Cold as Ice (11 page)

‘What’s that?’

‘Tobacco,’ she snapped. ‘What do you think it is?’

Tracy stared, wide-eyed, as Danielle rolled and lit the cigarette and then sat back on the sofa and smoked it as she stared straight ahead; they sat in silence.

‘What are you going to do?’ Tracy waved the smoke away from her face.

‘Nothing. They found nothing. They can see he’s not living here. They’ll know he lied. They’ll leave us alone now.’

‘How do you know it won’t happen again?’

‘I’ll get hold of him and make sure he doesn’t use this address again. I’m not going to make any trouble for myself.’

‘Will you let him see Jackson?’

‘I told you. I don’t. He doesn’t see him anyway. I wouldn’t allow him and he’s not interested.’

Tracy stood and picked up her bag.

‘I can’t put up with things like this happening. I mean – I’ve never seen anything like that. No one’s ever been so aggressive towards me – and to threaten
Jackson. What kind of people do you know, Danielle?’

‘They are people I
used
to know. Not any more. Now it’s just me and Jackson and I hoped it would be you but if it’s all too much for you then you better go. Because,
you know what? I won’t take any fucking criticism from you, Tracy. You’ve no right. You’re either on our side or you’re out for good. We don’t need it.’

‘I didn’t say that. It’s just . . .’ Tracy shook her head. ‘You seem to think it’s nothing, but it terrified me.’

Danielle switched the telly on as she kicked off her shoes and sat back in the sofa.

‘You’d better go.’

Pam was just leaving. She’d already stayed beyond ten and Robbo thanked her. Pam and Robbo had worked together for many years in his former life as a detective and
although both had long marriages at home, Pam was Robbo’s ‘work wife’. They had worked together in the Major Incident Room, manning the telephones, and feeding all incoming
information into HOLMES.

Robbo was agoraphobic. He had battled against it all his adult life. Sometimes he had to face his demons like in the court room. Then he’d learnt the technique of finding security within a
comfort zone he concocted for himself. When Robbo retrained and moved to a new office he’d had to spend time adjusting. Moving the desks around and reshuffling the cabinets to make it seem
familiar, he had finally settled on an arrangement where he was slightly backed into the corner of the room, with white boards behind him. From there he could see the corridor and he felt cocooned
and not trapped. He didn’t like germs. He liked things to be in order and precise. He liked to see the same people every day but only ever liked a few people in the office at one time. The
door to his office was always open and he knew where the exits were in case of panic attacks.

Many times he thought the daily struggle was too hard but he also knew that he loved his job and would battle against anything to do it well. He also knew that if he didn’t fight it he
would lose the battle.

‘Night, Pam. See you tomorrow.’

‘Are you going to get some sleep?’ she asked. He nodded vigorously. She gave Carter a look that said ‘That’s what he always says’.

Carter winked at her. ‘We’ll take care of him. See you tomorrow.’

‘Night, Pam,’ Ebony called out as she was coming down the corridor to Robbo’s office.

‘Doctor Harding’s sent over some results on the flaps of skin taken from Emily Styles’ back.’ She read out the results to Robbo and Carter. ‘They contained
splinters of wood – it’s a soft wood, possibly pine.’ Robbo rocked in his chair as he listened. ‘Doctor Harding says that the skin had closed over the splinters – that
would indicate she was lying on something wooden, rubbing against its surface.’ Ebony finished reading and looked at Carter. ‘A pine box – like a coffin.’

‘Not
like
a coffin,’ corrected Carter. ‘It was one.’

‘And she was there for some time – must have been to allow the skin to grow over,’ said Robbo.

‘Three months would do it.’ Carter pulled his chair closer to the desk and typed a search onto the PC.

‘Jesus, you can’t keep someone in a box for three months,’ said Robbo.

‘Gets her out to abuse her. Puts her back in,’ said Carter as he typed on the keyboard and scrolled down to read the information on the screen.

‘Just adding this to what we know about Hawk,’ he said. ‘All the men on file for false imprisonment in a box of some kind are serving life several times over. All of them
killed. Two out of the three demanded ransoms. One of the victims got away when she fooled her captor into thinking she was emotionally involved with him. He thought it was the start of a beautiful
relationship and let her go. Most of the time the victim was threatened with death if she tried to leave the box, thought it was wired to explode if she moved, that kind of thing. The men who kept
their victims like this were undoubtedly some of our worst, most sadistic killers.’

