Chapter Thirty-Three
Josie
Two days have passed since the drop-off, and still, no word from the kidnappers. I call Gil. She tells me that Daniel Neal hasn’t heard from them.
‘I can’t keep lying to everyone,’ she sobs. ‘Where is she? What have they done to her? I thought we’d have her back by now. Danny’s never going to speak to me again. He said no police. I thought you were going to help us.’
I wish I had something – an answer, a clue, even a hunch. We traced every white van in the city, but none matched the plate. Without Daniel’s cooperation, we’re hitting one brick wall after another.
Dario sips his coffee as he scrolls through CCTV footage from the day of the drop.
‘He was heading for the M40, but turned back too soon. He couldn’t have reached Oxford services because nothing shows on their cameras, and the timing doesn’t work.
He must’ve taken a detour. Somewhere along the way, he made the drop, maybe a phone box, bin, who knows? ’
‘There might be security cameras,’ I say, latching onto the thought.
Dario jumps to his feet. ‘Let’s check it out.’
‘We need to tell Burrow first,’ I remind him. ‘We can’t go rogue.’
I knock on DI Burrow’s door. ‘We’re following a lead. Dario thinks we might be able to trace part of Neal’s route.’
‘Go for it,’ he says. ‘God knows we need something.’
Dario grabs his coat. ‘Lunch on me, a country pub, somewhere cosy.’
I love the countryside. It’s my escape from city chaos, the thatched cottages, honey-stone walls and smoke curling from chimneys. But there's one thing it lacks: security cameras.
The only other place we’d passed that could have CCTV was Waterperry Gardens, so Dario suggested we have a look there.
***
We reach Waterperry Gardens, hoping for a miracle. No luck, the car park isn’t monitored.
‘I’m afraid we don’t have CCTV out there,’ the shop assistant tells us.
‘Nothing,’ I sigh. ‘Another dead end.’
Dario suggests we get some food. We start walking back to the car, and I freeze. Three spaces over, there’s a white van.
Dario sees it too. ‘I’ll run the plate,’ he says, reaching for the radio.
‘You don’t need to,’ I reply. ‘It’s Geoff’s.’
He frowns. ‘Geoff has a van?’
‘He keeps it in the garage. He’s a painter and decorator, remember? His reg came up in our initial search.’
A sick feeling hits me. I’ve always assumed he has been cheating…
‘Where were you the day of the kidnapping?’ Dario asks gently.
‘I was on the day shift with you, remember?’ I say. ‘But Geoff… He said he was working on a house in Burford. Look, it’s not Geoff. He wouldn’t have the guts to kidnap someone.’
‘We can’t ignore it,’ Dario says. ‘Neal came this way to make the drop, and Geoff’s van just happens to be here?’
We drive away in silence. Dario stops at a picturesque pub and orders me an elderflower pressé, and food. ‘Sorry I can’t get you anything stronger,’ he says. ‘But this steak sandwich will sort you out. Trust me.’
Tears spring to my eyes. He reaches across the table and gently squeezes my hand. I rummage in my bag for a tissue, but for once, I don’t have any. ‘Sod it,’ I mutter.
Dario slides one across the table.
‘It’s not Geoff,’ I say. ‘It can’t be.’
The sandwich is excellent, but it does nothing to settle the dread growing in my gut. What if…?
‘You said he’s been acting off,’ Dario presses. ‘We could search the garage. He might have a fake plate, a disguise, or, hopefully, nothing.’
‘Let’s do it now,’ I say, rising.
‘Agreed,’ he says, and nods, brushing crumbs from his hands.
***
Geoff’s not home when we arrive. I haul the garage door open, and we start sifting through the clutter. I pray that we don’t find anything.
Thankfully, we don’t.
‘What about his car?’ Dario asks.
My stomach drops. I check the boot. It’s empty.
‘The boot’s clear.’
With a solid thud, Dario shuts the door. Then he turns to me, looking sheepish. ‘Sorry, Josie, but I found this.’
He holds out a thong. My heart lurches. Tears blur my vision.
‘At least he’s no kidnapper,’ I say, forcing a smile.
‘But we have to test it for Joanna’s DNA,’ Dario says gently. ‘And maybe, tonight, you can search the van when he gets back.’
I sigh. ‘Jesus, Dario.’
‘I’m sorry,’ he murmurs, lightly touching my arm.
Dario’s reassurances fall flat. The moment that thong was sealed into an evidence bag, I felt the ground shift. Geoff and I weren’t rich, but we weren’t desperate either. Why would he kidnap someone? And even if he had, where would he keep her?
***
Back at the station, I try to swallow the nausea as Dario and Roy pore over the latest CCTV. Then Dario looks at me, smiling, giving me a flicker of hope, and I crumble.
‘Nothing on the footage,’ he says softly. ‘We had to double-check. I'm sorry.’
Geoff’s secret, it turns out, was just an affair. Not a kidnapping.
‘We’re just waiting for Forensics to confirm,’ Burrow says. ‘I’ve asked them to rush it.’
Time drags.
Eventually, the call comes. No trace of Joanna Neal’s DNA on the thong.
So that’s it. He’s been screwing around behind my back, while I’ve been going through hell, thinking he murdered someone.