Kitabı oku: «A DCI Anna Tate Crime Thriller»
Copyright
Published by AVON
A Division of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd
1 London Bridge Street
London SE1 9GF
www.harpercollins.co.uk
First published in Great Britain by Avon Books 2019
Copyright © J.P. Carter 2019
Cover design © Cherie Chapman 2018
J.P. Carter asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this ebook on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.
Source ISBN: 9780008313272
Ebook Edition © November 2018 ISBN: 9780008313289
Version: 2019-03-15
Dedication
This one is for my loving wife Catherine
Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Prologue
Chapter One: Day one
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven: July 2009
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen: July 2009
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two: Day two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One: Day three
Chapter Forty-Two
Chapter Forty-Three
Chapter Forty-Four
Chapter Forty-Five
Chapter Forty-Six
Chapter Forty-Seven
Chapter Forty-Eight
Chapter Forty-Nine
Chapter Fifty
Chapter Fifty-One
Chapter Fifty-Two
Chapter Fifty-Three
Chapter Fifty-Four
Chapter Fifty-Five
Chapter Fifty-Six
Chapter Fifty-Seven
Chapter Fifty-Eight
Chapter Fifty-Nine: Day four
Epilogue
Acknowledgements
Keep Reading …
About the Author
About the Publisher
PROLOGUE
Tasha Norris loved her job as a nursery school teacher. Watching the children at play always filled her with a deep sense of wellbeing.
Today was no exception. There were only nine of the little mites in this morning, but their squeals and laughter had already lifted her spirits. They were so entertaining, so happy, and so excited to have been let loose in the nursery’s bright and airy playroom.
Tasha’s colleague, Paige, was trying to get them together so that they could listen to the first story of the day. But as usual, they weren’t taking any notice.
Four-year-old Grace was lost in a world of her own as she pretended to cook a meal on the toy stove, concentrating hard as she boiled a wooden egg in a little saucepan. And five-year-old Sahib was too busy racing around the room on a red fire engine to pay the teacher any attention. Meanwhile, Daniel and Liam, both aged three, were fully focused on seeing who could build the highest tower using wooden bricks. Little Molly sat at a table next to them, seemingly oblivious to her surroundings as she worked on her latest masterpiece – a painting of her entire family, including mum, dad, brother and pet goldfish Flipper.
Just being here with them made Tasha realise yet again how much she wanted a child of her own. She and Steve had been married for less than a year, so she had to try and be patient. Aged twenty-three, Tasha knew she had plenty of time to keep trying, and in the meantime she would enjoy looking after other people’s children. She couldn’t imagine doing anything else for a living, and she was so grateful to Sarah Ramsay for taking her on seven months ago. Tasha had loved every minute of every working day. And she’d learned so much about toddlers, tantrums and those tearful confessions that challenge you to keep a straight face.
Paige was now clapping her hands to get the children’s attention. But the only one who responded was four-year-old Simone, who rushed into the large plastic playhouse while shouting, ‘You can’t catch me, you can’t catch me.’
As always, getting all the kids to stop what they were doing became a team effort. Emma, the other teacher on duty, tried to coax Sahib off the fire engine after he rammed it into one of the doors. And Tasha played her part by trying to convince Molly that her picture was finished and she should leave it to dry.
Sarah emerged from her office to help out. She was the owner of the Peabody Nursery chain and the most experienced at dealing with groups of pre-schoolers. To Tasha she was the perfect role model. She’d built up a successful business doing what she enjoyed and went to great lengths to make the staff as well as the children feel comfortable.
‘It’s time for a story, boys and girls,’ she said aloud. ‘Who wants to know what happens to the naughty monkey?’
Two of the children reacted by jumping up and down on the spot. Three others put their hands in the air but carried on with what they were doing. The rest ignored her.
‘I see we’re in for one of those mornings,’ she said with a broad smile. ‘It must be the warm weather.’
Before she could try again she was distracted by the sound of the front doorbell ringing.
‘Do you want me to go and answer it?’ Tasha asked, having persuaded Molly to stand up and step away from her paints.
Sarah shook her head. ‘No, I’ll get it. You carry on trying to round up the little munchkins.’
It didn’t take long. As soon as a couple of them were sitting cross-legged in front of the storyteller’s chair, the others followed suit. Tasha volunteered to be this morning’s reader, and Emma handed her the book that had been chosen by one of the children.
