The Taken Girls: An absolutely gripping crime thriller full of mystery and suspense. G Sanders D
with the Met.’
‘Trust me, Ogborne, a spell outside London won’t prevent you having the career you want. A stint in the provinces will broaden your experience and prepare you for a return to the Met.’
Despite these assurances, Ed hadn’t believed the top brass would put her career in London on hold. However, she’d realized that resistance would not alter the decision and that a fight would harm the career she wanted. She was a realist. This was how the world turned. She would scratch their backs now in the expectation that sometime in the future they would scratch hers. The image had made her shudder.
‘Are you all right, DS Ogborne?’
‘Yes, I’m fine, Sir. It will take a while for me to get used to the idea that I’m leaving the Met.’
‘It won’t be for ever. Give it a few years – we know your worth.’
Ed hadn’t been so sure, but Shawcross had left her in no doubt that a transfer out of the Met would happen.
Even with the Commissioner’s help, negotiating a promotion to DI in the provinces had taken longer than anticipated. Ed and Don were careful to avoid seeing each other at work but the frequent late-night telephone calls continued. Eventually, Ed was offered the post of Detective Inspector in Kent at Canterbury. She accepted immediately. Her transfer from the Met was set for the early summer.
Having decided to make career progression her number one priority, Ed intended the new post to be a short-term move, a brief interruption to her long-term career with the Met. With this in mind, she was determined not to sever her ties with London. She put the Brixton house in the hands of rental agents and most of her personal effects into storage. As a reward to herself she traded her parents’ Honda Civic, and the bulk of the money she’d inherited, for an MX-5 Roadster. The day before the tenants were due to arrive, Ed had squeezed her grandfather’s art books and her CDs, together with two suitcases, into her new car and headed east on the South Circular.
Transferred to Canterbury, many of the books, and all of her CDs, were still in the hotel car park, locked in the boot of her car, but Ed was determined to waste no time finding herself somewhere to live and the books a new home.
In the soft darkness of her hotel room she closed her eyes and was overwhelmed by a vivid memory of the back seat of Craig’s Mercedes the first time they’d parked in a deserted cul-de-sac near one of the south London commons. Craig was long gone, a previous life never to be repeated, but she wanted him with her in the hotel bed. Forcing the desire from her mind, Ed turned on her side and settled to sleep. Tomorrow she would have to negotiate her first meeting with her new line manager, Chief Superintendent Karen Addler.
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.
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