by Vicky Jones
Chapter 6
“Oooh, nice motor. BMW 5 series if I’m not mistaken,” Michelle said as she sidled up behind Rachel. The technician setting up the CCTV footage turned around in his seat and gave her an impressed smile.
“Spot on,” he said. “Special edition too. Some money in that family.” Turning back, he looked at Rachel. “I’ll play it from the beginning. Give me the nod if you want me to pause it.”
“Thanks, Phil.”
Sipping the coffee Michelle had handed her, Rachel watched with eagle eyes as the technician played the tape. The footage was grainy, but Diana Walker’s car was clear to see. Standing by it were two figures.
“That’s Anderson there, and Mrs. Walker. Damn it, you can’t see the side of the car we need. Anderson’s right in front of the panel the scratch is supposed to be on. Oh, hang on, he’s moved.” Michelle leaned closer to the monitor and pointed at the screen. “There. See?”
“Yeah. That’s one big, long scratch. Exactly where it was reported to be. But there’s no footage of him actually doing it. Fuck.” Rachel said.
“Doesn’t mean he didn’t. He at least had the opportunity. He was standing right there. The witness to the argument said he’d heard Anderson say ‘you think you’re better than everybody else’. That could suggest a grudge of some description?” Michelle replied.
“Yeah, possibly. But let’s keep our options open. It’s circumstantial, at best. Something just doesn’t sit right with me. I think I’m going to watch it until the end, then I think we should pay Mr. Anderson a little visit at home, see what his take on the footage is. For all we know, he could have been one of the last people to see Diana Walker.”
“Or the last?” Michelle suggested, raising an eyebrow.
“Let’s not jump to conclusions. We’ll go round, see what his attitude is like when we tell him what we’ve seen on film. I’ll need you and another uniform to come with me. He’s not exactly going to welcome me in for a cuppa.”
Arriving at Toby Anderson’s address, a tiny two-up-two-down grey Cornish stone mid-terraced house on the Lizard high street, Rachel looked between Michelle and the uniformed police officer they’d brought along for backup, then hammered on the dark blue front door.
“Alright, alright, bloody hell,” a startled voice rang out from behind the door. It opened to reveal a young, heavily pregnant woman in her mid-twenties, with dull blonde hair and tired eyes. “What the—?”
“Hello. I’m Detective Inspector Rachel Morrison. Could I speak with Mr. Toby Anderson, please?” Rachel asked.
As the young woman’s response crossed her face, Anderson came storming to the door, his face like thunder. “What the fuck are you doing here? This is my home. I told you earlier, I haven’t done anything wrong and here you are upsetting my fiancée. She’s pregnant, you know.”
“Toby, what’s going on? Why are the police here? You said you would stay out of trouble,” Anderson’s fiancée blurted out, her own face crumbling into confused panic.
“It’s OK, babe, you go see to the dinner. I’ll sort this out. Go on,” Anderson reassured, ushering her away down the hall. When she was out of earshot, his softened face turned back to fury as he stared at Rachel. “Now, you look here. You’ve got no right coming here. What is it I’m supposed to have done that’s worth you freaking out my girlfriend?”
“I just wanted to ask you a few more questions. Can we come in, please? I’m sure you don’t want people in the area asking why you’ve got three coppers on your doorstep, do you now, Mr. Anderson?”
Anderson stood back and let them pass into his hallway.
“Michelle, go and check on the fiancée. Calm her down. Ask her if she knows anything,” Rachel whispered to her, before turning back to Anderson. “So, we’ve reviewed the CCTV, Mr. Anderson. It would appear that you were one of the last people to see Diana Walker. We saw the scratch, and with that along with a witness to the conversation you and Mrs. Walker had, I’d like to conduct a search of your home.”
Anderson stopped pacing the floor of his cramped living room and glared at Rachel, the merest glimpse of fear in his brown eyes. “What? No. I know my rights. You need a warrant for that.”
