Lost Girls (26 page)

D
awson counted
seven clutches of youths watching him as he drove through the roads that traversed the estate, before pulling to a stop at the tower block that loomed imposingly over the centre of Hollytree.

Kai would definitely know he was coming.

As he walked towards the entrance to Highland Court he glanced up at the camera protruding from the building. Hollytree had twenty-seven strategically placed domes; all of which had been vandalised, painted and smashed too many times to count. As a consequence the council had conceded defeat and no longer made any repairs or replacements to the CCTV.

Dawson had experienced no hesitation in donning his stab vest before he'd left the Timmins' house. The heavy garment offered no real protection if someone was serious about causing him harm. A knife wound to the neck or thigh would finish him off just as efficiently. But somehow it made him feel better.

He pressed the lift button with hope but no expectation. Kai Lord lived on the thirteenth floor. The top.

His body breathed a sigh of relief when the lift opened before him. It had been a long day.

Dawson was not surprised to see another group of youths as he stepped out of the lift. But he was shocked that they stood aside to let him through.

As with the other micro gangs he'd spotted during his journey, this one was also comprised of a mixture of colour. Hollytree Hoods had never been a racially motivated gang, it was territorial and controlled the area on and around the estate. But the commonality was obvious as he stepped through the middle of them. They all wore the colours of the gang. Some had the bandanas on their heads, others around their wrists and one had threaded it through the belt loop of his jeans.

He heard teeth being kissed as he knocked the door. He turned and met the gaze of a short ginger-haired lad whose stance was a bit too gangster to be gangster. The self-satisfied smirk confirmed that the sound of disrespect had come from him.

Dawson shook his head and turned back to the door as it opened.

The expression of Kai Lord showed no surprise, as Dawson had expected.

As he quickly appraised the man before him, Dawson found himself immediately thinking of a Staffordshire bull terrier. Kai was not tall but he was solid. His jeans dropped low enough to display the Armani band of his shorts. His upper body was naked and Dawson could understand why. His brown skin only accentuated his well-defined six-pack and pectorals.

There was neither a frown nor a smile on Kai's face as he stepped away from the door.

The hallway was small and windowless but the light from the lounge lit the way.

Dawson stepped into a living space that was dominated by a grotesquely large television. He counted three games consoles stacked beneath with an assortment of joysticks and controllers that littered the floor.

Rather than a conventional three-piece suite, Kai had opted for five leather La-Z-Boy chairs formed in an arc around the huge screen.

The smell of marijuana was present but not overpowering.

Kai sat back and relaxed in the middle chair. ‘What you wanting, blud?'

Dawson remained standing. He was not this gang leader's friend.

‘How well did you know Dewain Wright?'

‘He was fam, ya get me?'

‘Did you know he wanted out of the gang?'

‘Kinda.'

‘Did he ask to be let out?'

Dawson knew there were few ways to leave gang culture. The most successful was to ‘age out'. Get a job, a girlfriend, marry, have a kid. It worked more for peripheral members than core players but Dewain had been a teenager and nowhere close to ‘ageing out'.

‘Nah, kid been acting booky for a while, innit?'

‘Booky?'

Kai waved his hand in the air as though it was obvious. ‘Weird. Losing his colours. Not coming around. We see the signs, man,' he said, knowingly.

‘What signs?' Dawson asked.

‘Of wanting to leave the crew. Do it gradual, like, and no one gonna notice.'

Dawson knew of this method but it had to be planned and taken slowly. Very slowly.

‘But Lyron noticed?'

‘Woulda been shit if not. Bang weren't gonna do it so Lyron decided a shank was best.'

Dawson was pleased he knew enough to understand that a bang was a punch and shank meant stab.

He was surprised at the openness with which Kai spoke. But he supposed Lyron had been arrested for murder and wouldn't be back any time soon.

‘When did you know Dewain was still alive?'

Kai shrugged. ‘Dunno, blud.'

