Swann shook his head in disgust as he imagined Hobbs trying to sell Chelsea to the highest bidder. Had their suspect overheard Phil’s conversation in the pub, or was Chelsea a walking target as she walked home alone? Sienna had little reason to lie, now that she was in witness protection and had cut all ties with her other half.
“What about Liisa? I don’t suppose Sienna gave you anything—”
“She said she was bluffing,” Mitch interrupted. “The gangisinvolved in human trafficking, but it deals in blokes for slave labour, not young girls—not that we know of anyway. Sienna just wanted a way out.”
Swann should have been happy with the result, but when it came to the Ice Angels case, another door was slamming in his face. “Any luck with CCTV?” He’d instructed house-to-house enquiries for Ring-doorbell and dashcam footage in the vicinity of their suspect’s rental home.
“I’ve been saving that until last. We’ve got a clear image of what looks like our suspect leaving the rental house. Dashboard footage from a taxi firm tallies with Ring-doorbell images from neighbouring houses at different times.”
Swann frowned as boarding was announced. What a time to be away from work.
“But that’s not all. Jamal targeted his movements on CCTV and tracked him down in town. We’ve got a clear image of him walking into a Tesco Metro.” Mitch’s voice carried a current of excitement. “I’ve sent it over. It’s clear, boss. The super’s putting out an appeal.”
Swann’s phone dinged in his hand. “Hang on.” Swann enlarged the image with his fingers on his phone screen.
“Boss?” Mitch’s voice filtered through.
Swann stared at the image, trying to process the picture before him, while getting in the queue to board. Those haunting, hollow eyes. The thin worried lips, the high cheekbones. The unmistakable scar on his cheek.
“He’s got some balls, walking around Lincoln like that,” Mitch muttered down the line. But desperate people did stupid things, especially those on the run.
Swann checked the supermarket timestamp. It was taken two weeks ago. He cradled his phone to his ear and fiddled with his passport. “Send it to Elea. Tell her we’ve got our man.”
“But...we haven’t got him. Not yet.”
“Send it anyway.” The image could be enough to pull Elea back from the brink of whatever cliff she was ready to hurl herself off.
Swann presented his passport to Finnair staff before returning his attention to the face of the man that had devastated so many lives. Was this Liisa’s kidnapper? Chelsea and Jenny’s murderer? And countless others perhaps? He followed the line of fellow travellers, but his mind was with Elea and how she would react. He barked some more orders at Mitch, detailing instructions for the team’s next moves. “I’m boarding the plane. Keep in touch. Leave a message if I can’t pick up.”
They ended the call. Swann would plan a new strategy during the flight. His phone rang as he approached the plane. Alice. The last time they spoke she’d called him a piece of shit for chasing after Elea. He’d have this inevitable conversation later on, but right now he couldn’t afford any more distractions. He silenced his phone.
Swann showed airline staff his boarding pass as he got on the plane. His pulse was drumming in his chest as he secured his hand luggage beneath the seat in front of his own. He hated flying more than anything. It was only when he’d pulled his seatbelt securely across his waist that he allowed himself to look at his phone. Something was niggling him. He flicked through other images that he had saved previously. For a moment his fear of flying was sent to the back of his mind. Back and forth he flicked the images, as his suspicions played out. Was he imagining the resemblance to Anu, the original Ice Angel? Was this case more complex than they’d ever imagined? Phil Hobbs and his cohorts had been a huge distraction. Swann stared out of the window as the plane prepared for take-off. Maybe he wasn’t just following Elea. He could be chasing their suspect, too.
Chapter 59
Elea parked Maria’s car outside Porvoo police station. The squat, utilitarian building stood solemnly in the quiet night. It was set just off the main road, its brick exterior weathered by relentless Finnish winters. The air was crisp from a recent snowfall, the roads sparkling from newly formed ice. Tense with trepidation, Elea pushed through the door into the warmth of the station lobby. It was eerily quiet. She nodded at the front-desk officer.