Rachel nodded. “True. But I’d rather not have to tell my super, and your boss, that you refused to cooperate. I mean, why would you not want to cooperate? So, if you’ll give us permission now, then we can crack on and eliminate you from our enquiries. That is what you want, isn’t it?” Rachel cocked her head to the hall doorway. “For the sake of your fiancée?”
Anderson clenched his teeth and stepped aside. The uniformed officer with her started filling out the section that dealt with voluntary searches in the A4 sized Premises Searched Book that was tucked under his arm. He filled in the date, location, persons present and time of search and handed it to Anderson to read through and sign.
“Thank you, Mr. Anderson,” Rachel said. “We’ll give you a carbonated copy at the end of the search that explains police powers and your rights and entitlements.” That done, she nodded to the uniformed police officer, who reached into his jacket pocket and took out a pair of blue latex gloves. As he began searching the property, Rachel continued to question Anderson, whose eyes darted around the room in every location the officer checked.
“Can you tell me again your movements on the day Mrs. Walker went missing?” Rachel asked, her pen poised on a fresh page of her notebook.
“What? I’ve said all this… Fuck’s sake. I finished work and came straight home. It was a Tuesday so we watched the soaps, then the missus likes to watch MasterChef,” he added.
The uniformed police officer returned from the hallway with Michelle, who’d left Anderson’s fiancée in the kitchen to do her own search. Both officers shook their heads at Rachel.
“See, I told you you wouldn’t find nothing,” Anderson sneered, as the uniformed officer gave him the carbonated copy of the voluntary search form. He screwed it up and stuck it in his pocket, an arrogant grin on his face. His fiancée wandered into the living room and wrapped her arms around his waist. He lifted one arm and draped it around her. “It’s OK, babe, these officers were just leaving us.”
“I’ll show you out,” Toby’s fiancée said. She walked into the hallway and towards the front door.
“Thank you for your cooperation, Mr. Anderson,” Rachel said. When she was by the door about to leave, and knowing she was out of sight of Anderson, she leaned into Anderson’s fiancée and handed her her card. “Call me if you remember anything. Look after yourself, and that little one,” Rachel added, nodding down at Anderson’s fiancée’s baby bump.
Anderson’s fiancée pocketed it in her dressing gown just as Anderson appeared in the hallway. She shrank slightly and returned to the kitchen.
Anderson reached out to pull Rachel back from the open doorway. “I’m sorry if I seem a bit off, detective.” Rachel turned around and saw a softer look on Anderson’s face. “She’s bipolar, you see. The pregnancy’s just fucked up her medication so she’s all over the place most days. She needs me. I can’t have anything else set her off, you see? Look, what I did before I’ve done my time for. I’m going straight now. Trying to make a go of it. For Becca and the baby. Boss says he’ll support me with the probation officer I’ve got, but if anything goes wrong I’ll be chucked back inside. I can’t have that happen. That’s why I’ve been stressed.”
Rachel looked into his earnest eyes. “Mr. Anderson, if you’ve done nothing wrong, then you’ve got nothing to worry about. I am just trying to do my job. However, I do have one question.”
“What’s that?”
“Do you know where Diana Walker is?”
Anderson shook his head. “No. And that’s God’s honest truth.”
“Do you believe him?” Michelle asked as she put on her seatbelt.
“Actually I do,” Rachel replied starting the engine. “The fiancée corroborated his story, so you said, so there’s little for us to go on.” Her phone buzzed. Whe
re have you been? read the message. Rachel sighed. She put her phone back in her jacket pocket, the message left unanswered.
“Well, I wouldn’t put it past him, doing that. He seems a shifty bastard. Could have easily scared his missus into keeping quiet.”
“Always suspicious, aren’t you, Shell. But, whereas he might seem it, we need proof. Motive, opportunity, and all that, remember?”
“Can’t we just arrest him for being a knob?”
