by Helen Phifer
‘I’ll wait for CSI then, good luck.’
‘Should I leave Des with you, Morgan? Are you desperate for company?’
‘Not that desperate, thanks. I’m good. There’s really no point if it’s just a matter of waiting for them to finish. You can, however, leave me a car to sit in. I’m not standing around freezing in this for hours. It’s forecast heavy rain later; I’d like somewhere dry to supervise from.’
Ben smiled at her and threw the car keys in her direction. She caught them and wondered if she should go in and take a look when everyone had left. Then decided against it; she didn’t want to compromise anything that may be evidential if there was any there. Instead, she drove the car Ben had arrived in to Vince’s house and waited for the van to drive off, then she pulled into the empty space right in front of the house. The two women came out with Vince’s mum, who looked confused but happy enough to be going with them. Morgan waved at her and she smiled at her then got into the car. Morgan began to Google ‘Eleanor Fleming’, to see what the newspaper reports said. There was nothing, except ‘Teenage Girl Suspected of Running Away’; underneath the caption were two photos, one of Eleanor, who looked like your average teenager, albeit a rather conservatively dressed one in a long black dress that went almost to her ankles, and another of Detective Sergeant Geoff Peterson, a rather sturdy man with a shock of white hair and a ruddy complexion. She carried on scrolling and found a small article about the funeral arrangements for Geoff Peterson. She let out a groan: she wasn’t going to be talking to him this side of her life.
Thirty-Three
CSI came out of Vincent’s house with a handful of evidence bags, and Morgan got out of the car and walked to meet Wendy, who was followed by Isla.
‘That doesn’t look very impressive.’
Wendy shrugged, passing the house key to Morgan. ‘It isn’t, there is nothing in there to suggest he hid Charlie in there or has hidden Macy. I’ve bagged up some muddy trainers in case he trampled through the woods in them – we can get the soil tested, but even that’s not much because the woods are a popular place to go walking. A couple of empty cola cans and sweet wrappers, to check for fingerprints, but there is literally no evidence that is going to help us find Macy.’
‘Damn, Ben is going to be devastated.’
‘He’s not the only one.’
Morgan watched as they loaded the bags into the van, stripped off their protective clothing and then drove back to the station. Clutching the key in her hand, she paused at the gate to Vince’s house and wondered if she should go and take a look herself. Not that she was expecting to find her but she’d been in a similar situation with the Potters’ case and was the one to find them dead in the cellar of their house. She didn’t need gloves; the house had been forensically examined. Locking the car, she took a quick look up and down the street, to make sure Vince wasn’t on his way back, and then she slipped inside, closing the front door behind her, and began to search the house. This wasn’t some large, detached, secluded home with a hidden cellar and they’d checked the attic. Still, she wasn’t giving up that easily. Satisfied there was no cupboard or hidden doors, she went upstairs. There was a ladder to the side of the loft hatch. She leant it against the wall and climbed up it, pushing the hatch open. She pulled herself up into the dusty space and turned on the torch on her phone. Shining it around, she saw it was definitely just the same as it had been when she’d checked with Ben for Charlie. Where are you, Macy? she whispered, then began to climb back down the ladders. She saw a man standing on the landing, who took one look at her and let out a strangled cry.
‘Oh my God,’ Morgan screeched; her heart was pounding. Vincent Jackson’s complexion was paler than hers.
‘Jesus Christ, will you people leave me alone? I’ve had enough of this now. Everyone in the whole street thinks I’ve taken those kids. I told you the other night I didn’t, I haven’t. I’m tired of this.’
‘I’m sorry and yes, you did.’
‘Get out.’
Morgan nodded. She smiled at him and walked past him downstairs and straight out of the front door, furious that no one had phoned her to tell her Vince had been released – that could have turned out disastrous. Her phone began to ring, and she tutted to see Ben’s name.
‘Yes.’
‘We had to release him. We have nothing on him and his solicitor was foaming at the mouth.’
‘Really, thanks for letting me know.’
