The Hiding Place

by Helen Phifer

  ‘Oh, sorry, thanks, that’s great I could do with a coffee, but when we’re finished with the briefing and if there’s nothing more I can do, I’ll go home if that’s okay. I’ll be back at work tomorrow with a smile on my face.’

  ‘And a hangover.’

  ‘So what if I do?’

  ‘Nothing, just be careful, Morgan, I worry about you.’

  ‘I’m not your responsibility, Ben. You don’t need to worry; I’m an adult and I’m fine.’

  He held his hands up. ‘Sorry, yes you are and you’re right.’

  As they reached the gate of number sixty-eight, she thought back to not that long ago and being terrified for her life as she ran away from Taylor Marks. Who had been the person she wanted most to come and save her, even though in the end she saved herself? It had been Ben; she’d wanted him to be the one to come along and swoop her out of harm’s way. Why though? Because he’s someone she trusted or because she liked him a lot more than she should? She pushed those thoughts away, back down to the depths of her mind that they’d surfaced from. She was being ridiculous; they were friends and colleagues, nothing more.

  Nine

  Morgan used her knuckles to do the honours as she rapped them against the once-white uPVC door, which looked as if it hadn’t been cleaned since the day it was fitted. One loud knock, followed by two in quick succession. The door rattled in its frame at the force, and Ben nodded at her. They were on limited time to find Charlie and she felt bad for even agreeing to meet Fin later, but she needed a little time out from all of this, and if the PolSA was taking over the physical search for her then they would be focusing on interviewing everyone who last came into contact with the missing girl. The door opened the tiniest crack.

  ‘Police.’

  ‘Really, with a knock like that it was either going to be you lot or bailiffs. What do you want? I’ve already spoken to an officer.’

  ‘Yes, you did but that was before we realised who you were, Vincent. So now my colleague and I would like to step inside for a moment and double-check what you told us.’

  The door opened wide, and Morgan thought the man standing on the other side could have been a great contender for a seventies porn star. She wondered if he was joining in with Movember then realised it was still October. Ben stepped inside, and she followed him into the narrow entrance hall.

  ‘So, Vincent, can you tell me if you know why we’re here?’

  He shook his head, a look of disbelief on his face.

  ‘There’s a missing kid from up the street and you want to find her.’

  Ben looked at Morgan. ‘He’s good. Yes, we do, we need to find Charlie Standish as a matter of urgency. She has been missing a number of hours now and we’re very concerned for her welfare.’

  The man crossed his arms. ‘She isn’t here. I already told you this. How old is she?’

  Morgan answered. ‘Charlie is nine, and her mum and dad are beside themselves with worry.’

  ‘I bet they are. Is this the kid who is always hanging around on the front street on her own in all weather, with no coat?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Well, why aren’t you asking her parents where she is? It’s a disgrace; she’s always out. Someone needs to be checking them out.’

  ‘You’re obviously well aware of the girl then?’ asked Ben.

  ‘Bloody hard not to notice her. I live near her and see her when I go in and out, so of course I’m aware of her, the same as I’m aware of the woman next door who shouts at her husband all the time and the bloke over the road who is out fixing cars all hours of the day and night.’

  ‘You didn’t take pity on her then and take her in for a bit of food and warmth, maybe offer her a safe place to stay? Although given your past record, I’m not so sure being in your company would be such a safe place to be.’

  Vincent’s cheeks flushed red and his nostrils widened. He was getting angry with Ben, and Morgan wondered if he was violent as well as a sex offender. Her fingers reached inside her trouser pocket for the canister of CS gas she’d pushed inside it earlier; if Vince so much as raised his hand, she’d blind the bastard.

  ‘Look, I don’t like kids.’

  ‘Really, that’s not what I heard.’

  ‘I made a mistake. I got talking to some teenage girl online and she was the one who sent photos first. She looked as if she was eighteen or nineteen. How was I supposed to know she was fourteen? I mean how many teenagers look that old? It was an error of judgement on my part and it’s ruined my bloody life, so don’t you dare come in here accusing me of taking some kid off the front street. Have you got a warrant to search my home?’

