The Devil's Cliff Killings

by Simon McCleave

  ‘Yeah. About then ...’ Emma started to cry and wiped a tear from her eye. ‘I’m really sorry. I should have said something before.’

  ‘Don’t worry, Emma. This is really useful. Any idea what site they met on?’ Ruth asked.

  ‘I think it was Billie Eilish’s fan site, but I’m not sure?’

  ‘Did Rosie’s mum and dad know she was gay?’

  ‘No. No way. God, they would have gone mad. They’re both homophobic racists.’ Emma sneered as she said it.

  ‘So, when you went to pick up Rosie from her house at six there was no mention to her mum that she was meeting anyone?’

  ‘Her mum?’ Emma asked with a frown.

  ‘Kathy Wright said the last time she saw Rosie was when you came to pick her up from her house at six?’ Ruth was now confused but getting the distinct feeling that Kathy Wright had been lying to them.

  ‘No. Her mum wasn’t there. She must have been out because her car wasn’t there either.’ Emma paused. ‘But it’s not a big surprise that she said so.’

  ‘Sorry? What’s not a big surprise, Emma?’

  ‘That woman lies about everything,’ Emma explained disapprovingly.

  Forty-five hours

  It was early afternoon by the time Nick got to Llancastell Sixth Form College. Built originally in the sixties as a technology college, the buildings at the front of the site looked like they needed revamping.

  While Nick had stayed at Ysgol Dinas Padog and done his A-levels in their sixth form, some of his mates had gone off to Llancastell Sixth Form College. He envied them as it was far more laid back than being at school, and students only had to be on site when they had classes. They spent the rest of the time smoking weed or going to the pub.

  Nick had found his way up to the politics department where he met George Xavier, head of politics and Rosie’s form tutor. The bright classroom was on the first floor and had high ceilings. Walls were decorated with coloured world maps and political posters from history – Nazi propaganda, Soviet Cold War, all the way through to Brexit.

  Xavier was in his late twenties, olive-skinned with fashionable black hair and a beard. Nick imagined Xavier had lots of admirers within the female population of the college.

  ‘I can’t believe it. Doesn’t feel real, you know?’ Xavier took a breath. He was clearly feeling emotional about Rosie’s disappearance.

  ‘No ...’ Nick nodded sympathetically, but he was keen to get the information he needed as quickly as possible. He glanced up at the large wall clock. Its second hand clicked rhythmically as if to emphasise the passing of time and the growing tension that came with it.

  ‘A lot of students that knew Rosie haven’t come in today. It’s understandable. Some of them have gone over to Capelulo to help with the search,’ Xavier explained.

  ‘Of course. How would you describe Rosie?’ Nick asked, getting out his pen and notepad.

  ‘Very intelligent, earnest, funny. She would do anything for anyone. She was ... lovely,’ Xavier said sadly.

  ‘What about recently? How did she seem at the end of last week?’ Nick asked.

  Xavier took a moment and sat forward in his chair. ‘Actually, she wasn’t herself in recent weeks. She seemed worried or pre-occupied about something.’

  ‘Do you know why?’ Nick asked.

  ‘No. I asked her, but she said it was nothing. I guessed it was something to do with home,’ Xavier said.

  ‘What makes you think that?’

  ‘I assume you’ve met Rosie’s parents?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Xavier clearly thought it prudent not to take his comment too far. ‘I don’t think she was happy at home.’

  ‘Why do you say that?’ Nick asked.

  Come on, mate. I haven’t got time for you to be vague today! Nick thought.

  ‘Just some things she would say in form time. You can’t help overhearing what students are talking about. Her relationship with her brother, I forget his name—’

  ‘Gareth.’

  ‘Gareth. Yes. I think it was a big problem. I don’t know what he was getting himself into, but it didn’t sound good.’

  ‘What do you mean when you say “it didn’t sound good”?’ Nick asked. Was there more to this?

  ‘I just overheard Rosie telling her friends that her brother was going to end up going to prison or get killed. She said he was a “nasty little chav” and she wanted nothing to do with him,’ Xavier explained.

  BY THE TIME RUTH GOT back to her desk, she had several emails from the media office down in St Asaph. That morning’s national newspapers and television stations were dominated by the search for Rosie.

  Ruth was aware that they still needed to have a more in-depth interview with Jason Wright, but he was leading the volunteers. It would be difficult to prise him away from that to ask him some difficult questions without creating a shit storm. But they also didn’t have time to tread on eggshells. She could feel the tension in her stomach.

  Ruth’s phone vibrated and she looked at the latest news on Twitter:

  BBC Wales @ BBC Wales Breaking News

  More than 150 family and friends of missing Rosie Wright are taking part in a second mass search of local countryside in North Wales two days after she vanished #FindRosie

  Ruth had asked French to use Traffic and ANPR, Automatic Number Plate Recognition, to see if he could find out where Kathy Wright had been late on Monday afternoon. It might give them a clue as to why she had lied and would give them the upper hand when they confronted her about her deception.

