Sleep Tight (23 page)

‘Tell me again how you met Robert,’ she asked without raising her eyes to mine.

So I told her the story one more time, even though I’d already explained how Robert had been the man who had bought my flat, and how he had rescued me when my whole life had fallen down around my ears. How he’d been so kind. All of that was true. The fact that I wasn’t happy now was no reflection on how things had been then.

‘Where did he go to university?’ she asked. Strange question, but I told her it was Manchester, just like us.

‘Did you never meet him then?’ she asked. I was beginning to be concerned about this. What was wrong with Sophie? She handed the photo back to me and leaned over to grab both of my hands, looking me in the eyes for the first time since she had seen the picture.

‘Do you remember I told you how all the guys at university were in love with you?’ She didn’t wait for my response. ‘There was one guy who I was really worried about. He turned up everywhere, just watching. Remember – I told you about him, but you used to laugh it off? I called him Creepy Guy.’

I had no idea where this conversation was going, so I just looked at Sophie and I’m sure she could see my confusion.

‘You may never have clapped eyes on Robert before he bought your flat. But I can promise you that he’d seen you before – about a thousand times. He knew
exactly
who you were.’

‘I swear to you, we’d never met. I would have remembered.’

‘Liv, this guy used to follow you everywhere. You never believed me at the time, but wherever you were, there he was. I don’t know how to tell you this. Robert… he’s Creepy Guy.’

33

Robert Brookes lay on the faded peach candlewick bedspread and looked around him at the grubby room. He had never expected it to come to this, hiding out from the police in a dingy hotel in the back streets of Manchester. But he’d had no choice. He couldn’t use his credit cards again, and he had to find somewhere that would let him pay cash.

He’d been round all the banks and withdrawn the maximum on each card. His gold card had let him take out £750 and, although he had been expecting more from his platinum account – the one Olivia knew nothing about – he was limited to the same amount. He’d got as much as he could on both debit cards too, so he had about £2500 to keep him going. He had also let himself into his office and signed out a pool car in somebody else’s name. He just hoped nobody would notice for at least a couple of days.

With any luck his trick with the taxi would use up some police resources too. Did they really think he would be stupid enough to phone for a taxi from the house? Once he had placed the bogus call to one taxi firm, he had walked in entirely the opposite direction to the nearest supermarket and picked up the public telephone there to call a different taxi company.

Another thing he’d had to do was lose his mobile phone. His mind had been in such a muddle that he couldn’t remember whether he could be tracked just by the SIM card, or by the phone itself. He’d read somewhere that in the US it was possible for the authorities to switch on the microphone on a mobile to listen in even when the phone was switched off. He couldn’t risk being wrong about this. He’d extracted the SIM as he had walked to the supermarket and dropped it down a grid in the side of the road. Much as it had pained him, he had gone round the back of some local shops and stamped on his brand new iPhone until it was completely shattered. He had put the bits into a huge trash bin behind the butcher’s where no doubt it would be mixed with all kinds of carcasses and offal. Nobody was going to be looking in there.

The taxi had dropped him off outside the office and, as soon as he had purloined a car
and grabbed an iPad that nobody knew was lurking in his desk drawer, he had started his search for Sophie Duncan. She and Olivia had been inseparable in their early days at university, until Jahander had come along to join the party. There had been other boyfriends before Danush, but nobody serious, and Robert had known he would just have to bide his time. He’d watched and waited. From the first moment he saw Olivia, laughing at some joke or other in the bar, he had decided that she had to be his. It was as if everybody else in the room had faded to a pale grey, with only Olivia glowing with colour and vitality in the centre. That was how he always saw her – at the centre of his vision – until that bitch Sophie made it impossible for him to be near.

He’d been racking his brains to remember everything he had ever known about Sophie. He had made it his business to find out about Olivia’s friends, and Sophie had been top of the list. She’d been dealt with appropriately nine years ago – it hadn’t taken much to drive her out of Olivia’s life. She’d had to go: Olivia had to rely on
him
and not on random friends who wouldn’t take care of her like he would. How had they managed to get back in touch? He must have got sloppy, but he couldn’t think how.

