Trafficked, page 26
‘Oh God,’ she mouthed, as the realisation of what she was seeing slowly filtered into her consciousness.
‘An ambulance is on the way,’ the bearded man repeated, offering to take hold of Crystal again.
The girl refused to budge, until Aurélie whispered into her ear, ‘Please, my darling, just stay with the man for a minute while I check on Daddy. Please? I will only be a second.’
Crystal reluctantly released her grip, and Aurélie lowered her to the floor, where the bearded man took her hand and held her out of sight of the windscreen.
Aurélie crept around the front of the vehicle, careful not to touch any part of it in case something dislodged and she caused further damage, until she came face to face with him. She couldn’t stop herself gasping at the sight. His face was as grey as the clouds overhead, and she could see where a large shard of glass had ripped into his side, where the majority of the blood was pooling.
It would have been kinder had he not been conscious, but his eyes moved and lips parted into a smile when he saw her. ‘I’m sorry,’ he mouthed.
For so many years she’d imagined worse fates befalling him: a trip down the tunnel stairs resulting in impalement on some piece of farm equipment; her using the burning candle to scorch out his eyes; strangling him during sex until his eyes rolled back in his head. But now that she was faced with the moment – his life dripping away before her eyes – she didn’t want it.
This man – this monster – who had robbed her of any childhood, stolen her innocence, set them on this route – why couldn’t she embrace the natural hatred that should have cloaked every cell in her body? She knew she should hate him for everything he’d forced her to do down the years; for the way he had controlled every aspect of her life, including her eventual escape. All she felt now was her heart breaking in two at the prospect of never seeing him again, or hearing that croaky laugh in the rare moments of pleasure they’d shared.
Oh God, what was wrong with her? Why couldn’t she feel hatred towards him? Nobody else in their right mind would be so prepared to forgive those early nights when he would force himself on her. Nobody else would forgive how he manipulated her into helping steal the innocence of other victims. How many girls and boys had she helped drag into this destitute life of assault and shame?
In the moment when she should have been revelling in his demise, all she wanted to do was reach out and touch his face one final time, and tell him to wait for her in the next life. She wanted to swap places with him, and if she’d had the courage, she would have snapped off a piece of that windscreen and dragged it across her own throat so she wouldn’t have to be alone.
‘You… need… to… go…’ he said breathlessly.
‘I can’t do this without you,’ she said, moving closer so that he would hear, now barely inches from where the blood was flowing like a waterfall. He didn’t have long left, that much was clear from his face, and from the way his legs were jiggling as his brain began to realise its imminent doom.
‘I… love… you… Aurélie,’ he tried again.
In thirteen years he’d never used her first name, and now it would be the last word he would utter.
‘I love you too,’ she said, ignoring the revulsion in her head, and pressing her lips against his. ‘I’m so sorry it’s ending like this. I will see you again, my love.’
But as she straightened and looked back at him, she saw the life had left his eyes, and he was breathing no more.
The distant chorus of sirens snapped her out of the spell, and she swiftly moved back around the vehicle to where Crystal looked so confused by her immediate surroundings. The man with the beard released her hand, and she meandered over to Aurélie, uncertain which of the strangers to trust, and clearly missing her foster family. Aurélie took her hand and led her away from the scene, to somewhere quiet where she could try and explain what was going on, even though she could barely follow it as an adult.
Crouching at the kerb on the opposite side of the road where traffic had stopped following the accident, she wiped dirt from Crystal’s cheeks. ‘Some men will come for you soon. They are the police, and they will take you back to your family, okay? I did a bad thing taking you today, and I am so sorry to have scared you.’
Crystal buried her head in Aurélie’s shoulder – her way of accepting the apology, Aurélie assumed. And there the two of them remained: a mother and daughter from different worlds sharing a bond of love that would never be broken. It had been impulsive to snatch Crystal at the playground and assume the three of them could make it out of the country, and now Aurélie would have to face questions about why she had done it, and jeopardise her chances of any normal kind of relationship with Crystal. At the same time, she couldn’t ignore the probability that Crystal would surely have a better life if she never learned of the wretched past that had produced her. And maybe that was why she couldn’t ultimately hate Jasper: he’d given her a daughter to fight for, a reason to keep going.
The consequences of what she’d done now terrified her, and she couldn’t bear to think about the nature of the questions that would soon be levelled at her. And then she thought about the social workers who would be called to take Crystal away, and she didn’t think it was fair for Crystal to have to deal with more strangers, and that’s when she decided she would stop allowing other people to determine how her story would end.
‘Do you like ice-cream?’ she asked Crystal.
The little girl nodded, the first glimpse of a smile forming on her tired face.
‘I think we should go and get some, don’t you? I know a place where they sell the best ice-cream.’
And with nobody in the surrounding crowd really noticing, they slipped away, putting the past and sirens behind them.
Chapter Forty-Two
Now
Weymouth, Dorset
‘Do you think Jack will have much trouble securing the papers in those filing cabinets?’ Rachel asks as she pulls up outside my flat.
