Evil Valley (17 page)

‘No, sorry. With all that’s going on, I completely forgot. I’ll do it now.’

He was interrupted by the plain-clothes man lumbering up the stairs towards them. ‘Mr Breen, Mr Breen …’ he panted.

‘Yes, John,’ said Adam, losing patience waiting for him to get his breath. ‘Come on man, what is it?’

‘A kid …’ he managed, between breaths. ‘A little girl … abducted. About an hour ago … in Plymouth … description of the man matches Gibson.’

‘Oh fuck,’ said Adam Breen quietly.

Chapter Thirteen

I
T WAS THE BRIEFEST
of calms. Adam clenched his fists, began barking orders.

‘John, get the description out to every cop and traffic warden and community support officer and military police and anyone else you can think of. I want everyone looking out for Gibson, the girl and whatever details you’ve got of the car. Then get onto the High Honchos and ask them for all the extra manpower they can raise. I want the helicopter too. Get the press office to issue an immediate media alert with the descriptions. Emphasise that the first few hours are vital in an abduction. If we don’t get her quickly, the chances of finding her alive plummet. I’ll work out what details of the crime we release in a while. Dan you’re part of that. Get your outside broadcast people ready. I want this on air as soon as you can manage.’

He grabbed his phone. ‘I’ll have to divert them from coming here. Where shall I tell them to go? Where was she snatched?’

‘Widey

Dan called Lizzie, explained what had happened. The phone buzzed with a gasp of pleasure. ‘Wow! Brilliant! What a story! Little girl abducted! How old was she?’

Dan noted the use of the past tense. He winced, but didn’t bother saying anything. It was like trying to stand in the way of an avalanche. ‘She is – that’s IS – eight. Nine in a couple of days.’

Another rattling sigh. ‘Great, real tear jerking age. Even better that it’s almost her birthday. Real pathos. Right, I want wall-to-wall coverage. I want a picture of her. I want tearful interviews with her parents. I want a description of the perve. I want the cops. I want it all live. It’s about time we had another cracking story. The ratings have been sagging a bit recently. This’ll pep them up. I knew it was a good idea of mine to let you go off with the police again.’

‘Of yours?’

‘Yep.’

Dan didn’t argue, didn’t have time. ‘Can we flash it?’

‘What?’

‘Do a newsflash. It’s quarter past ten. We’re not on air until half one. Seconds are vital in trying to save an abducted kid.’

There was a pause on the line. ‘Well, I don’t know. Morning TV is pretty popular, and there are the advertisers to think of …’

Dan was ready for that, had his counter-argument prepared. An unanswerable one too, if he knew his editor. ‘If we flash it we’d guarantee to be the ones to break the news,’ he interrupted. ‘It’ll be quite an exclusive to put in our entry to the Royal Television Society awards this year.’

‘Done. We’ll do a bit of you on the phone. I’ll get a graphic made up with a description of the girl. We’ll call you back in a min.’

‘Sure. Lizzie, can you just pass me on to one of the researchers a sec, I’ve got something I need to check.’

When he finished the call he turned to Adam who was talking fast to the other detective, studying a map.

‘Don’t tell me,’ said Dan slowly. ‘The little girl’s name is Nicola.’

Adam stared at him. ‘How the hell did you know that?’

‘Remember Gibson’s letter and that bit about the rose and Romeo and Juliet? The quotation is all about “what’s in a name?”’

‘And?’

‘There’s the other link between your victims. Sarah, Jane, Nicola. Your Chief Constable’s name. Sarah-Jane Nicola Hill is her full name, I believe? It’s just what I thought at the leisure centre last night. It’s another way of having a go at you, isn’t it? That’s why he took the job as the security guard, so he would meet some women whose names would fit his plan. He could get their addresses from the centre’s records too. So I’m assuming this Nicola also went to the leisure centre regularly.’

‘She did,’ said Adam. ‘Swimming lessons.’

‘So she would probably have known him and trusted him. And so got into his car …’

‘Without any fuss or fight,’ completed Adam. ‘He groomed her for abduction.’

The three men looked at each other. ‘We sussed it too late,’ whispered Adam. ‘Again. A-bloody-gain.’

‘Shit, what a bastard,’ added John.

Dan’s phone warbled. ‘You wanted it out on the media as soon as possible,’ he said to Adam. ‘This is the newsroom now. We’re going to flash it. What do I need to say?’

