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Gina looked at him aghast. The man was deranged. ‘Love you?’ She took a step back. ‘Never!’
‘You’re shocked, surprised, you’re thinking it won’t happen. You’re wrong, Gina. All we need is time.’
She had to get away. She couldn’t get out of the flat, but anywhere would do as long as it was away from this madman. Doing her best to adopt a professional manner, Gina stepped into the hall and faced him directly.
‘I’m going to rest on my bed. Promise me that you won’t come into my room.’
‘We’ll talk again when you’re feeling better. Leave your door open, I’ll not wake you.’
Gina moved past him towards her room. The moment he was behind her, the cold tension returned between her shoulder blades. Quickly, she walked into her bedroom. There was no lock on the door so she did as he’d said and left it half open. She kicked off her shoes, climbed onto the bed without undressing and pulled the duvet tightly around her shoulders. Despite the cover, her body felt like ice.
Why me? Why? Why me?
20 (#ulink_f983e6e2-8519-594e-8b4d-648bc1c8916c)
When they’d left Dover and were on the A2 back to Canterbury, Ed asked Jenny what she’d managed to get from the dead woman’s parents.
‘Very little. The husband, Tony Jenkins, did most of the talking. I didn’t push Pat, the mother; she was very upset. Actually, Tony’s the stepfather.’
‘And the daughter …?’
‘Kayleigh Robson, 23, an only child. They’re not from around here; they come from Strood.’
‘Where’s that?’
‘Part of the Medway Towns – it’s across the river from Rochester.’
‘So, what was Kayleigh doing in Dover?’
‘She moved out of the family home when her mother remarried. According to the stepfather, they hadn’t seen Kayleigh for three or four years.’
Ed waited while Jenny negotiated a roundabout.
‘If they’d lost touch with the daughter, what were they doing at her flat in Dover?’
‘They had an arrangement. Ever since Kayleigh left home, her mother has paid for a mobile contract. In return, Kayleigh promised she would always call between 5 and 6 p.m. on the 21st of every month. When she hadn’t called by 6.30 today, the mother tried to call her, but she couldn’t get through to Kayleigh’s phone. This had never happened before. She got increasingly worried and finally insisted Tony drive with her to Dover. They had a key to the flat, let themselves in and found Kayleigh dead.’
‘Poor woman – to find your child like that must be an unimaginable experience,’ said Ed.
The two detectives drove in silence, each with their own thoughts, until Ed added, ‘We’ll know more when we get the post-mortem report and hear from forensics.’
21 (#ulink_28e0e9c2-12e6-5f81-a4f7-7d5585a0c839)
Gina tried to turn over in bed but couldn’t; something was holding her right arm. She pulled. It tightened round her wrist. Now fully awake, she opened her eyes in time to see the Decorart man loop a cord around her other wrist and pull it towards the head of the bed.
‘What the … You bastard!’
Anger, not fear, rose within her. Colin was standing by the bed. She kicked out, but he stood back and her struggles tightened the cords at her wrists.
‘Gently. Don’t mark your skin. The cords are velvet-covered but even so you’ll not want them too tight. Struggling is pointless. You’ll not escape.’
‘You bastard. Let me go. You promised not to come in here.’
‘I said I wouldn’t wake you. I’m sorry that I did. Please don’t struggle. I don’t want you to hurt yourself. You must see that it’s pointless to struggle.’
Gina saw this only too well. The man who called himself Colin Smith stood at the foot of the bed with two more cords. Unless she could talk him out of it she would soon be spread-eagled, arms and legs stretched to the four corners of her bed.
‘I know I’m in your power. You don’t need to tie me down.’
‘Ah, but I’m afraid I do.’
‘Why? I accept that you’re stronger. I know I can’t escape. You said you didn’t want to hurt me. I trusted you, but now you’re doing this!’
‘More to the point, Georgina, how can I trust you? I may be stronger, but I need to sleep. You must see that it would be foolish for me to leave you unrestrained while I slept.’
He bent, swiftly looped a cord round her ankle and secured her right leg to the foot of the bed. Moments later, her left leg was also tied.
‘Don’t struggle or you really will hurt yourself. I’m going for a short walk to clear my head. Don’t worry. I’ll be back soon to get some rest. I suggest you do the same.’
Gina heard him walk to the outer door. A key turned; the door opened and closed. She pulled at her bonds. They were secure. Her fear returned. Left alone in the flat she felt more afraid than when he was with her. What if he didn’t come back? She’d starve or die of thirst.
Immediately, Gina felt very thirsty. Her mouth was dry. She turned her head to look at the bedside table. The near-empty glass of water was still there, but it was impossible to reach. She closed her eyes, trying to put water from her mind. The dryness in her mouth intensified. With her body stretched to the four corners of the bed, her arms and legs began to ache. She longed to turn on her side, to pull up her legs and wrap her arms around her knees.
Eventually, Gina heard him return and she feigned sleep. The dryness and thirst had disappeared. His footsteps came to the bedroom door, paused and moved through to the sitting room. Despite her bonds, she felt reassured now that he was back. She was no longer alone. He would come if she called.
