The Next Girl(Detective Gina Harte #1)(71)

‘Did you just call me Paula? I think that’s the first time you’ve ever used my first name,’ she said with a smile.

‘Indeed I did. Now quick, we need to apply for a search warrant on Wall’s property. I’ll call our lovely magistrate Daniel Berwick and let him know we’re on our way to get it signed.’

‘On it now, guv.’ Wyre turned back to her computer and began typing away.

Jacob took the statement from Gina, held it to his lips and kissed it. ‘Thank you, Mr Cooper.’ His phone rang and he smiled as he listened to the other person on the line. ‘Add a chipped tooth to the description.’

Briggs stood. ‘Nail the bastard and keep me updated on everything.’





Forty-Nine





As they charged through Wall’s door, led by the enforcer, Gina called out, ‘Jeff Wall, this is DI Harte and DS Driscoll. We have a warrant for your arrest and a warrant to search the property.’ She crept a few steps closer to one of the closed doors. She wriggled in her stab vest and realised it was a little bit tight. Her breath was ejected with force every time she exhaled. She felt for her truncheon and pepper spray, which were all accessible and in their rightful place. She flung the door open as officers flooded the other rooms in unison. She pulled out her torch as she entered the dark kitchen-lounge. ‘Bloody hell, it stinks in here,’ she said as she covered her nose.

Jacob brushed past her. ‘Fortunately, it only smells of old bin,’ he replied. The curtains were drawn on the old split-level cottage. Wall lived on the ground floor.

‘There’s no one here,’ one of the officers shouted.

‘Where the hell is he?’ Gina whispered. She stepped around the room, flashing her torch into every corner and crevice. The seventies’ brown and orange wallpaper had peeled in strips off the walls, revealing the damp plaster beneath. The old tiled fireplace was devoid of any waste and the room was freezing. Hardly any furniture occupied the space in the small room. A floral two-seater sofa was pushed against the back wall. An old teak coffee table sat in front of it. She flashed her torch a little closer to the table. There was a single coffee cup containing a mass of mould that resembled mushrooms. An old box-style television filled the corner of the room by the window. Gina walked over to the fireplace and got a closer view of a photo in a frame. ‘He has a photo of Deborah. Was this taken outside the school?’

Jacob walked over to her and stared at the photo. ‘That’s definitely the school her kids attended.’

The photo had been taken from a distance. Deborah had been standing there, unaware that she was being watched. Gina felt a wash of nausea spreading through her body. Fanning her face, she took a step back.

‘Guv?’ Jacob said.

‘What?’

‘You look a bit peaky, are you alright? I know it whiffs in here but we’ve smelled worse.’

Gina shook her head. ‘I’m okay, it’s just the remnants of this virus.’ She knew it was a lie. It was the smell of rot and the thought that Deborah was somewhere out there, still being held by this monster. The hairs on her neck prickled as she thought of Terry. She imagined his filthy hands all over her naked body as she wept. She hoped that Wall’s filthy hands weren’t all over Deborah while they were here.

‘Tell me about it. When I awoke in the night, I had to spend several minutes coughing my guts up.’

‘Thank you, Jacob,’ she said, taking a deep breath. She turned back to the photo. That photo confirmed everything.

Wyre entered and headed straight to Gina. ‘Is that who I think it is?’

‘Certainly is. Now we need to figure out where he’s keeping her and where he is now. We need to get hold of him quick. We don’t even know if Deborah’s okay after everything she’s been through. I don’t know what I’ll tell her family if the outcome isn’t good.’ Gina adjusted her stab vest and turned away from Wyre.

‘We’ve obtained his current vehicle registration from the DVLA and we have officers on the lookout for his car. We’ll catch him,’ Wyre replied.

‘I know we will,’ said Gina. ‘I just hope it’s not too late for Deborah.’

Jacob had stepped out to check on the rest of the flat, and now he popped his head back into the musty living room. ‘They’re bagging and tagging a few items in his bedroom but he seems to be a man of very few possessions. There really isn’t much, apart from a shoebox containing a pile of old photos. Looks like childhood portraits of him with his parents. He has no computer, no other electronic devices, hardly any clothes. It’s as if he’s just using this place as a cover and for the storage of random junk. We’ve checked the bin and there’s only takeaway leftovers in there. What you can smell is half a mouldy portion of fish and chips and what looks like a curry. He doesn’t have any bills or identification on the premises.’

‘Sounds about right. Looks like it is just a cover. Why he’s left a photo here is beyond me. Maybe he can’t bear to be anywhere without Deborah. He’s one dangerously devoted arse wipe,’ Gina replied as she walked away from the fireplace. ‘He’d been watching her for months at the school, after work, at the pub, even at home. He finally saw his opportunity on that cold winter night. He’d been prepared for a long time. He must have a van. I know there isn’t one registered to him, but... The night he left the pub, he must’ve used one then, leaving his car in view of the CCTV. He’d probably done that on many occasions, and his colleagues never noticed. He isn’t the life and soul of anything. He quietly comes and goes, tending to paperwork and his barrels in the cellar. He’s purposely invisible. The van had always been ready, as was his method of getting her into it, leaving only her shoe behind. He’d waited and waited for her to leave that night. Driving up and down, he waited for her colleagues to leave and, finally, he spotted Deborah. His patience had been rewarded. Deborah wasn’t the type of person who was often alone in the dark, but that night she was, and he was ready.’