Chapter Seventeen
Josie
The station is buzzing when I arrive. My head is throbbing with a punishing hangover. The Alka-Seltzer I took earlier has done nothing to help.
Babs, our sharp-eyed administrator, greets me with a smirk. ‘You look like you could use a strong coffee.’
‘I could use more hours in bed,’ I say with a groan, collapsing into a chair. ‘The boys were louder than ever this morning.’
‘Kids know when to strike,’ she says, and laughs.
I push myself out of the chair and stand up. ‘I’ll make some coffee. Has Dario come in yet?’
‘He’s in interview room one. Some bloke’s van was nicked. He said to send you in when you got here.’
I make two coffees and walk into the interview room. A man in his early forties sits opposite Dario, looking uneasy.
‘Hi, I’m DS Blackford,’ I say, handing Dario his coffee.
‘This is Mr Reynolds,’ Dario says. ‘His van was stolen on Tuesday night, from Berton.’
I raise my eyebrows. ‘Why are you only reporting it now?’ I ask. ‘That was two days ago.’
Mr Reynolds shifts in his seat. ‘Well, I thought my son had taken it. He just passed his test. He told me he was heading to a festival with his mates, so I said they could use the van. I left the key in the ignition and nipped to the pub. Later that night, he came home fuming, saying the van wasn’t there when he went to pick it up.
Everything from the boot had been dumped in the front garden.
At first, I thought he’d done it, but he swore it was already like that when he came to pick it up. ’
‘Maybe he took it, trashed it and didn’t know how to tell you,’ I suggest.
‘He’d know better than to lie to me,’ he says firmly.
‘You do realise leaving keys in the ignition practically invites theft?’ I say.
He nods sheepishly.
‘Where exactly was it parked?’
‘On the driveway, outside the garage. I’m a builder. I keep all my tools inside, and the van is left outside. It’s an old van, though. Not worth much.’
‘We’ve got the reg,’ Dario adds.
‘But they didn’t steal the tools? Are there any security cameras? Did the neighbours see anything?’
‘I already asked around, and no one near us has cameras.’
‘We’ll circulate the details, but honestly, it’s probably been dumped,’ Dario tells him. ‘You’ll need to report it to your insurance. We’ll give you the incident number.’
Reynolds sighs and stands up, clearly deflated. ‘Do you know what a new van costs?’
‘Next time, I suggest you take the keys with you,’ I reply.
He storms out, slamming the door. My head protests loudly.
‘Rough night?’ Dario asks.
‘Something like that,’ I mutter. ‘I’m on soft drinks from now on.’
He touches my arm. That same strange jolt runs through me. ‘I meant what I said last night. If you ever need to talk…’
‘Thanks, Dario. Really.’
As we step back into the hubbub of the station, he asks, ‘Who was your friend from last night?’
I grin. ‘Gil? She’s got the hots for you. Want me to introduce you? She’s a surgeon at the Churchill.’
He pulls a face. ‘She’s nice, but not my type. I just wondered why she rushed off like that.’
‘Tinder date,’ I say with a shrug.
He grimaces. ‘Tinder? Is she that desperate?’
‘Maybe you should try it,’ I say teasingly.
‘Piss off,’ he says, but he laughs.
I drain my coffee, which has not helped with the hangover, and grab my coat. ‘We should check out Berton. There are numerous places where a van could be abandoned. Insurance won’t get him much. What colour is the van?’
‘White,’ says Dario.
I sigh. I don’t like to imagine how many white vans there are in the area.
***
Gil
Gil couldn’t afford another mistake. She wasn’t with it, and people were beginning to notice.
‘You okay?’ asked Rich, the anaesthetist, eyeing her with concern.
‘Yeah. Fine,’ she said – just a touch too quickly.
The moment the surgery finished, she bolted to the staff toilets, locked herself in a cubicle, and sat with her head in her hands. The smell of disinfectant only intensified her nausea.
A memory surfaced of some late-night, true crime documentary that she’d watched. ‘Once the ransom’s paid, there’s no leverage left,’ a detective had said. ‘Most hostages don’t make it. Time is of the essence.’
Those lines echoed in her head, louder even than the blood rushing in her ears.
What if one of the kidnappers made a mistake and used their real name or accidentally showed their face? If that happened, then they wouldn’t risk letting her go.
They already had a million. What if they got the second half and then asked for more? Or, worse, what if Danny missed the drop because he had a flat tyre or an accident? Anything could go wrong. Then what?
Guilt wrapped tightly around her chest like a vice. If only she’d insisted that Jo got in her car on the day she went missing. If only they knew where it had happened. There could be CCTV cameras there. Someone might have seen a number plate.
Gil pressed her palms into her eyes, trying to stop her mind from spinning.
Then, it struck her. It was so simple, so obvious: why hadn’t she thought of it before? She’d retrace Jo’s walk home tonight. Every step. Every corner. Perhaps she’d see something, anything, that could help.
She had to try.
Because if the current plan went wrong, Jo wouldn’t be coming home.
***
Nicola
Nicola couldn’t focus. She sat on the floor playing a memory game with Joel, but her mind kept drifting.
Joanna Neal wasn’t someone who ignored calls. Her phone was always fully charged. Always on. She checked in with Joel constantly unless she was in surgery, and even then, she’d call the moment she could.
Daniel said her phone had died. But surely Jo would’ve charged it at the airport? She always called to say goodbye before a trip.
Something didn’t sit right.
Joel huffed in frustration. ‘Sorry, sweetheart,’ Nicola said, turning over a card.
No. Joanna wouldn’t just leave, not without calling and definitely not without saying goodbye to Joel.
She stood. ‘Snack time.’
Once Joel was settled at the table, happily spooning yoghurt, Nicola dialled Joanna’s mobile. It went straight to voicemail.
She snapped a photo of Joel mid-snack and sent it via WhatsApp. Then, she waited desperately for the second tick to show it was on Joanna’s phone. But it never came.
Nicola checked again after clearing the dishes. There was still one tick.
Something wasn’t right. But Nicola had no idea what to do about it.