Evil Valley (18 page)

Claire jumped as she nearly walked into a cleaner crouching beside one of the swing doors, emptying a bin. She mumbled an apology and told herself to get her mind back on the case.

Two hours now Nicola had been missing. Charles Cross was the emptiest she’d ever seen it, none of the usual banter in the corridors, babble from the offices or continual hum of the lift. Everyone was out looking for her. Everyone doing the best they could, but always with that unspoken fear. Who would find the corpse? That was the merciless truth of the statistics. If you don’t find the child quickly, you don’t find them alive.

What about her case? Was this computer idea really worth following up, or was she chasing a whim? The trouble was, the computer at the house of the first shooting in Bodmin had gone, been given to some charity shop, untraceable, a new one bought. Was that important? It hadn’t been checked at the time because back then there were no grounds for suspicion. It was only after the Saltash shooting the High Honchos got worried. The computer there had been checked, but nothing found. And Crouch’s own computer was clean too, not a hint of anything amiss. Still, it was a potential lead and they weren’t exactly overwhelmed with them. It had to be worth a try.

Just how much did Crouch know about computers, anyway? He must be competent with them to have one. It was something they’d have to put to him in the next interview, whenever that might be. The Police Federation, the officers’ union, were weighing in on his side now, so they’d have to take it gently. There had even been talk of victimisation of an officer for simply doing his job, discussion too of some officers refusing to carry guns if the inquiry went on.

It had happened before, in London, over an investigation into two firearms officers. She’d seen the looks she’d got from a couple of colleagues, the way some glanced over when she was in the canteen. Whiting was certainly right about one thing. This inquiry could make you unpopular.

Still, she would do her job. She was pleased with the online personality she’d created, if a little surprised – perhaps even shocked? – at how easily it had come.

“Please help me! Please!” Claire had typed.

“I wasn’t sure whether I should give you my name, but I’m so desperate, I just don’t care. I’m Zoë, I’m 29, and a teaching assistant. I’ve been married to Phil for the last five years, and to start with it was all perfect. But now … well, it’s hell. I can’t think of any other word to describe it.

“I’m sorry if I pour all this out, but no one else knows and it seems to be helping, just getting if off my mind and out in the open.

“It was all so beautiful at the start, just perfect. The wedding was a dream, in a lovely little Cornish church. It was such a happy day, all our family and friends looking on, all a blaze of beaming smiles. We bought a house in Liskeard, not a huge place but plenty enough for us, a friendly modern estate on the edge of the town. It was just … well, idyllic, all that I’d imagined in a marriage. We were happy, so happy. But now…

“It started to go wrong when Phil lost his job. The call-centre in Plymouth closed. The business was being moved to India, the wages are much cheaper there. He looked for other work, but nothing was so well paid, the only possibilities dirty, hard physical labour. He tried it for a while, but couldn’t keep up with the stronger men. A couple of glasses of wine in the evening became a bottle, then another, then a few bottles. I guess it was his way of coping. He’d go quiet, become withdrawn, then turn on me. At first it was shouting and screaming, and that was bad enough. But then one night – one terrible night – he slapped me.

“I remember that moment so well. Afterwards, he stood still, staring at his hand as if it was a stranger’s, not a part of him. He looked at me, head bowed, sobbing and burst into tears. We hugged and cuddled and made up. But the next night it happened again, and the next, and this time it was a punch.”

Claire paused, leaned back from her computer, let out a low whistle. She didn’t want to think about where the words were coming from. She got up, made herself a strong coffee, continued typing.

“It’s been going on for months now. You know what? I can’t say how many exactly. The days just pass in a haze of misery. And it’s got worse – if that was possible. He’s become cunning. He hits me in the body and legs where the cuts and bruises won’t show.

“I’ve tried everything to get through, talk to him, try to get him to counselling, but nothing’s worked. He’s become impenetrable. He sits silently, drinks the red wine, then attacks.

“I wasn’t going to say this, but I will. I’m losing hope. I haven’t told anyone, not family, not friends. You’re the first to know. I’ve … I’ve thought about suicide – in fact, I’ve already started collecting packets of tablets from the supermarket. They’re hidden away in the cupboard under the kitchen sink, along with the cheap bottle of whisky. Some days it seems the only way out. I open the cupboard door and stare at the pills and the lovely glow of the whisky. Sometimes I imagine what it would be like just to swallow and drift away, never to have to come back to this hell.

