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

7 (#ulink_b98eec14-a1ab-5edc-baa3-cb1494d1b4ff)

Lucy was awake. It was pitch black. She’d woken in an instant. One moment nothing existed, not even a dream. The next she was suffocating.

The darkness pressed on her body from all sides. There was no sound. Silence enveloped her like a coffin. Without light there was nothing beyond her skin. She felt trapped, suspended in heavy oil. There was no air and she knew she was close to death. She wanted to scream but fought against the impulse which would expel life’s last breath from her body.

Tightly wrapped by the duvet, she threw it from her with a sweep of her right arm. Now it was her clothes that held her prisoner, preventing her from living. She was contained by an oppressive presence composed of all that surrounded her. She wanted to tear the clothes from her body, desperate to step into the night and feel cold air against her skin, to open her mouth and draw fresh life-giving air into her lungs, but she was held fast by the handcuff and chain. Unable to move, feeling that she would die if she remained within her body, she lay rigid on the bed and struggled to escape her physical being, to retreat within herself, to live within her mind, to create space and light. Only in her imagination could she wander in cool shade, turning her nose and mouth to the salvation of a sea breeze.

She held that thought, held her body in conjured liberty until she could briefly observe her plight. Slowly her rational mind reasserted itself. She was breathing freely but the air felt no cooler than her body. She was contained in an unyielding presence but her ribs were expanding and contracting with each breath. She held fast to the space and freedom she’d created within her head. Imperceptibly the panic subsided and she slipped back to the non-existence of a dreamless sleep. As she slept the panic dissipated, disappearing as night terrors disappear with the rising sun.

It was Saturday morning when he returned to the building and found Lucy still asleep. He checked her breathing and her pulse; both were fine. The effects of the drug should have worn off by now. Typical teenager; no wonder so many could be seen rushing to school at the last minute. With the paraffin heater, it wasn’t cold in the room but he covered her with the duvet, which must have slipped off during the night, and checked the handcuffs and chain. Satisfied all was as it should be, he left the room, methodically locking the door behind him.

Today he hoped she’d be ready to talk and they could at least draw up a shopping list. He was content to let her sleep while he ran over his plan. He knew that if he were to buy too many things for a teenage girl in one shop it could raise suspicion. To avoid that he’d plotted a long drive with stops at several towns. He was determined to escape detection.

There was still no sign of Lucy waking so he unlocked his private room and left the door ajar while he inspected his collection. First things first, he completed the label for last night’s rehousing and replaced the jar. Running his eye along the shelf he noticed the preservative in Nos. 4 to 6 was looking cloudy. Just then, there were sounds from the other side of the chain-link partition. He made a mental note to change the cloudy formalin at his next opportunity.

Before going to the waking Lucy, he slipped the Mr Punch reed into his mouth and pulled the hood down over his face.

8 (#ulink_2fb8714f-c07d-5b95-8f63-14f8a8356297)

Ed entered the Station at 07.55. At first Sergeant Williams treated her to the same nonsense as the previous day, addressing her as DS Ogborne and asking her to wait in Interview Room 2, but three minutes later she was knocking at Superintendent Addler’s door.

It was a spacious corner office with a conference table to Ed’s right and Addler to her left behind a large desk at an angle across the corner windows. The Super looked up and indicated a visitor’s chair three feet from her desk.

‘DS Ogborne, Chief Superintendent Karen Addler as I’m sure you’re aware. In better circumstances I would have said welcome to Canterbury CID but your arrival has not been received as good news. Frankly it’s created problems for me and resentment among the staff.’

‘I’m sorry my arrival has led to difficulties but the transfer was totally out of my control.’

‘That’s as may be, Ogborne, but I, and you, must face the facts of the situation.’

‘Yes, Ma’am.’

‘My duty is to run a smooth, efficient ship. At the moment the waters are extremely choppy. I can manage the problem but only you can cure it.’

‘Yes, Ma’am.’

‘I’ll give you six months to get your team behind you and to be accepted by the staff as a whole. If that hasn’t happened by December I’ll push strongly for you to be moved on. Understood?’

‘Yes, Ma’am.’

‘Good. This is the position. DS Saunders leads our CID team. He was about to be promoted to DI when I heard from the Chief Constable that Saunders would have to move to Maidstone because a young DS from the Met was being transferred to the DI post in my Division. I think Saunders has been badly treated and so do my staff.’

