‘You fit?’ Dylan said to Larry twenty minutes later when he walked past him, chatting and laughing with two of the typists, on his way to the briefing room.
‘You bet,’ he said, downing the coffee he’d snatched from Lisa’s desk. The pretty young girl from admin giggled at his grimace. ‘No milk or sugar? You need to get a life.’ Larry leaned on her desk and whispered into her ear, ‘Stick with me and I’ll show you the world,’ giving her a wink as he left.
Dylan didn’t need to turn around to know it was Larry that was hurrying down the corridor behind him moments later, because the strength of his aftershave gave him away. Approaching the briefing room, he slowed down to allow Larry to catch up. ‘When are you going to grow up?’ he asked as they reached the door.
Larry grinned. ‘Never, I hope,’ he said, putting his hand on the door handle. ‘But I am going to cut down on my drinking, if that’s what you mean.’
‘Of course you are,’ scoffed Dylan as he squeezed past him. ‘Or do you really mean it?’
Larry nodded emphatically.
Heading a morning briefing when all the shifts collided and the whole office was working at the same time always felt like the start of a new adventure to Detective Inspector Dylan, especially with Detective Sergeants Larry Banks and Dawn Farren at his side, and this day was no different. The number of people in attendance meant that not all the team could sit around the table; some staff had to perch around the periphery of the room.
Dawn sat at the front of the room, two empty seats alongside her awaiting their arrival. From her buff-coloured file she produced the information Dylan and the team needed to be briefed about. All eyes were on her until Lisa brought in plates of warm toast and butter, and hot drinks were placed on the table before them. Much better in Dylan’s view that the team were fed and watered and ready to listen, rather than fidgeting in their seats willing the meeting to be over.
Larry adjusted his cuffs for the second time in two minutes. He looked very smart in his designer suit and shiny shoes, a total transformation from earlier. If he’d meant what he said, there were going to be fraught nerves and many other withdrawal symptoms, Dylan was more than aware, but he would support his friend and colleague as much as he could, rather than see him become an addict.
There had been a couple of brace and bit burglaries overnight but, apart from that, it had been relatively quiet. When Larry gave his update on the issues that had occurred in Dylan’s absence he tapped the table with his pen. The light caught his shiny cufflinks. The dandy detective. Dylan smiled. He was pleased to see Larry back on form.
‘The burglar is linking the crimes nicely for us. So, once he is identified, traced and arrested,’ said Larry, ‘he’ll have a hell of a job disproving his involvement, just so long as we recover the brace and bit used in his possession.’
Detective Constable Ned Granger leaned back and crossed his arms across his chest, just above his beer belly. ‘Why do we need to recover the brace and bit in his possession?’ he asked, tapping his foot.
‘Because,’ Larry snapped, his eyes locking on to Ned’s, ‘the drill holes from this make of drill will all be the same size and will match the bit, so we need to find it in his possession to show it’s his, you numpty!’
Ned held Larry’s stare and lifted his hand to scratch an already stubbly chin while he pondered Larry’s answer. Dylan could see the mischief in him, as he tried to come up with something else to say that he knew would rub the detective sergeant up the wrong way.
‘If uniform got their heads out of their arses, they might catch them on the job, and then we could deal with serious stuff,’ was the best Ned could muster. This time his jibe was addressed to Vicky Hardacre, the younger, blonde PC who was with the team on secondment, and who sat next to him.
Dylan could hear a couple of the others rustling their paperwork and he watched Larry’s facial muscles contract and his mouth tighten as if he was about to yell something abusive.
‘Any MISPERS we should be aware of?’ started Dylan.
‘Yes, sir, there have been two separate reports of two girls going missing from home, not connected, as far as we are aware and – as far as we know – they don’t know each other. The only thing they have in common appears to be that they are both fourteen years of age.’
‘So, both vulnerable.’
‘Yes, boss.’
‘And what are the circumstances?’
