Friendless Lane Read online

  ‘Do you remember when you told Jack that Khalid Hussain looked familiar?’ said Lilly.

  Kelsey didn’t answer, so Lilly navigated towards the Field High School website. She found the picture of Hussain and turned the screen to Kelsey.

  ‘Him. You said he looked familiar.’

  ‘Yeah, well he did.’

  ‘Turns out he’s not one of Gem’s killers,’ said Lilly. ‘Or at least his DNA wasn’t found on her body.’

  Kelsey ran her thumb over the scar around her mouth, moving her jaw up and down in a rhythmic motion.

  ‘I never said I was definite.’

  ‘I know,’ said Lilly.

  ‘You told Jack that it wouldn’t stand up in court or nothing.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘So why are you asking me all this?’ Kelsey’s eyes were wide and pleading. ‘Why are you blaming me?’

  ‘No one’s blaming you, Kelsey,’ said Lilly. ‘I just want you to take another look at him and think where you might have seen him.’

  Kelsey’s eyes flicked to Hussain, then quickly away. ‘I don’t know nothing.’

  ‘I think you do.’ Lilly tilted the screen back. ‘This man had something to do with Gem’s death, even if he didn’t kill her himself, and now he’s linked to another girl going missing.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘A fourteen-year-old kid.’

  Kelsey’s jaw stopped moving and her thumb dropped. She finally looked down at the image of Hussain.

  ‘Like I said, he’s familiar, but not like I know him.’

  ‘You’re not making any sense,’ said Lilly.

  Kelsey put her three middle fingers over Hussain’s forehead, like a sideways salute. ‘It’s more that he looks like someone I know. The same nose and that. It’s as if he should have hair in his eyes, like this.’

  Lilly looked at Hussain partially covered by Kelsey’s dry and grazed fingers, and it hit her like a sucker punch. Why hadn’t she seen it before?

  Khalid Hussain resembled the man outside Orlando’s, the man who had rapped on her window. It wasn’t an uncanny likeness, but it was definitely there.

  [#]

  Lilly had no trouble finding Jack; he was standing in the police station car park, the wind whipping his tie over his shoulder, staring mournfully after a car that was pulling away.

  He saw her and gave a weak smile.

  ‘That was Hussain,’ he said.

  She whipped her head round to look at the car. ‘You let him go?’

  ‘I had no choice.’

  ‘But he probably knows where Velvet is,’ she said. ‘He probably knows who killed Gem.’

  ‘Aye.’

  ‘You’ve got to follow him.’ Lilly watched the car turn right into the high street and disappear from view. ‘He might lead you to the right people.’

  Jack shivered in the cold. ‘His solicitor’s already put in a complaint about me. If I push things any further, I’ll be up on a harassment charge.’

  ‘But Kelsey and I looked at the Field High website again,’ said Lilly. ‘We think we know—’

  Jack put his hands on her shoulders. ‘Stop it, Lilly. I’ve had my orders.’

  ‘Since when do you follow orders?’

  ‘Since it was made clear to me that my job was on the line,’ he replied. ‘Don’t try to guilt-trip me, please. Trust me, today could not get any worse.’

  She was about to argue when his mobile rang. He sighed, released her and answered it. The look on his face was unequivocal and the blood drained from his cheeks. By the look of things, his day had just got very much worse.

  Chapter 10

  You want to go home.

  You want to curl up in your bed and breathe in the smell of your clean pillowcase. You want to lie there and stare into space, listening to the sound of your mum cooking tea in the kitchen.

  You never realized how grateful you should be for that room. Being truthful, you do nothing but whinge about it. A poky room in a poky house in a poky street.

  Mum’s explained about a million times why you had to move.

  ‘It’s no one’s fault,’ she kept saying. ‘We just have to make the best of it.’

  But you couldn’t make the best of it. You missed your old house and your old room with its en-suite bathroom and shelves stuffed with books you never read.

  ‘I like it,’ your sister said. ‘It’s cosy.’

  Well it’s easy for her to be cheerful when she’s away at university most of the time, but you’ll never get good enough grades to go to college, will you? You’ll be stuck in the poky house for ever.

