Chapter 3

DS Penrose sat with WPC Grant and a female colleague from the forensics division, studying the analysis of the two laptops that she'd recently inspected.

"The girl's computer was clean," the woman informed them. "Nothing significant in the browser cache, no suspicious email activity and no Instant Messenger usage at all as far as we can tell. The girl doesn't even seem to have a Facebook account."

"Okay," Penrose acknowledged. "Anything else?"

"The father's computer had a directory in which I discovered over a hundred gigabytes of hardcore pornography."

"Really?"

"There were a couple of installed programs that implied he harvests most of the stuff from the newsgroups."

"Anything actionable?"

"He's obviously developed a keen interest in bondage as there's a lot of fairly strong material of that genre. There's erotic fiction galore and some quite questionable Japanese anime that features kidnapped schoolgirls, amongst other things.

"As to whether we could prosecute, it's hard to say. Most of the material can be legally imported and the rest is freely available on the continent. There was no child porn."

"What's your recommendation?" Penrose asked.

"The material wasn't particularly well concealed. If I'd found applications like TrueCrypt on his machine then I'd have been more concerned. As it is, I suspect he's just your typical male pervert."

Penrose asked to see an example of what he'd found. The forensics technician opened up one of the files and selected a scene from the middle of the video. A naked woman lay bound and gagged on a bed while another woman dressed in a latex bodysuit fucked her with a strap-on dildo.

"Can I have a copy for the evidence file?" he asked, pulling a memory stick from out of his desk. The technician took the device and copied several files onto it from Pierce's laptop before leaving the detective and the policewoman alone.

"Don't start getting any ideas," Angela told him. "I pander to enough of your whims already."

"Fair enough," he replied disappointedly. "Return the laptops. I don't think there's anything here but I'll speak to Pierce, just to make doubly sure."

"Did you get anywhere with the ambulance?"

"Nothing so far. I've contacted all the private firms and none of them had any vehicles in the area last night. They don't generally pick up accident cases anyway."

"Do you think Pierce is lying?"

"That wasn't the impression he gave me. I think he probably saw what he thought was an ambulance. I've put out a general enquiry to other forces to see if they have any unsolved abductions with anything in common with our case?"

"Do you think it's definitely a kidnapping then?"

"It's still too early to be conclusive but the girl doesn't seem the type to wander off on her own, and all the people I've spoken to so far confirm the same picture of her: shy and unassuming."

"What should we tell the parents?" Angela asked.

"Nothing yet. Give it another day."

"The only reason I ask is that the mother's name generated a hit on our system."

"She's got a criminal record?"

"No, she's a victim."

"Tell me what you found."

Angela read from an entry in her notebook. "Joanna Hall, aged fourteen. Abducted, along with school friend Jennifer Bristow, in June 1991 by escaped mental patient Peter Collins. He subjected them to over a week of sexual abuse before they were eventually rescued by police after a neighbour reported hearing sounds of children crying from what was supposedly an empty property."

"Where's Collins now?"

"Still in Broadmoor as far as I'm aware."

"We'd better check, just to make sure."

"Right."

"If we hear nothing from Amanda by the weekend, we'll need to go public. Have a word with the local TV station and see if we can get a slot on the evening news. Somebody must have seen something."

Angela paused. "Jim," she asked tentatively, "did you get a chance to speak with the Superintendent?"

"I did", Penrose sighed. "He's looking at your case, but I think he feels you need more experience before he makes the role permanent."

"I've been doing it for six months. Did he give you any idea how much longer?"

"He's reading my weekly assessments and he's really pleased with your progress. You've been absolutely great these past couple of months."

"In work or in bed?"

"Both." He grinned. "I'm singing your praises to the Super. Stop worrying, I guarantee you'll make Detective Constable within a year."

"Thanks, Jim. I love this new job so much. I don't think I could stand having to go back on the beat."

"Won't you miss the uniform?"

"I could still wear it for you."

"Mmm," Jim purred, having become accustomed to the policewoman draped across his duvet wearing lacy stockings and suspender belt beneath her regulation uniform.

Penrose walked across the local park towards the children's play area and sat down on a bench opposite the swings. A balding middle-aged man in a long coat was already seated.

"Good morning, Mister Penrose."

"Morning, Chalky. How's things?"

"Mustn't grumble, Mister Penrose."

"Getting used to life on the outside?"

"It's a right pain having to cook all my own meals again."

"Don't tell me you actually like prison food."

"You get used to it. The chicken curry on Thursdays was a real delight."

"Should you be hanging around the playground?"

"I'm a reformed character, Mister Penrose. My psychologist Miss Chambers says so."

"Well, it must be true then." Penrose shook his head in disbelief.

Gordon White had been cautioned countless times for exposing himself to teenage girls. He'd eventually served nine months of a two-year custodial sentence and earned a permanent presence on the sex offender's register. Penrose had sent a statement of support to the court, reducing his sentence as the man had provided valuable intelligence on numerous occasions, helping him place several dangerous sexual predators behind bars.

Two young females walked in front of them. Tight blouses clung alluringly to their well-developed chests while their skirts stopped enticingly at mid-thigh. They balanced precariously on four-inch heels. Chalky's eyes tracked them until they were out of sight.

"What must their mothers be thinking?" Chalky ventured. "You might as well write 'Fuck Me' in marker pen across their backs."

"Glad to see you've not changed."

"I wouldn't hurt a fly, Mister Penrose. I just like to look, you know that."

"Indeed."

"What can I help you with today?"

"We've got a missing teenager. Quiet girl, nice family. She disappeared two nights ago. No sign of foul play but something doesn't quite smell right."

"The father," Chalky replied. "It's usually either the father or a friend of the family."

"I'm going to drop in on Dad later, but there's not much family living locally."

"I can ask around. Have you done the rounds?"

"I've been rattling a few cages but most of the local perverts have alibis that check out. We can do it electronically now as they all have to wear GPS bracelets."

"Thanks for putting a good word in for me. I managed to avoid getting saddled with one of those."

"I've missed your company these past few months, Chalky. Your insights on the murky world of paedophilia have proved invaluable."

"You've got to be one to know one, Mister Penrose."

Chalky had never tried to hide his attraction to young females but unlike many, he knew where to draw the line. "You've heard the rumour of course?"

"Which one's that?" Penrose asked.

"That there's a secret organisation that can kidnap a girl to order and turn her into the perfect sexual plaything."

"We've all heard it and even looked into it and found nothing to support the fact that it's even possible, let alone that people are actually doing it. It's like snuff movies, nothing but urban myth."

Chalky stood up and prepared to depart. Penrose reached into his pocket and handed over two twenty pound notes. "There'll be more if you provide anything worthwhile."

"Right you are, Mister Penrose. I'll do my best."

Penrose watched him amble off, then sat in quiet contemplation for a few minutes before making his way to see Amanda's father.