Trafficked, page 24
‘Are you okay catching a lift back with these two?’ Cavendish asks Jack, as she saunters over. ‘You can leave your car parked at mine today, and collect it later if you like?’
Jack’s cheeks redden instantly. ‘Um… Yeah, sure. I mean… I’m sure I can catch a lift back with Rachel and uh… um… Emma.’
Wow! So not only is his car already at her place, but he can’t even remember my name. I wish the ground would just open up and swallow me whole.
‘If you need a place to crash again tonight, just let me know,’ she continues, as if Rachel and I aren’t huddled nearby. ‘I had fun; it was good catching up.’
If Jack’s cheeks darken any more I think his head may explode. ‘Sure, I’ll give you a call later, if that’s okay?’
‘You know it is; I’ll probably be up to my eyes all day, but tonight… well, we could debrief over a glass of wine… or something else.’
I’m trying to force the image of the two of them from my mind, but I am suddenly queasy again.
‘Sounds like a plan. Hey, would you mind sending me over what you have on Jasper Derwent? Maybe the three of us can look for any links to our other project.’
She takes a step forward and plants a wet kiss on his cheek. ‘I already have. Call me later if you want to discuss anything.’
With that, she turns and leaves, and I don’t know which of us will die of embarrassment sooner: Jack or me.
None of us speak again until we’re back in Rachel’s car. I’m in the front with Rachel, as I can’t bear to look at Jack. I know there is nothing between us that should stop him pursuing a night of no-strings sex with an old acquaintance, but it wasn’t that long ago he told me he’d like to see how things could develop between us. Whilst I told him nothing could happen while we were working together, that didn’t mean I didn’t secretly hope things might blossom further down the line. Right now though, he’s revealed himself to be like any other man: led by his genitals.
‘Do you want to hear the skinny on Jasper Derwent?’ he calls from the back, avoiding the elephant in the car.
‘Are you all right?’ Rachel whispers to me.
I nod without meeting her gaze.
‘Jasper Derwent is sixty-eight years old, and has a string of offences with minors to his name, but nothing since the early nineties,’ Jack reads from his tablet in the back of the car. ‘He was released from prison for offences related to images discovered in his home – pictures and videos; this was pre computers being a general home gadget – but as the Sex Offenders Register didn’t come into operation until 1997, he’s not on it. Arrested a couple of times, but no charges brought against him, later in that decade, but then nothing since 1999. According to this he undertook rehabilitation courses both inside and upon release from prison.’
‘Can I see what he looks like?’ Rachel asks, and Jack duly obliges by passing his tablet forward to me. I hold it out so that both Rachel and I can look, but Jasper Derwent isn’t what I was expecting. Maybe it’s the lingering image of Arthur Turgood, but I always expect monsters like this to eek sleaze, but the face in the mugshot looks more like an estate agent or second-hand car salesman than the sort of person who sits in darkened rooms getting his kicks to child abuse.
I know I need to be more open-minded and that there isn’t a stereotypical paedophile look – after all, Turgood’s accomplices weren’t as old as him, and both had wives and children of their own – but I just didn’t expect Jasper Derwent to look so normal. In the picture, his head is a mop of chestnut curls, a long forehead, and strawberry-blond eyebrows. His chin is so clean-shaven, I can imagine he’d be the sort of man who would struggle to grow much facial hair.
I pass the tablet back to Jack.
‘It’s interesting that his record goes quiet post 2002 when Aurélie was snatched and held in captivity, so the timeline fits. Even if he wasn’t the one holding Aurélie, the presence of his DNA in multiple places inside that cabin will take some explaining. His name hasn’t come up in any of the cases we’ve looked at thus far, but it will be good to see whether any of his known associates cross-match with other names that have come up in our enquiry. I might need to head back to London to pursue this, though. If you want to hang around in Dorset for a few days more, I’m sure we can keep in touch via video call or telephone.’
I don’t answer at first, my mind filling with imagined images of my elder sister trying to entice other potential victims from their parents, and I have to clamp my eyes shut to try and block them out.
‘Emma? I said I might head back to London tonight to follow up on Derwent’s connection to our enquiry. Is that okay?’
‘Sure,’ I reply, keeping my eyes closed.
‘Oh, and that reminds me, some other news which is neither good nor bad: I received a call this morning from DCS Rawani, to advise Arthur Turgood passed away yesterday morning.’
My eyes snap open, and I turn to stare at Jack, astonished that this is the first I’m hearing of it. ‘Wait, what? Turgood died?’
Jack nods. ‘That’s what Rawani said; peacefully in his sleep, which doesn’t feel right, but I suppose it just means there’s one less monster in the world. I know I shouldn’t be so judgemental, but a part of me wanted to see him serve his sentence fully and then keel over the day of his release, knowing that he’d served time for his actions.’
My mind is racing with thoughts: with Turgood gone, so is our best chance of finding out how he obtained that video of Anna; but the key thought in my head is Freddie Mitchell.
‘Someone needs to tell Freddie, Mike and Steve. They deserve to know their abuser is gone.’
‘It’s possible they already do know; under the Victim Contact Scheme, and given the circumstances, it would only be natural for them to have been informed of his passing.’
