Next to Die (41 page)

Gina frowned. ‘I don’t know.’

‘That Ronnie didn’t want anyone to know that Carrie was still alive,’ Joe said, and banged the steering wheel with his hand. ‘Why would that be? If he was working with someone else, why does it matter if Carrie is alive or not? Sam thought that he might have murdered Carrie because she’d found out what he was doing, snatching teenagers, people linked to Ben Grant’s trial, and so he silenced her. But why would that bother her? She was Ben Grant’s most frequent visitor. There are rumours about her being involved with him. No, she wouldn’t feel revulsion.’ He frowned. ‘I think it’s something different.’

‘I’m sorry for being slow, Joe, but I haven’t caught up with you yet.’

Joe stayed silent for a few moments as he negotiated a roundabout, through the grime of the inner city, where new office blocks sheltered behind high railings, bright glimmers against the decaying redbrick and long grasses.

‘Remember the Moors Murders?’ Joe said, once they had rejoined the stutter of traffic lights. ‘Myra Hindley was the key to Ian Brady’s ability to snatch children. Everyone talked about how lovely she was, genuine, those suckers who campaigned for her release. And you notice how they were all men, drawn in by how beguiling she was. But weren’t those the qualities that persuaded those children to get in the van, to end up with Brady? Would they have got into a van with Ian Brady if he had been on his own? No, of course not.’

‘What, you think that Carrie was Ben Grant’s Myra?’

‘Doesn’t it make sense? Sam thinks there may have been an accomplice. Why not Carrie? Rumours of romance. Frequent visits. She’s the one who’s in charge here, because she misses it. The buzz, the thrill.’

Gina shook her head. ‘She was a woman, a mother. She wouldn’t do that.’

‘Myra Hindley did.’

‘Because she was under Ian Brady’s spell, his influence.’

‘And perhaps Carrie is still under Ben Grant’s. Hindley and Brady were separated by being in prison and eventually she was less under his influence. It broke the link. Carrie has never been separated from Grant, not truly. There were regular visits to prison. And what did Sam say about how the girls were taken? Through the internet, online grooming. Why can’t that be done by Carrie? Wouldn’t she know how to make young girls want more? Do you think Ronnie does?’

‘But why pretend to be dead if she’s working with Ronnie?’ Gina said. ‘Sam might be right. Ronnie might be the main person and has got a new accomplice. Perhaps Carrie was always just a friend to Grant and she found out more than she wanted? Has she disappeared to get away from Ronnie, because of what he is?’

Joe was silent as he considered that, except that every time he had a clear thought, images of Ruby flashed into his mind, what Ronnie might be doing to her. He shook his head. He couldn’t think of those things. He was going to find her. That was the only way he could think.

Joe went to his phone again. He scrolled through his dialled numbers, looking for one from the day before, his eyes flicking upwards all the time at the traffic. He found the number he wanted. He pressed dial and waited.

It was his client from the day before, from the meeting in the Acropolis.

‘Joe, you’re keen,’ he said. ‘When do you need the info? I’ve been asking around for you but no one has said anything yet, but I see these people now and again. You know how it is. No one clocks on, there’s no register.’

‘No, it’s not that,’ Joe said. ‘Same case, different query.’

‘Fire away. I still owe you.’

‘Where would you take someone near Piccadilly if you were going to harm them? Somewhere quiet, but near the railway lines?’

‘Hey, what is this? Are you recording this, Joe?’

‘No, I’m serious. It’s for something that is happening right now, and it’s urgent.’ There was silence, and so Joe added, ‘I don’t care what you’ve done in the past. I’m your lawyer. I just need to know.’

Joe lowered his phone so he could steer through some lights and change gear. When he put the handset back to his ear, his client said, ‘That’s easy, if you’re talking hypothetically.’

‘Pretend I am.’

‘Mayfield station.’

Joe was confused. ‘Mayfield station? I don’t know it.’

‘You will when you find it, because everyone who has ever caught a train from those outer platforms has seen it. Large abandoned train station. Not been used for sixty years, but it’s all still in there. The platforms, the ticket office, even the rails as you get near to the Piccadilly tracks. It’s like someone just closed the doors and walked away. And so people have been taken there. It’s quiet, it scares them, gets them to talk.’

