‘OK, stay there. Stay in your hole. But I will be back with something to prise you out of that well.’
She heard him walk away, up the steps, the creak of the hinges, the door thudding shut. Still she waited and waited and waited, trembling in her dark hiding place. She listened again extra-hard and there was no breathing. Slowly, stiff from sitting with her knees bent, she stood. The walls of the hole – he’d called it a well, hadn’t he? – were 6 inches either side of her shoulders. She leaned against it with her back, put her hands behind her and slowly pushed herself up, bracing with her feet, like a caterpillar. She fell back once because she thought she’d heard a noise. The walls were rough and it helped with purchase but the climbing made her legs and arms shake. When she was almost at the top, she knew he wasn’t there because he would have grabbed for her by now. With one eye on the trapdoor, she pushed up and out and sat with her legs dangling, looking around at what was left. There was food. Packets of ham and bread and crisps and coke.
She was hungry. She hoped Kirsty would be proud of her for hiding from the man. She hoped her mum wouldn’t be too upset. Blair pulled the duvet around her and wondered what day it was back home. Maybe it was still Sunday. Mum made a dinner on Sundays and let her and Kirsty watch films.
* * *
He sat in the car outside the building containing Blair’s cave, heart racing, livid. He thumped the steering wheel with his open palm hard half a dozen times until the pain stopped him.
She’d ruined it.
Ruined everything.
Now, it was too late. Far too bloody late to get her out, drive across the bridge and trek to the venue safely. He needed time to do that. And it would have meant rushing things. And he didn’t want to rush things. Not this time. Too much depended on it.
He hit the steering wheel again and glanced at the building. She may be out by now, laughing at him because she’d found the fucking well.
Little bitch.
He’d make her pay. He’d make her pay so much. But he couldn’t do it now. He exhaled, shut his eyes and tried to breathe easily, let the anger subside. He fired up the engine, drove out and headed back towards the city, letting the road take him while his mind contemplated and rationalised.
After a couple of miles, he’d calmed down enough to consider his options. He had appetites and sometimes they raged inside him. But he was also a pragmatist. So yes, he’d been thwarted but he also realised he had more time. She was safe. She was secure. So what if she hid in the fucking well? He already knew of a way of getting her out. A simple way. But one that needed a bit of preparation. It was hopeless trying to get it done today. He’d have to wait for another opportunity. He had work commitments after all and it was important he kept to his routine. But with a little bit of tweaking he might manage the end of the week. He would manage it.
Delicious anticipation ran through his veins like a drug, remembering her defiance in the well hole. Spirited, that one.
When he got back to where he lived in a sleepy street in a sleepy suburb, he backed his car in so that the boot faced the garage, got out and opened the garage door before popping the boot.
Inside it was loaded with equipment. In a closed tool box were his cameras, both compact video and digital SLR. They would need to go into the house. But the rest were things he stored in the garage: a roll of plastic sheeting, nylon rope, duct tape, a large rucksack and a smaller toolbox that did contain tools, but not of the kind any sane mechanic would ever have seen or used.
He placed them all carefully on a workbench at the rear of the garage, walked back out and locked the garage door. He removed the camera equipment from the boot, locked the car and entered the house, suddenly realising he was very hungry.
Eleven
Monday
The office was warm though it was only seven thirty on Monday morning. Anna still thought of it as ‘the’ office, despite the fact that the name on the door was hers. She had the windows open and the door ajar to try and encourage some air flow. But the atmosphere was sticky. She hoped the morning wouldn’t be.
The squad trooped in in turn. Khosa and Holder kept their conversation low, beyond earshot. Anna busied herself with summarising her impressions from her visit to Clevedon until Woakes arrived. He did at a minute after eight. No coffee this time, just him, full of it, all smiles and waves.
Anna stuck her head out. ‘A word please, Dave.’
‘Said I’d give Forensics a buzz. Are you OK with getting Morton’s DNA premiumed? I didn’t think you’d want to wait for a slot—’
‘Now.’
The smile didn’t falter, but it became childlike, inquisitive.
‘Shut the door,’ Anna said when he was inside.
Woakes sat and adjusted the creases in his suit trousers. ‘I waited for you on Saturday. Got a better offer, obviously.’ His tone was all cheeky chappy.
For a second Woakes’ remark threw Anna completely. She could have smiled, been deferential, joined in the joke, but all she truly wanted to do was give him a slap.
‘For God’s sake, this is neither the time nor the place,’ she said. ‘We will meet up—’
‘OK—’
Before he could finish, she added, ‘With the rest of the team.’
He did something with his mouth and shoulders that might have been a shrug. A ‘that’s up to you’ gesture she didn’t like much.
Anna went behind her desk and sat. ‘Why did you muscle in on Holder and Khosa?’
Woakes looked surprised. ‘Is this about the golf club?’
‘Why?’ repeated Anna.
‘I didn’t muscle in. I happened to be there and thought I’d lend a hand.’
‘OK. So, if I ask you who it was you were there with and I contact him or her, they’ll vouch, will they?’
‘Why would you want to do that?’
‘Because, sergeant, I haven’t worked you out yet, whereas those two out there have worked their arses off on this case. I trusted them to get a job done and now they’re pissed off with me because you stuck your nose in and worse, told them I’d sanctioned it.’
‘Well…’
‘No, not “well”. Did you or did you not say that?’
Woakes turned around and looked through the door at Holder. ‘Justin been telling stories, has he?’
‘He’s told me what I wanted to know in response to me asking him for an operational report. Why wouldn’t he tell me? It’s the truth, isn’t it?’
‘Listen—’
Anna tilted her head. ‘Don’t “listen” me, sergeant.’
Woakes dropped his chin and seemed to take stock. ‘What I was trying to say to him was that since we got the result, I thought you wouldn’t mind.’
‘It’s not the same thing at all, and you know it.’
Woakes sighed. ‘OK. Fair enough. You know your squad but I don’t. Not yet. So, I thought I’d go along and keep an eye on things. It just so happens I was in the right spot at the right time and made a call. A good call as it turned out since we got a result. And I don’t understand why it is I’m getting grief for it.’
‘You’re getting grief because I didn’t ask you to do that and you made it look like I did. It’s not the way we work here. And your brief is to get to grips with the Dawson case. Do I have to remind you that we have a chance of finding some real answers for her family? And last but not least, I really don’t like being used.’
‘K… Got it.’
‘Good. Here’s the icing on the cake. Peter Morton went AWOL after his shift yesterday. We think it’s because you were seen collecting samples at the golf club.’
Woakes sat, sullen and silent.
‘I’m waiting, Dave.’
Woakes crossed his legs. ‘Looks like I cocked up.’
Anna wrinkled her nose. ‘I think what you’re trying to say is that you made a big error of judgement which may have lost us the opportunity of apprehending a suspect in a historical rape case.’