Authors: Lee Weeks
‘We need anyone with any information about Emily to come forward. We believe she was held somewhere for a number of weeks prior to being murdered and her body disposed of in the
Regent’s Canal. We believe someone must have information about what happened to Emily. She was a gregarious young woman and a devoted mother to her daughter Sky. She disappeared on the fifth
of June in between meeting her friend in Camden and collecting Sky from nursery. Someone somewhere knows what happened to her; if you have any information please ring the number on the
screen.’
Danielle reached for her phone.
Saturday arrived with a warmth to the sunshine.
Great day for it
, thought Tracy as she checked her watch – it was nearly eleven o’clock. She had been inside the park for forty minutes. Where was Danielle? The kids’
park was busy with children dressed as Santa’s helpers and elves and fairies. Girls running around in princess dresses that still filled Tracy with a sense of longing. When she was their age
she would have gone on and on at her mother to make her the best, the most beautiful dress in the world; and she would have got it too. Things were never the same after she got pregnant. Tracy
walked across to a young woman with caramel-coloured dreadlocks, massive freckles over her face and a baby tied onto her back. She was running a stall selling non-alcoholic mulled wine and vegan
mince pies.
‘Excuse me. I wonder if you know Danielle, Jackson’s mum?’
‘Of course.’ The woman was briefly distracted serving mince pies then she came over.
‘Yeah. I know Danielle well.’ She smiled. ‘She should be here by now. We were going to run this stall together. She should have been here two hours ago to help set up.’
The woman poured out a mulled wine for a customer. ‘Must have overslept. I’m surprised Jackson let it happen though, he was so keen. One of my friends is dressing up as Santa and
we’ve all bought our kids a gift for him to hand out. I can’t believe Jackson’s not first in the queue. He was so excited about it yesterday.’
Tracy looked in the direction of Danielle’s estate.
‘Maybe I should go and see if she needs a hand.’
‘Do you know where she lives?’
‘Yes, I know. I’ve been there before. I’m going to go and knock on her door. If I miss her, tell her I’ll come back. My name’s Tracy.’
‘No problem.’ The woman went back to pouring mulled wine.
Tracy crossed over Seven Sisters Road and walked towards the high-rise blocks. A growing feeling of anxiety was making her walk quickly. What if the three men had come back? What if Danielle or
Jackson was hurt? Tracy would never forgive herself. She knew she should have phoned the police. She sprinted up to Danielle’s landing and ran along to the pink door. She could barely
breathe. When she knocked she heard a low growl in response. She knocked louder and waited. This time Scruffy answered with a bark. Tracy bent low and looked through the letterbox. Jackson was
looking back at her.
‘Hello, Jackson, is Mummy there?’ Tracy looked past him. She was relieved to see him safe but was now feeling slightly cross with Danielle for letting everyone down. ‘Danielle?
Danielle, they’re waiting for you at the park.’ She listened and heard nothing.
Scruffy came and tried to lick Tracy through the letterbox, knocking Jackson off his feet.
‘Scruffy, NO! Jackson? Jackson?’ Jackson came back into her vision; his little fingers clasping hers through the open letterbox. ‘Get Mummy for me.’
‘Nanny?’ There was dried blood over his hand. It was ice cold.
‘Are you hurt, Jackson?’ He started to cry.
‘It’s all right. There’s a good boy. Don’t cry. It’ll be all right. Nanny’s here, darling. Where’s Mummy, Jackson?
Danielle?
Is she in bed?
Danielle?
’ She looked past him and called through the letterbox. ‘
Danielle, are you okay
?’ Beyond Jackson she could see an upturned table in the hall, and she
became aware of a long whine coming from the phone receiver, which was off the hook.’ Jackson, is Mummy in the flat somewhere? Is she sleeping?’ She called out again. ‘Go and get
Mummy, Jackson.’ Jackson didn’t move. He held on to Tracy’s fingers. Tracy jammed the letterbox open as wide as it would go with one hand to stop it closing on Jackson’s
fingers. With the other hand she scrabbled in her bag for her phone and managed to call Danielle’s number. She listened. She heard nothing.
Oh God.
She knelt down again and looked at Jackson’s face.
Jackson’s fat little hand was wedged into the letterbox further. She looked at his face. He looked like he’d been crying a long time, thought Tracy. He was still in his pyjamas.