I turn back and rifle through my handbag for my phone. It’s still on airplane mode so that the recording of the interview wouldn’t be disturbed, but as soon as it connects to my network, I see I have missed three calls from Freddie, and that he’s left me a voicemail. My heart sinks. I should have been there for him; if Jack had mentioned Turgood’s passing sooner, I’d have been straight on the phone with Freddie.
Dialling the messaging service, I gasp as I hear Freddie close to tears.
‘Hey… I’ve tried to call you a few times, but I guess you’re busy living that celebrity lifestyle of yours… Anyway, I thought you should know that bastard Turgood is gone… so we can all move on with our lives once and for all… I want you to know, I’m okay, and that… I will be okay… When we last spoke you wanted to know about where they took us those times… I lied when I said I couldn’t remember… I found it, Emma; I found it! And it only seems fitting that a place of such horror should go up in smoke the day that bastard reaches Hell… If you want to come and watch the pyrotechnics, look for Pendark Studios near Newbury.’
‘What’s going on?’ Rachel asks, pulling into a layby. ‘You look like you’re going to be sick again.’
‘I think Freddie may have done something stupid. We need to get to Newbury ASAP.’
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Then
New Forest, Hampshire
With her dad, the detective and the others now gone, Aurélie remained cocooned in her room, under the guise of resting, when actually she still had hold of her dad’s mobile phone, and had now sent a text message to the mobile number she had memorised five days ago. It was her only means of getting hold of Jasper, and although he’d told her not to message before a week had passed, there was no way he could know that their timeline had been hurried by the discovery of his DNA at the cabin. She’d been deliberately vague about how far she’d travelled to the hospital that day, and had done her best to throw the detective off the scent, but then that writer and her friend had stumbled across it. What were the chances!
They shouldn’t have found the cabin initially until tomorrow, at which point the next phase of his plan would already be in place. He’d said to only message in an emergency, but the fact that his picture and name would now be on the lips of every law enforcement officer in the county was more than just a hurdle in the road; she had to warn him; he had to know.
Pacing the small room, her eyes darting to the phone’s display on the bed every few seconds, she was beginning to question whether she’d made a mistake with the number. There had been four threes and two fives, or had that been three fours and five twos? Suddenly the string of numbers she’d pictured in her mind’s eye were dancing about, and no longer in a discernible order.
Aurélie started at a knock at the door, followed by it opening a fraction, and her mother’s tired face appearing in the crack. ‘Would you like some tea?’
Aurélie looked back at the phone as the display lit up, and quickly hurried to the door. ‘Non, merci. I am too tired for tea.’
Forcing the door closed once more, she hurried to the bed, scooping up the phone, and reading the message from the number she’d written to:
I miss you too, and thanks for the warning. You don’t need to worry, as they won’t find me in time. You have been so brave, but you need to hold on a little longer. When the time is right, I will be in touch.
Her face crumpled. She’d wanted to read that he was calling to her; if he’d missed her, why didn’t he want to see her as much as she him? Had he misunderstood her message? It was a cry for help, but maybe she hadn’t been obvious enough. At least she’d got the number right. There was no harm in sending him a second message, as she would delete all trace of the conversation before she returned the phone to her father.
I need to see you; I don’t care about the plan anymore. I just want to be with you NOW. Please? Tell me where you are and I will come.
It was a little stronger than she’d originally intended, but she didn’t want there to be any room for doubt or misinterpretation. She needed to see him one more time. The phone’s display lit up again almost immediately.
Canford Cliffs Pirate Ship Play Park. Come alone.
She had no idea where the park was, but an internet search on her father’s phone confirmed the address. It wasn’t walkable from the hotel, so she would have to have the concierge call for a taxi for her.
Dressing quickly, she pocketed the phone in the denim shorts her mother had bought at the hospital, along with the cotton T-shirt with ‘Badass’ across the middle. Both items hung from her tiny frame, but they were the closest-fitting items they’d found in the hospital shop’s limited range. Solange had promised they’d go shopping for a new wardrobe as soon as they were back in Paris, but Aurélie longed for the safety and comfort of the dresses he’d made for her.
Solange was perched near the door when Aurélie dragged it open, and looked embarrassed to have been caught listening at the keyhole.
‘I dropped a contact lens,’ she claimed, but Aurélie didn’t have the time or patience to argue.
‘I’m going for a walk. I need fresh air.’
‘I can come with you if you like? Just give me a few minutes to dress and do my makeup, and I—’
‘I want to be alone,’ Aurélie said, cutting her off.
Solange frowned, the botox struggling to keep the lines in order. ‘Where will you go?’
‘Only around the hotel’s grounds. There’s a garden, I think. I won’t be long.’
Solange nodded distantly, buying the lie, and stepping aside to allow her daughter to leave through the door. Aurélie was convinced that her mother would have a change of heart and hurry after her, and was relieved to make it down the large, elaborate staircase to the lobby without interruption. Of course that didn’t mean that Solange wouldn’t be hurriedly dressing and following her shortly, so Aurélie would have to be quick.
