The Taken Girls: An absolutely gripping crime thriller full of mystery and suspense

‘Not on it. I’m in bed but with the duvet pushed aside so I can see myself in the mirror. Where are you?’

There was a pause.

‘Naughty.’

Ed sank back into the pillows, still looking at her image in the mirror.

‘What I always wear for us. You’d love the colour.’

There was another pause.

‘Red wine. A burgundy to match my underwear.’

There was a further pause and Ed took a sip of wine.

‘Mmmm … that sounds nice.’

At that point, a second mobile on the table beside her bed had started to ring.

‘Fuck!’

She grabbed it with her right hand.

‘DS Ogborne.’

Ed spoke sharply, unable to keep the annoyance from her voice.

‘Right, I’m on my way.’

To her left hand she said, ‘That was the Station, serious assault in Victoria Park. I have to go.’

Then, in response to sounds of displeasure: ‘How do you think I feel? Text me to set another time.’

Ed had swung her legs off the bed, reached for her glass of wine but thought better of it. Within five minutes, dressed for work, she’d been walking to catch the tube at Stockwell. Her frustration gradually dissipated as she travelled towards Moorgate. Getting on the CID team at Bishopsgate had been her dream move. She was on track to make DI at 27 and her career plan didn’t stop there. Detective Inspector would be one of several steps towards a top job at the Met. Ed loved working as a detective but, ultimately, she wanted a position from which she could influence policy, institute change and improve prospects for female officers.

Arriving at Bishopsgate Police Station, Ed had paused at the desk, ‘Assault in Vicky Park, what’s the score?’

‘You’ve had a wasted journey. The victim’s now claiming she was raped. It’s already with Sapphire.’

‘Typical, you get a girl out of bed and then disappoint her. Still, better that than the other way round.’

Before leaving, Ed checked her email. Chief Superintendent Shawcross wanted to see her at 08.30 tomorrow. A thought crossed her mind but she dismissed it. Surely it was too soon for a promotion?

The next morning, Ed had been up early, in by eight, and outside Shawcross’s door at eight-thirty.

‘Come!’ Ed had opened the door and closed it carefully behind her. ‘Ah, DS Ogborne.’ The Chief Super indicated a chair and frowned at her for some moments before saying, ‘You must know why I’ve sent for you.’

‘No, Sir.’

‘Manchester!’

Ed’s stomach dropped. ‘Manchester, Sir?’ She’d known what he meant but needed to play for time.

‘Yes, Manchester, but it didn’t stop at Manchester, did it, Ogborne?’

She looked down at her hands and immediately wished she hadn’t.

‘Do I have to spell it out for you, Ogborne? Manchester. You were at the conference attended by DCI Johns.’

Ed felt herself blushing. Of course it would get out. Apart from Manchester she hadn’t put a foot wrong. As soon as she’d discovered who Don was, she knew it had been a mistake, but by then they were in too deep. Still playing for time, Ed looked across the desk and held Shawcross’s eye while continuing to feign puzzlement. ‘Sir …?’

‘Starting a relationship with a senior officer in the Met would be bad enough but this man’s married, in the same Division, here in this building. This is serious, Ogborne, a disciplinary matter, potentially demotion, even dismissal, although I’m hoping it won’t come to that.’ Shawcross looked sternly at her, his eyes fixed on her face, allowing his words to sink in, letting her stew as he waited for a response.

When it finally came, Ed’s response had been pragmatic.

‘I’m sorry, Sir. You gave me a chance and I’ve let you down.’

‘I’m sorry too. I’ve had you in mind for promotion but I can’t let this situation continue. I can’t have you and DCI Johns together in the same building. You’ll have to transfer.’

Ed had struggled to control her outrage. Why me? Why not him? However, despite her sense of injustice, she didn’t argue. She knew her perception of fairness would have no match among the senior hierarchy of the Metropolitan Police. Coppers protect coppers and Chief Superintendent David Shawcross, with the backing of those above him, had chosen to protect Detective Chief Inspector Donald ‘The Don’ Johns.

Without appearing to breathe deeply, Ed controlled her anger and replied meekly, ‘Yes, Sir. I’m sorry, Sir.’

From station gossip she knew that other female officers had made the same mistake, several with the same man. The Don’s attitude to women was shit but he was a good DCI, the best in the Division, and his family was established in London. Ed felt her considered reaction had been the right one. She knew Shawcross valued her work and would protect her as far as he could. She watched her Super’s features soften into something short of a smile and was sure senior management had been of the same mind. Outraged but controlled, Ed waited for Shawcross to announce their decision.

‘You’ll have to transfer but I’m doing all I can to link the move with a promotion.’

‘I appreciate your efforts, Sir, but I was born in London. I grew up in Brixton. I did my police training at Hendon and I’ve worked in London ever since. More than anything, I want to stay in London and have a career with the Met.’

‘Trust me, Ogborne, a spell outside London won’t prevent you having the career you want. A stint in the provinces will broaden your experience and prepare you for a return to the Met.’

Despite these assurances, Ed hadn’t believed the top brass would put her career in London on hold. However, she’d realized that resistance would not alter the decision and that a fight would harm the career she wanted. She was a realist. This was how the world turned. She would scratch their backs now in the expectation that sometime in the future they would scratch hers. The image had made her shudder.

‘Are you all right, DS Ogborne?’

‘Yes, I’m fine, Sir. It will take a while for me to get used to the idea that I’m leaving the Met.’

‘It won’t be for ever. Give it a few years – we know your worth.’

Ed hadn’t been so sure, but Shawcross had left her in no doubt that a transfer out of the Met would happen.

Even with the Commissioner’s help, negotiating a promotion to DI in the provinces had taken longer than anticipated. Ed and Don were careful to avoid seeing each other at work but the frequent late-night telephone calls continued. Eventually, Ed was offered the post of Detective Inspector in Kent at Canterbury. She accepted immediately. Her transfer from the Met was set for the early summer.

Having decided to make career progression her number one priority, Ed intended the new post to be a short-term move, a brief interruption to her long-term career with the Met. With this in mind, she was determined not to sever her ties with London. She put the Brixton house in the hands of rental agents and most of her personal effects into storage. As a reward to herself she traded her parents’ Honda Civic, and the bulk of the money she’d inherited, for an MX-5 Roadster. The day before the tenants were due to arrive, Ed had squeezed her grandfather’s art books and her CDs, together with two suitcases, into her new car and headed east on the South Circular.

Transferred to Canterbury, many of the books, and all of her CDs, were still in the hotel car park, locked in the boot of her car, but Ed was determined to waste no time finding herself somewhere to live and the books a new home.

In the soft darkness of her hotel room she closed her eyes and was overwhelmed by a vivid memory of the back seat of Craig’s Mercedes the first time they’d parked in a deserted cul-de-sac near one of the south London commons. Craig was long gone, a previous life never to be repeated, but she wanted him with her in the hotel bed. Forcing the desire from her mind, Ed turned on her side and settled to sleep. Tomorrow she would have to negotiate her first meeting with her new line manager, Chief Superintendent Karen Addler.