The Doll's House - [38]

64

Sanderson was on to her the minute Helen entered the incident room. Moments later, they were camped in Helen’s office with the blinds down and the door firmly shut.

‘Sorry for the amateur dramatics,’ Sanderson said in reference to the closed blinds. ‘But I thought you ought to see this.’

She passed a file across the table, which contained four sheets of paper – all of them with a woman’s photo attached to the top right-hand corner.

‘I’ve spent the last twenty-four hours going over the local missing person’s registers and liaising with the relevant agencies. And it’s thrown up four possibles.’

Helen kept her expression neutral, but she didn’t like the sound of that number.

‘They all have the right look – dark hair, blue eyes – all live alone, are low-income and have been missing for some time. Two of them – Anna Styles and Debby Meeks – seem to have vanished completely, no communication of any kind. The other two – Roisin Murphy and Isobel Lansley – send the occasional text or tweet.’

‘How occasional?’

‘Not very often, but always at virtually identical times.’

‘Before their mobile signal goes off again?’

‘Exactly,’ Sanderson replied nodding, her expression sombre now.

‘Do the timings of the communications tally with those “sent” by Ruby and Pippa?’

‘Yes. They’re a perfect match.’

Helen looked at their pictures – Roisin was a single mum, studded with piercings, rough around the edges, but with stunning aquamarine eyes, while Isobel was a very different kettle of fish. Her eyes were equally striking, but they were hidden behind a long black fringe. Isobel’s gaze was sidelong, as if she was unkeen to be photographed at all. Helen exhaled long and hard, suddenly struck by the fact that she might already be looking at the faces of two corpses.

She was on her feet now and marching to the door.

‘I’ll take full responsibility for pursuing this line of investigation,’ she said over her shoulder. There was no time to wait, no time for indecision, and Helen knew exactly what had to be done.

65

He was already sitting on the bed when she awoke. Ruby sat upright with a start, freaked out to find him staring at her.

‘You’ve had a rough night,’ he said sympathetically.

He was right. Ruby had spent a sleepless night, kept awake by hope, but also by fear. Her captor’s obvious desire for her still haunted her waking thoughts.

‘I was cold,’ she lied, pulling the sheets up around her.

‘I’ll get you some extra blankets,’ he continued, ‘and I will try and pick up those books for you today.’

‘Thank you,’ she replied, earning a smile in response. ‘If you were feeling kind, there are a couple of other things you could get for me too,’ Ruby went on, as casually as she could.

Immediately, a frown passed across his face. Was he suspicious? Did he sniff trouble? Keeping her expression as meek as possible, Ruby continued. ‘I would really like some make-up. I would love a hairbrush, some lipstick, some eyelash curlers and, if you don’t mind buying it, some nail polish.’

He looked at her, saying nothing.

‘I just want to look nice for you. And I think I deserve it, don’t you?’

Another long, painful pause, then he finally broke into a broad smile.

‘Were you nervous about asking for these things?’

Ruby looked at her shoes, fearful her expression would betray her.

‘There’s no need to be. I don’t mind it when you’re assertive. It’s more like the old you.’

He rose at this point.

‘I’ll get those things for you. You’ll… you’ll look pretty as a picture.’

With that, he departed. As soon as he’d gone, Ruby sank back down on the bed. It had cost her her last remaining ounce of composure to play her part, but it had succeeded beyond her wildest dreams. She had expected more suspicion, more resistance, but actually he had played right into her hands.

The first phase of her plan was complete.

66

‘This is fucking out of order and I will not stand for it.’

Ceri Harwood seldom swore. It was strangely enjoyable, watching her superior lose her cool and Helen privately resolved to provoke her more often.

‘DI Grace knows the chain of command,’ the incandescent Harwood continued. ‘She knows she should have come to me first.’

Chief Constable Stephen Fisher nodded, before turning his attention to Helen.

‘Would you care to explain to me why you didn’t, DI Grace?’

Because Harwood would have told me to go jump in a lake, Helen thought, but swallowed that down. Her decision to go direct to Harwood’s superior was deliberate – a calculated gamble.

‘Detective Superintendent Harwood and I have already had this discussion and she’s made her feelings clear -’

‘So why are we having it again?’ Fisher interrupted.

‘Because the situation has changed,’ Helen replied. ‘Further investigation -’

‘Investigation that was not authorized,’ Harwood interrupted.

‘Further investigation has revealed a number of potential victims,’ Helen continued. ‘I have always believed that Pippa’s killer had the potential to be a serial offender and the evidence now points that way.’

‘Evidence?’ Harwood queried, witheringly.

‘Roisin Murphy and Isobel Lansley. Two young women with the same look, the same profile, who’ve been missing for over a year and who text and tweet