The Taken Girls

7

Lucy was awake. It was pitch black. She’d woken in an instant. One moment nothing existed, not even a dream. The next she was suffocating.

The darkness pressed on her body from all sides. There was no sound. Silence enveloped her like a coffin. Without light there was nothing beyond her skin. She felt trapped, suspended in heavy oil. There was no air and she knew she was close to death. She wanted to scream but fought against the impulse which would expel life’s last breath from her body.

Tightly wrapped by the duvet, she threw it from her with a sweep of her right arm. Now it was her clothes that held her prisoner, preventing her from living. She was contained by an oppressive presence composed of all that surrounded her. She wanted to tear the clothes from her body, desperate to step into the night and feel cold air against her skin, to open her mouth and draw fresh life-giving air into her lungs, but she was held fast by the handcuff and chain. Unable to move, feeling that she would die if she remained within her body, she lay rigid on the bed and struggled to escape her physical being, to retreat within herself, to live within her mind, to create space and light. Only in her imagination could she wander in cool shade, turning her nose and mouth to the salvation of a sea breeze.

She held that thought, held her body in conjured liberty until she could briefly observe her plight. Slowly her rational mind reasserted itself. She was breathing freely but the air felt no cooler than her body. She was contained in an unyielding presence but her ribs were expanding and contracting with each breath. She held fast to the space and freedom she’d created within her head. Imperceptibly the panic subsided and she slipped back to the non-existence of a dreamless sleep. As she slept the panic dissipated, disappearing as night terrors disappear with the rising sun.

It was Saturday morning when he returned to the building and found Lucy still asleep. He checked her breathing and her pulse; both were fine. The effects of the drug should have worn off by now. Typical teenager; no wonder so many could be seen rushing to school at the last minute. With the paraffin heater, it wasn’t cold in the room but he covered her with the duvet, which must have slipped off during the night, and checked the handcuffs and chain. Satisfied all was as it should be, he left the room, methodically locking the door behind him.

Today he hoped she’d be ready to talk and they could at least draw up a shopping list. He was content to let her sleep while he ran over his plan. He knew that if he were to buy too many things for a teenage girl in one shop it could raise suspicion. To avoid that he’d plotted a long drive with stops at several towns. He was determined to escape detection.

There was still no sign of Lucy waking so he unlocked his private room and left the door ajar while he inspected his collection. First things first, he completed the label for last night’s rehousing and replaced the jar. Running his eye along the shelf he noticed the preservative in Nos. 4 to 6 was looking cloudy. Just then, there were sounds from the other side of the chain-link partition. He made a mental note to change the cloudy formalin at his next opportunity.

Before going to the waking Lucy, he slipped the Mr Punch reed into his mouth and pulled the hood down over his face.

8

Ed entered the Station at 07.55. At first Sergeant Williams treated her to the same nonsense as the previous day, addressing her as DS Ogborne and asking her to wait in Interview Room 2, but three minutes later she was knocking at Superintendent Addler’s door.

It was a spacious corner office with a conference table to Ed’s right and Addler to her left behind a large desk at an angle across the corner windows. The Super looked up and indicated a visitor’s chair three feet from her desk.

‘DS Ogborne, Chief Superintendent Karen Addler as I’m sure you’re aware. In better circumstances I would have said welcome to Canterbury CID but your arrival has not been received as good news. Frankly it’s created problems for me and resentment among the staff.’

‘I’m sorry my arrival has led to difficulties but the transfer was totally out of my control.’

‘That’s as may be, Ogborne, but I, and you, must face the facts of the situation.’

‘Yes, Ma’am.’

‘My duty is to run a smooth, efficient ship. At the moment the waters are extremely choppy. I can manage the problem but only you can cure it.’

‘Yes, Ma’am.’

‘I’ll give you six months to get your team behind you and to be accepted by the staff as a whole. If that hasn’t happened by December I’ll push strongly for you to be moved on. Understood?’

‘Yes, Ma’am.’

