‘So, Mr Tucker,’ DC Hunter said, her voice suddenly very business-like. ‘Can you tell me the last time you saw your daughter, Milly?’
‘Please, it’s Jimmy. Like I told your boss yesterday, it’s only been a couple of days, but it’s really not like her.’
Half an hour later, Jimmy had told Kate everything that he’d told Malcolm at the police station. To her credit, the policewoman had managed to get one or two more details out of Jimmy that Malcolm hadn’t. Minor details, but ones which might be important, Jimmy supposed. He and Malcolm had discussed the fact that Milly didn’t really have a ‘best friend’ but had quite a few female friends who she spent time with. Kate had gone down a slightly different route, and wanted to know about who Milly’s best friend had been at school, and who amongst her friends she’d turned to when her mother had died. The policewoman had explained that finding this friend could be important. If Milly was having problems—not that Kate was suggesting she was— but if she was, then Milly could have turned to a friend who’d supported her in the past.
‘Okay, Jimmy,’ Kate said, putting her notebook away in her pocket. ‘Thanks for that. Really useful. Could we perhaps have a look in Milly’s bedroom?’
‘Sure,’ Jimmy replied, getting to his feet. ‘I’ll take you up there.’
‘Are you coming up, sir?’ Kate said, and it took Jimmy a second to realise that she was talking to Malcolm, not him.
‘I’ll wait here if that’s okay with you, Jimmy?’
‘Fill your boots. Do you want another cuppa?’
‘I can sort myself out, don’t worry,’ Malcolm replied with a smile. Jimmy hesitated for a second, before realising that there was no reason he couldn’t leave Malcolm on his own downstairs. There was nothing to hide.
‘So, if I can just check before I go in, you’re happy for me to look through Milly’s things?’ Kate was standing at Milly’s bedroom door, looking expectantly at Jimmy.
‘Of course I am,’ Jimmy replied, trying to keep the annoyance out of his voice. That was why they were here, wasn’t it?’
‘Sorry to have to ask,’ Kate said, picking up on Jimmy’s irritation. ‘But I do need to check.’
‘No, I’m sorry,’ Jimmy apologised. ‘I’m just a bit uptight, that’s all. What with everything that’s going on.’ The policewoman looked at him with a curious expression, and Jimmy wondered if she knew about him being sick.
‘I’m sure Milly’s fine,’ Kate said, but Jimmy didn’t believe she really thought that. He paused, wondering if she would follow it up with anything else. When she didn't, he held his hand out towards Milly’s bedroom.
‘Please, after you,’ he said, and then watched with surprise as she slipped her hand into a pocket and pulled out a pair of purple vinyl gloves.
‘It’s just protocol,’ Kate said as she slipped them onto her hands.
Jimmy watched the young policewoman as she made her way methodically around Milly’s room in a clockwise direction. Kate was so thorough that Jimmy started to get nervous when she got to the drawer that he’d forced open, but she didn’t pay any attention to the broken lock at all. Kate flicked through the paperwork that he’d left in the drawer before straightening it up and putting the phone bills on top of the chest of drawers.
‘Mobile phone bills,’ Kate muttered, biting her lip for a second. ‘It might be useful if we take these with us?’ she asked, not looking at Jimmy as she did so. It came across as more of a statement than a question, not that Jimmy was bothered either way. ‘We can look at the activity, you see.’
‘I gave her number to Malcolm, back at the station. Is it Malcolm? Is that what I’m supposed to call him? Or is it Mr Griffiths?’
‘You can call him what you like,’ Kate replied, a brief smile creeping across her face. ‘Within reason. I just call him sir. It’s not just her number though, it’s other numbers on the bills that we’re interested in.’
‘Does the phone company not just hand that stuff over?’
‘I wish they did,’ Kate replied, her smile fading. ‘It would make our lives a lot easier, not having to get warrants.’
‘I’ve tried phoning, tried texting. Not had a thing back, which isn’t like Milly at all. She knows I worry about her.’ Jimmy paused for a second, not sure how much this young woman knew about his family. ‘After what happened to her mother,’ he continued.
‘Yes,’ Kate replied in a soft voice. ‘The boss told me how your wife died. I’m really sorry. It must have been awful.’