“Then I saw a poster on the supermarket notice board. It advertised a support group, but said anyone who couldn’t come along could always make contact online, so I looked up Domestic Violence on the net. You know what? Finding out how many other women were also suffering was a shock, but it gave me strength too. For once, I felt I wasn’t alone.

“I’ve got to go now, he’ll be home in a minute. So … can anyone help? Please! You might just save my life.”

Claire noticed her hands were shaking as she finished typing. She had to go for a long walk over the cliffs around the Hoe to calm herself. But, even then, Zoë was with her still.

This evening she would see whether she’d got any replies. She still wasn’t quite sure what she was doing, just that she was following a hunch. For now though, there were far more urgent matters. She climbed into the car, Suzanne started the engine and they drove fast out of Charles Cross, past the ruined church and towards Peverell.

A cold drizzle had begun drifting from the darkening sky. It made Dan’s ankle throb with a renewed ache and he trod carefully on the slippery paving slabs. He exchanged glances with Nigel. Neither of them liked working in the rain.

‘Have we got enough pictures?’

Nigel nodded. ‘Plenty for lunch. I’ll do some more if we need them, but it’ll just be the same stuff, cops wandering around talking to people.’

‘I’ll start editing then. You stand by and keep an eye out for any more action.’

He slid into the OB van alongside Loud. The engineer had changed into a plain navy shirt. Dan had to look twice to make sure it was him. ‘Just in case the kid turns up dead,’ Loud explained. ‘How touchingly considerate,’ Dan thought, but didn’t say.

He began the report with the picture of Nicola, the most important part of the story, talking about her being on the way to school that morning when she was abducted. Then they edited in the shots of policemen knocking on doors, talking to local people, while Dan spoke of all available officers being scrambled to join the hunt, the police helicopter brought in too. They used a couple of bits of interview of people talking about their shock, then finished with the descriptions of Nicola, Gibson and the car. They didn’t edit any pictures over that part, the graphics would be dropped in when they sent the story back to the studios.

Adam arrived at 1.20. ‘Any news?’ Dan asked.

‘Not a bloody thing. No sightings at all.’

‘Any guesses?’

‘None. He could be anywhere. He had an hour’s head start on us, at least. That’s time enough for him to be 70 miles away if he hit the motorway. It’s clear he had some plan, so I’m sure he’s not just running. He’s up to something, but what it is I don’t know.’

‘Nicola’s probably safe though, isn’t she?’ said Dan, without much belief. ‘He said he didn’t want to hurt anyone.’

Adam shook his head. ‘I hope you’re right, mate, I really do. But remember we’re dealing with a madman here. He could do anything.’

Dan eased himself gently down from the van, protecting his ankle. He slipped into his ear the moulded plastic tube that would link him to the studio. Nigel has set up the camera facing the mobile incident vans. The drizzle was still drifting steadily down.

‘What do you want to say in the interview?’ Dan asked.

‘I don’t want to go into anything about Gibson. If he sees it, it might panic him. We’ll leave that for now. I just want to appeal for public help really, that’s the important thing. I’ve got a favour to ask too, but we can talk about that after the broadcast.’

Something in Adam’s voice sounded ominous, but Dan didn’t have time to ask.

‘Fine. OK, stand by,’ he said. ‘There’ll be a studio link, then I’ll pick up and set the scene. Then my report will play. It’s a minute and a half and features the picture of Nicola and the descriptions you gave us. Then I’ll interview you.’

Adam straightened his tie and checked his reflection in a car window. ‘Sure.’

The opening titles of the lunchtime news rumbled in Dan’s ear.

‘A major police hunt is under way this lunchtime,’ said Craig, sounding more animated than his usual relaxed self, ‘after an eight-year-old girl was abducted in Plymouth. Hundreds of officers are scouring the city for signs of Nicola Reece, but so far nothing has been found. Our Crime Correspondent Dan Groves can tell us more …’

‘Craig, I’m in the Peverell area of the city where the hunt for Nicola is being coordinated,’ Dan picked up, gesturing to the police vans behind him. ‘And the police are asking for urgent public help in finding her. They say every passing second could be vital.’

