Chapter 91

Chapter 91

‘Is he talking?'

Charlie's question was earnest, impassioned.

‘You bet he is,' Helen replied darkly. ‘He's not going to give us everything straightaway, but Graham Armstrong knows he's done for now. His only hope is to co-operate, in the hope of obtaining a lighter sentence. Honestly, I'm not sure it's going to wash, given the severity of his crimes, but he's got no other option.'

Charlie nodded purposefully, exhaling slowly, realizing now that she'd been holding her breath whilst awaiting Helen's response. The arrest of Graham Armstrong was potentially a game-changer, so much hanging on whether he co-operated or not, and she was profoundly relieved that this reptile had chosen to do the right thing.

The pair of them were closeted away together in the station's viewing suite, a technician sitting close by, silent but attentive. Charlie felt a little awkward discussing such sensitive matters in front of him, but she had no choice. The clock was ticking.

‘What's he coughed to so far?' she asked.

‘He's admitted that he was the main driver behind the whole thing, organizing "live" sessions for paying customers. Apparently it was a very profitable business, they even had a waiting list …'

Charlie grimaced, sickened by the thought of such depravity.

‘And will he give up Reynolds?'

‘Looks that way. He claims he paid Reynolds large sums of cash to abduct, imprison, then abuse teenage girls on demand. Used to send the cash in a jiffy bag to a PO box in Harefield, in order to conceal the transaction.'

‘Have we got enough, then? To charge Reynolds, I mean?'

‘Probably, but I'd like to look at the footage first. Though "like" might be the wrong word …'

She nodded at the screen, pulling a face. Charlie knew exactly how she felt. The idea of watching a young girl being assaulted turned her stomach, especially as she had two little ones herself.

‘Ready?'

Charlie nodded in response to Helen's question, though in truth she wasn't.

‘OK, run it please,' Helen intoned sombrely.

The technician obliged and suddenly the screen sprang into life. The recording revealed a messy, dirty room, with bare boards and crumbling brickwork, a scattering of building equipment lying in the background. The foreground was powerfully lit, a neat circle of illumination, which for the moment remained empty. Charlie leaned forward, taking in the details, attempting to see if she could ‘place' the setting, but her interrogation was interrupted now by voices off camera. She strained to hear, but couldn't make out the words. She could, however, read the tone – the man's voice was rough and brutish, the girl's anguished and fearful. Now suddenly the two figures came into view, a teenager in a grey tracksuit and a tall man in dirty jeans and a T-shirt. Stepping forward, the man gripped his prisoner by the neck, turning her round to face the camera. Pinioned, in pain, Naomi Watson blinked at the camera, terrified, powerless.

‘Dear God,' Charlie said, putting her hand to her mouth.

The man was barking at her now, but Charlie couldn't take in the details, her attention fixed on Naomi's protests, her doomed attempts to resist. Her captor was having none of it, moving forward angrily and tugging her jumper off.

Charlie wanted it to stop, didn't want to see the outrage that she knew was about to follow, but as ever, Helen was focused purely on the evidence.

‘Is that definitely him?' she demanded urgently. ‘Is that Reynolds?'

Wrenching her attention away from the unfolding horror, Charlie took in the toned, athletic figure.

‘Looks the right build, right height, and he's got a tattoo or something on his right arm.'

Charlie tried to focus on the man's arm, but he was in constant motion as he worked swiftly to expose the trembling girl to the camera. Frustratingly his head remained out of shot, presumably by design.

‘Slow it down a bit …' Helen suggested.

The technician obliged, the awful scene playing out in slow-mo. And now they both saw it, Naomi's attacker leaning down to force her to remove her jogging bottoms.

‘There,' Helen cried out.

The screen froze on command, the trio staring at the image in front of them. It was a side angle on the abuser's face, but no one present was in any doubt as to his identity now.

‘That's him, that's Dave Reynolds!' Charlie virtually shouted, unable to contain herself.

She was relieved beyond measure that they didn't have to watch any more, turning to Helen swiftly with a follow-up question.

‘So what now?'

‘Look at the time code,' Helen replied quickly, directing her deputy's attention to the bottom of the screen. ‘If it's accurate, it proves that Naomi was still alive two days ago, in some local basement. Obviously we need to throw everything at finding her. I'd like you to take the lead on that.'

‘Of course.'

‘And Reynolds?'

‘Well, it's time to bring him in,' Helen replied fervently, her eye drifting to the frozen face on the screen in front of her. ‘We've got enough evidence here to put that bastard away for a very, very long time.'