Читать книгу In Safe Hands: A D.C.I Anna Tate thriller that will have you on the edge of your seat - J. Carter P. - Страница 7

It was a quiet morning so Detective Chief Inspector Anna Tate was taking the opportunity to get to grips with the pile of paperwork on her desk. There were witness statements, forensic reports, and dozens of crime scene photographs.

All the documents and pictures related to the eleven ongoing cases that were being dealt with by the Major Investigation Team based in Wandsworth, South London.

The team were making slow progress on most of them, partly because they had run out of leads and partly because resources were almost at breaking point. But it was the same story all across London, which had been hit by a perfect storm of soaring crime and police manpower cuts.

For Anna the quiet days were the hardest because she had too much time to dwell on the personal issues that made her life so difficult. This morning her thoughts kept switching between her troubled past and the argument she’d had the previous evening with Tom over their future together.

It was why she was finding it difficult to concentrate on the file she was currently wading through. This one dealt with the murder of a teenage girl in Battersea. Her body had been found four months ago and they were still no nearer to finding her killer.

Anna sighed as she picked up a photograph of the girl’s body lying in a narrow alley. She’d been badly beaten and sexually assaulted, and it had happened only three days before her sixteenth birthday.

Anna was still staring at the photo half a minute later when her office door was thrust open and Detective Inspector Max Walker came rushing in. His face was pinched and tense and his bald head was shiny with perspiration.

He held up a sheet of paper and said, ‘We’ve got a live one, guv. Call just came in and it sounds pretty serious.’

Anna was at once alert. Even though he was still in his early thirties, Walker was one of the most experienced members of her team, and he was not prone to exaggeration.

‘There’s an ongoing incident at a nursery school in Peabody Street, Rotherhithe,’ he said. ‘Three men with guns entered the place and locked the all-female staff in a storeroom. There are four of them and one has been badly beaten.’

Anna jumped to her feet.

‘Who called it in?’

‘One of the women from inside the room. She used a phone the men didn’t know they had.’

‘Jesus. If it’s a nursery then there must be children.’

Walker nodded. ‘There are nine kids apparently, but the staff have no idea what’s happening to them because they were put into another room.’

Anna felt her chest contract as the adrenalin fizzed through her veins.

‘Have shots been fired?’ she asked.

Walker shook his head. ‘Not so far.’

‘Thank God for that.’ She grabbed her jacket from the back of her chair. ‘We’d better get over there fast.’

Minutes later they were in an unmarked pool car that was among dozens of police vehicles from all over South London converging on the Peabody Nursery School in Rotherhithe. Walker was driving while Anna concentrated on the constant stream of updates over the radio.

She learned that an armed response team was being dispatched and that the three men who had descended on the nursery had posed as detectives from Rotherhithe CID.

She also took a call on her phone from her boss, Detective Chief Superintendent Bill Nash.

‘I’ve just been told what’s going down,’ he said. ‘I’m in a meeting at the Yard so I’ll be monitoring the situation from here. Meanwhile, you’re authorised to assume the role of senior investigating officer. Everyone will know by the time you get there.’

‘Thank you, sir,’ Anna said. ‘I’ll keep you posted.’

Information was continuing to come from the woman who had called it in. She’d identified herself as Sarah Ramsay, the owner and manager of the nursery. The emergency operator had kept her on the line so that she was effectively providing a running commentary. But what she had to say was useful only up to a point. She didn’t know if the armed men were still on the premises or if the children were being held hostage.

Not knowing what to expect when they got there was causing Anna’s stomach to twist with grim apprehension.

‘We should be there in under ten minutes, guv,’ Walker said as he stamped on the accelerator, propelling them through a set of red lights with the siren blaring.

Anna did a Google search for the Peabody Nursery in Rotherhithe. She discovered that it was one of a chain of half a dozen Peabody Nurseries across London that catered for children between the ages of three and five. The one in Rotherhithe was the first, hence the name of the chain. There were exterior photos of the single-storey building and the bright and cheerful rooms inside.

It had its own website that described it as a school where parents could ‘leave their little ones in the knowledge that they would always be safe and secure’.

Anna reflected on the horrible irony of this statement as Walker steered them through the traffic at breakneck speed. She could no longer distinguish whether the pulsing in her ears and the hard pounding in her chest were caused by the shrill siren of the police car, or the sheer dread she felt as they got closer to Rotherhithe. Anna swallowed hard as she gripped the corner of her seat, concentrating on the road in front of her and pushing thoughts of what they might find when they reached their destination to the back of her mind.