The Doll's House - [27]

‘I’m sorry I’m late. Blame Harwood.’

‘I usually do,’ Charlie replied, their shared antipathy for their station chief drawing a smile from her boss.

‘And I’m sorry to be so secretive, but what I’m about to ask you to do breaks all the rules and could land you and me in a serious amount of trouble.’

‘Sounds fun,’ Charlie said gamely, but was already a little unnerved by Helen’s manner.

‘If you want to say no – and you probably should – then that’s totally fine. But there’s no one else I can confide in.’

It had been a long time since Charlie had seen Helen like this. There was clearly a lot resting on this meeting. Helen didn’t keep her guessing, filling her in on her recent ‘discovery’ of her missing nephew and her subsequent clash with Harwood about her refusal to formally request the unredacted file. Charlie could already see where this was going.

‘I know it’s a lot to ask, but I don’t have any meaningful contacts in the Northamptonshire force, no one I can trust at least. I know this is completely irregular, but -’

Helen’s voice wavered slightly as she spoke, so Charlie put her out of her misery:

‘It’s ok, Helen, I know what you’re asking.’

Charlie’s oldest friend from police college had just taken a high-profile desk job with Northamptonshire police. DS Sally Mason was the keeper of the administrative gates up there – if anyone could lay their hands on the unredacted material, she could. But Charlie had no idea how she would react to such an outrageous request.

‘Let me mull it over,’ Charlie said.

‘That’s all I ask. If I could think of another way, I would. But… I need to know if he’s ok, Charlie.’

Helen left soon after, Charlie promising to be in touch. Truth be told, she already knew that she would do what Helen asked. Because she felt for her. Because it was the right thing to do in the circumstances. And perhaps – just a little bit – because it would be fun.

45

An hour later, Helen strode into the incident room. She was pleased to see that everyone was busy, the team finally finding its rhythm in the heat of battle. A major investigation had a way of forcing everyone to up their game, make connections and forge new ground together. It always gave Helen a quiet sense of satisfaction to observe it taking place.

Seeing that everyone was fully occupied, Helen seized the moment, pulling Sanderson aside. Marching her into the office would have excited people’s attention, so Helen guided her subtly to the water cooler and, lowering her voice, outlined her plans. For the second time that day she was committing an act of gross insubordination.

‘I need you to do a bit of digging – for my eyes only, right?’

‘Of course, boss, whatever you say.’

Helen had grown to trust Sanderson over the last couple of years. She wasn’t Charlie but she was the closest thing to her at present.

‘I think our perpetrator will have abducted – or attempted to abduct – other girls during the last five years or so. Someone who’s this committed, this driven, isn’t going to fall in and out of obsession. He’ll be compelled to stalk, abduct or kill.’

Sanderson nodded, so Helen continued.

‘Detective Superintendent Harwood isn’t minded to agree, hence the need for discretion. Choose your moments, but I want you to go through the crime reports on the PNC, as well as trawling the missing persons lists for Southampton, Portsmouth, Bournemouth looking for young women who might fit our profile. Limit yourself to single girls, who are isolated and vulnerable, perhaps just out of a relationship. They probably live alone, are not massively well-off and for now let’s assume they have the same look – black hair, blue eyes. Do it discreetly, but do it quickly. I hope I’m wrong, but if this guy is a serial predator, I want to know. Any crime – or attempted crime – might help us find him. Ok?’

Sanderson nodded and hurried off to begin her task. Helen watched her go. She hoped she was doing the right thing trusting her, she was skating on very thin ice with Harwood already.

Helen was so engrossed in her thoughts, that she didn’t notice DC Lucas approach.

‘Good news, Ma’am.’

Helen turned, surprised by her sudden appearance.

‘Nathan Price is on the move.’

46

The van sped along the road, its tyres spitting rainwater up off the slick surface. It had been raining solidly for an hour now and the storm showed no sign of relenting. Normally Helen would have cursed such weather, but not today. It reduced driver visibility, making it easier to tail the van unnoticed.

The windscreen wipers swept back and forth, beating out the rhythm of Helen’s anxiety. Nathan Price had been driving for forty minutes with no sign of stopping. Where was he heading? He had done a couple of laps of the ring road, presumably to throw off anyone following him. If that was the purpose, he had signally failed. The three unmarked police cars were still on his tail, changing positions at intervals to avoid detection.

The van headed south now through Northam and Itchen, leaving behind prosperity and aspiration. The van was crawling along and Helen had to drop her speed to avoid giving herself away. They were in Woolston now. What had once been an affluent pre-war suburb was now a forgotten wasteland – never having recovered from the brutal bombing it sustained during the Second World War. The rickety houses round here had been left to moulder and were inhabited now by squatters, illegal immigrants and petty criminals. It was a nasty, forgotten place.