The Girl In The Ice (Detective Erika Foster, #1)(76)

‘No, I’ve given up,’ said Erika. She chose a single ticket to Manchester Piccadilly Station, and fed in her credit card.

‘Good for you, love,’ said the ticket officer, closing the machine. He grinned and walked back off to the station. Erika’s ticket shot out into the little steel drawer.

There were a smattering of people on the platform. She pulled out her phone and dialled Edward’s number. He answered after a few rings. His voice lit up when he realised who it was. Erika explained that she was coming up to see him, adding, ‘I hope it’s not too short notice?’

‘No, not at all, love. I just need to make up the bed in the spare room,’ he said, sounding happy. ‘Give us a bell when you’re close and I’ll pop the kettle on.’

‘It’ll just be a couple of days . . .’

‘You stay as long or a short as you want.’

Erika ended the call as the train rounded the track up ahead. She had drained the last of her coffee and was looking for a bin, when her phone rang.

‘Boss, it’s me,’ said Moss, breathlessly. ‘Marco Frost has just been released.’

The train passed under the footbridge and carriages blurred past.

‘Released? Why?’ asked Erika.

‘The solicitor has been working on Marco’s alibi. He found some CCTV from a newsagent’s shop in Micheldever.’

The train was now slowing; Erika could now make out commuters inside the carriages.

‘Where’s Micheldever?’ she asked, feeling excitement prickling in her stomach.

‘An hour south from London Bridge Station. Marco stated, in his second alibi, that that’s where he was going on the night of the eighth of January. As you know, there was insufficient evidence to back that up. Micheldever is a tiny station with no CCTV . . . That’s been the story of this case, no CCTV,’ said Moss.

The train came to a stop. People on the platform rushed at the train.

‘The CCTV from the newsagent shows Marco Frost stopping outside to light a cigarette at 8.50pm. The newsagent’s is a thirty-five minute walk from the train station, so he did arrive off the 8.10pm train from London Bridge.’

The train doors opened with a beep, and passengers surged around Erika.

Moss continued, ‘So Marco Frost can now be placed an hour and thirty-five minutes from London around the time Andrea vanished. It’s highly unlikely he could have made it back to the station for the last train into London that evening. He’s in the clear.’

The passengers had now boarded the train. The guard stood on the edge of the platform, waiting as the seconds on the electronic clock ticked by to the departure time.

‘Of course, now Marsh is shitting a brick. The CPS had been crowing to the press how we’ve caught Andrea’s killer, and now a duty solicitor who phoned up a newsagent and asked for a copy of their CCTV video has blown all the case apart . . . You still there, boss?’

‘Yes, I am,’ said Erika.

The guard blew his whistle. ‘Get back if you’re not boarding the train!’ he shouted, signalling for Erika to get behind the yellow line. She looked at the inside of the carriage. There was a seat just by the door, and warm air flowed out. The doors lit up and gave the warning beep.

‘I thought you’d be really pleased, boss?’ asked Moss.

‘I am, this means . . .’

‘I wanted to give you the heads up, because I think Marsh is going to call you.’

The train doors were about to close, when a man in a leather jacket came thundering down the stairs from the footbridge. He reached the platform and dived onto the train just as the doors closed on him. With a beeping sound, the doors opened again to free him.

There was a ping on Erika’s phone. She saw that she had Marsh on her call waiting.

‘He’s calling me now.’

‘Okay, I’ll get off the line,’ said Moss. ‘Let me know what’s happening.’

The doors were now closing. This was her last chance to get on the train and go up north. The doors closed. Erika answered her phone.

‘DCI Foster. How are you?’ asked Marsh, sounding insincere and panicky.

‘I now know how a chicken feels seconds before death,’ she quipped.

The train clicked and whirred and pulled away from the platform.

‘Sorry I didn’t get in contact, it’s been—’

‘Yes, I’ve heard you had to release Marco Frost.’

‘Would you be willing to come into the station? We need to talk,’ he said.

Erika paused and watched the train move into the distance, vanishing round a bend. ‘I can be there in fifteen minutes, sir,’ she said. She picked up her case, looked at the real world, which she had briefly felt she might join, and then hurried towards the station exit.





52





There was a fight going on in the reception area when Erika entered Lewisham Row Station. Two teenage boys hit the concrete floor with a hollow thud, and began to roll around, goaded on by assorted siblings and their equally young mothers. The larger boy clambered on top of the smaller and started to punch his face, the teeth of the smaller boy blurring pink with blood. Woolf waded into the fray, supported by a couple of uniformed officers. Erika ducked through the fighting and was buzzed in through the inside door by Moss.