The Descent (Detective Louise Blackwell) Read online

  ‘You two coming?’ he shouted from the foot of the hill.

  Amy grabbed Nicole’s hands. ‘You know what happens, don’t you?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Nicole, smiling.

  ‘And you know that tonight it will be me?’ said Amy.

  The flicker of doubt on Nicole’s face vanished as quickly as it had appeared. ‘Jay told me tonight is going to be very special,’ she said, turning and skipping down the hill.

  The three of them walked through the town. It was late Sunday afternoon, the bars already doing good business. Outside the Royal Oak, people stood in circles drinking and smoking, oblivious to them as if they were invisible. ‘Where are we meeting the others?’ Amy asked Jay.

  He turned towards her, and even though he wore his hoodie and oversized sunglasses, she still fell for his smile. ‘Not far now,’ he said. ‘You worry too much, Amy.’

  Even hearing her name from his lips did something to her. And if that spell was wearing thin, it was still strong enough for her to want to follow him; even with Nicole in tow.

  Was it regret or nostalgia she felt as they walked through the row of amusement arcades on Regent Street? Nicole was hand in hand with Jay, and Amy hankered after a simpler time when she’d hung outside these very same arcades. The excitement – never displayed, of course – of such times, smoking cigarettes under the pier, kissing boys, drinking cheap white cider. She’d felt so grown up then, when in reality she’d had few concerns beyond normal teenage angst.

  If she could turn back time, would she? She’d been a teenager when she’d had Aiden; and although she’d been a teenager when she’d lost him, she wouldn’t give up their time together for anything.

  ‘Come on, slow coach,’ said Nicole, waiting for her by the pedestrian crossing opposite the Grand Pier where, it seemed a lifetime ago, she’d seen Jay and Sally hand in hand.

  Amy took Nicole’s offered hand, the excitement in her eyes unmistakable. Amy knew the DMT all but cleared the system after the initial rush. But Nicole wasn’t her usual self. Her pupils didn’t seem dilated but Amy would swear the girl was on something. She hated doubting Jay but none of this made any sense.

  ‘May I?’ said Jay, taking Amy’s hand from Nicole.

  Nicole let go and skipped ahead like a child being told her parents needed to talk alone. ‘What’s happening, Jay?’ asked Amy.

  ‘Nicole is very troubled. I could tell from the very first second I met her.’

  ‘What troubles does she have?’ said Amy, hating the dismissiveness she heard in her voice.

  Jay frowned and it wounded her to know she was responsible for his displeasure. ‘I think you, more than anyone, would know not to take outward appearances for granted.’

  Amy blinked and looked away. When Jay had met her she’d been the tough singleton. Borderline homeless, she’d had to fight for everything. She’d created a hardened image of her true self and made herself believe it. Jay had seen right through it and that in part was why she’d been able to trust him so quickly. ‘It’s too soon for her. I don’t think she’ll understand,’ she said.

  ‘Tonight is going to be different,’ said Jay, stopping on the promenade to look at her.

  ‘I’m just not sure,’ said Amy. She almost called him Charlie, to gauge his response, but that would be a trick and he deserved more than that.

  ‘I do understand, Amy, of course I do.’ Jay moved towards her and held her hands in his. ‘You do trust me, don’t you?’ he said, his eyes sadder than she’d ever seen them.

  Amy felt tears well up inside of her. She couldn’t believe she’d ever doubted him. ‘Of course,’ she said, whimpering.

  ‘Then trust me for a little bit longer.’

  Chapter Fifty-Four

  They gathered outside a block of flats on the Upper Bristol Road where the last signal from Amy’s mobile had originated. Louise was on the phone to Coulson as Tracey pulled up. ‘I brought you some help,’ she said, as DS Farrell left the passenger seat.

  Louise hung up. ‘More the merrier. I think we have a hit on her flat. Flat 12a is rented to a Ms Amy Carlisle.’

  She tried the buzzer, pressing multiple buttons until someone buzzed them in through the main door. A musty odour – damp, possibly urine – hit them as they moved towards the staircase. ‘Greg, wait here,’ said Louise, as Tracey followed her upstairs.