Addler reached for a fat fountain pen, checked the cap was in place and returned it to the pen tray on her desk before redirecting her gaze to Ed’s face.

‘It would be surprising if you didn’t meet some hostility. It will be your task to overcome it. I hear you impressed people at the Met. I hope you can do the same here.’

‘I appreciate your frankness, Ma’am, and assure you that I shall do all I can to resolve the situation you say my arrival has caused,’ Ed said.

‘I don’t just say it, Ogborne, the situation I’ve described is exactly what your transfer has caused.’

‘Yes, Ma’am.’

‘So be it. Come, I’ll introduce you to the CID team.’

‘Just before we do that, Ma’am, may I ask a question?’

‘Go ahead.’

‘My understanding is that my transfer here was linked with promotion from Detective Sergeant to Detective Inspector.’

‘That’s correct.’

‘But you and Sergeant Williams have consistently addressed me as DS Ogborne.’

‘Correct. Until I receive official notification of your new rank, your status here is that of Detective Sergeant. You’ll work under DI Saunders’s direction until he moves to Maidstone.’

‘DI Saunders?’

‘His promotion came through a few days ago.’

With that, Addler swept Ed out of her office and down the corridor. As they passed the desk, Ed thought she caught sight of a smirk on Williams’s face. Clearly everybody in the Station was aware how the Super had decided to play this one. Stay cool, Ed, she reminded herself.

In the Incident Room, Addler’s commanding ‘Good morning’ was met by overlapping responses of ‘Good morning, Ma’am’ from three of the four detectives sitting round the table. The response of the fourth lagged slightly behind those of his colleagues as if caught by surprise that speech was required.

‘Ah … erm … good morning, Ma’am.’ He was a tired-looking man in his early forties with thinning hair and something more than the first signs of a paunch.

He was still speaking when Addler pointed in his direction and said, ‘DS Potts’ followed by ‘DC Eastham, DC Borrowdale, and, of course, DI Saunders.’ After a brief pause, she added, ‘And, as you all know, this is DS Ogborne, duly arrived from the Met. I’ll leave you to bring her up to speed with the missing girl.’ Addler’s parting shot, ‘Let’s get this one cleared up quickly’, was delivered as she turned and left the room.

Saunders looked down the table from his position at the far end and said, ‘The four of us have been here since six. We’ll get some coffee and then go over what we know.’

No smiles, no welcome and no further introductions as they trooped silently en masse down the corridor to the coffee machine. Were they all feeling as uncomfortable with her as she was with them?

Back at the Incident Room, DI Saunders said, ‘Bring your coffee to the table and we’ll get the introductions out of the way.’

Ed sat next to DS Potts, facing Saunders. The DI looked about the same age as Potts but he had no sign of a paunch and his hair had not receded an inch. Ed thought that of the two, in a tight situation, she’d rather have DI Saunders watching her back. At that moment, he cleared his throat and, looking a little uneasy, took charge of the meeting.

‘You’ve heard our names from the Super. Now I’ll introduce you properly to the team.’ He inclined his head towards the sharp dark-haired young man to his left who could have come straight from a barrow in Petticoat Lane. ‘DC Borrowdale. Nat is quick to react and faster on his feet than any of us.’ The DI’s gaze moved to the young woman on his right whose honey-blonde-framed face reminded Ed of a sunny soot-grimed one standing beside an ambulance in the Blitz. ‘DC Eastham. Jenny joined us earlier this year and her memory is proving better than the rest of ours put together.’ Saunders looked across the table at the older man slumped in the chair beside Ed. ‘And DS Michael Potts, born and raised in Canterbury; Mike knows the place and the people like the back of his hand.’

As they were introduced, Borrowdale and Eastham merely nodded in Ed’s direction while Potts managed a grunt. Saunders, if he were aware of the frosty reception, chose to ignore it.

‘I’m DI Brian Saunders, recently promoted and soon moving to the county town, Maidstone. And you are DS Ogborne, Edina Ogborne, recently of the Met.’

Ed cringed. ‘Edina was my grandmother’s name. I prefer Ed, even if it can cause problems for people who don’t know I’m a woman.’

Saunders acknowledged her preference with a nod.

‘You’ve met the Super. As for Canterbury, we’ll arrange a guided tour this evening. Right, let’s press on with the missing girl. Jenny, fill us in on where we’re at.’

The DC didn’t respond immediately so Ed took the opportunity to speak.