Thursday 27 January, 11.20
Loxton left Kowalski at Camberwell station to head back to Walworth with the CCTV. But before she set off she knew she needed to tell the others about Emma. It was worrying her that Barratt had recently tried to escape, even if DCI Winter and DI Meyer didn’t see it. The others needed to know what had happened. Somehow, even contemplating telling them made it feel more real.
She picked up her phone and called Jane first.
‘Just a minute, Joseph’s asleep.’ She heard Jane close a door and it sounded like she was going downstairs.
‘Shoot.’
‘It’s about Emma. I’m so sorry, Jane, I’ve got to give you the worst news. She’s been murdered.’
There was silence on the other end of the phone.
‘She’d been left inside Camberwell Police Station.’
‘Oh God,’ Jane said. ‘Was it really her?’
‘Yes. I was first on scene. Look, I don’t know who did it, but it doesn’t feel like a domestic to me anymore. It feels more like a Barratt killing to me.’
‘Poor Emma,’ Jane said. ‘What did we miss back then? Was there someone else involved as well as Barratt? Someone we didn’t know about?’
‘I don’t know.’ Loxton had thought the same thing. They’d assumed Barratt had been working alone, but now someone had tried to break him out of prison and Emma was dead. If the two were related, someone was working on Barratt’s behalf to exact revenge. But who?
‘I don’t know, but can you get out of town? Take Ben and your boys and just go. I don’t want to scare you, but this is bad, Jane.’
‘I’ll talk to Ben. We’ll leave today. I won’t take no for an answer.’
‘Thank you. I’m sorry. If anything changes I’ll call you, okay? Keep an eye on the media too.’
Loxton hung up and sat staring at her mobile for a few moments, shell-shocked.
She tried calling Sarah with a shaking hand, but it just rang out. Again. It made her nervous. But she told herself it was just that Sarah was working undercover, that was all. Then she called Gabriella.
‘Hi, Alana, everything okay?’ Gabriella answered.
‘I’m so sorry. It’s about Emma. It’s bad news, I’m afraid.’
‘Shit, is she all right?’
‘She was found a couple of hours ago, in Camberwell station. She’s been murdered.’
‘God,’ Gabriella said. ‘Are you sure it’s her?’
‘I saw her myself, Gabriella. I’m sorry.’
There was a shaking sob and then Loxton heard Gabriella take a breath in, letting it out slowly. ‘I’m okay. I’m fine,’ she said, sounding anything but fine. ‘You’re arresting the boyfriend again, right?’
‘He’s a suspect, but I’m not sure he’s got anything to do with it, Gabbie. There was a note and I was mentioned in it. So was Emma. I think this could be to do with Barratt.’
‘Alana, you need to let Barratt go. It’s got nothing to do with him. Focus on the boyfriend, for Emma’s sake. I told her he was no good. It was him; I just know it.’
‘I’ve told Jane to get out of town for a bit. To be safe. Do you think you could take some time off?’
‘You expect me to run away? Are you joking? You’re not running, so why should I? I want to find out who did this to her just as much as you do. I work on the murder squad. I can ask to be assigned to Emma’s case.’
‘Okay, just, seeing her like that has shook me up, Gabbie. It was just like a Barratt murder.’ Loxton tried to hold the tears back.
‘You can’t protect everyone, Alana. And you don’t have to. We can take care of ourselves. Thanks for calling me. God, Emma. How could this have happened? She was the sweetest.’
Loxton felt an overwhelming sadness. ‘I wouldn’t believe it if I hadn’t seen her for myself. Be careful.’
‘You too. And don’t worry, I can handle myself.’ Gabriella hung up but it made Loxton uneasy that Gabriella was so fixated on Pearce. She knew, though, that once Gabriella made her mind up, there was no changing it.
