Chapter 58
Swann pushed his phone against his ear, side-eyeing the toddler who was making a fuss.
He gave her mother an empathetic nod, but hoped that the child who was kicking her would not be seated next to him on the flight.
He knew he was micromanaging Mitch, but he couldn’t afford to take his foot off the pedal when it came to the case.
He asked Mitch about timelines and the coroner’s early reports.
They stated that Chelsea’s cause of death appeared to be an overdose of sedatives—the same way in which Jenny Flynn had died.
Mitch talked about the fingerprints that had been recovered, but not yet identified.
About the images of a man obtained from nearby CCTV, which matched the description of the male that Sophie, their only living witness, had described.
He talked about the landlord who said the man spoke with a “foreign” accent, but had never met him in the flesh.
Then Mitch told him about the breakthrough involving the human-trafficking ring, which would be hitting the news soon.
And then he said exactly what Swann had been waiting to hear.
“Sienna Thompson is talking. Your plan worked.”
Swann hadn’t forgotten about Sienna Thompson.
He’d been dealing with her in the background.
Just because he wouldn’t allow her to sell them her precious information didn’t mean that he had given up.
Sienna had wanted to get away—at any cost. Which is why he and his superintendent had worked something out.
Witness protection gave Sienna the new start she was desperate for.
Her parting gift was her selling out the gang that had terrorised her and Ant.
Ant wasn’t the angel she professed him to be, but he had lost his future wife and child.
For Swann, that was punishment in itself.
Sienna wasn’t stupid. She’d kept enough evidence to send the gang down.
Ring-camera footage, photos, plans, iPhone recordings.
All insurance in case one day the police came knocking for her.
But nothing bad involving Ant. Nothing at all, apart from documented threats to his life.
“She’s given them all up.” The relief carried on Mitch’s voice. “You’ll get a commendation for this.”
“What about Chelsea? And Liisa? Or Sophie, for that matter? Have the gang anything to do with any of our girls?” The girls mattered more to Swann than any commendation. He rose from his seat, keeping an eye on his boarding time, wishing that Elea hadn’t taken off.
“Phil Hobbs lied through his teeth. It was his idea to sell Chelsea to pay off his drug debt.”
“Fuck!” Swann said, receiving a dirty look from the woman with the child. He delivered an apologetic smile before sidling away from them both.
“Sienna has a recording of one of his phone calls with Ant. We’ve got him banged to rights,” Mitch continued.
“So Ant and his cronies took Chelsea?” Swann frowned.
“No, according to Sienna, they weren’t interested. Chelsea’s disappearance had nothing to do with them.”
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 gang is involved 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.