‘Why, where are you?’
‘I was in his attic, just double-checking, when he tipped up. I almost had a heart attack, Ben.’
‘Jesus, Morgan, what were you doing in there on your own?’
‘I don’t know, hoping that I’d find her like I found the Potters. Well not like that. I want Macy to be alive and full of life but…’ She couldn’t find the words to continue and the silence between them hung in the air until Ben broke it.
‘The search of the woods and river has been called off; it’s too dark now to continue safely. They’ll be out again at first light. There’s been a press release issued to warn parents and carers not to let children outside on their own without adult supervision under any circumstances.’
‘That’s good?’
‘Why don’t you go home? There is literally nothing else we can do.’
‘Are you?’
‘Yes, I am. At some point I need to catch some sleep. It’s Emily’s birthday and we’re going out for a couple of drinks. Do you want to join us? I’m sure she’d love that. She asks about you all the time, Morgan, I think she’d like to be friends.’
‘No, I’m okay, thanks. Have a lovely evening and tell her Happy Birthday from me.’
‘You could tell her yourself.’
She ended the call. If her stomach was churning before, it was in complete turmoil now. She was glad that he’d told her about going for drinks with Emily. It was nice, but it still made her feel this way and she wondered what was wrong with her. She was seeing Fin, so she shouldn’t be remotely bothered by what Ben got up to – this was totally ridiculous – and what did he mean that Emily would like to be friends? That was a weird thing to say. She was nice to her and chatted whenever she saw her. What else did she want from her? She drove back to the station to take this car back and get her knackered old Corsa that had seen better days.
Thirty-Four
Driving home, Morgan decided she was going to lie in bed and read. She didn’t want to see anyone, but as she pulled into the drive and saw Fin’s car parked up, she quickly forgot about those plans. This time she decided she was happy to see him: if Ben could enjoy himself whilst they were in the middle of a high-risk missing child case, then she could kick off her shoes and let down her hair a little too. Despite her initial reservations about Fin, she found that she liked him a little more every time she saw him. He jumped out of the car, and she smiled – he was the kind of good looking you saw in magazines; the sort of man who would model for Gucci or Armani – and she found herself staring at him. He exuded an air of elegance and charm that was the sort brought on by being brought up by wealthy parents, which was why his choice of flat puzzled her. She didn’t know his financial standing but he always seemed to have a wallet bulging with cash and lots of credit cards, so how come he didn’t want to stay in a much nicer place than the one he was in? Then again, who was she to judge? Her apartment was far more expensive than she’d like, but to her being able to live in such a beautiful place was worth every penny. She hadn’t gone to university like some of her friends, so had no extortionate student loans to repay or lots of debt. She got out of the car, and Fin grinned at her. Leaning into the passenger side, he pulled out the biggest bouquet of the most exquisite roses and lilies she had ever seen. He passed them to her along with a bottle of rosé Bollinger and did a little bow. Taking hold of her hand he kissed it.
‘Thank you, they’re beautiful, but what’s the occasion?’
‘Beautiful flowers for a beautiful lady, and, to celebrate.�
�
Morgan smiled. Catching sight of her reflection in the window of his Porsche, she currently looked like she’d just come back from a day walking up the fells. Her bobble hat had flattened her hair, her lipstick had come off hours ago and the tip of her nose was bright red with the cold. She laughed, shaking her head at him, two tiny perfect circles of red appearing on her cheeks.
‘Well in that case you better come inside and see if you can find the glasses you must have mislaid last time you were here.’ An uncomfortable feeling inside her chest took away some of the surprise. They went inside, Fin following her. She shut the door behind him, bolting it. Shrugging off her coat and hat, she hung them in the cupboard and walked to the kitchen, where Fin was already uncorking the champagne.
‘What are we celebrating?’
He smiled at her. ‘My book deal.’
‘Oh, I didn’t know you were writing one. Congratulations, I mean what a fantastic achievement.’