‘Now there’s a new kid on the block,’ said Robbo.

‘Could Hawk have modelled himself on one of these men?’ asked Ebony.

‘It’s always possible,’ said Robbo. ‘We’ll look into it.’

‘But he’s not asking for a ransom so it’s all about the killing and the torture.’ Carter was absorbed with reading the profiles of the murderers on his screen.

‘And he’s bringing his own style to it. He is making sure his MO is unique: the make-up and the jewellery,’ Ebony picked up the antique ring from Robbo’s desk and held it
in the palm of her hand. ‘The Styles were adamant they’d never seen it before when we showed them a photo.’

‘It hasn’t been reported stolen or lost,’ Robbo said, looking at the screen in front of him.

‘Did he give it to her and does that mean it holds a special significance to him? Or the symbolism?’ asked Carter.

‘It’s really pretty.’ Ebony held the ring up to the light. ‘Is it an antique engagement ring or maybe an eternity ring?’

Robbo tapped on his keyboard and brought up photos of similar ones on his PC. He turned the screen round to show them. ‘One central diamond surrounded by small clusters in the shape of a
flower – engagement. Eternity rings all tend to be a band with stones set inside, like a fancy wedding band.’

Ebony swung it in the air by the chain as she looked at it. ‘The two rings don’t go together. The other ring could be out of a cracker, it’s the kind young girls wear –
like you get free in teenagers’ comics. I think it was pink in the beginning but the metallic finish has washed off.’

‘If we know it wasn’t Emily’s then did Hawk put the two together and put it on her? Did Hawk want it to be found on her?’ Ebony felt the weight of the chain in her
hands.

Robbo took a sip of coffee. He was nodding without realizing as he rocked in his chair; and it creaked beneath his bulk. ‘Yes. Definitely. He knew it would be lost in the canal if he
didn’t tie it on to her so he put it on a sturdy chain and put it around her neck before taping it under the bag.’

Carter took the chain from Ebony and allowed it to snake down onto the desk where it lay coiled. ‘We need to talk to all her friends again, re-examine all the evidence. Look at CCTV from
the Tube station when she disappeared to see if we can find a match with anyone hanging about the canal,’ said Carter, who was mulling things over and still playing with the chain. ‘You
compiled the list of friends we need to talk to, Robbo?

‘Yes.’ Robbo tapped on his keyboard and the printer started up. He pulled out a sheet and then handed it across the desk to Carter. ‘The top five names on the list are her
closest friends.’

‘What did they say at the time?’ asked Carter.

‘They all told the same story,’ answered Ebony, staring at the photo of Emily Styles on the front page of the file. ‘That Emily was a bit unpredictable, that she liked to party
but that she was a good mother. This photo was taken by the third friend on the list Danielle Foster.’

‘We need to re-interview them now,’ said Carter. ‘Get hold of them and get them in for an interview. We can’t keep Emily Styles’ identity a secret any more.
It’s time to give the press a name. Perhaps then Hawk will come out of hiding.’

Tracy had a hard job making out who was phoning her through the fractured glass on her screen. It upset her every time she looked at her phone but she couldn’t afford to
get a new one till at least February. She heard Danielle’s voice on the other end.

‘I’m sorry, Tracy.’

Tracy moved into the bedroom to have privacy away from Steve. It was nine in the evening and she was so tired she was already getting ready for bed. Tracy had been working long hours since she
babysat for Danielle. She hadn’t heard a thing for three days.

‘Okay, well I probably overreacted.’

Danielle sighed at the other end of the phone. ‘No, you probably didn’t. It was an awful thing to happen. I know you weren’t glad, but I was really grateful it was you there
with Jackson. You coped when most other people would have flipped. I couldn’t have wanted anyone else but you, Tracy.’

Tracy felt a sob come into her throat. She coughed.

‘That’s very nice of you to say, Danielle. I hope Jackson is okay?’

‘Yes. He asked where Nanny had gone when he got up the next day. He seems to be all right about the break-in. ‘

‘Did you have the door fixed?’

‘Not yet but I will. I was ringing to ask if you would like to come to a Christmas school fête the day after tomorrow? We are raising funds to make costumes for our Nativity play.
Jackson’s playing a bunny.’

