Cold as Ice (Willis/Carter #2)(61)

Tracy began speaking. She glanced at the paper in her hand. It was shaking. Hawk squealed with delight. From the corner of the room a woman moved. Hawk’s eyes flicked her way but he didn’t turn to look at her; he had no need – she wasn’t going anywhere.

‘I want to appeal to whoever is holding my daughter,’ Tracy said, her voice quivering. ‘I want to tell him he has the power to release her. He has the power to let my daughter come home now before any more harm is done. Please.’ Tracy looked up into the camera. ‘Please. Don’t kill my daughter, she is a lovely mum – she cares deeply for her little boy Jackson who has special needs and he misses his mum terribly.’ Tracy turned away as she was in danger of crumbling. The camera flashes popped all over the room as they looked for that one perfect shot.

Hawk stood and the chair fell backwards as he stamped his foot and raged at the screen.

‘Where’s your make-up? You’re not playing fair. Why don’t you show us who you really are? You’ve spoilt it now, Tracy. You’ve lied to me.’ Hawk looked at Bowie and Carter and Vincent and he muttered: ‘You think I’m stupid? You think I’m so arrogant as to be that easily manipulated? I know what’s in your minds. You’re trying to make me change my plan, to trip me up. I see through your schemes and I’ll raise the stakes and I’ll play a hand that you won’t see coming. It’s my game and my rules and I will prepare for the arrival of another player.’

Hawk switched off the TV and pressed the button on the music system. He closed his eyes as he swayed to the music. His heart lifted with the violins as they plucked at his emotions. His heart was full to bursting as his head moved, swam on a magic carpet of sensations – then stopped.

He slowly opened his eyes and turned to the sound that had disturbed him – ‘Shut the fuck up.’

The woman was moaning in pain from the corner of the room.

He felt for the remote control in his pocket and switched up the volume until he could no longer hear her.

He waltzed around the room, his feet shushing on the bare floorboards. Then he moved towards her and picked her up and put her over his shoulder as his chest rose and fell. She moaned in pain as he carried her out of the room and down the corridor, down the stairs and into another room. He switched on the light and laid her on the floor as he moved like a ballet dancer, pointing his toes, flexing his feet he danced around her. He stood above her, his eyes gleaming, his breath quick. He tilted his head this way and that as he looked her over. Her body was peppered with maggot-infested holes.

‘Ah, my sweet Jenny Smith . . . you and I have been on the longest journey. But now I feel your road is coming to an end. She did not answer; she stared back at him with the massive eyes of the emaciated. Her breathing was shallow, her bones so exposed that he could see every rib. She had on a red metallic bikini that was baggy and soiled. He took off his combat-style trousers and knelt beside her and undid the ties of the bikini from around her neck. He rolled her to her side to undo the string around her back. She groaned as he moved her.

‘Be patient, Jenny. Be patient.’ He slid the bikini bottoms down over her legs. ‘You must hand this over to someone else now. We’ll play our game one last time, Jenny, and I’ll let you go.’

For a second her eyes filled with panic and then they filled with calm. She could no longer talk. She had not spoken for two years. Her eyes followed his movements as he pulled a long, silky woman’s scarf from his trouser pocket.

‘This was my mother’s, as you know.’ He threaded it beneath her neck and her eyes stayed on his. He twisted the excess around his knuckles and twisted the scarf tighter. She struggled the way she always did as she fought to stay alive, but she didn’t struggle for long and he kept the knot tight. This time he would take her to the end. When she was dead he hung her on a hook from the ceiling in the centre of the room.

After the conference Bowie went back to his office and called Carter and Willis in to see him.

‘Please have a seat, both of you. If nothing happens from the press conference we have to be ready to try something new. We need someone to go undercover. We need to set someone up within the geographical triangle of the crimes and mirror the women’s lives as closely as we can.’ Carter was nodding his agreement. ‘Detective Inspector Carter and I have discussed this in private, Detective Willis, and we both agree – we want it to be you.’ Bowie looked at Ebony to gauge her reaction.

‘How would you feel about it?’

Ebony stared back at Bowie whilst she took a minute. Her face betrayed nothing.

‘You don’t have to agree to it; it’s only an idea, but we need someone quickly,’ said Carter. ‘I think you can do it Detective.’ He smiled at her.

‘You’ve done a test purchase before?’ asked Bowie.

‘Yes, Sir, I’ve done TP a few times, test purchasing stolen goods once from a shop in Fulham and I’ve done it twice buying drugs in Central London.’

‘I’ve looked at the reports from those assignments. It says in them that you handled it very well.’

‘Thank you, Sir. Do you think it should be someone from another force, Sir?’

‘It should, in theory – if it was an organized crime syndicate we were watching I’d say definitely but this is one man and we need to catch him fast.’