Dead of Winter Tr (29 page)

‘Can I have the address of the boy he was with please?’ asked Carter

‘Aaron? Yes of course.’

After they’d gone Helen Tapp counted the chimes as she pulled the cork from the wine: one, two, three, four, five chimes from the antique French clock in the hallway that
she was beginning to wish they’d never had restored. It got on her nerves. It marked the passing of time in a way that she couldn’t ignore.

She poured herself a large glass of red wine and gulped half of it down. Red in winter, white in summer, vodka when she didn’t care what season it was and she didn’t want people to
see what she was drinking. Housewives all over the land did the same as her, that was a fact, she told herself.

Alfie was getting fractious. He was just beginning to do without his afternoon nap and it was now the tricky time of day, keeping him awake long enough to get past tea, bath, story and then bed.
Tonight she would limit herself to one glass before he went to sleep. It didn’t help her cope with him. It made it a chore. Made her snappy, made her face rubbery and ugly. Made her want to
scream at the injustice she felt inside and made her miss Alex more than she could bear. She looked at her reflection in the kitchen window. Outside was darkness. All she could see was blackness
and the reflection of her face, her hands holding a glass. She had never felt so lonely.

The phone rang and she slammed her glass on the table, chipping its base as she rushed to answer it. She picked it up and listened, there was the pause that meant it was a salesperson or a
recorded message asking her if she’d been ripped off by the banks. Who hadn’t?

‘Mrs Tapp? Can we use your house as a show-home for our double glazing?’

She put the phone down and looked down the hall at Alfie, who had fallen asleep sitting up, propped against a bean bag where she’d left him playing with the Duplo. Bugger . . . he’d
take ages to get to sleep that evening now. She walked over and picked him up – he was flush-faced and heavy in her arms, completely asleep. She carried him upstairs and ran a bath as she sat
on the edge and swished her hand in the water. She held onto him and started to cry; noisy agonizing wrenches that came from her core and hung harsh and jagged in the air . . .

‘I’ll take him.’ Her husband stood in the doorway looking at her with disgust and contempt on his face . . . ‘Give him to me.’ She didn’t seem to hear him.
‘Give . . . him . . . to . . . me.’ He hated her when she was drunk like this. Fucking drunk at five o’clock . . . her mouth was red-stained from it, her eyes swollen, her face
blotchy, ugly, drunk .
. . Christ, she looked a mess.

‘You’re home early . . .’ She heard the words join up and flinched. She tried a smile but then she turned her face from him as he took Alfie from her arms. She stared into the
bath, swishing her hand until the water got scalding hot and she withdrew it fast.

‘What the fuck are you trying to do, scald him to death? Fuck, Helen . . . you need to get a grip. Anyone could knock on the door. What if the police come back and want to talk to you?
What are you going to say? I was celebrating? I felt like getting drunk? They’re going to think not only has she lost one son, she looks like she doesn’t know how to care for the
other.’

She stood and confronted him, her eyes burning, her body trembling.

‘Don’t ever talk to me like that. It wasn’t my fault.’

He shook his head, his eyes despising, his voice sarcastic. ‘Well it sure as hell wasn’t mine. And you have no idea about his life because you’re always pissed by six
o’clock. While I’m out working to keep this family afloat. You didn’t know what he was doing on that PC; you didn’t care, as long as you had enough booze to keep you going.
Well I’m stopping it now. The gravy train stops here. You’re nothing but a fucking housewife and no fucking good at that. This house is a mess, Alfie is asleep at five o’ fucking
clock and you’re pissed.’

She stood and followed him out of the bathroom and down the stairs. ‘Please . . . please . . . don’t do this to me . . . to us . . . don’t shut me out like this. We need each
other now. I’ve only had one glass, I promise. Alfie fell asleep. You know he does it sometimes. I took my eye off him for a few minutes and he fell asleep while he was playing with his toys.
Please . . . I’m doing my best. No more drink for me tonight. I’ll cut right down. It’s just that I’m so lonely, just me and Alfie here all day, and I miss Alex so much. I
miss making dinner for him. I miss hearing him talk about his day, getting his kit ready for sports, hearing him switch the telly on in the other room and . . . I miss him so badly.’

Alfie was waking up, wiping his snotty nose in Michael’s suit jacket.

‘Here . . .’ He gave him to her . . . ‘I have to go out. I’ll be working late. Someone has to keep food on the table, wine in the fucking fridge. Try not to get too
pissed. Don’t wait up.’

‘Mike?’ She called after him. ‘They need you to do a DNA test. They found a bit of Alex’s Arsenal shirt. Mike?’

