What did he mean? Freddie asked the same question over and over in her head. Had he done all this to get photos of Nas? Had he put out a request on Are You Awake for pictures of her friend? Escalated it from there? Or was it just him toying with them? Making them squirm? Nas had only said one thing since they’d left: we shouldn’t have come.
She’d checked her phone on the way back, watching as the morning news beamed through the country, the world. A fresh wave of despair came from those who’d just seen the photos of Lottie. A missing eighteen year old. Had she seen the sun rise where she was being held? Or did she have her eyes screwed shut, longing for safety?
They drove into the underground car park, avoiding the journalists out front. Green’s phone rang as they stopped. ‘DC Green speaking.’
Nas got out and Freddie followed, listening to her friend’s heels echo on the concrete. What did he mean? Now what did they do? Nas pressed the call button on the lift repeatedly.
Green was still on her mobile, walking quickly to catch up. Nodding as she spoke. ‘I see. Yes. Thank you.’ She hung up, adding quietly, ‘dammit.’
Freddie swallowed. More bad news.
‘I got hold of someone at Romeland, Sarge. The current caretaker had the number for the administrator and I’ve just spoken to her.’
Freddie wondered if it was the same belligerent receptionist she’d met just yesterday. ‘But that’s good isn’t it?’ Freddie could hear the desperation in her voice. They needed a break. It wasn’t the Hashtag Murderer. They’d wasted their time. Given him a cheap thrill. Now they had to find a chink in Alex Black’s armour. There were only two hours to go. ‘Did she tell you how to get hold of Alex Black?’
Green’s face clouded. They got in the lift. ‘She’s only been at the school a couple of years. And guess what? All of Romeland High’s records are computerised, and about two months ago they had some kind of computer virus. They’ve lost everything – the whole lot.’
Freddie’s breath was coming fast. ‘It’s him: it has to be. He did that. He must have hacked their system. Sent in a Trojan or something.’ The lift doors pinged open and Nas was out and running.
‘Chloe’s thread appeared on Are You Awake two months ago. He must have destroyed the records to hide the link back to him.’
Saunders looked up as they came in. He was on the phone. Chips was down to his shirt sleeves, his tie abandoned over his chair.
‘We think Alex Black may have taken out Romeland’s online records,’ Nas said.
Was this part of the game? This has been fun. Is this what the Hashtag Murderer had meant? It had been easy to track Lottie: to hunt her. I wanted photos of you. Were they the next target? His prey.
‘They suffered a cyber attack two months ago,’ Green added.
Chips was up. ‘I don’t trust coincidences. There must be another way to confirm if he was there.’
‘What about the teachers? They must know?’ Freddie looked at Saunders, who was still talking on the phone. He looked disappointed. Another dead end.
‘Apparently a few years ago the headmaster was accused of having an affair: emails between him and one of the teachers were leaked to the governors,’ Green said. ‘The lady said it was quite the local scandal. He denied the allegations. A number of teachers resigned in support of him. And when the new head came in she replaced pretty much everyone.’
‘Jesus. Black again?’ How long had he been planning this for? He’d systematically removed all trace of himself.
‘I bet he’s responsible for at least some of that, but I doubt we’ll ever prove it.’ Nas rubbed at her eyes with her thumb and forefinger, then pulled a tissue from the box on the desk, swiping under her eyes. ‘He knew we’d come. He’s invisible.’
‘So there’s no one at the school who was there when Daisy Jones was there?’ asked Freddie. Frustration mingled fast with panic. How long would it take to track down the teachers who had been there and speak to them? Did they have that long?
‘There’s a Mrs Agnes Wilshire who apparently runs the alumni on a voluntary basis,’ said Green. ‘She’s retired but she did work in the school at the time Daisy Jones was there.’
Hope inflated like a balloon. ‘Then let’s speak to her!’
‘I’m waiting for the administrator to call me back with her number. She needs to get into the school to get it.’ She looked at her watch. ‘She should be there within forty-five minutes.’
Freddie’s heart was hammering. ‘Forty-five minutes? We can’t wait that long!’
‘Get onto the local force,’ Chips said. ‘Get them to go to Agnes Wilshire’s registered address. See if we can get hold of her sooner.’
Nas picked up the phone. Freddie was pacing. Thinking. Staring at her phone. Agnes Wilshire wasn’t on Facebook. She Googled her. She couldn’t find details of Agnes online. Not a silver surfer. Was it a coincidence that she was the last thread that linked to Romeland School’s past: a woman with no digital footprint? A local newspaper piece covered the ‘much-loved’ teacher’s retirement five years ago. If she had been sixty-five then, she’d be seventy now. They needed more. She started going through the printouts from Are You Awake again from the beginning.
‘Cudmore, West Herts force on line one,’ Saunders shouted.
Nas picked up the phone. They only had one hour and fifty-five minutes left. Come on, come on. She crossed her fingers.
Nas’s face fell and she hung up. ‘Agnes Wilshire isn’t answering. The neighbours say she often goes out to walk the dog first thing in the mornings. There’s been a major RTA on the motorway, so the constable can’t stay. They’ll try and pop back in thirty minutes or so.’