One thing he did remember from all those years ago was where Sophie’s mother lived, and he hadn’t been able to believe his luck when the lovely Mrs Duncan – under some pressure, it had to be said – had revealed that her daughter was living there for the time being, and would be home soon.

That bitch Sophie had told him nothing, though.
Nothing
. And then he had pushed it just that little bit too far. He had dearly wanted to slap her around to wake her up, but before she’d passed out she had been screaming and he had no idea if the neighbours would have called the police. He’d had to get out of there.

From the moment he saw Sophie’s photo on Mrs Evans’ pinboard, he knew Olivia had out-manoeuvred him, and that wherever she had gone, she wouldn’t be coming back. He wasn’t ready to share that with the police, though. She had to be found. She had to be returned to where she belonged.
With him
.

He had made it absolutely clear to her exactly what would happen if she ever dared to leave him, and he had been sure she had understood his every word, every nuance. He had worked so damned hard to win her, but she was going to suffer for what she had done to him, and all he could think of was the pain he would inflict on her for the torment she had caused him.

34

The news from Jumbo the previous night had disrupted all of Tom’s plans to interview Sophie. As he had ended the call and stepped back into the hospital cubicle, he could see a new greyness to Sophie’s skin, and her eyes were bright with fever. For a moment, he wondered if she had heard Jumbo’s booming voice even though he had moved away, but she would have needed extraordinary powers of hearing. He knew they would get nothing else from her until she’d had a chance to rest.

And of course, he’d had to tell Becky the news.

‘It could mean nothing,’ she’d said. ‘He could have killed some other poor bugger too.’

But it had dinted her confidence, and he felt as if they were almost back at square one.

They were hoping that Sophie would be able to tell them more; give them some clue about what had happened to Olivia and the children, but when she’d opened the door to them this morning, Sophie looked as if she had barely slept, so Becky had volunteered to go and make some tea and toast while Tom started the questioning. He had watched Sophie as she walked towards one of the two sofas in the living room and lowered herself gingerly on to the cushions. It was clear that her leg was giving her hell.

‘Why did Robert Brookes break into your house and hurt you, Sophie? What did he want?’

‘Probably the same as you lot want. He wanted to know where Liv is, and why I was in Anglesey, not her. He wanted to know whose children I had with me – but they’re irrelevant. There was no way I was telling him, because fuck knows what he would have done next. Probably gone after them – as if they’d know anything. They weren’t Liv’s children, and that’s all he needed to know. She’s scared to let those kids out of her sight, so she wouldn’t even have trusted me with them in case he had something plotted.’

‘What do you mean, “something plotted”?’ Tom thought it was a very odd choice of phrase.

‘You know bugger all about Robert Brookes, do you?’ Sophie’s nose flared and her top lip curled as she shook her head. ‘He’s the most manipulative, controlling, fucked-up person I’ve ever met. And always was, if you ask me. A real piece of work.’

The door from the hall was nudged open, and Becky came in bearing a tray.

‘Let’s get back to why you were pretending to be Olivia, shall we.’ Tom had no doubt that Sophie had some strong words to say about Robert, but for now he wanted facts.

‘She needed to get away. She wanted to be somewhere he knew nothing about. She was setting up her escape route, and I was only too happy to help her. Nobody was ever supposed to find out that it was me in Anglesey. I guess I’ve screwed that up big time.’

‘What was she afraid of, Sophie? What did she think Robert was going to do to her?’ Becky asked as she placed the tea and toast on a small table close to Sophie.

‘What do you think? Look, guys, she wanted to leave him, but Robert is mental. There’s no way he would ever let Liv go. Never, ever. So I was helping her. I will always help her, and I pray to God he never finds her.’

‘So where is Olivia now?’ Tom asked. ‘Where is this hidey-hole she’s found?’

Sophie shook her head. ‘I told you last night. I honestly don’t know. She would never tell me. Just in case Robert tried to get it out of me, I suppose. Not that I’d ever have told him. I’ve dealt with bigger bullies than him.’

Sophie sat back and folded her arms. Becky gave an exasperated sigh.

‘You must know
something
, Sophie. For God’s sake. We just want to find her – make sure that she and the children are safe.’