She dialled Sarah’s number again but there was still no answer. She needed her to know what was going on. She drove the twenty minutes to Sarah’s flat. It had been a while since she’d been here, maybe two Christmases ago for their usual get-together. She parked outside, just behind Sarah’s red Mazda.
Sarah’s windows were all in darkness. Loxton let herself into the communal entrance using her fire door key and made her way up to the third floor. The block seemed deserted, but she could hear the rhythmical banging of some dance music coming from one of the flats. She reached Sarah’s door and knocked hard. There was no answer, as she’d suspected, so she tried the handle, but the door was locked.
Loxton tried Sarah’s mobile again and listened at the door. It wasn’t ringing from inside the flat. She crouched down, opened the letterbox and peered into the dark, using her mobile’s torch to light up the floor inside. She saw a pile of letters scattered on the doormat. Sarah hadn’t been here for some time. Loxton didn’t like it.
A shiver ran down her spine and she suddenly got the feeling she was being watched. As she turned her head, she saw a man standing right behind her.
‘Trying to get hold of Sarah?’ the man asked. She jumped up and her back was against Sarah’s door he was stood so close. The man was tanned, with rough stubble and gelled hair. He was wearing designer charcoal jeans and a tight black T shirt. He looked like he’d just walked off stage at a rock concert.
‘Who are you?’ How had he crept up on her like that? She was normally so aware of her surroundings. She inched her hand towards her baton and hoped he wouldn’t notice. The corridor was deserted but if she screamed, the residents might come out to help her.
‘I’m DS Steve Anson, Sarah’s sergeant. We’d best go inside her flat to speak.’
He leaned past Loxton and unlocked the door. She watched him walk inside as if he owned the place and she checked either side of her and followed him in.
‘Have you got your warrant card?’ she asked.
He smiled at her. ‘You’re overly cautious, aren’t you?’ He pulled out his warrant card and showed her.
She felt herself relax slightly as she closed the front door behind her.
‘I’m DC Alana Loxton. I need to speak to Sarah.’
‘I know who you are. You’ve called the office before.’ Anson walked into the living room and went over to a large tropical fish tank, scattering some flakes on the surface. ‘She’s undercover on a sex trafficking operation and she’s meant to check in every hour but she hasn’t.’
Loxton couldn’t stop the growing dread she felt. ‘When did she last check in?’
‘Twenty-four hours ago.’ He stared at her, as if defying her to say anything.
‘And you obviously can’t ask the guys she’s with where she’s gone?’
‘I’m not blowing her cover just because she hasn’t been able to get us a message for a day. It happens. Not often, but it does happen. Why are you trying to get hold of her?’
‘A friend of hers has died.’
‘I’m sorry to hear that. Who passed away?’ Anson sat down on a sofa and motioned for her to take a seat, so she sat on an armchair opposite him.
‘I’d rather speak to her myself.’
‘That’s not going to happen. What’s the friend’s name? I’ll tell her.’
‘The friend is DC Emma Robins. She’s been murdered. We need to speak to Sarah, find out when she last spoke to her. If Emma told her about any concerns or about anything unusual happening.’
‘It’ll have to wait. She’s been on this op since Sunday night, so she probably won’t be able to help you anyway.’
Loxton was beginning to dislike Anson. ‘Can you just get hold of her? This is serious. I need to know she’s okay.’
‘I’m not going to do anything rash just because you’ve got a nervous disposition.’ He stared at her like she was mad.
‘How long’s the operation been running?’
Anson looked as uncomfortable as she was about sharing information. ‘A year, but this is strictly between us.’
She nodded. ‘How have you lost her?’
‘We know where she is; she’s not lost. It’s a warehouse lockout they’ve been operating out of. We have a few devices in there and she’s able to send clicks back to tell us she’s okay.’
‘Has she ever been out of contact for this long before?’
Anson scratched the back of his neck lazily. ‘No. But the equipment isn’t perfect. Look, we should probably give it another day. I’ll get a source in, we can confirm she’s fine and you can stop panicking.’
