The Hiding Place

by Helen Phifer

  ‘What about Brett? It seems pretty convenient that he stormed out of his house earlier after we spoke to him and not long after Charlie turns up.’

  ‘We need to process his pickup, but before we can do that we’re going to have to get a warrant, and I don’t know if the judge will sign it tonight. We have no real evidence to say he has anything to do with this, apart from the fact that he lied about being late and is an arsehole.’

  ‘Maybe we should let him go see Charlie, have someone keep an eye on his movements. If he suddenly begins to power-wash the truck, bring him in?’

  Ben nodded. ‘I’ll go to the hospital; you can go home after we’ve spoken to Amanda if you want.’

  Morgan was aware of the time, it was way past seven and she felt bad because she’d told Fin she’d meet him for a drink at eight – but how could she go home now, she needed to see this through – maybe she could meet him later, because by the time this was over, she was going to need a stiff drink.

  ‘I’m good, thanks. I’ll come with you to the hospital.’

  Ben opened his mouth, then closed it. Whatever he had been about to say stopped in its tracks. She set off driving in the direction of Charlie’s house. Just a few streets before she reached it, she pulled over, slamming the brakes on and jumped out of the car. She couldn’t stop the bile that had been slowly burning its way from her stomach up her oesophagus, and she leant into the bushes at the side of the road retching. Her legs wanted to fold in on themselves and she wanted to sink down on the cold, damp grass. She was finding it hard to breathe and could hear the small gasps coming out of her mouth. The passenger door opened, and she felt her cheeks burning as much as her mouth with shame and embarrassment. Tears were freely flowing down her cheeks at the horror and injustice of it all.

  ‘It’s okay, take your time.’

  She couldn’t even look at him. She was an emotional wreck not to mention ashamed for crying in front of him. Morgan didn’t do crying in public much – this was as much as she gave.

  ‘It’s normal, everyone expects us to be hardened to it, professional, but it doesn’t matter how long you’ve worked in the force when you come across something as bad as this.’ He paused. ‘Well, you wouldn’t be normal if it didn’t affect you in some way.’

  He passed her a screwed-up piece of kitchen roll that he’d pulled from his trouser pocket, and she wrinkled her nose at it.

  ‘It’s clean; I haven’t wiped my nose with it.’

  Nodding her head, she took it from him, using it to blot her eyes, pat her mouth then blow her nose. Ben got back inside the car, and she leant against the side of the bonnet taking in deep breaths of cold night air. Letting it cool her burning cheeks and lungs. After a couple of minutes, she got back into the car.

  ‘Sorry.’

  ‘Don’t be, I’m saving mine for when I get home. Should I drive?’

  She shook her head and pressed the start button. The engine purred back to life and she continued the short drive to Charlie’s house, where she parked outside the front. The door was opened by the family liaison officer, an older woman called Jill, in her fifties, who was coming up for retirement soon after nearly thirty years of service. She whispered, ‘Is it her?’

  They stepped inside, and Ben glanced at the smiling photograph of Charlie hanging on the hall wall. He nodded. ‘I think so, but we need a positive ID. Does she know?’

  ‘I told her we found a body, so she’s aware.’

  Amanda rushed into the hall. ‘What are you whispering about? Don’t tell me it’s Charlie because I’m telling you now it’s not her. She’s not dead, you’re mistaken; she’s coming back any minute now, and if you lot were any good at your jobs, she’d have been home ages ago.’

  The woman was wild-eyed, her hair a tangled mess of knots. Morgan couldn’t look her in the eye. Ben took hold of Amanda’s arm, gently leading her into the living room and guiding her to sit down on the sofa. He sat next to her and took hold of her hand. She stared at him, then at their hands, as if wondering why this man she didn’t know was holding on to her. She shook her head.

  ‘It’s not her, it’s not my Charlie.’

  ‘I’m very sorry, Aman—’

  The sound of the slap as the palm of her hand hit the soft flesh of his cheek echoed around the room, stunning Ben and stopping him from finishing his sentence. Morgan watched in horror as Jill leapt forward, grabbing hold of both of Amanda’s hands before she launched herself at Ben again.

