Killing You Softly (30 page)

Raisa rapidly interpreted and before we could consider what to do Mikhail was running through the archway at the side of the small car showroom into a stone-flagged yard. We followed. A
movement-sensitive light flashed on as we entered the courtyard. And there we were, looking at six units, three of which were run down and unused. The rest were padlocked, with shabby signs over
the door. ‘Harrison Plumbing Supplies’, ‘Dean Mackay, Electrician’ – and on down the row.

Mikhail chose the nearest unit. The sign above read ‘Chartsey Lawn Mower Repairs’. He shoulder-charged the wooden door and after three attempts broke the flimsy lock and smashed the
door off its hinges. Raisa covered her eyes, unable to look. I joined Mikhail to peer inside a workshop no more than five metres square. We saw big mowers, small mowers, electric and petrol, in
various states of reassembly. There were no hidden corners, no Galina.

Mikhail swore and moved on to break into the next premises. My previous confidence began to waver. What if I was wrong?

The second door gave way at Mikhail’s first attempt – it was one of the disused units, empty except for dust, cobwebs, a stack of empty plastic sacks in one corner and rusty oil cans
strewn across the floor.

Mikhail breathed heavily. He ran at the third door, secured only by a small padlock which broke under the force of his shoulder charge. Dean Mackay, Electrician would not be pleased.

Empty again except for cable, switches and sockets neatly stacked on shelves, three metal ladders and, unexpectedlly, two brand new kids’ bikes propped against a wall. Recent presents from
Santa Claus perhaps, stored here by Daddy Dean until the weather improved.

I was getting distracted, feeling my hopes of finding Galina fade. But then I heard a new noise – different to our hollow footsteps, Mikhail’s heavy breathing and the sound of wooden
doors splintering. It was an urgent tapping sound, coming from another disused unit, right at the far end of the row. I ran through wet, slushy snow, heard the sound again – a frantic
tapping, growing louder. ‘Mikhail, over here!’

He slithered through the slush and came to a halt beside me, nodded once when he heard the tapping then immediately charged at the door.

Raisa stood under the light in the stone archway, hands balled into fists, which she kept pressed against her mouth. I swear she’d stopped breathing as Mikhail made his final charge.

The door shattered and fell inward. I smelt dampness and decay, waited for my eyes to grow used to the gloom.

The workshop was a mess. There was a piece of heavy machinery stacked against the right-hand wall, its innards spilling out across the floor – springs, cogs, steel rods. Dirty rags,
perished hoses, coils of rope hung from the wall opposite. I took it all in as I stepped inside. Then finally I made out the writing on the far wall. Big red letters, daubed and dribbling down the
rough whitewashed surface, a wooden bench underneath.

And finally,
finally,
I turned round to see Galina extricate herself from the broken planks of wood that had once been the door. She hadn’t stepped back in time,
had slipped as it splintered and toppled on to her. Her hands were tied, her mouth taped.

I ran to her, gave her my hand to help her up, gently unpeeled the tape from her mouth.

She gulped in air, sobbed, fell against me.

Raisa rushed in, crying and wailing. Mikhail cut through the cable that tied Galina’s wrists with a knife he drew from his back pocket.

‘You’re safe,’ I whispered into her ear.

Galina rested her head against my shoulder and sobbed like a five-year-old wrenched out of deep sleep by a terrible nightmare. Raisa took off her jacket and wrapped it round Galina’s
shoulders. We led her slowly into the yard.

‘I think I am dying!’ she gasped. ‘In that filthy place. I am dead. No one will find me.’

‘No – you’re alive.’ I pushed her tangled hair back from her face. ‘Take deep breaths. No one’s going to hurt you now.’

A fresh terror seized her and she reached out for Raisa. ‘He will come back – I know he will!’

Raisa’s arms went round her. ‘No,
lyublmaya mou,
he will not.’ She hugged her as she always had, since she was a child small enough to sit on her lap. ‘I will not
let him.’

‘Who’s “he”?’ I urged. ‘Who did this to you, Galina?’

She hid her face against Raisa and shook her head.

Answer me! I pleaded silently. End this misery. ‘Come on, tell us who he is. Don’t be afraid.’

‘I don’t know his name.’

