Chapter Twenty-Four

Keeping a brave face in circumstances

is impossible

Cannot describe

so many decisions

It's impossible to know which is the proper order

the best position

to be in

Or so it seems

"2:1" - Elastica

They were in Surrey by early evening. Jimmy's heart was pounding as they rounded the corner of the long road, Westward's house in the distance. The sudden quiet tension was palpable among the four officers. Noah, who was driving, slowed the car almost to a crawl.

"Well, here we are lads," he said with forced energy.

Ike peered over his shoulder to Jimmy, who was sitting beside him. Hickok's face was drawn tightly, his lips pursed together. He was sitting straight in the seat despite the uncomfortable hours in the car. "You all right?" Ike asked softly.

Jimmy started, as if he had forgotten he was not alone and the question had pierced his meditation. "Yeah, I'm fine, Ike, thanks."

"I've got the warrant here in my hot little hand," Cody said.

Ike shifted again in his seat. "Then there's nothing left but to get up there and search the place."

"Oh yeah," Cody said nonchalantly, "other than that, there's nothing to it." The joke fell flat. No one could even force a laugh. With every second that flew by they were getting closer to the house. Each man could feel himself growing more and more tense.

It was a gorgeous house, simple and elegant, in the grand tradition of English country homes. Cody and Jimmy had no trouble imagining fox hunts and high tea in a place like that. There were no cars in the driveway, but the front door was open. Noah pulled up and stopped the car, the gentle hum of the engine dying away. The four officers stared. After a moment a young woman dressed in slacks and a shirt came out onto the porch. When she saw the car full of strange men, she stopped short and looked visibly startled.

On cue, Noah, Cody, Ike, and Jimmy opened their doors and stepped out of the car. The woman's eyes widened at the sight of them. "Can-can I help you?"

Four badges were flipped open and lifted in display, another simultaneous gesture. "I'm Detective Sergeant McSwain-these are Detective Inspector Dixon, Sergeant Cody, and Lieutenant Hickok. Is Mr Julian Westward available?"

"No." Perplexed, the woman frowned. "Mr Westward hasn't been here in months."

There was no false ring to her voice. She had spoken with easy assurance. Trying not to look as defeated as he felt, Noah asked, "Has anyone been here in the past couple of months?"

"No one besides myself and the rest of the staff."

"And may we ask who you are, ma'am?"

"Angelina Cyrus. I'm the caretaker."

"Ms Cyrus, we have a court order to search this house. May we come in?"

Angelina Cyrus shrugged. "I can't stop you, can I?" Her reaction was surprising: there didn't seem to be the slightest bit of curiosity, not even a flicker of interest. She just stepped aside and let them trudge into the house. "I don't know what you think you're going to find," she said. "The Westwards haven't been here since summer. But here you go." She waved her arm to indicate the house, as if she were making them a gift of it. "I'll just go tell the others you're here." She wandered off down the hall and disappeared.

Jimmy and Ike exchanged a confused look.

"She didn't even ask why we wanted to search the place," Ike said.

"Then let's not question it," Cody replied practically. "Let's just get this show on the road. I'll take these rooms over here."

Ike gestured to the rooms opposite. "I'll take these."

"We'll search upstairs then," Noah said with a nod at Jimmy. "Yell if you find anything."

It didn't look to be an easy task. No one was even very sure what they were looking for, only hoping that when they found it they would know. The first room Ike searched was the sitting room and there was nothing of any import there, not so much as a stray envelope. He poked his way through an empty study and an equally empty breakfast room before heading into the kitchen.

Whether it was the soft soles of his walking shoes, or simply the natural quietness that had been born to him, Ike didn't know; but whatever it was, it allowed him to approach Angelina Cyrus undetected. She was in an opposite corner of the kitchen, her back to him, and she was talking on the phone. Whispering was more like it. But when Ike craned his neck, stepping further into the kitchen, ears straining, he heard murmured bits of the conversation.

"...told you they're here!" Angelina was whispering fiercely. "Now it's up to you to tell him they're here!...You'd better come up with something good, because they're going to be here a while, I can tell from the looks of them...He'll want to know, believe me...Yeah. Best of luck, Nige. See you."

Ike had to stop himself from keeling over. 'Nige'? As in Nigel? As in Nigel Atherton? 'Steady on, Ike,' he warned himself. 'Don't be jumping to conclusions.' But his mind was already racing to assemble the jumbled pieces of conversation he had just heard. Angelina was warning someone that the police were here-but she was warning someone to warn someone else. Who else would need to be kept away but Westward himself?