  Right now you’d give anything to be in that little bedroom with its worn carpets and the sound of lorries thundering past on the A5.

  ‘Do you want to go home?’ you ask Leah.

  She’s in her usual spot on the sofa, watching the telly.

  ‘What?’ Her voice is slurred. She’s been drinking all day. When she finishes her glass, she trips into the kitchen and fills it up again. ‘What d’you say?’

  ‘Do you want to go home?’ you repeat.

  She looks at you, her eyes all droopy and red-rimmed.

  ‘Not really,’ she says.

  ‘What about your mum? Don’t you want to see her?

  She shrugs and takes another gulp of vodka and orange.

  ‘She’s busy,’ she says.

  ‘Busy doing what?’ you ask.

  ‘Got a new bloke and that.’

  ‘But it must still be better than being here,’ you say.

  She stares at you as if you’ve just met and she’s trying to weigh you up. Then she turns back to her programme.

  ‘It’s not that bad here,’ she says.

  ‘What?’

  ‘I get food, I get drink, I get weed whenever I want it,’ she says. ‘They give me money for clothes and that.’

  ‘They make you have sex with them,’ you hiss at her.

  Leah gives a laugh that turns into a hiccup. ‘My stepdad makes me have sex with him, but he doesn’t give me anything for it. Anyway, what about you? You’re still here, I notice.’

  ‘What can I do?’ you ask. ‘I don’t have a phone I can use, and Raz just threatened to slice my face off.’

  Leah waves a hand at me. ‘He wouldn’t have cut you. He just got angry.’ She struggles to pull out her phone and hands it to you. ‘Look at this. Raz gave me it. Completely kosher, that is, no shitty knockoff.’

  She nods as if this is solid proof that Raz is a good man who’s looking out for her. Not so long ago, you thought that way too. You turn the phone over in your hand. It’s the same make as the one he gave you. The one Cal took away.

  ‘Not so bad here,’ says Leah, and her eyes begin to close. ‘Not so …’

  Her head droops and her mouth goes slack. When her breathing evens out, you slide the phone into your back pocket.

  [#]

  Lauren Stringer didn’t tell anyone where she was going. It was against all the rules of best practice, but she was prepared to take a bollocking if it came to that.

  The sat nav in her car directed her away from the town centre and out into the countryside. The villages had pretty names and the roads became single track. When she had kids, she’d live somewhere like this. A chocolate-box cottage surrounded by trees and fields so they could breathe real air. Kyle said he was a dyed-in-the-wool townie and couldn’t be out of spitting distance of his beloved Luton Town FC, but she’d get round him. She could always get round him.

  The sat nav told her she was three miles away from the address she’d been given. It had been scribbled on a piece of paper by someone in Traffic.

  The rest of the team wouldn’t risk the wrath of the Chief Super, who had made it abundantly clear that Khalid Hussain was untouchable. Bugger that for a game of soldiers. She hadn’t joined the force to let people like that walk away scot free.

  To be fair, she’d requested Control to keep all eyes open for his car before the Chief Super had swooped in with his order
s. It wasn’t as if she’d deliberately set out to disobey him.

  It was a bit of luck that anything had come of it, to be honest. Someone in Traffic had been following a nicked motorbike and been led out of town. He’d been way off his beat but enjoying the chase. That is until he’d hit a sharp bend and dinged the squad car.

  He might still never have seen the BMW, though, if he hadn’t got out to survey the damage.

  Lauren laughed to herself. A bit of luck. Like Jack always said, every investigation needed it.

  The track narrowed. If she met an oncoming vehicle, it would be difficult to pass. She’d have to reverse the best part of two hundred yards. Fortunately, the place was deserted. A bit too quiet, even for her tastes. If you lived this far out, how would you even get to the pub?

  She had thought about telling someone what she was doing. But who?

  The boss was already up to his neck in it. Hussain’s brief was making all sorts of allegations about racism. The only other person she’d considered had been Byron. Trouble was, he was an out-and-out flirt. She could deal with him at the nick, but just the two of them in a car? It would wear pretty thin. It didn’t mean anything. He knew she was getting married in July.