‘I’ve told you; I don’t
know
where she is. The arrangement in the past has always been that I cover for her during the holiday, and she’s always back home at the end of the week. This time was different. This time, I knew she was never coming back. We usually have a handover meeting – when I give back the debit card I have to use so Robert can see some activity on it, the bill from the guest house, that sort of thing – but not this time. And she was adamant that I had to know as little as possible. She wouldn’t let me help her unless I agreed to that.’

Tom looked at Becky. They were getting nowhere fast. Either she really didn’t know, or she was a bloody good actress. Given her background, it could be either and he couldn’t call it.

‘And have you heard from her?’ Tom asked.

‘No, and I’m worried sick. If Robert got wind of what she planned, anything could have happened to her.’

Tom’s thoughts exactly.

‘Tell me about Dan. When did he get back in touch?’

Sophie shook her head slightly. ‘I can’t remember precisely. Some time last year, I think.’

‘Why did he go in the first place? Do you know?’ he asked.

Sophie shuffled around on the sofa, pulling a face tight with pain as she tried to make herself more comfortable. ‘I know some of it. It was to do with his brother, Samir. I don’t know all of it, but I know that much. Samir came over for a visit to try to persuade Dan to return to Iran. Dan refused and things seemed to settle down. Then Liv was pregnant, so he couldn’t leave even if his feelings of family guilt had got the better of him. But something happened between Dan and Liv – she told him something about Samir. And the next day Dan was gone.’

‘So where is he now?’ Becky asked. ‘We need to speak to him. I’ve tried the mobile number you gave me, but it seems to be switched off.’

‘Your guess is as good as mine. He came to find me in Anglesey. I told him Liv was trying to work out what to do for the best, but she had to think of the children. Dan said he’d had enough of it all. He was going to have it out with Robert – tell him to let Liv go.’

‘How did Dan plan to arrange this confrontation with Robert?’ Tom didn’t like the sound of this.

Sophie shut her eyes for a moment and dropped her head to her chest. ‘That was my fault too. I knew where Robert was staying in Newcastle. Liv always told me where he was in case of an accident or something, particularly because she wasn’t where she was supposed to be. I gave Dan the number of the hotel, and he called him. He said he was going to ask Robert to meet him at the house – I can’t remember the details. One night last week, I guess.’

‘Did he get through to him?’

Sophie nodded.

‘What did Robert say?

Sophie gave a sigh of exasperation, rather exaggerated in Tom’s view. Whether it was at their questions, or at Dan’s insistence on meeting Robert, he couldn’t quite be sure.

‘I don’t know. I thought Dan was being stupid. I wanted no part of it. He was going to tell me, but I was half asleep and I just put my head under the pillow and told him to fuck off.’

Sophie lifted her shoulders and held out her hands, palms uppermost. Her nonchalance and apparent lack of interest didn’t ring true with Tom, but at least they could check with the hotel to see if Robert received any calls.

‘Do you know what time he made the call, Sophie?’

‘It was late, I know that. But he used my phone because his battery was flat, so you can check the recent calls if you like. I never delete anything. My phone’s in my bag – have a look.’

Sophie pointed to where her bag was lying on the floor and Tom picked it up to pass it to her, but she just waved her arm around in a gesture which he took to mean ‘just get the bloody thing out of my bag’. So he did.

He knew Dan was at the guest house a week last Tuesday, so with a nod from Sophie he started to scroll through her calls. The code for Newcastle was 0191 and he quickly found what he hoped was the correct number. He made a note of it and replaced the phone in Sophie’s bag.

As he’d scrolled through, he had been hoping to see the name ‘Liv’ come up, but he was out of luck.

‘Thanks for your help,’ Tom said. ‘If you think of anything else, just give me or Becky a call please.’ Tom handed over his card as he stood up, then paused. ‘Just one last question. You seem to have Robert Brookes’ measure. What do you think he’s going to do next?’

‘He’s going to try to find her, and I don’t think he will ever give up until he does. Have you ever looked obsession in the face, Chief Inspector? Strip away the mask of normality, and it’s a hideous, contorted serpent that lurks beneath the skin, writhing with frustration until the object of its desire is under its control.’