  ‘Vincent, who’s there, who are you shouting at?’

  ‘I’m coming, Mother, it’s nothing to worry about.’ He turned to them both and hissed, ‘Please, she isn’t well, don’t go upsetting her. It’s hard looking after her when she gets upset. You can go and search the house, then when you’re finished you can get the fuck out of here and don’t come back.’

  ‘Vincent.’

  Morgan looked at Ben, who said, ‘Thanks, we’ll take a quick look then leave you be for now. Morgan you check down here; I’ll go upstairs.’

  Morgan walked down the narrow hallway. She looked into the living room, where a woman who didn’t look that old was sitting forward in an armchair by the fire, so engrossed in stroking a cat she didn’t even notice her. There was no Charlie in there. She carried on, checking the cupboard under the stairs and then the kitchen before making her way back to the front door, where Vincent was standing with it wide open to wait for Ben. He came running downstairs and shook his head at her.

  ‘Why is the room upstairs at the front of the house locked?’

  ‘It’s my mother’s; she keeps it locked when she remembers. She thinks people come in and steal her things when she’s not there. I’ll ask her for the key, but if she won’t give it to me you’ll have to come back tomorrow.’

  Ben shook his head. ‘Have you got a spare?’

  ‘I did; she lost hers so she has that one.’

  ‘Can you try and get the key, please?’

  Vincent swore under his breath. He had turned to go and speak to his mother when Ben’s phone began vibrating in his pocket.

  ‘Amy.’

  ‘Boss, there’s a problem with the dad’s alibi. I rang the restaurant and the manager said that the couple were so late for their reservation he almost turned them away. Has anyone spoken to his girlfriend without him present? He has a temper, so she might have been scared to say anything earlier.’

  ‘Thanks, Morgan and I will go there now.’ He ended the call and walked towards the front door as Vincent came out of the living room with a key in his hand.

  ‘It’s okay, there’s been a development but if things don’t turn out we will be back.’

  Morgan looked at Vince; he could be the right age to have taken Eleanor. ‘How old are you?’

  ‘What’s that got to do with anything? I’m forty-five.’

  She nodded at him then turned and followed Ben outside. Once they were away from the front door she whispered, ‘What’s all that about? Why didn’t you check the locked room?’

  ‘The dad lied to us. I want to speak to his girlfriend. Nine times out of ten when a child goes missing it’s not a stranger abduction, and Vince was telling the truth about his conviction. It was for a teenage girl and not kiddie porn. I listened at that bedroom door and all I could hear was the sound of an old clock ticking. I called Charlie’s name. If she’d been there, don’t you think she would have at least tried to make some kind of sound?’

  Morgan shrugged; she would have checked the room and thought he should have too.

  ‘I’ll meet you at their house or do you want to come in my car and leave yours here?’

  It made sense to go in Ben’s, but she didn’t want to. She was annoyed with him and wanted some time to clear her head before they spoke to Brett, who was so tightly wound that one turn too far and his
head would explode from his shoulders.

  ‘I’ll follow you. Where are we going?’

  ‘Number six Cedarwood Grove; it’s one of the new houses on the estate by you.’

  ‘I know, I’ve heard of it.’

  Getting inside her car she shivered; it was cold, but there was something more to it than a temperature drop. She had a bad feeling about Charlie and hoped it wasn’t some kind of premonition.

  Ten

  Morgan parked behind Ben’s car in the small cul-de-sac which was Cedarwood Grove; Brett’s huge pickup dominated the drive outside the house. It was a decent-sized house for a new build; its red brick and white rendered walls with pale green windows and doors were nice, and Morgan wondered what Brett did for a living to be able to afford the mortgage on this place. Ben waited for her, and she felt conscious that they were taking up a lot of room with both their cars and that the neighbours who were home would be curtain twitching, wondering what was happening.

  ‘Have you got cuffs on you, Ben? He’s not going to take this lying down, judging by his earlier attitude. I’ve got my CS in my pocket. What’s the plan?’