  Ruth looked up to see Sian approaching. They shared a smile.

  ‘What happened with Martin Hancock?’ Ruth asked.

  ‘He doesn’t have an alibi. He was watching opera on BBC Four,’ Sian said, raising an eyebrow.

  ‘Was he now? What do you think?’

  ‘Instinct says he’s not involved. He got nicked for having photos of teenage boys. I’d put him on the back burner for the minute,’ Sian explained.

  It made Ruth’s life so much easier that Sian was a good copper.

  ‘Thanks, Sian.’

  ‘There was something, boss. Hancock used to work with Kathy Wright at HMP Rhoswen.’

  ‘Right. Did he know her?’ Ruth asked, intrigued by the connection.

  ‘Not really. He said prisoners were scared of her and that she was “a nasty little woman”.’

  Ruth frowned. ‘Doesn’t sound like the Kathy Wright I’ve met.’

  ‘This is the opinion of an effete paedophile, so I wouldn’t give it too much thought,’ Sian said.

  ‘Effete?’ Ruth said teasingly.

  ‘Good word, “effete”.’ Sian grinned back.

  ‘Thanks, Sian,’ Ruth said as Sian turned to go back to her desk.

  Wandering over to where Merringer was working at a computer, Ruth could see that he was trawling through CCTV footage.

  ‘Luke, what have we got?’ she asked.

  ‘In her statement, Kathy Wright told us that she had been to the Tesco on the Llancastell industrial estate prior to returning home last Monday. I got the CCTV from the supermarket sent over. And look who we find sitting in the car park at six p.m. when she was said she was at home.’

  Ruth could see Kathy Wright’s black Ford Focus parked. Squinting a little, she could see a figure sitting in the driver’s seat. It was definitely a woman. But there was also someone in the passenger seat.

  ‘She wasn’t alone, boss,’ Luke said.

  ‘Yeah. Can we get a look at who that is?’ Ruth asked, wondering about the nature of Kathy Wright’s clandestine meeting and why it meant she needed to lie in her statement.

  ‘Here we go,’ Merringer said, playing the footage forward a few minutes. ‘Unfortunately, he’s wearing sunglasses and the quality isn’t great.’

  The man wearing the sunglasses was short and stocky. On the CCTV footage, he got out of the car and then disappeared out of the camera’s range.

  ‘What about getting into the car?’ Rut
h asked.

  ‘Nope. This van blocks the camera for that.’

  ‘I don’t suppose we get to see what car he was driving?’

  ‘No, boss. He wanders this way towards more shops and then he’s out of range of the CCTV.’

  ‘I think I might need to pay Kathy Wright a visit,’ Ruth said.

  CHAPTER 7

  Forty-seven hours

  Winding down the window, Ruth sucked on her cigarette for a second and blew out the smoke in a long plume that was then violently thrashed away by the wind rushing past the car.

  In terms of percentages, she knew that Rosie Wright’s disappearance was now likely to be a murder case. That didn’t mean she had given up hope of finding Rosie alive. However, there had been no sightings, nothing significant found on social media and no suspicious activity on Rosie’s phone. With no solid leads and time marching on, the statistical chances of them finding Rosie alive were diminishing with every hour that passed. And they only had one hour left before the dreaded forty-eight-hour mark and all the dark implications of the data that came with it. Ruth felt uneasy.

  Instinct told her to keep the investigation close to home. The likelihood of a random stranger snatching Rosie from the farm was incredibly remote.

  Something else occurred to her as she slowed behind a tractor for a moment. They needed footage of the locals who were helping to search for Rosie. In the past, there had been various cases where the killer had helped police in the search for their victims. She assumed they got a sick thrill from being in the middle of the chaos and fear they had created. If whoever had attacked and potentially killed Rosie was hiding in plain sight, she wanted footage to see if it could provide any clues.

  An hour earlier, Ruth had seen that the social-media trolls had started. There were comments trending about Kathy and Jason Wright. Nothing intelligent. Just the usual toxic stuff about murderers in these cases often being close to home. Jason Wright had the look of ‘a paedo’. There was ‘always something weird’ about Gareth Wright and how he had been expelled from school for drug dealing so was ‘probably paedo scum’.

  Ruth’s thoughts turned to Kathy Wright and her liaison in the supermarket car park. Her immediate assumption was that it was some kind of affair. However, lying about when she saw her own daughter for the last time was repugnant.

  By the time Ruth pulled up outside the Wright’s cottage, it had started to rain heavily. Undeterred, photographers and members of the press had sought refuge under brightly coloured umbrellas, waterproofs, nearby trees or in the press vehicles that were amassed at one end of the lane.

  Kathy Wright was sitting at the kitchen table in her usual spot when Ruth was shown in by the FLO. Now looking tired and drawn, Kathy wore virtually no make-up and was dressed in a grey and pink tracksuit.

