The Taken Girls: An absolutely gripping crime thriller full of mystery and suspense. G Sanders D

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      ‘I’m not sorry to be moving. I should’ve made that clear to my colleagues. I’ve known them for years. Couldn’t bring myself to make them think I was pleased to get out.’

      ‘Why d’you want to go? You’re settled here.’

      Saunders took another sip of malt. ‘Nobody else knows but you deserve to. You’ll keep it quiet?’

      Ed nodded.

      ‘I may be settled in the job but I want out. Your transfer to Canterbury was my ticket. The Force is not good for relationships. Many marriages don’t survive. Mine’s one. Ellen, my wife, resented the time I spent at work. A year after our youngest went to university she asked for a divorce. I hadn’t noticed anything, but she’d been seeing someone for months. I can’t wait to get away.’

      ‘I’m sorry.’

      ‘Aye, it’s a bit late for me to be starting over. Maidstone’s more of a desk job. Who knows, maybe I’ll meet someone new in the office.’

      ‘What about your children?’

      ‘They’ve moved out. We haven’t told them yet. I’m sure I’ll continue to see them.’

      Saunders finished his drink and stood up.

      ‘That’s enough melancholy for one night.’

      Ed left her drink unfinished and went with him to the street.

      Watching her colleague walk towards Westgate Towers, Ed’s thoughts turned to the missing girl. When on a case, the victim barely left her head and some memories remained long after the case was closed. To break her train of thought, Ed turned back into the hotel. Her immediate priority was to get settled in Canterbury. She needed somewhere to live and tomorrow she’d make a start with the viewings. Before that she had something else in mind.

      Walking through the hotel lobby, Ed went to retrieve her unfinished drink. When standing to accompany Saunders to the street, she’d recognized somebody sitting at the bar. Drink in hand, she slipped onto the adjacent barstool.

      ‘Do you mind if I take one of your cheese straws? Gino seems to have forgotten mine.’

      Verity Shaw turned with her habitual half-smile and nudged the bowl towards Ed.

      ‘I was hoping you’d come back to finish your vodka tonic.’

      And I was hoping you’d still be here, thought Ed. She took a cheese straw but remained silent.

      With a look of candour, Verity caught her eye. ‘I lied last time we met.’ She paused, holding Ed’s gaze. ‘Sometimes I come here for a nightcap. Will you join me?’

      ‘I’m not sure I should have another vodka.’

      ‘Me neither,’ said Verity whose drink looked identical to Ed’s. ‘Let’s celebrate your new job with something less alcoholic. Two glasses of champagne and then we’ll call it a night?’

      ‘Sounds good to me.’

      Ed made to signal the barman but Verity stayed her hand.

      ‘My treat.’

      Ed allowed herself to be treated and the events of the day receded. They talked easily and it crossed Ed’s mind that she’d never had a female friend before, someone with whom she could relax. The two glasses of champagne became two glasses each before they called it a night.

      Standing on the pavement outside the hotel, Verity said, ‘Now you’ve settled in, give me a call should you fancy a break from the Station. We could meet at Deakin’s for a coffee.’

      ‘Thanks, I’d like that.’

      The half-smile returned to Verity’s face. Ed raised a hand in farewell and watched her new friend walk into the night.

       16

      Lucy hugged herself for warmth and companionship. She’d been woken by foxes. Their high-pitched shrieks, like a distressed child, were disturbing when she was in her own bed. Here, alone without light in an isolated building, the noises were terrifying. The cold shiver, which was no more than a brief sensation at home, persisted and grew until her body shook uncontrollably.

      She’d tried not to think about it, to bar it from her mind, but Lucy knew from many news reports that girls reported missing were usually found dead. She’d been taken from the street, she was missing and she was completely at her kidnapper’s mercy. Much though she wanted to believe his assurances that he would set her free, deep down she couldn’t escape the thought that she would die. Whatever he had taken her for, eventually he would kill her. She struggled to overcome the feeling of utter helplessness. Only by staying alert would she have any chance of ensuring her survival.

      As light began seeping through the high windows, Lucy used the pail and washed. When he arrived she was listening to music but she heard him knock and call out because his warning coincided with the end of a track. The sound of the outer door was followed by a brief silence before he came into sight and the strange voice asked how she was feeling.

      ‘I want to go home. You say you’re in control, so why won’t you let me go?’

      ‘That’s my business. You’ll stay until I’m ready to let you go but, remember, you’ve nothing to worry about. I’ve promised to release you and I keep my promises.’

      He approached the wire partition.

      ‘Come here and put your wrist close to the slot so that I can unlock the handcuff.’

      Lucy did as she was told.

      ‘There … that should feel better. Get some exercise while I make breakfast. Before we eat I’ll want you to put the handcuff back on and stand here by the slot so that I can lock it.’

      ‘And if I don’t?’

      ‘That wouldn’t be wise. You’ll have no breakfast and nothing to eat or drink until the handcuff’s back on.’

      After they’d eaten, he was in no hurry so he left Lucy on the bed listening to music and went to his private room. Inside there was a slight smell of preservative. He felt comfortable here. All was ordered, everything in its place. He let his eyes wander over the gleaming bottles and jars. This collection was more important than the one he’d had when he was a boy. Things were different then. His thoughts drifted back to when he was a child, a time he remembered clearly, a time he would never allow himself to forget.

      In his mind he sees the room, or rather he doesn’t see the room. He’s in the room but he can’t see it because it’s dark. The curtains are drawn and it’s so black that if he held his hand in front of his eyes he wouldn’t see it. But he doesn’t do that. It’s cold. In the morning his breath will have frozen on the window pane. He keeps his hand under the scratchy blanket, breathing the cold air in through his nose and out through his mouth into the bed. The warmth never reaches his feet but the rhythmic breathing and self-induced shivering distract from the cold. He’s not afraid. Unlike some children he СКАЧАТЬ