‘Thank you,’ Joe said, and ended the call. He looked over to Gina. ‘Did you get that?’

‘I know where it is,’ Gina said, and pointed to the right. ‘Turn down there at the next lights and keep going.’

The lights were on green. They would change soon, and so he accelerated towards them, pulling hard on the wheel as he got through, the lights just going red. His tyres squealed, drawing a cheer from teenagers nearby, and then he scrolled through his contacts, trying to keep his eye on the road ahead at the same time, looking for Sam. He needed to let him know.

Joe hoped he was in time.

Sixty-Nine

Sam cursed as the two transport cops approached. He didn’t need this, not now. He looked at his watch. Fifteen minutes left. Their fingers were tucked into their equipment belts, like some cowboy cliché. There was a small man who walked quickly and a bigger one behind, his stomach pushing some of his white shirt out from underneath the belt.

Sam pulled out his identification. ‘It’s all right, I’m on the job,’ he said as they got closer. He needed to get rid of them.

‘Yes, we know,’ the smaller one said. His colleague stood behind him, all wide chest and scowl, head pushed back, making his jawline disappear into the fat of his neck. ‘The ticket collector you pushed out of the way told us that. What’s going on?’

Sam licked his lips and tried to think of a story he could spin. ‘I’m expecting a suspect to get off here very shortly,’ he said. ‘If you stand here with those uniforms on, he won’t.’

The two transport cops looked at each other. ‘Who’s the suspect?’

Sam shook his head. ‘I can’t tell you. It’s too sensitive.’ He faked an apologetic smile, but he could feel his tension giving him away.

‘But how do you know he’s going to get off here?’ the cop said. ‘And why is there only one of you if it’s such a big deal?’

‘Because we don’t know where he’s going,’ Sam said, his frustration getting the better of him. ‘We know he’s on the move, but if he comes into the city, he’ll probably get off here.’

‘And if he does?’

‘I follow him. That’s why I’m on my own.’

‘So why the rush back there?’ the cop said, pointing up the stairs.

Sam tried to stay calm. They were persistent. ‘Because he wasn’t going to let me through and a train was about to come in. What if I had missed him because of some ticket stamper? I have to alert people further along if I see him. Once we have sight of him, the reinforcements will arrive.’

‘Are these passengers safe?’

Sam nodded. ‘Absolutely.’

The two cops looked at each other, making small twitches with their mouths.

‘Okay,’ the smaller one said, spreading his feet for his final burst of authority. ‘Just let us know next time so we can help. And be nicer on the guards. They deserve better than that.’

‘Yes, I’m sorry,’ Sam said, letting them have their moment. He waited for them to go and then returned to the platform edge. He stared at the lights and the darkness, there in equal measure. Somewhere out there was Ruby, and somewhere out there must be whoever had her, watching him.

He closed his eyes. Memories of Ruby flooded in. That was what he was searching for, some good memory that would give him the strength for what he needed to do. It was hard for the thoughts of her to settle though, because it was all a swirl, the images of Ruby all mixed in with memories of his own life. His children, asleep in his arms. His wedding. Alice in the morning, all dozy, or wrapped up in winter, the tip of her nose turned red by the cold. It was Ruby he was looking for in his mind, but all he got was sadness. Even when she was born, there was always Ellie’s shadow, his parents’ joy tinged by the awareness that she lived because someone had died. What lay ahead? More heartache? It had been two years after Ellie had died, his parents in their forties. When Ellie died, it had been the first time he had seen his father cry. When Ruby was born, it had been the first time he had seen his father look truly scared. It wasn’t the responsibility, he knew that now. It was the fear that tragedy might visit them again.

That stress had killed him in the end. Sam understood that when his own children arrived. It sent his father to a stroke, his mother into a bottle.

Ruby. Little, awkward Ruby. Always too tall, a little quirky, but always a smiler. She was making life hard for herself, getting into scrapes and not trying enough at school, but Sam knew that she was just trying to get some attention from her mother. That was how teenagers worked. She would grow out of it. She might even make a success out of something, bring some new life into the world, like he had. His mark had been made by his two beautiful girls. Was it Ruby’s turn?