‘The first is a Tiffany Shaw, who is described as a good, clean-living girl and from a respectable family. Her mother is reported to have been the last to see her yesterday when she left after breakfast, purporting to be off to spend the day with “friends”. Her parents have checked with all her known associates but have had no luck tracing who she was supposed to be meeting, or where,’ said Dawn.
Dylan frowned. ‘I gather she didn’t turn up at school this morning either.’
‘No, sir.’
‘And she’s never gone missing previously?’
Dawn shook her head.
Police Constable Vicky Hardacre cleared her throat. ‘Her friends have hinted to me this morning, sir, that she might be seeing an older boy.’ She paused.
Dylan’s eyebrows rose in anticipation.
‘But they are unaware of who he is. Or that’s what they’re telling me.’
‘And, you don’t believe them?’
Vicky shrugged her shoulders. ‘Her parents refute the accusation as “absolute nonsense” and tell me she has no interest in boys whatsoever.’
Ned turned his head in Vicky’s direction and muttered, ‘She’ll be the first fourteen-year-old girl who hasn’t an interest in boys that I know of.’ He sniggered.
‘What’s that DC Granger?’ Dylan asked. Ned Granger excused himself to answer the phone he extracted from his jacket pocket. Vicky looked puzzled: she hadn’t heard his phone ring. Ned perched on the edge of the desk next to the door and listened intently, as it seemed.
‘So, we follow the usual procedures, liaise with uniform to see what priority enquiries are already in motion and ask them whether any searches are taking place. I want us to support them when and where we can.’
‘The second missing girl is a regular, boss. Tanya King: well known to the welfare authorities and to us. According to the night report, uniform have liaised with the children’s home where she lives and asked them to let us know when she turns up.’
Larry leaned forward and poured himself another strong coffee. ‘I don’t think we need to be concerned about Tanya going AWOL. Everyone who has dealt with her knows she’s streetwise. Only yesterday I had to eject her from an off-licence. She had been drinking and was causing bother, as usual.’ Larry took a sip of his drink. ‘She told me she was on her way to see her boyfriend, Tariq, and we all know what that means. She’ll no doubt turn up sooner rather than later.’
Dylan stood up and started pacing around the room, as he often did in briefings when he was thinking. ‘Okay, to start with, whatever your views about them, they are both young girls and both vulnerable. We need to trace them ASAP. So, especially while there isn’t much happening elsewhere, I want you to assist uniform as best you can and, while you’re at it, let’s rattle some cages at the children’s home, and find out exactly what’s going on with Tanya.’
Dylan was standing by the door, seeming to all intents and purposes ready to close the meeting, when he put his hand out, took the phone from Ned and pressed the loudspeaker button. The dial tone rang out loud and clear. He raised an eyebrow at Ned. ‘You’re such a tosser, Ned Granger. My office now and, on the way, make yourself useful and put the kettle on.’
Ned, red-faced, nipped through the door to the sound of the others’ laughter.
Chapter Eleven
Numerous enquiries were made throughout the day but by five o’clock neither of the girls had been traced or had turned up at their home addresses. The search was widening under Dylan’s instruction but, with no new leads to work from or with, he decided to ret
urn home to see how Isla was faring, planning to return to review the MISPER situation in a few hours. He was growing more and more concerned for the girls as the passing hours quickly turned into a day. Sometimes when children went missing it was blatantly obvious they had been snatched, at other times not so; but all missing children or vulnerable adults required a professional approach in their investigation and that would be exactly what would happen in Dylan’s safe pair of hands.
When Dylan arrived home, to his surprise, Kay was dressed up to the nines, make-up on and all ready to go out.
‘Going somewhere?’ he asked, trying his best to appear nonchalant.
‘Have you forgotten?’ she said, head turned away, as she fiddled with an earring with the aid of the mirror over the mantlepiece. She felt sick to her stomach seeing the confused look on Dylan’s face reflected in the mirror, clearly caused by her actions, and hearing the pained tone of his voice.
