Nas stalked out of the school reception, leaving Freddie to sign them out. The receptionist, her face a slapped arse, handed her a pen. Freddie’s mind was reeling with images: Chloe in her knickers and bra, looking miserable; Lottie pouting seductively at the camera; Lottie gagged and bleeding. She thought of different photos too, ones she’d taken and sent to others. Lovers. She and her mates, Vic and Hannah from uni, they’d had a phase of sending Snaps of their boobs. It was a laugh. A tit-off. Squashed together, nips out in a bathroom, stupid faces. Once, she’d turned her nipples into eyes and drawn a smile in eyeliner on her stomach. Then they’d run out of steam, or found better things to do, or better people to send naked pics to. She wasn’t bothered who saw her tits. They were natural. No reason why it was fine for blokes to walk around topless, when it wasn’t for women. She’d written an article about the #FreeTheNipple campaign. Grown angry at those who’d shamed women for breastfeeding in public, even though the thought of actually doing that herself grossed her out. She’d been socialised so successfully into believing tits were sexual things that she felt queasy about their real function. Then again, having children seemed an alien prospect. Even when she hadn’t been back living with her parents, she’d only made it as far as a sofa in Dalston. Babies, children, having a family of her own … Those felt as realistic as getting a mortgage and paying off her student loan.
Outside, Nas was still on her phone; she’d walked down the road away from her. She was gesturing with one hand as she spoke, but Freddie couldn’t hear the words. Just to the right of the gates, sitting on the steps of the kind of twee wooden door that would’ve made Cath Kidston come, were three girls. Bundled under scarves, she saw the smart casual navy-blue clothes she presumed was sixth-form dress code. They were smoking. She glanced at Nas. She didn’t look like she was about to finish, and Freddie didn’t fancy heading back to the pass agg DC Green. She walked towards the girls; they were chatting, laughing, each a phone in hand, ciggies tucked in their fingers behind. A world away from the horror she was tumbling around in.
‘Good thing I ain’t a teacher,’ she said.
They stopped talking and looked up at her. One, her face prettier than the other two, even though she had the least amount of make-up on, shielded her eyes from the sun with a small white hand. ‘Can we help you?’
Polite, middle-class kids: this was as confrontational as they got. What would it be like to have naked photos of you shown to others in this world? ‘Can I bum a cigarette?’ She felt ancient standing in front of them. A different tick box: 18–21, 22–25. Jesus, she’d be twenty-five this time next year!
The girl who’d spoken shrugged and pulled the packet from her jeans. Freddie took one. ‘Cheers.’ She felt the familiar weight on her lips. ‘Got a light?’
One of the girls held up a yellow plastic one. Freddie shielded the wind. Inhaled. Felt the warm smoke. Leant back. Exhaled. ‘You go to Romeland High?’
‘Yeah.’ The girl with the fingerless gloves narrowed her eyes. What’d she done to be made Queen Bee of this little clique?
‘Did you know Chloe Strofton?’
‘The girl who killed herself?’ The girl with the lighter sounded vaguely disgusted.
‘Yeah.’
‘So sad.’ Fingerless gloves girl’s eyelids fluttered. ‘A tragic waste.’
Freddie had the feeling this wasn’t the first time she’d said this. She sounded like a government spokesperson after a national tragedy: sympathetic but removed. It was a reminder that teens could be cold, calculating, capable of more than you might suspect.
‘She was in year eleven. I didn’t know her, but I saw her around.’ She touched her clavicle lightly, making it personal. Making it about her. Just the kind of girl who wouldn’t give two hoots about Chloe in real life.
Freddie reminded herself that just because she and Nas and Gemma, Chloe’s sister, hadn’t been in the cool crowd, it didn’t mean that Chloe hadn’t pulled it off. Pretty. Popular. Good at school. Boyfriend. All the stuff you needed to succeed at being a teen girl. Before it all went wrong. ‘Did you hear anything about some nude photos of Chloe being circulated?’
To give them credit they looked shocked. ‘No,’ fingerless gloves girl said. ‘Why would someone do that?’
‘Rookie error,’ said the other girl, earning herself an evil look from the third and resolutely silent girl. Her heart-shaped face was pink, her lips pursed into a look of – what? Distaste? Panic? Freddie settled on recognition.
