Jimmy got up from the table and walked over to the fridge, grabbing a can of beer from the bottom shelf. He didn’t drink a great deal and had no idea how long the beer had been in there. As he poured it into a glass, he realised that he didn’t even remember putting the beer in the fridge. Maybe it wasn’t even his beer? Maybe it was Milly’s?
Sitting back down at the table, he looked at the three cards he had stacked together and took a long sip of the beer. At least his heart wasn’t pulsing in the back of his head any more. Leaning forward, he looked again at the cards and the phone before shaking his head. This made little sense. He reached back into the box and pulled out the roll of money, peeling the elastic band off so he could count it. A few moments later, he had a stack of twenty-pound notes next to the rest of the contents of the box. The new polymer notes were thicker than the old ones had been, but he still had a pile just short of two thousand pounds on the kitchen table. Plus three bank cards with someone else’s name on them. Plus an expensive-looking phone. So why, he thought as he drained his glass of beer, had she been hiding them in a locked box in her bedroom?
An hour later, Jimmy was sitting in his lounge with his laptop balanced on his knee. The room stunk of microwaved pasta, but it was the only thing that he’d had the energy to cook. After he’d put the metal box away back in Milly’s drawer—even though the lock to the drawer was broken and the box unlocked, it had seemed like the most logical place to put it. Milly could walk back in at any moment, and if she did, Jimmy would rather not have to explain to her why he had been going through her things. It wasn’t really that. It was more about the questions he had for her about what he’d found when he had gone through her things.
A few moments before, he’d phoned Tom, the snowboarder from Brundall. He sounded like a nice enough young man to Jimmy, but knew nothing about where she might be. If anything, he sounded just as concerned as Jimmy was, which wasn’t that helpful. Tom and Milly had gone out a couple of times a week or so ago, and then he’d heard nothing from her, just like he’d said in his Facebook message. At first, he figured that Milly wasn’t as into him as he’d hoped—they’d only gone for a drink, Tom was quick to point out—but then he’d seen Jimmy’s message and started to get worried. Unfortunately for Jimmy, the only thing Tom could do was ask about to see if anyone had seen her. Nice as he sounded, Tom was a dead end as far as Milly was concerned.
Beside him, on the small black coffee table, was Jimmy’s third beer. It was more than he’d had to drink for a while, and probably the most he’d had to drink on his own in years. Hannah had always scolded Jimmy about drinking on his own, saying that it was a slippery slope that he’d never climb back up. As he tapped on the icon on the laptop screen for the USB drive, he realised that he didn’t care.
The ends of Jimmy’s fingers and thumbs were numb. It could have been the beer, he rationalised. Blaming a couple of cans of strong lager was better than the alternative which was that his sickness was creeping up on him, limb by limb, cell by cell. He cursed under his breath as he manoeuvred the cursor over the icon for the USB drive. It took him a couple of tries, but eventually he coordinated his fingers until the laptop whirred into life.
According to the window that eventually appeared on the screen, there was only one folder on the USB drive. The title of the folder was just a jumble of letters that took Jimmy a minute to work out. There were eight numbers. The first four were the year, the next two the month, and the final two numbers must be the day. Once Jimmy had worked the sequence out, he realised that the folder was only a month old.
Realising that his glass was nearly empty, he slid the laptop onto the sofa and got to his feet to get the last can of beer out of the fridge. Hannah had been wrong. There was nothing at all wrong with drinking on your own. He giggled on his way to the kitchen, promising himself that when he went out the next morning to buy a phone charger, he would also pick up more beer. Perhaps, he thought as he hiccupped, he would buy more than four.
Glass refilled, Jimmy concentrated as he willed his numb fingers to open the folder on the screen. To his surprise, he opened it the first time. His eyes widened as the screen filled with small thumbnail images. There were maybe twenty or twenty-five photos. All the same person. Milly. But the photos weren’t of the Milly he knew.
He managed to double click on the first image in the series, even though his fingers had trembled. The laptop thought about it for a few seconds before opening the photograph full-screen.