The front door slammed shut.

Back at Fletcher House Ebony and Carter joined Robbo at his desk to take a look at the CCTV footage of the surrounding streets leading to the Arsenal stadium.

‘I’ve been looking for all sightings of Alex Tapp on CCTV in the area.’

‘This is Alex leaving the stadium at half time. He’s wearing his Arsenal shirt. Here he’s looking around.’

‘Is he looking for someone?’ asked Carter. ‘What’s he got in his hands? Looks like a book.’

‘Bigger,’ said Ebony. ‘A laptop, or tablet maybe.’

‘Yes,’ agreed Robbo. ‘He’s carrying it as if it’s important to him, precious. Was there any mention of him having disappeared with his laptop?’ He turned to
ask Carter who shook his head in reply. ‘Here, he crosses the road past the Tesco’s on the corner, then he keeps walking. He seems to know where to go.’

‘He’s headed back towards the Underground station,’ said Carter.

‘Ah. You think so, and then he doubles back. Here.’ Robbo double-clicked on another film at the bottom of the screen. ‘We pick him up again walking on the pavement opposite
Tesco’s, as if someone has told him to double-back and throw us off the scent. Here he walks up towards Highbury Hill. Then we lose him again until . . . this.’ Robbo clicked on another
film. ‘This was taken off St Paul’s Road down towards Highbury Corner, that’s about a fifteen-minute walk from the stadium.’ The squeeze around Robbo’s PC became even
tighter as everyone moved closer to get a better look at the grainy image on the screen.

‘He’s with a woman,’ said Carter. He looked at the screen as Alex turned to look up at the woman. ‘How tall is Alex, Ebb, do we know?’

‘Five five, Sarge.’

‘So the woman is what, five nine? She looks a good few inches taller than him.’

‘She could have heels, Sarge; she could be anything from about five four.’

‘Long dark hair, probably a wig,’ said Carter. ‘You can see how she’s keeping her head down while she’s talking to Alex. She knows she might be on camera. What do
we think about Alex? Ebb?’

‘He looks nervous, Sarge. He keeps looking over his shoulder. He’s having second thoughts maybe.’

‘Now her arm goes around him,’ said Carter.

‘Maternal,’ said Robbo.

‘Agreed,’ said Carter. ‘She’s not promised him sex obviously. She’s not coming on to him. She’s promised him something else . . . love, friendship, something
he’s been missing. Something he wants so badly he’s prepared to walk out on his friend in the middle of his team’s match on his birthday. Whatever it is she’s promised
it’s worth the world to him.’

‘There . . .’ said Ebony. ‘He’s turning again. Looking behind.’

‘But he knows he could easily run from her.’ Robbo stared at the screen. He enlarged it. ‘He passes a policeman there. He could easily say something but he doesn’t. She
leaves her arm around him and he looks up and smiles at her. He seems to be finally sure of what he’s doing at this point.

‘We lose him for a bit after they turn down the next street. But after a few more minutes . . . look at this.’ Robbo moved onto another clip where a van door was opening and Alex was
getting into the passenger seat. ‘Bingo.’

‘Shit . . .’ Carter shook his head.

‘Yeah, we have a match to the plates, but they don’t belong to that vehicle. They were stolen a week before Alex’s abduction. Nothing’s been seen of them since that
day,’ said Robbo

‘Who is she?’ Carter enlarged the picture of the woman for a better look.

‘Sandford says it’s a definite result matching the hair sample from Blackdown Barn and Sonny’s flat. Same woman, definitely.’

‘Maybe this is her?’ Carter picked up his keys and his coat and looked across at Ebony.

‘Let’s go, Ebb. I want to see what Sandford’s found.’

Carter showed his warrant card. ‘Sorry, sir . . . you can’t go down there.’ A police officer stopped their car as Ebony and Carter turned off the main road
and tried to head up the lane leading to Blackdown Barn. They were at a roadblock. ‘We have heavy machinery coming back and forth; this is the only access.’

‘No problem. We’ll park on the main road and walk up.’ Carter reversed back onto the road and parked up as close to the hedge as he could get. It was three in the
afternoon.

As they walked up towards the house they heard the rumble of machinery and the muted rat-a-tat of a jack-hammer breaking up concrete. An officer watched them approach. Carter recognized him.
‘Alright, Jacko? How long have you been here?’ Carter asked as they drew level.

‘Since five this morning, Sarge. Just another couple of hours.’

‘Bet you’ll be glad . . . chills to the fucking bones, this cold. Anything happen today?’

