Chapter Sixty-Nine

I ran up the drive towards Frankie’s front door. His Vespa was outside, pulled up onto its stand by the front door. I didn’t knock, just twisted on the handle and ran inside.

‘Frankie!’

There was silence.

‘Frankie?’

I was met by silence again, but then I heard a sound, like the creak of a door. It was coming from upstairs.

I sprinted up the first flight, pausing when I reached the landing. I looked around, tried to work out where the sound had come from. The house seemed still. Maybe it had just been the wind in an old draughty building.

Then I heard it again. Just the creak of a floorboard. Upstairs once more. Frankie’s room.

I ran again, two steps at a time, onto the small landing, and then rushed into his room. Frankie was sitting in a chair, looking out of the window. He turned and smiled at me.

‘You are in my house,’ he said.

‘What you said this morning, Frankie, that you had seen Laura with someone,’ I gasped, my heart beating fast.

He smirked. ‘I’m not sure I remember.’

‘Yes, you do, Frankie, and I’m not in the mood for fucking around. Tell me what you saw.’

Frankie glanced at the bare wall. ‘I’m not sure I’m allowed. The police took away all my pictures.’

‘That’s because you look into people’s bedrooms,’ I said. ‘This is different. This is about saving a life.’

Frankie seemed to like that, and he rocked faster, his teeth bared as his smile grew bigger.

‘I want my pictures.’

‘What kind of man are you?’ I said.

‘One who knows what he likes,’ he snapped. ‘And who has got something you want.’

‘I could just look at your computer.’

He shrugged. ‘Go ahead, but it’ll take you some time to get past the passwords.’ He watched me, and then smirked again. ‘You don’t have time, do you? I can tell that, from the way you burst into my home. You’re in a panic.’

I paced up and down quickly, losing my temper. ‘You said you liked Laura,’ I said, turning to him, pointing. ‘So help her.’

‘Why should I?’

‘Because it’s the right thing to do.’

Frankie shook his head. ‘My pictures first.’

I took a deep breath, and then I reached into my jacket pocket to pull out the envelope containing the photographs.

Frankie snatched them from me and flicked through them, his cheeks flushing red.

‘Show me, Frankie,’ I said. ‘The pictures from last night.’

After a few seconds, Frankie put his photographs down and wheeled towards his computer. He clicked the mouse as the cursor hovered over the ‘My Pictures’ icon and, as the folder opened, I looked at the screen and saw a collection of images, some showing my house.

‘You said there were passwords.’

‘Maybe I was wrong,’ Frankie replied.

I tried to bite down on my anger. ‘Print them off,’ I said, and a few seconds later the printer started whirring away under his desk.

When the printer had finished, I snatched up the pictures and studied them. They showed Claude coming out of my house, looking around. It was taken from a distance, but I recognised him.

The other pictures made me sit down, Frankie’s bed creaking under me. They showed two people by a Mini, Laura and Claude, the latter with his unkempt beard, his hair hidden under a wide-brimmed hat, more Salvation Army hostel than eighties charmer. In each one, though, there was a good view of his face, and I recognised him. More than that, there was a number plate visible. I would call Joe with that as soon as I got outside. But it was the sight of Laura that shocked me. She was being taken to his car, bound by her wrists and feet, and her face looked swollen and bloodied.

‘I’m taking these,’ I said to Frankie. ‘If you remove them from your computer, I’ll burn your house down.’

He smiled, but I could tell from the twitch in the corner of his mouth that he heeded the threat. And right then, I meant it.

‘We’re even,’ he said.

‘Not even fucking close,’ I snarled, as I slammed the door.