by Carol Wyer
‘What are you suggesting?’
‘They didn’t abuse her in any way?’
‘I seriously doubt that. Roxy would definitely have said something if they had. She wasn’t one to keep quiet about anything. She could stand her ground.’
‘But they might have. Victims don’t always speak out.’
‘Look, I’ve known those children since they were toddlers, and Cathy for years. There was nothing going on other than the usual squabbles between them. Cathy would definitely have suspected if there’d been anything like that taking place, and I don’t like you even mentioning such things.’ She glared fiercely at Natalie, who deflected the look with another question.
‘Roxy argued a lot with Cathy, didn’t she?’
‘The boys are a handful. Cathy would get pissed off and knackered by them all and Roxy didn’t help matters. She wound everyone up and Cathy would always have to deal with the fallout. There were some pretty heated exchanges but Cathy also argued a lot with the boys. She’d often come to my house to get away from them and have some peace and quiet.’
‘The last time you saw Roxy, she was unhappy. Have you any idea why?’
Her eyelids fluttered and she shifted uncomfortably in her seat. ‘I feel really terrible about this now but she was always such a drama queen, I didn’t really pay much heed to it at the time. Around Christmastime, I met them both for coffee in town, and when Cathy went to the loo, Roxy grabbed my arm and hissed, “Tell Mum to make him stop.” I told her not to be so melodramatic and asked her what she meant by that, but she instantly changed, became defensive and said to ignore her because she was just feeling shitty on account of her period starting. Roxy was like that: one minute up, the next down. I thought maybe one of the boys had done something to annoy her and it was her way of trying to get him into trouble, so I didn’t pursue it, and after Cathy came back, she didn’t mention it again. In fact, she seemed to forget about it.’
‘And you don’t think she was talking about being abused?’
‘No! I really don’t think the boys would do anything to her. Charlie’s been going out with Zara for a long time, and Oliver left home three years ago, and Seth… well, Seth just wouldn’t.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘He’s really quite gentle.’
This sounded at odds with the boy Natalie had met who had argued with Paul in front of her, and who’d been aggressive on a few occasions.
‘Can you expand on that?’
‘He’s a real Mummy’s boy. Worshipped Cathy. Always has done. He struggles to be as macho as his older brothers. He puts on a front but underneath the bravado, he’s very sensitive. Too sensitive at times. Cathy was worried he was too clingy. A lad his age should be spreading his wings and thinking about forming new relationships, but Seth was happy at home, being around Cathy.’ She’d dropped her voice as if someone might hear.
Natalie nodded and let it drop. There was still a possibility that Roxy had been a victim of abuse. She’d gleaned something more about the family and Seth. However, it still didn’t link to the nightclub owners.
‘Do the names Gavin and Kirk Lang mean anything to you?’
‘I think I might have heard of them.’ Megan screwed her eyes tightly in concentration but opened them again with, ‘No, I can’t think where I’ve come across them.’
‘Did Cathy mention them to you?’
‘I don’t think so.’
‘Roxy?’
‘Maybe. Maybe she said something about them. Are they in her class at school?’
‘No, they run a nightclub called Extravaganza.’
‘Oh, I know which one you mean. I’ve been there. Cathy and I went there the first Saturday in December – girls’ night out. They were offering free entry to all women.’
‘You were at Extravaganza?’
‘We didn’t stay for long. It was full of young people and the drinks were way out of our price range. We caught a bus back to Clearview and went to the pub.’
‘Did you meet the owners?’
‘What do they look like?’
Natalie pulled out photographs of Gavin and Kirk from a file. Megan peered at them before saying, ‘I remember him. He chatted up Cathy. She dragged me off to the toilets to get away from him. Said he was a right creep. Couldn’t tear his eyes away from her tits.’
Natalie looked at the person she’d indicated – Gavin Lang. ‘Did he tell her his name?’
‘No. She didn’t want to talk to him. He was really intense. We left soon afterwards.’
‘You never went back to the nightclub?’
‘No. We only went along because it was free entry but it wasn’t what we expected. We didn’t return. It was a one-off.’