  ‘Eerie place,’ said Tracey.

  Louise agreed. The dampness in the air was tangible, the wallpaper peeling to reveal patches of mould. It reminded her of Claire Smedley’s home in Kewstoke, yet somehow colder, even less inviting.

  The pain from her throbbing head had now spread through her body, her limbs heavy and tight as she made her way up the staircase. She should have taken some pills, maybe drunk some water, but there was no time.

  Amy’s bedsit was on the fourth floor. Louise tried her phone again, knocking on the door when the phone went to answerphone. When there was no answer, they tried the two neighbouring doors, an elderly lady opening the door of flat 12c.

  ‘Sorry to bother you, ma’am, we are trying to locate your neighbour Amy Carlisle. Can I ask your name?’

  ‘Mrs Harris, if you must know, though Mr Harris is no longer with us. Long gone, you understand.’

  ‘Have you seen Amy today, Mrs Harris?’

  The elderly woman shrugged. ‘Amy? She ain’t in, I don’t think.’

  ‘No, I don’t believe she is,’ said Louise. ‘We’re a bit worried about her. Could you tell me when you last saw her?’

  ‘Hear her more like. Some handsome fella and a pretty young thing showed up earlier. Ain’t seen either of them before.’

  ‘When was this?’ asked Louise, scrolling through the photos on her phone.

  ‘About an hour ago.’

  ‘Is this the man?’ said Louise, showing her the picture of Chappell.

  The woman grinned, revealing red gums and a set of dentures that looked as if they hadn’t been cleaned in weeks. ‘That’s him. Good-looking, ain’t he?’

  ‘This was about an hour ago. Do you have any idea where they went?’

  ‘Looked out my window. Ain’t no crime. What else am I supposed to do?’ said the woman, staring at Louise in defiance.

  ‘No, you’ve done nothing wrong, Mrs Harris. Did you see which way they went?’

  ‘Down the hill towards town, I suppose,’ said the woman.

  ‘Did Amy look okay? And the other woman?’

  ‘Yeah, of course they looked okay. All smiling and holding hands. Up to no good probably.’

  ‘Could you describe what they were wearing?’

  Mrs Harris squinted as if she had something in her eye. ‘Not really. The man had on one of those blue hood things.’

  ‘A hoodie?’ asked Tracey.

  ‘If you say so, love.’

  ‘Thank you, Mrs Harris, you’ve been very helpful,’ said Louise.

  The woman didn’t respond but kept her eyes on Louise as she slowly shut the door.

  ‘Where have you brought me?’ said Tracey, as they headed downstairs.

  ‘God, don’t,’ said Louise.

  When they were outside, she organised the rest of the team to begin searching for Chappell, Amy and the other woman.

  ‘Do you think we have probable cause to gain entry?’ said Tracey.

  Louise called Robertson for clarification. ‘At the moment, we don’t even have a workable image for Amy. Nothing beyond this address. If we gain entry we could find something which could lead to saving her life or someone else’s.’

  Louise could tell Robertson didn’t like being put on the spot but she didn’t want to risk jeopardising either the investigation or her own career. Finch and Morley were waiting for her to make a mistake. After everything that had happened, an illegal entry could be enough to tip the balance on their side.

  ‘Okay, I think we have enough to justify entering the flat,’ said Robertson.

  Louise thanked him, still annoyed she had to ask him in the first pla
ce. She ordered one of the uniformed officers to get the enforcer. ‘I feel like I’m making a habit out of this,’ she said to Tracey as they joined Farrell at the top of the stairs. ‘You don’t have any aspirin or ibuprofen do you?’ The headache was now a full-blown migraine and Louise wondered if she was coming down with something.

  ‘You’re in luck,’ said Tracey, digging a plastic sachet of pills from her jacket pocket. ‘You want me to get you some water? You do look a bit peaky now that you mention it.’

  ‘I’m fine,’ said Louise, dry-swallowing two of the pills.

  Tracey rubbed her hands together. ‘I wonder what we’ll find,’ she said, as the uniformed officer returned with the battering ram.

  Louise gritted her teeth. ‘Yes, I wonder.’

