M. Arlidge - The Doll's House

Emilia nodded then continued:

‘Apparently the son – Ben – was ungovernable after Summer’s death. Police, doctors, social services – nobody could handle him.’

‘Because he was mad with grief.’

‘Still is mad with grief,’ Emilia added, echoing Helen’s thoughts.

‘And you’re sure about this address?’

‘Well I haven’t been down there, but I know it.’

‘Good. Thank you, Emilia.’

Helen was halfway to the door, when Emilia called out:

‘Usual rules?’

‘You’ll get your exclusive,’ Helen said over her shoulder, as she hurried back into the station.

‘So the address is a boot-heeling and key-cutting concession in the WestQuay shopping centre. It’s called WestKeys.’

Nobody groaned at the bad pun. The team were hanging on Helen’s words, processing this major development.

‘I’ll need volunteers for a surveillance unit to go down there.’

Helen was pleased to see a dozen hands shoot up.

‘But before we go, lets double-check our facts. Pippa Briers worked in the WestQuay shopping centre, so it would have been convenient for her to get her keys cut there. Ditto Isobel Lansley, who walked through the centre every day on her way to lectures.’

‘Roisin Murphy went to a free mums and babies group that was held in the crèche at the shopping centre,’ DC McAndrew chipped in.

‘And Ruby?’

‘Ruby used to hang out in the centre with her mates. Window shopping, getting up to no good.’

‘Then it fits. They took their keys there and walked into Ben Fraser’s life. They looked just like his sister, so he kept a key, stalked them, then abducted them.’

‘But to make them perfect – a replica of his sister – he would have to “customize them”,’ DC Sanderson interjected.

‘The tattoo,’ Helen responded, ‘and possibly more besides.’

‘Where does he get the stuff, though, the trichloroethylene?’ DC Grounds queried.

‘Let’s think about what Jim Grieves said,’ Helen countered. ‘Trichloroethylene is used in cleaning agents, solvents but also boot polish. You could perhaps extract it from boot polish -’

‘Without ever drawing attention to yourself. No trail of any kind.’

‘But why does he starve them? If he loves these girls?’

DC Lucas’s question hung in the air for a moment, before Helen replied:

‘Why don’t we go and ask him?’

‘Hello Ruby.’

Ruby had crawled into the corner and stared up at her captor with ill-concealed fear.

‘Don’t be afraid. I’m not going to hurt you.’

Ruby kept her eyes riveted to him. The more he insisted he wasn’t going to hurt her, the more convinced she was that he would.

He sat down on the bed a few feet away and looked around the room as if seeing it for the first time.

‘I have a confession to make.’

He smiled now, looking for all the world as if he were blissfully happy.

‘I made a mistake.’

Ruby stared at him. What was he up to? Where was this going?

‘I got the wrong girl. I shouldn’t have taken you. I’m sorry.’

He seemed genuinely penitent. And oddly relaxed.

‘What are you going to do to me?’ Ruby asked, her voice shaking as fear bit.

‘What do you think I’m going to do to you?’

He half laughed as he said it, as if she were the one that was mad, not him.

‘I’m going to let you go.’

‘Is there another way in?’ Helen barked, pulling Sanderson aside, her frustration finally getting the better of her.

‘Not according to the architect’s plans,’ Sanderson countered.

They had arrived at the WestQuay shopping centre discreetly – fifteen officers, all casually dressed as if for shopping – and fanned out, taking up their various vantage points. A few passes confirmed what was obvious straight away. Despite the fact that that it was only 5 p.m., WestKeys was shut.

They couldn’t force the shutters open without causing a scene and possibly alerting the suspect – or friends of his – to their presence. So Helen was keen to find another way in. But the shop was small – a glorified kiosk really sandwiched between bigger, brighter outlets – and had no rear entrance.

‘Keep our eye on it,’ said Helen, handing over the surveillance to Sanderson and marching over to DC McAndrew, who stood with her mobile clamped to her ear.

‘What have you got?’

McAndrew held her hand over the mouthpiece as she replied:

‘WestKeys is owned by an Edward Loughton.’

‘So Ben Fraser is just an employee. Can we raise Loughton? If he can give us a home address for Ben Fraser, then we might still be able to save Ruby.’

‘Loughton died three years ago. He’s got a sister who lives somewhere locally, we’re trying to track her down.’

McAndrew resumed the call, spelling out the name of the woman they now sought. As she did so, Helen paced up and down. Every delay, every setback would cost them dear now. They were so close to unmasking him, but would it all be for nothing? Thoughts of Alison and Jonathan Sprackling arrowed into her mind now – she could sense their desperation, their longing to be reunited with the girl they had rescued all those years ago. Helen refused to believe that their kindness had been for nothing, that Ruby could be snuffed out as cruelly as the other girls. But she was powerless to influence matters and the fact that the shop had been shut early filled her with alarm. Any deviation from his normal routine was bad news for them.

And bad news for Ruby.

Helen stopped in her tracks as soon as she entered the lobby of the Great Southern. She had been in a world of her own, walking automatically towards the lift bank, but the sight of Daniel Briers at reception brought her to a halt. He had a suitcase with him and by his side stood a tall lady with long dark hair and an elegantly swollen belly.

‘Daniel?’

He turned and on seeing Helen smiled – but it was forced and unconvincing.

‘Are you leaving?’

‘I am,’ he replied, failing to look her in the eye. ‘I wanted to stay for the duration as you know. But obviously I’ve got other responsibilities so… This is Kristy, my wife.’

‘DI Helen Grace. I’m running the investigation -’

‘I know who you are,’ Kristy Briers replied, shaking hands cursorily with Helen.

‘You’ve got all our contact details haven’t you, in case there’s any news…’ Daniel continued. His concern and interest were genuine, but Helen could sense he just wanted to be out of this conversation.

‘Of course. In fact I was just coming here to update you. There have been some significant dev-’

‘Do you always update people in hotel rooms? At night?’

Kristy’s question was delivered calmly, but had an edge to it that was hard to miss.

‘No, but I made your husband a promise to keep him up to speed with the very latest developments. And I was honouring that promise.’

Helen’s tone was even but firm. She had undoubtedly put herself in an awkward position by handling Daniel Briers personally, but they had done nothing wrong, so why should she be castigated for showing compassion?

Pulling the couple aside, Helen told them about the police search for Ben Fraser and her hope that they would soon make an arrest. Daniel asked a few questions, but the conversation swiftly came to a natural conclusion. There was nothing more to say.

‘Thank you, Helen. For everything. It would mean the world to me to see justice done.’

He spoke from the heart, but the words still sounded strange to Helen. Everything was slightly off tonight. Daniel shook her hand formally and with a brief look back walked towards the awaiting car. Kristy made to follow then paused, turning back to Helen.