But just as Tasha was about to begin reading, Sarah came back into the room with several visitors in tow. And from the look on her boss’s face, Tasha sensed straight away that something was wrong.
Minutes later, the nightmare began.
CHAPTER ONE
Day one
It was a quiet morning so Detective Chief Inspector Anna Tate was taking the opportunity to get to grips with the pile of paperwork on her desk. There were witness statements, forensic reports, and dozens of crime scene photographs.
All the documents and pictures related to the eleven ongoing cases that were being dealt with by the Major Investigation Team based in Wandsworth, South London.
The team were making slow progress on most of them, partly because they had run out of leads and partly because resources were almost at breaking point. But it was the same story all across London, which had been hit by a perfect storm of soaring crime and police manpower cuts.
For Anna the quiet days were the hardest because she had too much time to dwell on the personal issues that made her life so difficult. This morning her thoughts kept switching between her troubled past and the argument she’d had the previous evening with Tom over their future together.
It was why she was finding it difficult to concentrate on the file she was currently wading through. This one dealt with the murder of a teenage girl in Battersea. Her body had been found four months ago and they were still no nearer to finding her killer.
Anna sighed as she picked up a photograph of the girl’s body lying in a narrow alley. She’d been badly beaten and sexually assaulted, and it had happened only three days before her sixteenth birthday.
Anna was still staring at the photo half a minute later when her office door was thrust open and Detective Inspector Max Walker came rushing in. His face was pinched and tense and his bald head was shiny with perspiration.
He held up a sheet of paper and said, ‘We’ve got a live one, guv. Call just came in and it sounds pretty serious.’
Anna was at once alert. Even though he was still in his early thirties, Walker was one of the most experienced members of her team, and he was not prone to exaggeration.
‘There’s an ongoing incident at a nursery school in Peabody Street, Rotherhithe,’ he said. ‘Three men with guns entered the place and locked the all-female staff in a storeroom. There are four of them and one has been badly beaten.’
Anna jumped to her feet.
‘Who called it in?’
‘One of the women from inside the room. She used a phone the men didn’t know they had.’
‘Jesus. If it’s a nursery then there must be children.’
Walker nodded. ‘There are nine kids apparently, but the staff have no idea what’s happening to them because they were put into another room.’
Anna felt her chest contract as the adrenalin fizzed through her veins.
‘Have shots been fired?’ she asked.
Walker shook his head. ‘Not so far.’
‘Thank God for that.’ She grabbed her jacket from the back of her chair. ‘We’d better get over there fast.’
Minutes later they were in an unmarked pool car that was among dozens of police vehicles from all over South London converging on the Peabody Nursery School in Rotherhithe. Walker was driving while Anna concentrated on the constant stream of updates over the radio.
She learned that an armed response team was being dispatched and that the three men who had descended on the nursery had posed as detectives from Rotherhithe CID.
She also took a call on her phone from her boss, Detective Chief Superintendent Bill Nash.
‘I’ve just been told what’s going down,’ he said. ‘I’m in a meeting at the Yard so I’ll be monitoring the situation from here. Meanwhile, you’re authorised to assume the role of senior investigating officer. Everyone will know by the time you get there.’
‘Thank you, sir,’ Anna said. ‘I’ll keep you posted.’
Information was continuing to come from the woman who had called it in. She’d identified herself as Sarah Ramsay, the owner and manager of the nursery. The emergency operator had kept her on the line so that she was effectively providing a running commentary. But what she had to say was useful only up to a point. She didn’t know if the armed men were still on the premises or if the children were being held hostage.
Not knowing what to expect when they got there was causing Anna’s stomach to twist with grim apprehension.
‘We should be there in under ten minutes, guv,’ Walker said as he stamped on the accelerator, propelling them through a set of red lights with the siren blaring.
Anna did a Google search for the Peabody Nursery in Rotherhithe. She discovered that it was one of a chain of half a dozen Peabody Nurseries across London that catered for children between the ages of three and five. The one in Rotherhithe was the first, hence the name of the chain. There were exterior photos of the single-storey building and the bright and cheerful rooms inside.
It had its own website that described it as a school where parents could ‘leave their little ones in the knowledge that they would always be safe and secure’.