‘It’s that blasted reunion,’ she said, trying to relieve his angst. ‘I told you about it ages ago, don’t you remember?’ Kay turned to him, a half-hearted smile pasted on her face. ‘I’m sorry. I won’t be that long, not more than a couple of hours at the most. I really wish I didn’t have to go, but I promised to pick some of the gang up,’ she said, standing on her tiptoes to kiss Dylan on the cheek.
Dylan remained perfectly still, his face devoid of all emotion.
Kay rubbed her forehead, the way he knew she always did when she was thinking. Then she busied herself collecting her things together and shrugged her arms into her best jacket. When had she become such a proficient liar?
‘I’ll need to take the car,’ she said.
‘Okay,’ said Dylan, his voice flat. ‘But when you get home, I’ll need to go back to the station. We have two vulnerable young teenage girls missing.’
Kay looked shocked and briefly felt a sense of guilt, but the moment passed quickly.
‘Where’s Isla?’ Dylan asked.
Kay lowered her voice, her eyes darting up towards the ceiling. ‘Up in her room where she’s been most of the day.’
‘How’s she been?’ Dylan’s voice was full of concern.
‘How do you expect an addict to be when they’ve gone cold turkey?’ Kay snapped as she raised her eyebrows at him.
Dylan tutted. ‘When did you become so insensitive?’
Kay picked up her handbag and held out her hand. ‘Keys!’ she demanded.
Dylan gripped the car keys tightly in his jacket pocket. ‘Did you manage to phone the doctor?’
Kay checked her watch. She seemed flustered.
‘Well, did you?’
‘Yes, yes, of course I did. But they can’t offer her an appointment until a week on Wednesday.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘And a fat lot of good that is!’
‘Did you explain the situation?’
Kay scowled and drew back from her husband. ‘What do you take me for, a complete imbecile? There’s a pizza in the freezer for your tea. Like I said, I’ll be a couple of hours max.’
Dylan watched her turn and walk through the hallway, slamming the front door shut behind her without a backward glance.
He walked back to the foot of the stairs, put his hand on the bannister and listened. All was quiet and still above. Next to the telephone, there was a framed photo of him and Kay that had been taken by Isla on Christmas Day. He picked it up and, staring at it, carried it into the kitchen. He was thoughtful. Happy times. His smile quickly fell from his lips. Who was he kidding? He placed the photograph face down on the table as he started to prepare a brew. He stood for a moment, recalling that Christmas day … Now he thought about it, it was very unlike Isla to have chosen to wear a baggy jumper and tracksuit bottoms over the new clothes she’d just been bought. ‘Keeping them for best,’ she’d said, and he’d bought the lie. Consumed as he was in work, it had been easier not to think about it. In the same way, he’d known deep down back then that something was not quite right between him and Kay.
‘Pizza again!’ Isla’s words startled him. ‘And it’s a crap one!’
Dylan gave her a lopsided smile, put his arms around her shoulders and placing a kiss on the side of her head, he squeezed her tight. ‘Hey, we’ve eaten worse,’ he said, and sighed.
‘What’s with Mum wearing stockings anyway?’ Isla’s dark-rimmed eyes were suddenly dancing, teasing.
‘Was she?’ Dylan said, surprised. His stomach churned. ‘How’d you know?’
‘I watched her getting ready. She didn’t know I was watching her. She looked nice, don’t you think?’
Dylan nodded as he bent to put the pizza in the oven; he couldn’t look at her, fearful she might notice the sadness on his face.
Twenty minutes later, Isla sat at the table, a slice of pizza hanging from her fingers. She picked the photograph up firmly in her other hand. She smiled, there were tears in her eyes. ‘Aw … That’s a lovely picture of you and Mum,’ she said. ‘What would I do without you?’
Dylan reached out and softly stroked her arm. ‘The feeling is mutual,’ he said. ‘I hear you can’t see a doctor until next week?’