“If only,” Rachel replied, driving off. Her car phone rang. Looking down at the display on her centre console, she groaned, then pressed the answer button. “Hello, Amanda. How are you?”
“I was just calling for an update,” came the reply.
“Nothing new as yet. What about at your end? Apart from her brother, have any other of her friends or family been in contact?”
“No,” Amanda replied in a quiet voice. “Have you spoken to that mechanic yet?”
“Yes, actually, we’ve just been to see him now. Unfortunately, there’s nothing really to further investigate there.”
“What? But why did he key my mum’s car? Surely that alone is enough to charge him with criminal damage if nothing else?”
“The CCTV didn’t show him actually committing the crime. I’m sorry, Amanda, but be assured we are doing everythin—.”
“But… But what about the threat he made to Mum?”
“”We’ve spoken to his boss, and Anderson was suspended from work. Your mother was going to file a report with the police, too. Am I right?”
“Yes. She was. This is why I wanted you to speak to him. What if he had something to do with Mum going missing? You’re the police—you should be bringing him in. He could have Mum locked up somewhere. Or worse. She could be dead in a ditch somewhere. You’re supposed to be helping.” Amanda’s voice quivered.
“We haven’t got enough evidence to make anything stick at the moment, Amanda.” Rachel looked across to Michelle who shook her head.
“You need to speak again with my uncle. He’s due to get a lot of money if Mum ends up dead. Fuck’s sake. Why am I doing your fucking job for you?” Amanda’s words were now saturated with spite.
Rachel’s fingers gripped the wheel tighter as she grit her teeth. “Give me his address again and we’ll go round and make some enquiries.”
“Thank you.”
Michelle took out her notepad and jotted down the address next to Eddie Green’s phone number.
“Thank you, Amanda. I’ll speak to you when we have more information.” She pressed the red end call button on her console.
“Fuck’s sake. First the mechanic is the perp, now the uncle? Amanda needs to back off and let us do our job.”
“Would you? If it was your mum that was missing?” Rachel snapped back in Amanda’s defence.
“Suppose not.” Michelle looked out of the window as they drove back along the palm tree lined road to the station. “What does Adam think of you doing all these long hours lately?”
“He’s used to it,” Rachel replied, eyes focused on the road. “You’re right about the mechanic, though. He did seem very worried when I told him I was taking the CCTV. It’s just dawned on me now.”
“Told you. He’s shifty, that one.”
Chapter 7
The hairs prickling on the back of her neck, Rachel couldn’t shake the feeling she was being followed. She looked behind as she walked along the high street, but there was no one to be seen in the dim light of the street lamp. It was almost ten o’clock after a long day at work. Just as she lay her hand on the door handle of the off licence, her ringtone blared out.
“Shit, Mum, you made me jump,” Rachel said, her free hand clamped to her chest. “Everything OK?”
“Yeah, I was just ringing to see how you are. You haven’t been returning my calls. I was worried, darling.”
Rachel pushed open the door of the off licence and smiled at the assistant as she began browsing. “Everything’s fine, Mum. Just a case that’s been taking up all my time at the moment.”
“The missing woman I saw on the telly?”
“Yeah, that’s the one. I just can’t seem to get a hold of this one. Maybe I’m getting too stale around here. Sleepy town and all that.”
“You left London for a reason, remember? You and Adam both decided a slower pace would be better for you both. A compromise, as you wouldn’t give up your job. Although it sounds like you’re still doing way too many long days and getting too involved again. You need to take it easy, darling. I know it’s been a few years since it happened, but you don’t just get over something like that straight away. It takes time. And talking about it will help.”
“I know,” Rachel murmured. She picked up a bottle of sauvignon blanc. “I thought it’d be different here,” she said, squinting her eyes as she read the label.
“How is Adam?” her mum asked.
“We had another row,” Rachel replied after a long pause. “I don’t want to talk about it now, Mum.”
“You know I’m always here to listen. I miss our chats. You promised me you’d keep talking to me. About your feelings. The doctor said it would help.”