Anna reflected on the horrible irony of this statement as Walker steered them through the traffic at breakneck speed. She could no longer distinguish whether the pulsing in her ears and the hard pounding in her chest were caused by the shrill siren of the police car, or the sheer dread she felt as they got closer to Rotherhithe. Anna swallowed hard as she gripped the corner of her seat, concentrating on the road in front of her and pushing thoughts of what they might find when they reached their destination to the back of her mind.
CHAPTER TWO
They got to Peabody Street just minutes after the armed response team. Two squad cars had also just arrived and were being used to cordon off the road at both ends.
A uniformed officer waved them down and gestured for Walker to park against the kerb behind one of the ARVs.
Anna climbed out and flashed her warrant card, then hurried over to where the armed officers had gathered on the pavement in front of the nursery school. It was sandwiched between a three-storey block of flats and a church community centre. The small, red-brick building was set back behind a five-foot-high wall, and the front door stood half open. There were two cars parked on the forecourt, but no sign of life.
The armed officers – members of Scotland Yard’s specialist firearms command – were waiting behind the wall for the signal to go in. All six were kitted out in black helmets, visors and Kevlar body armour. They carried assault rifles and Glock 17 pistols.
Anna approached the team leader and was pleased to discover that they knew each other. Jason Fuller was a tall, middle-aged guy with craggy features and a strong jawline. Their paths had crossed more than a few times over the years.
‘I heard you were on your way,’ he said. ‘And I’m guessing you know about as much as I do.’
Anna nodded. ‘Four female staff members locked in a storeroom by three men who turned up armed with guns. It happened about forty minutes ago. And there were nine children here at the time who were apparently put into another room.’
‘And we don’t know if the perps are still inside or if we’re dealing with a hostage situation.’
‘That about sums it up,’ Anna said. ‘But we can’t afford to hang around waiting for something to happen. We have to go in.’
‘I agree, but not before we’re ready. There are no sounds coming from inside, and so far we haven’t spotted movement at any of the windows. I’ve got my men checking the rear of the building and I want to see if we’ll get a response through a megaphone appeal first.’
Anna knew that he was right to be cautious. If the three men were still inside then God only knew how they were going to react when they stormed the building. The counter-terrorism unit were also on standby, though the very thought of this being a terrorist attack caused the blood to stiffen in Anna’s veins. Behind her, a police radio crackled and she heard a disembodied voice informing everyone that the women were still locked in the storeroom.
Walker was standing right behind her with several uniforms. She saw that two more squad cars and an ambulance had turned up. Neighbours had also started to gather beyond the cordons.
The scene was bathed in bright August sunshine and the temperature was rising. Anna’s blouse was already sticking to her back beneath her jacket.
She’d been a copper for seventeen years and had never experienced a situation quite like this before, where nine infants were thought to be involved and at risk. Nine toddlers, presumed to be between the ages of three and five; completely helpless and vulnerable. Were they still in the building, locked up in a different room from that in which the staff were being held captive? And, if so, had they been harmed in any way? Or were they about to be?
Anna swallowed hard as an icy dread formed in her throat. There were too many unanswered questions at this stage. Too much they didn’t know. It might have appeared to the onlookers that they had the situation under control but that was far from the truth.
‘There’s more info on the woman who’s been beaten up,’ Walker said, as he stepped up beside her while holding his phone against his ear. ‘Her name’s Tasha Norris and one of the gunman smashed her over the head with the butt of his pistol. She’s unconscious and in a bad way apparently.’
All the more reason to go in, Anna thought. She turned back to Fuller and saw that he’d been handed a megaphone.
‘I just heard from our guys around the back,’ he told her. ‘The garden’s empty but the rear door is wide open. Nobody is visible, though.’
He raised the megaphone to his mouth and faced the nursery. As he spoke through it, his voice drowned out all other sound.
‘This building is surrounded by armed police,’ he said. ‘I urge everyone inside to drop your weapons and leave through the front door with your arms in the air, otherwise we will be forced to enter the building.’
There was no response, and the silence that followed screamed in Anna’s ears.
‘We have no choice now but to go in,’ she said after about twenty seconds.
That was Fuller’s cue to mobilise his team. He waved his hand and gave instructions through his headset microphone.