‘Good. This is the position. DS Saunders leads our CID team. He was about to be promoted to DI when I heard from the Chief Constable that Saunders would have to move to Maidstone because a young DS from the Met was being transferred to the DI post in my Division. I think Saunders has been badly treated and so do my staff.’

Addler reached for a fat fountain pen, checked the cap was in place and returned it to the pen tray on her desk before redirecting her gaze to Ed’s face.

‘It would be surprising if you didn’t meet some hostility. It will be your task to overcome it. I hear you impressed people at the Met. I hope you can do the same here.’

‘I appreciate your frankness, Ma’am, and assure you that I shall do all I can to resolve the situation you say my arrival has caused,’ Ed said.

‘I don’t just say it, Ogborne, the situation I’ve described is exactly what your transfer has caused.’

‘Yes, Ma’am.’

‘So be it. Come, I’ll introduce you to the CID team.’

‘Just before we do that, Ma’am, may I ask a question?’

‘Go ahead.’

‘My understanding is that my transfer here was linked with promotion from Detective Sergeant to Detective Inspector.’

‘That’s correct.’

‘But you and Sergeant Williams have consistently addressed me as DS Ogborne.’

‘Correct. Until I receive official notification of your new rank, your status here is that of Detective Sergeant. You’ll work under DI Saunders’s direction until he moves to Maidstone.’

‘DI Saunders?’

‘His promotion came through a few days ago.’

With that, Addler swept Ed out of her office and down the corridor. As they passed the desk, Ed thought she caught sight of a smirk on Williams’s face. Clearly everybody in the Station was aware how the Super had decided to play this one. Stay cool, Ed, she reminded herself.

In the Incident Room, Addler’s commanding ‘Good morning’ was met by overlapping responses of ‘Good morning, Ma’am’ from three of the four detectives sitting round the table. The response of the fourth lagged slightly behind those of his colleagues as if caught by surprise that speech was required.

‘Ah … erm … good morning, Ma’am.’ He was a tired-looking man in his early forties with thinning hair and something more than the first signs of a paunch.

He was still speaking when Addler pointed in his direction and said, ‘DS Potts’ followed by ‘DC Eastham, DC Borrowdale, and, of course, DI Saunders.’ After a brief pause, she added, ‘And, as you all know, this is DS Ogborne, duly arrived from the Met. I’ll leave you to bring her up to speed with the missing girl.’ Addler’s parting shot, ‘Let’s get this one cleared up quickly’, was delivered as she turned and left the room.

Saunders looked down the table from his position at the far end and said, ‘The four of us have been here since six. We’ll get some coffee and then go over what we know.’

No smiles, no welcome and no further introductions as they trooped silently en masse down the corridor to the coffee machine. Were they all feeling as uncomfortable with her as she was with them?

Back at the Incident Room, DI Saunders said, ‘Bring your coffee to the table and we’ll get the introductions out of the way.’

Ed sat next to DS Potts, facing Saunders. The DI looked about the same age as Potts but he had no sign of a paunch and his hair had not receded an inch. Ed thought that of the two, in a tight situation, she’d rather have DI Saunders watching her back. At that moment, he cleared his throat and, looking a little uneasy, took charge of the meeting.

‘You’ve heard our names from the Super. Now I’ll introduce you properly to the team.’ He inclined his head towards the sharp dark-haired young man to his left who could have come straight from a barrow in Petticoat Lane. ‘DC Borrowdale. Nat is quick to react and faster on his feet than any of us.’ The DI’s gaze moved to the young woman on his right whose honey-blonde-framed face reminded Ed of a sunny soot-grimed one standing beside an ambulance in the Blitz. ‘DC Eastham. Jenny joined us earlier this year and her memory is proving better than the rest of ours put together.’ Saunders looked across the table at the older man slumped in the chair beside Ed. ‘And DS Michael Potts, born and raised in Canterbury; Mike knows the place and the people like the back of his hand.’

As they were introduced, Borrowdale and Eastham merely nodded in Ed’s direction while Potts managed a grunt. Saunders, if he were aware of the frosty reception, chose to ignore it.