‘It still is,’ Jimmy said, a note of finality in his voice. ‘Did your boss tell you anything else? Anything about me?’
‘Yes, he did,’ Kate nodded, her eyes downcast. ‘That’s one of the reasons he’s here. He knows how important it is for you to find Milly quickly.’
The young policewoman turned her attention to Milly’s wardrobe. When she opened it and saw the various dresses lined up, Jimmy saw her eyes widen. Kate pulled out one of the dresses and examined the label carefully, whistling quietly as she did so. Placing the dress back in the cupboard, she pulled out another one. It wasn’t one that Jimmy had ever seen Milly wearing. The dress was black, made of a fine satin material, and not very substantial.
‘She’s an eight,’ Jimmy offered.
‘Sorry?’ Kate looked up from the dress.
‘Milly. She’s a size eight,’ he said. ‘I don’t know about other measurements like, er, bust size and that. But she’s a size eight, and she’s got size four feet.
‘Okay, thanks,’ the policewoman replied. ‘That’s really useful.’ Kate put the small black dress away and turned her attention to an ugly pair of leather boots on the bottom of the wardrobe. ‘She’s got quite the taste in clothes, your daughter.’
‘I bought her some slippers last Christmas, see. And matching pyjamas. That’s how I know. I had to look in her wardrobe to find out what size to get her. Then I went to Marks and Spencer and spoke to the woman in there to make sure I got her nice ones.’
‘That was a thoughtful present,’ Kate said. ‘I bet she was chuffed to bits.’
‘She was.’ Jimmy started to laugh, but as soon as it had begun, the laughter turned into a sob. ‘They had tiny penguins on them. She used to love penguins when she was little.’ Jimmy didn’t want to cry, not in front of this young woman. It didn’t seem very fair on her. ‘Right then,’ he said, forcing the lump in his throat back down. ‘Cup of tea?’
’So, DC Hunter,’ Malcolm said from his position on Jimmy’s lounge sofa, a fresh mug of tea balanced on his knee. ‘What’s your assessment?’
‘Erm,’ Kate replied with a sidelong glance at Jimmy who was sitting opposite them. ‘Well, there’s a few bits that I think we can work with to find Milly.’ Malcolm nodded at her, encouraging her to continue. ‘But at the same time, there’s not a massive amount to go on.’
‘Lines of enquiry?’ Malcolm asked, all business.
‘Phone logs, obviously,’ Kate replied. ‘We’ve got a few months’ worth to look at.’
‘Excellent, what else?’
‘Well, not a massive amount to be honest. On the face of it, the misper is absent. There're no flags at all, so according to our risk table, she’s low risk in terms of harm.’ Jimmy frowned, not understanding what the young policewoman was saying. He looked at Malcolm, about to ask him for some help in interpreting what Kate had just said, and saw that he was frowning as well.
‘But?’ Malcolm asked. Kate shuffled in her seat and flicked through her notes before continuing.
‘But, the fact that this is so out of character is itself a flag. She, er, Milly, doesn’t have a history of disappearing, there’s no evidence of substance abuse issues, home life appears stable, and there’s no obvious reason for her to vanish.’ Kate took a deep breath and glanced again at Jimmy. ‘So from that perspective, we need to investigate this as a medium or even high-risk case.’
‘Very good,’ Malcolm answered with a grim smile. ‘Next steps?’
Jimmy lis
tened as the policewoman reeled off a series of acronyms to chase up, and agencies to involve. He didn’t really have a chance of understanding what the two coppers were talking about, so he just let the words wash over his head. Whatever it was they were discussing, hopefully it was a plan to find his daughter.
Malcolm finished the conversation with a series of instructions for the policewoman which Kate dutifully wrote in her notebook. When he had finished, and Kate had put her notebook away, Malcolm asked her to wait in the car for him. Without a word, she smiled at Jimmy and left his lounge. Malcolm waited until Jimmy heard the front door closing before turning to him.
‘She might be wet behind the ears, Jimmy,’ he said, ‘but she’s very good.’
‘So, what happens next?’ Jimmy asked. ‘I didn’t understand half of what you were talking about just now.’