No. Freddie’s stomach was fizzing. The phone rang and Nas grabbed it.
‘Detective Sergeant Cudmore … Great! You can speak to me. Thanks for getting back to us.’ She grabbed her pen, mouthing admin at Green.
There was a knock and a male staff member popped his head round the door. ‘Call for the DI.’ Chips looked up. ‘DI Saunders, sir.’ Saunders replaced the receiver and swung his chair round to face them. ‘Line two, sir. They want to speak to the person in charge of the investigation. They said they’d hold.’ Saunders nodded and picked the receiver up. Could it be a Crimestoppers lead? A member of the public who’d seen something and realised the importance? Freddie’s heart was racing.
Nas hung up the phone and started pulling on her jacket. ‘Agnes Wilshire isn’t answering her phone and she doesn’t have a mobile. Apparently she doesn’t like the things,’ she said.
‘Very sensible.’ If anything could put you off technology, then it was this case.
‘We need to get over there. She’s due in today; every Thursday she does their alumni newsletter. She told her colleagues she’d be in late as she has a dentist appointment. They’ve promised they’ll get her to call us as soon as she gets in.’
In the corner DI Saunders had stood up, still on the phone, gripping it tightly. She caught the words. ‘I’m sorry. Very sorry.’ He wasn’t the type for contrition. The hairs on her arms stood to attention. Chips, Green and Nas turned to look. There was something in his tone, a warning, his legs jiggled. She could see his face colouring, but he was still apologising. Something’s wrong. Very, very wrong. Freddie tried to steady her breathing. It couldn’t be Lottie? Not yet: they still had time. Unless Black had changed the rules? Had visiting the Hashtag Murderer set something in motion?
‘I can promise you measures will be taken. Thank you,’ DI Saunders was saying. He held the receiver slightly away from his ear as if the other person was shouting. And then nodded, replacing it on the cradle.
His face was contorted with rage as he turned to glare at Nas. ‘Cudmore, do you want to explain to me why the fuck Chloe Strofton’s parents have just given me an ear bashing? They want to know why an officer who bullied their daughter is now asking questions about their other daughter’s death?’
Nasreen inhaled so fast she squeaked.
‘What?’ Chips looked aghast.
‘They want to know why I’ve let her,’ he pointed directly at Freddie, his face puce, ‘also ask questions. When she also bullied their kid.’
‘Sir, I can explain,’ Nas said. Freddie felt panic rise in her. Gemma. Gemma’s mum and dad. Never contact me again. She should have told Nas. Should have said something.
‘You know the family. You and her were accused of bullying one of the Stroftons’ other kids and you thought you wouldn’t fucking mention it!’ Saunders’s face was beetroot. He marched at her.
‘It was eight years ago …’ Nas said.
Saunders was leaning over her, his hands braced on the arms of her chair. Chips was up now. ‘I don’t give a fuck!’ he snarled in her face. ‘They could be called as witnesses for this case. If the defence lawyer sniffs out any relationship between an officer and a witness they’ll say you’re compromised: the case could collapse.’
Oh god. She hadn’t known that: why hadn’t Nas said?
‘I don’t have a relationship with them. And I haven’t spoken to Chloe’s parents,’ Nas managed.
‘No, but you and your little buddy here have been all over the kid’s school! You’ve spoken to her friends! Her teachers! Do you know how this looks?’
Chips pulled at Saunders. ‘That’s enough.’
Freddie saw Nas’s eyes glisten. ‘I thought I could help.’
‘You thought you could help?’ Saunders flicked a hand towards her face, almost as though he might hit her. Freddie jumped up and Chips put a hand out. ‘Like you thought it would help to screw the boss!’ Saunders screamed.
‘Fuck you,’ Freddie said.
‘Come on now, Pete,’ said Chips, pulling Saunders back a pace.
‘No.’ He shook him off. ‘She’s lied from start to finish!’ He jabbed his finger towards Nas. Freddie could hear her own breath; she was panting.
Nas was flushed, and blinking furiously. ‘I’m sorry, sir,’ she said. ‘I did what I thought was best for the investigation. I thought my inside knowledge of the family might help.’
‘Your behaviour has brought the unit into disrepute, Cudmore.’ Saunders turned his back on her.
‘No.’ Nas sounded like she couldn’t believe it.
‘I want you out of this office.’ Saunders didn’t look at her.
Panic surged through Freddie. This was wrong. He was making a mistake. Nas had only been trying to help – surely he could see that?
Nas looked desperate. ‘Sir, I …’
‘Enough. You’re suspended, as of now. You’re gone.’
Nas looked at Chips for help. He looked at the floor. Freddie’s heart ached for her.
‘But what about Black? What about Lottie? I can help.’ Nas’s voice was panicked. ‘There are links between me and the victims. We’re so close to finding him.’
‘I’m not having you compromising anything else. Get your stuff and go home. You too,’ he said, jabbing a finger at Freddie. Freddie felt heat pass through her. ‘Neither of you should have been near this case in the first place.’
Nas stood staring at Saunders, pleading with him silently. He turned away. Nas took her handbag and coat and stalked out, wiping a tear from her eye. What had she done?