‘Oh, my word,’ Jimmy muttered as he looked at the photo. It showed Milly from the waist up, side on to the camera. She was wearing a slip of some sort, Jimmy wasn’t sure what the correct term for the clothing was. One thing he knew was that there wasn’t much to it. The flimsy material showed her slim body off in sharp profile, accentuated by the harsh lighting that lit her front, but threw her back into almost total darkness. She was looking directly at the camera over her shoulder, her arms raised above her head with her hands clasped in her hair.
Her face was expressionless. Milly was staring at the camera, eyes wide and lips half-closed. It took Jimmy a few seconds to realise that the photo wasn’t black and white. It was only when he saw the faintest tinge of red on her lips and cheeks that he noticed it was not monochrome, but almost.
‘Bloody hell, Milly,’ he muttered as he closed the window down to open the next one in the series. ‘What have you been up to?’
Jimmy spent the next twenty minutes going through the photographs, one by one. They were all similar in style. Almost monochrome, all harshly lit. All somewhat erotic without being pornographic. Jimmy’s biggest fear as he opened each picture was that he would see Milly—his little girl—in a way that he never wanted to see her. But that wasn’t the case. He realised that it was a portfolio, like a model’s. Maybe that’s what Milly had been up to? As he sipped his beer and waited for the next photo to open, he started to relax. If Milly was interested in modelling, then there was nothing wrong with having photographs like these taken. She had always been beautiful, and Jimmy had told her that every single day since she was a little girl. But, he could understand why she might not want to discuss modelling with him. Especially this type of modelling. It wasn’t exactly glamour, but it wasn’t far off it.
About three-quarters of the way through the series was a photograph that made Jimmy pause. He’d seen it before. Or at least, he thought he had. Jimmy took a sip of his beer as he looked at the photograph on the screen. It was a simple head shot. Just Milly looking at the camera, head on, with what Jimmy had realised was the same expression in all of them. One which gave nothing away.
Jimmy minimised the window with the photograph and, after a couple of attempts, opened up his browser window and navigated to Milly’s Facebook page. He looked at her profile picture and realised that he’d been right. Her profile photograph was from the series of photos on the USB drive. It was lower resolution, and cropped to focus in on Milly’s face, but it was definitely the same photograph.
As Jimmy looked at Milly’s page, a small red icon drew his attention in the top right-hand corner of the screen. When he’d opened up the Facebook homepage, the computer had automatically logged him in. In the centre of the small red icon was a number one. Jimmy had a message. Fingers trembling, he moved the cursor over the icon and clicked on it to bring up the message. At first, he thought it was from Tom—maybe one of his friends had seen Milly? But it wasn’t from him.
Mr Tucker, the message read. My name’s Lee, and I’ve got some information about your daughter.
Chapter 17
Jimmy stared at the message on his screen, his heart thumping. He clicked on the profile icon of the person who had sent the message. Much like all of Milly’s other friends on Facebook, Jimmy didn’t recognise him. At least not from the tiny profile picture that he could see. He clenched his fingers a couple of times before typing a reply.
Okay. Can we talk?
It took Lee a few moments to reply, during which time J
immy couldn’t tear his eyes away from the screen.
Sure. When?
Jimmy took a deep breath. As far as he was concerned, he could meet Lee now.
As soon as possible. Can you call me?
Lee didn’t take long to reply.
I’d rather meet in person. You’re in Piling Park, right?
Yes.
How about we meet in the Heartsease? In half an hour?
Jimmy glanced at his watch. It was just gone nine in the evening but the Heartsease was only a few minutes’ walk away.
Sure. I’ll see you there. Half nine.
Jimmy looked through the photographs on the USB drive a final time as he copied them over to his hard drive. There was one photograph where Milly was staring at the camera, as she was in all the others, but there was the tiniest hint of an expression on her face. What the expression was, he couldn’t tell, but it wasn’t as blank as the rest. He made a mental note to send the photograph to the police. It was a much larger file than the photo he’d already sent Malcolm of Milly on the end of Cromer Pier, so perhaps they could do more with it? He could just say he had it on his computer. He didn’t have to tell them where it came from.
