Stalkers (5 page)

Detective Superintendent Piper was now regarding him from the other side of the room. Locks of hair, which she tended to wear up during the day, had come loose and hung to either shoulder, making her look rather fetching. But she was pale in the cheek and her steel-blue eyes blazed.

‘Do you know we’ve been waiting nearly two hours?’ she said.

‘Er … no, I didn’t.’

‘What do you think you’re playing at, Heck?’ she demanded. Heck was six foot, but Superintendent Piper wasn’t a great deal shorter than him; even if she had been, her force of personality was colossal. She stalked the room in anger. ‘You think I want to spend my Sunday mornings sifting through your chaotic trash?’

‘My phone’s not working.’

‘Well get one that does!’

‘I will … if I can include it on my expenses.’

She arched an eyebrow. ‘You what?’

‘I’ve worn it out on this job, so if I have to buy another one …’

‘Are you deliberately winding me up?’

‘No, it’s just that …’

‘Because I’m not in the mood.’

‘I can see that.’

She jabbed a finger at him. ‘And don’t smart-mouth me either.’

‘An apology might be in order, Heck,’ Palliser said. ‘You
have
kept us waiting.’

‘I know, sorry. But I wasn’t expecting you.’

‘That’s plainly obvious,’ Superintendent Piper replied, gesturing at the piles of disorderly documentation stacked between the computer terminals, at the unwashed coffee mugs, at the overflowing in-trays. ‘Look at this place; it’s like a bomb site. And while we’re on the subject …’ She crossed the room and snatched the notice from the outside of the door. ‘What’s this supposed to be?’

Heck gave a wry smile. ‘Wouldn’t be a normal day without one of these appearing.’

‘You been rubbing people up the wrong way?’

‘I don’t get close enough to rub anyone up any way,’ he said. ‘Not anymore. I’m pretty sure it was one of this nick’s detectives who tipped off Bobby Ballamara that his daughter’s disappearance is being treated as part of a series. Don’t see how else he could have found out. He’s made my life hell ever since.’

‘Have you got proof of that?’ Palliser asked, looking shocked.

‘Course I haven’t.’

‘And in the meantime, what does this
mean
?’ Superintendent Piper asked, still brandishing the notice.

Heck shrugged. ‘You know what Division are like – they don’t think anyone works as hard as they do. According to them, I’m on a very cushy number here.’

‘Unfortunately, they’re not the only ones who think that.’ There was a brief silence. Superintendent Piper suddenly looked awkward, uncomfortable.

‘Oh,’ Heck replied. ‘So that’s how it is?’

‘You must’ve known something like this was coming,’ Palliser said.

‘Rumblings at the Yard, are there?’

‘Your comparative-case-analysis didn’t have the desired effect,’ Palliser explained.

Heck slumped into a chair, making no effort to disguise his irritation. ‘Three bloody weeks I worked on that.’

‘The effort was clearly there,’ Superintendent Piper said, sitting opposite. ‘But that’s all. Considering the time put in, the evidence is too thin. How long have you been on this case now?’

‘Two years, four months.’

‘And ground gained – zero.’

‘I need more men,’ he protested.

‘Well you’ve got one less from today.’

Heck sat up slowly. ‘How can I have one less than none?’

‘The one less is you, Heck,’ Palliser said.

Heck glanced from one to the other, finally fixing on Superintendent Piper. ‘You’re not shutting it down?’

‘It’s not my choice.’

‘Don’t tell me,’ he said. ‘Laycock. What a surprise.’

‘It’s a nothing case,’ she retorted. ‘You’ve admitted that yourself.’

‘In moments of frustration I may have admitted that.’

‘There seems to be more frustration than anything else.’

He stood up. ‘Look, what’s the problem? I’m working every hour God sends, but most of it’s for free. I haven’t made any unreasonable requests for overtime.’

‘The problem is you could be better used elsewhere,’ she said. ‘Crime doesn’t stop just because you’re involved in something you find more interesting.’

‘“Interesting”?’ Heck could hardly believe what she’d just said. ‘We’ve got thirty-eight missing women here! Surely it’s more than “interesting”?’

Superintendent Piper responded by rifling through a few files and print-outs, of which there were plenty strewn across the desk. ‘Where’s the evidence they’re connected? Where’s the pattern? Some of them are four hundred miles apart, for God’s sake! Sorry … I’ve trusted you on this for nearly two years, but that’s it. The trust’s run out.’