  ‘Don’t you come in here and tell me she’s dead. How dare you because I know she isn’t. I’d know if she was – I’d have felt something and I didn’t – I’m her mum.’

  She was standing in front of him now, her feet apart, her whole body – although Morgan could see she was visibly quivering – was defiant, daring him to say the words that no mother ever wanted to hear. He looked up at Jill who had hold of Amanda, and she nodded at him.

  ‘The body of a young girl, aged around nine or ten, has been discovered near to Piggy Lane play park. She matches the description of Charlie; I’ve seen her and there is a likeness to your daughter. I need you to come to the hospital to identify her and tell us if it’s her or not. I’m very sorry, this is not what we expected. Is there anyone you’d like us to contact for you? Would you like Brett to do the ID or to come along?’

  She collapsed to the floor, her entire body folding in on itself, and began to sob as all the fight was sucked from her and a black hole of soul-crushing grief opened up inside her chest. Jill fell to the floor next to her, rubbing Amanda’s back and nodded at Ben. ‘I’ll bring her to the hospital after we’ve tried to contact someone to be with her.’

  ‘I’ll leave you to it then. Should we go and find Brett?’

  ‘Noo.’ Amanda looked up at him. ‘I want to do it. If he’d picked her up…’ She left the words hanging in the air.

  Morgan thought and if you had checked she was here, at home, tucked up safe in her bed but she never said it. She knew right at this moment it was easier to blame everyone else than yourself. At some point the blame and the guilt would come crashing down on Amanda, and Morgan wondered if she would ever recover from it all. Could you move on with your life if the most precious thing you had was brutally taken away from you? Morgan had lost her most precious thing, her mother, at such an early age but had been too young to understand and had managed to move on with her life. She didn’t know if Amanda Standish would fare so well.

  Morgan knew she wasn’t going to be meeting Fin anytime in the next few hours and excused herself to go and sit in the car. It was only fair that she tried to pass a message on to him. Outside she looked around the quiet street. Who took Charlie from this seemingly mundane, rather ordinary street, and why? Taking out her phone, she searched for the number for The Black Dog. She rang the pub and asked Mark, the landlord, to try and find Fin, to tell him she might not make it. She’d gone to school with his son, Mattie, who was one of the few people she still spoke to from back then. Saving the phone number, she slid it back into her pocket as Ben knocked on the window, making her jump. She put the window down.

  ‘Are we going to the mortuary?’

  He blew his cheeks out and nodded. She could see the tears pooling in the corner of his eyes and wanted to jump out of the car and hug him, but it wouldn’t have looked very professional. His cheek still had faint fingermarks where Amanda had slapped him hard, and she felt sorry for him. They’d tried, they really had, yet here they were about to go and see a child lying on a cold, steel table in the mortuary, and it didn’t matter how hard they tried not to blame themselves, she knew they both would.

  Sixteen

  At the hospital, Ben approached the reception desk at A&E and showed his ID badge to the guy sitting behind the desk. He pressed a button which opened the double doors and gave them entry into the hospital, which was out of bounds to the general public this time of night. They didn’t speak. The waiting room was full and every person sitting there waiting a turn to be s
een was watching them. Once they were through the doors and on their way to the mortuary relatives’ room, Morgan’s stomach began to churn, and there was a heavy feeling in her chest. A part of her wanted to run away from here, where the clinical smell of disinfectant and suffering lingered in the air. This was a lot of responsibility for anyone never mind someone her age. She was only twenty-three. A lot of her school friends worked in the local supermarkets, blissfully unaware of how truly rubbish life could be. They could go out drinking and partying whenever they liked and still go to work hung-over, because it didn’t matter if they didn’t get someone’s online shop right. Putting a bottle of semi-skimmed milk in the basket instead of skimmed wouldn’t kill anyone; no one’s life hung in the balance because of it. Unlike the responsibility her job carried. An overwhelming feeling of exhaustion and despair fell across her shoulders, weighing her down like a heavy cloak.

