Behind Closed Doors (40 page)

Caro said, ‘So you and Scarlett planned to help someone burgle the house?’

Juliette nodded.

‘And your mum and dad? What happened to them?’

Juliette wailed again, sudden and loud. ‘I don’t know, I don’t know!’

‘Did they know you’d been meeting up with Scarlett?’ Sam asked. ‘Did they know she was back in Briarstone, before we told them last week?’

‘No, they didn’t know. Scarlett made me promise not to tell that I’d seen her. But she’s gone, she’s gone. I don’t know what to do without her. I want Scarlett; I want her to come back!’

‘Where do you think she might have gone, Juliette? Please think.’

Juliette closed her eyes. ‘She gave me a letter.’

From her pocket Juliette brought out an envelope, folded and creased. Caro took it, unfolded it. On the envelope, a single word: JULIETTE
.
Caro passed the envelope over to Sam.

Sam’s phone was ringing. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I’ll be right back.’

As she walked away, she heard Juliette saying, ‘Can I go home? I want to go home.’

Sam ran out to the reception area before she answered. ‘Lou? Did you get my messages?’

‘Yes. We’ve got a live trace on that number, Sam. It’s in the town, near the shopping centre. That’s the best we can manage. I’ve got more people out there but no sightings so far. How’s Juliette?’

‘I’m going to leave her with Caro; can you send a patrol out to get them from the Travel Inn? Juliette just told us they planned the burglary, to get money to go away together, make a fresh start.’

‘And the attack on the parents?’

‘She doesn’t seem to think that was part of the plan. She seems pretty traumatised, though. I’m not sure she really knows what’s going on.’

‘I’ll get someone out straight away, don’t worry. Reggie Stark’s on his way into custody. They’re doing a search now. I just heard they’ve got a pair of trainers from the wheelie bin outside.’

Despite the pressure, Sam managed a smile at the thought of this. One of the Tac Team was going to earn an anecdote and several pints out of that one.

‘And the baseball bat was under the bed. Looks as if it’s been very badly washed.’

She was crying now, but tears didn’t help. She had learned that a long time ago, but for some reason she couldn’t stop them.

This was foolish; this was just wasting time. It wasn’t as if Sam wanted any more to do with her. She’d made that clear, crystal clear, last night.

Below, far below, Scarlett could hear sirens. It felt as if she was running out of time. She saw the flashing blue lights of the police car, giant black letters on its roof, chasing past the building. Nobody had seen her. Nobody knew she was here. She was invisible, half-dead already, disappearing. She had been disappearing since the minute the Dutchwoman had given her this coat.

Just a little shift forward, and she would fall.

‘Bye, Sam,’ Scarlett whispered into the wind. ‘Bye, Jul.’

05/11/2013, 09:54

Dispatch Log 1105-0175

Sam was heading for the bus station – because after all it was worth a try – when she heard the exchange coming over the Airwaves unit in the car.

‘All units, person in crisis, roof of bus station car park…’

By the time Sam made it there, there was already a patrol car parked at an angle across the access road, and a PC winding scene tape around a lamp-post to stop people getting too close. Sam stopped as close as she could without causing an obstruction, got out of the car and sprinted across to the officer.

‘Sorry, you can’t get any closer…’

‘DS Sam Hollands,’ Sam puffed. ‘I think I know who that is, up there. Please, I need to get to talk to her…’

‘I don’t want to worry you,’ the man said. ‘I’ve just come up here to talk to you for a bit, is that okay?’

Scarlett didn’t answer. She could not acknowledge him, this man who’d turned up, was standing a few metres behind her, to her right. He couldn’t stop her, couldn’t do anything. There was no point in him being there, so there was no point in acknowledging that he was real.

‘My name’s Mick,’ he said. ‘I’m with the police. Can you tell me your name?’

Police – of course he was police. It wouldn’t be some random passer-by, would it, on the roof of the car park?

If he was police, then Sam would know she was here.

‘I’d really like it if you could just come down off the wall. Do you think you could do that? Just for a moment or two, while we have a talk?’

The wind was getting stronger. It was cold up here and her cheeks were already numb with it, her teeth chattering a staccato rhythm in her head. All of this would be done; all of it would be over. No more cold, no more nightmares, no more waking up with a jolt because you’d forgotten where you were and who you were with – bracing yourself against an impact because that was all you’d come to expect.

‘Can you just tell me your name? Just to let me know you can hear me, because for all I know I’m talking to myself right now, eh? Can you just say something, to let me know you can hear me?’

Out of the corner of her eye she could see him, the shape of him, although turning her head to look properly felt like way too much effort. No, she wouldn’t tell him her name. He’d find out soon enough. She didn’t even know what to call herself any more… Stella, Katie, Scarlett. Were any of those people even her? If she didn’t have a name of her own, did she even exist?