‘An officer’s dead.’ Loxton tried to keep her voice steady but failed. ‘Sarah might not have a day if something’s happened to her.’
‘I hear you, but I heard about this officer’s murder on the radio coming over here. It sounded like a domestic. The ex is the prime suspect. Sarah isn’t involved in any of that. I know it’s sadder than normal to us because it’s a police officer, but we could screw up this whole operation if we’re not careful, and for nothing.’
Loxton didn’t like his priorities. He seemed more obsessed with his operation’s success than his own officer’s welfare. She didn’t fancy Sarah’s chances if it was up to Anson.
‘I don’t think it was the ex.’ Loxton surprised herself by saying it with such confidence to someone she’d only just met. ‘Look, I worked with Sarah on the murder squad on the Edward Barratt serial killer case. There were five of us. Five females, that is. And now, one of us is dead. The killer always said he’d get us back. He hated women. He never threatened the male DCs. I have a bad feeling DC Emma Robins’s murder is somehow connected to Barratt.’
‘Wow. You’ve got one keen imagination. Unfortunately, I haven’t got time for wild theories.’
‘It’s not a wild theory. The ex has got an alibi and is denying any involvement. And I saw Emma’s murder. It was exactly like a Barratt murder; it was like I was back there investigating him. Sarah going missing might be a coincidence, but can we really take that chance?’
Anson looked away and for a moment Loxton thought she saw concern flash across his face. It was quickly replaced by his usual relaxed look; almost like a defence mechanism, she thought. ‘Sarah’s talked highly of you in the past. Said I should get you on the team when a place comes up. I know this other detective was your friend and this is hard for you, but you need to control your emotions. And after dealing with Barratt you’re bound to be suffering a little PTSD. Your friend’s murder is a domestic.’
‘This isn’t a domestic, trust me,’ she said, knowing Anson had no reason to trust her. ‘This feels like Barratt. He escaped from Broadmoor Hospital last week. They caught him within the hour, but I think someone tried to help him. We need to make sure Sarah’s safe. If something’s happened to her and you didn’t act, then you won’t be able to live with yourself. I was the last person to see Emma alive on Saturday night. If I’d done something differently…’ Loxton stared at him, her hands balled into fists. She wasn’t going to let anything happen to another friend.
‘Take it easy,’ he said but he didn’t look so sure himself now. ‘Look, I don’t like that someone tried to break him out. I can ask my boss for authority to interrupt the operation, but if this is all for nothing this isn’t going to help your career or mine. And I’ll make sure everyone knows it was your concerns that called it off.’
Anson was a legend in the surveillance world. People respected him. He could make things hard for her if she turned out to be wrong.
He tilted his head, waiting. ‘Are you still so sure you want to fuck up my operation for your hunch?’
‘Call off your operation.’
Anson shook his head in annoyance. ‘For fuck’s sake. Okay, have it your way. I’ll get it authorized. I’ll start the arrest phase, but it’s going to take me a few hours to get everything in place and signed off by the bosses. It’s not the sort of place you just turn up to, either. These guys have guns on the premises. I’ll get Sarah arrested just like everyone else, to protect her cover. Most of them will get bail so there’s a chance she might be able to carry on in her undercover role. Obviously this is all need-to-know. This doesn’t go anywhere else.’
‘I’ll need to tell DCI Winter at the very least and I’d expect to be involved. After all, it’s my career that’s on the line as well as yours.’ Loxton folded her arms in front of her chest.
‘Fine, you’re welcome to be part of the arrest team. Just let us do the talking and don’t fuck it up for us. Do you know how many women they’ve trafficked? We suspect it’s in the hundreds. We’ve spent thousands on this op. Sarah’s going to be pissed off that we messed this op up by panicking over some imagined threat.’
‘Let’s hope she’s furious and you’re telling me “I told you so”,’ Loxton said, praying that he was right.