Nipping down to the Heartsease probably wasn’t a bad idea anyway, even though he’d already had a few cans. If Jimmy remembered correctly, Big Joe had an iPhone. He remembered the landlord waving it around proudly a few weeks ago, convinced that he’d got a fantastic deal from the phone shop. Robbie and Jimmy had agreed between them that the phone shop had seen Big Joe coming and stitched him up like a kipper, but they said nothing to Big Joe. He seemed happy with his new phone, the phone shop would be happy, so what was the point? The main thing was that Big Joe would have an iPhone charger that he could borrow. Making sure that he had Milly’s phone in his pocket, Jimmy grabbed his coat from the hook next to the door and headed out into the cold night.
By the time he reached the Heartsease pub, Jimmy wasn’t feeling so good. He’d thought the fresh air would clear the cobwebs from his head, but it had made them worse.
‘Hey, old timer,’ Big Joe’s voice boomed from behind the bar. Jimmy glanced at his watch to see he still had ten minutes before this Lee chap turned up. ‘Pint of the usual?’
Jimmy was about to tell Joe that he would only have a glass of lemonade when he realised that the landlord already had a pint of Kronenburg half-poured. Maybe it wasn’t fresh air that he needed after all—maybe it was another pint?
‘Cheers, Joe,’ Jimmy said as he approached the bar. ‘Hey, can I ask you a favour?’
‘Sure,’ the landlord looked at him over the top of the beer tap. ‘As long as it’s not sexual favours.’
‘Er, no,’ Jimmy managed a short laugh as he pulled Milly’s iPhone out of his pocket. ‘Could you charge this up?’
‘Very nice, mate,’ Joe replied, putting Jimmy’s beer on the counter. ‘Give us it here and I’ll plug it in for you.’ Jimmy handed over the phone and fished in his pocket to pay for his pint. ‘It’s okay, Jimmy. That one’s on me. Hey, this is the latest one. You been splashing out, have you?’ Joe looked at Jimmy and gave him a broad smile. Jimmy smiled back, but watched as Joe’s smile faded. ‘Are you okay, mate?’ Joe asked, his voice much quieter than it had been.
‘Yeah, I’m fine,’ Jimmy replied. ‘Just a bit tired.’
‘You look like shit, if you don’t mind me saying,’ Joe said, fiddling with a white cable that he’d found underneath the bar. He squinted as he plugged the phone in. ‘Robbie said you’re on the sick?’
‘Robbie should mind his own bloody business.’ The phone buzzed and Joe tucked it out of sight under the counter. ‘I’m fine.’
‘Okay, okay,’ Joe replied, his hands in the air, palms toward Jimmy. ‘I’m just asking as a mate, that’s all.’
Jimmy thanked Joe for the pint and made his way over to a spare table in the pub's corner. Even though it was a Saturday night, and not long after most people’s payday, the pub was half-empty. The night after the benefits payment hit bank accounts would be a lot livelier.
He sat, alone with his thoughts for a few moments, looking up every time the door to the pub opened. On the dot of half-past nine, the door opened and a young man Jimmy recognised from his profile picture on Facebook walked in.
Lee was mid-twenties, good looking with an unkempt shock of black hair. He looked to Jimmy as if he was well dressed—jeans, a jacket over a shirt, smart shoes. It was only when the young man looked around and started walking over to where Jimmy sat that he realised that Lee was not as well dressed as he seemed. The jeans were filthy, stained with God knew what, and the jacket was threadbare. Even the shirt had a layer of grime around the collar.
‘Are you Lee?’ Jimmy asked as the young man approached him, even though he knew full well he was.
‘Yes, that’s me.’ He spoke quietly with a local accent. Jimmy got to his feet and extended a hand which Lee regarded for a few seconds before shaking.
‘Can I get you a drink?’ Jimmy asked. Lee looked at Jimmy’s pint and his face brightened.
‘Please. Can I get one of them?’ He nodded at the glass on the table.
A few moments later, Jimmy placed a full pint down in front of Lee. Big Joe had prodded him about how he knew the young man that he was meeting, but Jimmy hadn’t said a word. That pint wasn’t on the house though, nor had Jimmy expected it to be.