‘But you must. You left school to come into the village and meet him. You said you’d tell me when you got back.’

‘But that was not him,’ Galina said through her tears.

‘Who was that then?’

‘That was Luke. He likes me but he is going out with Connie. He is scared she will find out. He will find a time to tell her later.

‘OK, I get that. Meanwhile you have to keep it a secret. So you go out to meet Luke but it’s not him who kidnapped you?’

‘No, I tell you this already!’

‘Hush,
lyublmaya
.’ Raisa squeezed her and rocked her from side to side.

Wracked by sobs, still shaking, Galina allowed Raisa to lead her out of the yard on to Main Street.

‘If it wasn’t Luke, who was it?’ I wouldn’t let this go, even though Mikhail had taken out his phone to call the police, and events were moving rapidly on.

‘At first I think it’s Luke waiting for me in the trees behind the church. It is who I expect. I smile, I walk towards him. He is filming me, his hands hide his face. I smile
again.’

‘Then?’ I prompted as Galina paused, frowned and shook her head.

Then he lets one hand go away from face and he wears black scarf like this, covering face up to eyes. And he wears sunglasses at night time and grey hat over forehead. He takes something from
his pocket, something you use to fix a car.’

‘A spanner?’

‘Yes. Still he films. And he puts the spanner up like this and I think he will hit me.’ Once more she broke down and hid her face at the memory.

‘OK,’ I said gently. ‘I understand.’

I understood but I was devastated. There was no identification. Even when Ripley and her team arrived, there would be no way forward. They would slow things down with police procedures, going at
snail’s pace with criss-crossing slimy trails that led nowhere.

Meanwhile the psycho was still on the loose.

Ripley! She wasn’t supposed to know I was here and when she found out I was she’d want to send me to Richmond as planned. Mikhail had finished his 999 conversation, and put the phone
back in his pocket. I knew I only had a few minutes before the sirens blared down Main Street.

‘When the police get here, don’t mention me,’ I told Raisa hurriedly. ‘Please!’

‘But you save my Galina’s life,’ she protested.

‘Leave me out of it for now. I have a reason.’

She nodded, too taken up with comforting her darling girl to question me.

‘I’ll see you later,’ I promised Galina. ‘Raisa will take care of you.’

She looked up and for a moment gave me a glimpse of the old, unbroken Galina. ‘My father thinks he will take me from St Jude’s, but I don’t let him,’ she vowed. ‘I
make much money with my bags, pay school fees!’

‘You betcha.’ I grinned, glad to see a flash of the old spirit. ‘You take care, Galina, and I’ll see you very soon.’

I snuck off then, down the street and round the back of Five-a-Day, up the stairs to Ursula’s flat. I fumbled in my pocket for the key then I was in through the door, turning on the light,
gasping in horror.

Ursula’s room was wrecked. Her glass coffee table was shattered into lethal fragments, her TV flung against the radiator, DVDs everywhere. Cups and plates lay smashed on the kitchenette
floor.

And the message. It was scrawled in lipstick (red, of course) across the mirror in the tiny bedroom.

In a total panic I called Jack. A polite female voice told me he was unable to take my call. I left a voicemail message as requested.

‘Hey, Jack. Galina’s safe. Call me.’

Then I did my best to pick up the pieces of glass scattered around Ursula’s floor, wrapped them in newspaper and decided to wait until morning until I took them down to the wheelie bin in
the yard.

I kept checking my phone – no message from Jack. Maybe the hospital told patients to switch off their phones after a certain time – I didn’t know.

I closed Ursula’s blind, peeping through the slats to see that the snow had stopped falling and there was a clear night sky – half moon, millions of stars.

At nine o’clock I had a phone call from Zara. ‘Well done, you!’ she told me. ‘You found her.’

‘Yeah. Is she OK?’

‘She’s at the Q.E. They’re dealing with some cuts and bruises – nothing serious, but they want to keep her in overnight. Raisa’s with her.’

Hooper took Zara’s phone and spoke to me. ‘Ripley’s there, waiting to interview her. By the way, why didn’t you stick around?’

‘I’m not supposed to be here, remember. Anyway, I’ve only solved half the problem. There’s still the small matter of nailing the guy who did it.’