  Cain was waiting for them on the hard plastic seats outside the mortuary. He stood up and whispered, ‘Jill has just arrived with Amanda; they’re waiting inside.’

  Ben was staring at her, and she realised that she’d stopped dead in the middle of the corridor, lost in her thoughts. A look of concern on Ben’s face made her snap out of it, and she felt a little better. She did this because she wanted to make a difference and save lives. Solve crimes and put the bad guys and girls where they belonged. Cain opened the door to the family room, stepping inside, and Ben reached out, his warm hand on the small of her back. He whispered, ‘Are you okay? Can you deal with this?’

  She swallowed the lump that had formed in the back of her throat and nodded.

  ‘It’s hard, but Charlie needs us more than ever. We’re all she has to find out what happened and make it right.’

  ‘I know.’

  He took his hand away and the warmth dissipated. He walked into the small room, and she followed. Sitting on a low, dark brown leather sofa were Amanda and Jill.

  ‘Why can’t I see her? I want to see my little girl.’

  The FLO patted her arm. ‘They’re making her comfortable, Mandy. You want her to be taken care of and that’s what they’re doing. As soon as they’ve done that someone will let you in to see Charlie. It won’t be much longer.’

  Amanda nodded. Her eyes were red and puffy from the non-stop crying, and Morgan felt bad for her. At least they had found Charlie in a reasonable state and she could be seen by her mum. Morgan couldn’t begin to imagine how difficult it would be if she’d been badly decomposed.

  Ben tried once more to speak to her, standing a safe distance away in case she tried to slap him again.

  ‘Mandy, I know this is truly difficult for you. We’ve been to the scene where Charlie was found and there is very little evidence to tell us what happened. Whoever did this took her somewhere first and then decided to leave her there. Can you think of anyone who might take her or want to hurt her? Do you think Brett would do this?’

  She shook her head. ‘Brett, no way. He’s an idiot and he has a wicked temper on him with a short fuse, but he wouldn’t hurt Charlie then leave her on her own in the dark and the cold. I just know he wouldn’t do that. He’s an arse but he’s not a monster.’

  The door opened and Declan walked in, followed by Susie, his assistant, whose blue hair was now a magnificent shade of magenta, making the cramped room even harder to breathe in.

  Declan took a seat next to Amanda. He held out his hand.

  ‘I’m Declan, the pathologist who is going to be taking care of Charlie.’

  She took hold of his hand, gripping it tight.

  ‘You will be able to see your daughter very soon, but I have to tell you that she sustained a serious head injury and it looks a little misshapen on that side of her head. Are you on your own, Amanda? Is there anyone we can contact to be with you?’

  ‘It’s just the two of us, always has been since her dad left for another woman. I don’t want anyone here; I just want my little girl.’

  There wasn’t a dry eye in the room. Declan blinked a couple of times and stood up.

  ‘If you’re ready, we’ll open the curtains. Charlie is tucked up on the other side waiting to see you.’

  ‘I don’t want to see her through a window. I want to touch her and kiss her. I need to tell her how much I love her and I’m sorry.’ Her voice trembled as she spoke, but she didn’t cry.

  Declan glanced at Ben, urging him to step in but he didn’t, and Morgan knew why: he was afraid of upsetting her again.

  ‘I’m sorry, at the moment we can’t let you and Charlie be together because we need to check her for evidence. There could be some on her clothing or skin that could lead us to whoever did this, and we need to find out who has done this, urgently. Once this has been done and she is released to the undertaker, you can spend as much time as you need with her.’

  Morgan nodded, and thought to herself, yes we do need to find who did this before it happens again.

  Susie left the room to go and open the curtains.

  Amanda was nodding and Morgan could tell that she wasn’t taking much in of what they were saying.

  ‘Can I see her now? I want to see her.’

  The curtains opened, and Amanda jumped up. She placed her hands against the thick glass and pressed her face to it. Staring at the small, motionless figure on the other side, speechless. Morgan glanced up and was relieved to see they had positioned Charlie so the head injury wasn’t blindingly obvious.

  Ben asked softly, ‘Is this your daughter, Charlie?’