‘The description of Nicola, Gibson and what we’ve got of the car. That’s the important stuff. I want as many people looking out for them as possible. Not Gibson’s name yet though. Tell the viewers how important it is we find them soon. Tell them if they see anything to call 999, but don’t approach the man. Don’t mention that we think he’s got a gun, just warn people to call us.’

‘OK.’ Dan answered the call. ‘Quick, Adam, give me the descriptions so we can make up a graphic.’

‘Coming to you in a couple of mins Dan,’ came Emma, the director’s voice, down the line.

He took a series of deep breaths, tried to calm himself. It wasn’t the kind of story you wanted to make a mess of. Dan tried not to think that a little girl’s life might depend on what he was about to say. He massaged his aching ankle, concentrated on the message he needed to deliver.

Emma’s voice again. ‘Thirty seconds, Dan, standby.’

He felt Adam’s eyes on him, turned away, focused his thoughts. A prickling sweat was spreading up his back and the phone was trembling in his hand.

‘We interrupt this programme to bring you some breaking news,’ intoned Craig in his sternest voice. ‘A young girl has been abducted in Plymouth and the police are asking for urgent public help in finding her. Our crime correspondent Dan Groves is with the police investigation and joins us on the line now. Dan, what more do we know?’

‘Craig, the girl’s name is Nicola Reece. She was abducted just before nine o’clock this morning while on her way to school in the Peverell area of Plymouth. She’s described as about four and a half feet tall, with blonde hair, which she has in a ponytail. She was wearing her school uniform, a navy blue sweater with white blouse, a matching navy skirt, white knee socks and black shoes. She also had on a grey duffle coat. The man who abducted her is about five feet ten tall, with a lean build, in his late 30s with short, dark blond hair. There’s little detail of the car he abducted Nicola in, apart from that it was red and not new. The police are launching a major manhunt and they emphasise it’s vital that Nicola is found as soon as possible. They ask all members of the public to be on the lookout for her or the man and to call 999 immediately if they see anything. I repeat, call 999 but do not approach the man.’

Craig thanked him, and re-introduced the original programme. Dan found himself leaning heavily against a cold brick wall, listening to tips on making the most of the space in a small kitchen.

‘Dan! Dan!’ Adam was shaking him.

‘Err, sorry. Just … err … recovering …’

‘You did good. Thanks. That should help. Right, come on, let’s get going. We’ve got to get this bastard.’

Adam started jogging down the stairs. Dan followed, couldn’t help overhearing the quick call his friend made. It was to Tom’s school to check he was safely in lessons. The boy was nine years old, almost exactly the same age as Nicola.

The big white outside-broadcast van with Wessex Tonight emblazoned on its side was manoeuvring to park as they arrived. The street was packed with police cars and vans, officers striding and jogging back and forth. Nigel was trying to guide Loud into a space without denting a new Volvo. Uniformed police with clipboards knocked at doors and stopped passers-by to talk to them. The police helicopter buzzed overhead.

‘Good,’ said Adam, taking in the scene. ‘I asked for the works and the High Honchos have given them to me – for once. I’m going to go sort out the inquiry. I’ll do a press conference when the hacks have all gathered. Is there anything else you want for now?’

‘We’ll need a picture of Nicola,’ said Dan.

‘It’s being done.’

‘And a word with her parents? That’s the most important thing. If you really want to make an impact and get people to take notice, we need to hear from the parents about their turmoil and anguish’

‘There’s only a mum. She’s distraught at the mo, but we’ll ask her later.’

‘Can I do a live interview with you for the news at 1.30?’

‘Sure. I’ll come back here to your OB truck.’

Loud had managed to park halfway up the kerb but Dan didn’t think anyone would mind today. He grabbed Nigel and they went filming, leaving Loud to set up the satellite link. ‘Do you think I should change the shirt?’ he’d asked as they left. ‘Given the story, you know?’

Today’s outfit boasted a glowing rainbow, with white birds flying above and green towering trees and golden sand below. ‘Yes,’ said Dan firmly. Loud’s beard twitched, but he didn’t argue.

They filmed a couple of policemen knocking on doors and talking to the people who answered. Then they followed another couple walking down the street, stopping people and asking for their help. Dan interviewed some of the locals, got the usual stuff about it being shocking, who’d have thought it would happen here, what kind of a world is it we live in? It was useful colour for his report but what they really needed was that picture of Nicola and an interview with her mum. People and pictures, always the key to a TV story.

