She had to know for certain.
If there really was someone out there who had taken at least two girls, and might even have another one in their sights, then Izzy had to be sure it wasn’t Kenneth Plumley. There was only one way to accomplish that.
Friday in the bookshop dragged. Business was brisk with people stocking up on their reading for the weekend, but it still dragged. Izzy’s mind was filled with the enormity of her mission ahead, and she just needed to get it over and done with, despite all the ifs and buts. What if it all went wrong? What if it became dangerous, violent even? What would Andy say if she knew of her plans?
Well, that’s an easy one, she thought. Andy would tell me not to be so fucking stupid, and to leave things like this to the professionals.
But she’d seen a professional. She’d seen Josh Frendy. And he was nowhere with the case. He was desperate for help. If she was capable of providing that help, then there was no choice.
Melissa dashed away at the first stroke of five o’clock. Izzy hurriedly sorted out the takings before locking up and running for her car. She worried that she might already be too late, which would mean that she couldn’t try again until Monday. A lot could happen in that time.
The traffic was hectic at peak hour on a Friday. Izzy kept glancing at the dashboard clock of her Fiat 500, making the mental 102adjustments required to work out the correct time, since the clock was always way off.
It’s Friday, she thought. He’ll have gone home. Nobody hangs around on a Friday.
But then she arrived at the school and saw that the gates were still open, a van was parked on the grounds, and a light was on in the workshops. She breathed a sigh of relief, then almost choked on it when she realised that her mission could no longer be postponed. It had already begun.
She reversed the car back along the road and pulled in some distance behind a Vauxhall. Then she waited.
Twenty minutes later there was activity. Through the school railings she saw Kenneth get into his van and drive it out of the gates. She started up her own engine and put the car into gear, but then saw that the van had stopped on the road and Kenneth was getting out again and walking in her direction.
She felt a flutter of panic. Had he seen her? Was he coming to challenge her?
Of course. The gates.
Kenneth wrapped a chain around the gates and snapped a padlock in place, then got back in his van and drove off. Izzy set off after him.
She maintained as much distance as she could between them. When Kenneth approached a junction, she slowed down too, accelerating after the turn to get him in her sights again. At one point, a boy racer jumped into the gap ahead of her, and she had to slam on her brakes. She was tempted to sound her horn, but was afraid of drawing Kenneth’s attention to what was behind him.
Izzy found the pursuit strangely exhilarating. She had never done anything like this before. Nothing remotely clandestine. She wasn’t one of life’s risk takers. Didn’t do bungee jumps or roller coasters or surfboarding. She was someone who could find the 103jeopardy in a Disney animation too much to bear. But this was a thrill. This felt edgy.
And then the surrounding buildings thinned, and the roads became less well-lit and more deserted, and she started to wonder about the wisdom of the enterprise.
What if he knows? What if he’s already seen me following and he’s leading me into a trap? A cul-de-sac or something that he’ll block off, and then he’ll come at me with a wrench or whatever else he keeps in the back of that van. What will I do if that happens?
She shook her head. Didn’t pay to think like that. It would be fine.
The narrow road she was on now didn’t look fine. It looked downright spooky. Tall dark trees loomed over her on either side, as if they were watching and debating whether to pounce and drag her in with their long scratchy fingers. She’d never be found again if she ended up in there.
Focus, she told herself.
She stared at the tail lights of the van ahead of her in the distance and wondered how long this journey would take. She glanced at the petrol gauge, saw that she was low on fuel. Great. Nothing like the prospect of breaking down in the middle of nowhere for keeping the spirits up.
The van’s brake lights flared and it took a left turn. Izzy did likewise and found herself on another country lane, quieter than the one she had just left. About a mile further along, she saw that the van was slowing and indicating as it drew level with a brightly lit pub.
Friday night, she thought. He’s popping in for a pint. That’s my plans scuppered.
But as the van turned, she saw that it wasn’t entering the car park but heading up yet another lane just beyond the pub.104
Got to be close to home now, she thought. What other reasons could there be for going that way?
She continued the pursuit, stretching the distance between them to avoid arousing suspicion. This road was practically deserted, with just the occasional cluster of cottages. Ahead, the van braked again. Kenneth didn’t indicate, but performed a left turn anyway.
That must be where he lives, she thought.
She slowed the Fiat to a crawl while she debated her next move. She had wanted to know more about Kenneth, and discovering his home address had seemed a sensible first step in that direction, but she hadn’t planned much beyond that.
I could knock on his door, she thought. I could pretend that my car’s broken down and the battery in my phone is dead, and could I please use his telephone to ring for help? And then I could say, ‘Don’t I know you from somewhere? It’s Mr Plumley, isn’t it? It’s me! Izzy, from school! What a coincidence!’ And then he’d invite me in for a cup of tea and the use of his phone, and while I’m there I could snoop around and find a roomful of missing girls and I could save them all.
Sure, that’d work.