  Ben nodded, pointing to his pocket from which the end of the cuffs was sticking out.

  ‘I’m ready for him so let him kick off.’

  She realised he was spoiling for a fight and wondered why he was in such a mood today: was it the fact that a little girl was missing or had her agreeing to go out for a drink with a journalist upset him? She didn’t know which it was but one of them had.

  ‘We need to know why he lied, why he was late to that restaurant reservation. If he doesn’t give a reasonable excuse then we’ll take him down the station.’

  ‘What about his partner, Phillipa?’

  ‘Try and talk to her on her own, if you can. If he won’t let you then she can get brought in as well.’

  She nodded, wondering how well this was going to go. There was a weird sensation in her stomach and she realised she was feeling uncomfortable about confronting Brett and Phillipa. The sound of Ben’s knuckles hammering against the door brought her out of herself, and she stepped up next to him. The door opened and an older woman with long, perfectly curled hair stood there looking at them as if they were mad.

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Police, is Brett here? We need to speak to him.’

  Her hand clasped to her mouth as she gasped and shrank in front of their eyes. Morgan realised she thought they were here to pass a death message.

  ‘We haven’t located Charlie yet. We just have a few more questions.’

  She took a moment to straighten herself up again. ‘Thank God for that, this is terrible.’

  There was a genuine flash of pain in her eyes, and Morgan didn’t doubt her; she was genuinely upset by the girl’s disappearance.

  ‘Please come in. I’m afraid Brett isn’t in the best of moods. He’s blaming himself for not picking Charlie up – I mean we both are.’

  They followed her into the house, which was very white. The walls, woodwork, pale wood flooring all made Morgan feel as if she’d stepped inside a giant marshmallow. She led them into an open-plan lounge-kitchen. At least the kettle and toaster were copper, otherwise how would she find them? There were no toys or books around, nothing to even suggest Charlie stayed here. Morgan couldn’t help herself from commenting on it.

  ‘Does Charlie have her own room, somewhere to play? Can we take a look at it?’

  Before Phillipa could answer, Brett stormed in; his very presence upset the calmness of the house. He looked them both up and down.

  ‘Have you found her?’

  Ben shook his head.

  ‘Then what are you doing wasting your time coming here?’

  ‘Is there something you forgot to tell us, Brett?’

  ‘Such as?’

  The atmosphere in the room fizzed with the energy both men were giving off. Morgan had to give it to Phillipa, she looked visibly distressed by it all.

  ‘Please would you take a seat. Can I get you both a drink? Brett, calm down, they’re trying to help. I know you’re upset but please stop trying to think everyone is out to get you. It’s not helping find Charlie, is it?’

  Brett stared at her for a second and then nodded. He sat down on one of the white leather sofas. Ben and Morgan took a chair each.

  ‘No, thank you, Phillipa. Why don’t you take a seat?’

  She did, next to Brett; her hand reaching for his, she wrapped her long, elegant, perfectly manicured fingers around his.

  ‘I’ll get to the point. My colleague spoke to the restaurant who confirmed that you did go there, but they also said you were so late they almost turned you away. Would you like to tell us why you were so late and also why you didn’t mention this earlier?’

  It was Phillipa who spoke. ‘It was my fault; I couldn’t decide what to wear. I was having one of those fat days where nothing fits and I felt a mess in everything I tried on.’

  Morgan looked at the slender woman in disbelief; she had the kind of athletic body she would kill for. It was obvious she worked out, ran, did yoga, probably all three. There wasn’t an ounce of spare fat on her, then she realised that she shouldn’t be so judgemental. She knew better than most how some days she hated what she saw staring back in the mirror at her. Brett’s whole body had gone rigid as he sat straight backed next to her. Morgan couldn’t tear her eyes away from their entwined hands, and she noticed Phillipa’s fingers squeeze Brett’s so hard they went white. What was she telling him? What unseen communication did they think was going on between them?

  ‘That’s it, you were so late because you couldn’t decide on an outfit?’ Ben asked, struggling to keep the incredulity out of his voice.