His officers responded by rushing through the open gate and across the forecourt. Anna watched from beyond the wall. As always, she was impressed by their slick professionalism and the fact that they were prepared to put their own lives on the line. The raw tension in the air was palpable and Anna found herself holding her breath as she waited for something to happen.
Thankfully the team encountered no resistance as they approached the building. They paused only briefly before stepping through the open door. The absence of gunfire prompted Anna to follow them, and Walker and several uniforms were close behind.
She heard shouting from inside as she got close to the entrance and assumed it was Fuller’s men announcing their presence.
She stayed outside until the all-clear was given after less than a minute. Her internal dialogue was on prayer mode as she stepped inside: Please, God, let the children be unharmed …
Passing through the doorway, she noticed the security camera above it and the password-protected panel on the wall. She logged the information in her brain to consider later when it came to determining how the men had got into the building.
A short corridor led to a door giving access to a large, brightly coloured playroom. It was crammed with toys, miniature vehicles, a playhouse and several tables cluttered with crayons, drawing paper and books.
But Anna’s attention was seized by loud cries coming from one of the four other rooms that led off the playroom.
‘It must be the storeroom,’ Fuller said, pointing to the closed door. ‘We can’t find the key so we’re gonna have to break it open.’
One of his men was telling those inside to calm down and step away from the door. The same officer then used his boot to kick at it three times before it gave way.
There was a light on inside the storeroom and it revealed a sight that made every muscle in Anna’s body go stiff.
A woman was lying on the floor with the back of her head resting in a small pool of her own blood. Two other women were kneeling beside her and a third was standing over them with a mobile phone in her hand.
‘Tasha needs to get to a hospital,’ one of them cried out. ‘We can’t wake her up.’
The distraught women all appeared to be in their twenties or early thirties and were casually dressed in matching blue T-shirts and jeans. Their eyes were cloudy with fear and their faces awash with tears.
‘Stay calm and step out,’ Anna said, keeping her voice low so as not to inflame an already stressful situation. ‘We’ll call the paramedics.’
The women quickly exited the room, and Anna half expected them to break down in floods of tears. But instead all three dashed across the playroom to one of the other doors that had a sign on it which read: Quiet Room.
The first to reach it peered inside and then let out an anguished cry that sent a bolt of ice down Anna’s spine.
‘Oh my God,’ the woman screamed. ‘They’re gone.’
Anna stepped forward and looked into the room, which contained a sofa, a few chairs and a low table.
One of the other women turned to the nearest uniformed officer and said, ‘Have you searched the rest of the building? Are the children here?’
The officer shook his head. ‘I’m afraid not.’
The woman’s hand flew to her mouth. ‘Those men must have taken them,’ she said, her voice cracking with emotion. ‘They’ve been abducted.’
Anna closed her eyes, steadied her breathing. That word: abducted. As always, it stirred up painful memories and caused an ache to swell in her chest. She shook her head, swallowed hard, and realised that this case was going to be an emotional rollercoaster.
CHAPTER THREE
Ruth Brady checked her watch and saw that she had time for one more cup of coffee. She didn’t have to be at the restaurant until midday and it would only take her roughly forty-five minutes to get there.
She put the kettle on and as it started to boil she decided to phone her husband to let him know about her change of plan.
She went back into the living room, fished her mobile from her handbag, and speed-dialled Ethan’s number. While she waited for him to answer she stepped over to the window and looked out on a lovely bright morning. Their two-storey town house was in the heart of Bermondsey and overlooked a busy main road. But rush hour was over and the traffic was moving freely.
When Ethan didn’t answer she assumed that he must be in a meeting, so she tapped out a short text message.
Had to drop Liam off at the nursery after all. Will explain why later. Will you be able to pick him up at 4pm if I’m not back in time? Xx
She hadn’t planned on taking Liam to the nursery today. Ethan had bought them tickets for the Shrek Adventure attraction in central London. He’d had to pull out himself but had insisted that she should go and treat their son to a fun day out.
And she’d intended to do just that until she got the call from Howard Browning, the editor of a new London-based magazine. Browning had invited her to a meeting at a restaurant close to his office across the Thames in Wapping. He wanted to talk about some feature ideas Ruth had submitted. As a freelance journalist keen to increase the income from her work, it was too good an opportunity for her to pass up.
