drive-thru window, when Erika’s phone rang. She scrabbled in her bag for it and saw it was Moss.

  ‘Boss, where are you?’ she said.

  ‘Camberwell, just grabbing some takeaway breakfast.’

  ‘We’ve had a call come through from a young girl called Heather Cochrane, a student. She says her friend, Beth Rose, was due to meet a bloke for a blind date last night near Southwark. She’s just woken up to find a message on her phone which indicates the friend was abducted and stashed in the boot of a car—’

  ‘Hang on, the friend phoned the girl?’

  ‘Yeah, Heather has a voicemail from Beth, actually saying that she was abducted by a funny little short guy, with dark hair… Crane is just on the phone with her; we’re asking more questions.’

  ‘Okay, we’ll be there asap,’ said Erika. She put the phone down and saw they were sandwiched in-between cars in front and the van behind.

  ‘You need to get us out of here, there’s been another girl abducted,’ she said.

  Peterson put the blue lights on, but no one moved. There were two cars behind the van and they were boxed in. He drove up on the small verge, managed to squeeze past the line of cars and they left the car park with a squeal of rubber and pulled out into the road with their siren blaring.

  * * *

  When they reached the incident room at West End Central, the officers from her team were starting to arrive, and Moss, Crane and John were huddled around a laptop.

  ‘Is Melanie in yet?’ asked Erika, as she and Peterson came into the incident room.

  ‘She’s got meetings this morning,’ said John.

  ‘Call her, get her in,’ said Erika.

  ‘Boss, we’ve just had the voicemail come in,’ said Moss.

  They moved over to join them at the laptop.

  ‘We need to get a location on that phone,’ asked Erika.

  ‘I’ve just put in an urgent request with telecoms,’ said Crane. Moss pressed ‘play’ as they listened to the message. There was a lot of background noise, and the girl’s voice sounded drunk and slurring.

  ‘Heather, it’s Beth… This man. He took me. When I was waiting for Robert… He took me from the street. Dark hair, short and fat, weird piggy eyes… I’m in his—’ There was interference. ‘I’m in his—’ More interference, and then just the noise of the car engine.

  Erika paced up and down as the audio continued playing. They heard cars approach and then pass, and a scratching as if something were pressed against the phone’s mouthpiece. The message finally cut out and the recorded voice kicked in.

  Erika’s team were silent for a moment.

  ‘Boss—’ started John.

  ‘I know. This could be our breakthrough,’ said Erika. ‘But we need to do this by the book. I want the phone location. I want you to pull CCTV from where she was due to meet this guy. We’ll need to contact her next of kin.’

  ‘Yes, boss.’

  ‘Now I want to hear that message again. There could be something in there which tells us where he was taking her.’

  CHAPTER SIXTY-SEVEN

  Darryl hung his head over the toilet and threw up for the third time. His guts burned, and he brought up nothing more than bile. He wiped his mouth and stood flushing the toilet, and looked at his reflection. His face was grey and he had huge bags under his eyes. He hadn’t slept; he kept having the same dream of discovering his brother, Joe, hanging in his wardrobe. He looked down at his boxer shorts, where the wet patch spread across the front. He pulled them down, balled them up and dropped them in the old clothes hamper by the bath. There was a knock at the door.

  ‘What?’

  ‘You alright?’ came his mother’s voice.

  ‘I’m fine…’ he said. ‘Just something I ate.’

  ‘What?’ came his mother’s voice.

  ‘Something I ate!’ he shouted. He went to the sink and splashed his face with cold water and looked out the window. A low mist was rolling over the fields towards the house, and the sky was an ominous grey. He turned off the water and realised he hadn’t heard the creak of the floorboards as his mother retreated.

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘I need to go shopping, but Morris’s car is blocking my way,’ she said.

  Darryl dried his face, put a towel round his waist and yanked the door open. His mother was standing in her ‘going to town’ outfit: a smart purple trouser suit and black patent leather court shoes. She had her white handbag over her arm.

  ‘They keys are in the ignition. Can’t you move it?’

  She peered at his face.

  ‘You know I can only drive my automatic. His car has gears.’

  ‘All cars have gears, Mother.’

  ‘You know what I mean. Now can you move it for me, please?’

  He went to his room and pulled on an old tracksuit, then came out to the carport. His mother was peering into Morris’s car, her handbag over her arm. When he came close, she was looking at a large smear of blood on the passenger doorhandle. She turned and regarded him.

  ‘You look ill.’

  ‘I’m not going into work today. Tummy upset.’

  ‘It’s Saturday,’ she said.

  ‘Oh yeah…’

  She looked at the smear of blood again.