  The door gave way with the first hit, revealing a single room, similar to Claire Smedley’s bedsit, with two adjoining rooms – a bathroom and bedroom. The place was as sparsely decorated. She found three photos under the mattress in the bedroom. It was hard to date the pictures. Each showed a young woman who appeared to be in her late teens. In her arms she held a baby with a shock of red hair. Louise looked away from the photo: the similarity to the baby photos she had of Emily were striking. ‘Let’s see if we can find out who these two are,’ she said to one of the uniformed officers.

  ‘Think I’ve found something,’ said Farrell, who was head-deep in a pile of laundry at the corner of the living area. In his hand he held a laptop.

  Louise took the machine from him, the throb of her forehead matching the spiked tempo of her pulse, as she thought about the suicide notes she’d read in the last few weeks, hoping she wouldn’t find one now.

  Like Claire Smedley’s, the laptop wasn’t password protected. Louise opened the word-processing document and found the note in her recently opened documents. It ended the same way as the others. ‘Emily’s going to be next,’ said Louise, the strength momentarily draining from her as she handed the laptop back to Greg.

  Greg looked blank and looked over at Tracey who’d stopped what she was doing. ‘You mean Amy?’ he said.

  Louise lowered her eyes. The pain was everywhere. She felt it in her jawbone as she spoke, her voice raised in an attempt to hide her mistake. ‘Just get someone to take this back to Coulson,’ she said, ignoring Farrell’s question.

  Farrell hesitated before walking off.

  ‘Everything okay?’ said Tracey, once they were back outside.

  ‘I’m fine,’ said Louise. She forwarded the images she’d found under the bed to the officers already searching in the town centre, and told the rest of the team about the note, while trying to convince herself the headache was fading.

  ‘We could be too late?’ said Farrell.

  ‘Your joyful insights are what make you such a pleasure to work with,’ said Louise. ‘I don’t think so, not yet. I need to get on to Coulson. It looks like Amy has the phone on her. We need to be ready should she switch it on again.’

  Tracey and Farrell lit cigarettes outside as Louise called Coulson. Once again, Louise was forced to confront the thought that Tracey and Farrell had been sent only as a means for Finch to monitor the case. She pictured him pulling up in a car with the assistant chief in tow, ready to take the case from her. She trusted Farrell and Tracey but they would have to follow orders, and knowing Finch she doubted they would even know they were being used.

  ‘Her phone is switched off still,’ said Coulson, answering after the first ring. ‘The second it’s activated again we’ll know. It would help if we had the IMEI number.’

  Louise passed the information on to the team.

  It seemed the success of the case might come down to whether or not they found a phone contract.

  Chapter Fifty-Five

  Beatrice, Rachael and Lisa were waiting for them at the beach near Birnbeck Pier. Beatrice wrapped her arms around Amy, her red hair spilling over Amy’s shoulders, and then repeated the gesture with Jay as the others stood up.

  ‘This is Nicole,’ said Jay. ‘She’ll be joining us tonight.’

  ‘Welcome,’ said the three other women, in unison.

  ‘Come sit, we have some food,’ said Beatrice.

  Amy caught Jay’s look, his eyes indicating that everything was fine. They’d never met together in broad daylight, and with the police interest in Jay it felt to Amy as if they were being foolhardy at best.

  The old pier loomed out from the mud, the hint of seawater in the distance behind it. Amy had never set foot on the structure, the town’s original pier. Such was its dereliction, the public were no longer allowed on it though a man had been murdered there the previous year.

  ‘Tonight is going to be special,’ said Jay. ‘For Nicole’s sake I thought we should meet earlier,’ he added, tearing off a strip of focaccia bread from the spread prepared by Beatrice and dipping it in a small plastic tub of olive oil. Nicole was snuggled in close to him, Amy on her right.

  Amy couldn’t deny the beauty of their spot – if the sea had been in it would have been picture-postcard perfect – and tried to ignore the nagging worry in the pit of her stomach. She ate what she could, trying to share the joy she saw in the eyes of everyone else in the group. They talked like any random group of friends – about everything and nothing – when each knew, as Amy did, that one of them would die that night.

