The Taken Girls: An absolutely gripping crime thriller full of mystery and suspense
When a missing teenage girl reappears unharmed but pregnant, the case falls to DI Edina Ogborne, the newest recruit of Canterbury Police. But Ed’s already got her hands full with a team who don’t want her, an ex who won’t quit, and terrible guilt over a secret from her past.As Ed investigates the case, she discovers Canterbury has seen this crime not once, but several times before. And when Ed and her detectives encounter missing historic police files, falsified school records, and Ed’s new lover as a prime suspect, it becomes clear that the system has been corrupted.Can Ed find the kidnapper behind these depraved crimes before he strikes again? Or has time already run out?
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THE TAKEN GIRLS
G. D. Sanders
Published by AVON
A Division of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd
1 London Bridge Street
London SE1 9GF
First published in Great Britain by HarperCollinsPublishers 2018
Copyright © G. D. Sanders 2018
G. D. Sanders asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this ebook on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.
Ebook Edition © December 2018 ISBN: 9780008313203
Version: 2018-09-13
Table of Contents
As a boy he liked small things, living things which moved. At least, they were moving when he caught them, moving when he first put them in his jars. Later they would stop and he would transfer them with a pin to the boxes in which he kept his collection. He never tired of his collection.
Who should it be? A 17-year-old, one who kept herself to herself, not shy but perhaps a little old-fashioned; such a girl would be perfect.
He’d studied several and chosen Teresa. Hers was an ordered life: school, church and home. On Fridays, she left her Bible study class at half past five and returned to her parents’ house on the southern edge of Canterbury, in an affluent neighbourhood well away from the tourist-packed city centre. There, beyond the Kent County Cricket Ground, the Nackington Road footpath was overhung by trees and poorly lit. It was a good spot and only five minutes’ drive to the building in the woods, where, behind a chain-link partition, the bed, handcuffs and buckets were prepared for the girl’s arrival. Later he would buy chiffon scarves. Already stored out of sight were the drugs and equipment he’d need when she was ready.
He’d chosen the girl, the place and the time. On Friday, 8 March 2002, the sun was due to set at 5.40 p.m. Teresa should arrive just before six. He would be waiting.
The last of the daylight was disappearing in the west as he coasted the van to a stop between two street lamps. Spring was still 12 days away and the nights were cold. In order to move more freely, he’d left his heavy winter coat on the passenger seat. Shivering in the evening chill, he leant against the warmth of the engine, waiting until he heard the sound of approaching footsteps. A glance at his watch and he was sure they were Teresa’s. One more bend in the road and she’d see the lamps at the entrance to her home. As he soaked the pad and returned the bottle to his pocket, an image of his mother entered his head and he felt sick, hit by a wave of revulsion, which subsided to a lingering apprehension. He steeled himself. It had to be done. Focus. Teresa was a schoolgirl. It would be a young body against his own.
He grabbed her from behind. One arm encircled her waist while the other clamped the pad over her nose and mouth. Teresa was off guard and off balance. There was no time for her to register individual events before she was overwhelmed and he felt her legs buckle beneath her. Supporting the weight of her unconscious body, he walked her to the side door of the van and placed her gently on the floor inside.
It was done. He’d held his nerve.
The van swayed and bumped on the rough track through the woods. At the building, he parked under cover in the adjacent shed. Six minutes later, Teresa was behind the wire partition, handcuffed and chained to the wall. He sat in the armchair waiting for the effects of the ether to wear off. He could relax. He was in control. No element of chance stood between him and success.