‘Thanks for the fag.’ Nas was coming up the road, a look of anger on her face. Busted. Shouldn’t be making small talk with the kiddies.
‘Are you the police?’ Fingerless gloves girl eyed the rolled waistband of Freddie’s jeans.
‘No. But she is.’ Freddie nodded at Nas. The girls stubbed their cigarettes out quickly, kicking them away, even though they were legally old enough to smoke. They ducked past Nasreen in a tight gaggle, heads down, looking at their phones. Back to teen world.
‘What are you doing?’ Nas said.
‘Just getting a cigarette,’ she said.
‘From the children?’
‘They were sixth formers.’
‘You can’t just go speaking to minors about a case,’ Nas snapped. The tops of her ears were red.
‘Wrong. I’m not police: I can do what I like.’
‘What did you say to them?’ Nas demanded.
‘Nothing. I told you, I just asked for a fag!’ She waved the cigarette about in the air.
‘I thought you’d quit?’
‘Jesus, what is this? Are you my mother? I fancied a fag. I asked for a fag. End of story.’
Nas looking unconvinced and started up the slope at a pace. Freddie had to take two steps at a time to keep up. ‘What did your lot say about the photos?’ She would’ve thought she’d be pleased. ‘This is another link, isn’t it? Between the two girls. Something other than us, I mean.’ Nas stopped and it took everything she had not to plough into her suited back, holding the fag out so as not to catch her hair. ‘Christ, watch it!’
Nas turned to face her. She’d lost the look of anger that had singed her ears moments before. Her eyebrows were knit together. Her eyes showed her tiredness. She looked like she’d had about as much sleep as Freddie had recently. Freddie sucked on the ciggie. ‘Freddie, look …’ She faltered.
‘You aren’t seriously pissed off that I’ve had a cheeky fag – I deserve one after the last couple of hours.’
‘No, it’s not that, it’s …’ She batted the smoke away. ‘Look can you put that out a minute and just listen.’ The red was appearing on her ears again.
Freddie dropped the cigarette, overzealously grinding it into the floor. ‘Better?’ Nas was getting annoying now.
‘I was just talking to my boss.’ She was waving her hands around, palms open, as if she were offering her something. ‘And, well …’
‘Spit it out, Nas.’ Freddie thrust her hands into her pockets. ‘It’s cold out here.’ Nas looked pained. She felt the smile fall from her face and smash on the floor, fear breaking round her feet. ‘Has there been another message? Another photo? Is Lottie okay?’ Oh god.
‘No, it’s nothing like that.’ Nas looked desperate, as if she were willing her to do something. ‘It’s … Look, Freddie, I haven’t exactly been straight with you.’
Freddie sucked her cheeks in. I knew it. A chill feeling trickled down her spine. Would she have left the house if it had been anyone else? Been so willing to leave the last few months behind? ‘What do you mean?’
Nas had a look of sadness on her face. ‘I haven’t exactly told my boss about you.’
‘What?’ She was struggling to fit this together – a minute ago they’d found a link between Chloe and Lottie, another one. Admittedly not a nice one, but it was something. Her fingers closed round her phone. She wanted to check something. But now this, Nas going all weird on her. ‘You were just talking to him, weren’t you – on the phone?’
‘That was DI McCain – Chips. He’s my superior, yes, and I told him I was talking to you about the case.’
‘So what’s the problem?’
‘I didn’t tell anyone else.’ Nas put out a hand to stop her from walking past. ‘I didn’t tell DI Saunders or DCI Burgone.’
‘Lottie’s brother?’ Freddie frowned. ‘Why?’
‘He doesn’t know I’m – we’re – here. Well, he does now. We need to bring in the tech lads to look into the poster calling himself Liam on Are You Awake. See if we can track his IP address. I want to know where he got those photos from, and whether he knew Chloe in real life.’
‘Do you think he could be linked to Lottie? I saw his name at least once in her thread.’ She pulled the phone from her pocket. ‘Let’s have a look and see if he crops up any more. My money’s still on it being Will though. Do you think he’d be capable of taking Lottie?’
‘Freddie, you’re not listening. I’ve really screwed up with this. I took a chance bringing you in.’ Her eyes were wide, desperate.
‘Yeah, and we found this website.’ The photos on Are You Awake were a colourful blur as she shook her phone at her.