There was a pause then it was Zara again. ‘I’ve been thinking about that. Me and Hooper – we were talking before I called you. We both think it really is time to hand the case
over to Ripley’s team.’

‘Not this old story,’ I sighed. ‘Zara, you can stop right there.’

‘No. Let them do forensic tests – they’re bound to find our psycho’s fingerprints in the workshop or a strand of his hair on Galina’s clothes. They’ll find a
way to identify him.’

‘They haven’t up till now,’ I reminded her. ‘Forensics worked for ages at the scene of Scarlett’s murder. They didn’t come up with anything, so far as we
know.’

Hooper again. ‘You need to put yourself first for a change, Alyssa. Forget the super-sleuth stuff. Your safety is more important.’

‘This
is
my safety,’ I argued. ‘Hooper, he’s threatened me again, saying it’s going right down to the wire this time.’

‘Wow, that’s bad – honestly, Alyssa, it’s really bad.’ He paused then went on, ‘So where are you? What will you do?’

‘I’m staying with Ursula in the Bottoms. He already found that out and trashed the place. That’s where I am now.’

Zara again, as I paced the floor and lifted the blind to peer out. ‘So is there anything we can do?’ she offered.

‘Just don’t tell Ripley where I am – OK?’

‘OK.’ She sounded reluctant and uneasy.

‘And try to get hold of Jack for me. I’ve tried his phone, but it went on to voicemail.’

‘Hmm, OK. We could go to the hospital, except it’s after visiting hours so they probably wouldn’t let us in. Anyway, what do you want us to say if and when we do get hold of
him?’

‘I don’t know. Just keep an eye on him for me, will you? The last thing he said to me was that he was going to call the cops about it not being Marco.’

‘Well, they know that now even if they didn’t before.’

‘Exactly. So what you have to do is make sure Jack doesn’t do anything stupid.’

‘Like what?’ Zara asked.

‘Like try to sneak out of the hospital to find me.’

‘Whoa, that would be stupid,’ she agreed. ‘Broken ribs and all.’

‘But it’s the kind of thing Jack would do if he thinks I’m still in trouble. So talk to him, would you? Tell him everything’s cool. If not tonight, then first thing
tomorrow.’

‘Gotcha,’ Zara said.

‘What about you? What will you do?’ Hooper wanted to know.

‘I don’t know. I haven’t worked it out yet.’ I frowned as I let go of the blind and turned to look at the chaos inside the room. ‘Probably tidy up more mess here
before Ursula gets back.’

Hooper laughed. ‘Typical Alyssa,’ he said. ‘Your life is on the line and all you can think about is housework.’

‘I’ll go over things in my mind as I restore order, the way I always do,’ I promised. ‘Something will come to me.’

‘Like what?’

‘The tiny missing link. The one vital thing I’ve overlooked that’ll allow me to identify the guy. If I think long and hard enough, I’ll remember.’

I put Ursula’s TV back in place and found that it still worked, so that was one good thing. I re-stacked the DVDs. When she texted me to tell me she was staying over at
Jayden’s, I texted back
OK
.

Midnight came and went, with an old suspense/horror movie called
Don’t Look Now
on the telly, which was a bad thing because it totally freaked me out, but I couldn’t make
myself stop watching images of a tiny missing kid in a red hooded coat running down the labyrinthine back streets of Venice. Sod’s law – the coat would have to be red, wouldn’t
it? Shiny red plastic with a hood.

The movie ended and I went back to the window to peer through the blind on to a back yard piled with plastic crates and empty cardboard boxes sagging under the weight of recent snowfall. There
was more cloud in the sky now, obscuring the moon.

What had I missed? What wasn’t I seeing?

It was twelve thirty and the light bulb in Ursula’s living room died. The TV went off as if a gremlin had grabbed the remote.

No gremlins, I told myself firmly. Ursula’s electricity must be controlled by a fuse box, which has just thrown a major wobbler. All I have to do is find the bloody thing in pitch
darkness!

I fumbled under the sink, checked the storage cupboard between the living room and the bedroom and decided that the fuse box must be in the hallway at the bottom of the stairs.

But before I could find out if I was right, up came a message on my phone. Heart skips several beats as I identify sender – Hooper. Relief. It’s a short message.

He signs off with a single emoticon heart.