Tania Carver - The Creeper

Rani. He sighed again. Saw her smile.

It wouldn’t be long now. She would find another host and then he would hear her voice, the secret codes she gave him, the hidden clues so he could find her again.

Yes.

It wouldn’t be long now.

Phil watched Fenwick and Fiona Welch enter the flat then turned to his team. He noticed Rose Martin had stayed behind with him, her eyes still on Fenwick’s retreating back. Phil had noticed the way Fenwick’s hand had rested on the small of Fiona Welch’s back, guiding her over the threshold. He was sure Rose had noticed it too.

‘Right,’ he said and turned to Mickey. ‘We have a profiler. Happy?’

Mickey didn’t seem to know what to say.

‘Not what you expected?’

‘Erm, not really…’

‘Never mind,’ Phil said, a grim smile playing at the corners of his mouth. ‘They can’t all be good. Just down to us then. Right.’ He blinked, trying to ignore the headache. ‘Plan of action. What have we got. Any ideas?’

‘I think Ben’s right,’ said Rose. ‘I think the two might be related.’

‘I think so too,’ said Phil, ‘but it’ll still pay to keep an open mind. Having said that…’ He turned to the team individually. ‘Anni. This was your case. Keep on it. Work on the missing girl’s background and the murdered girls. They were friends, work mates, maybe there’s some overlap between the two here and Julie Miller, something in their backgrounds. ’

‘OK.’

‘Oh, and get Rose to brief you on her visit to the boyfriend last night. Make sure we’re all up to speed. Mickey.’

He turned to his DS. ‘The van that was seen on the quay yesterday morning. Keep on it. Eyewitnesses, ownership, number plate, anything. And see if there’s been similar sightings round here. That should help to tie these two together. And Adele Harrison. Check with John Farrell for black vans.’

Mickey nodded, scribbling in his notebook.

‘Rose. You’re still part of this team. Julie Miller was your case and she still is. I want you to go through her background again.’

‘I’ve done that-’

‘I know you have. But this time you’re looking for anything that sticks out, anything that can be flagged up. And anything that might strike a chord with Zoe Herriot and Suzanne Perry. Anything. OK?’

She nodded.

‘Good.’ He sighed, checked his watch. Breakfast time. But he wasn’t hungry. ‘I’ll get Adrian to do chain of evidence, follow the body for the PM. Twice in two days. He’s going to love me. In the meantime-’

‘Ah, you’re still here, good.’

Phil turned. Fenwick and Fiona Welch had emerged from the flat. Fenwick’s face was decidedly pale. Fiona Welch looked wide-eyed, detached.

Phil felt a small pang of guilt over his earlier treatment of her. ‘We were just off,’ said Phil.

‘Can you stay? Talk to Nick Lines?’

Phil said he could. Fenwick also asked for a gathering later, pooling what information they had received. Phil agreed.

‘Oh, Phil,’ Fenwick said, putting his arm round the DI’s shoulder, taking him over to one side, ‘a word.’

Phil waited.

‘Let’s chat. Fiona. She has insights which could be most valuable.’

‘Is she qualified, Ben?’

‘She teaches at university. What more could you want?’

‘But is she qualified?’

‘Yes.’

Phil didn’t think he sounded so sure. ‘Good. Because if she isn’t, if she’s just an assistant, nothing she says will be taken seriously.’

‘She… she…’

A wicked smile crossed Phil’s face. ‘Comes highly recommended too?’

Fenwick knew what Phil meant. He reddened. ‘She’s had papers published, is, is highly thought of.’

‘And she’s cheap.’

Fenwick’s lips curled in a snarl. His voice dropped. ‘Make all the jibes you want, Phil. You aren’t the one who has to balance the books, provide accountability.’

‘No. I’m just the one who has to get results.’

Phil turned, went to rejoin his team.

Fenwick hurried after him. Phil was about to address them but Fenwick, seeing this, jumped in first.

‘Right, then,’ Fenwick said. ‘All got jobs? Good. Go softly on. And remember, we’re a team. We work as a team.’ He gave a quick glance to Phil. ‘And there is no “I” in “team”.’

Anni walking away, caught Phil’s eye. ‘No,’ she said, muttering, ‘but there are five in “patronising fucking idiot”.’

Phil smiled. He didn’t know if Fenwick had heard.

Didn’t care.

‘So… who, who are you? What’s your name?’

Suzanne heard only the echo of her voice, then silence. The voice had stopped talking.

‘Hello? Are you still there?’

Nothing.

‘Hello?’

Nothing.

Panic began to rise within Suzanne once more. Stuck here on her own and now hearing voices. Or maybe it was her captor, taunting her. Pretending she wasn’t alone, trying to drive her mad. Trying to get her to…

What? Get her to do what?

She didn’t know. Nothing made any sense any more.

‘Please…’

Nothing.

She sighed. Heard her breath trail away. Her heart felt like a huge black stone inside her. A dead, dark lump. She felt cold and empty. She felt, suddenly and totally, devoid of hope.

This was it. The rest of her life. No rescue. No Hollywood ending.

She was going to die here.

She didn’t realise she was crying until she felt the tears run out of the corners of her eyes and into her ears. They tickled and she couldn’t reach to scratch them. That just made her cry all the more.

‘Hey… hey…’

Suzanne stopped herself crying. Was that the voice again? Talking to her?

‘Hey… hey you…’

‘Yes? Yes, I’m here…’ Suzanne was shouting, her voice verging on hysterical. ‘Hello, hello…’

No reply.

‘Hello… are you still there?’

A silence that stretched for a hundred years, then, ‘Yes I’m still here. Where would I be going?’

Suzanne could almost have started to cry again. From joy this time. Someone else there. She wasn’t alone. She didn’t have to suffer this – whatever it was – alone.

Questions began to tumble out of her. So fast she could barely articulate them. ‘Are you… are you here like me? Held here… Are you… what’s going on? Who are you?’

‘It’s best not to talk. They don’t like it when we talk.’

‘We? There’s more than you and me here?’

A silence. A sigh. ‘Not any more.’

‘What happened?’

‘Don’t know. She went, you came.’

‘Why? What’s going on? Why am I here?’

Another silence. ‘I cried at first. Just like you. And all the questions. But you get used to it.’

‘Get used to it? How long have you been here?’

‘Don’t know.’ Her voice faded a little. ‘Try not to think of it.’

Panic began to rise in Suzanne again. ‘But we’ll get out, won’t we? They have to let us out eventually.’

‘Do they?’ Another silence. Suzanne thought the person speaking had disappeared again. ‘That’s what the other one thought.’

‘The one who was here before me?’

‘Yeah.’

‘And what happened? Did they let her out?’

Suzanne heard a bitter laugh. Tinged with hysteria. ‘Oh yeah. She got out.’

‘Good…’

‘I heard the screams. I heard what they did to her…’ The voice broke, sobbed away into silence.

‘Hello?’ Suzanne felt like she was throwing her voice into a void.

‘I don’t want to talk any more.’

Silence returned.

Suzanne tried not to panic, not to cry.

For the first time in her life, Suzanne knew what it was like to feel totally, utterly, without hope.