“I’ve gotta go now, Mum. I’m at the checkout,” Rachel said, still standing in the aisle.
“OK, well, you just put your feet up tonight, watch a movie or something?”
“I will. Shawshank Redemption is on again on ITV2.”
“Again? You’ve seen that film a million times. For a police officer, that’s a very strange choice for your favourite film.”
Smiling, Rachel walked over to the checkout and placed the bottle down on the counter. “Bye, Mum. We’ll talk soon. I promise. Love you.”
Pouring a large glass of the wine she’d bought, Rachel sorted through her mail, then sank down into her armchair and kicked off her shoes. She took a gulp, then checked her phone. No texts. Calling a number, she lay her head back and took another slurp of wine as she waited for the voicemail beep.
“Adam? I’m so sorry for what happened. Sorry for everything. Please ring me back. We can talk. I just need to be able to explain. I’m sorry.”
She pressed the end call button and closed her eyes as tears began to fall.
Chapter 8
“Morning, boss,” the grey-haired desk sergeant said as Rachel ploughed past him. “Working on a Saturday?”
“Morning, John,” Rachel replied, breathing heavily. Her face was bright red, her hair matted to her forehead with sweat.
“You on the bike again?”
“Yeah, needed to blow off some cobwebs.” She smiled and waved her helmet at him as she passed.
“Blimey, judging by your face I should book you in for speeding,” John called after her.
“You wouldn’t dare.” Rachel said, her friendly stare just sharp enough to remind him who was boss.
Upstairs, Michelle was stirring sugar into two cups of coffee as Rachel passed.
“Morning, all,” Rachel said as she walked over to her office. A ripple of replies followed. “So, I was thinking we’d go over to see Amanda today,” she said to Michelle as she approached holding the cups. “Give her an update, family liaison protocol and all that. We can get the inside track on this uncle of hers too. I think the more we know about this family, the better. I know we have dug into their backgrounds, but we should go over them in more detail.”
“But first, essential team morale building,” Michelle replied, setting down the cups on Rachel’s desk, along with a packet of chocolate hobnobs.
“Morning,” Poppy’s cheery voice sounded as Amanda opened her front door to her and a haze of blinding sunlight.
“Bloody hell, Pops. I’ve never seen this much of you.” Amanda sighed and rubbed the sleep out of her eyes.
“Well, I’ve been texting you and you haven’t been returning my messages. I WhatsApped you too. I know you’ve read them. I saw the blue ticks.” Poppy wagged her finger as she squeezed through the thin gap between Amanda and the doorframe.
Poppy’s eyes widened. “What?”
Amanda’s stare softened into creases of laughter at the corners of her eyes. “Just kidding. Although it’s worrying how relieved you look.”
“Well, I just think you should leave all that detective work to DI Morrison.” Poppy walked down the hallway and into the kitchen. “What are you doing today, anyway? I thought we could put another post of your mum on Facebook? You can do what’s called a sponsored post, which will put it out to more people. Hopefully somebody has seen your mum by now.”
“Ok, I’ll try anything at this point. It’s been nearly two weeks and I’m getting a really bad feeling something horrible has happened to Mum.”
The doorbell chimed, making them both jump.
“I’ll get it,” Poppy said. She walked over to the door and pulled it open.
“Oh, good morning Miss…” Rachel began.
“Lovell. Poppy Lovell. We met briefly last week at the press conference,” Poppy flicked her hair out of her eyes and pushed her glasses back onto the bridge of her nose.
“Of course we did. May we come in?”
Poppy held the door open for Rachel and Michelle to pass. When they reached the kitchen, Amanda straightened up on her centre island stool from her hunched position at her laptop.
“Do you have news?” Amanda asked.
“No, not yet. We’re just making a courtesy call. See how you’re holding up,” Michelle replied, her keen eyes scanning the immaculately decorated kitchen, now cluttered up with takeaway boxes and used coffee cups.