‘So, Lee,’ Jimmy said, taking a sip of his lager, ‘you’ve got some information about Milly?’ They weren’t there to make friends.
‘I have, Mr Tucker,’ Lee replied. There was a long pause during which neither of them said anything. It was Jimmy who eventually broke the silence.
‘You want to tell me what you know, then?’
‘Sure,’ the other man said. He leaned forward and continued, almost in a whisper. ‘Thing is, I was kind of hoping you could help me out a bit.’
Jimmy put his elbows on the table, barely able to believe what Lee had just said.
‘You serious?’ Jimmy asked.
‘I need some help, Mr Tucker,’ Lee replied, ‘so I was hoping you might see me right. That’s all.’
‘Money?’
‘Yeah. How about it?’
‘How about you tell me what you know, and you’ll get to walk out of here with your face intact?’ Jimmy let a smile play across his face. It was a well-practised look. One which said that although he was smiling, he was being very serious. ‘How about that?’ He watched as Lee glanced nervously around the now almost deserted pub. ‘There’s no one in here that can help you.’
The two men sat in silence. Jimmy reached for his glass and watched as Lee flinched at the movement. The young man was way out of his depth, and to his surprise, Jimmy felt the irritation at his request for help soften. Even though Lee’s clothes were old, unwashed, and threadbare, it still looked as if he’d made an effort for the meeting. Jimmy wasn’t exactly a ‘face’ on the estate, but Lee had to be desperate to try to roll him for some cash.
‘Where do you live?’ Jimmy asked.
‘Piling Park, same as you.’
‘Where?’ When Lee told him the name of the road he lived on, Jimmy hid a grimace. There was a definite pecking order to the streets on the estate, and the one Lee lived on was right at the bottom. The vast majority of people that lived in that part of the estate were junkies, and Jimmy was fairly sure that Lee didn’t fit into that category. Which had to make living in that street challenging.
’Are you working?’
‘No,’ Lee replied. ‘I got laid off a couple of months ago.’ Jimmy watched as the other man took a sip from his drink. ‘I’ve got an interview next week, but if I don’t pay the rent on my bedsit this month, then I’m out on my ear.’
‘Right,’ Jimmy said. ‘Who’s the interview with?’
‘The council. They need a caretaker, and I’m pretty good with my hands.’
Jimmy drained his pint, wondering whether to tell Lee that there’d be a vacancy on the bins in a coupl
e of months’ time.
’Drink up, fella.’ Jimmy nodded at Lee’s half-empty glass. ‘Then let’s start again.’
‘So, where were we?’ Jimmy said a few moments later, placing two full pint glasses on the table. ‘I think you were about to tell me about Milly, weren’t you?’ Lee looked at him, his face glum, and nodded. ‘And if what you tell me is useful, then I might be able to help you out with your rent situation a small bit.’
‘Okay,’ Lee replied, his face brightening. ‘Yeah, sure.’
For the next ten minutes, Lee told Jimmy about his previous job. The one he’d been laid off from. He’d been working in a coffee shop in the centre of the city, in what used to be the banking district but was now full of estate agents, hotels, and coffee shops. Too many coffee shops for Lee’s to keep going. It had been a Sunday night, and Lee was just closing up the coffee shop for the evening.
‘That’s when I saw her,’ Lee said. ‘Milly.’
‘Where, exactly?’
‘She was getting out of a car over the other side of the road. Outside the Royal.’
‘And you’re sure it was her?’ Jimmy asked.
‘Certain.’
‘How do you know her?’
‘I was at school with her.’ Jimmy looked at Lee again. He looked a couple of years older than Milly, but perhaps Jimmy was wrong. ‘I didn’t really know her at school, but I knew who she was. If that makes sense?’ Jimmy wasn’t sure that it did make sense to him, but he didn’t press it.
‘Did you speak to her?’
‘No, I just saw her getting out of the car. Big black thing it was, one of those limousines.’ Lee struggled over the word limousine. ‘She was all dressed up in a posh dress, like for a proper night out. I only saw her for a few seconds, but it was definitely her.’
Gareth Dawson Series Box Set Page 43