‘For who?’ asked Melanie.
‘Janelle and Lacey. I’m not talking about a Crimewatch reconstruction, but a press conference. National news. If we haven’t got the resources, let’s get the public working for us. Put their disappearances in their minds, have them on the lookout.’
‘Which means we open ourselves up to having another serial killer for the media to pounce on.’
‘I don’t want to mention serial killer, and I think there’s enough other crap happening in the media right now. People are more concerned with who is President of the USA. Will another bogeyman faze them?’ Melanie sat forward in her chair and laughed. Erika went on: ‘I know you’re taking a lot of shit from all quarters, but remember that part of being a police officer is preventing crime. Help me prevent this bastard from doing it again.’
‘Okay, okay, I’ll see what I can do.’
‘Thank you.’
‘By the way, Erika. Sparks’s funeral is next Thursday at 2 p.m. Thought you might like to know. St Michael’s Church in Greenwich.’
‘He was religious? I take it it’s a burial?’
Melanie nodded. ‘Yeah, he was Catholic. It’s looking to be well attended; lots of people seem to be asking for time off. You going?’
‘I’ll think about it,’ said Erika, averting her eyes from the patch of carpet in front of the desk. ‘One more thing. You haven’t heard from Commander Marsh?’
‘No. I’ve been briefing Acting Commander Mason; he’s been put in place for now.’
‘What do you mean “put in place”?’
‘Since Marsh has been suspended… You didn’t know?’
‘No. I’ve been trying to call him. Why has he been suspended?’
Melanie’s phone rang. ‘Sorry, I don’t know. I have to take this. Can you close the door on your way out?’
Erika came back out into the office, where, despite the late hour, it was still busy. So Marsh had been suspended; why hadn’t he told her? She pulled out her phone and tried him again, but the call went to voicemail.
Chapter Thirty-Two
It was Saturday night. Things had accelerated with Ella Wilkinson after Darryl spoke to her on the phone. Ella had believed she was talking to Harry Gordon, and had said she would loved for them to meet. He knew that her enthusiasm might be short-lived, and when she was enthusiastic, she would be easier to manipulate. He arranged to meet near where she lived, close to Angel in North London. It was a good location, packed with edgy bars and restaurants near a sprawl of residential houses. There were huge risks involved with being so central, but to Darryl it was all about perspective. He had manipulated the situation so that Ella believed she was the one in control; she’d friended him, she’d suggested they speak on the phone, and then she’d suggested that they meet… and meeting on her turf would make her even more relaxed.
At 7.40 p.m., Darryl turned into Weston Street, relieved to see it wasn’t busy. It was a quiet road, a few streets back from Angel tube station, and there was a cool indie bar at the end – just the kind of cool place someone sexy like Harry Gordon would take a first date. The snow was just starting to melt and he could hear the sound of the slush under the wheels of the car. He’d checked online where the major CCTV cameras were placed, and he had managed to avoid most of them. He hadn’t been able to avoid the Congestion Charge Zone cameras coming into London, but that only mattered if they were looking for him. Where he was due to meet Ella was clear of CCTV cameras for a few streets, and providing no one saw him grab her, he was home free.
He drove past the bar, which was on the corner of a main road and a quiet street of houses. Quite a few houses had their lights on, but this was a cold night, a cold Saturday night, and they had better things to do than peer out of their windows. He slowed when a taxi appeared in his rear-view mirror, and he pulled over to let it pass. The road was deserted again. He gripped the steering wheel with his leather-gloved hands, and took deep breaths.
He only had one chance to do this. He drove around the block a couple of times and then parked a hundred yards down from the bar, switching off his engine and lights. The bar was playing music, but it looked quiet. The smoked glass windows glowed red, and cast a hue over the snow-covered pavement. A bouncer was stationed outside in a huge coat and woolly hat, but he was absorbed in his phone.
The minutes ticked by, as Darryl sat in the dark. The car growing colder, his breath coming out in a stream of vapour, and then he saw her.
Ella Wilkinson appeared further down the street. She wore a long coat, boots and had a bag slung over her shoulder. Her long dark hair flowed behind her as she moved with purpose toward the bar. She wasn’t wearing a scarf or a hat; clearly, she wanted her body to be seen, appreciated.
He reached down to the ignition, started the car and pulled out, passing the bar where Ella stood waiting on the corner. His heart skipped a little. She came! She’s really there to meet me! he thought. Then he felt anger. She was there to meet Harry Gordon. He indicated and slowed, turning right into a side street, parking at the kerb. The entrance to the bar was now just around the corner, where soft red light was spilling out into the darkness and onto Ella waiting on the icy pavement. She wore a long fur coat (fake; he knew she was anti-fur), and had a small black-and-white handbag slinging from her shoulder. Her long hair spilled down her back. She shifted onto her other leg and checked her watch. Her striking beauty took his breath away, and he started to sweat despite the cold in the car.
A taxi came rattling round the corner and trundled past. He used the delay to reach into the glove compartment and pull out a map. Underneath was a square leather sap with white stitching. He felt its weight in his hand. When the taxi passed he checked the road. He was parked in a pool of shadows just a few yards down from the corner. There were no lights on in the houses either side.
He took a deep breath. It wasn’t too late… He could just go. His heart raced and he felt sick, but the adrenalin was pumping through him, and he looked back at Ella, waiting, for him. Keeping the sap under the map, he opened the door and got out.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Ella Wilkinson checked her watch. It was quarter past eight. Her date, Harry, had said he’d be here at eight. She was freezing cold, waiting on the pavement outside the bar, and it was eerily quiet. Behind her a tall, dark-haired bouncer was shifting on his feet in the doorway, absorbed in a game on his phone. A low hum of chatter, and the click-clack of pool balls floated over. She glanced round, and the bouncer looked her up and down, taking in her low-cut black top and skinny jeans. She turned away again, buttoning up her coat, a sense of unease growing inside her.