Always willing to argue his own verdict, Ike quickly considered all the other possibilities and came up with very few. Who else would be warned away from the house simply because there were police officers there? Particularly if those officers had made it blatantly clear that they were there after one person and one person only. No, he had to be right: Angelina Cyrus was warning Nigel Atherton to keep Westward away.

Which meant that Nan could be somewhere in this very house. For a moment Ike fought down a wave of nausea. To think of Nan cooped up somewhere in this house because of that monster...

That is, if he was right.

Slowly, Ike backed out of the room. Angelina was dialling again. She still hadn't noticed he was there. He found Cody in the drawing room downstairs, looking through the desk that leaned against the wall. There was an exasperated look on his face; it was obvious his searches had been as fruitless as Ike's own. Before he could open his mouth to utter a word, Ike heard the unmistakable screeching of tires at the side of the house. He recognised the sound instantly and ran to the picture window that looked out onto the front lawn. A van had pulled to a brief halt. The windows were tinted black. A moment later the tires squealed back into action and the van took off down the drive as if the devil himself was at its back. The realisation came to Ike in a horrible, icy blast of fear. Nan.

They had Nan in there. And now they were taking her away.

"Keys!" He shouted at Cody. "Where are the car keys?"

Cody was baffled. "I don't have them! I can't drive these crazy British cars with their steering wheels on the wrong side and their-"

"Noah!" interrupted Ike. He pushed Cody out of the way and ran through the hall, careening around corners and nearly tripping over his own feet as he dashed up the stairs. "Noah!" he cried as he went. "Noah! Noah, where the hell are you?"

"Jesus, Ike, what's all the racket for?" Jimmy had appeared from one side of the hall. Servants were filtering from various rooms, startled.

"Where the hell is Noah?" Ike panted.

"In there, last time I saw him."

Ike ran into the bedroom Jimmy had pointed to. He nearly collided with Noah as he emerged from a closet.

"Was that you calling my name, McSwain?"

"Keys," gasped Ike. "Give me...the car keys!"

"What for?"

"Noah, please..."

"You're worrying me, Ike."

"Just give me the sodding car keys, Noah!"

Wordlessly Noah slipped the ring of keys from his pocket and into Ike's outstretched palm. Never before had he heard Ike raise his voice above a stern declaration. He watched as his friend tore out of the room, heard his footsteps thundering back down the stairs.

Adrenaline rushed through Jimmy's veins. Ike was on to something. He raced after him, catching up with him as he came to the car. Ike didn't even look up as Jimmy opened the opposite car door, just climbed in and started the engine with ferocity. Jimmy didn't even have time to buckle himself in before the car jerked and started and they had pulled out at breakneck speed.

"What are we doing, Ike? You're driving like a bat out of hell!"

"It's just a hunch I have, Jimmy."

"A hunch? You're going to kill us over a goddamn hunch?"

"It's a good hunch!" Ike shot back. His fingers gripped the steering wheel so hard his knuckles turned white.

"Is it Westward?"

"No." Ike hesitated. He didn't want to get Jimmy's hopes up.

"Then what is it?"

They had come to the main road. It stretched before them, seemingly endless. Another road spread out to their right, and yet another to their left. All three lanes were quiet and traffic-free. Without warning Ike slammed on the breaks, pounding the steering wheel with the palm of his hand.

"Bollocks, bollocks, bollocks!" he roared.

"Ike, what the hell is going on?"

"I heard Angelina Cyrus talking on the phone to someone she called 'Nige.' She was warning him to keep someone else away from the house. Then I saw a van taking off suddenly from the house. I thought..."

Jimmy had turned an unearthly pale. "They have Nan in there."

"Yes. At least, I think so."

"And we were so close."

Ike leaned forward, resting his forehead against the steering wheel. "Not close enough." They sat silent in the car for a long time. Jimmy stared at the empty roads that extended before him, knowing the van could have gone down any of them. Knowing they could be taking Nan anywhere.

Emma couldn't remember a time when she felt more like celebrating and crying at the same time than she did right now. Still, there had to be a first for everything.

They had a signed statement from Victoria Westward, but without Julian Westward himself it was almost worthless. They had Freddy Appleton back in for questioning, but they didn't have Nan at all, and another day had passed. Her officers looked run-down and worried and it was killing her. She didn't care that all of this was beyond her control; she was furious at herself that they hadn't gotten any further than they had. She felt her own helplessness acutely.