‘Were you at the hospital?' he pushed.

Another shrug.

‘So, you were an accessory to the murder?' he pushed. ‘You were part of the fight in the corridor that caused the distraction so your “blud” could get in there and finish the job?'

Kai was unmoved and shrugged again.

‘Jesus, you guys are all as bad—'

‘Nah, mate, you're wrong there,' Kai said with the first hint of emotion. ‘Lyron was a dick who ruled by blood in, blood out. Not me, man.'

Dawson knew that meant you committed a crime to get in and only by blood did you leave. And Dewain had paid in spades.

‘You did all right out of Dewain's death, eh?' Dawson asked.

Beneath the affable exterior he saw the irritation flash through the narrowed eyes.

‘Job was going spare, innit?'

‘Who told him, Kai?' Dawson asked. ‘Who told Lyron that Dewain was still alive?'

Kai remained silent. No shrug and no answer.

Dawson sighed heavily and shook his head. He was getting no more. He glanced out of the window and could see that three groups had converged beneath the street lamp right next to his car.

He turned to the gang leader. ‘So, do I leave this place alive?'

Kai smiled and shrugged. ‘You don't come for me, I don't come for you. Ya get me?'

Dawson nodded his understanding and headed towards the hallway. The stench of marijuana faded and was replaced by a stronger smell that he recognised.

Of course. Why had he not realised before? Dawson cursed his own stupidity.

He knocked three times on the only closed door in the hallway.

‘Lauren, you can come out now. I'm done.'

He took the stairs back down in an effort to clear his head.

As affable as Kai was, Dawson could not afford to forget that Lyron had been told by someone that Dewain was still alive. Lyron had finished the job and would be imprisoned for a very long time and now Kai was king of the castle. Nice promotion.

The gang of four that had been outside Kai's door were now beside his car, a restless energy emanating from them that he hadn't felt before. He offered them a look before he sensed the tension in the air.

Dawson turned his head and looked up to the thirteenth floor. The silhouette of Kai was outlined against the window.

The shadow turned and moved away – just as the first powerful blow landed on the back of his head.

D
awson gasped
out loud and tried to reach his car door.

The second blow caught his right temple. Instantly a veil dropped over his vision, like a curtain of the night sky, complete with stars.

He felt a jab to his right kidney with more than just a fist. He suspected he'd been struck with a knuckleduster as four points of pain exploded through his body. He heard the groan escape his lips as his body ached to fold. He fought to remain upright as the blows continued to land.

Dawson knew if he gave in to his body's instinct to bend at the waist he would be making life even easier for his attackers.

He brought up his arms around his head as another fist landed behind his ear. ‘Get the fuck off,' he managed to spit out, as he twisted and turned trying to avoid the blows.

‘Shut the fuck up, pig.'

‘Kai gave you … instruction to …'

‘Fuck Kai, man. This is for entering our patch at all.'

A foot caught him behind the knee and he fell to the ground. Again, he tried to protect his head.

A shoe landed somewhere near his ribs but the vest helped shield him from the blow.

‘He's vested, man,' the kicker shouted.

‘Shank him, man, shank him,' another cried.

He raised his head and saw a blade attached to one of the hands. Real fear seeped into his stomach. What part of his body should he try to protect? His rage grew with his inability to fight back. He hated gang fights. He'd take any of them one on one but this was far from a fair fight.

He could hear feet scuffling around his head as they moved around his body.

‘Get outta the fucking way, man,' he heard.

The one with the knife was trying to get closer to him but the others aiming punches were getting in the way.

He twisted and turned and bucked his body as his mind tried to prepare for the blade. Every limb was thrashing out to stop that knife making contact.

His mind screamed that this could be it. Any second he could feel a blade slice into his flesh.

‘Hey, you little bastards, get away from him,' a woman's voice called.

‘Fuck off, bitch,' one of them sneered.