‘Look, ma’am …’

‘Don’t give me the usual blarney, Heck. You’re one of the best detectives I’ve got, but these hunches of yours are proving an expensive luxury. And look at the bloody state of you! For God’s sake, tidy yourself up!’

‘Don’t you even want to know why I’m in this state?’ he wondered.

‘No.’

‘I’ve been on an all-night surveillance operation. And guess what, I had to do it all myself because there’s no one else to help.’

Voices could now be heard out in the corridor; one of them had a distinct South London twang, distinguishing it as that of DCI Slackworth, who ran the CID office here at Deptford Green.

‘I’ve got one new lead in particular, which is looking really good,’ Heck added. ‘But I haven’t even had a chance to start following it yet.’

‘Put it all on paper,’ Superintendent Piper said, half-listening to the voice outside and looking again at the notice that had been pinned to her officer’s door. ‘Each case is being referred back to the divisional CID or mis-pers department that originally dealt with it. Your new stuff can go with them.’

‘
Thirty-eight
missing women, ma’am.’

‘You
think
,’ Palliser said.

‘But how can we just close it down?’ Heck asked. ‘We’re the Serial Crimes Unit, for Christ’s sake!’

Superintendent Piper stood up. ‘We’ll keep it under review. But at present we haven’t got the resources.’

‘How about if …’

‘I’m not arguing with you, Heck. I’ve actually done you a courtesy coming down here to tell you in person. I could’ve sent Des, I could’ve told you on the bloody phone. Just deal with it, alright.’

She marched to the door, pulling on her suit jacket.

‘You know, it’s a miracle anyone stays in this job,’ Heck said. ‘And I’ll tell you another miracle – that we ever catch anyone with some of the clowns we’ve got in charge.’

‘Watch it!’ She rounded on him fiercely. ‘Just watch it, Sergeant!’

‘I didn’t mean you …’

‘I don’t give a damn! I won’t have insubordination! Now your work here is done. So do us all a favour, get your paperwork in order and, following that, get your head in order. Then get your scruffy arse back to the Yard, pronto.’

And she was off, storming down the passage to catch up with DCI Slackworth – a burly, foursquare slaphead with flabby cheeks and pig-mean eyes – who was busy chatting up a pretty young female constable from the day-shift.

Heck watched her go, sourly.

‘Do you think anyone’ll mind if I light up in here?’ Palliser wondered, edging out of view of those in the corridor.

‘How should I know?’ Heck replied.

‘It’s
your
office.’

‘Not anymore.’

At the end of the corridor, Superintendent Piper was standing arms folded, yet still managing to wave the notice around, as she gave both barrels to Slackworth. The familiar whipcrack voice came echoing along the passage, and Slackworth, a tough-nut in front of his own crew, was soon shuffling awkwardly and looking abashed.

‘“The Lioness”,’ Heck said. ‘Talk about well named.’

‘She has a softer side.’ Palliser was now beside an open window, blowing smoke. ‘If anyone should know that, it’s you.’

‘That was a long time ago.’

‘She still cares about you though.’

‘Yeah, right.’

‘For one thing, she reckons you need some leave.’

‘What?’

‘You’re in a state, Heck. You haven’t had a break in two years.’

‘I haven’t been able to.’

‘Beside the point.’

‘No it isn’t.’ Heck indicated the empty desks and tables. ‘I used to have six officers working for me in here, Des. One by one, I’ve watched them get shunted to other duties. All I’ve had for the last nine weeks is an admin assistant, part-time.’

Palliser shrugged. ‘Understanding why you’re knackered isn’t really a solution to it. She’s the gaffer and she reckons that your judgment’s become impaired. You’re losing sight of the wood for the trees.’

‘So I’m a burn-out as well?’

‘Not far off.’

‘This is bollocks.’

‘No, she’s genuinely concerned.’

‘I mean this whole thing.’

‘Oh that, yeah. That’s definitely bollocks.’ Palliser suddenly glanced up at the ceiling, wondering belatedly if there was a smoke-detector present, and relaxing when he saw that there wasn’t. ‘You’re a DS, Heck, that’s all. Yet for two years you’ve been working under your own steam, authorising your own hours and resources. It was inevitable someone was going to whinge about it. It’s politics, typical office bullshit. But it’s not unimportant.’

