‘Oh, don’t try that with me,’ Laura continued, opting for bluntness over gentle probing. ‘We know you were in Portswood the night she went missing. What did you do with her?’
Jackson was looking at his solicitor who in turn looked bewildered. ‘I don’t follow.’
‘Daisy Emerson. You remember? The fifteen-year-old that you and your pal snatched nearly two weeks ago. We have a witness who saw your mate speaking to her outside number forty-eight Abbotts Way. You know that address don’t you, Mr Jackson?’
‘What? No—’
‘Oh, so you’ve never lived at forty-eight Abbotts Way? You were listed as the registered tenant according to council tax records.’
‘What? Well, yes, I… I did live there once, but—’
‘When were you last at that residence, Mr Jackson?’
‘I-I-I don’t know.’
‘In the last month?’
‘What? No.’
‘Really, why were you in Portswood on the second of February, then?’
‘February second? I-I-I can’t remember where I was on that day.’
‘Your van was clocked on a traffic camera heading towards Portswood at nine p.m. on February second, why were you there?’
Jackson looked away, his eyes darting as he tried to access his long-term memory. ‘Um, I don’t know… I can’t remember.’
‘Where’s Daisy now, Mr Jackson?’
‘I don’t know. I don’t know who you’re talking about.’
‘Like you don’t know Petr Nowakowski and Maria Alexandrou? What did you do with their bodies, Mr Jackson?’
Jackson nodded at his solicitor to interrupt.
The solicitor removed and folded his glasses. ‘Detective, I don’t know where this new line of questioning has stemmed from, but unless you care to disclose your evidence, I will be instructing my client not to respond to any of these wild accusations.’
Laura ignored the solicitor, keeping her eyes firmly fixed on Jackson. ‘We found your stash of pornographic materials; we know the sort of thing that turns you on, Mr Jackson. It’s time for you to come clean and tell us where Daisy is.’
Jackson’s face contorted with desperate anguish, and Kate couldn’t keep the smile from growing across her face. They had him.
52
Kate’s eyes fell on the framed photograph of Chloe smiling back at her, and the breath caught in her chest. Snatching it up, she held the frame to her chest, clamping her eyes shut so Laura and Patel wouldn’t see the tears that were slowly building. It could have been her little girl out there.
But she couldn’t allow her own feelings to cloud the actions she was charged to undertake. Lowering the frame to the desk, and setting it at just the right angle, she turned to her two most loyal companions. ‘Whatever it takes. We get them. We get them both.’
Neither Laura nor Patel needed any further encouragement, both feeling the same emotional response to the possibility they’d been dreading since Daisy Emerson had been first reported missing.
Humberidge’s call couldn’t have come soon enough. ‘It’s Ismael Vardan, ma’am,’ he said breathlessly. ‘We’ve found an exchange of emails between the two of them going back several months.’
Kate called Laura and Patel over, switching the phone to loud speaker.
‘The technician managed to get into Jackson’s Hotmail account,’ Humberidge continued, ‘and it seems the two of them have been openly discussing shared fantasies. Some of it is pretty intense, but the crux is they’ve been planning a trip abroad where they can – and I’m quoting here – indulge our desires without fear of British law.’
‘Abroad where?’ Kate asked urgently.
‘They discuss several places: all outside the EU. Ma’am, there’s mention of Daisy too.’
Kate gripped the edge of the desk. ‘Go on.’
‘Well, it’s Jackson that mentions her first. It’s hard to judge the tone of the email at first, but three months ago he starts making references to that girl who likes you, and Vardan ignores the jibes to begin with, but then it must get to him as later he starts warning Jackson to stop. And then last Monday, Jackson asks whether Vardan is stashing Daisy somewhere.’
‘He mentions her by name?’
‘Yes, ma’am. It’s the first mention of Daisy but the email alludes to their previous discussions.’
‘What does Vardan say?’
‘That’s the last email, ma’am. Vardan has yet to reply, and from what the techie says, Jackson hasn’t accessed his emails since Thursday.’
Kate steadied her breathing. ‘Bring Vardan in now.’
‘Already on my way, ma’am.’
Kate disconnected the call, and looked over to Laura. ‘Go through HOLMES2 now. Who gave Vardan an alibi for this weekend?’
Laura rushed over to the computer and began to search, before calling over her shoulder. ‘Barnes spoke to his sister who confirmed he was at a family wedding in Leicester.’
‘You think she’s lying?’ Patel asked calmly.
Kate closed her eyes and focused. ‘We have Jackson in Portswood the night Daisy disappears, and we know he has access to the school and was familiar with the Abbotts Way address. If he was at the house with Vardan when she stopped… no, wait, neither Vardan nor Jackson fit the description of the man Georgie Barclay said was with Daisy.’
‘Plus, why would Jackson tease Vardan about Daisy’s disappearance if they were both at the house?’ Patel countered.
‘A third accomplice?’ Laura offered. ‘Someone we’re yet to come across? Or maybe Georgie made a mistake; it was dark by then.’
Kate’s eyes remained clamped shut. ‘Apart from the two crime scenes, we still don’t have anything to directly connect Jackson to Maria and Nowakowski. We hypothesised that he might have paid Maria for sex, but we have no proof, and that still doesn’t tie him to Nowakowski.’ She paused. ‘What do we know about Vardan? Can you pull that up next please, Laura? Is there anything to tie Nowakowski to Vardan?’
Laura obliged, and began to read. ‘Born in Leicester… graduated from university with a degree in English Literature, but then he spent a further year converting it to a PGCE… spent three years at a school in Gosport… then there were all those rumours and accusations… he was cleared and has been at St Bartholomew’s… this is his second year.’
Kate’s eyes flew open. ‘Wait, go back, which university did he graduate from?’
Laura reread the screen. ‘Degree in English Literature received at Leeds University.’
Kate sighed.
‘But,’ Laura continued, ‘his PGCE conversion was undertaken at Southampton University.’
‘What year?’
‘It was 2013,’ Laura said, clicking her fingers together. ‘The same year as our building inspector, Liam Phillips, graduated. I saw the date on his certificate on Saturday.’
‘Doesn’t mean they knew each other,’ Kate interjected.
‘That’s why we need to check whether their paths have crossed,’ Laura pressed, her eyes twinkling with excitement. ‘We can check university graduation records, student housing records, social media activity, and anything else that might establish a connection. We should cross match with everything we’ve found on Jackson too.’
Kate couldn’t argue, as the pieces seemed to fall into place, but it was one thing to speculate on links; proving they were real was a different challenge altogether.
* * *
A sudden burst of whistling was swiftly followed by Olly Quinlan breezing into the incident room. ‘She backs up his story,’ he said, hanging his jacket on the back of his chair.
‘Did you get her statement in writing?’ Kate checked.
He nodded, and lifted the sheets of paper into the air. ‘She’s given dates and specific locations they visited. She’s also provided her parents’ contact information for us to check with them. Apparently, her parents paid for them to go out for dinner on Friday, Saturday and Sunday night, which is why Jackson didn’t use his card at any point over the weekend. She was shocked when I told her he’d been arrested, and is adamant that we’ve made a huge mistake and that Jackson is really squeamish. She reckoned he nearly passed out once when she cut her finger while chopping onions.’