Carter shouted across to Gardner.
‘Call for back-up but stay here, tell Sandford what’s going on.’
Willis reached the officer and helped him up from the ground.
‘You okay?’
‘Yes. I’m okay. I couldn’t stop him, I’m sorry. He came out of nowhere and the dog charged me.’
‘What did he look like?’ asked Carter as he got to them.
‘In his late twenties, scruffy, blood on his face, hands… he had on a grey woolly hat pulled down over his ears. His dog looked like it had been in a fight too. It’s light-coloured – one of those big ugly ones. He came out of the space behind the bins over there on the second to last property.’
‘Did you see where he went?’
‘He ran off into Hannover Estate.’
‘Okay. Help is on its way. Be ready. There could be more people hiding.’
They started towards the estate. Carter reached inside his jacket for his phone, dialling as he ran.
‘We’re going after a suspect in Hannover Estate – entrance opposite Parade Street… I need a car around the back of it. Looking for a white male with dog. He’s injured. Be careful – the dog will attack.’
They ran past the row of scruffy garages and lock-ups in the parking area. Carter signalled to Willis that he had seen something and was headed towards the gap between the tower block and the four-storey building that flanked it. She began to follow but then slowed as she heard a sound coming from the garages. She went to call to Carter but he was already twenty metres away.
Willis walked towards the last of the garages, plastered in graffiti, spray-painted in blocks of colour and covered with the name ‘Hannover Boys’.
‘Police.’ She waited for a reply. ‘Come out and show yourself. Come out now.’
Carter was out of sight by this time. She stepped towards the door and pulled it open.
‘Police – come out. I need to see you.’ She took a step inside the garage and shone her torch around. The walls were covered in graffiti. There was silence. She heard a shout go up from Carter and a dog bark. From somewhere outside she heard running. She turned to leave but stopped – in front of her was a man wearing a woolly hat, his face slashed by a gaping wound that ran over the top of his nose and split his eyebrow before it pierced his cheek in a semi-circle. He was holding the dog by its collar as they blocked her way.
The dog reared and snarled as it bared its teeth.
‘It’s okay. Keep calm. Make sure the dog stays under control. Are you all right?’ The man didn’t answer. He was breathing hard. The front of his T-shirt was soaked in blood. ‘Look, you need help – your face needs seeing to. Let me help you.’
He held the dog’s collar in a stronger grip with one hand as he touched his face, then looked at the wet sticky blood on his fingertips.
‘Something happened on Parade Street last night. Did you see it?’
He didn’t answer. He looked nervously towards the sound of someone approaching outside.
‘You need to come with me.’ Willis took a step closer and the dog lunged forwards at her. She held up her hands for calm. ‘I can help you.’
He shook his head, released the dog, and ran.
Chapter 2
The dog lingered in the doorway, snarling before it turned and followed its master. Willis ran outside – both man and dog were gone. Carter was jogging towards her.
‘I thought I saw him but it turned out it wasn’t him. Where were you?’ he said as he got within earshot and stopped to catch his breath. He looked at Willis’s expression. ‘Are you okay? What happened here?’
‘The suspect was hiding in here with his dog,’ answered Willis.
‘What happened?’
‘Nothing – he ran. He looks like he’s been glassed or bottled.’
They heard a police siren, then four officers came running their way.
Carter met them.
‘Two of you get back in the car and see if you can find a white male with a dog. Willis?’ He turned to her to finish the description.
‘Twenty-five to thirty-five. Grey woolly hat. Dark blue jacket, combat trousers. He is bleeding on his face. His dog is sandy-coloured – a cross-breed, bull mastiff, bulldog type. It will attack.’
‘The other two of you get some crime-scene tape and cordon this area off. Get the keys from the council,’ said Carter. ‘I want all of these garages searched. I want SOCOs here. We’re looking for a match with the scene at 22 Parade Street. That lad must have left his blood somewhere. Willis?’
‘Guv?’
‘We’ll leave them to it and head over to Brockley.’
As they drove south of the River Thames, they were snagged in a morning queue of traffic. Carter tapped his thumbs on the leather steering wheel as he watched the traffic inch forward. He looked across at Willis.
‘Oy!’
He shifted in his seat so he could turn more towards her as the traffic was stationary.
‘I wish you’d shut up – you’re driving me mad with your constant chatter.’
She shook her head apologetically. ‘Just thinking it through.’
‘Think and talk. Tell me what we’ve got here.’
Willis took out her notebook.
Carter put the car into first gear, eased a few feet further into the traffic jam, then started the conversation:
‘The woman… Olivia Grantham… goes in there, dressed for sex. She goes in there and she can’t get out.’
‘Yeah – the men get carried away; fights break out and she gets killed; then they get scared and do a runner,’ said Willis.
‘Where did they go then?’ asked Carter, not waiting for an answer as he continued: ‘We need to get officers going into every hostel, every empty building where they sleep; we’ll start with those within a mile radius and then we’ll widen the net if we have to. I need all the off-licences in the area contacted, to go through their tills and see who paid for that brand of half-bottles of vodka we found in there. Who are the heroin and crack dealers in the area? Also, I want officers all over that estate. Someone must have seen something.’
‘I think we should post extra officers on the surrounding streets too, guv,’ said Willis as she made notes. ‘The people who sleep there are bound to try and come back.’
‘Exactly. We will. We’ll round them up. Bring them in, fingerprints, DNA samples.’
‘We might find some evidence in the lock-up, guv.’
‘Ring Sandford now and tell him what we found.’
Willis got off the phone to Sandford.
‘He’ll get over there as soon as he is able. He says to wear suits when we go into Olivia Grantham’s flat. He’s going to want to go in there next.’
Carter laughed. ‘Tell him to get his head out of his arse and do his job – we’ll do ours – pompous git.’ Carter went back to drumming his thumb on the wheel.
The caretaker answered his buzzer at the entrance to the mock-Georgian block of smart flats where Olivia Grantham lived. He was expecting them and handed them the keys to her apartment.
‘Do you know if Miss Grantham had a car, sir?’ Carter asked. The caretaker was a retired Met officer now living rent-free in exchange for handyman duties.
‘Yes. She had a white Fiat 500.’
‘Where is it parked?’
‘She had a car-parking space around the back of the building – but the car’s not there now. She left in it yesterday evening and didn’t return.’
‘Did you see her leave?’
‘Yes. I talked to her.’
‘What time was that?’ Willis wrote in her notebook as Carter asked the questions.
‘About six. I was saying goodbye to my friend here at the door when she came by us.’