  July. Only four months away and there was still so much to organize. A dress, for one thing. Something classic, but definitely not fussy. Lauren Stringer would not walk down the aisle in a meringue.

  ‘Your destination is ahead,’ the sat nav informed her.

  ‘Why thank you,’ Lauren replied.

  She drove a little further, around a blind bend flanked by a ditch on one side and a steep bank on the other, and there it was. Hussain’s car. She didn’t even need to check the licence plate. Having spent God knows how many hours collating the CCTV footage, she’d recognize it anywhere.

  It was parked in a rough passing space and there was just enough room for her to squeeze through. She parked in front of it and got out. The car was empty and there was no sign of Hussain or anyone else in the lane. Up ahead, through the trees, she thought she might be able to make out a house.

  The wind was bitterly cold, but she was too excited to worry. She’d found the car. She’d only bloody well found the car. Trying the driver’s-side door, she considered what to do now. Should she call it in? She could say it was abandoned. It certainly looked it. Once they got it to the pound, she was sure Jack would find a way to get Forensics to have a look at it.

  ‘Is there a problem, love?’

  Lauren looked up. A man had arrived at the scene, and she hadn’t heard a thing. He was Asian, mid twenties, handsome, wrapped up against the cold in a navy coat. She reached into her pocket and pulled out her warrant.

  ‘Is this your car, sir?’

  His eyes checked her ID and the corners of his mouth twisted. ‘Police?’

  ‘That’s right, sir. Could you answer my question, please. Is this your vehicle?’

  He shook his head. ‘Nah.’

  ‘So what are you doing here, sir?’

  The man took a step forward. He smelled of a lemony aftershave, expensive. She was forever trying to get Kyle to wear stuff like that, but he always said he wasn’t a girl.

  ‘Could you stay where you are, sir,’ said Lauren, ‘and tell me what you’re doing here.’

  ‘Me?’ He gave a small laugh. ‘I’m just walking. That’s not a crime, is it?’

  He took another step towards her and Lauren knew she’d made a massive mistake. The rules of best practice were there for a reason. She reached into her belt for her baton, but the man was already upon her.

  She didn’t see the knife, but she felt it. Cold at first, as the blade pierced her stomach, then hot, so hot, as he dragged it across. She looked down to see the bright red blood pumping out of her, spilling down on to her thighs. The smell was strong, metallic.

  As she fell to her knees, she thought about her wedding day. She needed to email the caterer and tell him how many vegetarians would be attending. She slumped forward into the mud, feeling broken rock scratching her cheeks. She might make an appointment with a make-up artist too. It was her big day after all.

  She should get up, call the station, but she was so very tired. She closed her eyes, just for a second, and let the velvety darkness wash over her.

  [#]

  Lilly knew she shouldn’t be doing this, but what choice did she have? Jack had made it plain that he wasn’t going to pursue Hussain or the man who was using his car. Then he’d rushed off to ‘sort something out’. She couldn’t imagine what could be more urgent than catching a killer …

  She parked across the street and made her way towards Field High School. A high metal fence, painted royal blue, stretched right along the street. She skirted it until she found an entrance.

  The school itself was squat and square. To the right was a series of Portakabins, temporary classrooms built more than ten years ago, waiting patiently to be replaced. She found a door marked Reception and buzzed to be let in.

  Her plan, if it could be called a plan, was to ask after Khalid Hussain and see if she could glean any information. Chances were, the school would tell her absolutely nothing, but at least she would have tried.

  A middle-aged woman with short curly hair answered the door with a smile. She wore a pea-green polo neck stretched over her chest, which jutted out like a shelf.

  ‘Are you here for the tour?’ she asked Lilly.

  Lilly was about to explain the reason for her visit when she heard herself say that yes, she was here for the tour.

  ‘Follow me,’ said the woman and waddled ahead. Each of her steps made a soft creak, and Lilly saw she was wearing Crocs.

  The woman stopped at a door and swiped a pass hanging from her neck. She held the door open to a room where two dozen people were congregating over tea and coffee.