‘A bunny?’ Tracy laughed. ‘I don’t remember there being a bunny in the Christmas story!’

‘Yeah. He’s one of the animals in the stable. He looks really cute. You’ll have to come and see it when it’s on.’

‘I’d love to.’

‘So you’ll come then, on Saturday? I’ll see you at the park, children’s playground at half ten?’

‘Yes.’ Tracy ended the call and sat on her bed thinking. She couldn’t hear Steve moving about in the next room. He was in the lounge; she was sure of that. She could hear the
news on the television. He was in a funny mood tonight, sort of hovering. He was bound to guess the call was from Danielle – she never got a call at that time in the evening. Tracy thought
she should push for him to meet Danielle and Jackson now. She was sure she was meant to have them in her life. Now that she saw how vulnerable Jackson was and how much Danielle needed all her
support, and especially now that Danielle had apologized. She knew that they’d taken a big step forward and Tracy felt a commitment growing. If they were her life – they were in
Steve’s.

Steve turned as Tracy came back into the lounge; he was jumpy. He turned off the telly and picked up the car keys.

‘Are you going out?’ Tracy asked, surprised but also slightly relieved that she didn’t have to talk to him about Danielle and Jackson. Not right at that moment.

‘Yep. Work just called – seems there are some deliveries need sorting out before tomorrow. You can’t object surely? You’re hardly here at the moment.’

Tracy smiled. It was her ‘I’m smiling but inside I am bloody angry’ look. ‘Of course, love. If you’re needed then you have to go. I understand. I wouldn’t
want it any other way – my man the manager.’

She kissed his cheek and went to turn the television back on. Steve hovered by the door. The news came back on the telly. The photo of Emily Styles, taken by Danielle at the festival, was on the
screen. She looked across at Steve; he seemed to be waiting, to be building up to saying something. Tracy couldn’t face it. She didn’t want the criticism, the anger. ‘Oh
look.’ She diverted his attention. ‘They’ve found out the identity of that woman those boys found in the Regent’s Canal. What a shame – what a beautiful girl.’
Steve came to stand in front of the television. ‘Steve? I want to see the news. Can you move please, love?’

‘There’s no need to get cross just because I have to go to work.’

‘I’m not cross.’ Tracy blinked at him, even more confused than before.

‘You’re either at work or you’re with
that
woman and her son.’

‘Danielle and Jackson?’ Tracy felt panic grip her chest as she tried so hard to look in control and to stay calm and happy. ‘I’m not seeing a lot of them, Steve. But . .
. you know? I think it’s time we talked about the fact that they have come into our lives and we have to accept it. I would like you to meet them.’ Tracy looked at his face. ‘Not
now maybe . . .’ He seemed so upset that Tracy decided she’d been right that now was not such a good time to discuss it. She’d made a start at least. ‘Shall we have a proper
chat about this when you’re home and you’re free?’

‘Oh I’m home a lot – sat here on my own,’ he said accusingly.

‘Sorry, love.’ Something wasn’t right but Tracy couldn’t work out what was at the heart of it with Steve. He seemed to be doing his best to start an argument.
‘I’ve been working long hours at Simmons; I asked for extra shifts – but then we could do with the money.’

‘Oh, I know. It’s all my fault, isn’t it? I am always going to be blamed for everything in this house. Well I’ve had enough of it. You go and spend as much time as you
like with your new-found daughter and I’ll make my own life.’

Tracy was stunned into silence. She heard the front door slam. She couldn’t remember the last time Steve had thrown a wobbly like that; she had no idea what it was all about. She had to
admit she hadn’t really wanted to discuss things with Steve because she knew he always reacted badly to stress. Tracy’s attention was back on the television – the tall,
sickly-looking blond Detective Chief Inspector Bowie was appealing for the public’s help; they had to phone a number if anyone had any information about the dead woman in the canal. The photo
of Emily Styles stayed on the screen.

Danielle was about to switch the news off and look for a film to watch when she froze as she looked at her friend’s face. Emily Styles with her distinctive auburn hair
was smiling out of the screen just the way she was the last time Danielle had seen her at the festival. Danielle edged closer to the television and listened to the news report; everything else in
the room disappeared as her brain tried to make sense of what she was looking at. She stared at Emily’s photo on the screen and saw the film of the officers searching the towpath in the
background. Detective Chief Inspector Bowie was giving a press conference, recorded earlier in the day.