  As time slipped by Nicole became more confident, chatting and mingling with the others. Amy was proud of her friend and the knot in her stomach began to loosen. Jay didn’t want the risk of a campfire so as darkness descended they pulled on their coats and walked along the beach. The sea was mirror-like as it crept towards the rear of the old pier. Amy felt Jay’s hand reach for hers, his skin cool to the touch. ‘I used to come here as a child,’ he said, to her and her alone.

  His attention warmed her. ‘The pier?’

  Jay nodded. ‘The town. I didn’t live here as a child. We lived in Gloucestershire. We used to come here and pretend to play families. Once a year until I was sixteen.’

  Jay had never talked about his childhood before. ‘What happened then?’ asked Amy, remembering the tale the policewoman had told her.

  ‘Then I started my journey. I met someone here, someone who opened my eyes to something beyond this world. It was here where it all started,’ he said.

  He didn’t elaborate and Amy didn’t question him as he summoned everyone together. Smiling, he pointed to the end of the pier where the remains of the lifeboat jetty pointed into the mud. ‘That’s our destination for tonight,’ he said. ‘We better go before the tide gets in.’

  Chapter Fifty-Six

  Two hours later and they were no closer to finding the phone contract and IMEI number that might lead them to Amy. It was early evening now, the sky already darkening. Farrell had headed into town to coordinate the search for Chappell and Amy. It was Sunday night, the town full of revellers both local and from out of town. They’d gone from bar to bar, and scanned the seafront, but Farrell had nothing to report.

  Louise hadn’t realised her day could get any worse until a car pulled up outside Amy’s block of flats and Tania Elliot stepped out dressed like she was attending a ball. She wore an elegant coat over a black dress, her heels clicking on the pavement as she walked over. ‘Inspector,’ she said.

  ‘Have we dragged you away from something?’ asked Louise.

  ‘Just dinner with a friend. Care to comment on why there is such a big police presence outside this block of flats?’

  ‘Not really.’

  ‘Is this to do with the dead women? A potential suspect?’

  ‘No comment at this time, Tania,’ said Louise.

  ‘Come on, Louise, you must be able to give me more than this. I thought we had an agreement.’

  Louise couldn’t suppress her laugh. It felt good to smile but she feared her laughter would turn to hysteria if she didn’t rein it in. Tania stepped back as if startled by such a response. ‘Any vague agreement we had evaporated the second you coined the phrase Suici
de by Sea.’

  ‘That wasn’t me,’ said Tania. ‘I would never be so crass. Believe it or not, I like this town. And suicide isn’t something I would treat so frivolously.’

  ‘If that’s the case, I apologise,’ said Louise, ‘but I have nothing for you.’

  Tania looked as equally surprised by the apology as she had by the laughter. It appeared to have stopped her from speaking as she mulled something over in her head. ‘I would rather we had a good working relationship, Inspector Blackwell,’ she said.

  Louise had been on the wrong side of the press too many times for her to consider a proper working relationship with a journalist again. Occasionally the press served a purpose and she didn’t want to dismiss Tania out of hand, but she wasn’t going to divulge anything about Amy and Chappell at this juncture. ‘I appreciate that, Tania, but I’m in the middle of an active investigation.’

  ‘Is Jay Chappell a suspect in the case?’ said Tania, undeterred.

  ‘No comment.’

  ‘He’s not at his home and I noticed there’s also a police presence there.’

  ‘You have been busy, haven’t you? No comment, Tania. Now, please let me get on with my work.’

  The journalist hesitated as if engaged in some form of internal debate. ‘It’s come to my attention, Inspector Blackwell, that your brother has got himself into some financial difficulty,’ she said eventually.

  At least she had the good grace to look sheepish. It took every inch of Louise’s willpower not to reach for her. ‘You need to be very careful what you say next to me, Tania,’ she said.

  ‘I would say it’s in the public interest when a leading detective, currently heading a case into four murdered women, has a degenerate gambler for a brother.’

  The intensity of adrenaline flooding Louise’s system made her nauseous. Tracey’s pills had eased the pain in her head, yet every inch of her felt tired and strained. She paused before responding, trying to control the relentless beat of her heart. ‘That sounds like a threat, Tania.’