Although she felt safer with Colin in the apartment, Gina was still struggling to come to terms with the horror of her position. Screaming and shouting for help had achieved nothing; he’d calmly waited for her to stop. Clearly, he was confident that no one would hear her cries. With no one immediately likely to come to her aid, and no one who would raise the alarm for at least a fortnight, she had to do something. To do nothing left Colin in control. Do nothing and any change would come from him. To improve her position, she had to know what best to do. Despite her ambivalent feelings of safety and threat in his presence she must get him talking. She needed to ask questions and use his answers to formulate a plan.
Tomorrow morning she’d make a start. She’d try talking with him at length. How did he know so much about her? How did he organize getting into her home? Despite her desperate situation, part of her really wanted to know and she was certain he’d enjoy revealing how clever he’d been. Her interest would flatter his ego. She must steel herself to play a game, act a role, gain his confidence and find a weakness, a weakness that would offer a means of escape.
Tied to the bed, half dozing, half planning, it slowly dawned on Gina that her best chance of escape, probably her only chance, would involve submitting to his desires. She cringed at the thought of him touching her. Her mind recoiled at the idea of submission. Nausea threatened to overwhelm her as she fought to keep images of the likely scenario from her mind. She knew she could disengage during the physical act, but the horror of the experience would remain. In taking her, possessing her, he would rob her of her self-esteem. She might choose submission as her safest option, but it wasn’t a genuine choice. The choice had been his. By engineering this situation, he was forcing her to do something her whole being screamed against.
Gina’s prime wish was self-preservation, but her mind recoiled at the prospect of what survival might entail. What had he said? He didn’t just want sex; her submission wouldn’t satisfy him. Surrendering and giving herself wouldn’t be enough. He wouldn’t be content until he was sure she wanted him as much as he wanted her.
Impossible! Gina shrank in revulsion from the prospect. She could not let this man take possession of her. She would not let this man own her. There had to be another way, but what that other way might be she couldn’t think. Only by getting him to talk could she find out. She must overcome her feelings and engage with him tomorrow.
These thoughts repeated in her head, at first logically, but then in abbreviated snatches of ideas, each swirling after the other in a sequence that became increasingly random. There was no progression, no developing argument, just brief flashes of horror and hope, until she slipped from consciousness to a troubled night of dreams.
22 (#ulink_b9e3ecdd-1777-5cd1-a1ee-d3e6b67fbc0a)
Summoned to Chief Superintendent Karen Addler’s office at 08.30, Ed had spent all of three minutes briefing her line manager on the discovery of Kayleigh Robson’s body when the Super reached for her fat fountain pen and terminated the meeting with a brusque request to be kept informed.
Earlier, Ed had asked Jenny and Mike Potts to re-interview Kayleigh’s parents in Strood. From Jenny’s questioning the previous evening it appeared Kayleigh had moved out of the family home as soon as her stepfather had moved in. Consequently, Ed wasn’t expecting any new revelations, but the follow-up interview had to be done. It would also show the police were actively pursuing an investigation. When Ed returned to the CID Room, Mike and Jenny had left and only DC Nat Borrowdale remained in the office. He looked up as she crossed to her desk.
‘Forensics called. They’d like you to get back to them for an initial report on the dead woman’s flat.’
Ed picked up her phone and dialled. ‘Hi, it’s DI Ogborne, you have a prelim on the flat in Dover.’ Then was a pause as she waited for someone else to come to the phone. ‘Hi, it’s Ed.’ After a few minutes listening, Ed spoke again. ‘And you’re sure there was no mobile phone in the flat?’ Following a brief silence, Ed added, ‘Okay, thanks,’ before cutting the call and redialling.
‘Mike, when you’re with the parents, ask Pat, the mother, for details of Kayleigh’s mobile. It may be in the daughter’s name, but the mother pays the bills. Tell her we need the information in order to access the phone records; explain they could assist our investigation of her daughter’s death.’
Ed ended the call and got to her feet. ‘Okay, Nat, we’re on our way to Dover. I’ll bring you up to speed as you drive.’
When they arrived at Maxton House, Ed recognized the constable at the entrance as the one who, last night, had been inside the building at the door of the second-floor flat.
‘Feeling better out here?’
‘Yes, thank you, Ma’am. Before you go up, the Sarge would like a word.’ She pointed to a uniformed figure crossing the road towards them.
‘Sergeant Burstford, Ma’am. I’m just winding up the door-to-door.’
‘DI Ogborne and this is DC Borrowdale, Canterbury CID. What have you got for us?’
‘Not a lot, I’m afraid. Kayleigh Robson lived here alone. The block’s due for a major refurbishment and Kayleigh was the last remaining tenant. She worked at the convenience store down the road. Some of the locals knew her by sight, but she appears not to have had particular friends in the area. At least, nobody remembers seeing her with anybody. Those who admitted knowing her said she kept herself to herself and barely spoke to people except briefly when they were shopping.’
‘Did you check the shop out?’