‘I’m DI Brian Saunders, recently promoted and soon moving to the county town, Maidstone. And you are DS Ogborne, Edina Ogborne, recently of the Met.’

Ed cringed. ‘Edina was my grandmother’s name. I prefer Ed, even if it can cause problems for people who don’t know I’m a woman.’

Saunders acknowledged her preference with a nod.

‘You’ve met the Super. As for Canterbury, we’ll arrange a guided tour this evening. Right, let’s press on with the missing girl. Jenny, fill us in on where we’re at.’

The DC didn’t respond immediately so Ed took the opportunity to speak.

‘I know my arrival must have been a surprise, totally unexpected, but that went for me too. I was told nothing of the situation here. Had I known—’

‘I’m aware of that.’ Saunders cut across her and barely paused before adding, ‘So, what have we got, Jenny?’

Feeling firmly put in her place, Ed shifted her attention to the young DC.

Jenny put down her coffee cup and delivered her summary without once looking at her notes.

‘Lucy Naylor, 17 years old, from Hollowmede in Wincheap. The house is down the road from the local primary school. Lucy was reported missing by her parents at 22.57 last night, Friday, 15 June. Her friend, Deborah Shaxted, also 17, of Victoria Road, Wincheap, confirmed that Lucy had spent the evening with her. Lucy left Debbie’s house just after ten to walk home. Unfortunately, she never arrived. Her parents, Rachel and Simon Naylor, contacted Deborah’s parents around ten-thirty; Mrs Shaxted remembered the television news had just finished. Both fathers left their homes and walked between the houses, each taking one of the two routes Lucy would probably have followed to get home. They found no trace of the girl. At that point, Lucy’s father ran home and telephoned the police.’

Saunders interrupted, ‘What about boyfriends? In a case like this …’

‘Lucy’s parents said she didn’t have a boyfriend.’

Jenny took another mouthful of coffee and Nat Borrowdale, who had been visibly itching to speak, seized his chance.

‘Mr and Mrs Shaxted said the same and Debbie confirmed it. She said neither of them has a boyfriend.’

Saunders’s eyes flicked from Eastham to Borrowdale. ‘I assume you got a description and a recent photograph?’

‘We got a good head and shoulders taken three months ago.’ Nat glanced down at his notes. ‘Her parents described her height as five-three to five-four, jaw-length mid-brown hair. She left home last night with a grey-blue cardigan over a white blouse and faded jeans. She was wearing brown flat-heeled shoes.’

‘The Shaxteds gave a similar description and Debbie confirmed the clothes,’ said Jenny. ‘She may be 17 but from the photo I’d say she looks younger and her clothes are rather old-fashioned for a teenager.’

DS Potts, whose eyes had been directed at his cupped hands, raised his head. ‘The photo’s been copied and distributed to the morning shift together with her description.’

‘So, what have we got?’ Saunders began to summarize. ‘Lucy Naylor, a 17-year-old schoolgirl with no known boyfriend, disappeared just after ten yesterday evening sometime during the five to six minutes it would take her to walk from the home of her friend, Debbie Shaxted, on Victoria Road to her own house on Hollowmede.’

‘What’s that stretch like between the two houses?’

Canterbury was Potts’s domain. He immediately roused himself and responded to Ed’s question.

‘Depends which way she went. Debbie said she left the house and turned left. That would give her two routes home, but Debbie said they generally took the pathway that runs from the southern end of Victoria Road directly into Hollowmede. The other possibility is via Cogan—’

Saunders interrupted. ‘Thanks, Mike, DS Ogborne will get to see the area later.’ The DI took a mouthful of coffee before continuing.

‘Last night, when Lucy was reported missing, we had a car patrol in the area while Nat and Jenny spoke to the parents. By then it was approaching midnight. Nobody was about and there was no sign of the girl. Neither Debbie nor either set of parents thought it remotely possible that Lucy had gone to visit somebody else. So, at the moment we have nothing but a missing girl.’