His phone rang. He looked at the handset. It was Alice. He closed his eyes. He had to be there for Alice, and Emily and Amy.

He looked back at the monitor showing the departure times. There was a train due in two minutes. He breathed out slowly. She could see him. Whoever she was, she would know what he did. He glanced down to his feet, just on the safe side of the yellow line painted along the platform. Three feet away, that was all. Just keep walking, as simple as that. He was the one she wanted, for the arrest of Ben Grant. It wasn’t about Ruby, so why would they kill her if he did as they asked? He thought he heard his daughters shouting for him. He tried to shake it away. He was saving someone. Sorry would never be enough, but they might understand one day.

There was the slightest rumble under his feet. Just a tremor. He looked to his left. He could see the headlights from the train beginning the sweep towards him. It was early and travelling fast. A tannoy pinged, and then there was the recorded voice, announcing that the train didn’t stop at the platform.

Sam stepped closer to the edge. Just a foot away now. The tracks were oil-blackened, trails of paper strewn across the sleepers. The noise got louder. He looked back towards the train. It was rocking from side to side on the rails. Five carriages. The engine wasn’t slowing down.

His stomach gave a violent churn. He thought of his daughters, how they would grow up without a father. Alice mourning. But they would know why he’d done it. Would that make them hate his memory more? How would Ruby cope with the guilt?

His eyes shot back to the tracks. They were vibrating, the large brackets holding them together starting to sing. The train was getting closer. The noise was too loud. He grimaced. The time was now. Soon it would be past him and Ruby would be gone.

His legs started to strain, wanting to make the leap, his body rocking, ready to go. He shouldn’t do it, he knew that, but one part of him said it was the right thing to do. Sam looked up, to his city. Red lights and streetlights and the soft speckles of stars over the orange glow of his hometown. Taking it all in for the last time. There was the sound of a horn. Someone shouting behind him. He looked down. His toes were over the platform edge.

Then he saw something below. Someone step from the shadows. A small glow.

He stepped back quickly as the train screeched past him, the clatter of the wheels deafening, the rush of the carriages blowing his hair.

He had seen someone. He knew it. And now he had to get to them before it was too late.

Seventy

Ruby sat upright at the clang of the metal door and the fast movement of feet. She had been rubbing the cloth that bound her wrists against the cast-iron base of the pillar. It had become slack so that she could pull her wrists away more. She stopped when she heard the movement. Ronnie had been quiet but something had changed. There was something about the speed of the footsteps that frightened her. She rubbed faster.

‘He didn’t jump,’ Carrie said as she burst from the stairwell. She sounded angry, her words echoing, and she was still pacing, backwards and forwards, short angry steps. ‘The coward watched that train go past. He knew what it would mean if he didn’t jump, and just watched it go by.’

The footsteps came closer to Ruby, quick and urgent, and then Ruby yelped as she was slapped across the face. She was still blindfolded so hadn’t seen it coming.

‘Hey, don’t do that,’ Ronnie said.

Ruby’s head sagged forward, blood on her lip, but she’d heard Ronnie. He had sided with her.

The coat slipped from her. The floor was cold against her legs. It must have exposed the bindings around her wrists because Carrie said, ‘You little bitch,’ and grabbed Ruby’s hair, making her yelp. ‘What have you been doing?’ She tugged at the cloth around Ruby’s wrists.

Ruby started to cry. ‘I’m sorry. I was uncomfortable. I’m not going to do anything. My arms were aching, that’s all. Don’t hurt me, please.’

Carrie turned away and barked at Ronnie, ‘Get some rope from the van.’

Ronnie didn’t answer. He just walked away, and as his footsteps disappeared, the woman got closer to Ruby and hissed in her ear, ‘You want to know what’s going to happen? I’ll tell you. Your big brother is going to kill himself, and I’m going to watch him do it, because if he doesn’t, I will kill you. And don’t think this is some kind of idle threat, because you are not the first.’

‘You can’t do that,’ Ruby said through her tears. ‘And what do you mean, I’m not the first?’

‘It’s not hard to work out, a clever little girl like you. The ground around here is full of people like you, silly little girls who thought life was just about fun, when you don’t understand the greatest thrill of all.’

‘But why? I don’t understand. You were once like me. Will I end up like you?’