She jumped at the blare of a horn from behind her. A Range Rover overtook and was gone within seconds. Izzy pulled the Fiat onto the grass verge while she considered her options.
She had no options.
Best she could do for the moment was take a look at the house, see if she could learn anything from that.
She killed the engine, then got out and locked up the car. She didn’t want to run the risk of taking it any closer in case it aroused suspicion. She pulled her collar up around her face and crammed a bobble hat on her head, because that’s what spies do when they want to be inconspicuous.105
She started walking down the verge. On either side, hedgerows separated the road from fields. She could see the lights of traffic in the distance. This was a very quiet spot. An ideal place to imprison teenage girls. Ideal to imprison her too, if this went tits-up. That was a comforting thought, especially as she hadn’t told anyone she was coming here.
A wall came into view, fronting a property. She thought it must have been about here where Kenneth had turned in, but she wasn’t sure. She walked on a bit further. It was a cottage, but with no lights in the windows and no other signs of life.
And there was a bigger problem. No van.
Izzy walked out into the middle of the road to get a better view of what lay ahead. It looked as though there was a dirt track on the far side of the next field, and then another house, bigger than this one.
Could Kenneth have driven that far? She didn’t think so. She was convinced he had come off the road here.
Only one way to find out.
She went to the open gates. A driveway ran along the side of the house. The van could have gone up there and around the back of the property.
She started up the driveway. She’d decided that if she was spotted, she would politely ask if this was Howards End or The House at Pooh Corner or some such, and then apologise for getting the wrong address, hoping that Kenneth wouldn’t recognise her in the darkness and after all these years and wearing her spy disguise.
She reached the cottage. Close up, she could see how neglected it was: paint peeling from the doors and windows; a doorbell hanging from a wire. Perhaps she’d been mistaken about where the van had gone. Plummers was a handyman. Would he allow his own home to get in a state like this?
She looked along the side of the house. There were no gates 106barring her progress. Keep going or not? Perhaps just a little further, a quick peek.
She pressed on, along the side of the building. When she reached the back corner, she popped her head around it.
A white van, parked on a patch of gravel.
It was what she needed to know, but that would have to be it as far as intelligence gathering went for today. She turned to retrace her steps.
Lights came on at the front of the house. She heard loud voices. Her escape route was cut off, along with any means for talking her way out of this. Saying she was at the wrong address was one thing, but how the hell was she going to account for being in the back garden?
She looked around and saw a large wooden shed. She ran towards it. Somewhere behind her a dog started barking, and she thought, They’ve seen me, they’ve set the dog on me, I’m dead.
She hid behind the shed, then risked a peek around it. She could see into a kitchen at the rear of the house. A gigantic dog with gigantic fangs was standing at the French doors, staring back at her and voicing its desire to sink said fangs into a juicy calf muscle. A man – not Kenneth – appeared behind the dog, said something to it and dragged it away.
The voices were still debating on the driveway.
‘I can’t see it,’ the male said. Izzy was sure that this one was Plummers.
‘Stand here. You can see better from here. Shine the torch up.’ A female voice. Foreign accent. Polish, maybe? Russian? Damn, this was getting more and more like a spy film.
‘Okay,’ Kenneth said. ‘I see it now.’
‘It is very dangerous, Kenneth. You must fix it.’
‘It’s not dangerous. The guttering’s moved a bit, that’s all.’107
‘That’s not just a bit, Kenneth. It is nearly falling. Today a piece came off and nearly broke my head. Wait. I will show you.’
A pause, and then the slamming of the lid on a wheelie bin.
‘See?’ the woman said. ‘It is metal. Heavy. It nearly killed me.’
‘It’s an iron bracket. It must have rusted through.’
‘And the gutter, it is also metal, yes? So if it falls on us, we will be dead.’
‘All right. I’ll fix it.’
‘Tomorrow, Kenneth. You always want to wait, but this cannot wait. You must do it tomorrow.’
‘Fine. I’ll go to Raynor’s first thing in the morning and get a new bracket. Can we go back inside now? I need something to eat.’
‘Yes. We can eat. What are you going to make?’
The voices faded. A door closed. The front of the house was plunged into darkness again. Any second now, the kitchen could be filled with people, and perhaps also the dog, and the dog would start barking again and they would all come out to find a strange young woman cowering behind their shed.
Izzy seized the opportunity and ran.
She ran back along the driveway, fully expecting to hear shouts and barking and snapping at her heels but getting none of that, and then hurtled through the gateway and along the lane, not stopping until she reached the little white bubble of protection that was her car. And it was only after she was safely ensconced inside and she finally got her breath back that she allowed a broad smile of satisfaction to break out.
Way to go, she thought. Mission Impossible accomplished. Tom Cruise, eat your heart out.
She now knew exactly where Kenneth Plumley lived, who he lived with, what the layout of his house and garden were like, and the registration number of his van.108
But on top of all that, her next move had been handed to her on a silver platter.
She now had an early-morning appointment with Kenneth Plumley at Raynor’s Hardware Store.