The pack was gathering fast: newspaper reporters from the
Wessex Standard
and
, Western Daily News
, a couple of freelance news agencies. Universal TV had arrived too, and a gaggle of photographers, Dirty El amongst them. They managed a brief chat.

‘Any news?’

‘On what?’ asked El, his sleazy grin saying he knew full well.

‘Your little mission.’

‘It’s proceeding smoothly. Haven’t hit the jackpot yet, but the groundwork is complete and I’m confident of a favourable outcome.’

‘Well, let me know, I’d be very interested. Aside from work, we must have another beer sometime, mate.’

‘Can’t at the mo. This little part-time job I’ve got is taking up all my evenings.’

‘What part-time job? That doesn’t sound like you. What’s that about?’

El’s grin grew wider and he warbled a few tuneless bars of a song. Dan sensed a painful rhyme approaching, and was quickly proved right.

‘She’d disapprove would his mother,

Of El undercover,

But a police mark-s-man,

He must snap how he can,

‘Coz for a pic all the tabloids will love ya!’

Dan was about to ask another question when he was interrupted by Adam striding towards them. Cameras rose and microphones appeared as the pack arranged themselves in a semi-circle, Nigel in the middle as ever. A couple of flashes flared. Adam handed around a clutch of photocopied sheets. A colour picture of Nicola and a description of her, Gibson and his car. Excellent.

‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ he said, as polite as ever, even under such pressure. ‘This will have to be brief as I’ve got a lot to do, but I do appreciate your help. It’s important to us. I can’t emphasise enough, public help is vital here. Can everyone who reads, or sees, or hears this please look out for Nicola, or this man, or the car we believe they were in. Each passing moment is vital in trying to find Nicola alive. Please help by looking out for her. So far we have no leads as to where she might be. I desperately need information that can help us. That’s it for now, but I’ll update you again this afternoon. Nicola’s mum is also preparing a statement for you.’

*          *          *

Claire grabbed her coat and followed Suzanne out of the CID office. Whiting hadn’t hesitated when the call came through. ‘Go,’ he’d hissed. ‘A live child takes priority over an investigation into two dead men. We can reconvene when the child has been found. Go.’

She’d just about finished her emails anyway. She hadn’t told Whiting what she was doing, just that she was going through some of the interviews and trying to work out if there might be a pattern. He’d accepted it, if with one of those questioning looks of his. It wasn’t as though they had much else to work on. Suspicion, that was still just about it. Suspicion and the possibility of a motive, but no evidence, just the persistent question of what that password they’d found in Crouch’s house could mean.

There were computers at all the homes. One in Bodmin, one in Saltash and Crouch had one. Could that be the connection? It fitted with the password. But then, what home didn’t have a computer nowadays? It wasn’t a great lead but it was all they had. It had to be worth investigating.

She wondered if she’d see Dan at the abduction scene. He was bound to be there. A story like that, he’d be sent straight away. It would be the first time they’d met on a job. She still didn’t want other police officers to know they were seeing each other, but it was impossible to keep quiet. They went out for a drink, they saw someone she knew, suddenly the word was around the force. Whiting certainly seemed to know, and if he did then everyone did.

Well, whatever, it was up to her what she did with her private life. There was just that question of the effect on her career, how other officers might treat her, whether the High Honchos could worry about trusting her. Suspicion was ingrained in the police. It was their world. She’d just have to face it and, if she were asked, she’d tell them what she and Dan had agreed. They’d discussed it and they’d resolved it, and that was that. If her bosses trusted Dan, of course.

He’d been helpful in her inquiry too, putting her on to Richie Hanson’s sister. That was one thing she still couldn’t understand. The woman had been adamant her brother was incapable of violence, and despite years of being lied to in interviews Claire had believed her. But how could that evidence fit with the medical reports, about the bruises on Jo Chanter’s body and the statements from her and Crouch that Hanson was threatening her with a knife when he was shot? They had Hanson’s fingerprints on the knife too. Something was wrong there, she sensed it, but couldn’t quite see what. She’d do some more work on it. First, the search for Nicola. That was most important now.

If she saw Dan there, it would have to be polite and professional. He’d understand. They both had jobs to do and couldn’t afford to be distracted, not on a case like this. She could text him later to apologise. Claire couldn’t show it – knew he didn’t like a fuss – but she’d surprised herself with how worried she was about him. What was he getting into, with this madman they were hunting sending him letters? Whatever he might say about doing his job, he wasn’t like her and Suzanne and Adam Breen, not paid to take risks and not experienced in it. For all his bravado, she knew how vulnerable he could be.