Not knowing the right answer she shook her head.
He nodded his understanding as the last bit of the cake disappeared into his mouth. ‘I think you need a cup of tea.’
Suddenly she woke to the ridiculousness of her predicament. Why the hell was she going along with everything he told her to do? Her life was at stake here. He had kidnapped her, drugged her, imprisoned her and now he was feeding her. Here she sat like one of his stupid fucking dolls with a fresh clean face and clips in her hair.
She paused as she managed to hold the thought. She had wire grips in her hair and one hand free. She had to stay present in her own mind long enough for those two thoughts to join up and become something useful.
He placed the cup before her and added the milk.
‘Now be a good girl and drink your tea.’
Tracy reached for the cup, remembering how he’d reacted the last time she’d refused. The trembling of her hand caused the chipped cup to clatter around the saucer.
She remembered again how he had reacted when she’d refused to drink.
She placed the cup back down in the saucer and gently shook her head.
He sat up straight and frowned. ‘Tracy, please pick up your cup.’
Again she shook her head.
He put his own cup back on the table.
‘Tracy, I won’t ask you again. You have to drink the tea.’
Her heart was beating rapidly, but she had to refuse. Again she shook her head.
He stood and the plastic chair fell backwards behind him.
He strode around the table and grabbed the cup from the tray. As he moved behind her she reached up and ripped the kirby grip from her hair. He grabbed a handful of her hair into a ponytail and yanked back her head.
He positioned the cup above her mouth and began to tip it towards him. She was looking into his upside-down face, and she knew she had only one chance.
The warm tea began to drip onto her lips, but this time he’d lost the element of surprise and her mouth remained closed.
The liquid ran over her chin. He paused as he realised he had a problem. He could not hold on to her hair and the teacup and prise her mouth open.
That second of confusion was all she’d been waiting for. She would have only one chance, and she had to make it count.
She threw up her arm, her hand clenched around the clip.
In her mind the motion was a snap, a whip, a thrust that took a nanosecond to execute. The actuality was like watching a slow-motion replay and all the will of her mind would not make her arm move quicker.
He loosed her hair and deflected her attempt easily and the grip, along with her one chance at freedom, tumbled to the ground.
He used his free hand to pinch her nostrils closed, meaning she had no choice but to open her mouth.
‘Here, let me,’ he said, lifting the cup to her lips.
He turned the cup more and most of the drink shot in a torrent down her throat.
‘Good girl,’ he said, smiling.
Tracy knew she’d just been fed more of the drug he’d been using on her.
Her instinct caused her to cough, but it was too late. The liquid had gone.
He sighed and tipped his head. The regret didn’t reach his eyes.
There she saw a coldness she had never experienced before. Her heart began to pump quickly, and yet she couldn’t tear her eyes away.
No one had ever looked at her with such concentrated hatred. It burned the colour into her cheeks.
‘Graham, I was the one that helped you,’ she blurted out. ‘Don’t you remember?’
‘Of course I remember,’ he said. His face didn’t alter one bit. ‘But it wasn’t soon enough, was it?’
Tracy felt the colour in her cheeks deepen with shame. He was right, and she knew it. Initially she had been just as curious as the others and damn it, for a few minutes had enjoyed the fact they’d been laughing at someone other than her. But then a sickness had worked its way into her stomach, and she had bolted for the door.
She hadn’t wanted anyone to feel the way she did. But he was right – she should have gone for help sooner.
‘Graham, I’m sorry for…’
He held up his hands to silence her. ‘It doesn’t matter, anyway, Tracy. It’s now time for you to go.’
And that was when she knew it was time to die.
Eighty-Two
As they entered the lane that stretched the last quarter mile to Westerley, Kim began to hope that her plan had worked.
The press knew the procedure and the mass exodus of police vehicles would have signalled there was nothing else happening. There would be no further updates and no more bodies to be found.
Reporters did not hang around when there was nothing more to be gained. They had either headed home or on to the next unfortunate story.
Kim recalled the last time they had all been in her small car heading towards Westerley. It was difficult to believe it had been less than a week. The mood could not have been more different.
‘You guys ready for this?’ Kim asked as they approached the gate.
They all sounded a positive response.
The gate opened before Kim pressed the intercom. She groaned inwardly. Would they never learn? Just because they recognised the car approaching the CCTV camera was not a good enough reason to allow instant access.
Kim stopped the car and all four doors opened at the same time.
She couldn’t help but remember the red pickup truck that had been parked there earlier in the week. It had been nice to see Lola again.
She strode towards the Portakabin and opened the door.
Professor Wright and Catherine sat at the table and Jameel stood at the computer desk, telling her that he was the one who had let them in. She really would have a word about that later.
Kim moved further into the space as her team filed in behind her. They fanned out to various points of the Portakabin.
Kim looked to the professor, who was wringing his hands.
She immediately noted the absence of the security guard. ‘Darren not here yet?’
‘He’s called in sick,’ Professor Wright answered, looking worried.
Kim glanced at Bryant, who nodded and stepped back outside. A unit had been sent to Darren’s home after she’d learned of his visit to the hospital. When the constables had received no answer she had assumed he was on his way to work. They were not in a position right now to chase after him, but Bryant would instruct a squad car to keep trying.
Catherine offered her a warm smile and a nod as she stood. She wore light jeans with an embroidered design and a pastel vest top. Kim was surprised to see that she had added a little make-up too.
‘May I get anyone a drink?’ she asked, looking round. ‘We have tea, coffee and bottles of Coke in the fridge.’
Most of the team said no. Only Dawson said yes.
A scent of flowery perfume wafted past her as Catherine reached behind her into the fridge.
‘Okay, I’m assuming Professor Wright has explained to you why we’re here.’
Both Catherine and Jameel nodded in her direction.
‘Shortly, a backup vehicle containing a further five police officers is going to be parked up at the end of the lane should we need them.
‘I want Bryant and Professor Wright at the site where Louise was found. Catherine and I will be over at the recent site where Jemima and Isobel were found, and I want Kev and Jameel in the middle.’
There was a simple logic in her plan and it all revolved around physical fitness. The professor was not as agile as his other staff members and so he was best placed at the most unlikely spot. Both Dawson and Jameel had youth and fitness on their side and could get to either of the two danger spots quickly if needed.
‘Stacey, I need you here keeping watch on the cameras and monitoring the radio.’
Stacey nodded her understanding.
‘We will be using the on-site radio system so Stacey can keep a check on us all. She will also be our link to the backup team down the road. Keep your torches aimed at the ground and use them only when necessary. Once you reach your designated location turn them off.’