Cold as Ice (Willis/Carter #2)(29)
Tracy was stunned into silence. She heard the front door slam. She couldn’t remember the last time Steve had thrown a wobbly like that; she had no idea what it was all about. She had to admit she hadn’t really wanted to discuss things with Steve because she knew he always reacted badly to stress. Tracy’s attention was back on the television – the tall, sickly-looking blond Detective Chief Inspector Bowie was appealing for the public’s help; they had to phone a number if anyone had any information about the dead woman in the canal. The photo of Emily Styles stayed on the screen.
Danielle was about to switch the news off and look for a film to watch when she froze as she looked at her friend’s face. Emily Styles with her distinctive auburn hair was smiling out of the screen just the way she was the last time Danielle had seen her at the festival. Danielle edged closer to the television and listened to the news report; everything else in the room disappeared as her brain tried to make sense of what she was looking at. She stared at Emily’s photo on the screen and saw the film of the officers searching the towpath in the background. Detective Chief Inspector Bowie was giving a press conference, recorded earlier in the day.
‘We need anyone with any information about Emily to come forward. We believe she was held somewhere for a number of weeks prior to being murdered and her body disposed of in the Regent’s Canal. We believe someone must have information about what happened to Emily. She was a gregarious young woman and a devoted mother to her daughter Sky. She disappeared on the fifth of June in between meeting her friend in Camden and collecting Sky from nursery. Someone somewhere knows what happened to her; if you have any information please ring the number on the screen.’
Danielle reached for her phone.
Chapter 14
Saturday arrived with a warmth to the sunshine.
Great day for it, thought Tracy as she checked her watch – it was nearly eleven o’clock. She had been inside the park for forty minutes. Where was Danielle? The kids’ park was busy with children dressed as Santa’s helpers and elves and fairies. Girls running around in princess dresses that still filled Tracy with a sense of longing. When she was their age she would have gone on and on at her mother to make her the best, the most beautiful dress in the world; and she would have got it too. Things were never the same after she got pregnant. Tracy walked across to a young woman with caramel-coloured dreadlocks, massive freckles over her face and a baby tied onto her back. She was running a stall selling non-alcoholic mulled wine and vegan mince pies.
‘Excuse me. I wonder if you know Danielle, Jackson’s mum?’
‘Of course.’ The woman was briefly distracted serving mince pies then she came over.
‘Yeah. I know Danielle well.’ She smiled. ‘She should be here by now. We were going to run this stall together. She should have been here two hours ago to help set up.’ The woman poured out a mulled wine for a customer. ‘Must have overslept. I’m surprised Jackson let it happen though, he was so keen. One of my friends is dressing up as Santa and we’ve all bought our kids a gift for him to hand out. I can’t believe Jackson’s not first in the queue. He was so excited about it yesterday.’
Tracy looked in the direction of Danielle’s estate.
‘Maybe I should go and see if she needs a hand.’
‘Do you know where she lives?’
‘Yes, I know. I’ve been there before. I’m going to go and knock on her door. If I miss her, tell her I’ll come back. My name’s Tracy.’
‘No problem.’ The woman went back to pouring mulled wine.
Tracy crossed over Seven Sisters Road and walked towards the high-rise blocks. A growing feeling of anxiety was making her walk quickly. What if the three men had come back? What if Danielle or Jackson was hurt? Tracy would never forgive herself. She knew she should have phoned the police. She sprinted up to Danielle’s landing and ran along to the pink door. She could barely breathe. When she knocked she heard a low growl in response. She knocked louder and waited. This time Scruffy answered with a bark. Tracy bent low and looked through the letterbox. Jackson was looking back at her.
‘Hello, Jackson, is Mummy there?’ Tracy looked past him. She was relieved to see him safe but was now feeling slightly cross with Danielle for letting everyone down. ‘Danielle? Danielle, they’re waiting for you at the park.’ She listened and heard nothing.
Scruffy came and tried to lick Tracy through the letterbox, knocking Jackson off his feet.
‘Scruffy, NO! Jackson? Jackson?’ Jackson came back into her vision; his little fingers clasping hers through the open letterbox. ‘Get Mummy for me.’
‘Nanny?’ There was dried blood over his hand. It was ice cold.
‘Are you hurt, Jackson?’ He started to cry.
‘It’s all right. There’s a good boy. Don’t cry. It’ll be all right. Nanny’s here, darling. Where’s Mummy, Jackson? Danielle? Is she in bed? Danielle?’ She looked past him and called through the letterbox. ‘Danielle, are you okay?’ Beyond Jackson she could see an upturned table in the hall, and she became aware of a long whine coming from the phone receiver, which was off the hook.’ Jackson, is Mummy in the flat somewhere? Is she sleeping?’ She called out again. ‘Go and get Mummy, Jackson.’ Jackson didn’t move. He held on to Tracy’s fingers. Tracy jammed the letterbox open as wide as it would go with one hand to stop it closing on Jackson’s fingers. With the other hand she scrabbled in her bag for her phone and managed to call Danielle’s number. She listened. She heard nothing. Oh God.