The call came at 19:00. Jed Holmes had alerted Sarah, who had been en route to Reynolds’ home anyway. Beth had a transcript ready and the recording cued for when the DI arrived. Harries had gone along for more than just the ride. He’d been here with Sarah at the start, told her he wanted to be around for what could be the end-game. If the recent exchange on the phone was anything to go by, it sounded that way too.
‘One more time please, Jed.’ Sarah slipped off her coat, the heat getting to her.
‘No,’ Nicola wailed. ‘I can’t bear to hear it again.’ The DI nodded at Beth who put an arm round the woman’s waist and steered her out of the sitting room.
Sarah needed a second listen: the voice wasn’t immediately Portman’s. On the other hand, if he suspected for a second the police were in on the act, it wouldn’t be. Like he’d be thick enough not to disguise it. She lifted her pen. Jed took his cue, hit play.
Did you really think you’d get away with it, Nicola?
Where’s my daughter, you bastard? You swore you’d let her go.
Language, language. Caitlin’s going nowhere. You said you’d kill the old cow.
She’s dead, for Christ’s sake. What more do you want?
I told you what I wanted.
God damn you to hell, my mother died in agony.
You didn’t kill her.
A five-second silence was broken only by Sarah’s pen scratching the paper.
I know everything, Nicola. Like I know you’ll never see your darling daughter again.
Harm her and you’re dead. I swear to God I’ll kill you with my bare hands.
Like mother, like daughter. I’ll call later … you’ll probably want to say goodbye.
The final words sent a chill down Sarah’s spine. In marked contrast to Nicola’s screamed abuse, the abductor’s delivery was utterly devoid of emotion.
‘Cool bastard, isn’t he?’ Harries folded his arms.
‘Dry ice.’ She lifted her gaze. ‘And deadly.’
‘Bloody crackpot if you ask me.’ Jed sniffed.
‘That’s the last thing he is.’ The perp wasn’t a step or two ahead of the cops; he was so far in front he was out of sight. Like Caitlin. There’d still not been a single sighting of the teenager since her last day at school. School. Jake Portman. A caretaker with keys. Access to the entire building. The DI shook her head. Queen’s Ridge had been searched twice. If Portman was their man, he couldn’t have Caitlin holed up there.
‘What is it, boss?’ Harries heard her out, then: ‘There’s no way she’s on site now but …’ He narrowed his eyes, imagining scenarios. ‘I guess it would’ve been easy enough for him to grab her, spirit her away in a store room, an outbuilding, somewhere like that.’
She nodded. ‘Or just come up with an excuse for her to show him where he could find … God, I don’t know … a book or a classroom or something.’ Portman was good-looking, plausible. Caitlin would have no reason to fear him.
‘All he’d need do is bide his time until everyone left.’
‘Before bundling her into the back of a motor.’ And taking her God knew where. She glanced over at Holmes. ‘Get on to the incident room, will you, Jed? See if Jake Portman’s pic is ringing any bells. And ask if Leicestershire Social Services has come up with anything yet.’ Jack Bolton had been in a couple of its children’s homes, hopefully there would be a photograph on file.
‘I still don’t get it, boss.’ Harries frowned. ‘If Portman was there last night, doing what he did probably saved the old girl’s life.’
‘I think the answer’s here.’ She showed him the transcript, pointed out what she’d underlined.
‘“You didn’t kill her.”’ He glanced a query at Sarah.
She shook her head. ‘“You didn’t kill her.”’
His eyes widened as the implication sank in. ‘Nicola had to do it herself?’
‘I think he drove the yobs away so they couldn’t kill her. He wants Walker’s blood on Nicola’s hands.’ Make that wanted. Sarah reckoned the option no longer existed; time had passed for that – and for Caitlin was still running out.
Harries cracked a knuckle. ‘Sadistic bastard.’
She nodded, wondered if the original deadline held. In which case, they had two and a half hours to play with. Or Caitlin did.