by Gino moving her novel slightly to make space for her gin martini beside the cheese straws. She studied the oil droplets on the surface of the cocktail. Biting into the first of the olives, Ed relished the savoury taste with its kick of alcohol. The mobile Don had given her was still in her room. It had taken her some weeks to come to a decision, but now she was sure. She took a mouthful of martini to celebrate and began to feel good. After a second congratulatory mouthful she felt even better.
‘Do you mind if I take one of your cheese straws? Gino seems to have forgotten mine.’
Lost in her thoughts Ed had barely noticed someone take the seat next to her at the bar. She swivelled towards the voice.
‘No. Please. Help yourself.’
Ed moved the bowl closer and took in her new companion at a glance. She was some ten to twelve years older than herself with short, impeccably cut steel-grey hair, little or no make-up and a well-tailored suit: no doubt a businesswoman in town for a few days and on her own for the evening.
The woman sipped her white wine before taking a cheese straw. She looked at Ed with a faint smile but didn’t speak. Ed broke the silence.
‘Are you staying at the hotel?’
‘No. What makes you say that?’
‘You mentioned the barman’s name …’
‘Ah … I frequently drop by after work.’
‘So you work in town?’ Stupid question, thought Ed.
‘I’m at The Chronicle.’
‘You’re a journalist?’ Alarm bells rang in Ed’s head. Journalists were not considered good companions for a police officer unless they were open to a little corruption, a career path which Ed despised.
On the barstool beside her, the woman inclined her head fractionally before replying. ‘The local paper, I’m the editor.’
Another silence accompanied by the same faint smile. This time Ed waited for her new companion to continue.
‘And you?’ She paused, assessing the situation. ‘An academic, visiting the University?’
Another pause. Ed remained silent.
‘No, if you were, your colleagues would have organized an evening out. You’re here for a day or two on a business trip … alone.’
‘Alone …?’
The woman nodded towards the novel on the bar beside Ed’s martini.
Observant. Ed smiled. ‘Half right, I’m treating myself this evening. I arrived this afternoon. I’m starting a new job on Monday.’
‘Congratulations.’ The woman extended her hand. ‘Verity Shaw.’
Ed held the proffered hand briefly while saying, ‘Ed Ogborne, I’m the new DI with Canterbury CID.’
There was a flash of surprised admiration on Verity’s face. The widening of her eyes and movement of her eyebrows were involuntary, rapid and brief, but Ed had been trained to detect such signs.
‘That must be worth a celebratory drink. Unfortunately this evening I’m meeting people for supper.’
Ed’s mobile vibrated but she ignored it. She remained silent, her quizzical expression inviting Verity to expand.
‘They’re not big drinkers. I dropped in here for a glass before joining them.’
Ed smiled. Here was a woman after her own heart.
‘Don’t tell me. I know the feeling.’
Verity glanced at her watch and made a sad face. ‘I’m sorry, I really have to go. Perhaps we could have that drink another time?’
‘I’d like that.’
‘Canterbury’s a small world. I’m sure we’ll meet again soon.’
Ed watched as Verity Shaw, editor of The Canterbury Chronicle, left the bar. It had been a chance meeting but, after her reception at the police station, she was pleased to have made a sympathetic contact outside the Force. She reminded herself that Verity was a journalist. She’d need to tread carefully but Ed was used to operating on her toes. It would add a little piquancy, keep her mind sharp.
In no hurry to finish her gin martini, Ed reached for another cheese straw. When she checked her phone there was an email from Chief Superintendent Addler, with no apology for missing their afternoon appointment, just a curt reminder they were to meet at 08.00 the following morning.
When he returned to Wincheap, he parked with a view of Debbie Shaxted’s house and waited for Lucy to leave. It wasn’t long before he heard voices through the open window of the van. It was Lucy saying goodnight to Debbie’s parents. He watched her walk straight down Victoria Road. In three minutes she would be at the narrow path which led into Hollowmede.
He drove the alternative route to the triangle of grass, parked in the last empty space and switched off the engine. It had taken 40 seconds for him to be in position. The pad and bottle were already in his coat pockets and the balaclava was on his head ready to pull down over his face. He was about to leave the van when a car appeared and tried to park. Ducking out of sight, he heard the car brake and drive away with a squeal of tyres. It parked at a distance and the driver hurried into a house on Hollowmede. Once out of the van, he half opened the side door, quickly crossed the grass to press his back into the tall hedge and waited for Lucy to arrive.
He reminded himself of the care he should take. Keeping Lucy in good health was crucial to his mission. Everything had gone according to plan with Teresa and Kimberley. There was no reason why things shouldn’t go just as well with Lucy. It was unfortunate his actions would cause distress but there was no other way. Eventually, she would be returned to her friends and family, returned to the life she knew. As yet he didn’t know when because he didn’t know how long he would have to hold her. In time that would become clear. Lucy would tell him.
Hidden by the hedge from the approaching Lucy, he steeled himself against an anxiety-provoking image of his mother. Lucy was a schoolgirl, not a woman. Hearing footsteps, he soaked the pad, barely noticing the sweet heavy smell. Lucy appeared two feet to his left. Stepping behind her, he pressed the pad over her nose and mouth while his free arm encircled her waist. She had no time to react before she was overwhelmed and easily pulled back into the shadow of the bushes. Her struggles weakened and he soon felt the dead weight of her unconscious body. Holding her upright he walked her to the van, slid open the door with his elbow and laid her between the seats on her side in case she vomited during the journey. A quick search revealed nothing but a handkerchief, a purse and a mobile telephone, which he immediately switched off. It took him less than 12 minutes to reach the lane through the woods.
His destination was at the end of a track, deep in the wood some 250 yards from the lane. He drove into the shed and sat in the van until his breathing returned to normal. Grabbing the girl from the street was the most dangerous phase of his mission. It was the only act which was out of his control. Place and time were dependent on her actions. He could reduce the risk but he couldn’t eliminate the possibility of discovery. Others may seek adrenalin highs but this wasn’t a game; he wasn’t in it for thrills. Now that he was safely hidden, the adrenalin was leaving his bloodstream. He could relax. Lucy was the third. This time he would be successful.
The main building had three rooms. The smallest, on the left, remained intact as his private room. The central space into which the outer door opened contained cooking equipment, a table with a lantern, two plastic chairs, and an old armchair turned to face the room on the right. He’d first prepared that room for Teresa, stripping the lath and plaster from the stud timbers of the dividing wall and putting chain-link fencing in its place. He’d replaced the door with a stout wooden frame covered with chain link and secured with