  ‘One of the farm lads must have cut themselves,’ said Darryl, moving round to get into the driver’s side.

  ‘Which one? They have to come to me if they do, and fill in the accident book.’

  He ignored her and
got in. Mary moved to her car and unlocked it. He reversed Morris’s car and noticed his mother staring at him as she backed out in the large Jag, then pulled off with a spray of gravel. He put Morris’s car back, and looked at the blood. It was Bryony’s. He’d had her blood on his hand when he’d left last night. He took some tissues and scrubbed the smear of blood until it was gone.

  * * *

  When Darryl came back into the house, he stood in the boot room, shaking all over. Grendel padded over and licked his hand, and the house creaked around him. Familiar noises. He suddenly thought of the future: what if he didn’t live at the farm? If he got caught? What would happen? He tried to work out the best thing to do. If he went into work on Monday, it could be crawling with police, that’s if they’d found Bryony’s body. But as far as he knew, she lived alone. She wouldn’t officially have to be back at work until Monday, and then people might think she was sick. Her body might not be found for days. He just needed time, time to think. They didn’t have an ID on the car, and as far as he could tell no one had seen him; he wished he’d looked around when Bryony had got into the car. Was there an ATM? It would have a camera. Did all traffic lights have cameras on them? He’d used Morris’s car. He wished he’d worn gloves; his DNA would be in her house. He’d panicked…

  Then a flooding calm came over him. He and Bryony had been on a date together. This linked him to her, but that was over a week ago now. He could say that he went back to hers for a cup of coffee so, technically, his DNA would be there.

  He suddenly felt euphoric and light. He patted Grendel on the head and went upstairs to run himself a bath. Then he would have some breakfast and walk down to the Oast House to visit his new captive.

  CHAPTER SIXTY-EIGHT

  It was a few hours later. Melanie Hudson had now arrived, and she was working with Erika and her team in the incident room. The lights had been dimmed, and they were watching CCTV footage projected onto the whiteboards.

  ‘This is CCTV footage from inside the reception area of the large glass office block, the Purcell building on Latimer Street. It’s next to the casting studio where Beth had arranged to meet Robert Baker at 8.15 p.m. This CCTV footage from the reception desk inside the building is the closest footage to the abduction site that we’ve been able to find. There’s nothing on Latimer Street.’

  ‘I thought Beth was due to meet Robert Baker at eight?’ asked Erika.

  ‘Beth had texted her friend, Heather, to say she was running late because she couldn’t decide what to wear, and how to do her hair,’ said Crane.

  ‘Have we had any luck chasing up the real Robert Baker?’

  ‘He’s in Scotland visiting his brother. The casting studio is closed until the middle of February,’ said John.

  ‘Good, so we know for sure she wasn’t really meeting him,’ said Erika. ‘So we’re working on the timeline that she met our man at or just after 8.15 p.m.’

  The image showed the inside of the reception area, behind two security guards sitting at the front desk. In one corner was a bank of three lifts.

  ‘Here we are, at 8.09 p.m. last night,’ said Crane. ‘You can see that, as it’s dark outside, the interior is reflected in the glass, but the automatic doors are floodlit and you can see through them out onto the street. Beth also activated the automatic doors when she passed.’

  He froze on an image of Beth walking past as the doors opened. Erika looked at the faces of her team, bathed in the pale light from the projector. John put up another image beside it: this time is was Beth’s driving licence and her acting headshot.

  ‘So, everyone, we’re in agreement that this shows Beth Rose walking past?’ asked Erika.

  The team nodded.

  ‘I’m not happy about us just guessing,’ said Melanie.

  ‘Maybe a guess is all we have?’ said Erika, turning to her.

  ‘That’s not all we have,’ said Crane. ‘I emailed pictures of Beth over to the security desk when I requested the tapes. The two guys who were working on the front desk last night say they remember her, commenting on what a knockout she was.’

  ‘So sexism is working in our favour for once,’ quipped Moss.

  Melanie smiled and nodded. Crane went on: ‘We took a look at the footage from 7.30 p.m. through to 8.25 p.m., and the only cars which go past the front entrance are a lorry, a motorbike, two white vans and a blue car.’

  Erika’s heart sank. ‘No red Citroën?’

  ‘No, boss,’ said Crane.

  A look passed between Melanie and Erika. Murmurs went around the incident room.

  ‘Can we see the footage please?’ asked Melanie.

  ‘You bet,’ said Crane. He loaded up the footage and ran it at speed, slowing and going back as each vehicle passed the front entrance. ‘And finally, there’s the blue car; we think it’s an older Ford model…’ The footage carried on. Just before 8.15 p.m. on the timestamp, a woman with short grey hair and a long coat darted out of the lifts into the reception area. She zipped over to the front desk.

