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I walk over to the table on the far side of the room; her eyes follow. I pick up the equipment.
She starts to babble again. “No, please, please, let me go, please, please.”
She’s distracting, so I break off another piece of tape and head back over. I grip her head and push down, sticking it into place. She breathes heavily through her nose, shaking.
I lay the equipment on a small stainless steel tray and carry it across. Her eyes immediately fix on the one thing I hadn’t yet shown her. It’s a needle. Long, shining. Flawless.
I take it out of the sterile wrapper, holding it carefully, the way I was taught. She wriggles helplessly in her chair, her fingers flexing, pulling, but it’s only making my job easier. Her blood is flowing faster around her body. Fight or flight has kicked in, and her veins stand out on her inner forearm. I place one hand on her arm, holding her still.
I am ready.
I press the needle against her pure smooth skin, and I push.
CHAPTER
25
Day 5
Wednesday
ADAM’S NEVER FELT pressure like it. It’s a squeeze on his skull, a constant contraction in his stomach. He sees Marsh appear in the doorway and take in the bustle, but he doesn’t ask. Adam knows he’ll be back; he’s grateful for the reprieve.
And he knows the question that must be going through Marsh’s mind: Should you be working on this? He’s asked himself that too many times already. He is personally connected. Jamie is his closest mate, Pippa best friend to his ex-wife. But he’s also aware that one of the only things keeping Jamie going is knowing that he is running the case. That he won’t stop until they find her.
Dead or alive.
He stops for a moment and rubs his eyes. He’s been awake for over twenty-four hours now, missing a night’s sleep.
“You okay, Boss?”
“Hmm, what?”
Ellie Quinn stands by his side, waiting for a response. He remembers the state of her last night and sees the ravages of the hangover on her face.
“We have CCTV of what we think is the van—” she says.
Adam doesn’t wait for her to finish, but hurries to her computer and sits down at the screen.
They are overwhelmed with data. They’ve got feed from hundreds of traffic cameras across the city, as well as searches from the DVLA and PNC for all dark-colored VW Transporters. But it seems they’ve come up trumps from the CCTV.
“We started from the residence and worked outward, assuming an abduction time between twenty-two hundred hours, when the victim texted saying she was headed home, and twenty-three thirty, when DS Hoxton returned.” Adam nods, impatient. “And we have this van, headed south.”
Adam watches, his chin cupped in his hand, hardly blinking from the image on the screen. The dark VW van comes into shot, quickly disappearing from right to left.
“Then, again, here, on the A33.”
“And we’re sure this is the same vehicle?”
Quinn points to the screen with a delicate finger. “See here? The driver’s side wing mirror is damaged at the top. No plate, though.”
Adam’s head flicks up. “Nothing?”
“No. We’ve tried multiple angles, but it’s hidden. Dirty, maybe. And we lose it here, after the Clifton Roundabout.”
She looks genuinely distraught. Adam places a reassuring hand on her shoulder. He’s surprised but pleased at how quickly she’s got up to speed, learning the workings of the Major Crime team fast. “This is good, Quinn,” he says. “Keep going.”
He gets up from the desk and walks across to the whiteboard. It has a line of numbers across the top, beginning with number sixteen, the names attached to each victim below.