‘Thermal imaging and dogs, Sarge.’

‘Find anything?’

‘Not yet.’

‘They gone?’

‘Yes, Sarge.’

‘Thank Christ for that; can’t stand those handlers.’ He grinned. ‘You want a cup of tea?’

‘Please . . . two sugars.’

They found Sandford inside the house. He had a sample bag with the contents of a drain in it. He held up the mash of scum and hair.

‘From the drain in the shower at the far end. My guess is it is more of the same . . . the woman from Sonny’s. Her hair is everywhere.’ Carter took the bag from him and then
passed it to Ebony. ‘She’s blonde and losing a lot of hair.’

‘How far have they got with the digging?’ There was a welcome lull in the noise of digging coming from below them.

‘They’re concentrating on the house, starting on the garden in a couple of days; then the surrounding countryside.’

‘Can we take another look around?’ Carter had to shout over the noise of the jackhammer downstairs again.

‘Be my guest.’

They walked into the kitchen. Carter started opening up the cupboards.

‘Fascinating what people have in their kitchens, don’t you think, Ebb? You like cooking?’

‘Not really, Sarge.’ Ebony opened the fridge door and the smell of bleach bounced off the shelves. ‘Maybe it’s the pregnant woman who liked to cook.’

‘Trust me, pregnant women like to eat but they don’t like to cook. Cabrina gets nauseous at so many things. She might eat a family-size pizza but she sure as hell wouldn’t want
to cook it. So maybe that’s his first mistake, Ebb: he’s left behind a little bit of his personality in this cupboard . . . If it was my cupboard it would be filled with Italian
seasoning: basil, parsley, oregano. You know, Ebb, she’s still not talking to me.’ Ebb straightened up from peering under a wall unit and looked at him. She didn’t know what to
say. He didn’t expect an answer. He talked as he searched through the rest of the cupboards.

‘The thing is, we’ve been together for five years. We get on really well. Of course when she got pregnant . . . it was a shock. You know, I didn’t know whether I was pleased or
not . . . but I tried to be. I couldn’t help thinking . . .
no more holidays, no more long lie-ins. The place will stink of nappies and Cabrina will be tired and get fat like her
mum.
’ He looked up to see Ebb flash him an accusing look. ‘Yeah . . . yeah . . . shallow, I know. But I’m being truthful with you, Ebb; mate to mate. I wouldn’t say that
out loud to Cabrina.’ Carter opened a large walk-in larder. He carried on talking as he disappeared from view. ‘Was a shock . . . I guess. But I went along with it. We started to plan,
think how it would work.’ He emerged from the larder and waited to catch her eye. ‘It was when she said we’d never get a buggy up the stairs to the flat and we’d have to
move a bit further out to get a good school that I think I must have shown it on my face.’ Carter stopped to see if the extractor above the cooker worked. It did. ‘Whatever it was, I
didn’t handle it well. She didn’t give me chance to think about it, adjust. I came back from work and she’d gone. No contact for a week. It’s doing my head in. Now
she’s staying with her parents and they got plenty of room for the baby
and
the buggy. Now I feel like I have no idea what I can do to say: yeah . . . I’m scared but I’ll
give it a go. Because . . . to be honest with you, Ebb . . . people keep saying
bide your time
or
get on with your life . .
. but . . . the more I do that, the more I feel her slip
away and yep . . . to be honest with you . . . it’s a tough call seeing the future without Cabrina in it.’

‘And the baby?’

‘Yes . . . one hundred per cent, Ebb . . . and the baby. Cabrina is the baby to me . . . Whatever Cabrina wants is all that matters to me. I’m just like every other bloke. I
can’t decide when it’s time to settle down; I need a woman to decide that for me. So . . . I surrender . . . I accept and then she’s like . . . fuck you . . . too late.’

‘Give her time, Sarge . . .’

Carter sighed, nodded. ‘Okay, let’s leave it to Sandford; he’ll have this place dismantled. If there’s anything left in here he’ll find it. I want to have another
look out the back.’

The digger was standing idle. It was a sharp and clear sky above, but no longer bright blue – it was slipping into a cold dusk. All the patio slabs were up, neatly stacked at the far side
of the garden. Carter called out to one of the men drinking tea, ‘Officer on the gate: two sugars.’ He got a nod by way of reply. ‘Ebb?’ Ebony was staring at the machinery.
The digger was like one she’d made from a kit once, free in a packet of cornflakes; it had spokes on the wheels and the wheels actually turned. ‘Ebb . . . you ready?’