Back in the office, Natalie went back over her interview with Megan. It put Gavin Lang in the frame although Natalie wasn’t going to discount any of the Curtis family.
Murray appeared. ‘Gavin and Kirk are downstairs and I’d better warn you, they’re like a pair of angry bulls. Seriously, that Gavin looks like he’s going to deck somebody.’
‘Then it’ll give us good reason to charge him if he does.’
‘They’re refusing to cooperate until they have a lawyer present.’
Natalie threw her pen onto the table. ‘Bloody hell! I’m getting sick of that pair. Okay. Let me know when somebody turns up and then we’ll talk to them.’
Ian’s voice came over the comms unit.
Murray scooted across and answered. ‘Go ahead, Ian.’
‘There’s been a development. A black motorbike was spotted travelling along Linnet Lane yesterday evening around seven. Witness says it was going very slowly as if the biker was hunting for an address. He went out into the road to speak to the rider but they tore off once they spotted him. He didn’t get the entire registration but he’s certain it ended in “N” for November, “F” for Foxtrot.’
‘November, Foxtrot…’ Murray scrabbled for the case notes and flicked through the pages. ‘I’m sure Seth Curtis owns a black motorbike with a number plate ending with those letters. Yes! He does. I’ll chase up the tech team immediately and see if they spotted his bike on any ANPR camera.’
Natalie didn’t need to reply. She was certain Seth had not ridden his bike to Scarborough, and it was obvious what they had to do next: locate and bring in Roxy’s brother.
Sixteen
Monday, 2 July – Late Afternoon
David Ward slammed the notepad hard against his desk. Fucking waste of time! He’d been confident, calm and enthusiastic. What more did these people want? He stared at the white Skype logo on the blue background, and with the touch of a key he banished it from sight.
The company had been looking for somebody with a background in languages to assist with overseas sales, and although David didn’t have much background in actual selling, he had a wealth of knowledge in law from his previous occupation that would have greatly assisted the young company hoping to expand into Europe. He should have guessed he wasn’t going to get the job when they asked to interview him via the Internet. He tapped another key and stared at the webpage he’d studiously examined prior to the interview. He’d researched T-Zone Enterprise Ltd thoroughly, even running searches on the founders to show he was keen. He typed in a fresh web address, one that was now incredibly familiar to him – the local employment website – and swore under his breath.
Stephen, the guy who’d interviewed him, was his polar opposite: casually attired in a T-shirt and relaxed, leaning back in his chair as if watching a dreary film. David, dressed in a shirt and tie, had spent the entire interview bolt upright like a soldier waiting for instructions. Little wonder the guy didn’t want him to be part of the new company. He had to face it – he was an out-of-touch has-been compared to the entrepreneurial guys who were making their marks on the world. He looked at the display on the computer. It was almost five and Josh was in his room, lost in an online game, and Leigh was at Katy’s house. Heaven knew what time Natalie would fini
sh work. It could be midnight. How he hated it when she was working a tough investigation. You didn’t mind her hours when you were working, did you? said a small voice in his head. He told it to fuck off.
He loosened his tie, yanked it from around his neck and tossed it onto the desk. He clicked the mouse button and pored over the available positions. Nothing new had been added since yesterday when he’d last checked.
He interlocked his fingers behind his head and rested back into them, eyes closed. What the fuck was he supposed to do next? He’d promised Natalie he’d find a job, that he’d mend his ways. He’d not been at home the day Leigh had run away because he’d been at the bookies. Not only that, he’d lost the money he’d borrowed from his father, Eric. He’d had a gambling problem. It had taken a while to admit it but eventually he had, and although he’d received treatment and made a recovery, he’d had a setback, brought about by a feeling of failure. He picked up the business card he kept propped against the computer monitor. It bore the name and number of the Gamblers Anonymous group he’d been attending each week since the dreadful day Leigh had run away. He turned it over, rubbing his fingers over the glossy surface and reminding himself he was not weak. He didn’t need to be that person who had almost ruined everything.
