Cold Revenge (Willis/Carter #6)(11)

Douglas went into the house and came back with a bag of weed, stopping to talk to Tony, a hitchhiker who he had picked up outside Birmingham, who had the vague idea of going to France but was easily sidetracked. Tony sat on a camping chair near the sliding door in the sitting room getting high, getting pissed. He was running away from a bad situation in Glasgow. He’d beaten up his girlfriend and she had brothers. Ash watched Nicola from his seat on the patio; she was getting hyper, he’d seen her that way many times. She partied hard at the weekends when Douglas came back. She hated being alone.

Douglas turned to Ash. ‘I need you to come with me tomorrow and help at one of the farms.’

‘What are we doing?’ Ash asked.

‘You remember what we did last time?’

Ash nodded. Douglas had a way of hiding the drugs on farm land, when he delivered his supplies. He got to know the farmers well, knew which fields were left untouched. They even asked him for advice about their crop planting and their animal grazing. Douglas was a phenomenal bullshitter, Ash knew that much about him. He also knew that accepting all Douglas and Nicola’s help with his mum and feeding them both, had to add up to some big favours. He didn’t mind, it was just a bit of fun, after all.

‘If someone can keep an eye on my mum, then no problem.’ Ash was thinking about Heather, but he knew she’d understand. He couldn’t even be sure she’d be able to come to the farm tomorrow.

Nicola joined them and handed them beers. ‘I’ll do that, I’ll be here anyway. I expect she wants a bath, doesn’t she?’

‘Yes, please, Nicola, I’d be so grateful.’

Douglas looked at Ash and smiled, patting him on the arm reassuringly.

Ash drank beer with the hitchhiker, Tony, and with the new girl, Cathy, who talked about herself non-stop and never asked one question about anyone else. By twelve they were all dancing to rave music and getting high. Ash watched as Nicola began dancing with Tony, who was wasted, but he couldn’t stop his legs from buckling. The next time he looked into the sitting room Nicola was gone and so was Tony. Ash said goodnight, knowing he had to go back to check on his mum.

At four in the morning, when the dancing had finished and everyone had gone back inside, Ash walked across to see if there was any beer left outside. He couldn’t sleep – he was thinking about his mum, about Heather, so many things to worry him. As he approached he heard the sound of Nicola and another woman laughing; it was Cathy or Millie, or both, he thought, and behind their laughter he could hear the grunt and slap and sounds of sex. He’d heard the sounds coming from the bungalow often, but there was another layer in there, it was the sound of someone in fear and pain; it stopped him in his tracks, and he crawled forwards along the patio to the corner of the sliding glass doors and the gap in the curtain.

Nicola was on her back, Tony on top of her and Douglas with his arm around Tony’s neck as he was thrusting into him from behind. Tony was fighting hard to get free. His body was jerking in pain, he was trying to scream but Douglas was forcing something into his mouth. Nicola was laughing. Millie was there and Cathy and maybe others that Ash couldn’t see. Then Ash saw Douglas grip Tony’s head tight in the crook of his arm and twist back and down. Ash heard a loud crack; Tony’s body began to shudder and he slumped forwards onto Nicola who squealed with laughter as she tried to push him off. Douglas stood and dragged Tony off her, pulling him by his arm towards the side of the room as Millie started to scream and Nicola carried on laughing.





Chapter 7


They parked up around the corner from the Queen’s Head, just off Kingsland High Street at the start of Shacklewell Lane, and walked across to the pub. It was just beginning to get busy as it approached nine. There were a few people sitting around the tables outside and Willis showed them the photo. ‘Do you recognise either of these women?’ She was met with shakes of the head. A street worker was watching them and walked away before Willis had time to stop her. Willis knew the prostitutes felt harassed by the police; Hackney hadn’t got the best record for dealing with the problem.

Inside the pub Willis showed the photo to the landlady who was serving behind the bar. ‘This photo was taken outside here wasn’t it?’ The landlady took the photo and nodded.

‘Do you recognise these women?’ asked Carter.

She nodded with a pissed-off expression, and then called over ‘Cover for me’ to one of the staff who was on a break, sitting at one of the tables. ‘We’ll talk at the back.’ She led them past the bar and down to some tables and chairs meant for dining.

‘This one,’ the woman pointed to the photo, ‘I know her; she has a pitch opposite the pub, just on the corner. She is off her head a lot of the time; she’s always getting in fights with other girls. The stuff we find outside our front door, you wouldn’t believe it; we’ve even caught her shooting up in our toilets more than once and having a crap between our bins round the side. Feckin’ disgusting.’

Willis took out her notebook. ‘What’s your name, please?’

‘Mary O’Sullivan. I manage this place, along with my husband. Although if you see the lazy bastard, remind him of that for me.’

‘Can you remember when you last saw either of these women?’ Carter smiled.

‘This one is the regular.’ She pointed at Millie’s picture, or Felicity’s as she was known on the streets. ‘I haven’t seen her, not for a couple of weeks. We were just talking about that, because there’s a new girl on her pitch now. We said she’d better be careful, Felicity is a fighter. Why, what’s happened to her?’