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

‘I know my arrival must have been a surprise, totally unexpected, but that went for me too. I was told nothing of the situation here. Had I known—’

‘I’m aware of that.’ Saunders cut across her and barely paused before adding, ‘So, what have we got, Jenny?’

Feeling firmly put in her place, Ed shifted her attention to the young DC.

Jenny put down her coffee cup and delivered her summary without once looking at her notes.

‘Lucy Naylor, 17 years old, from Hollowmede in Wincheap. The house is down the road from the local primary school. Lucy was reported missing by her parents at 22.57 last night, Friday, 15 June. Her friend, Deborah Shaxted, also 17, of Victoria Road, Wincheap, confirmed that Lucy had spent the evening with her. Lucy left Debbie’s house just after ten to walk home. Unfortunately, she never arrived. Her parents, Rachel and Simon Naylor, contacted Deborah’s parents around ten-thirty; Mrs Shaxted remembered the television news had just finished. Both fathers left their homes and walked between the houses, each taking one of the two routes Lucy would probably have followed to get home. They found no trace of the girl. At that point, Lucy’s father ran home and telephoned the police.’

Saunders interrupted, ‘What about boyfriends? In a case like this …’

‘Lucy’s parents said she didn’t have a boyfriend.’

Jenny took another mouthful of coffee and Nat Borrowdale, who had been visibly itching to speak, seized his chance.

‘Mr and Mrs Shaxted said the same and Debbie confirmed it. She said neither of them has a boyfriend.’

Saunders’s eyes flicked from Eastham to Borrowdale. ‘I assume you got a description and a recent photograph?’

‘We got a good head and shoulders taken three months ago.’ Nat glanced down at his notes. ‘Her parents described her height as five-three to five-four, jaw-length mid-brown hair. She left home last night with a grey-blue cardigan over a white blouse and faded jeans. She was wearing brown flat-heeled shoes.’

‘The Shaxteds gave a similar description and Debbie confirmed the clothes,’ said Jenny. ‘She may be 17 but from the photo I’d say she looks younger and her clothes are rather old-fashioned for a teenager.’

DS Potts, whose eyes had been directed at his cupped hands, raised his head. ‘The photo’s been copied and distributed to the morning shift together with her description.’

‘So, what have we got?’ Saunders began to summarize. ‘Lucy Naylor, a 17-year-old schoolgirl with no known boyfriend, disappeared just after ten yesterday evening sometime during the five to six minutes it would take her to walk from the home of her friend, Debbie Shaxted, on Victoria Road to her own house on Hollowmede.’

‘What’s that stretch like between the two houses?’

Canterbury was Potts’s domain. He immediately roused himself and responded to Ed’s question.

‘Depends which way she went. Debbie said she left the house and turned left. That would give her two routes home, but Debbie said they generally took the pathway that runs from the southern end of Victoria Road directly into Hollowmede. The other possibility is via Cogan—’

Saunders interrupted. ‘Thanks, Mike, DS Ogborne will get to see the area later.’ The DI took a mouthful of coffee before continuing.

‘Last night, when Lucy was reported missing, we had a car patrol in the area while Nat and Jenny spoke to the parents. By then it was approaching midnight. Nobody was about and there was no sign of the girl. Neither Debbie nor either set of parents thought it remotely possible that Lucy had gone to visit somebody else. So, at the moment we have nothing but a missing girl.’

While the DI was talking, Mike Potts raised both hands to stifle a yawn and Nat Borrowdale appeared to be trying, without success, to catch the eye of Jenny Eastham. Saunders leant forward in his chair.

‘We’re assuming Lucy’s been abducted but, as yet, we have no evidence and no scene of crime although we currently have SOCO and uniform searching both routes between the girls’ homes. Perhaps we’ll get lucky. All the uniform officers on the morning shift are out with Lucy’s description and the photo but we’ve had no reported sightings.’

Looking directly at Ed, Saunders asked, ‘Where would you go from here?’

From the moment Jenny had begun her summary Ed had pushed aside all thoughts of her reception and focused fully on the case.

‘Do we have Lucy’s mobile number?’

Nat moved to consult his notebook.

Jenny began reciting, ‘07867—’

Nat immediately interrupted. ‘If he has any sense he’ll have switched it off.’