Ethan earned a good salary as a computer programmer, but living in London was expensive. There was the usual mortgage and bills, but council tax and parking fees were extortionate in comparison to other parts of the country. Plus there were the costs associated with Liam’s condition, a condition that blighted his life and theirs.
She still turned cold whenever she thought back to how the hospital consultant broke the news to them shortly after their son was born three years ago.
‘I’m sorry to have to tell you that Liam has cystic fibrosis,’ he said, and when he saw the confusion on their faces, he added, ‘It’s a condition that can be treated but not cured. And life expectancy is in the mid-forties.’
In the weeks that followed they found out all they could about cystic fibrosis, or CF. While Ruth had become used to reeling off the same line as means of explanation: ‘It causes mucus to clog vital arteries and the digestive system, making it difficult to breathe and digest food’, she didn’t think she would ever come to terms with the fact that Liam’s life would be short and difficult, a journey he’d only just started.
Coping with it wasn’t easy. Ruth hadn’t been able to return to her full-time position as a staff journalist after maternity leave because looking after Liam was a job in itself, with frequent trips to the hospital for check-ups and physiotherapy sessions. They also had to administer regular doses of medication and do their best to ensure he didn’t fall victim to infections.
And that was one of their concerns when they decided to enrol their son in the Peabody Nursery School. They wanted him to grow and develop and learn how to socialise with other children and adults, but they also wanted to make sure that he was in safe hands.
‘We’ll take good care of him, Mr and Mrs Brady,’ the nursery owner, Sarah Ramsay, had assured them. ‘We know how to respond to the needs of children with serious conditions who are nevertheless able to lead relatively normal lives.’
That had been seven months ago and not once had they had to call Ruth to say that he’d had any difficulties, or taken a turn for the worse.
Still, she couldn’t help feeling guilty for not taking him to see Shrek today. And Ethan was surely going to be annoyed, having gone to the trouble of buying the tickets.
But Ruth was confident that Liam would be having just as much fun playing with his little friends, including his best pal Daniel, a little boy whose parents had moved from Ghana to the UK only a year ago. The pair were inseparable, and when she’d dropped Liam off this morning he had run straight over to Daniel who had surrounded himself with piles of colourful wooden bricks.
She’d noticed that there were relatively few children in – only nine as opposed to the usual twenty or so. Sarah Ramsay had explained that attendance always fell off once the holiday season got underway.
Ruth put her phone back in her bag and returned to the kitchen to pour her coffee, which she drank with a couple of digestive biscuits.
Before leaving the house she checked her reflection in the hall mirror, and contemplated the fact that the woman staring back at her looked older than twenty-nine. The last few years had taken their toll with the strain of looking after Liam.
Her long, ash-blonde hair was still in good shape, but there were bags beneath her eyes that seemed more pronounced through her wire-framed glasses. She’d also lost weight without meaning to, and she was sure that it made her look slightly emaciated.
Still, she’d never been one to fret about her appearance so she hadn’t allowed any of that stuff to dent her self-confidence.
She always made an effort to look smart, and today she was hoping that the new trouser suit she was wearing would impress Howard Browning. She wanted to come across as a sharp and savvy journalist who could write interesting and original features for his new magazine.
It was approaching eleven o’clock when she left the house and went outside. Their car – a Peugeot 308 – was parked in a designated bay at the rear of the block. Because they lived in London it didn’t get used much and there were still only seven thousand miles on the clock. Ethan travelled on the tube to work and when they went out as a family they used public transport.
Ruth was feeling upbeat and confident as she climbed in behind the wheel and started the engine. It helped that it was such a pleasant Monday morning. Up until the weekend August had been a washout and heavy showers had blasted London and the South East.
She switched on the radio and caught a top-of-the-hour news bulletin. There was a sense of real urgency in the announcer’s voice as he told listeners about a breaking story in South London. Intrigued, Ruth paused before backing out of the bay.
‘Reports are coming in of a serious ongoing incident at a nursery school in Peabody Street, Rotherhithe. Armed police have been called there and the street has been cordoned off. It’s understood the incident involves children and staff members. That’s all we know at the moment, but we’ll bring you further details as soon as we have them.’
Ruth froze as she tried to process what she had just heard. She couldn’t believe it. Or rather she didn’t want to believe it. Surely it had to be a terrible mistake – or a cruel example of fake news.