‘The owner confirmed Kayleigh worked there, but said she hadn’t been in for over a week. Apparently, he found a note pushed through the door saying she needed a break and was taking a fortnight off.’
‘When did he find the note?’
‘First thing on Friday of last week, the 14th. Said it must have been pushed under the door during the night. He’d scribbled the date on it and kept it in a drawer. So we know she was alive on the Thursday, maybe early on the Friday.’
‘Mmm …’ Ed hesitated a moment before replying. ‘Probably, unless somebody else delivered the note. What about CCTV?’
‘Maxton House, where her flat is, doesn’t have any security cameras. Nor is this road covered, but there are cameras up there.’ Sergeant Burstford pointed up to the main road. ‘On the Folkestone Road, there are multiple cameras between here and the centre of town.’
‘And the shop where Kayleigh worked?’ asked Ed.
‘They have security cameras inside. We’ll check the tapes for last Thursday and Friday – should pick up Kayleigh’s movements and maybe someone with her.’
‘Good. We might be able to point you to some additional cameras.’
‘Ma’am?’ Burstford’s response was tinged with annoyance. Clearly, Dover was his patch and he didn’t take kindly to outsiders telling him his job.
‘Relevant intel, Sergeant. Kayleigh had a mobile, but forensics didn’t find one in her flat. Two of my colleagues are with the parents in Strood. They’ll be asking the mother, who paid the phone bills, for details so that we can access the mobile records. With luck, we’ll get intel about contacts and meetings around the time of her death.’
Burstford smiled. ‘If you can identify meeting places, we can target relevant CCTV.’
‘It’ll be good working with you, Sergeant. Let’s hope our collaboration leads to a swift result.’ Ed turned to enter the building, then added, ‘Two weeks without notice – that must have pissed him off.’
‘Her boss at the corner shop is from an extended family. Easy for him to get someone to cover. I got the impression he wasn’t sorry to see Kayleigh gone. Said she was an adult and it was her life.’
It had been her life, thought Ed, and it hadn’t been a long one.
‘Thanks. If anything else comes up, let me know. We’re going to take another look upstairs.’
‘Okay, Nat, what’s your first impression?’
‘From what I can see, it’s like you said in the car: everything looks to have been thoroughly cleaned.’
‘The whole flat was pristine. Of course, the sheet and pillowcase were stained where they’d been in direct contact with her body, as were the clothes she was wearing, but everything else had been recently washed.’
‘Scrupulously clean flat,’ said Nat to himself. Then to Ed, ‘What were her hands like?’
‘She’d been dead six to ten days.’
‘Right. I was thinking she might have been a compulsive cleaner.’
‘Unlikely. The flat had been methodically cleaned yet there were almost no cleaning items in the cupboards. Every hard surface had been wiped down with bleach, but forensics found no bleach in the flat, not even empty containers. The bins in the bathroom and kitchen were empty, and fitted with new liners.’
‘Someone carefully covering their tracks, taking their rubbish and cleaning things with them,’ suggested Nat.
‘And someone took her mobile,’ added Ed. ‘Almost certainly the person who cleaned the flat and moved her body.’
‘And the cleaning left no fingerprints?’
‘Only hers on items at the back of cupboards, but we’ve struck lucky. There was a partial print in the bathroom, which appears not to be Kayleigh’s, and a smudged palm print on the outside of the front door, origin debatable.’
‘How come there was a stray print in the bathroom if every exposed area had been wiped?’
‘Chance. The loo has a split-button flush and one half was set a couple of millimetres lower than the other. Whoever cleaned the place hadn’t poked their cloth completely in and the print was left on the lower button. It was incomplete, so a fingerprint match is unlikely to be conclusive, but forensics will be able to retrieve DNA. With luck, whoever left it will be on the National Database and we’ll get a match.’
‘What about the smudge on the door?’ asked Nat.
‘Forensics will run the DNA.’
‘And CCTV?’
‘You heard the Sergeant.’ Ed eyed Nat disapprovingly. ‘It’s a street of old buildings. There’s no camera covering the road, let alone the entrance to Maxton House.’
As Ed spoke her mobile rang. ‘DI Ogborne.’
‘Dorling. I’ve just started the post-mortem and there’s a couple of things I thought you should know immediately.’
Ed switched her phone to speaker, so that Nat could listen in.
‘When we washed the body, we found ligature marks at the wrists and ankles.’
‘Why weren’t they picked up at the scene?’
‘She’d been dead at least a week. Body discolouration alone shouldn’t have masked them, but concealer had been applied to cover the marks. Like make-up, it came off when we washed the body.’
‘Right, and your second point?’
‘Well, the stress associated with being restrained, and whatever else happened to the poor girl before she died, probably triggered cardiac arrest. I’ll confirm that in my report, but I’ve already seen enough from the livor mortis pattern to be certain the body was moved after death. She died lying on her back with limbs spread-eagled from her body by the ligatures.’
‘What about sexual assault, traces of semen?’
‘There were no signs of forced penetration, but she wasn’t a virgin. However, there was no semen and no trace of lubricant.’