‘Especially not when someone like Laycock’s involved, eh?’

While Superintendent Piper was head of the Serial Crimes Unit, her immediate supervisor, Commander Jim Laycock, was director of the National Crime Group and was, to all intents and purposes, God. Despite this, Heck had managed to bump heads with him on a number of occasions.

‘Laycock’s answerable to a higher power as well,’ Palliser said, as if this was some kind of consolation.

‘He’s a pencil-pushing suit.’

‘Which is all the more reason to fall in line for him. He has to balance the books somehow. Given the history you and him have got, it’s a wonder he’s let it drag on this long.’

Heck walked back to his desk, his head aching with frustration. He sat down heavily. ‘At the end of the day, all I’m concerned about is these missing women. I can crack this, Des. I know it. I can find them, or at least find out what happened to them.’

Palliser chucked his cig-butt from the window. ‘We’ve been through this already, mate. Wrap it up and get some rest. God knows, you need it.’

When Louise came round, she felt ghastly: headachey and sick to the pit of her stomach.

Initially the awful memory of her abduction eluded her. All she could do at first was puzzle about why she was slumped in a ratty old armchair that smelled of stale urine. But then, when she looked around and realised that she was in a small, windowless room and that the throbbing pain in her right bicep was the result of an injection, everything surged back – and with it, a wild panic.

She tried to leap to her feet, but was still groggy and immediately overbalanced, her shoeless feet sliding on the white linoleum floor. She fell heavily, landing alongside an open cardboard box, which, when she looked inside it, was stuffed to the brim with lingerie: pairs of lacy knickers, silk stockings, suspender belts. She recoiled from it the way she would if it had been full of snakes. Struggling to her knees, she backed away, only to collide with something else: a steel-framed clothes rack, which again was loaded with garments. In this case they were dresses, camisoles and skirts of various sizes and colours, though in all cases they were slinky, flimsy, transparent, the sort of things glamour models would wear. Again the tawdriness of it both revolted and terrified her – in no way could this be good.

Heart thumping, Louise tried to lurch back to her feet, but it wasn’t easy. She’d evidently been sedated for several hours, and now felt as if she was recovering from a fever; every quick or ill-timed move brought on a new flutter of dizziness. But there was one thing at least – whoever had put her here, they’d left her unbound. Tender weals were impressed into her wrists, but thankfully the plastic cuffs had been removed, and, small and stuffy as this room might be, it had to be an improvement on the claustrophobic confines of that car boot. She pivoted around, looking for any means of escape.

The room was lit by a single unshaded bulb and was no larger than a shop fitting-room, but it contained two doors, both made of varnished wood. Louise blundered to the first. It had a lever-handle, which she pushed down. The door opened, but on the other side of it there was only a narrow, white-tiled cubicle, containing a toilet, a wash-bowl and a shower. There was also a mirror, and fleetingly she caught her own reflection – it was so different from any previous mirror image of herself that she jumped backward with a shriek.

Only after a split second of disbelief did she come forward again.

Then she started to cry.

Her face looked like it had been made up for a stage-show of the macabre. Her eyes were red with weeping; her hair hung in rat-tails; what remained of her make-up was smeared and blotched grotesquely; beneath that, her normal healthy complexion had paled to an ashen, almost greenish hue. Even though she’d only been in captivity for a couple of days at the most, she already looked to have lost weight: her cheekbones were painfully prominent. She glanced down at herself and saw that what remained of her clothing was in a disgusting state: stained with engine oil and body fluids. The vile stench of urine was suddenly explainable.

The shock of all this was simply too much. Louise had tried to maintain her composure, tried to rationalise her way through this entire kidnapping ordeal rather than keep surrendering to panic, but surely she was insane to think that remaining calm would serve any purpose now? Good God, she’d been in these animals’ clutches no time at all, and she resembled a corpse already! Suppose they kept her for weeks, months, maybe longer?

There was no option. She had to escape from here, any way she could, whatever it cost her.

She backed into the main room again, turning frantically. She’d been correct in her first impression that there were no windows in here. She glanced up: the ceiling, which comprised bare wooden boards, was only about two feet above her head. She reached up and pressed it; it was unyielding. What she’d been expecting, she didn’t know – that it would lift like a lid? Ridiculous. But for some reason she pressed again, even harder, exerting all her strength, then overbalanced, almost fell.