Nevertheless the announcer’s words sat cold inside her, and her heart started banging in her throat.
She took out her phone and her hand shook as she scrolled through her contacts for the Peabody Nursery number. But after tapping the call icon all she got was the engaged tone.
She knew what she had to do. The nursery was only about a mile away and she could be there in minutes, traffic permitting.
As she shoved the gearstick into reverse the fear and dread swelled up inside her. She started yelling at herself not to panic, that everything was going to be all right and that Liam was perfectly safe.
But there was a voice inside her head that said otherwise. It was telling her that something bad had happened to her precious little boy.
CHAPTER FOUR
The paramedics who attended to Tasha Norris confirmed that her condition was serious and that it was touch and go as to whether she’d survive.
She was the only one who’d been attacked and it was because she put up a fight when they were being forced into the storeroom.
She’d received two vicious blows to the head and one to the face. Her nose was shattered and there were two open wounds below her unruly mop of dark brown hair.
As Tasha was being stretchered out of the building, Anna was approached by Sarah Ramsay, who was understandably still shocked and confused after the ordeal.
‘One of us should go with her to the hospital,’ she said. ‘We can’t let her go by herself.’
‘You and your colleagues need to stay here so that you can give me more details about what happened,’ Anna said. ‘But don’t worry. She’s in good hands and will be accompanied by one of my officers.’
‘Then someone should call her husband,’ Sarah said, as she took a mobile phone from her jeans pocket and held it up. ‘This belongs to her. His number will be on it.’
‘What’s his name?’
‘Steve. Steve Norris. They live in Salter Road.’
Anna took the phone from her and gave it to DI Walker, who was standing beside her.
‘Make the call, Max,’ she said. ‘And then phone the office and get more bodies down here, fast. Tell them to drop everything else.’
Anna returned her attention to Sarah, who was still struggling to compose herself. She was a tall, sinewy woman of about thirty, with thick, lustrous black hair and a pale, flawless complexion. Black rivulets of mascara stained her cheeks.
Just thirty minutes had elapsed since she and the two teachers who worked for her had emerged from the cramped storeroom. So far they had given only a brief account of what had happened because of the state they were all in. Anna now needed them to flesh out their story; every detail could be pivotal to the investigation and to the search for the children.
‘I’d like you to join your colleagues,’ Anna said. ‘I want to go through everything again from the moment the three men turned up.’
Sarah nodded. ‘Of course, but I don’t think there’s much more I can tell you that would be helpful. It happened so quickly.’
‘Let me be the judge of that, Miss Ramsay. I’ll come and talk to you in just a minute. There are a few things I have to do first.’
Anna asked a PC to escort Sarah next door to the community centre, which had been commandeered because the nursery was now a crime scene and forensic officers would soon be all over it, looking for any evidence the men had left behind.
Sarah’s two colleagues were already there, but Sarah hadn’t yet joined them because she’d been asked to provide a list of the children who’d been taken. The list, complete with photographs, was now being circulated, and the parents were being informed as a matter of urgency.
There were four boys and five girls. Their innocence shone through in each photograph and Anna blinked away the tears that began filling her eyes as she stared at them, desperately trying to keep her mind on the next steps of the case to avoid thinking of what awful things might soon be happening to them.
She paused for a moment to take stock of the situation. She was still in the playroom, surrounded by detectives and uniformed officers who were waiting to be told what to do.
This was a high-impact crime that was going to appal the nation and present MIT with its toughest ever challenge. As the SIO, Anna would be under considerable pressure to resolve it quickly. But she knew already that it wasn’t going to be easy. It was obvious that the gang had carefully planned the crime and had executed it with shocking precision.
She felt sure that it would have involved more than just three men. It was likely that they’d had at least one other person waiting outside while they went into the building. He or she might have been tasked with looking after whatever vehicle was used to take the children away.
Anna had already made it clear to everyone that she was in charge and had called DCS Nash to update him. Now she began issuing instructions to those around her.
‘Someone should check the security camera at the front entrance,’ she said. ‘It should have picked up the men when they arrived. I also want details of all CCTV cameras located within a half-mile radius of Peabody Street. And start questioning neighbours. I can’t believe the kids weren’t seen being led out of the building and into a large van or small coach. It would have taken time, especially if some of the children were upset and didn’t want to go.’
