Stolen Angels Read online

  The time had come.

  Ninety-two

  There was a fairly large expanse of well-manicured grass at the rear of the flats in Biscay Road. The lawn

  was edged on three sides by flower beds and shrubs, all of which were in bloom. The entire colourful display was enclosed by high privet hedges. At two corners there were strategically placed weeping willows. Here and there leaves tumbled across the grass like green confetti.

  It looked delightful, but the seven individuals who stood in the centre of the lawn seemed unconcerned by the array of colour before them, unimpressed by the peacefulness of the scene.

  Three uniformed constables stood stiffly alongside the other four visitors.

  ‘The box is here somewhere,’ said Shanine Connor, glancing around.

  Talbot shook his head almost imperceptibly. ‘You’re sure it’s not inside the building?’ he asked Cath.

  T looked.’

  ‘In every room, in every flat?’ the DI asked.

  ‘The other three boxes were found in the victims’ gardens, Jim,’ Rafferty offered.

  Cath shuddered involuntarily at the word victim.

  ‘All right,’ Talbot said. ‘Get on with it.’

  The three uniformed men split up, one moving to each side of the garden.

  Each was equipped with a spade.

  Talbot looked on as they began to dig, turning the earth as carefully as questing archaeologists anxious not . to disturb some priceless hidden relic.

  The spades went no deeper than eight or nine inches each time.

  Rafferty wandered towards the bottom of the garden, standing close to one of the uniformed men as he dug.

  The constable worked his way along the border, turning earth, gazing down to inspect anything he may have unearthed.

  Rafferty saw worms writhing in the wet soil, one of them sliced in two by the blade of the shovel.

  Shanine Connor moved towards the closest hedge and kneeled beside the privet perimeter, occasionally lifting the leaves of plants to look for any signs of disturbed earth.

  Cath did the same thing at the base of one tree, urging the constable there to dig around the willow. He nodded and turned more of the damp soil, muttering to himself as it clung defiantly to the spade.

  He stopped for a moment, banging the blade against the small tree, clods falling from the implement.

  When he dug again he struck something hard.

  He kneeled, using his hands to pull away the remaining soil.

  Whatever he’d hit was close to the surface.

  Cath moved nearer, her heart pounding.

  It was a tree root.

  She sighed.

  The constable continued with his task, moving a few more inches to his right.

  ‘What if it’s buried deeper than the others were?’ Rafferty said, rejoining Talbot who was still standing in the centre of the lawn looking around him as helplessly as a lost child in a supermarket.

  ‘Then we dig deeper,’ the DI replied.

  ‘It still might not be here,’ Cath said, agitatedly.

  ‘Then where do you suggest we look?’ the DI snapped. ‘This is for your benefit, try being grateful.’

  Cath was about to say something when she heard Shanine Connor’s voice behind her.

  Distracted.

  ‘What’s that?’ said the younger woman.

  Cath, Talbot and Rafferty turned to see her pointing through a gap in the hedge.

  She was motioning across the road towards a small children’s playground.

  It was protected by a line of low conifers and a black-painted iron fence.

  Shanine could see a small girl clambering to the top of a slide. Another smaller boy was hauling himself over a climbing frame. On a bench near by, a woman watched them vigilantly, calling to them every now and then.

  Sounds of laughter could be heard drifting on the air.

  ‘We should look there too,’ Shanine said, her eyes still fixed on the children. As she watched she touched her own swollen belly.

  Soon.

  ‘You said the box would be buried in the garden,’ Talbot snapped.

  ‘I said it would be close to the victim’s home,’ Shanine repeated.

  Cath shuddered.

  That word again.

  ‘That’s close,’ Shanine continued, jabbing a finger towards the playground.

  ‘You three stay here,’ Talbot said to the uniformed men. ‘Keep digging. If you find anything, come and get me.’

  Cath and Shanine were already heading out of the garden, then hurrying across the street towards the playground.

  Talbot and Rafferty followed.

  The woman with the two children looked around in bewilderment as Cath and Shanine entered the playground, the plain-clothes policemen only moments behind them.

  Talbot saw the concern on her face and smiled what he hoped was a reassuring smile.

  The children seemed uninterested in these newcomers: they played happily while the others wandered around them.

  Cath crossed to a litter bin and peered in.

  Empty.

  Talbot sat on a swing and watched disinterestedly.

  One of the children smiled at him and he smiled back.

  Shanine pushed the leaves of a bush aside and dug at the earth with the toe of one trainer, disturbing the soil there.

  Rafferty was doing something similar next to a newly planted tree.

  The playground surface was woodchips, but the pathway surrounding it was concrete flagstones.

  As he was taking in the scene around him, Talbot noticed that one of the flags was slightly raised, dark earth spilling from beneath it.

  He stepped off the swing and crossed to the paving stone.

  The rest of the path was flat, the stones flush.

  The one he was peering down .at looked as if it had been prised up.

  He hooked his two hands beneath it and lifted, surprised at how easily the stone came free.

  Watched by the woman on the bench, he flipped it over, gazing down at the dark earth beneath.

  With his bare hands he began to scratch at the dirt like a dog in search of a bone.