‘Yes. But now I have to take what I have back in to the team. Saunders has just torn me a new one for going AWOL.’ Nas’s face was so stretched into contrition it looked painful.
‘I?’ Was she being given the brush off? ‘You can’t turn up at my house, with no warning, and just show me photos of dead and kidnapped girls, Nas. And then ditch me. You can’t get me involved in something like this and then drop me!’
‘It’s not up to me.’ Nas looked at the ground, at the smeared ash on the cobbled path. ‘You’ve been really helpful, Freddie. I don’t know if I’d have got this far without you.’
‘Bullshit!’ Freddie stabbed her finger towards Nas, whose reflexes apparently weren’t dulled by lack of sleep; her hand shot up and closed over Freddie’s finger before it connected with her breastbone. ‘Ouch! Let go!’
‘Sorry.’ Nas dropped her hand.
‘Sorry? Is that all you’ve got to say?’ Freddie’s temper bubbled up and over, words spewing from her mouth before she could catch hold of them. ‘You thought I was good enough to help you on this ten minutes ago, when you came to my parents’ house and practically begged me. And now, because some idiot in a uniform has said so, you’ve changed your mind? That’s weak, Nas. Really fucking weak.’ Nas’s jaw was set; she had the feeling she was grinding her teeth. ‘This is not school. This is not some stupid thing we did as kids.’ She shuddered involuntarily at the mention of what they’d done before. ‘This is serious. Lottie is missing, and I can help. Whoever has her sent me her photo, too – did you tell your boss that?’
‘No. I …’
‘Don’t bow to some stuck-up copper because you’re a good little girl. You’re better than that! I’m better than that!’ The last words rained out in a hail of spittle that settled on the street in tiny bubbles before they burst and vanished. Freddie exhaled. Nas was still looking at her, her eyes fixed somewhere just beyond hers, as if she were trying to see into her mind.
‘You’re right,’ she said.
‘What?’
Nas started off up the hill again. ‘You’re right. You are an asset to this case. We’ve got a new link between the victims, a possible lead. And you were part of that.’
‘What?’ Freddie was trying to keep up. How was she managing to walk even faster than before? Freddie was jogging to keep up, puffs of air coming out in short sharp bursts.
‘I made a difficult call and it’s paid off. DI Saunders will have to cope.’
As the cold air hit the back of her throat, mingled with the leftover nicotine, Freddie coughed. ‘Can you just slow down!’
‘We need to get back to the station. The sooner the better.’
She was getting a stitch. ‘What time is it?’
Nas flicked her hand out and looked at her watch. ‘We have just over eighteen hours.’
Freddie had broken into a full trot by the time they reached the car. Nas, and her long legs, folded into the front, sweeping the tail of her black coat behind her. Freddie threw herself into the back.
‘DI Saunders and Chips have been trying to reach you, Sarge.’ Green was immediately on them. The car smelt of coffee and sweaty pastry.
‘We’ve had a photo message that confirms Lottie is being held against her will,’ Nas said.
‘Yes, I heard.’ Green screwed up the paper bag in her lap and stuffed it into the door well. ‘I put a cheeky call in to a pal on digital forensics – not good news I’m afraid. They can’t get anything from it.’
Green jumped as Nas slammed her palm against the glove compartment. ‘We need to get back to the office.’ Freddie swallowed her rising panic.
‘Are we dropping our guest off first?’ Green jerked her head towards the back seat, trying to disguise her own apprehension at Nas’s outburst.
‘No. We’re all going,’ Nas answered.
Green looked confused, as if she might have misheard her. Freddie almost felt sorry for her, as Nas snapped, ‘Quickly please,’ and the cop started the engine.
Freddie’s breath calmed enough for her to force the words out. ‘I think you’re right about the fags.’
Green flicked on the lights, the houses and shops of St Albans splashed with blue flashes. They were going to London. Now. Fast. She was going back. Freddie tugged at the skin on her lip. Was she ready? They swung round a corner as the sun disappeared behind a cloud, stealing the bright colours, and washing everything in grey, before it flared blue. Blue. Grey. Blue. Grey. The wail of the siren filled the car. Freddie shivered. She didn’t know if it was because of the drop in temperature or the nerves. Closing her eyes she saw Lottie’s bloodied face. Opening them she saw London rushing towards her. What would be waiting for them?