He flicked the card onto the desk next to the tie and pushed back his seat. What could he do to make it all better? Natalie was still being distant with him and they hadn’t had sex in weeks. It wasn’t going well, and in spite of his efforts, he could sense it all spiralling out of control. He ambled to the kitchen, checked the fridge and pulled out some tomatoes and ham. He couldn’t face cooking anything for him and Josh. Sandwiches would do. He lifted two plates from the top shelf in the cupboard and stopped, his eyes resting on the three bottles of red wine stashed at the bottom. Fuck it! He deserved a drink. He uncorked the bottle and poured a large glass, dropping onto the kitchen stool and staring out of the window. Was this what it had come to? Would he ever find any self-worth again?
The first glass was soon emptied, and the second, and he took the third back into his office, the ham and tomatoes still on the kitchen top. He figured if Josh was hungry, he’d come downstairs for some food and could bloody well fix his own sandwich. He stabbed at the keypad and brought his screen to life. His fingers hovered over the keys. He shouldn’t. A look wouldn’t hurt. He could delete his browsing history so Natalie would be none the wiser. It wouldn’t harm anyone to take a quick look. He typed in the address and sat back, glass in hand, as the bright flashing lights of the casino page flickered across the screen. He didn’t have to play. He could look and imagine what it was like to be a winner, couldn’t he?
Seventeen
Monday, 2 July – Evening
Natalie was in limbo waiting for the Lang brothers’ lawyer to turn up. Lucy was still out searching for Ellie but Ian was on his way back to the station with Seth. She stomped back to the office from the vending machine, two lukewarm coffees in her hands. Murray, the only member of her team in the office, spoke as soon as she walked in.
‘Mike’s team has examined Cathy’s mobile and there’s nothing on it that can help us. The last text message was sent at seven twenty yesterday to Paul’s phone, as we already know. Pinkney has sent through the pathology report on her. In brief, there was tissue damage associated with strangulation, pinpoint haemorrhaging on the skin and in the conjunctiva, and a superficially incised curvilinear abrasion, caused by the victim’s fingernail, where she struggled to release her assailant’s grip.’
‘She was definitely strangled then?’ She passed him a plastic cup and he thanked her.
‘Yes, and there was no water in the lungs or in the trachea so she was dead before she hit the water.’
‘Any inkling as to what was used to strangle her?’ Natalie asked.
Murray shook his head. ‘Pinkney thinks it was some form of material. The marks on her throat and neck are suggestive of something softer than a rope, belt or cable.’
‘Crap! That hardly narrows it down, does it? Could be anything from a pair of tights to a scarf. We still can’t interview Gavin and Kirk for the moment. They’re holding out for lawyers. Where are we with Seth Curtis?’
‘Tech team have just finished hunting through footage of the routes from Armston to Scarborough. They couldn’t find his motorbike on any ANPR cameras or CCTV footage in Scarborough, as we suspected. There’s an outside chance he took back routes and avoided most of the cameras, but it’s highly unlikely, especially once he entered Scarborough. There are numerous cameras in town and there was no sign of him near any beaches.’
‘Okay. We’re getting somewhere and that’s good.’ She sipped the coffee and pulled a face. ‘I’m sick of bloody coffee. You eaten?’
‘Not yet.’
‘Phone the Lotus Flower, will you? Get a selection for us all, and noodles. I really fancy some noodles.’
She grabbed her phone and hurtled upstairs to the roof terrace, where she conducted most of her private phone calls. One side overlooked the main road into Samford, and from the other, endless rooftops sprawled way into the distance, towards and beyond the town centre, which was marked by a church spire. The terrace was where the smokers hung out or those who wanted a few minutes away from the hustle and bustle going on inside the building. A makeshift bench had been erected in the centre next to a metal waste bin which was almost filled with empty cigarette packets and sandwich wrappers. This was the place she did a lot of her thinking, especially when it was empty, as it was now. The rush hour traffic droned like a hundred enormous bees below her. She rested lightly against the low concrete wall, briefly savouring its coolness that permeated her blouse and lowered the temperature of her flesh. She dialled home and Josh picked up.