  It was a matter of seconds before his fingertips touched something cold.

  Something wooden.

  The others had seen what he was doing and wandered over to join him. Shanine kneeled beside him, pulling more of the earth away.

  Rafferty moved closer to Cath as if to reassure her.

  Talbot and Shanine pulled the final clods away.

  The woman on the bench looked on in bewilderment.

  The box was about four inches below the surface.

  ‘Is that it?’ Talbot asked.

  Shanine Connor nodded slowly. ‘Burn it’ she said, flatly. ‘It’s the only way to break the Hex.’

  Talbot hesitated.

  ‘Do it, for Christ’s sake’ Cath urged.

  The DI gripped the box in one powerful hand then brought it crashing down onto one of the paving stones.

  The wood split, the lid came free.

  The contents spilled out into view.

  Three thorns. Some dried earth and a dead beetle.

  The photo fluttered out, twisted right side up.

  Half a photo.

  The picture had been ripped in two down the middle.

  ‘Oh my God’ murmured Cath.

  She was staring at an image of her brother.

  Frank Reed smiled back from the torn photograph.

  ‘Why is Frank’s picture in there?’ she gasped.

  ‘Is that part of the photo that was stolen from your flat?’ Talbot asked.

  Cath nodded. ‘But why Frank?’ she whispered, eyes riveted to the torn image.

  ‘There’s something else’ Talbot said, a note of urgency in his voice. ‘If your brother’s half of that photo is in the box, who’s got the part with you on it?’

  Ninety-three

  Frank Reed drew the razor slowly across his foamy cheek then rinsed it in
the sink.

  He splashed his face with water and gazed at the image that peered back from the bathroom mirror.

  With the dark shadow of two days’ accumulated stubble removed he looked better. Fresher.

  Ready.

  If you look like shit, you feel like shit.

  He leaned closer to the mirror and stared into his bloodshot eyes. The lids were puffy through lack of sleep.

  He splashed his face again, perhaps hoping he could wash away his tired, haggard features.

  Reed towelled his face dry and wandered into the bedroom where his navy blue jacket and trousers were already laid out on the bed.

  He’d pressed them before showering and shaving.

  He wanted to look smart.

  He wanted to prove to those who saw him that he was master of this situation.

  You can fool them, but you can’t fool yourself.

  Standing before the full-length mirror, he slipped on a white shirt, pulled on his trousers, and stepped into a pair of shoes. Then he reached into the wardrobe for his tie. As he did so, he glanced to the other side of the cabinet, and his eyes narrowed.

  When she’d walked out on him, Ellen had left a few things: only the odd item of clothing pushed into the back of the wardrobe, but a reminder.

  A single white blouse hung there; beneath it a tattered pair of suede high heels, the toes scuffed and dirty.

  He bent down and picked up the shoes, pulled the blouse from its hanger.

  He dropped all three items into the wastebin in one corner of the room, then returned to the wardrobe to fasten his tie.

  He checked himself in the mirror and was satisfied with what he saw.

  Reed glanced at his watch.

  He had time.

  The drive would take him less than twenty minutes.

  Becky didn’t leave school for another thirty.

  He would be there when she walked out of the front gate.

  Waiting.

  He walked back into the bathroom and ran a comb through his hair, then he strode back through the bedroom, where he gathered his car keys.

  He wondered if Ellen was intending to pick up Becky from school.

  Perhaps she’d send Ward to do it.

  Fucking bastard.

  He gritted his teeth at the thought of his daughter with another man. A man who dared to call himself her father now.

  I love him.’

  Ellen’s words echoed in Reed’s mind. Discordant syllables.

  He wondered when she had stopped loving him. What he’d done to drive her away.

  It’s not your fault. She chose to go. You’re not to blame.

  He went into the kitchen, glancing down at the summons which still lay on the table. Reed picked it up and slipped it into the inside pocket of his jacket.

  He felt curiously calm. A serenity he’d not experienced for some time had settled over him. Even his anger seemed momentarily quelled.

  Again he looked at his watch.

  Becky would be leaving school soon. He must be there to see her.

  Must be there when she walked from those gates.

  Before Ellen or Ward.

  He slid open one of the kitchen drawers and looked down at the contents.

  He selected a knife with a three-inch blade, razor sharp.

  Reed slid it into the pocket of his jacket, then pushed a handkerchief in on top of it.

  Time to go.

  Twenty-five minutes and Becky would be leaving school.

  His timing should be perfect.

  He headed for the front door.

  Ninety-four

  ‘There’s no answer’ said Cath anxiously, the mobile phone gripped in her hand.

  ‘We’ve got to warn him’ Shanine repeated.

  Cath was already turning, hurrying towards the road.

  She had to go to Frank.

  ‘Who would want to kill your brother?’ Talbot asked.

  ‘I haven’t got a clue’ she gasped, pulling the keys of the Fiat from her pocket.

  ‘What’s his address?’ Talbot snapped.

  Cath told him.

  ‘And a car? Make, registration?’ he added.

  She stopped in her tracks, flustered.

  ‘Come on, for Christ’s sake. Think’ the DI urged.