While the DI was talking, Mike Potts raised both hands to stifle a yawn and Nat Borrowdale appeared to be trying, without success, to catch the eye of Jenny Eastham. Saunders leant forward in his chair.

‘We’re assuming Lucy’s been abducted but, as yet, we have no evidence and no scene of crime although we currently have SOCO and uniform searching both routes between the girls’ homes. Perhaps we’ll get lucky. All the uniform officers on the morning shift are out with Lucy’s description and the photo but we’ve had no reported sightings.’

Looking directly at Ed, Saunders asked, ‘Where would you go from here?’

From the moment Jenny had begun her summary Ed had pushed aside all thoughts of her reception and focused fully on the case.

‘Do we have Lucy’s mobile number?’

Nat moved to consult his notebook.

Jenny began reciting, ‘07867—’

Nat immediately interrupted. ‘If he has any sense he’ll have switched it off.’

Mike cleared his throat and started to explain many areas didn’t have reception.

Ed coughed and cut across them all. ‘If we don’t get forensics to try locating her mobile we’ll never know.’

From the other side of the table, Brian Saunders held up a hand and said, ‘That was the first thing I authorized. Her mobile’s off or in an area with no reception. If the abductor has any sense, he’s removed the SIM.’

‘Thanks.’ Ed knew this was the moment she had to impress the team. As inconspicuously as possible, she took a deep breath.

‘Right, given the time of night, I assume the interviews with the Naylors and the Shaxteds were brief so we should question them in more detail. They’ll probably not come up with anything new so we need witnesses who saw something that might help. As a starter, we should cover every property on the routes Lucy could have taken from Debbie’s house in Victoria Road to her own in Hollowmede.’

‘Agreed.’ Saunders looked at DC Eastham. ‘Jenny, take Ed to talk to the parents. Mike, you and Nat organize the door-to-door. Split the two routes between you. Has anybody anything to add?’

Nobody spoke.

‘Right, we’ll meet back here in 30 minutes.’ His eyes moved to meet Ed’s. ‘Come with me. I’ll show you your desk.’

Ed followed Saunders to her desk where he left her in order to see the Super. Clearly it was going to be a busy day. Ed called the estate agent to rearrange her viewings for Sunday.

9

There was no sunlight and no birdsong as Lucy began to wake. Still drowsy, she reached out with her right hand to find Tomkins the Ted. These days he was the only one of her fluffy toys she allowed to share her bed. She couldn’t find him. He wasn’t there. That was strange; he was always there. Her uneasiness began to bubble into panic and then all was well. She was at the seaside. Tomkins must be safe at home. She was on the beach at Broadstairs. She could hear the Punch and Judy, ‘That’s the way to do it’.

‘Ah … you’re awake. Excuse the voice. Don’t be frightened. I’m going to treat you well.’

It wasn’t Mr Punch. She remembered that voice, those words. Her rising panic was replaced by a cold, debilitating fear. Lucy tried to turn towards the voice but couldn’t, her left arm was held by something soft but unyielding. She was helpless. Panic overcame her helplessness and she struggled against the restraint but it held firm. Fighting back tears of fear and frustration she raised her head and looked towards the voice. It was there, the figure from last night, standing outside the wire mesh partition, staring at her through two holes cut in its black hood. Without realizing what she was doing, Lucy began to scream.

The figure waited patiently until her cries weakened. Then the strange voice, the Mr Punch voice, came again.

‘Please don’t pull at the handcuff. I really don’t want you to hurt yourself. You’ll probably want to use the primitive sanitation. Remember the bucket at the end of the bed. There’s soap, water, and a towel on the table. I’ll step outside for ten minutes while you do what you have to do.’

Lucy watched him leave and biological necessity overcame her fear. The bucket disgusted her. It was difficult to use it while chained to the wall but she had no choice. She hurried to wash, not sure when he would return. It was at least ten minutes before she heard a knock and his Mr Punch voice call, ‘I’m coming in!’ She didn’t reply. A few moments later the door opened and he came back into the building.

