No reply.
She took another step forward. A dark-dressed figure leaped out of the bushes so fast, she barely registered any details. Gina ran, jumping over every lump in the ground.
‘He’s heading that way, guv.’
She heard Wyre behind her and the woman overtook her, diverting onto the field. Gina pounded behind, seeing the figure fleeing towards the lane. If they didn’t keep up, they’d lose him to the high street with all its little streets, making it perfect to get lost in. He’d do what Grant Braddock did and hide out in a garden or shed until they’d gone. With all she had, Gina forced her body into sprint mode, even though everything was beginning to hurt. As they reached the other end of the field, Wyre and their suspect were out of sight.
Stopping on the top of the lane, she glanced back at the area cordoned off by police tape and listened for any clue as to which direction her colleague may have taken. Then she heard the most sickening of screams. Wyre was at the back of the Angel Arms. Gathering pace, Gina pushed through the hedge and stood in the pub garden. Several smokers stared at her. ‘Have two people just come this way?’
A woman nodded as she blew out a plume of smoke. ‘The woman fell and hit her head on the bench but she got up and carried on chasing the man. She shouted police but it was too late for us to assist, the man had already gone. They went that way.’ The woman pointed around the side of the pub.
Her phone rang. It was Wyre. ‘I’m by the church, guv.’
‘I’m coming.’ She called it in immediately, hoping that uniform could now join in with their pursuit of the suspect. The church was all the way down the other end. Gina held her side as she panted and ran until she reached the church. Its large cross lit up the frontage. She saw a police car pulling up on the road. She waved and carried on, hoping to spot Wyre.
A flash of a torch lit up a gravestone around the back and a woman came out of the church wearing a dressing gown and her unlaced black heavy boots. Her dark hair stuck to the side of her face like she’d been asleep. Gina knew her to be the local vicar, Sally. ‘There’s something going on in the graveyard. I heard shouting a moment ago which is why I came out.’ The sound of her dog barking from behind the kitchen door masked what Gina was trying to listen out for.
‘Sally, keep back. We are in pursuit of a suspect and they could be dangerous.’ The woman stood back and Gina hurried out the back. She could no longer see Wyre’s torch.
‘Paula,’ she called, but her colleague didn’t answer. She hurried forward, her own torch pointing ahead.
‘Here, guv. I got him.’ She peered up, over a grave. ‘I’ve read him his rights.’ Dragging the cuffed man to his feet, Wyre smiled proudly.
‘We best get Mr Whittle to the station.’
‘I haven’t done anything,’ he yelled as Wyre handed him over to Smith. They watched as Whittle yelled and struggled all the way over the graves.
‘Good job.’ Gina smiled at Wyre. ‘We now get to find out what Whittle was doing hanging around the back of the Braddocks’s house and we can get justice for the women he’s assaulted. Did they make statements?’
Wyre smiled. ‘Yes, I know Jacob interviewed the lunchtime superintendent and the cleaner. Miriam also came forward and made a full statement, as did Anita Teller.’
‘That just leaves Annabel. We still need to find her, and where is the boy?’
They began walking towards their cars.
‘I didn’t kill Taylor. You have to believe me. I just looked after her.’ Smith placed his hand on Whittle’s head as he lowered him into the police car.
‘We need to get back to the station, now. I’ll meet you there.’ Gina knew she had to be the one to interview Whittle. He knew something about Taylor and what was happening. There was a huge chance he’d taken Annabel and left her somewhere. If that was the case, Annabel was now alone. Unless they found her, she could die soon. Arresting Whittle could have cut off her lifeline so they had to act fast.
FIFTY-TWO
Annabel
I feel woozy but the softness my head leans on is most welcome. I was only just thinking about Cally and the time she dropped ice cream down my top when I lifted her up. Where am I? My chest is cold and damp and I seem to have been changed into a sweatshirt by the feel of it. Prising my eyes open I see that it’s dark but there are round windows. I don’t know how long I’ve been here but I do know this isn’tFreedom. This is my brother-in-law’s boat. We leftFreedomand I remember I was in a car boot.
There is a length of material tied behind my head and it’s dry in my mouth. There’s a freshness about it. It’s not the same filthy rag that he’s been using as a gag. ‘Help,’ I try to half shout, but no one can hear me. The smell of fresh paint lingers in the air. Seth was meant to be in the Netherlands lecturing and I know he said his boat needed painting. I fidget, hoping that my restraints will come loose. I’m on my side, my hands are behind my back and my ankles are tied together. What I’m lacking is strength. This is how it must feel to be dying. The strength goes, the pain fails to be alleviated and a person lies there, hoping that death will come and take it all away. That is me, right now.
All I see is the light of the moon. I feel a slight swaying underneath. I hate boats. Memories of that day in the boat with Grant and Cally flood my mind. Grant always wanted what his brother had. The looks, the boat, the watch, the house; the job that took him to exciting places and the string of young women that he seemed to end up in brief relationships with. I chose to be with Grant after once dating Seth. Grant could never let me forget that I once went out with his brother.
Panic rises and I begin to pull at my binds again, tearing flesh on my wrists. Even though my hands are tied behind my back, I can feel that he’s tied me up with rope. I wince as another tug stings, forcing tears from my eyes. If I don’t do anything, he’s going to take Cally. I have to get out and get to her before he does.
I pause and listen. I’m alone. Now that my eyes have adjusted, I can see a little. I’ve been on this boat before, only once when we all went out for a picnic. Cally was only a baby. That’s how long ago it was. Later that day, Dad got drunk. He confessed to hurting my mother once and told me how much he hated himself. It took me a year to speak to him again. I know that my mother cheated on him but that was no excuse for what he did.
My heart pounds again as I think of Cally. If he’s not here terrorising me, he’s out there. Cally thinks the world of him. She trusts him. That thought sends a jolt of fear through me. I start fiddling with the rope again, my fingers barely reaching it. It’s hopeless. Nothing I do is helping at all and everything hurts.
I need to get out. My heart pounds so hard, it feels like it’s going to pack up. Maybe that’s how I die. Heart attack. I breathe in through my nose and feel the slither of a tear slipping down my cheek.
Thinking of Grant, I wonder if he’s dead. Left in that horrible old boat by this maniac. He’s been a nasty husband but Cally loves him with all his faults. She doesn’t deserve to lose her father and people can change. My dad changed. Maybe he can get help for his addiction and there might be a future for him. That doesn’t mean I’ll ever forgive him for how he’s been with me.