  She moved her head up and down. A low, keening sound came from her throat, and Morgan wanted to put her hands over her ears. She didn’t want to be here and watch the woman who was rocking back and forth as her grief filled the room and whisper, ‘That’s my baby girl.’

  Ben’s shoulders slumped and he let out a sigh. He looked defeated, and Declan could see this along with Morgan and Cain. Jill had her hand on Amanda’s back patting it gently. Declan nodded at Susie to close the curtains.

  ‘Wait, what are you doing?’

  It was Jill who spoke. ‘They need to do their job, Mandy, like the doctor said. They have to check for trace evidence. The sooner we let them get on with that, the sooner they can release Charlie’s body to the undertaker, where you will be able to sit and hold her hand, have some time together. Should we get you home?’

  Amanda’s shoulders slumped, her head lolled forward and she nodded. Jill linked an arm through hers, walking her to the door. Morgan opened it for them and smiled at Jill, who looked almost as exhausted as Amanda. Jill turned to Declan, ‘Let me know when.’

  He nodded. ‘First thing in the morning. I’ll be in touch.’

  All three of them watched as Jill led Amanda down the dark, narrow corridor away from the mortuary.

  Declan muttered, ‘That was hard. I’ll be in early to do the post-mortem. Can you be here by ten? I’d do it now, but it’s been a long day and I want a clear head before I start. Not that I expect to get much sleep tonight after this, but a couple of hours will do.’

  ‘We’ll be here, won’t we, Morgan?’

  She wished she could say no but nodded. Unable to find the words to speak out loud, she needed a drink more than ever and knew she could go and find Fin. They made their way back towards A&E. ‘There’s nothing we can do here. Let’s call it a night and get some rest. Tomorrow is going to be a long day, a very long day.’

  He emphasised the last sentence, and Morgan knew what he was getting at: he was telling her not to get too drunk because he needed her with a clear head. She didn’t say anything. She knew she should go home, shower and go to bed. Not bother meeting Fin for a drink, but being stubborn she knew that she would, especially because of Ben’s reaction to it. She just wanted a few hours of respite from the grim reality her life had turned into.

  He dropped her off at her apartment, and she wondered if he would go and see Emily. She suspected they had been seeing each other since the events a few months back, but he never switched the engine of
f. Instead he turned and drove away without a second glance. She pulled out her phone and dialled the number for The Black Dog, and once again she asked if Fin was there.

  The voice on the other end said, ‘If you mean the posh southerner with a face like a slapped arse, yes he’s still here. Sitting by the fire, reading a book and feeling sorry for himself.’

  She laughed. ‘Please tell him I’ll be there soon and to hold on. If he has to leave, can you give him my number?’ She recited her number and hung up, dashing into her apartment to freshen up and get changed into something a little less conservative that didn’t smell of vomit or death.

  Seventeen

  The Black Dog wasn’t busy. She saw Fin sitting on his own at a table in the corner, his nose in a book, nursing an almost-empty pint, and felt guilty. Then an image of Charlie’s lifeless body lying in the cold street filled her mind, it was so vivid it made her close her eyes for a moment to acknowledge the horror of the last few hours. She really didn’t want to be here but she felt as if she would scream if she didn’t let off a bit of steam and try to block out that tragic picture just for a little while; Fin was still here and hadn’t given up on her, which was a good sign.

  ‘Sorry I’m late, today has been, it’s been awful.’

  He looked up at her and smiled; it was a genuinely warm, friendly smile which reached the corners of his eyes and she instantly liked him that little bit more.

  ‘You came. I thought you were just humouring me to get rid of me. When I got your last message, I decided to hang around just in case. It’s not like I have anything else to do and I’m glad that I did.’

  Morgan squeezed behind the table, sitting next to him.

  ‘Of course I came. I had every intention of coming but my job is very unpredictable. It’s not the kind of job that you can close your laptop at five and leave it all behind even though sometimes I wish that I could.’

  ‘Oh, I know and I understand because neither is mine. I meant I’m surprised that you wanted to come and speak to me. Isn’t it one of the in-house rules no fraternising with the media?’