‘Breakfast is limited this morning. There’s buttered toast with jam and tea, instant coffee or a glass of milk. The milk’s room temperature. There’s no fridge. Otherwise there’s water.’

Lucy wanted to be strong, to argue logically as she did in the debates at school but the panic returned, overwhelming her intentions.

‘I don’t want breakfast. Just let me go.’ She looked at him pleadingly, unable to keep the fear from her voice or the tears from her eyes. ‘Please … please let me go.’

He didn’t respond. The eyes behind the black hood looked at her impassively.

‘Why are you keeping me here? What do you want? Just let me go and I’ll not say anything. I’ll tell them I can’t remember what happened.’

Desperate to convince him, she was surprised that a clear logic was returning to her thoughts. To sway her captor she must tell him what he would like to hear.

‘I’ll say I don’t know what came over me, that when I came to my senses I found myself wandering the back streets of Canterbury. I was disorientated. Then I recognized where I was. I got myself together and walked home.’

While she spoke, the figure continued to remain silent but, as soon as she paused, it took command.

‘It’s imperative you remain here. You’ll be alone for much of the time but I’ll always return. Eventually, when I’m ready, I’ll let you go back to your family. For the moment, you need some food. I’ll get toast and while you’re eating we’ll make a shopping list for all the things you’ll need.’

He didn’t wait for a response but began to prepare breakfast.

Despite her fear Lucy decided it was best to play along with her captor. She was also hungry. As she ate the toast, he encouraged her to give him a list of what she would need: food and drink for a week and some changes of clothes. Already she was getting used to his Mr Punch voice.

‘I’ll get you a toothbrush and toothpaste, of course. However, perhaps there’ll be some more feminine items you’ll need. Remember you could be here for a month, perhaps six weeks or so. Here’s the list and a pencil. Write down all the extras you’ll need and add your sizes for the clothes.’

He asked her to give him the breakfast plate and glass through the slot in the chain link and, in return, passed her the paper and pencil. As she wrote he washed the breakfast things.

‘Have you finished?’

She offered the paper through the slot.

‘Don’t forget the pencil.’

She passed him the pencil.

‘I’m leaving now to do this shopping. It’ll take a few hours. Here’s a bottle of water and some biscuits.’

Lucy was beginning to feel more reassured and the waves of cold fear and panic were becoming less and less frequent. It was still an effort to be rational and pragmatic but that was the aim on which she must focus. Her screams and pleading had upset him. He was in control so she had little option but to do as he said. She needed him for food and drink. She must look for a weakness. What did he want? What did he plan to do? Trying to read him, to answer these questions, to search for a way out, would prevent the horror of her situation taking over her mind.

‘What about my parents?’

‘What about your parents?’ His tone lacked concern, as if her question was of no importance.

‘They’ll be worried.’

‘That’s unavoidable.’

Those were his last words before he turned and disappeared from the building leaving her chained and alone.

Rapidly, the ability to distract herself, to think of other things, slipped away. ‘When I’m ready, I’ll let you go.’ What was that all about? Just words, words spoken to reassure her, to keep her calm until … until he was ready; but ready for what? Lucy could not see beyond or around that unknown fate. It filled her head and robbed her of all thought and control. Girls who are taken are usually found dead. The thought which she’d struggled to push away hadn’t come as words but as an amorphous knowing whose meaning was only too clear: there was a very real chance he would kill her; she was going to die.

Lucy’s mouth felt dry, her skin damp, and her limbs began to tremble.

Desperately, she planted her feet, grasped the chain with both hands and pulled as hard as she could; nothing. She wrapped it once round her waist and threw her body backwards, crying out with pain as the links dug into her flesh. The chain held fast to the wall. She was totally helpless; unable to fight, unable to escape, and there was nowhere to hide. Overcome with dread, Lucy sank to the floor, drew her knees to her chest and encircled them with her arms in a vain attempt to stop the shaking. Please, if she was going to die, let it be quick, let it be painless.