Mike cleared his throat and started to explain many areas didn’t have reception.

Ed coughed and cut across them all. ‘If we don’t get forensics to try locating her mobile we’ll never know.’

From the other side of the table, Brian Saunders held up a hand and said, ‘That was the first thing I authorized. Her mobile’s off or in an area with no reception. If the abductor has any sense, he’s removed the SIM.’

‘Thanks.’ Ed knew this was the moment she had to impress the team. As inconspicuously as possible, she took a deep breath.

‘Right, given the time of night, I assume the interviews with the Naylors and the Shaxteds were brief so we should question them in more detail. They’ll probably not come up with anything new so we need witnesses who saw something that might help. As a starter, we should cover every property on the routes Lucy could have taken from Debbie’s house in Victoria Road to her own in Hollowmede.’

‘Agreed.’ Saunders looked at DC Eastham. ‘Jenny, take Ed to talk to the parents. Mike, you and Nat organize the door-to-door. Split the two routes between you. Has anybody anything to add?’

Nobody spoke.

‘Right, we’ll meet back here in 30 minutes.’ His eyes moved to meet Ed’s. ‘Come with me. I’ll show you your desk.’

Ed followed Saunders to her desk where he left her in order to see the Super. Clearly it was going to be a busy day. Ed called the estate agent to rearrange her viewings for Sunday.

9 (#ulink_81f8bcdf-8573-5aa8-8eba-5d8563d741cf)

There was no sunlight and no birdsong as Lucy began to wake. Still drowsy, she reached out with her right hand to find Tomkins the Ted. These days he was the only one of her fluffy toys she allowed to share her bed. She couldn’t find him. He wasn’t there. That was strange; he was always there. Her uneasiness began to bubble into panic and then all was well. She was at the seaside. Tomkins must be safe at home. She was on the beach at Broadstairs. She could hear the Punch and Judy, ‘That’s the way to do it’.

‘Ah … you’re awake. Excuse the voice. Don’t be frightened. I’m going to treat you well.’

It wasn’t Mr Punch. She remembered that voice, those words. Her rising panic was replaced by a cold, debilitating fear. Lucy tried to turn towards the voice but couldn’t, her left arm was held by something soft but unyielding. She was helpless. Panic overcame her helplessness and she struggled against the restraint but it held firm. Fighting back tears of fear and frustration she raised her head and looked towards the voice. It was there, the figure from last night, standing outside the wire mesh partition, staring at her through two holes cut in its black hood. Without realizing what she was doing, Lucy began to scream.

The figure waited patiently until her cries weakened. Then the strange voice, the Mr Punch voice, came again.

‘Please don’t pull at the handcuff. I really don’t want you to hurt yourself. You’ll probably want to use the primitive sanitation. Remember the bucket at the end of the bed. There’s soap, water, and a towel on the table. I’ll step outside for ten minutes while you do what you have to do.’

Lucy watched him leave and biological necessity overcame her fear. The bucket disgusted her. It was difficult to use it while chained to the wall but she had no choice. She hurried to wash, not sure when he would return. It was at least ten minutes before she heard a knock and his Mr Punch voice call, ‘I’m coming in!’ She didn’t reply. A few moments later the door opened and he came back into the building.

‘Breakfast is limited this morning. There’s buttered toast with jam and tea, instant coffee or a glass of milk. The milk’s room temperature. There’s no fridge. Otherwise there’s water.’

Lucy wanted to be strong, to argue logically as she did in the debates at school but the panic returned, overwhelming her intentions.

‘I don’t want breakfast. Just let me go.’ She looked at him pleadingly, unable to keep the fear from her voice or the tears from her eyes. ‘Please … please let me go.’

He didn’t respond. The eyes behind the black hood looked at her impassively.

‘Why are you keeping me here? What do you want? Just let me go and I’ll not say anything. I’ll tell them I can’t remember what happened.’

Desperate to convince him, she was surprised that a clear logic was returning to her thoughts. To sway her captor she must tell him what he would like to hear.

‘I’ll say I don’t know what came over me, that when I came to my senses I found myself wandering the back streets of Canterbury. I was disorientated. Then I recognized where I was. I got myself together and walked home.’