‘A pick-up, probably. Hold on. Let’s see what happens.’
There was silence in Sandie’s headset, and she drummed her fingers on her knees.
Her radio burst into life again. ‘They’re on the move. Both men still in the taxi, and now it’s back on Trafford Road, still heading south. Indicating left on to Ordsall Lane. Wait! He’s pulling over. I’m going to have to pass.’ There was a slight pause before the other mobile unit came on the line.
‘Oh crap. They’re at the Exchange Quay metro station, and there’s a tram pulling up. They must have been waiting until it was on its way. We won’t reach them in time to get on.’
‘Shit, shit, shit!’ Sandie shouted. ‘Bring up the map. Where are they going?’
‘Next stop’s Pomona. If they’re just hopping on for one stop so they can lose us and be picked up by car at the next station, we’ve got no chance. It’s a two-minute tram journey and we can’t beat that. After that it’s Cornbrook. We might beat the tram there.’
‘Go! And one of you get on the tram – see if they’re still on it. Team two, head for Pomona. It might take Ash a while to either wait for the lift or get down the steps on his crutches. We could be in luck.’
‘Sarge, it’s bedlam here,’ the driver of team one radioed, a note of despair in his voice. ‘We’re too close to Old Trafford. There are roadworks, and the traffic is solid. We’re not going to make it to Cornbrook before the tram.’
‘Ditto,’ came a voice from the second car. ‘ETA Pomona ten minutes. They’ll be long gone.’
‘Fuck!’ Now Sandie knew why she hated football. They’d lost him.
72
When we got back from the café, I told Zoe I wanted to lie down.
‘Can I do anything for you?’ she had asked, her voice full of sympathy for the fact that my partner had left me at this crucial time. She doesn’t know what’s really going on. I insisted that Becky didn’t tell her.
‘It’s kind of you, Zoe, but I need to be by myself. I hope you understand.’
‘Of course. I’ll tell Nousha and Sami to leave you in peace.’
Since then I’ve been closeted in our bedroom, staring at my screen, checking the locations of each of Ash’s phones. Until now they’ve always been identical, but although Ash’s own phone is stationary at the Lowry, the one hidden in his boot is suddenly on the move. His main phone must have been dumped. The police won’t be able to track him.
Quickly, I call Becky. I want to know what they are doing, whether they’re following Ash. ‘He’s at the Lowry – you know that, don’t you?’ I tell her.
‘Yes, he was in a bar with another man. We don’t know who he is yet, but we’re working on it. They’ve left the bar – Ash had to leave his phone. We’ve got teams tracking him on the ground, and thanks to you we know we’re looking out for a black Volvo.’
It’s not enough. I know it isn’t, and try as she might to disguise it, I can hear a note of doubt in Becky’s voice. Would she tell me if they’d lost him? I don’t think so. She wouldn’t want me to panic and will probably only admit it when she has to confess that they’ve achieved nothing – that they haven’t found the woman who has Millie – the woman I don’t know, but whom I hate with a passion.
I could tell Becky about the other tracker in Ash’s boot, but what if she didn’t believe me about the informant in her team? What if everything I’ve told her has been passed on, and that’s why Ash’s phone was dumped?
I’ve got no option. If I’m not prepared to tell the police about the second phone, I’m going to have to follow him myself.
I grab my bag and force myself to stop and think for a moment. What might I need? Flat shoes, dark clothing, a torch. The thought of taking a weapon flashes through my mind. I shouldn’t be thinking like this – I’ve never used violence against anyone in my life. Then again, if I found anyone hurting Millie I don’t know what I’d do. Maybe just the threat of a weapon would be enough. I don’t have to use it.
As I open the drawer to grab a pair of socks, an idea comes to me. Slamming the drawer shut, I open the one below full of Ash’s socks and pull out the longest pair I can find, then I race into Millie’s room, crawl under the bed to find the plastic box full of games that she has grown tired of, and there is Kerplunk – complete with a bag of marbles. I stuff every one of them into the toe of the sock and tie it to hold them in place, then run back to my room to collect my bag. I’ve wasted enough time. Now I need to move!
I can hear the TV in the sitting room. Someone’s watching the news. It must be Zoe because I can hear voices coming from the kitchen and recognise Nousha’s. She’s talking to Sami.
Zoe has left the sitting-room door open, no doubt so she can monitor everyone who comes and goes, but her eyes are on the screen. I recognise Tom’s voice coming from the television and I know it’s a rerun of the press conference. I pass the open doorway on tiptoe without Zoe seeing me, head to the front door and quietly let myself out into the dark evening, wrapping the hoodie tightly round me.
I can feel a weight in my chest, and it almost stops me from breathing. It would be so easy to go back in the house, call Becky and leave it up to the police. But I can’t. I daren’t. What if someone lets slip that we have the ability to follow Ash? What if that means Millie dies?
I ram the keys into the ignition, thrust the gear stick into reverse, and the car shoots back towards the road.
I slam the brakes on. There’s a car – a black one – and it’s parked right across the entrance to our drive. It looks like I’m going nowhere.
73
Becky and Keith were trying to figure out a way to expose the person who could be passing information to the kidnappers, but all they had to go on was what Ash had been told by the woman – that she had an inside track on the investigation.
It had to be Rob, if it was anyone; he was new to the team and hadn’t yet formed any bonds. Becky felt a stab of regret. He’d been so enthusiastic. She thought of his wide smile, his boundless energy and hated to think that he wasn’t as transparent as he seemed. Nevertheless, until they knew for certain, they were going to have to be careful. For now, all intel coming from the covert team was being directed to Becky and not going through the incident room.
She hadn’t felt ready to admit to Jo that they had lost Ash. There was nothing to be gained by panicking her, and while Sandie’s team were trying to locate him, Becky and Keith had other priorities.
‘The team can’t get wind of the fact that Ash was having an affair, Keith, so I need to get myself down to the hospital to see if anyone knows who the woman might have been.’
Keith was sitting straight-backed in his chair, and Becky could sense his desire to get things moving.
‘Before I go, I’m going to speak to Detective Superintendent Stanley. We need to involve Professional Standards – get them to examine computer activity for each member of the team, and maybe telephony too. It can’t wait until I’ve been to the hospital.’