Watch Me. Angela Clarke

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      ‘Aye, I wondered that.’ Both of them kept their eyes forward, as if they were in a covert investigation – undercover in their own office. ‘Us all being sent the message, it feels wrong.’

      Nasreen girded herself to say the name of the first victim, not to let it carry any other significance. It was a sad coincidence she was Gemma’s younger sister. That’s all. ‘Are we sure the other girl – Chloe Strofton – took her own life?’

      The investigating force couldn’t have known a second suicide note would be sent via Snapchat and that a second girl would soon be missing. Nasreen thought about the messages, the public nature of circulating the notes on the app. The infamy that was now spreading online.

      ‘The coroner declared she did,’ Chips said.

      ‘I’d like to take a look at the case notes anyway – see if anything jumps out?’ Chips nodded his agreement. Two wasn’t a pattern. They could simply be looking at a copycat suicide, in which case the priority would be to find Lottie before she harmed herself. Would Lottie also copy the method Chloe had used to take her life? She wasn’t looking forward to reading how Chloe had died, but she had to do it. The press was good about keeping details out of the public domain, especially when minors were involved, but if Chloe’s suicide note had ended up on social media, then what other information might also have been leaked?

      Saunders hung up and grabbed a ringing phone before the DCI could, his movements strong and swift. ‘Saunders speaking.’ He pulled his pad close to write notes. News. She froze, as if taking another step might break the fragile safety net that protected you before you knew the truth. ‘Yes. I see,’ Saunders was saying. ‘And can you confirm where that was?’ That? A deliberately innocuous word. Her stomach contracted. Please don’t be a body. Burgone was gripping his desk with both hands. Green kept her eyes down.

      ‘Yes.’ Saunders’s tapping foot betrayed his anxiety. ‘Let me know when the lab have the results. Rush job. Orders from the top: this one’s priority. Any issues and they answer to me.’ His pen vibrated across the page. ‘Yes. Thanks.’ Laying his pen down, he carefully replaced the receiver on the cradle. He turned to face them slowly, resting the tips of his overlong fingers together. It felt like the room was holding its breath. His eyes met Burgone’s gaze. ‘A top matching the description of the one we believe Lottie was wearing when she left her flat this morning has been found on West Grove Lane.’

      ‘Does it have her initials on it – LB?’ Hope sounded in Burgone’s voice.

       Say no.

      ‘Yes. It looks like it is her hoodie.’ Saunders flexed his fingers, giving them time to absorb the words. Nasreen caught Green’s eye. Her face had grown paler under her freckles. ‘There are also signs of a struggle where the top was found. The SOCOs are on their way to the scene now. We’ll confirm if it’s Lottie’s and see if we can lift any other DNA from it.’

      ‘A struggle?’ the DCI repeated.

      Chips was leaning against the incident board, his thick arms folded over his chest, a troubled look rumpling his fleshy features.

      ‘There are scuff marks on the ground,’ Saunders said. ‘And the top has been partially torn.’

      The words were out before Nasreen could stop them. ‘So she’s been abducted?’ Saunders shot her a look of disgust, and Nasreen didn’t dare look at Burgone.

      ‘We don’t have enough to assume that yet.’ Chips’s maturity lent his words a much-needed level of reassurance. ‘But we can’t rule it out either. Let’s find out if there’s any cameras on West Grove Lane. See what the door-to-door teams turn up.’

      Saunders nodded; Nasreen did too. Having things to do, a structure, helped.

      ‘Cudmore, look at the other lass’s file: see if you can find any link between the two girls.’ He was authorising their earlier conversation, making it open. Chips’s tone softened to talk to Burgone. ‘Might Lottie know Chloe Strofton, guv?’

      Burgone looked startled, as if he’d forgotten they could see him there. ‘Not that I know of. The girl was schooled locally in Hertfordshire. I can’t see how their paths would have crossed. But they could’ve met online?’

      Social media had changed the way people socialised: your pool was no longer restricted to people you met in real life. The job had made Nasreen wary: she’d closed the scant accounts she’d had the day she started at the College of Policing. She couldn’t imagine meeting up with someone she’d met online, but she knew plenty of people did. Especially those her age and younger. Perhaps Lottie and Chloe had met?

      ‘If Lottie’s internet-famous, then we have other motives to consider,’ Saunders said. ‘Let’s check if there was anyone acting odd online, as well as looking for potential links to the Chloe Strofton case. Someone else may have borrowed her Snapchat idea.’

      Burgone’s face was pained. Chips rested a hand on his shoulder. ‘Why don’t you get some air, lad? Keep you clear headed, hey?’ More than colleagues who’d worked together for a number of years, they were friends. This hurt Chips as much as it did the DCI. Nasreen turned her attention to the paperwork on her desk to give them privacy, not looking up as Burgone left the room, but feeling his every anguished step. It was just gone 10.30 a.m. Lottie had been taken against her will. They had twenty-three hours to find her: the clock was ticking.

       Chapter 5

       Wednesday 16 March

      10:35

      T – 22 hrs 55 mins

      Opening the file, Nasreen sharply inhaled: there was Chloe Strofton. If there had been any doubt she was the younger sister of Nasreen’s old school friend, it was gone now. The smiling selfie, taken in happier times, showed that pretty Chloe had the same blue eyes and pinched chin of her older sibling. But instead of the curly, mousey hair that Gemma had, Chloe’s was long and wavy, streaked with blonde highlights. Now would be the time to mention she knew the family – or used to know the family. Nasreen should say she recognised the girl from the photo. Keeping quiet about a personal connection to a case was a bad idea. What would her colleagues think if they knew she’d bullied a young girl till she’d tried to kill herself? They questioned and arrested teens regularly enough that her young age wouldn’t matter. They’d see her as a bully. She’d be lumped in with the likes of Morris. Nasty, tainted. She could imagine Chips’s revulsion. If he didn’t use the personal connection to the case to get her removed, Saunders would use her past, her failings, to get rid of her. He would drum her out of the team. And Burgone, the thought of him knowing what she’d done … Her skin prickled with the shame of it. It didn’t matter what she’d done since, or who she’d become: that one stupid, cruel mistake had tainted her. If she told them she knew the Stroftons, she’d be off the case. But if she kept quiet, she could find out who did this to their daughter. This was her chance to make it better.

      Sleeping with Burgone had been an error of judgement. She’d let her own desires get in the way of the job and look what had happened. Burgone had acted rashly too. They were both to blame, but she couldn’t help feel it was she who’d jeopardised their careers. That she was responsible for threatening СКАЧАТЬ