She was told that a couple of the parents had got in touch before being contacted because the story had broken and was being carried on TV and radio bulletins.
‘We should make preparations to talk to them in the community centre,’ Anna said. ‘My guess is they’ll be desperate to come here and see for themselves what’s going on. I know I would. It’ll suit us because we can speak to them all together as well as individually and that’ll save time.’
‘I’ll put the wheels in motion,’ Walker said. ‘Meanwhile, I just spoke to Tasha Norris’s husband. He was at work but now he’s on his way to the hospital.’
‘Well, let’s hope that the poor woman pulls through,’ Anna said. ‘If she doesn’t then we could find ourselves dealing with a murder as well as a kidnapping.’
Anna left it at that for the time being and went outside. Two support vehicles were now parked on the community centre forecourt, and more people had joined the crowds at either end of the street. Some were holding mobile phones aloft to take photos of what was going on.
Anna was gagging for a cigarette but there was no time. She needed to have another conversation with Sarah Ramsay and the teachers, then bring a semblance of order to the investigation. Right now, things were a bit chaotic and too many questions remained unanswered.
As she walked towards the community centre she spotted a Sky News van with a large satellite dish perched on the roof. It never ceased to amaze her how quickly the media managed to turn up at crime scenes. She suspected that they were regularly monitoring police radio frequencies.
It suddenly occurred to her that the sooner they appealed for help from the public, the better. The Yard’s media liaison team would probably tell her to hold fire until she had more information. But she saw no need to.
She made it known that she wanted to give the media a short statement and told uniform to allow the TV crew and any press people through the cordon.
It transpired that there were two newspaper reporters present as well as the Sky crew. Anna introduced herself and explained that she was only prepared to make a brief statement and was not in a position to answer lots of questions.
‘The facts are these,’ she said, making a point of not looking directly into the camera. ‘Three men with pistols burst into the Peabody Nursery here in Rotherhithe just before nine this morning. There were nine children inside at the time and the men herded them into one of the side rooms. The men then forced the four members of staff, all female, into a separate room. One of the women is on her way to hospital to be treated for a serious head injury.
‘The police were alerted at nine twenty-three a.m. from a mobile belonging to a member of staff. We arrived at the scene approximately fifteen minutes later to find that none of the children were present at the nursery. We are therefore treating this as a serious abduction and are appealing for anyone who might have information to come forward.
‘The kidnappers would almost certainly have put the children into a small bus or large van. Hopefully we’ll soon know more about that after we’ve examined CCTV footage. But in the meantime we’d like to hear from anyone who saw the children being led away or saw anything else that appeared suspicious this morning in Peabody Street.’
‘Have you got descriptions of the men?’ the Sky reporter asked as she thrust her microphone towards Anna.
‘They were all white,’ Anna said. ‘Two of them looked to be in their late twenties or thirties and one was older, perhaps mid to late fifties. They were wearing suits and they were posing as detectives from a local police station, which is how they gained access to the building.’
‘Is it possible this is a terrorist attack?’ This from a young fresh-faced hack who identified himself as Luke Dennis from the Evening Standard.
Anna’s expression remained neutral. ‘At this stage we don’t know who they are or what their motive is. But we’ll be liaising with the Anti-Terrorism Command as well as the Met’s Kidnap Unit. Currently the Major Investigation Team, of which I’m the senior officer, is leading the operation.’
The same reporter then asked a second question that completely threw Anna.
‘Can you please confirm that you’re the same detective whose own daughter was abducted ten years ago and who recently gave an interview to a Sunday magazine?’
Anna drew a sharp breath and felt an uncomfortable tightness in her chest.
She could see where the reporter was going with this and she wasn’t happy. It was a good human interest angle to the story, the sort of thing the papers loved, but Anna refused to let it be pursued.
‘That has no relevance to the investigation,’ she said brusquely.
The reporter raised his brow. ‘Well, I beg to differ, DCI Tate. Surely you can see—’
She shook her head. ‘All I can see is you trying to make something out of nothing, Mr Dennis. What happened to my own daughter has no bearing on this case whatsoever. And I’m not prepared to waste precious time talking about it.’
‘But the families will want to know that—’
He didn’t get to finish what he was saying because he was suddenly distracted by an ear-splitting scream.