The voice was familiar but Dawson couldn't place it. However, the kicks had paused for just a few seconds and for that he was grateful. His body sang from the respite.

A light shone towards them as the woman spoke again. ‘In about three seconds I'm going to be able to identify every one of you.'

The voice was strong and confident.

‘Jackpot, I know that's you at the back.'

Dawson heard the rustle of clothing as they all turned and scarpered away. A stray foot landed on his hand in the process.

He couldn't help the cry that escaped from his lips.

He felt a hand rest beneath his elbow. ‘Hey, are you okay?'

Dawson's gaze travelled over the high heels, up the trousers that clung to shapely calves and a thick jacket.

‘Oh, Jesus, not you,' he said, without thinking.

Tracy Frost tipped her head, raised an eyebrow. ‘You're welcome,' she said, pulling him to his feet.

Instantly he realised how his response had sounded; he was grateful that Tracy had happened along when she had.

‘Sorry. I didn't mean to sound like an arsehole. Thank you for getting them off me.'

‘Look, one good turn deserves another. I remember a time I was grateful for your help and your discretion. So now we're even.'

‘I think you may have just saved my life.'

She tutted. ‘Don't be stupid. If they'd wanted you dead I'd be on the phone for an ambulance right now.' She turned him towards her and looked him up and down. ‘But I think you'll live.'

Despite the pain raging around his body, Dawson's brain was fully functioning and he realised that the bloody reporter had been following him. And although he was grateful that she had been there, she was not getting anything from him.

‘Listen, Tracy. I don't care how much you just helped me. I'm not going to talk to you about anything else.'

The statement took her by surprise but she recovered quickly. ‘Great, that's a wasted night following you around, then, eh?'

‘You weren't here for me, were you?' he asked. A smile began to form before the pain in his jaw stopped it dead.

His right hand immediately rubbed the affected area.

‘Yeah. I thought you'd be easier to tap than Pearl.'

He frowned. ‘Pearl?'

Tracy shrugged. ‘It's what we call your boss at the office. You know, clam, closed, impenetrable. Probably one of the nicer names, if I'm honest.'

‘Hey, hang on,' Dawson said, feeling his body stiffen. ‘You don't know her. She's—'

‘Don't bother,' she said, holding up her hand. ‘Not really going to believe a word you say so you'd best save your breath,' she said, turning away.

Dawson conceded the point, but was suddenly struck by a realisation. ‘Okay, and your secret is safe with me.'

‘What secret?'

‘You weren't on Hollytree for me,' he said. ‘You were here because you want to know what happened to Dewain. It's because you actually do give a shit.'

She sighed heavily. ‘Okay, you're half right. I do want to know what happened to Dewain but make no mistake. It's only because I want the story.'

The words were too forced. An edge of ruthlessness injected for effect.

He tried the smile again as she headed off into the darkness.

He called loudly enough for her to hear. ‘Like I said, Tracy. Your secret is safe with me.'

It didn't really matter why Tracy had been there. He was just thankful that she was. He had the feeling that he'd just cheated death.

S
ix minutes
after Kim had received the call from Emily, Matt parked on double yellow lines outside the pizza parlour.

Kim launched herself from the passenger seat before the car stopped moving. The queue at the counter was three people deep, while people who had already been served milled around eating their doner kebabs.

Kim pushed her way to the front, ignoring the shouts of protest.

‘Police; where's the girl?' she asked the manager.

‘Over there,' he said, nodding towards the fruit machine. Kim looked where he had pointed. Two girls shrieked as the machine spat out two pound coins.

Emily wasn't there.

‘Where?' she shouted. Everyone in the place turned and looked.

The manager looked over the heads waiting to be served and then shrugged.

‘Shit, she's gone,' Kim said, as she rushed past Matt. He landed outside beside her. ‘Damn it, where is she?' she cried, looking right and then left. The takeaway sat at the bottom of Lye High Street. There was the road they had travelled along from Pedmore. Surely they'd have seen her if she'd gone that way. But Kim hadn't really been looking, as she'd expected Emily to be at the takeaway.