“Evening,” he said in response. The broad-shouldered man was called Markku, and he spoke with little emotion as he keyed something into his computer from behind his security glass. He recognised her sufficiently not to question her movements as she let herself inside. She kept her expression neutral, despite the stomach-churning events taking place. Fluorescent lights lit her way as she walked down the dim corridor, the outside cold still biting through the material of her jeans. A faint smell of stale coffee hung in the air and Elea’s fingers brushed the walls as she passed, grounding herself in the rough texture as she planned her next move.
The armoury was at the far end of the hall, past the large open-plan office where local detectives worked during the day. Porvoo wasn’t as busy as Helsinki and tonight the room was faintly lit by the glow of computer monitors in sleep mode. The unpaid hours she had spent in that office, working between there and Helsinki, chasing dead-end leads. Hours wasted in the search for her child. But now it was bearing fruit. Her heart felt like a metronome: strong, steady, and relentless in her search. Her earlier earworm still played on a loop:Anu is alive. Anu is alive.She reached the armoury door, touching the cold metal of the security keypad. The beep of each number echoed in the silent corridor as she punched in the code. Something about this felt so familiar that she almost expected Heikkinen to sidle up behind her, smelling of coffee and cigarettes as he asked what the smoking hell she was up to. The lock clicked as the door was released, and she pulled it open.
The smell of metal and gun oil offered comfort as she assessed the rows of locked cabinets lining the walls. Each one was marked with the name and badge number of the officer assigned to them. Elea found hers quickly. She had no time to waste.
She gripped the familiar weight of the Glock 17 in her hand. The pistol was standard issue, a light and reliable model. Its polymer frame and steel slide were built for durability. Elea knew every facet of this weapon. It had served her well. She always felt more powerful when it was strapped to her side. It held seventeen rounds of 9mm ammo, enough to face whatever lay ahead. She wrapped her fingers around the textured grip. There was no manual safety clip to fiddle with. All she had to do was pull the trigger, if it came to it. She recalled Maria’s face and hoped that it wouldn’t. Her mind swirled with conflicting thoughts, her emotions in turmoil. She inhaled deeply to steady herself, but her thoughts still raced ahead. The tracker on the mobile phone displayed an address. She knew exactly where she needed to go, and it wasn’t that far from here.
She clipped the holster to her belt, the leather cold as it touched her bare hip. She shoved the extra magazine into her pocket. Her grip lingered on her gun. It felt heavier tonight, the weight of responsibility pressing down on her. She prayed she was wrong about Anu. It couldn’t be him. He was the first to be taken. How could he turn round and do the same thing? Yet it felt as if a long-missing piece of the puzzle had clicked into place. Either way, Anu was involved, and Elea would get the truth out of him. She recalled the sight of his room, left just as it had been when he disappeared. The clothes in his wardrobe, the row of Velcro-strap shoes. How could she tell Maria the real reason why her son was on the run?
She turned to leave, catching her reflection in the glass door of one of the nearby offices. Her face was serious, but streaked with worry. All the hours she’d spent analysing paperwork, retracing steps, linking each case. All the people she’d looked into, both here and in the UK. Broken mothers. Criminals who put a price on human life. She had seen the worst of humanity, and she wasn’t done yet.
She walked towards her car, her skin prickling from the sudden return to the cold. She fixed the phone in place and turned over the engine. A sudden beam of headlights made her blink. She exhaled in relief as it passed. She would take things steady. Snow-chains had been fitted to the tyres of Maria’s car. She’d need them where she was going: To the cabin, deep in the woods.
Chapter 60
Liisa
“Have you got everything?”
Shoulder-to-shoulder, Mikael and I walk through the lonely supermarket aisles. He is embarrassed because I’m here to buy what he calls “female things.” He walks awkwardly by my side as I pick up tampons and sanitary towels—items Johanna had told me about, two whole years ago, before she died. It seems like an eternity ago now. Until recently I’ve been so embarrassed that I’d been making do with balled-up socks and wads of toilet paper. I kept my secret for as long as I could. It is hard when you don’t have a mother or sister to turn to for advice. I don’t know what size to get.
