Bolton, J. - Now You See Me

‘How you doing?’ he asked, when he was close enough.

‘I’m fine,’ I replied.

‘Up to taking a walk?’

I got out of the car, expecting to be sent on an errand. ‘Where?’ I asked.

‘Just round about,’ he said, not taking his eyes off me. ‘Keep looking at me. I want you to go a bit beyond the outer cordon, as though you’re getting some air.’

The outer cordon was being set up beyond the boating lake, keeping people at a distance.

‘There’s a good chance our friend will still be here. Don’t look round. He’ll be watching events unfold. He’ll be very keen to see you. You have a walk around and Stenning and I will keep a very close eye on anyone who seems a bit too interested in you.’

It took a second to sink in. ‘I’m bait?’

‘Lacey, we’ll be seconds away,’ said Stenning. ‘If anyone gets within shouting distance, we’ll have ’em.’

‘Goes without saying,’ said Joesbury. ‘I should also point out that this is not a directive, only if you feel up to it, and that DI Tulloch has informed me that if anything happens to you she will personally cut off my balls and feed them to the pigeons outside Southwark Cathedral.’

I almost smiled at that. ‘Well, that sounds like something I should see,’ I said.

Stenning patted me on the shoulder and then he and Joesbury walked away. A few seconds later I couldn’t see either of them. I dropped my head forward and rubbed the back of my neck. With a bit of luck, anyone watching would think I was stiff from sitting too long in the car. Then I walked across the asphalt, round the lake and towards the onlookers who had gathered at the outer cordon.

‘Excuse me,’ I muttered and stepped through. Without looking back, I walked past the children’s playground, following the line of blue-painted metal railings. I left the asphalt and took a mud track over a small, grassed hill. To my left I could see sports pitches and, beyond the park, a massive pink tower block. There were trees planted over the hill I was climbing, but not too many for me to worry about anyone lurking.

A large black crow hopped in front of me and it didn’t feel like a good omen.

Daylight was fading fast now and the sky had turned that lovely deep turquoise so typical of autumn evenings. It’s an odd time of day, I always think, no longer day, not yet night, a strange half-time when the world you know can – shift.

I realized my world had just shifted big time.

Back at the lake, the boat shed was lit up like a circus. The police surgeon was just arriving. I saw other people I knew milling about and knew that because of the lights they wouldn’t be able to see me. To all intents and purposes, I’d become invisible.

Unfortunately for my peace of mind, so had Joesbury and Stenning, and I just had to hope they knew what they were doing. Because, otherwise, I was on my own, a couple of hundred metres from anyone, in a rapidly darkening park and at the mercy of someone who might like to take his time over slaughtering women, but who could act pretty quickly when he needed to.

I carried on walking, to the crest of the hill and down the other side, before crossing the path and drawing close to a small lake. I could no longer see anything of the activity on the other side of the children’s play area. I still couldn’t see my two minders either. If they left me on my own out here then when it came to cutting off balls, DI Tulloch could get in line.

Above my head a three-quarter moon was shining and the first stars were beginning to appear. Shrubs had been planted around the lake’s perimeter and I decided to make my way round to the other side. It wouldn’t be as safe as staying in the open, but it probably had to be done. While I was safe, he wouldn’t come near.

The lake was reflecting the last of the sunset and the ripples around the reeds were a soft, deep pink. Bronze-coloured beech leaves drifted across the surface like tiny boats. The noise of the city never quite disappears in London, but in the midst of a large park it fades until it becomes little more than a background hum, like insects on a summer’s day. Parks in London offer the closest thing to peace and quiet in a big city. I watched a leaf skimming the surface of the water and thought I’d rarely felt less peaceful in my life.

The darkness was coming fast now and shadows were slinking across the grass towards me. The sounds of the investigation seemed to be a very long way away. I’d reached the edge of the lake. A sudden scrabbling, then a high-pitched call of alarm made me jump, but it was only a duck startled from its hiding place among the reeds. I watched her race towards the opposite bank and the ripples she’d left behind drifted towards me like whispers.

Damn Joesbury. Wasn’t it enough that I’d seen what this monster did to other women? Did I really have to walk round carrying a neon ‘pick me next’ sign?

The gentle thwack of a tennis ball being bounced. And I suddenly became aware of the hairs on the back of my neck. We’d reached the time of night when the park would normally close. My colleagues back at the crime scene would be persuading people to leave. No one could be playing tennis. And the courts were too far away.

Something struck me square between the shoulder blades.

What left my mouth was more of a terrified yelp than a scream. I doubt it would have carried. I jumped round. No one there. I was spinning on the spot. Nothing. No one anywhere near me. But five feet away, nestling in some dandelion leaves, was a yellow tennis ball. I turned in the direction from which it must have come. And saw him.

A man, slender enough to be a boy. We stared at each other. He was about a hundred metres away, too far for me to make out his face, so I couldn’t be sure it was Samuel Cooper, but everything I could see seemed to fit. He was white and in his mid to late twenties, fair – of complexion and hair colour – rather than dark. He was also tall and I remembered reading that Cooper was close to six foot. He wore skateboarding clothes: baggy jeans trailing to the ground, a loose dark jacket with coloured symbols and a tight-fitting beanie hat. The tennis racket was still in his right hand.

Then he was off, racing like a fox across the grass, darting behind bushes, heading for one of the side gates, and Joesbury was on his tail.

Joesbury was older than Cooper, but he was stronger and clearly fitter. The gap between them was narrowing. I heard more running footsteps and turned to see Pete Stenning speeding towards me, shouting into his radio as he went.

‘You OK?’ he gasped as he got close.

I’d been watching the two dark figures, could barely see them any more.

‘I’m fine,’ I said. ‘Get after them.’

Stenning was panting, bending over to catch his breath. ‘Guv’nor said I had to stay with you,’ he said.

He and I looked at each other for a second and then we were both running across the grass. We couldn’t see Joesbury or the man he was chasing, but we knew where they’d gone. Stenning was taller than me and no doubt faster, but he’d already sprinted across the grass to get to me. Besides, he’d been told to stick close, so we ran together, across the football pitches, to the edge of the park.

There was no gate at this point, just a blue-painted barrier to stop children running too quickly towards the nearby roads. We dodged round it and found ourselves on a small side road. Cars were parked along one edge. No sign of Joesbury or his prey.

‘We should split up,’ I said.

‘No fucking way.’

With no clue which way to go, we jogged forward to a street of red-brick Victorian houses. Queen’s Gate Villas. There were several pedestrians, a cyclist went past us faster than the traffic. No one we recognized. We waited as footsteps behind told us that colleagues, alerted by Stenning’s radio call, had come to join us. On his radio, we could hear that others had left the park at different gates and were heading our way, hoping to cut our suspect off. We heard Joesbury’s voice giving instructions. It didn’t sound hopeful. After a few minutes, we saw Joesbury himself appear on a large, grassed area at the other side of the road. He shook his head at us and then dodged his way through the cars until he reached us.