Another road headed towards up to the Merry Hill shopping centre. The road opposite headed straight to the Stourbridge ring road.

‘Shit, where do I look?' she said to herself. There were four possible directions of travel.

‘Calm down,' Matt instructed.

‘How can I calm down when I'm missing a ten-year-old girl? I need to call her mother. What if she's been taken …?'

‘Think logically. She's old enough to get this far and she managed to phone you. So, if she moved of her own free will, where would she have gone?'

She stood still and looked in each direction. Emily had been in the takeaway. The manager had seen her. What had prompted her to leave, and where would she have gone?

Kim looked across the road to The Railway pub. Two men stood outside the entrance, smoking. The rest of the road, as far as she could see, was lit only by street lights and a petrol station just past the vet's office.

Over the road was an Indian restaurant which was dimly lit. No other lights showed beyond, so Kim ruled out Emily going in that direction.

Along Lye High Street a couple of shop windows were illuminated.

‘You check the petrol station and I'll go this way,' she instructed.

Luckily, Matt decided not to argue with her and headed away.

Kim walked slowly along the high street, checking in shop doorways as she went. Her heart beat louder with every passing step. She knew she should have phoned Emily's mother as soon as she put the phone down, but she had been sure she would be with her in just a few minutes.

If her actions had harmed Emily in any way Kim would never forgive herself.

She stepped across the road to check the doorways there and passed a darkened street leading to a car park at the rear of the shops. Kim felt sure Emily would not have gone down there. Even she herself would have hesitated.

A shadow loomed up behind her from the doorway of a convenience store. She turned. It was the proprietor closing up.

‘Have you seen a little girl?' she asked, looking past him into the shop.

He shook his head and edged away from her.

Two males were swearing at the cashpoint. She approached them.

‘Hey, you seen a young girl hanging around?'

She could see that they were only late teens. One looked her up and down and the other shook his head.

A couple were sitting in a car on the double yellow lines. They appeared to be having a domestic. Kim knocked heavily on the window, scaring them both to death.

The female in the driver's seat wound down her window, her mouth ready with abuse.

‘What the—'

‘Have you seen a young girl wandering around on her own?' Kim asked.

The woman shook her head, anger forgotten.

Shit. It could only have happened in the last few minutes. How could no one have seen a ten-year-old girl wandering alone at this time of night?

Emily, where are you? Kim silently cried.

She took a breath and continued walking. Another few feet and a bright light shone across the road and onto her boots.

A wave of hope surged through her. The double window displayed the welcoming bright lights of a mini market.

Kim immediately knew that if
she
was on the move, that's where she'd go.

She darted across the road and glanced in the window. The cashier was not at the front desk.

Please be here, Emily, she prayed, opening the door.

A bell sounded somewhere at the rear of the shop.

A woman in her early fifties appeared, dressed in navy blue trousers and a black zipped-up fleece jacket.

‘Have you seen a little girl?' Kim blurted.

‘And who are you?' the woman asked.

Kim could have cried with relief. Emily was there or the answer would have been a simple ‘no'.

Kim had never been happier to show her badge.

‘Detective Inspector Stone, the girl called me earlier to come and get her.'

‘Follow me,' she said.

Kim headed to the rear of the shop and through the door marked ‘Staff Only'.

Emily sat in the corner of a small staffroom that held some tea and coffee provisions and a few lockers.

Kim charged towards the girl and grabbed her hands. ‘Emily, why did you leave the takeaway?'

The poor girl was pale and trembling uncontrollably. Her palms were ice cold.

‘I had to,' she said, looking at Kim through terrified eyes.

Kim lowered herself to Emily's level. She hadn't sounded like this on the phone.

‘Emily, what happened?'

‘It was him,' she said, as the first tear fell. ‘I saw him. I saw the man that took me.'