Chapter 84

Chapter 84

He marched purposefully along the street, staring straight ahead of him, a man seemingly bent on getting home after a busy day's work. Passers-by nodded and smiled at him, reacting to the uniform, and David Reynolds returned the favour, even though in reality his attention was glued to the scene behind him, to the two casually dressed figures who were now dogging his heels on opposing sides of the street.

He'd been expecting nothing less. Grace had sufficient evidence, sufficient grounds for concern to have questioned him for longer, perhaps even to have extended his custody, but instead she had let him go. At first, he'd been buoyed up by this, swayed by his solicitor's conviction that the investigating officers had failed to land a punch, but as he walked from the station, cutting a swathe through fellow officers who avoided him like the plague, doubts began to set in. Grace was a formidable opponent, a woman who'd brought countless devious criminals to book, who never willingly let her opponents off the hook. Add to the mix the fact that this was personal for her, that she clearly loathed him, and there could be no question of her having thrown in the towel. Maybe she didn't have the evidence to charge him yet, but she would keep probing, keep digging, ramping up the pressure all the while. Hence the sudden appearance of his tails, who continued to shadow him, keeping a watchful eye on his progress.

They were presumably experienced officers and were handling their pursuit skillfully enough, the female officer laden down with shopping bags, her male counterpart talking animatedly on his phone, but Reynolds had been expecting them and they were easy to spot. When he slowed, casting an eye at their reflection in shop windows, they slowed. When he sped up, they responded. In a perverse way he almost enjoyed their presence, pleased to have clocked them so quickly, to be toying with them, pausing occasionally to tie up his shoe laces or consult his watch. But in truth, their pursuit made him feel distinctly uneasy, their constant scrutiny unnerving him.

He realized now how easy his life had been up until this point. Not his very early years, of course, they had been hateful and best forgotten, but since he first put on his police uniform, things had been plain sailing. He'd had close scrapes before that could have landed him in hot water, teenage girlfriends who'd promised much before suddenly attempting to withdraw their charms, but from the point that he'd graduated from Hendon, he'd never looked back. Girls love a man in uniform and they'd been easy to find, some of them seemingly very willing to comply with his particular tastes. Others had been more resistant, some even downright hostile, yet the respect and awe his badge inspired had kept him safe from harm, intimidating even the most defiant of his victims. Over the years, he'd got his speech down to a fine art and always enjoyed delivering it, watching his pointed threats, the promise of maximum shame and exposure, land on his playmates as they cowered half naked in the back of the police van.

Such was his invulnerability, his feeling of power, that in recent years he'd taken his interests a stage further. His first abduction had been ham-fisted and awkward for both parties, but since then he'd refined his technique, winning their trust, charming his victims, before striking. Only a few days ago, he'd felt set fair for life, congratulating himself on his good fortune, the fact that he could satisfy himself, whilst also turning a handsome profit. All without a single soul having a clue what he was up to, without the disappearance of his victims even occasioning a proper, sustained search. He had chosen wisely, acted carefully and continued to commit his crimes completely under the radar.

Until now. His targeting of Naomi Watson had been his undoing, her mother's persistence and Grace's obsessive interest combining to disastrous effect. Was it the bite mark on his hand that had given him away, that had aroused Grace's suspicions? Naomi had given it to him that first morning, when she'd fought him off, refusing to eat her breakfast. Had that been the signal to Helen to investigate? Was it Naomi herself who'd unwittingly brought all this heat down on him? Either way, it was clear now that the carefully constructed edifice of his double life was threatening to collapse, with potentially catastrophic consequences. There had been a moment when he thought he might get away with it, when he felt sure he could frame Ryan Marwood for the crime. But it had proved a fond hope, Grace slowly and methodically working her way towards the true culprit.

Would she ever give up? Would he ever manage to convince her, convince the world, that he'd been falsely accused? Her bearing in this morning's interview, the coiled energy and determination that she gave off, suggested not. As did the pair of shadows, who drifted in and out of view behind, without ever losing sight of him. Was that his fate now? To be spied on, followed, pursued? Invisible and invincible for so long, David Reynolds felt the wheel of fortune beginning to turn. For years, he'd had the wind on his back, the sun on his face, but now at long last, he felt the net beginning to close.