‘Hey.’
‘Hi.’
‘Just checking to see if everything is okay.’
‘Fine.’
‘What are you up to?’
‘Making a sandwich.’
‘Where’s your dad?’
‘Watching telly, I think.’
‘I wanted to let you know I’ll be late home.’
‘Okay.’
‘There’s some moussaka in the freezer. I put it into Tupperware tubs and marked it up. You only need to microwave it.’
‘It’s okay. I’ve got a sandwich now.’
‘What about Leigh?’
‘She wasn’t hungry. She’s gone for a bath.’
‘Oh, okay. How did your interview go?’
‘Fine.’
‘Do you think you got the job?’
‘Dunno.’
‘I’m sure they liked you. You looked the part.’
She was met with a brief silence then an ambivalent, ‘Yeah.’
‘We’ll have to see, won’t we?’ She hated her false cheery tone and wished she was at home where she could at least measure her son’s response from visual clues. His monotone conversation wasn’t telling her anything. ‘Can you put Dad on for me?’
‘Hang on.’
She heard a muffled, ‘Dad! It’s Mum.’
David’s voice was sleepy. ‘Hey.’
‘Hi. I’m sorry but I’m held up. I don’t know what time I’ll get in.’
‘Okay.’
‘How do you think the interview went today?’
‘The interview?’ He sounded suddenly wary.
‘Yes. Josh’s interview.’
‘Oh, that! Yes. He seemed confident, although we won’t know for a couple of days whether or not he got it.’
She picked up on the confusion he’d tried to hide. ‘Is everything okay?’
‘Why shouldn’t it be?’
‘No reason. Just making sure.’
‘It’s all fine so don’t worry.’
‘I told Josh there’s some moussaka in the freezer. Don’t worry about me, I’ll get something here.’
‘Great. Thanks. I’ll see if they fancy it. So, I’ll see you when I see you, then.’
‘I’ll try not to be too lo
ng but you know how it is.’
‘I certainly do. Hope you get a result. Take care.’
He ended the call and Natalie pocketed her mobile with a frown. David had sounded overly upbeat and at the same time vague. She had little time to dwell too long on her thoughts because Mike appeared.
‘Must stop meeting like this,’ he said with a grin. ‘Fucking shit day, what about you?’
‘I’d say “fucking shit” just about covers it. A second victim, two uncooperative suspects, a third equally unhelpful suspect with attitude on his way to be interviewed, and far too many people keeping secrets.’
‘Welcome to policing,’ he said with a laugh. He kept his hands in his pockets and stared at his feet. ‘Some days I wonder what on earth I’m doing. The world’s such a fucked-up place with millions of fucked-up individuals causing mayhem. We’re fighting a losing battle all the time.’
She gave him a moment to speak. Something was really bothering him. It wasn’t like him to be so downhearted. He pulled out a packet of cigarettes. It was only after he’d lit one and taken his first drag that he spoke again. ‘We got called to a traffic accident earlier. Wanker was completely stoned and slammed into an SUV driven by a young mum and three kids. She was only twenty-eight and the little ones all under the age of four. They all died on impact and yet the bastard walked away without a scratch on him.’
‘Oh shit, Mike! I’m sorry. That’s really terrible.’
‘Isn’t it? I couldn’t handle it, Nat. Not today. I left the others to deal with it. I had to distance myself as quickly as possible. I wanted to smash my fist into that guy’s face and break every single bone in his body and make him suffer. Shit! To think I was within a hair’s breadth of losing control.’
‘But you didn’t. You walked away.’
‘Yeah.’ He snorted then added, ‘It’s Thea’s birthday next week and…’
‘I get it completely. It’s almost impossible not to think of your own loved ones in those situations.’ She reached out and squeezed his shoulder. He reached up and circled her wrist with his hand. He held onto it and stared into her eyes. She gave him another gentle squeeze. ‘I have to go. My suspect will be here. Ring Nicole and talk to her and Thea. Reassure yourself that they’re both fine and well. You’ll feel better if you do.’