M. Arlidge - Eeny Meeny

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The international bestseller that "grabs the reader by the throat" (Crime Time).
First in the new series featuring Detective Inspector Helen Grace.
Two people are abducted, imprisoned, and left with a gun. As hunger and thirst set in, only one walks away alive.
It's a game more twisted than any Detective Inspector Helen Grace has ever seen. If she hadn't spoken with the shattered survivors herself, she almost wouldn't believe them.
Helen is familiar with the dark sides of human nature, including her own, but this case-with its seemingly random victims-has her baffled. But as more people go missing, nothing will be more terrifying than when it all starts making sense…

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Which is when there was a sharp knock on the door. Before he had a chance to respond, Helen entered – flanked by two officers from Anti-Corruption.

87

Stephanie Bines was nowhere to be found. Itinerant workers are particularly hard to locate, especially those who work in bars. It’s a promiscuous profession in which the promise of a few bucks more prompts people to jump ship all the time. Stephanie Bines had worked in most of the bars in Southampton – she was attractive and funny, but also flighty and temperamental – and no one had seen her for a while.

After the court case, she’d considered going back home, but she’d run away from Australia for a reason and the idea of returning there with her tail between her legs – still broke and unattached – didn’t appeal. So she hopped from Southampton to Portsmouth and did what she did before – work, drink, screw and sleep. She was a piece of driftwood washed up on the south coast.

There was no response at her last known address. Sanderson had paid a visit but it was a come-and-go place where you paid by the week and Stephanie hadn’t been seen there for ages. The owner, suspicious of the police and uncertain who or what might be discovered in his cheap rooms, was not keen to help – demanding a warrant before he’d open any doors. The team immediately applied for one, but it would take time. So they resumed their search in the city centre clubs and bars, the local hospitals, cab firms and more. But still there was no trace.

She had vanished.

88

Whittaker eyeballed Helen. Neither was speaking – Anti-Corruption were formally laying out the accusations – but Helen felt she was being interrogated nevertheless. Whittaker’s glare bore into her skull as if he was trying to divine her thoughts.

‘I must say I’m surprised at you, Helen. I thought you had more sense than this.’

DS Lethbridge from Anti-Corruption came to an abrupt halt, surprised by the sudden interruption.

‘I thought we’d cleared this matter up,’ Whittaker continued, ‘and now I find it landing on my doorstep. I don’t have to remind you that there is an active investigation going on that should have your full attention.’

Helen refused to drop her gaze, refused to be intimidated. Lethbridge started up again but Whittaker just talked over him.

‘I can only assume that this is about ambition. Perhaps you felt that you weren’t moving up the ladder quick enough. Perhaps me promoting you to be the youngest female DI this nick’s ever had wasn’t sufficient reward. But let me tell you something – maliciously stabbing senior officers in the back is not the way to get ahead. As you’re about to discover.’

He never took his eyes off her. Helen broke the stare first – a pang of conscience, guilt – though why she should be feeling guilty was beyond her. This was classic Whittaker – reminding her of what she owed him, whilst delivering a veiled threat. He was adept at not crossing the line, whilst nevertheless intimidating and neutralizing anyone who threatened his position. It was true that Whittaker had ‘spotted’ her, plucked her out as a promising DC and helped her slide up the promotion chain all the way to Inspector. And then she had turned on him. But what he had done was so bad – not just his relationship with Mickery and his leaking of crucial information, but his scapegoating of Mark and Simon Ashworth – that in reality she should feel nothing but contempt.

Helen was glad when the interview concluded after only twenty minutes. They would have to reconvene with Whittaker’s police representative and lawyer and Helen would be excluded from the process from now on. Whittaker predictably had said little, denying all the charges. Would he crack?

There was simply too much smoke for there not to be a fire. Charlie seemed innocent. Hand on heart, Mark had put up a convincing case too. And Simon Ashworth had been so compelling in his account. It all pointed to Whittaker’s guilt. But Helen knew that senior officers were very seldom hung out to dry publicly. And it was even less likely in this case, as the investigation that he had compromised was so sensational. These corruption cases tended to drag on behind very closed doors for months, even years. And what was the betting that at the end of it he would be pensioned off without any real censure or punishment. Helen hated the realpolitik of it all.

The process would take time to play out but two things were immediately apparent. First, that Helen would take over Whittaker’s role in an acting capacity. And second that she wanted Mark back on the team.

Helen took a deep breath and rang his bell. This wasn’t going to be easy, but there was no time for hesitation. Charlie was still chasing down Louise Tanner, there was no sign of Stephanie Bines and they were no closer to ending this nightmare. She needed all her best people round her.

‘Come on, come on,’ Helen muttered, as she listened for signs of life. A minute ticked by. Then another. She was about to cut her losses and go, when she heard someone fumbling with the lock. She turned, just as the door swung open to reveal Mark. Or what was left of him at least.

He was a sorry sight. Unshaven, red-eyed and unsteady on his feet. A daytime drinker with nothing – or no one – to make him stop. He was wearing a tracksuit, but exercise was not on the cards. He had shut down. Helen felt a pang of regret. She had offered to save Mark, then driven him to the bottle once more. He stared at her with a mixture of surprise and contempt, so Helen jumped straight in:

‘Mark, we’ve been through too much together for me to beat around the bush or try and dress things up, so I’m just going to say it straight. I know that you are innocent of everything I threw at you. I know I fucked up big time. And I want you back on the team straight away. If you don’t have the energy or can’t face being in the same room as me, I would understand, but I want to find a way to get you back in – you’re too talented a copper to be thrown on the scrapheap. I was wrong. But I’ve nailed the right guy now and I want to make amends.’

A long silence. Mark looked stunned. Then:

‘Who?’

‘Whittaker.’

Mark whistled, then laughed. He was incredulous.

‘We don’t know yet if it was a financial relationship with Mickery or a romantic one, but I’m totally convinced it was him. He lied about his alibi, pressured other officers to lie… it’s a big mess.’

‘So who’s taking over?’

‘I am.’

‘Well, congratulations.’

He had been polite until now, but the first hints of sarcasm were creeping in.

‘I know I upset you, Mark. I know I betrayed our… friendship. I didn’t want to hurt you, but I did it all for the right reasons. I just got it wrong. Badly, badly wrong.’

She drew breath then carried straight on.

‘But things have developed and I need you back. I know now that the killer is motivated by a personal hatred of me. We’re getting closer, Mark, but I need your help to get me over the line.’

She swiftly explained the situation – the victims, the commendations. Mark took it all in, passively at first but then slowly he ventured questions, becoming more and more engaged in the narrative. The old instincts were awakening, Helen thought to herself.

‘Have you told the rest of the team? That I’m innocent,’ Mark fired back, wresting the initiative from Helen.

‘Charlie knows, I’ll tell the others later today.’

‘That’s the very minimum that has to happen before I will even think about what you’ve said today.’

‘Of course.’

‘And I want you to apologize. I know you’re not very good at tha-’

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