‘He didn’t seem to think so,’ I admit with a long yawn. ‘He was on the phone to DCS Rawani when I left him at the ambulance, and Rawani isn’t the sort of man who takes no for an answer. It wouldn’t surprise me if the files didn’t arrive at Uxbridge nick by the end of the day with a gift bow wrapped around them.’
‘You look exhausted,’ Rachel says, applying the handbrake. ‘Are you sure you don’t want me to come in with you?’
I smile gratefully, and pat her hand. ‘That’s kind of you, but I don’t want to make you any later for your date with Daniella tonight. I said I could have caught a train from Newbury; you really didn’t have to drive me all the way back, only to turn around and head for London.’
‘Family before friends, remember? Besides, you’re the perfect excuse for avoiding what probably won’t be a telling off from my ex. She’ll probably bring a restraining order with her, telling me to back the hell off.’
I offer a sympathetic grimace. ‘It might not be nearly as bad as you assume; you don’t know this isn’t her attempt to win you back.’
‘And I think you should stick to writing crime rather than romantic fiction, Emma. Know where your strengths are, and rely on them.’
There’s a tone of indignant resignation in her voice, and no amount of gentle cajoling will convince her that tonight’s rendezvous with Daniella will end any way but acrimoniously. I hope for both of their sakes she’s wrong. Maybe there is more of a romantic side to me than I’m prepared to admit.
‘Anyway, it’s not like there’s anywhere for me to properly park. The beach is manic here today.’
She isn’t wrong, and staring out across the road to the beachfront, I can hardly see the shoreline for all the sun worshippers. What I would give for the innocence of not knowing how many monsters are out there preying on the innocent children splashing in the sea and building sandcastles. For all I know, there is someone on that beach right now looking the wrong way or planning to snatch a child in the same way Aurélie was snatched from Worthing thirteen years ago.
‘Will you phone me and let me know how you get on?’ I say to Rachel as I tug on the door handle.
‘Of course I will,’ she says, giving me a quick hug. ‘If you need me to have a word with Jack too, you only have to say.’
‘Jack?’ I ask, puzzled. ‘What about Jack?’
‘Oh please,’ she smirks, ‘you’ve had a face like a bee has stung it all day. I saw how annoyed you looked when he turned up in the same car as Cavendish this morning. So what if they slept together last night? It doesn’t mean he isn’t sweet on you. You said yourself that you were keeping things professional while you carried on your investigation, so you can’t hold it against him if he gave in to an old flame offering herself – he is a guy, after all.’
Has my face really reflected my mood all day? I thought I’d done a better job of keeping my annoyance hidden; I wonder if he too witnessed it.
‘He’s definitely still sweet on you, Emma, and as much as you don’t want to admit it, you’re sweet on him too. It’s only a matter of time until the two of you admit how you feel about each other. You’ll see.’
Flashing her a frown, I climb out and wave her off before turning to move to my flat. I hadn’t noticed that Cavendish had been sitting at a table of the café just along the road, but she is now making a beeline for me, and I don’t like the scowl she’s wearing. She couldn’t have overheard our conversation, but something has riled her.
‘Where’ve you been?’ she demands without a hello.
‘Newbury, as it happens. Jack and I think we may have made a breakthrough with our investigation into the videos found on Arthur Turgood’s laptop.’
‘Oh really? So you haven’t spent the afternoon with Aurélie Lebrun then?’
It’s an accusation rather than a question, and one that instantly puts me on the back foot.
‘No; I haven’t seen her since we left the hotel this morning. Why, has something happened?’
She eyes me suspiciously, as if trying to read my mind. ‘A four-year-old girl was abducted from a playground in Poole earlier today, by a man in his sixties and a woman in her early twenties. The vehicle they fled the scene in was later found crashed and the male driver, who died at the scene, was identified as Jasper Derwent. Witnesses placed Aurélie at the scene with the child, but they slipped away before the emergency services got there.’
I’m hoping my gaping mouth and obvious shock at this revelation convince her that this is all news to me. I have so many questions, but I don’t know where to begin.
‘I need to find Aurélie as soon as possible, and I am asking you directly: has she been in touch?’
‘No,’ I snap. ‘Do you really think I would harbour her after something like that? Check my phone if you don’t believe me.’
To my surprise, she holds her hand out, expecting me to hand the phone over. With nothing to hide, I acquiesce.
‘Very well,’ Cavendish sighs, after an extensive search of my messages and call history. ‘If she does reach out to you again, I want you to call me immediately. My primary concern is the safety of the child in her possession, and then we will deal with how she came into contact with Derwent and why she didn’t inform us.’
I accept my phone back, and drop it into my satchel. ‘Do you think she’s been in contact with Derwent this whole time?’
Cavendish narrows her eyes. ‘What makes you say that?’
It’s a fair question, and I can’t quite place my finger on why I asked it. ‘There’s been something about this whole thing from the start, don’t you think? All so staged, like someone was putting together one of those Sunday-night serial crime dramas on the television.’
Cavendish considers the statement, but doesn’t disagree. ‘Will you phone me if she makes contact?’
‘Absolutely, but I’d have thought I’d be the last person she’d come to; we didn’t exactly end things on the best terms earlier, after she accused my sister of conspiring with the enemy.’