Anna, along with everyone else, turned towards the sound and saw a woman struggling with a police officer in the road between two squad cars.
She knew instinctively that the woman would turn out to be the mother of one of the nine children – and that she had rushed here to confront what was her and every other parent’s worst nightmare.
CHAPTER FIVE
Ruth screamed again, this time at the stupid fucking copper who was holding her back. He had her arm in a vice-like grip and was squeezing so hard it hurt.
‘You need to calm down, madam,’ he was saying. ‘This area has been closed off to members of the public.’
‘But I want to see my son,’ she told him for the third time. ‘I need to know that he’s all right. He’s in the nursery.’
The officer put his other arm around her shoulders and his voice softened.
‘Look, let me sit you in one of the patrol cars while I go and find someone to help you.’
‘You can help by letting me through,’ she yelled at him. ‘I need to know what’s going on. Is Liam OK? Has he been hurt? Please let me go inside so that I can find out.’
‘I’m sorry, but that’s just not possible.’
She was suddenly aware that she was attracting a lot of attention. Other people were coming towards her, including a man who was holding what looked like a large video camera. It made her panic even more, and a wave of fear crashed over her like a wave.
‘Will someone please tell me what is happening?’ she cried. ‘My name is Ruth Brady and my son Liam is here in the nursery. Why won’t you let me see him? He’s three years old for heaven’s sake.’
She was hyperventilating now, unable to get her breathing under control. Tears of frustration blurred her vision, and her heart was pumping so fast it was making her dizzy.
The policeman released his grip on her arm and said something to her that she didn’t understand.
Then she heard another voice. A woman’s voice. It was calmer, clearer, friendlier.
‘Just try to relax and take some deep breaths,’ the woman was saying. ‘You’re going to be all right. I promise. My name is Anna. Detective Anna Tate. And I’m going to explain everything to you.’
Ruth gradually started to breathe normally again as she was taken under the wing of the detective with the strong but kindly voice.
The woman held onto her elbow and steered her away from the group of people who had gathered in the road. A couple of individuals tried to ask her questions but they were prevented from doing so by police officers who shouted at them to step back.
When Ruth realised that she wasn’t being escorted into the nursery she stopped walking and turned to the detective.
‘Where are you taking me?’ she said, her voice high and shrill.
‘Next door to the community centre,’ the detective said. ‘The people who manage it have made it available to us.’
Ruth shook her head. ‘But I don’t understand. Why are you stopping people from going into the nursery? Where are the children? Where’s my son?’
Detective Tate sucked in a breath and cleared her throat. For some reason the woman seemed familiar to Ruth, though she was sure they had never met.
Ruth guessed that Tate was in her early forties. She had an attractive face, but the lines around her mouth and the sagging skin beneath her eyes told Ruth that Detective Tate hadn’t had an easy life.
‘The thing is, a serious crime has been committed here,’ the detective said. ‘I’m really sorry to have to tell you that your son and the other children who were here this morning have been abducted by three men who entered the nursery posing as police officers. The staff were locked in the storeroom. We’re going to do everything we can to get the children back safely.’
Ruth felt a tight spasm in her chest as the shock resonated through her. Her centre of gravity seemed to tilt, and she had to lean against Tate for support.
On the drive here, she had tried to brace herself for bad news, but this wasn’t what she had expected to hear. This was simply beyond belief.
She attempted to speak, to ask another question, but all she managed to do was make a strange noise in the back of her throat.
‘Let me get you into the centre,’ Detective Tate said. ‘You’re in shock and you need to sit down.’
Ruth felt the detective’s arm around her waist and then she was gently urged along the pavement to the community centre, a building she had seen many times but had never set foot in before.
She walked quickly, autopilot taking over, while at the same time her mind flooded with images of Liam. She saw him as he was this morning, dressed in his favourite Superman T-shirt and baggy denim jeans with the drawstring waistband.
She recalled how she had kissed him goodbye and told him that either mummy or daddy would pick him up later. And she remembered how excited he’d been as he rushed across the playroom to join his little pal Daniel.
But then Ruth remembered something else. She remembered that today she was supposed to have taken Liam to the Shrek Adventure on the South Bank. But she had decided not to because she’d elected to meet up with a magazine editor instead. A hot spike of guilt sliced through her chest.
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