  Brett glared at him. ‘Yes, why is that so hard to believe? It’s always like this whenever we go anywhere; Phillipa struggles to believe how gorgeous she looks in anything.’

  There was a real moment of tenderness between them when Brett glanced at her and smiled. Morgan felt bad, but she couldn’t stop herself.

  ‘Is it okay for me to take a look in Charlie’s room?’

  Brett immediately stared at her. ‘Why?’

  It was Ben who answered. ‘Look, mate, your kid is missing and we don’t know where she is. This is standard police procedure not some manhunt; the quicker we get out of here, the more time we can spend searching for Charlie. Isn’t that what you want?’

  ‘Of course, it is. I don’t like the way you’re blaming me.’

  ‘No one is blaming you, Brett. Why do you have such a guilty conscience? Is there something you need to tell us?’

  ‘Fuck you.’

  He stood up and stormed out of the lounge, out of the front door and out to his pickup.

  ‘Is he always so angry?’

  Phillipa turned to Ben. ‘He’s angry because he’s blaming himself, and you coming here accusing him isn’t exactly helping anything. He wouldn’t hurt Charlie; he loves her very much.’

  She turned to go upstairs and Morgan followed, indicating to Ben he should wait downstairs. Phillipa led her to a doorway. Pushing open the door, Morgan released the breath she’d been holding when she saw the assortment of toys, books and dolls. She’d had an awful feeling that poor Charlie had to come here and do nothing but blend into the background.

  ‘I know what you’re thinking. I can’t help it that I like my house to be minimalist and clutter free. She is allowed to make as much mess as she wants in here and, believe me, she does.’

  ‘How do you get on with Charlie? It can be tough taking on someone else’s kid, and especially if they need a little extra support.’

  Phillipa crossed to the bed. Picking up a large fluffy unicorn she sat down clutching the soft toy.

  ‘I never wanted kids, ever. I like them; I’m just not very good with them. Some people are natural parents, others aren’t. I’m afraid I’m not.’

  ‘Do you not like Charlie?’

  ‘I wouldn’t do anything to hurt her, if that’s what you’
re asking. I wouldn’t say I don’t like her, it’s just she doesn’t like me. She won’t do as she’s told when it’s the two of us; she hates coming here and it’s awkward, but I get that Amanda needs a break and Brett is her dad.’

  ‘How about Charlie and Brett, do they get on?’

  ‘Yes, they do. She loves him. I know he’s done nothing but be argumentative and aggressive since we found out that Charlie was missing, but he’s not usually this way.’

  ‘He was with Amanda.’

  ‘You can hardly blame him. She left Charlie whilst she went to her friend’s for a drink and didn’t bother to check she was okay until the next day. What kind of mother is she to be able to do that?’

  ‘A tired, stressed one. We all make mistakes, only some of them can be life-changing and the worst decision of your life.’

  Phillipa looked at her and nodded. ‘Yes, I suppose none of us is perfect.’

  ‘You have a lovely home.’

  ‘Thank you, I work hard to pay for it.’

  ‘Oh, this is your house?’

  She nodded. ‘Of course, I love Brett but he doesn’t bring in enough money to pay for the food and wine bill, let alone the mortgage. His temper gets him into a bit of trouble at work and he has to change companies frequently. He’s in the process of setting up his own painting company though, which will be better for him in the long run I think.’

  ‘Is he a violent man? You said his temper gets the better of him. Do you think he’d ever hurt Charlie?’

  ‘God no, absolutely not.’

  ‘What about you? Has he ever hit you?’

  There was a pause this time, and it gave Morgan the answer she needed without the woman opposite her opening her mouth.

  ‘No, I wouldn’t put up with that kind of behaviour.’ As she spoke, the unicorn fell to the floor and, as she bent to pick it up, the side of her shirt rose up. There was vivid blue and yellow bruise mottling the skin on her side. Phillipa saw her staring and quickly tugged it back down. She stood up, placing the soft toy on the bed and walked towards the door. Morgan followed and whispered, ‘You can ask for help if you need it. I’m a phone call away.’