‘Mmm, I thought you looked cross when I last saw you. I thought it was because Jack was with me last night.’
It’s clearly a dig, an effort to get a rise out of me, and it takes all my restraint to hold back.
‘Who and what Jack gets up to in his spare time is none of my concern.’
‘Good, because I wouldn’t want there to be any animosity between us because of my relationship with him. We have a lot in common, and we’ve known each other for a long time; it was inevitable that we’d be drawn to each other again. You see that, don’t you?’
My cheeks are burning with anger, and it wouldn’t surprise me if smoke was billowing from my ears like in a cartoon. ‘As I said, Jack’s love life is none of my concern; he’s merely a colleague.’
‘Yeah, that’s pretty much what he said too. Good. So you’ll call me if Aurélie turns up?’
I nod again, relieved that the interrogation is over. I remain where I am until she’s pulled away before fishing into my satchel and removing my house keys. I have only one thing on my mind right now, and it’s frozen and living in the freezer. I have every intention of devouring the entire container of salted caramel swirl this evening, finishing it off with a large glass of Rachel’s expensive wine.
I’ve just put my key into the lock when a voice saying my name causes me to spin round instantly. There before me is Aurélie, clutching the hand of a young girl who is eating an ice-cream cone.
‘Please, Emma,’ Aurélie says, ‘I need to talk.’
Placing the mug of tea on the table before her, I sit in the chair opposite, and blow on the rim of my own mug. The child – Crystal apparently – is still devouring her ice-cream cone with the television in the living room distracting her.
‘You do realise I need to phone the police,’ I caution. ‘DS Cavendish literally ordered me to do that, seconds before you said my name.’
‘I know,’ she nods, ‘but I wanted to explain myself to you first; you deserve that.’
Crystal seems content in the living room, and from a brief examination she doesn’t appear to have suffered any harm. I desperately want to phone someone to let her foster parents know she is safe and well, but the terror and upset in Aurélie’s eyes convince me to hold back.
‘I never met your sister,’ she says after a beat. ‘I made that bit up. The girl in the picture that you showed me was never present at the auctions. The actions I described to you – keeping the other children in order, helping to talk children into coming away from their parents – those were my actions, not your sister’s. I’m ashamed of everything I did in the last few years, and I have no defence. I knew in my heart that what I was doing was wrong, but I was eager to please Jasper. I knew that if I obeyed, then I wouldn’t be hurt, and I would have done anything to survive. That’s the bit that nobody can understand until they’ve been in that situation: collaboration is the only means of survival. My ancestors did it in the 1940s, and I witnessed first-hand what would become of me if I dared to resist. Your Jemima Hooper: I saw what happened to her because she dared to escape. I tried to warn her – I really did – but she refused to listen.’
I should probably be recording the conversation, but I have a feeling I will never forget a single word of what she is telling me; it will haunt my dreams forever.
‘The girl in the other room – Crystal – she’s your daughter?’
Aurélie nods. ‘Apparently so. Jasper said I was to insist on a DNA test to prove it, but I don’t think I will make such a request; what life can a broken woman like me offer her? I have spent most of my life in the shadows, but she got the clean break I never did, and I don’t have the heart to drag her back in. I’m grateful I’ve had the opportunity to spend a few hours in her company, but hopefully she won’t recall much of this experience as she grows up. It is better if she doesn’t know the horror that led to her place in this world; I owe her that much.’
‘You shouldn’t blame yourself for everything that’s happened,’ I say sympathetically. ‘It is a widely acknowledged fact that people who sustain the level of trauma and pressure that you have can become susceptible to suggestion. Stockholm Syndrome is a psychological response to that: when hostages or abuse victims bond with their captors or abusers. A psychological connection can develop over days, weeks or months. It’s hardly surprising, considering the years of captivity and abuse you suffered. Over time, some victims can develop positive feelings toward their captors. Did that happen between you and Jasper Derwent?’
Aurélie nods again, this time tears escaping.
‘You can’t blame yourself for this, Aurélie. It is a coping mechanism to yield to the abuses and demands of your captor. A level of understanding develops between victim and abuser; their goals become your goals, and their feelings of negativity towards authority figures like the police become your own feelings of negativity. You have suffered an enormous psychological trauma, and you will need help to overcome it and find a way back, but DS Cavendish and the police authorities will be able to provide that for you. And even if they don’t, I’m sure your parents will offer any and all support you need.’
I pass Aurélie a box of tissues, and she duly wipes her eyes and nose. ‘I wish there was more I could do to help you find your sister, but Jasper was the only name I knew. Men came and went, but I never saw any faces. When I would help him, he would always make me stay out of the way when he spoke with other people like him. I was his and his alone, and he would not share me with anyone else.’
‘I need to phone DS Cavendish and let her know that you are here, and that Crystal is safe. Okay?’
She nods, and asks to use the bathroom. I point it out while dialling Cavendish’s number. ‘You were right,’ I say into the phone when it connects. ‘She showed up.’
‘I knew it! Is she still there now?’
‘Yes, and so is the little girl. She’s perfectly well, eating ice-cream and watching television.’