The entire team had gathered in the incident room when the next batch of photographs arrived. Sam hadn't even had time to give anyone their assignments for the day. PC Brierly saw the package in PC Duncan's hands and drew in her breath sharply. Emma's hands shook so badly when she reached for it that Kid stepped in and took it for her.

"Should I put on some gloves, Emma?"

Emma nodded mutely.

Kid found some thin latex gloves and put them on. It was unlikely that Westward had been foolish enough to leave any fingerprints, but better to be safe than sorry. When he removed the stack of photographs a collective breath was exhaled by his fellow officers. They were not surprised to see them, but the familiarity of receiving them did not lessen the shock of the photos themselves. They were of Nan, which was also no surprise. But one look at the first photograph was enough to knock the air out of Ike completely. His complexion went green and he ran from the room. Several others looked as if they'd like to join him.

The photo was passed around. It showed Nan in the sitting room of her flat, a blindfold around her eyes, her wrists tied together and crossed behind her back. There was a man sitting beside her with his back to the camera. The man had black hair and wore a suit of impeccable design. His hand was resting on Nan's knee. Her expression was that of sheer panic. When the photograph reached Jimmy he was shaking with rage. The photo trembled in his hand.

"Jimmy...Jimmy, calm down." Louise put her arm around him. "Just breathe deep." But he shrugged her arm off.

"Don't tell me to calm down, Lou. Look at this! The son of a bitch has Nan!" His voice broke. "He's got Nan..."

Sam leaned down and whispered to Emma. "Don't let him see the rest of these."

Emma closed her fingers around the stack of pictures that he had thrust into her grasp. She closed her eyes. "What are they?"

Groaning, Sam ran his fingers through his hair and tried to shake off the images he had just seen. "They show Nan, tied up, blindfolded, gagged, sitting in her own damn flat. Some of them are in a fancy sitting room. He's in some of them with her."

"He hasn't..." Emma couldn't finish the sentence.

Immediately he sensed what she was thinking. "I don't think that's what this is about, Emma. I think he's trying to scare us. Maybe he's trying to scare her."

"It's about more than that, Sam. Rachel said so-this is an obsession for him. He did the same to her years ago-followed her, threatened her, stole her away for weeks."

"But he let her go."

"Yeah, eventually. After he'd beaten her black and blue, after he'd scared her nearly out of her head...he let her go then, yeah."

"Did you see the letter, Sam?" O'Hara was holding a slip of paper out to the Chief Inspector.

"I'm afraid to take it."

"Read it, Sam."

All eyes were on him. The paper rustled like a dried leaf. Finally Sam found the will to make his voice work.

"'No doubt you will find these photographs of the lovely Inspector Kenworthy highly disturbing,'" he read. "'Perhaps as disturbing as I find it to be followed, to be photographed and videotaped against my will. I am tired of these games. I no longer wish to play cat and mouse. I am through with the members of the Hawkesworth Brokerage Firm. I have no need of them, nor do I have need of their meagre wealth. What's more, I really have no need of Inspector Kenworthy. She is quite pleasant to look at and certainly has a sharp mind, but it is not strictly necessary for me to retain the possession of her. How long I keep her and how well I take care of her depends entirely upon you. And by "you" I mean the lot of you: every worthless, thick-headed, blundering flatfoot among you. My patience has worn thin. Either leave me be or prepare yourself for the consequences.'"

Lifting his eyes from the paper, Sam looked at Jimmy. He was stricken, paralysed with fear. "He won't hurt her, Jimmy. He doesn't say he'll hurt her."

"He doesn't say otherwise, either, Sam!" argued Kid.

"He's murdered before, Sam," Jimmy said, finding his voice. "What's to stop him from doing it again? Nan's in his way, just like Eric Jeffries and everyone else he's murdered!"

Louise tried to reason with him as best she could. "But he-he wants her. Right? Rachel said so. Why would he hurt her if he wants her?"

"Lou's right," Sam said. "Maybe this will be our saving grace. He's too fixated on her to want to hurt her. We won't rest until we find her. Nan's a fighter. She'll hold out till we find her. She'll wait for us. I know she will." He looked at the gathered officers. His words hung in the air for a moment and then faded away.

He had no way of knowing just how wrong he was.