The Locker by Adrian Magson

the rear gate. “There’s a minicam covering the lane and others on the sides and front. I saw you coming but the rain killed some of the detail.” She brushed moisture off her face. “Which reminds me, can we get inside? I don’t want to push my luck and catch pneumonia.”
    They walked inside, Gina turning to scan the rear garden before following and closing the door. It was done smoothly and Ruth decided to try and get Vaslik on-side about her. Just because he had high standards and some women didn’t seem to figure, it wasn’t fair riding her because she’d got herself shot.
    The kitchen had been turned into an observation room. Two monitors sat on the work surface, each with a split screen linked to separate cameras. The pictures were good apart from the rain, but clear enough to give adequate warning of an intruder.
    Nancy was waiting for them in the living room, body as tight as a bow-string . She stepped forward to greet Ruth, face open to receive news. She looked fragile, as if the intervening hours since they had last spoken were draining her of vitality.
    â€œHave you found anything?”
    â€œNot yet.” Ruth glanced at Vaslik but he gave a minute shake of his head. She still hadn’t decided whether to tell her about the deserted shop in Queensway; finding out that her husband’s supposed charity base was empty might be enough to undermine her world even further. At worst it would prove nothing except that the charity was a fake.
    And that her husband had lied to her.

thirteen
    â€œI’m sorry to do this. It must seem pointless but I want to go over a few things with you.” Ruth took the armchair while Vaslik stood by the front window. Gina was watching the CCTV monitors in between patrolling the house, automatically trying door and window handles and noting any movement outside.
    â€œWhat sort of things?” Nancy was on the settee clutching Beth’s teddy, Homesick, against her tummy. Ruth was shocked by how fragile she looked, and asked if she should call a doctor. But Nancy wouldn’t hear of it.
    â€œI’m fine. Just tired, that’s all. What do you want to know?”
    â€œI’m trying to understand what the link is between your husband and why Beth would have been taken. There’s clearly a connection and we need to isolate that if we stand any chance of finding out who took her and why.”
    Nancy shook her head, her eyes strained with exhaustion, and Ruth wondered if some sleeping tablets would work. She might speak to the tame doctor Cruxys kept on call. “But why should it involve Michael? It could be anything or nothing. These things are so random, aren’t they?”
    Ruth went over the words on the card again. “I’ve seen kidnap notes before, Nancy. Some in live situations, lots of real examples used in training. They all follow a similar format and carry the same message: it’s usually We’ve taken someone of value to you and Don’t tell the authorities. If not immediately, there’s usually a follow-on shortly afterwards saying what they want in return.”
    â€œIsn’t that what this one says—not to tell the police?”
    â€œYes. But that’s not all. It tells you that they’ve taken your daughter, but there’s no demand. No phone calls, no follow-on communication, nothing. However, there is one difference: they tell you to tell your husband. Believe me, that’s significant.” She paused to let that sink in, although by the way Nancy’s eyes were fluttering, she wasn’t certain it was making much headway.
    â€œThe punctuation is very specific,” she continued. “It says Do NOT call the police. DO tell your husband. Two seemingly separate statements but meaning one thing: they want Michael to know what’s happened. That’s so pointed it has to be for a reason, don’t you think?”
    There was no response, merely a