His report played. ‘With me now is Detective Chief Inspector Adam Breen who’s leading the hunt for Nicola,’ he said. ‘Mr Breen, how can the public help you?’

‘We need their eyes,’ began Adam, and Dan could tell he’d been rehearsing his sound bites. Short, sharp and memorable, straight from the ‘How to be on TV’ handbook.

‘I’ve got all the police officers I can searching for Nicola, but they’re just a tiny fraction of the number of people out there who can be looking for her too. I would appeal to people – you’ve seen the picture of Nicola and heard the description of the man and his car. Please, please, look out for them and if you see anything, contact us immediately. This is very much a team effort. We all need to work together to get Nicola home safely.’

They got an all clear from the studio and Dan popped out his earpiece.

‘Very good, that worked fine. So … what was it you wanted my help with?’

‘Between us,’ replied Adam, ‘I’m guessing he’s gone to ground somewhere with Nicola. It’ll be a place he’s prepared beforehand, which’ll make it very difficult to find. He’s probably got food and water there, so he doesn’t have to venture out. I’m guessing he might have a TV, but I’m sure he’ll have a radio at least. He’ll want to be able to check on the media coverage to see his plan is working.’

‘So? What are you thinking?’

‘I think the best hope of finding him might be in those letters he sent you. He says it’s all in there in some form of code, so we’ve got to take that seriously. It seems to fit with the game he’s playing. I’ve got some code-breaking experts from SOCA, the Serious and Organised Crime Agency on their way. They’ve already had a look at some copies we’ve sent. They say it’s nothing obvious and they could do with some more clues. Bearing in mind what Gibson said about us being up against the clock, I don’t think we’ve got long to find Nicola, so I want to try something straight away. I’d like to release the fact that the letters were addressed to you.’

‘That’d mean that all the media would want to talk to me,’ said Dan thoughtfully. ‘I’d become part of the story.’

‘Exactly. And I’d want you to say that you’d tried to crack his codes but couldn’t, and could you have another clue? It seems the only way to reach him and perhaps get us a break.’

Smart, thought Dan, very smart. But how will Lizzie feel about it? How can she say no if there’s a chance it’ll help find Nicola? More to the point with Lizzie, how can she refuse if it makes Wessex Tonight feature in the story? It’ll be all over the national papers, great publicity for the programme and bound to lift the ratings.

‘I’ll have to check with my editor. But I think I can persuade her. She’ll see it as a hell of an angle.’

‘Good,’ said Adam. ‘One more thing, though. I’ve got something else to tell you, so you’re clear what you’re getting into. I wasn’t sure whether to, but I don’t want there to be any doubt about this. It’s only fair. But strictly not for broadcast, OK?’

‘OK,’ answered Dan, wondering what he was about to hear. Adam’s face was set and his voice sombre.

‘Firstly, I’ve got a psychologist’s report on Gibson. I won’t go into detail, but basically it says he’s … err … very bad news.’

Dan tried to hide a gulp. ‘OK. I think I kind of suspected that.’

‘Secondly …’ Adam paused, seemed to be struggling for the words. ‘Well, I think he’s even more devious and dangerous than the psychologist reckons. We’ve managed to get some information from Nicola’s mum. She’s in a terrible state, but she did tell us she knows Gibson. More than knows, in fact. She thought he fancied her and wanted to have a relationship. They’ve been out together lots of times, her, him and get this – Nicola too.’

Adam hesitated again, studied his impeccably polished brogues. ‘Well … apparently Gibson wanted it that way. He used to tell Nicola’s mum that if it was going to work between them he wanted to make sure he could bond with Nicola as well so he could look after them both. The girl loved him and wouldn’t have hesitated to get into a car with him. And given his past, the things he’s seen in Bosnia and the effect it had on him, the intricacy and detail of his plan, the time he’s spent working on it and the fact that he’s got a gun and knows how to use it …’

Adam let the words linger. ‘Well, I don’t think I need to say anything else.’

Dan drew in a breath and scratched his ear. ‘Hell,’ he said quietly.

‘Quite,’ Adam replied. ‘Now you know exactly what we’re dealing with. We’ve got to get him and fast. There’s no telling what he might do. Nicola’s mum is going to do a press conference this afternoon. She’s still in a dreadful way, but she’ll manage to read a statement at the very least.’