‘Sorry,’ Malcolm replied. ‘Basically, when Kate gets back to the station, she’ll start the ball rolling in terms of the investigation. It might go quiet for a bit on our side, but that doesn’t mean that nothing’s happening.’
‘Okay, thanks,’ Jimmy replied. ‘What should I do in the meantime? It’s not as if I’ve got time on my side, is it?’ Malcolm looked nonplussed at the question, and Jimmy felt bad for asking it. ‘Sorry,’ Jimmy said. ‘That didn’t come out right.’
‘If I’m honest, I would do whatever you can,’ Malcolm replied. ‘Within the law, obviously. We’re limited in terms of resources, at least in the initial stages of the investigation.’
‘How'd you mean, initial stages?’
‘Well, the longer Milly’s missing for, the more manpower we can put into the case.’ Jimmy thought for a few seconds, processing what the policeman had just said. ‘So if there’s anything you can do in the meantime to find her, well, it would be useful.’
‘I’m on my own, is that what you’re telling me?’ Jimmy asked.
‘If I answer that as a policeman, then the reply is no, you’re not.’ Malcolm paused, looking over at the fish tank for a few seconds. ‘But if Milly was my daughter, I would do whatever I could to find her.’ He fixed Jimmy with a hard stare that pulled no punches. ‘I wouldn’t wait for the police to find her for me.’
Chapter 11
Jimmy woke with a start, pushing the sweat-soaked duvet off his legs. Something had woken him up, of that he was sure. He lay on his side of the bed, listening for anything out of the ordinary. There was no light coming through the curtains in his bedroom, he didn’t need a pee, and he was wide awake in an instant. Which meant that something had woken him up, as opposed to him just waking up of his own accord. Even though he’d been getting up early for years, if he knew he didn’t have to be up then he could stay in bed until mid-morning.
A few seconds later, his phone vibrated on his bedside table. Two short vibrations that moved the phone a centimetre or two across the surface. Jimmy scrabbled to grab it, fumbling as he tried to stab the button to turn the screen on. When it lit up, the first thing he saw was the time—just after seven in the morning—and the second was an incoming text message from Robbie, his crew mate on the lorries.
Hey, old timer. You coming in today or what? Jimmy had forgotten to tell him he wouldn’t be in that day. He’d phoned his boss last night after the police had left and explained that he would be off sick for a while. No, he didn’t know how long it would be for. No, he wasn’t going to tell his boss why. Yes, he could get a note from the doctor. When he’d ended the call, Jimmy felt like a schoolboy all over again.
He sighed as he tapped out a reply to Robbie, resisting the urge as he did so to have a go at his friend for texting him at the crack of sparrows.
No mate, I’m sick. Going to be off for a while. I told The Man yesterday. Sorry, should have let you know.
‘The Man’ was their crew’s derogatory nickname for the current manager of their round, a prickly fast-track graduate who didn’t hide the fact that he hated his current placement with the refuse collection teams. They returned the favour by making it clear that they disliked him as much as he did them, but that didn’t change the fact that the stuck up tosser was still their boss for the next few months.
Everything okay, fella? Robbie replied. Everything, Jimmy thought, was a long way from okay, but he didn’t want to tell Robbie that via a text message.
All good, Jimmy answered instead. The boys in yet?
What do you think? Marmite will think you’re on the scrounge off the social when I tell him you’re sick, though.
Robbie’s reply raised a smile from Jimmy as he put his phone back on his bedside table. He pulled the duvet back over his legs, wincing as the cold, damp material hit his skin. Why had he woken up drenched in sweat with the heating off in the middle of November? Was it the aneurysm, deep within his head, perhaps? Jimmy had no idea, but made a mental note to ask them at the hospital if night-sweats were normal or not. He closed his eyes, willing his brain to go back to sleep, but within a minute he knew that wasn’t going to happen. Muttering under his breath, Jimmy swept the duvet back off his legs and padded into the kitchen to make a cup of tea.
A few moments later, he was sitting in bed, propped up against a pillow with a cup of tea in one hand and his iPad in the other. On the small television in the room's corner, the news played away to itself, Jimmy paying no attention to the two politicians on the screen involved in a furious argument about something or other. Jimmy smiled to himself as he folded back the case of his iPad, wondering how many people in the country were watching the two pompous arseholes on the telly at that time in the morning.
