Fifty Fifty (Detective Harriet Blue #2)(41)

‘You talk to the Simpson girl?’

‘Yes.’

‘Convinced?’

Whitt struggled. ‘She maintains everything from her last statement. The white van. The screaming. Caitlyn standing there as she ran past.’

‘We’ll soon find out,’ Tox said.

Whitt took a deep breath and looked around at the car park. They walked to the door to the fire stairs. Was this where Caitlyn McBeal had taken her last breaths of free air?

And if it was, would she ever take any again?





Chapter 54


‘THIS IS WHERE both girls allegedly entered,’ Whitt said, walking through the fire-escape door. He glanced down the stairwell. ‘I suppose the abductor might have seen Linny coming up the stairs. Decided she was his type. Thought he’d stand here, wait for her to come through.’ He walked back through the door and leaned against the wall, made like he was ready to pounce. ‘Linny comes through. He grabs her, drags her that way, over to where that white van is sitting.’

Whitt pointed to a car space fifty metres away where a white van sat with the side door open. He paused, puzzled at the sight of it sitting there, the very same make and model of vehicle the witness had described in her interviews. Tox had his hands in his pockets. He looked nonchalantly towards the van.

‘So what we want to know is,’ Tox said, ‘how likely is Linny’s story? Why did no one hear her screams and then Caitlyn being abducted? Would the attacker have been able to drag Caitlyn fifty metres to the van? Where and how might he have left traces of the crime if he did?’

Whitt was still puzzled by the van. He looked at Tox. ‘That’s the same kind of van Linny reported seeing at the abduction,’ Whitt said.

‘Uh-huh.’ Tox nodded. ‘It’s my van. I brought it here for the purposes of our experiment.’

‘What experiment?’

Tox didn’t answer. He was watching a woman walking towards them up the slope of the ramp, her enormous spike heels clopping like horseshoes on the asphalt. Whitt’s first thought was that university students sure dressed differently now to the way they did when he studied. As she got closer, however, Whitt began to notice bruises on her slender white legs, climbing all the way to the hem of the tiny miniskirt. The long blonde ponytail was clearly fake – clipped-in extensions. She put the phone she’d been texting on away in a small faux-fur handbag and smiled broadly at Tox.

‘Detective Barnes,’ she said, hardly glancing at Whitt. ‘It’s been a long time, honey.’

‘Sure has.’ Tox looked warm and friendly, Whitt thought. A sudden transformation of his usually dark being. Something was not right. ‘Whitt, this is Sandy. Sandy, Whitt.’

‘This is a bit of a weird place for a two-on-one,’ Sandy smirked uneasily, looking around the car park. ‘Are we getting out of here, or …?’

‘Oh no, we’ll play our game right here,’ Tox said. He checked his watch. There was a strange, tight pause as the man simply stood there, smiling at the girl’s face. Whitt opened his mouth to ask what was going on, but before he could Tox lunged at the girl, grabbing her by both arms, yanking her towards him.

‘You’re coming with me, girly!’ Tox snarled.

‘ Whoa!’ Whitt stumbled backwards. ‘Whoa! Whoa!’

‘What are you doing?’ Sandy screamed. ‘What are you doing! Help! Help!’

The girl in Tox’s arms suddenly sprang to life, bucking and twisting in his grip. The two of them fell into the side of a parked car.

Whitt launched himself forwards, trying to wrestle the girl from Tox’s grip as he dragged her towards the van. Her screaming was so loud up close that his eardrums pulsed.

‘Please! Stop! Help me!’

‘Stop, Tox! Let her go!’

Tox threw his weight sideways, knocking Whitt into another car, sending his glasses skidding across the asphalt. Sandy twisted in Tox’s arms, bashed at his head with her forearms. He stopped and adjusted his grip, hugged her to him like a child and loped in the direction of the van with her howling against his chest.

‘In you go!’ he laughed triumphantly, placing Sandy in the cabin of the van and slamming the door. Sandy was screaming, beating on the door with her fists. Whitt limped towards Tox, his lower back aching from slamming into the side mirror of a nearby Toyota.

‘What the hell is wrong with you? Let her out of there!’

‘Fifty seconds,’ Tox said, glancing at his watch. He pushed the door of the van open and Sandy got out. She slapped Tox hard across the side of the head.

‘You arsehole!’ she panted. ‘What the fuck is wrong with you?’

‘It was just a game, sweetheart.’ Tox reached out and took her shoulders in his big, calloused hands, smoothed her arms. ‘That’s all. No need to get your pretty feathers all ruffled.’

‘ You’re crazy,’ Sandy huffed and tried to assess the damage the struggle had done to her artificial hair. ‘You’ve always been a crazy fuck.’ She slapped him again, hard, across the face.

Tox peeled a couple of hundreds off of a roll he produced from his pocket. Sandy snatched the bills and tucked them into her bra, held her hand out for more. Tox sighed and peeled again. Sandy frowned at Whitt.

‘Great load of help you were,’ she snapped, jutting her chin at Whitt. ‘Was this your idea? You some kinda freak who likes to watch abductions?’