Tracy kept her hand on his as she stood up and looked along the landing to see if anyone could help, but there was no one about.
‘Oh God,’ muttered Tracy. ‘Something’s definitely not right. I should have called the police then and I’m definitely calling them now.’ She started dialling
999 at the same time as Scruffy began non-stop barking.
Robbo was on the way to see Bowie when he passed his old office. The man in charge there now was Griff, a softly spoken police officer who had come over from Organized Crime
six months ago and was still learning the ropes. Robbo had taken him under his wing.
Griff was on the phone as Robbo passed. He was concentrating hard on a call. Robbo lifted his chin in a ‘I won’t disturb you – I’m just passing’ gesture when
Griff’s hand went in the air to beckon him over. Griff finished up the call.
‘What’s the problem?’ asked Robbo.
‘Just got a call about a missing person. Thought you might be interested. It came via the police station next door. One of the officers was called to help break into a flat where a young
mum wasn’t responding and her child was inside alone. When they got inside they found that the mum was missing. There were signs of a struggle. The name came up on the system – Danielle
Foster, a friend of Emily Styles, but she is also one of the people who phoned in after the appeal on Thursday.’
‘Can I listen to her call?’
‘Yes, it’s just been sent to me.’ He turned back to his PC and opened a link. They listened to Danielle’s call.
Hello – thanks for calling our appeal line. Do you have information on Emily Styles?
Yes . . . well I don’t know. I am a friend of hers – was . . . I had no idea. I thought she’d just gone off for a while.
Have you made a statement already?
I did, at the time.
What did you want to add?
It’s just that I was out a couple of nights ago and one of the men who knows Emily was making jokes about what if it was her in the canal and wouldn’t she have
hated getting her hair wet, spoiling her make-up, that kind of thing. It just seems much too big a coincidence to me. These are people I am very close to. Now I’m really
worried.
Okay, Danielle, I understand. Would you like to come into Archway Police Station or if you prefer we can get one of our officers to come around and interview
you?
I don’t want any police coming here. I’ll come in the next day or so and I’ll talk it through.
When you come in, ask for an officer from MIT 17. They are connected to Archway Police Station. I will leave a note and you will be expected. Thank you for your
call.
Griff pressed the stop button
.
‘She didn’t come in, but that’s not to say she wouldn’t have. What do you want to do?’
‘Good work, Griff. I’ll inform Inspector Carter and Willis so they can go round there now and decide whether we need SOCOs. Tell the first responder to stay put until someone gets
there.’
Ebony and Carter arrived to a gathering of onlookers on the landing and people on the stairwell leading up to Danielle’s apartment. An officer was waiting for them.
Carter took him to one side. ‘You the first respon-der?’
‘Yes, Sir. My colleague and I.’ He turned to point out another officer further down the landing who was talking to neighbours.
‘What did it look like when you got here?’
‘We had to break in to gain access but the door was already damaged. It hadn’t been bolted from inside. The little boy was inside on his own with the dog. There’s definitely
some kind of scuffle gone on in there. The lights were all off, curtains drawn. Looks like she’d been gone all night. The little boy was still in his pyjamas. Furniture’s not ransacked
but a few things are knocked about. Enough to indicate she put up a struggle. There are also some blood splatters on the wall in the hallway, Sir.’
Carter looked inside the flat from the doorway. He turned to Ebony.
‘Let’s get Sandford and the SOCO team over.’ Then he turned back to the officer. ‘Make sure no one goes inside until they arrive and take over from you.’ Ebony took
out her phone and called Robbo.
‘Robbo, we need SOCOs.’
‘How’s it looking?’ he asked.
‘She left a small child alone all night possibly and there are signs of a struggle. Beyond that, not sure – too early to tell.’
‘Okay, Sandford’s on his way.’ Ebony hung up. She looked over at the woman struggling to get a little boy into his all-in-one suit and then at the officer still talking to
Carter.
‘Who’s that?’
‘This is Mrs Collins. She made the 999 call. It’s her daughter’s flat.’
‘She’s the boy’s grandmother?’
‘Yes.’
Ebony waited as Tracy finished getting Jackson’s suit on and zipped up.