They had set up a rendezvous point at the foot of the ramp leading up to the car park roof, just out of sight of Scarlett and the trained negotiator, who Sam learned was called Mick Lister. The RVP location comprised two men standing around, at the moment, but there was an air of organisation hanging over it which Sam found instantly reassuring.

As she approached with a uniformed officer by her side, one of the men looked up. ‘You’re DS Hollands?’ he asked, holding out his hand for her to shake.

‘Yes.’

‘DS John Ryman – I’m co-ordinating. This is Pete Watson – he’s recording. Have you been in a situation like this before?’

‘No.’

‘Okay. We need to do a very quick briefing. I understand you know the person we have sitting on the wall out there?’

‘I haven’t seen her yet… but I’m missing a witness, and I met her here once before.’

‘Right. Then I need you to come with me, quiet as you can; we’ll just go to the other side of the ramp so you can get a visual and hopefully you’ll be able to confirm identity, okay?’

They walked a little way up the ramp until Sam could see across the empty car park, across the puddles and the marked spaces, to the concrete wall on the far side. She could see a shape huddled into an oversized khaki jacket, short dark hair. It was definitely Scarlett, her back to the ramp, hands on the concrete wall by her sides as if any second she was going to lever herself off the edge. Just behind her, to her right, was a man, standing with his feet comfortably apart; and behind him, the only one glancing back towards the ramp, was a third figure, another man.

Sam turned to John Ryman and nodded. In turn he raised a hand to the man on the roof, who took a step forward to his colleague, said something and then headed back towards the ramp.

‘That’s your witness?’ Ryman asked, when the second man had joined them.

‘Yes, her name is Scarlett Rainsford. Her parents were attacked last night: her father is dead and her mother is seriously injured. Her sister is with my colleague back at the Travel Inn. It’s possible they had something to do with the attack.’

‘All right. Just take a moment, yeah?’

What?
Sam looked at him in surprise and realised then that she was shaking.
Pull yourself together, Sam.
‘I’m fine. Just so cold up here, isn’t it?’

Ryman said, ‘DS Sam Hollands, this is Richard; he’s acting as number two for Mick Lister, who’s out there talking to your Scarlett. He’s the one who is going to pass on communications between us and Mick. Sam, does Scarlett know you? How’s she likely to react to you being here?’

‘We’ve become… I don’t know… friends, I guess. I don’t know how she’ll react, though. She sent me some text messages this morning and I never had a chance to reply.’

‘What did they say?’

Shit
, Sam thought. ‘Oh, just that she couldn’t sleep, she was worrying about everything… she said – oh, God – she said she thought she would have been better off staying dead…’

‘Take your time,’ Ryman said gently. ‘She’s not moved yet; we’re doing okay at the moment. Anything happening, Richard?’

‘She’s not said a word so far. Not a word.’

‘Wait,’ Sam said. ‘Scarlett left these letters, for me and for her sister – I haven’t had a chance to look at them yet.’ She pulled the two crumpled envelopes out of her back pocket.

Ryman looked at her. ‘You’d better have a look,’ he said. ‘Richard, can you let Mick know what we’ve got? We can see if there’s anything here that’s useful before we continue the briefing.’

Richard jogged back up the ramp towards his colleague.

‘It’s so cold,’ Sam said. ‘How can she bear to sit there like that? It’s freezing. Can I not just go and talk to her? She might listen to me.’

John Ryman put a hand on Sam’s upper arm. ‘We might consider using you as a third-party intermediary at some point, but for the time being you can help us a lot more by telling us everything you can about Scarlett. We need a reason for her to come back down. You’d better read those letters.’

‘Scarlett?’ the man said. ‘That’s your name, isn’t it? Scarlett?’

She had been drifting off for a moment, as she had done throughout her life when things got too difficult. Whereas once she had dreamed of Mark Braddock, or of Nico, later she’d dreamed of getting a good night’s sleep in a clean bed, clean clothes, being able to walk on a beach, being able to eat something she’d cooked herself, even just home and a normal life, whatever such a thing was.

‘Scarlett? I can see you’re getting cold there – you’re shivering a bit. Do you want me to see if I can find you a blanket? Or a hot drink, a coffee maybe? Just while you decide what you want to do…’

She opened her eyes for a moment and saw the expanse of grey concrete below. Why were there no buses? She hadn’t seen one for a while, and yet at this time of day there should be plenty of them. There was nothing: no traffic, no people below. It was as if the world had fallen silent.

Please just piss off.
 

She wanted to say it out loud, but speaking to the man was like the first step in admitting that he was going to win. While he went unacknowledged she still felt in control; all she had to do was lean forward, push off the wall with her cold, numb fingers, and she would fly for a second and then everything would be peaceful.

‘I know you’ve had a really bad few days, Scarlett. I know you must feel as though this is the only way you’re going to get out of it. But I can tell you for definite that it’s not the only way. It’s not even the best way.’

How did he know? How did he know what had happened to her? He must have been talking to someone…