M. Arlidge - Little Boy Blue

‘I’ve been expecting you.’

We think we’re anonymous, but we never are. However we might try to protect ourselves, however smart we think we’ve been, it is impossible not to leave a footprint of some kind. Max Paine’s killer had left his or her mark in the corridor outside the flat and perhaps he or she had left a digital mark too.

The latter was increasingly the case in police work and DC McAndrew was no stranger to content warrants and cyberspace. Rolling her neck with a loud click, she returned her attention to the screens in front of her, making a mental note to go to her pilates class later. Too much data sifting played havoc with your posture and she could feel her back beginning to protest at her lack of activity.

Click, click, click. McAndrew and the team were working on the supposition that Paine’s attacker had deliberately cleared the flat of electronic devices – anything that could send or receive messages. Such a tactic might work in the short term but it was nothing more than a temporary fix. Paine hadn’t been very assiduous about backing up, but the apps, downloads and messages from his tablet and smartphone were synced to the Cloud. McAndrew sifted through them now, searching for the important clue that seemed to have eluded them so far.

She flicked quickly through the dating apps, before finding what she was really after. His e-diary. Scrolling straight to yesterday’s date, she took in his diary entries – a doctor’s appointment at 11 a.m., coffee with a friend at 12 p.m., a Tesco’s delivery at 3 p.m. After that came his work commitments – Paine was a nocturnal worker. A ‘Mike’ at 6.30 p.m., ‘Jeff’ at 8 p.m. and then the final appointment of the night at 9 p.m. None of the names gave them much to go on – no surnames and the first names probably false – but the last meeting of the day was even more oblique. Just a time and next to it a single initial:

‘S’.

‘If you want me, you’re going to have to come and get me.’

Samantha remained stock still, despite Charlie’s repeated demands for her to move. She lingered within the sanctuary of her strange doll cocoon and as neither of her hands was visible, Charlie had no intention of approaching her. Charlie had been stabbed, assaulted, even strangled in the line of duty and had no intention of risking another such attack.

‘That’s not going to happen and backup’s on its way,’ Charlie barked, crossing the room quickly to switch off the deafening music.

‘Isn’t that what they always say, just before something bad happens?’

‘Threatening a police officer is a criminal offence,’ Charlie growled back, irritated and angry.

‘I think I can wear it, sweetheart.’

Charlie stared at her. She was treating this like a game. Was she just enjoying the moment or was there something else going on here?

‘Well, that’s all you’re wearing, Samantha, so why don’t you find yourself a robe? You’ve no idea what the sight of a naked woman will do to some of my uniformed colleagues.’

‘Especially one like me,’ Parker responded, suddenly getting to her feet. The dolls fell away to reveal her full nakedness. She was utterly hairless and stick thin. With her toned body and full eye make-up, she could pass very convincingly for a woman, except for the bulky male genitalia between her legs. Charlie raised her eyes to hers and kept them there.

‘Could you grab something for me, honey?’ Samantha nodded towards a large wardrobe in the corner of the room. ‘There’s a jumpsuit two hangers from the left that should fit the bill.’

She ran her tongue over the last two words, amused by her little joke. The faint sound of sirens could be heard in the distance now, but this seemed to have no effect on Samantha. Her eyes were fixed on Charlie.

Charlie edged towards the cupboard, not once breaking eye contact. Samantha seemed calm, relaxed even – it was hard to see where the danger might come from. Was it possible there was somebody actually in the cupboard? The thought was crazy, but taking two quick steps towards it, Charlie threw the wardrobe doors open.

Nothing but a ragged collection of dresses and suits. Keeping one eye on Samantha, she reached for the second hanger from the left. A crimson jumpsuit hung on it and Charlie lifted it out. As she did so, the hook of the hanger snagged on the top of the hanging pole and Charlie had to turn briefly to free it. As she did so, she saw her go. Samantha sprang from her position in the middle of the room and sprinted through the open doorway. She had waited patiently, playing for time, but now she was making her bid for freedom.

Charlie dropped the hanger and ran after her. Samantha made it through the door and tore off down the dark corridor, hurdling the detritus in her path. Charlie was only seconds behind her, busting a gut to keep up.

Samantha raced to the bend in the corridor and took it hard, bouncing off the wall but keeping her balance. Charlie lunged at her, but in the darkness failed to see a discarded vodka bottle on the floor. Her left foot went from under her, the bottle skidding away and she hit the ground hard. Her momentum carried her forward and then she was scrabbling to her feet, ignoring the throbbing pain in her shoulder as she burst round the corner.

Now it was a straight race. The long, creaking corridor ran all the way to the front door – to freedom. Samantha had a head start and looked odds on to get there first, but Charlie knew she had to stop her. Redoubling her efforts she surged forward. Samantha was only twenty feet from freedom now.

Charlie had shut the front door behind her on entering and she was glad of it now. As Samantha approached the door, she was forced to slow down. And as she yanked the door open, Charlie saw her chance. Launching herself through the air, she cannoned into Samantha, slamming her naked body against the back of the door, before the pair of them fell to the floor in a heap. Dazed, Samantha tried to struggle to her feet, but the wind had been knocked out of her and within seconds, Charlie had her knee in the small of her back. Pulling her arms roughly behind her, she slapped on the cuffs and yanked Samantha to her feet.

They stared at each other for a moment, breathless and bruised, before Charlie eventually said:

‘I think we’ve had enough fun and games for now. Let’s make you decent, shall we?’

Samantha stared at her, shivering even as the sweat ran down her cheek, then suddenly spat hard in Charlie’s face.

‘What in God’s name were you thinking?’

Helen had sped to Ellesmere Heights as soon as she had got Sanderson’s call. Charlie had disobeyed a direct order by apprehending the suspect alone, so in spite of the presence of Sanderson, Lucas and numerous SOCOs, Helen didn’t hesitate in taking her to task.

‘You could have been killed or injured… You call, then you wait for backup, you always wait for backup.’

‘Like you do, you mean,’ Charlie retaliated, wiping the last remnants of Parker’s saliva from her face.

‘Excuse me?’ Helen countered, stunned by Charlie’s aggressive tone.

‘You’ve broken protocol on numerous occasions. And have you ever been pulled up on it?’

Charlie would not normally have answered back, but she had just brought in the prime suspect and was not in the mood to be lectured.

‘Only in life-or-death situations and besides it’s different for me. You have a family -’

‘So it’s one rule for you, one rule for everybody else.’

‘Why the hell are you doing this, Charlie?’ Helen replied, beyond exasperated. ‘You’ve got nothing to prove to me, nothing to prove to yourself. There’s no need to keep putting yourself in danger like this.’