  ‘Dark blue …’ she faltered. ‘Honda Civic’

  ‘The reg?’ Talbot pressed.

  ‘Jesus Christ, Talbot, how can I remember?’

  ‘If you want him to stay alive you’d better remember’ the policeman snapped.

  She held his stare for a moment, her mind spinning.

  ‘F’ she said, chewing a nail, desperate to remember. ‘F720 PPX. That’s it. I’m sure. F720 PPX.’

  The DI turned to Rafferty.

  ‘Put out a call to any units near that address,’ he instructed. ‘And tell them I want that car traced, too.’

  The DS nodded and hurried off to relay the information.

  ‘You get to him now’ Talbot said to Cath. ‘We can have men at his flat within ten minutes. Fuck knows what they’re going to say to him when they get there, though.’

  Cath managed a smile.

  ‘Thanks, Talbot’ she said.

  ‘Just doing my job.’

  She nodded. Then she was gone.

  Frank Reed sat behind the wheel of the Civic gazing into empty air.

  Across the street two women were standing talking, one of them gently pushing a baby-buggy back and forth, occasionally looking down at its occupant.

  A little girl about a year old, Reed guessed.

  A beautiful child.

  Like Becky was at that age.

  As she still was.

  He pulled the summons from his inside pocket and scanned it for the hundredth time that day.

  The words and letters didn’t miraculously change.

  Things didn’t get any better.

  Summons.

  He tossed it onto the passenger seat then started the engine, stepping on the accelerator a little too hard so the roar of the Civic caused the two women to look round at him.

  He was aware of their stares but ignored it.

  Reed stuck the car in gear and pulled away.

  As he did he patted the pocket of his jacket and felt the knife there.

  ‘There could be another box for you,’ said Shanine, glancing across at Cath, who seemed more concerned with the car which was blocking her passage ahead.

  She hit her hooter and swerved around the vehicle.

  ‘There might be another Misfortune Box with-‘

  ‘I know that,’ Cath snapped. ‘All that matters now is that I get to Frank in time.’

  She drove on.

  Frank Reed parked the Civic across the road from the main entrance of the school and waited.

  He shifted in his seat, rolling his neck gently.

  There was pain beginning to nag at the base of his skull.

  He looked at his watch, checked it against the dashboard clock.

  Not long now.

  Other cars were parked across the street, some close to his own. More parents preparing to meet their offspring, he assumed.

  He scanned some of the faces seated in the stationary vehicles.

  No sign of Ward or Ellen.

  Again he felt the knife in his pocket.

  Again he glanced down at the summons, still lying discarded on the passenger seat.

  He paid no attention to the police car which cruised slowly past.

  ‘Puma Three, come in. Over.’

  Talbot snatched up the two-way as he heard the metallic voice crackle over the airwaves. ‘Puma Three here. Over,’ he responded.

  ‘That dark blue Honda Civic you wanted traced,’ the metallic voice said. ‘One of the mobile units has clocked it.’

  ‘Where?’ Talbot demanded.

  ‘Outside a school in Macklin Street, Camden. Over.’

  Rafferty glanced across at his companion.

  ‘Tell the officers on the scene to approach
the driver. Over,’ Talbot said.

  ‘Do it now.’

  Ninety-five

  Frank Reed saw the first few children scurrying through the school gates and sat up excitedly in the driver’s seat.

  He turned slightly, eyes scanning the ever-increasing flow of children in blue uniforms, who were now flooding from the gates, some in groups, some in twos or singly.

  There was still no sign of either Ellen or Ward.

  He would be able to get to Becky first.

  If only he could see her.

  A number of the other children had already climbed into waiting cars, ushered in by their parents. Some of the vehicles were pulling away.

  Heading home.

  Home.

  He looked across at the summons, the knot of muscles at the side of his jaw throbbing angrily.

  He didn’t even see the police car parked twenty or thirty yards behind him.

  Didn’t notice the two uniformed men climb out and begin walking towards his car.

  Becky emerged from the school gates with two of her friends, all three of them chattering and laughing.

  God, she was so beautiful when she laughed.

  His little girl.

  The advancing policemen were less than fifteen yards from the car now.

  Reed swallowed hard and gazed raptly at his daughter.

  She was standing close to the school gates looking around.

  Perhaps she expected someone to be there to pick her up.

  The two constables were only ten yards away now.

  Becky waved goodbye to one of her friends and stood chatting to the other who glanced at her watch, then looked up and spotted her mother. The woman had just pulled up close to the school entrance and Reed watched as the other girl hurried off and climbed into the car, waving to Becky as the vehicle pulled away.

  She was alone now.

  Waiting.

  The two constables were within touching distance of Reed’s car.

  He spotted one in his wing mirror but he thought nothing of it.

  His mind was focused on Becky.

  He pulled the knife from his pocket. - She was alone there.

  He took one final glance at the summons.

  Did Becky understand what they were saying about him? he wondered. Did she understand the shame the accusations had brought? Could she ever realise the pain he was suffering?

  He felt tears brimming in his eyes.

  ‘I’m sorry, Becky,’ he whispered.

  The first constable reached the Civic in time to see the knife glinting in Reed’s hand.