He pressed his thumb on the button of the iPad and navigated his way to the photos section. For the next few minutes, he scrolled through the pictures. They were almost all of Milly, which was hardly surprising as Jimmy didn’t have anything else that he wanted to take photographs of. Milly was like almost every other young woman these days in front of a camera—Jimmy had seen enough photos of them on the internet or on the telly—the minute she saw a camera lens, she pouted at it.
Jimmy flipped through the pictures until he found the one he wanted. It was, he thought, the last photo he had of the two of them together. It had been taken a couple of weeks before on the coast at Sheringham. He and Milly had driven up there after going to Cromer after abandoning their crabbing efforts, knowing that the weather would be wild. They timed their arrival with the high tide, hoping to see some spectacular waves crashing over the sea defences. The North Sea hadn’t disappointed them on that front.
Despite their best efforts to take a selfie with the raging sea behind them, a passing dog walker had taken the picture Jimmy was looking at now. Jimmy had been reluctant to hand the phone over to the young man with the dog, figuring that there was no reason he wouldn’t just run off with it, until he realised that while the man might be a fast runner, his dog wouldn’t be.
In the photograph, both Jimmy and Milly had rosy cheeks, courtesy of the biting wind. Milly had her arms wrapped around Jimmy’s midriff, her jacket pulled down over her hands to protect them. The last thing Jimmy had said before they had left home that morning was, ‘Have you got your gloves?’ Milly had tutted as she always did when Jimmy said anything like that, but he had the last laugh. Jimmy smiled as he looked at her expression. The stand-in photographer had caught Milly mid-laugh, as just before he’d pressed the button on the phone to take the picture, Jimmy had grabbed Milly’s side to make her stop pouting.
While he scrolled through the rest of the pictures, sipping his tea, something that the policewoman had said to Jimmy the day before came back to him. She’d mentioned social media, asking if Milly used Twitter or Facebook. Jimmy had answered no, saying that as far as he knew she didn’t. It wasn’t something that she’d ever talked about.
Jimmy pressed the home button and started up Safari, typing ‘www.facebook.co.uk’ into the browser address bar. To his surprise, he got an error page from Google telling him it couldn’t be found.
‘What do you mean, it can’t be
found?’ Jimmy muttered. ‘Have they bloody closed it down or something?’ A few seconds later, having just typed ‘facebook’ into the browser, he was looking at the Facebook login page. With a sigh, he went to the Google page and tried ‘Milly Tucker Facebook’ instead. One tap of the screen later, he was looking at a list of people called Milly Tucker. There were more of them that he’d thought there would be.
Half-way down the page, he found his Milly. So she used Facebook then, even though she’d never mentioned it? Then again, Jimmy thought, she wouldn’t want her old man to be invading her personal space on the internet. On the screen was a small round circle with a photograph in it—obviously Milly even though the picture was tiny—with her name and the word ‘Norwich’ in small grey letters underneath it. Jimmy tapped on her photo and took a sip of tea as the next page loaded.
Milly’s picture was in the middle of the screen, larger than before, with a black box behind it. Jimmy tried tapping on the various areas, but kept getting taken to a login page. There were tabs for ‘Friends’ and ‘Photos’, but the only place they went was to a nag screen to log in or create a new account. The only way he could see what was on her profile was to create an account. Jimmy put in his name, date of birth, and e-mail address. He chose the picture of him and Milly on the seafront as his profile picture, cropping it so that Milly’s face was half-in, half-out of the picture. There was enough of her visible so someone who knew her could recognise her, but not enough to be useful to anyone else. A few moments later, he was looking at a screen telling him to check his e-mail address in a couple of minutes time. By the time the confirmation e-mail turned up, he was back in bed with a fresh cup of tea.
This time, when he searched for Milly after he’d logged in, he could see her profile page. Or at least, what he assumed was her profile page. From what he knew about Facebook, there didn’t seem to be much on it. Tapping on her photograph enlarged it, and he studied the picture. Looking at it now, even though it was obviously his Milly, it was very different to how she normally looked in photographs.
Gareth Dawson Series Box Set Page 39