‘Yeah, the receptionist was really great, though. She sent a message through to the doctor and said he’d more than likely ring me sooner. I also stopped off at the chemist and the pharmacist there was great, too. He gave me lots of information to read and advised tablets for stomach cramps – in fact, I think they’ve helped already.’
‘Your mother never said she’d been to the doctors?’
‘She hadn’t. I went on the bus.’
Dylan’s brain was in turmoil. Had Kay really left their weak and damaged daughter to make her own way to the doctor? His logical side urged him to deal with the situation as quickly as he could. It also reminded him that to act in haste was to repent at leisure. The emotional side of his brain wanted to believe that Kay was not lying to him and he felt guilty for questioning her. But why, then, was she acting so strangely?
‘I’ve read up on what to expect, Dad. I know I’ll get withdrawal symptoms, mood swings and suchlike, and I also know they will be hard to cope with, but the reading material they’ve given me says that they’ll subside. Besides,’ she said, picking up her plate and planting a kiss on the top of Dylan’s head on her way to the bin, where she deposited the uneaten pizza, ‘I also know while you and Mum are here to help me, I can conquer anything.’ She scowled and patted her stomach. ‘I just wish the cramps would hurry up and go.’ Isla went to the doorway and leaned against the frame.
‘You’ll tell me if you are worried about anything, won’t you? I don’t want you trying to do this all on your own,’ said Dylan.
‘’Course I will,’ she said with a little laugh before she turned away to leave him alone with his thoughts.
Kay pulled into the lay-by. She looked solemnly at herself in the driver’s mirror and wondered for the millionth time if she was doing the right thing. She knew that, whatever she decided, in the end her life was never going to be the same as it had been before Kenny Fisher.
Fisher’s car pulled up behind her. He had been waiting for her for a while, parked up in another lay-by further up the road so that he could watch her arrival. She saw the look of utter satisfaction on his face when he saw her step out of her car and get into his.
It was too late for Kay to back out now, but that wasn’t the reason for her wanting to go out with him tonight. She wondered briefly how Dylan would react if he found out, but the conclusion she arrived at was not one she wanted to think about right now. If she played her cards right tonight, he would never need to find out about them. She rubbed her forehead as if trying to remove her husband from her thoughts. Dylan would be hurt, that much she knew for sure. But why should she care about that? It was his continual neglect of her feelings that had driven her to be here in the first place.
The Miller’s restaurant in Redchester had been impressively restored, embracing the building’s history. Housed in what had been an old bakery, the oak-beamed bar showcase
d a working mill wheel. The staff seemed to know Kenny Fisher well, or perhaps it was merely his appeal that made it seem so; everyone instantly warmed to his friendliness and charm.
Sitting at the beautifully dressed dining table, overlooking the most amazing views of the moorland, Kenny placed his hand possessively over hers. She took three long, deep breaths, holding back tears; though whether they were tears of fear or sadness she did not know.
‘I’m sorry, Kenny, but I can only stop for a couple of hours. Dylan’s got to go back to work and I need to get back to Isla.’
‘Let’s eat first, then talk, shall we?’ Kenny clicked his fingers and summoned the waiter. ‘Champagne! The best you’ve got for my girl!’
Kenny was in a curiously joyous, if not jubilant mood. Kay tried to stay calm. Gulping down the wine in the crystal champagne flute, she prayed that it would give her the strength she needed to stand firm; furthermore, she conceded that after the second glass she would need it just to give her enough strength to get her behind off the chair.
His talk centred around her leaving Dylan; hers around the fact that it was simply not possible. Her words appeared to fall on deaf ears: deaf, sober ears, as Kenny didn’t drink and drive.
Kay ate her food quickly. If the conversation didn’t give her indigestion, then gulping her food down surely would. She didn’t want another argument with Dylan about being late and she was mindful that she and Kenny still needed to have the conversation she’d planned in her head earlier.
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