‘You okay, Tracy?’
Tracy breathed in deeply through her nose and shook her head. She looked at Jeanie, her face beginning to crumple again. She fought back the tears. The glass of wine in her hand was shaking.
‘He phoned again – the man who has Danielle: Hawk.’
‘Did he?’ Jeanie was shocked that Tracy hadn’t said earlier but then maybe there hadn’t been chance. ‘When you were out?’ Tracy nodded. ‘What did he say?’
‘He said I had a lesson to learn. So did Danielle.’ Jeanie waited for her to continue. Tracy walked across with her glass of wine and sat on the sofa next to Jeanie. ‘I got angry. I called him a sick bastard. I heard Danielle screaming in the background. She paid for what I said. Maybe the attack – Jackson and you – you could have both been killed and it would have been all my fault.’
Jeanie watched Tracy as she tried not to cry but her shoulders shook. She put her glass down. Jeanie reached out and hugged her.
‘No, Tracy. He’s a madman. You didn’t cause him to hurt Danielle. You did what comes un-naturally to you. You blew your top. Who knows whether it will have had a good or bad effect but it won’t have altered his path. I’ll listen to the conversation in a minute on my way home. For now try and forget about it, please. We’re okay. Jackson and I are here and safe. Did you see Steve?’
Tracy looked embarrassed. She shook her head, reached across and picked up her wine.
‘He was too busy. I’ll talk to him later when he phones.’
Jeanie smiled but she kept her eyes on Tracy.
‘You are coping well, you know, Tracy? Much better than most people could. You’re a lot tougher than you think. You will get through all this.’
‘But nothing will ever be the same,’ Tracy interrupted.
‘No.’ Jeanie shook her head. ‘Nothing will.’
‘Is he going to kill us?’
Jeanie shook her head.
Chapter 41
Carter drove through the evening rush hour and spent an hour nose to tail through busy streets. He cut down all the side streets he knew but ended up snagged in bottlenecks. His father had been a cabbie, retired only three years ago. It was when he retired all his health problems came, thought Carter sadly. His father had loved the cabbie lifestyle, meeting up with his mates, starting the day with a cup of strong tea and a bacon sandwich at five in the morning at a cabman shelter.
At just past nine, Carter arrived at Gerald Foster’s house; the van was parked there; there was a large scratch, down to metal on the driver’s side. There were no lights on in the house. He walked around to the side of the property, jumped up and held onto the top of the side gate as he peered over into the back garden. He saw a light flickering through the bare branches of the trees at the end of the garden. Someone was working in the shed. Carter jumped back down and brushed down his coat. He cursed to himself. If there was one thing he hated it was getting his clothes dirty. He shook his head and steeled himself as he leapt once more up to the top of the gate, gripped, pulled his weight up and swung his legs over. He paused before dropping quietly down to the ground the other side. Apart from the faint light from the shed, the garden was in total darkness, shadowed by large overbearing trees.
Carter crept down the side of the garden. He kept to the old row of overgrown shrubs for cover. He watched the lights from the shed window as he approached. There was a blackout blind pulled down over the window but a slight breeze inside the shed was lifting it and a bright light burned inside, dimming occasionally as someone passed between the light source and the window. Now as Carter got nearer he realized that it was much more than a shed. It was a substantial-looking outbuilding. It went far back into the trees and must have been sixteen feet long. There was heavy-duty electric wiring up the side of the shed. Whatever Foster did in there, he didn’t like it to be compromised by power cuts.
Carter walked around to the back of the shed, one careful step at a time. There was music coming from inside. The shed radiated warmth. He listened hard and heard the sound of someone planing wood. Carter tripped over one of the wires leading to the shed and just managed to stop himself from falling but not before he snapped the overhanging branch of the tree as he grabbed for it. Then the planing and the music stopped as someone had also paused to listen. Carter looked upwards and saw a camera watching him from the trunk of the nearest tree. He crouched beneath its range and dodged the trees as he moved towards the back of the stand of trees that encased the shed. He heard the sound of the shed door opening and footsteps coming over the frozen ground towards him. Carter set off towards the edge of the garden beyond the trees and doubled round until he came level with the open shed door and slipped inside.
Chapter 42
Jeanie left Tracy and decided to pay Steve Collins a visit and find out for herself what was going on. Tracy said he was too busy to see her that evening. Somehow it wasn’t sitting right with Jeanie. She drove to the hotel in King’s Cross where he was staying. She showed her badge to the receptionist who told her the room number but also said she’d find Mr Collins at the bar.
The smell of cheap food – stale fat and reformed meat being fried – greeted Jeanie as she walked away from reception and past a lounge area and then turned left into a bar. Football was on a big TV screen at the far end of the long bar. Several men were sitting at that end watching it. A few others were dotted around the bar eating dinner or catching up on a bit of work. She went up to the bar and asked the woman serving, a tired-looking Eastern European, if she knew Mr Collins.
‘Steve?”
‘Yes, Steve Collins.’
The barmaid pointed to a man sitting on the far side of one of the tables beneath the TV screen.
Jeanie recognized him from the photos on Tracy’s lounge walls.
Steve Collins was halfway through a pint of beer and enjoying the football when Jeanie stood in front of him, blocking his view of the TV.
‘Mr Collins?’ He looked her over. ‘Can I have a word please?’ She showed him her warrant card. He studied her for a few seconds as if trying to gauge the severity of her expression. He nodded and picked up his pint. As he picked up his phone from the table Jeanie saw there were three missed calls from Tracy. He slipped from his stool and followed Jeanie to a table away from the noise of the TV.
Jeanie sat opposite him as she introduced herself.
‘Sorry to interrupt your evening.’ He didn’t answer. Jeanie was getting the feeling that he liked to stare at women a little too much. ‘I’m Detective Constable Jeanie Vincent. I’m the Family Liaison Officer who’s been staying with your wife and part of the team investigating the kidnapping of Danielle Foster. Just wanted to update you and talk about how we propose to go forward with the investigation. First of all I want to thank you for you cooperation in this.’
‘I don’t really have a choice.’
‘It must be very distressing for you?’ Jeanie smiled; her eyes stayed boring into his.
‘I don’t know her.’
‘I see. Even so, what affects your wife affects you?’
He looked away as he shook his head, sighed.
‘I told her – can of worms.’
Jeanie looked at him curiously.
‘Excuse me?’
‘That’s what she opened when she let that girl into her life.’
‘I know it must be difficult for you but…’
‘It’s not difficult because I’m not going to let it be. I’ve already told Tracy I’m not coming back till it’s sorted.’
‘I’d like you to reconsider that please. I’m here to tell you we’d like you to go back home now. We need you to be aware of a few things.’ Jeanie stopped mid-sentence when he saw Steve shake his head and take a long swig of beer.