An older couple were checking out at the reception desk, their suitcases standing on a tall trolley as they made small talk with the receptionist. There was no sign of any other staff she could ask to telephone for a taxi for her, but as her eyes settled on the hotel’s entrance, she spotted a yellow taxi parked up, probably waiting for these two, who were in no hurry to actually depart. Taking her chance, Aurélie bowed her head, hurried out of the door and hopped into the back of the taxi.
The taxi driver stared back at her confused. ‘Baker? I thought there were supposed to be two of you?’
‘My husband will follow later. Please, let’s be on the way.’
The driver started the engine. ‘Bournemouth airport, isn’t it? Where are your bags?’
‘My husband is taking care of that, and no, I need to make a detour first.’ She paused, showing him the address on the phone. ‘Can you take me here first, and then onto the airport after? I need to collect something from a friend.’
The driver took a cautious look out of his window at the hotel, and not seeing any other passengers emerging, reluctantly put the car into first and pulled away, the gravel crackling beneath the tyres as they pulled away. It was only when they were back on the main road that Aurélie dared to breathe a sigh of relief.
A short walk from the beach, the Canford Cliffs Pirate Ship Play Park was exactly as Aurélie had imagined it would be: a climbing frame in the shape of a ship-wreck, swings, a sand pit and picnic tables in the shape of a skull and crossbones. Asking the taxi driver to wait at the kerbside, she promised him a big tip upon their arrival at the airport, leaving her father’s phone with him as collateral. The fact that her pockets were now empty didn’t cross her mind as she raced into the park, scanning the benches for any sign of Jasper.
The playground was far busier than she’d anticipated with children tearing around, screaming and laughing, bumping into one another, to the point where the entire space seemed to blur, and Aurélie could feel her knees weakening.
And that’s when he caught her. ‘Come, I’m sitting over there,’ he said, his voice sounding odd without the usual echo, and hoarser than she remembered.
She buried herself in his embrace as he led her over to a small upturned log, barely long enough for them to perch together, and dangerously close to a wasp-swarming dustbin. And for the briefest moment, the rest of the world melted away, like someone had poured a bottle of water over a painting, colours merging and losing focus.
‘Were you followed?’ he asked, keeping his arm around her shoulders.
She shook her head, but kept it pressed into his neck. ‘We don’t have much time. The police are looking for you. I have a taxi waiting to take us to the airport, and—’
He peeled her off him, studying her face for any sign she was joking. ‘The airport? No, that wasn’t the plan.’
‘I know,’ she urged, placing her hand on his unshaven cheek, ‘but we don’t have a choice now. You and I, we can leave all of this behind, and just go. We can go to the airport, or catch a boat, or just drive far away from here. Please? It is too hard to do this without you.’
He reached for her hand and gently lowered it from his face, keeping his grip firm but tender. ‘You’re being irrational. We can’t go to the airport; that’s the first place they’d look for me, and I’ll bet you don’t have a new passport yet either.’
‘No, but maybe we could bribe someone to help us,’ she pleaded, determined not to let him go.
‘It doesn’t work like that, my sweet. Besides, I’m in no state to be leaving the country. I’m sick, and I don’t know how much longer I have.’
The words she’d been dreading. ‘So let’s just drive somewhere; somewhere where nobody knows who we are. We could head north like we did once before. You have friends all over who could put us up for a few weeks…’
Couldn’t he see the desperation in her eyes? So many times he’d questioned whether she really loved him, despite her telling him over and over, and now here she was declaring her undying love, and still he refused to believe. What more would it take?
‘There’s something you need to see,’ he continued, his gaze drifting into the playground before them. ‘I managed to track her down; there, look, that’s our daughter.’
Aurélie didn’t move, certain she’d misheard the words, and searching his body language for confirmation. Finally, she relented, and gradually allowed her neck to twist and her eyes to look where he was indicating.
‘In the purple dress with her hair plaited,’ he said. ‘She’s the spitting image of you at that age.’
The little girl threw her arms up in the air as she glided down the slide, landing in a heap at the bottom, before promptly standing and hurrying back to the ladder to repeat the experience. It was as if all time froze in that moment, as Aurélie came face to face with the child she’d never wanted, couldn’t care for and yet now desperately wanted to scoop up and smother in affection. She couldn’t see the resemblance, but then could any parent really see themselves in their child?
It felt like a dream, and if it was, then it was a dream Aurélie never wanted to wake from. Her mind whirred, trying to recall how she’d got here, looking for signs that this was all a mirage created by her imagination, but at the same time not caring, just wanting to savour every second of it.
‘Her name is Crystal,’ he said, ‘and her foster mum brings her here most weekends. Isn’t she the most precious thing in the world?’
Aurélie couldn’t answer, her eyes misting and her voice unable to penetrate the enormous lump in her throat.
‘Here, take these,’ Jasper continued, reaching into his anorak and removing a handful of folded papers. ‘When the time is right, you need to tell the police that she is yours, and to demand a DNA test which will definitely prove it. I don’t know how long it will take, but they will have to let you have access, and if you stick to what I have told you about your captivity, then hopefully one day they will give her back to you. Tell me you understand.’