  ‘Take a name badge from the table on the right,’ said the woman. ‘I think you’re a bit late for a drink; we’re about to start the tour.’

  ‘Not a problem,’ said Lilly.

  She made her way to the table on the right, where she found a couple of sheets of rectangular stickers. Most had already been taken, but there were still five or six left, a name scribbled across each one.

  She scanned them for something vaguely appropriate, discarded Abdul Al-Hanna, Omar Naeem and Li Ming Manchu. This left her with a choice of Robert Johnson or Rusty McCabe. She patted her pockets for a pen, hoping to add an ‘a’ and become Roberta, but the woman in Crocs was upon her.

  ‘Have you found yourself?’ she asked.

  Lilly smiled, peeled off the badge for Rusty McCabe and pressed it on to her lapel.

  ‘Excellent,’ said the woman and turned to the small gathering. ‘Can I have everyone’s attention, please.’

  A hush descended.

  ‘My name is Brenda Wheatley, and I’ll be showing you around Field High today.’ The security pass hung off her ample bosom, swinging in mid-air. ‘Obviously, this is a normal school day, so I would ask you to be quiet when lessons are in progress.’

  She squeaked out of the room and everyone filed after her. Lilly fell in at the back of the pack.

  They wandered along a corridor, the walls covered in posters warning pupils to avoid homophobic language, return library books on Wednesday mornings and wear safety goggles in the science labs. Inside one of the classrooms a teacher was yelling.

  A large African woman leant in to Lilly. ‘So, Rusty, does it remind you of your school days?’

  Lilly blinked for a second, until she remembered her alias. ‘Yes, it does a bit.’ She checked out the woman’s name tag: Penelope Kakosi. ‘My teachers were always shouting.’

  Penelope laughed, a big hearty sound. ‘Oh my word, I was always in trouble.’

  Brenda threw them a look and put her finger to her lips. When she turned around, both Lilly and Penelope put their hands over their mouths to stifle their giggles.

  ‘Stop now,’ Penelope hissed. ‘Or she will send a note to your parents.’

&nb
sp; Lilly’s giggles turned into fully fledged snorts. Brenda glared.

  ‘Oh my word.’ Penelope fanned herself with her hand. ‘Oh my word.’

  The tour snaked its way through corridor after corridor, stopping briefly to point out the staff room, the art studios and a plaque commemorating a visit by Dame Kelly Holmes. Lilly yawned, which elicited another hard stare from Brenda. She was about to give up the whole thing when she heard a familiar voice from the front.

  ‘Can we actually meet any teachers?’

  There was a murmur of assent from the others.

  Brenda looked outraged. ‘As I said earlier, this is a normal school day.’

  ‘Which is why it would be nice to see some of it.’

  Lilly craned her neck above the heads in front of her. She knew that voice. There was a flash of pale hair. Yes, it was her.

  ‘Do you have any department in mind?’ Brenda asked.

  ‘How about English?’

  Lilly pushed her way through until she was just behind the familiar figure of Julia Blythe.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ she whispered.

  Julia turned and her eyes opened in shock. ‘The same as you, I suspect. Having a snoop.’

  Lilly blushed. She could hardly deny it, wearing a badge declaring her to be Rusty McCabe.

  ‘I recognized the name you mentioned,’ said Julia. ‘Khalid Hussain. He taught Velvet last year.’

  ‘Velvet comes here!’

  Julia nodded.

  That meant that not only did Hussain have access to Gem, he also had access to Velvet. It was just too much of a coincidence.

  ‘Won’t he recognize you?’ Lilly asked.

  Julia shook her head. ‘I only met him the once.’

  They turned a corner. A sign above the swing doors read ‘English Department’. Brenda bustled through and they followed. The posters on the walls admonished pupils to refrain from chewing gum, using their mobile phones or running in the corridors. There were more rules here than in your average young offenders’ institution.

  Julia peered through the small window in the first door and gave Lilly a shake of the head. Lilly checked the next one, but the teacher was a small, ferrety woman in a pair of purple leggings. Julia tried the third and smiled.