  ‘Hang on, slow it down,’ said Erika.

  Crane slowed the video to normal speed, and they watched as the woman went through the main doors and turned to the left, walking out of shot.

  ‘That woman,’ said Erika. ‘When she leaves she walks to the left, which would take her past the casting studios.’

  ‘At the same time when Beth was due to meet Robert Baker,’ said Peterson.

  ‘Crane. Get back in contact with the security team. Find out who she is. I want to talk to her,’ said Erika.

  CHAPTER SIXTY-NINE

  After Mary had gone shopping, Darryl took Grendel for a walk down to the Oast House. When he pulled back the large steel door, it took a moment for his eyes to adjust. He saw Grendel’s large flat nose move up and sniff the air near to the metal door housing the large furnace, and he slipped his finger under her thick leather collar. Using his free hand, he switched on the light and pulled the metal door shut. He opened the door to the furnace chamber, and it smelt rank. Beth was crouched in one corner of the large metal cage. Like the other girls, her neck was chained to one side of the cage, and her hands were bound with chains and fastened to the other. Darryl had also taped up her mouth.

  He let go of Grendel, and she padded over to the edge of the cage and sniffed at her. Beth’s eyes grew wide, and she tried to pull her head away from where she was chained to the bars. Grendel launched herself at the cage, barking and growling, flecks of spittle flying.

  Beth lurched from side to side, screaming under the gag, as the huge dog galloped round the cage, bashing into it, trying to get her teeth through the wire mesh.

  Darryl watched for a few minutes, smiling.

  ‘Okay, okay, shush girl,’ he said. He pulled out a knuckle of beef bone, and chucked it by the curved brick wall at the side of the furnace. She bounded after it and settled down on her haunches to chew.

  Darryl went up close to the cage, and smiled.

  ‘It’s okay. I won’t hurt you,’ he said softly. Tears poured down Beth’s face and she gave a muffled yell from under the tape. ‘I can take off the tape. Just promise not to yell.’ He crouched down beside her, still smiling. Beth looked at his teeth and shuddered. They were small and crooked, so small, almost like milk teeth. ‘Do you promise?’She nodded.

  ‘You need to put your face close to the bars,’ he said. ‘Or I can’t reach the tape… Come on, good girl… put your head back against the bars.’

  Beth was now trembling, and with one eye on Grendel chewing her bone in the corner, she sat back and turned her face up to him through the bars. Darryl pushed his fingers through and plucked at the tape, peeling it away from her mouth, rubbing his finger over her lips.

  ‘There. Now spit it out, go on,’ he said.

  Beth didn’t let her eyes leave him and spat out the bundled-up rag he’d shoved in her mouth. She swallowed and took several deep breaths. He took a bottle of water out of his pocket and removed the lid, pushing it through the bars.
<
br />   ‘This is water, look,’ he said, taking a sip and offering it back to her. She kept her eyes on him as she drank. ‘Goodness you are thirsty,’ he said, tipping the bottle up as she drank. ‘Just bear in mind, you’ll have to do your business in there. There’s a grate under the rug. You won’t drown.’ He stifled a girlish giggle, and Beth’s eyes widened and she stopped drinking. She swallowed and took some deep breaths.

  ‘Who are you?’ she croaked.

  Her eyes were so brown, so inquisitive, and her voice had a rich tone. Nice to listen to.

  ‘Just a guy. Joe Public.’

  ‘Is that your name, Joe?’

  ‘No. Joe was my brother’s name.’

  ‘Was?’

  ‘Yes, he died,’ said Darryl, matter-of-factly screwing the lid back on the plastic bottle. ‘Well, I killed him if we’re being frank… and that’s another name, Frank.’ He giggled again. ‘Why is it “Joe Public” and not “Frank Public”? Have you never heard of the phrase “Joe Public”? To describe the ordinary man on the street.’

  Beth shook her head, tears filling her eyes.

  ‘Well, that’s me. I’m an ordinary Joe. Ordinary, but with so much to give, and girls like you… Like YOU,’ he shouted angrily, jabbing a finger at her accusingly. ‘Bitches like YOU who are so shallow. You want looks and money and someone who you THINK is right for you. But how do you know I’m not right?’ Beth stared up at him, and even in her fear and horror could see the irony in what he was saying. Then it dawned on her that he really was crazy. ‘Bitches like YOU always give me this fucking snooty look. So fucking snooty!’ Darryl was getting really worked up now, spittle was flying from his mouth and he was slamming his hand down on the top of the cage.