‘Mrs Collins?’ Tracy nodded. ‘I am Detective Constable Willis and that’s Detective Inspector Carter.’ Ebony nodded towards Carter who was standing at the entrance
to the flat, still in conversation with the officer there. ‘You made the 999 call?’
‘Yes. I think something’s happened to her. I know she wouldn’t leave Jackson on his own. And on Monday, when I babysat for her, three men broke in.’
‘Did they do that?’ Carter pointed to the door.
‘No. Someone else had already done that damage. The men broke the lock. They ransacked the place and frightened the life out of me and Jackson.’
‘Who did Danielle say they were?’
‘Friends of her ex-boyfriend, Jackson’s father. Jackson is so upset – he’s really cold . . .’ Tracy shook her head. ‘I knew I should have called the police
but Danielle wasn’t keen. She didn’t want any trouble, she said.’
‘Trouble from her ex-boyfriend?’
‘No, from the men, whoever they were.’
‘Okay, Mrs Collins. You did the right thing to call us. Do you live near?’
‘Not very. Hornsey. I was coming here today to go to the Christmas fête with them. That’s why is seems odd that she’s not here.’ Ebony nodded. She was looking at
the streak of congealed blood in Jackson’s hair.
‘We’ll need to take you and the boy somewhere while we examine your daughter’s flat.’
‘Can’t I just go in and get some more clothes for Jackson?’ Tracy asked. ‘I only managed to get this suit for him because it was on top of the buggy.’
‘Sorry, Mrs Collins.’ Ebony stopped her. ‘It’s not possible at the moment.’ Tracy took out a tissue from her bag to wipe Jackson’s face. He squirmed from her
as she tried to tidy him up.
‘I wouldn’t worry about that, Mrs Collins. Take him as he is and we’ll arrange things later. We’ll tidy him up when we get him back to yours.’ Ebony was making a
mental note to take Tracy’s fingerprints as she’d obviously been in as far as the hallway. She’d need to send her clothes away for analysis as well.
‘Oh . . . yes.’ She looked a little confused but then looked down at Jackson and smiled reassuringly. ‘But how long before we can go in and get his things? Obviously we
can’t manage without them?’
Ebony shook her head apologetically.
‘Sorry but we’re going to have stay out of the flat while the forensic team look at everything. We’re doing everything we can to find out what’s happened, Mrs Collins.
We’ll give you and your grandson a lift home. I presume you will be looking after him? We’ll take a full statement from you then.’ Tracy blinked at Ebony for a few seconds.
Jackson stood patiently watching Tracy’s face.
‘It will be all right, Jackson. Nanny will look after you till Mummy comes back.’
Ebony whispered to Carter: ‘There’s blood in the boy’s hair.’
Carter glanced across at Jackson. ‘When we get to her place, bring in the forensics kit from the car and take a sample. Shall we go, Mrs Collins?’ He turned to Tracy, who looked like
she was waiting for someone to wake her up from a nightmare.
‘Thanks for your help.’ Carter addressed the half a dozen neighbours who had come out to take part in the drama. ‘Please wait here for a few more minutes while your statements
are taken.’ Carter turned to the two police officers. ‘Then you’re finished here.’
Tracy led Jackson away by the hand and followed Carter past the neighbours and down the stairs.
‘Mrs Collins? The dog?’ one of the officers called out to them as they walked away.
Tracy stopped. ‘What about the dog?’
She was about to say:
I don’t think so
, when she looked at Jackson’s face and realized she had no choice. She turned back to pick up Scruffy’s lead.
‘Of course. Come on, Scruffy.’
As they drove to Tracy’s house, Tracy sat in the back seat with Jackson and Scruffy. She stared out at the traffic and Jackson held on to her hand. It took them forty minutes to get
through the traffic and pull up outside Tracy’s flat; it was the bottom half of a town house in a residential street in Hornsey near a busy main road.
‘Please take your shoes off at the door.’
Tracy turned to them as she unlocked the front door, stepped inside and set Jackson down. She looked exasperated as she watched Scruffy saunter in past her as if he owned the place.
Ebony took off her shoes reluctantly; she had odd socks on and one of the socks was missing a big toe. She looked at Carter’s feet – there were polo ponies galloping across his
socks. Ebony tried to hide her feet with the hem of her trousers. She would put socks onto her Christmas list if she had one.