He nodded. ‘God, it’s been so long and I’ve had so many rejections that I don’t even talk about it any more. Why don’t we have a drink and if you’re ready to be bored, I can tell you all about it.’
Placing the flowers in some water, she opened a cupboard and took out the only two wine glasses she owned. ‘Sorry, I’ve never bought champagne so I don’t have any proper glasses.’
‘These are fine, we can fill them up and it saves messing around. I have two more bottles in the car.’
‘I’m just going to freshen up and change out of these damp jeans. I won’t be long.’
She went into her bedroom, which was still an untidy mess from last night. Throwing the duvet back on the bed, she plumped up the pillows and grabbed a pair of shorts and a soft white silk shirt that she only buttoned halfway up, showing a good section of her cleavage. Stripping off the damp clothes, she quickly spritzed herself in deodorant and perfume and got dressed. Brushing her hair, she backcombed it a little and pouted her lips whilst dabbing on her favourite deep red lipstick. Feeling a bit less stuffy, she walked back into the lounge where Finn was waiting for her. He walked up to her, and wrapping his arms around her waist, squeezing tight, he bent down his lips, brushing her cheek.
‘Mm, you always smell good enough to eat.’
She laughed, pulling away from him. ‘Better than my cooking then? I burnt the pasta bake I made this morning.’
He smiled and began expertly unwrapping the wire from the cork. He did it with such ease it struck her that he had done this many times before, because she wouldn’t have a clue where to start. Popping the cork, he held it under her nose. She sniffed and nodded, not quite sure what she was sniffing or what her reaction was supposed to be. The fizz began to leak over the side of the bottle, and he took a glass from the side to catch the fizzing pale pink liquid. When it was almost full he passed it to her. Filling the other, he raised it in the air, clinking it against hers.
‘Cheers, Morgan, here’s to hard work, never giving up and dreams coming true.’
‘Cheers.’ She took a sip. ‘Oh, now this is nice, I could get used to drinking this.’
‘Well if I sell plenty of books, we will drink it for breakfast every day.’
She laughed. ‘Sounds good to me.’
Thirty-Five
Ben was sitting in The Black Dog with Emily, who looked stunning, but he couldn’t concentrate on her conversation because all he kept thinking about was finding Charlie’s killer, Macy – and Morgan. He felt like he was watching a train wreck happen in slow motion and there was nothing he could do to stop it. He wished he’d never asked his friend to do some digging into Finley Palmer’s business; if he was still oblivious, he wouldn’t be feeling this responsible. How could he tell her without admitting that he’d been snooping around when he had no right to? Before he’d left home, he’d read the message and had been so overwhelmed by rage, he’d punched a hole into the new plasterboard wall in the lounge, and now his knuckles were swollen and painful. He’d wished the satisfying crunch as his fist went through it had been Fin’s nose. How dare he come here and do this to her without any thought of the harm he was causing? He could feel a vein throbbing in the side of his temple and hoped he wasn’t about to have a stroke. He was trying to keep calm for Emily’s sake – this was so unfair on her.
‘So, what do you think I should do? Would I make a good police officer or should I stick with teaching?’
‘What?’
‘Should I apply to join the police? They’re advertising. Have you listened to anything I’ve said, Ben?’
‘Yes, I’m sorry. You could try it, I suppose, if it’s something you’ve always wanted to do. If you don’t like it you could go back to teaching.’
‘I suppose I could, yes. I’m just a bit worried about the dead bodies, you know. Would I manage with the smell and all that mess? I don’t know how you and Morgan do it. I suppose you get used to it.’
He stared at her, realising they were on two completely different planets. ‘Excuse me, I have to make a phone call. I won’t be long.’ He left her there at the table, staring after him, as he went outside and rang Morgan. It went to voicemail.
‘Morgan, it’s me, can you ring me back when you get a minute?’
As he went back inside the pub, he hoped his voice hadn’t sounded desperate. Emily had been to the bar and this time there was a bottle of wine in the middle of table. She poured herself a large glass and offered him one, but he shook his head. He might get a call from work, so he was only having one or two lagers.
