‘I’ll get copies up to you right away.’
‘If you’re ever up at the Fringe, give us a bell.’
Anna woke her computer. The email from Danaher was already there, forwarded on by Varga. She opened it and scanned the message. The image was included as an attachment. Anna watched it develop in front of her eyes, her blood running cold as the screen filled from top to bottom. Blair in some kind of hole in the ground, looking up, her eyes huge and desperate. Underneath, the typed letters PPV and now extra words, a tilt at a more modern world: #crypto, #captured, #pogo. But Anna forced her gaze away from Blair to her surroundings. A grey cement floor, as with Rosie. And, more importantly, in the top right-hand corner of the photograph, at the edge of the frame, the side of a bucket. Black plastic. Just like in Rosie’s photograph.
She sat back. Was it the exact same space? It was possible. Very possible. How could Danaher not have seen this? But then Anna saw it from Danaher’s angle. Black plastic buckets were ubiquitous, sold in thousands of supermarkets and household goods stores. Even if it was the same bucket, so what? Often, organised rings had a safe house. Somewhere unnoticed where they could secrete and indulge, perpetrate their crimes. A shiver ran through her. It did not bear thinking about. But she had to.
Anna looked out at the daylight beyond the window, giving her thoughts room to move around. Danaher was right: the MO in the Blair case was not the same as what happened to Rosie and not the same as had happened to the others on Hawley’s list. But she also knew that sex offenders re-offended. And that put Hawley’s theory in a whole new light. Something else Danaher said pushed its way through to the surface. Blair had been alive when the photo was taken.
What if she was still alive in the space with the black bucket?
A hundred thoughts cascaded through her brain, all vying for attention. She sat still, letting them settle, waiting for the important ones to float to the top of the pile.
She looked up as Woakes sauntered into the squad room. It annoyed her. He’d become an unnecessary distraction from her process. She saw him ask a question, Khosa answering, Holder not looking up from his PC. Woakes frowning, turning his eyes towards her.
Anna got up and opened her door.
‘Dave, a word.’
Woakes walked in, unsmiling, defiant. He sat, so did Anna. But not before closing the door with a touch more force than was necessary. She waited several reasonable seconds for a benefit-of-the-doubt beat. Woakes said nothing.
‘Anything useful from the original SIO?’
‘Nada.’
Anna nodded. She got up and walked into the squad room. ‘Operational briefing, people. Trisha, I’ve sent you an image. Can you get it printed off for me, please?’
Everyone gathered around the whiteboard. Anna did all the talking. ‘I’ve just had Edinburgh on the phone. They’ve found an image of Blair Smeaton which bears similarities to the one of Rosie Dawson.’
Trisha came through and handed over a 10 by 6 print. Anna stuck it to the board. ‘It has the PPV caption as well.’ She tapped the photo. ‘#crypto we know about; #pogo is anyone’s guess. Maybe it’s what he calls himself. But here’s the thing. The bucket in this corner looks identical to the one in Rosie’s image.’
‘Oh my God,’ Khosa said. ‘Does this mean Hawley’s right?’
Woakes said, ‘Oh, come on. It’s a black bucket. There’s nothing here to prove Hawley’s theory’s correct.’
‘No, I agree and so do the team up in Edinburgh,’ Anna said. But it wasn’t what she believed. Her gut was telling her something altogether different, but she let the team air their doubts. She turned to look at the second board, posted with images of Hawley’s victim list.
‘Edinburgh are also looking at the possibility the images are linked. That we might be looking at a paedophile ring.’ She threw it out there, waiting for someone to bite.
‘But you don’t?’ Khosa asked.
Anna paused before saying, ‘What if it is the same bucket? The same place. What if it is, despite the different MOs, the same man? Someone who’s deliberately chosen to vary his method to confuse us?’
No one spoke.
‘Let it simmer while I speak to the super about… things.’
* * *
Rainsford was in his show-home office. He looked up and read her expression.
‘Problems?’
She told him about the Morton fiasco and then explained about Hawley and didn’t pull any punches about whose fault this was.
‘I think I need a word with Sergeant Woakes,’ Rainsford said.
Anna nodded. ‘But there is some good news, sir.’
‘Is there?’
She’d un-stuck the images of Rosie and Blair from the whiteboard and laid them now on Rainsford’s desk while she explained the reasoning behind the link between them.
He listened without interruption, his eyes on the prints until she’d finished. When he looked up they were animated. ‘This could be a major breakthrough. And not only for your cold case.’
Anna nodded. ‘Police Scotland and our people are looking for other images.’
‘But there’s something else brewing, isn’t there?’
Anna smiled. Rainsford could read her like a book.
‘Hawley, sir. I can’t help thinking he’s on to something. He’s been very cooperative.’
‘Or he’s been caught out. How kosher is he?’
Anna shrugged. ‘Difficult to say. Either way, sir, I think he may still be useful.’
‘What are you suggesting? A warrant? A fresh look at his computers and ISP history?’
‘It’s a thought. It might come to that. And we need to eliminate him from involvement on the day Blair Smeaton went missing. I can’t believe he was anywhere near, and I’ve a feeling he’d offer us his laptop if we asked for it. But I’d prefer the soft approach for now. If he knows anything, we won’t get him to give it up by using thumbscrews the Dave Woakes way. If there is something to Hawley’s theory, it’s something I need to understand a little better. How would any of these kids’ illnesses be of use to a perpetrator?’
Rainsford kept his gaze steady. ‘Be careful, Anna. You know how plausible these bastards can be.’
The cursing took her by surprise. Not because of the word itself, but by how heartfelt it had been. She knew instantly what he was alluding to. Both she and Holder had been taken in by Charles Willis, the Woodsman. He’d been friendly and approachable and had almost ended up killing her.
‘Once bitten, sir,’ Anna said with an acerbic smile.
Rainsford nodded and sat back, pensive. After a while, he handed the images back to Anna. ‘How was your visit to Shaw?’
Anna shrugged. ‘I’ll have the report on your desk by tomorrow, sir. He’s still adamant he didn’t attack Tanya Cromer. Claims he fought off Petran and that Petran’s real name is Krastev. He’s offered to show me another one of Krastev’s victims, this time in Sussex.’
Rainsford stayed silent for a moment but then asked, ‘Do you want me to set it up?’
Anna nodded. ‘I thought we’d get Krastev’s ID confirmed first.’
Rainsford nodded. ‘Send Woakes in.’
Anna went back to the office. On her way she paused at where Woakes was sitting at his desk.
‘Dave, the super wants to see you.’
‘Me?’
Anna nodded. Either he was good at feigning surprise, or it was genuine, in which case she was prepared to label him a complete sociopath there and then.
Sighing, he pushed his chair away, grabbed his jacket and headed for Rainsford’s office.
Anna waited until he’d left the room before entering her office.
Trisha had left a note on her desk.
Witness Kevin Starkey rang, left number. Free now for two hours.
Anna dialled the number.
‘Mr Starkey, this is Detective Inspector Gwynne from Avon and Somerset. Thanks for ringing back.’
The slight delay and static hum told her he was in a car. ‘Yes, inspector, what can I do for you?’