‘Have you had a nice day? Did you get anything nice?’
He realised he knew very little about her; he didn’t know if she had family to buy her gifts and was glad he’d remembered to pick up some flowers and a card on the way here from the Co-op.
‘Yes, thanks. Have you been busy at work? Any sign of that poor girl?’
‘Very busy, and unfortunately not.’
Emily nodded. Taking a huge mouthful of wine, she stared him in the eye. ‘Did you ask Morgan to come?’
‘Yes, I did. She was going home. She said “Happy Birthday” though, and she’ll see you again.’
He had his fingers crossed under the table. He hated lying and Emily was so nice, but she wasn’t Morgan and he knew this now. He was furious with Fin. He couldn’t bear to see her hurt or treated this way; she deserved so much more. He’d spent many sleepless nights thinking about her and come up with lots of reasons why it wouldn’t ever work between them: he had too much emotional baggage; she wouldn’t understand; they were too alike. The crushing feeling in his chest, knowing that she was currently dating a liar, cheat and a fraud who didn’t care about her, was such a betrayal of her trust. He needed her to phone him back so he could talk to her about it.
‘You’re a terrible liar, Ben. Your eyes go in every direction when you’re not speaking the truth. Please, don’t get me wrong, I don’t mean it in a horrible way. I know you only do it to protect my feelings and that is very noble of you, but…’
Mortified, he took a gulp of lager. ‘But, what?’
‘If you like Morgan so much, why don’t you tell her how you feel? You’re both consenting adults. I think she likes you just as much as you like her.’
‘Am I that transparent?’
She smiled at him, nodding her head. ‘I think that you would make a great couple. I know you’re her boss and she’s younger than you, but at the end of the day it’s what’s inside here that counts.’ She patted her heart. ‘Life is too short not to be happy, Ben, and I like you a lot, but I know I don’t make you happy like she does. I’m a bit forward and always have been. I asked you out, so you don’t need to feel bad for me – it’s not like we’re in a serious relationship. I phoned my friend whilst you were outside, and she’s on her way now; we can get drunk, sink shots and stagger home. You don’t have to worry about leaving me here on my own.’
He reached out and took hold of her hand. ‘Emily, you are such a lovely woman. I’m sorry for spoiling your bi
rthday.’
‘Bah, you haven’t spoilt it. I’m a sucker for a good love story, go see her and tell her how you feel.’
He laughed. Standing up, he bent down and kissed her cheek. ‘Happy Birthday, thank you.’
She waved him away, and he walked out of the pub.
Once he was in his car he wasn’t sure what to do. He didn’t want to ring her, but what choice did he have? She hadn’t answered and he wondered what he should do. He needed to warn her. Was he causing trouble or looking out for her? He didn’t know. What he did know was that he couldn’t stay here and let her get hurt this way. He’d seen the headline for tomorrow’s paper and knew she was going to be devastated. He took a screen shot of the photo he’d been sent and forwarded it on to Morgan. If she didn’t answer his call, hopefully, she’d see the message and smack that smarmy bastard into next week herself.
Thirty-Six
Morgan sipped at the champagne as she took the burnt pasta bake out of the fridge and put it in the oven to reheat.
‘Do you want to eat now or later?’
‘Later is fine, I’m not hungry.’
She didn’t want to say that she was, that she was in fact bloody ravenous, because she’d only eaten a slice of toast this morning and half of a sandwich Ben had shared with her this afternoon. Fin was leaning back on the oversized chair and he patted the space next to him.
‘Come and sit down, you’ve had a long, busy day.’
She squeezed in next to him. The champagne was nice, too nice, and before she knew it she’d drunk the entire glass. He got up, took hold of the bottle and tipped the rest of it into her empty glass. She didn’t argue with him. She felt drunk off the one glass, and her cheeks were flushed. She knew she should have eaten something before she started drinking, but she hadn’t wanted to spoil the moment.