  Ruth sat down and looked over at her. There was a stillness as Kathy shifted in her chair and sat upright.

  ‘I know I should be out looking for her, but I wanna be here. I don’t want her to come home and for me not to be here,’ Kathy mumbled as the tears began to stream from her eyes. Her shoulders juddered as she wept, trying to catch her breath.

  ‘It’s whatever you need to do, Kathy,’ Ruth said as she gave her a compassionate look across the table.

  ‘I don’t think she’s coming home though. Do you?’ Kathy took some tissues that PC Bennett, the FLO, had handed her, wiped her face and then blew her nose.

  ‘I promise I will do everything in my power to find Rosie.’ Ruth waited for a moment. ‘And for that to happen, you have to tell us the truth, Kathy.’

  Kathy frowned as Ruth’s comment hung in the air.

  ‘What do you mean?’ she asked.

  ‘We know you weren’t here at six o’clock on Monday. And we know that you didn’t see Emma when she called for Rosie,’ Ruth said quietly. She was experienced enough to know that these types of situations needed a softly, softly approach.

  ‘Eh? I was here. What are you talking about?’ Kathy asked, looking over at her.

  Fishing into the A4 envelope she had in her hand, Ruth pulled out a still from the car-park CCTV and slid it over the table for Kathy to look at.

  She looked at it and then mumbled, ‘Shit.’

  ‘Why did you lie to us, Kathy?’

  ‘Why do you think?’ Kathy sneered. Now on the defensive, all the grief and anguish of the last few minutes was gone.

  Jesus! Was that all an act?

  Ruth wasn’t sure whether the grieving-mother routine had been for show, but the change was marked.

  ‘Who is the man in the car with you?’ Ruth asked.

  ‘Andy,’ Kathy mumbled.

  ‘Andy who?’

  ‘I’ve no idea,’ Kathy said dismissively.

  Ruth snorted. ‘Come on. You don’t know?’

  ‘It’s first names only. That’s the deal.’

  ‘Deal? Are you and this Andy having an affair?’

  Kathy shook her head, but seemed completely unfazed by the conversation. ‘No. It’s just sex. No questions asked. Meet someone, drive somewhere, have sex, end of.’

  ‘How did you meet?’

  ‘One of them websites for married people.’

  ‘Does your husband know about this?’ Ruth asked.

  ‘No, of course not. And I’d like it to stay that way.’ Kathy said, looking directly at Ruth – it almost felt like a threat.

  Maybe Martin Hancock was accurate in his description of Kathy Wright. She had certainly shown a very different side to her character when confronted. And that also threw up questions about her relationship with Rosie.

  THE CAFETERIA AT LLANCASTELL Police Station was quiet – just the distant metallic sounds of cutlery and chatter from the kitchens. Picking up the tray of coffees, Nick headed back over to the table where he was talking to Kara Haddon, Emma’s sister. Steven Haddon sat next to her with a concerned look on his face.

  Although they had already taken preliminary statements from the girls, Ruth had asked Nick to talk to them all again. There was a growing feeling that they had missed something in Rosie’s life that would explain the attack and her disappearance.

  ‘Thanks,’ Steven said as he put sugar in his coffee.

  Nick watched Kara as she just gazed at the mug of coffee. She was wearing a Billie Eilish tour T-shirt and grey jogging bottoms. He could see the shock of the previous couple of days was taking its toll, especially as she was only fourteen.

  ‘Kara, there’s just a few things we need to clarify about Monday night with you. Is that going to be all right?’ Nick asked, trying to be as sensitive as he could.

  Kara looked up at him and pushed her dark ringlets out of her face. ‘I wanted to help look for Rosie today but Dad wouldn’t let me,’ she said, looking up at her father.

  ‘I just think you’ve been through enough in the last couple of days, Kara. We all have. And there are lots of people out there looking for Rosie who are trained and know what they’re doing,’ Steven reassured her.

  ‘You dad’s right, Kara. You’re probably better off at home,’ Nick said.

  ‘Where is she?’ Kara asked in a virtual whisper.

  ‘That’s what we’re trying to find out. And the more detail we have about Rosie, her life and what happened on Monday, the more likely it is that we’ll find her safe. Is that okay?’ Nick asked.

  ‘Yeah, of course,’ Kara said as she looked down and began to pick at her fingernails.

  ‘So, it was your sister Emma who first noticed that Rosie was missing at around nine o’clock?’ Nick asked.

  ‘Yeah, Rosie went over to the yard to get a signal because it was crap where we were sitting,’ Kara explained.

  ‘Do you know what time that was?’

  Kara shook her head. ‘No, sorry. Quite a long time before though. She was gone for ages.’

  ‘Would you say she was gone for about fifteen minutes?’

  ‘No, it was more than that. Probably half an hour or more. We just thought she was talking to Hayley
.’

  ‘The girl she had met online?’ Nick asked. Ruth had briefed him earlier.

  ‘Her girlfriend,’ Kara said, determined to show them both that she wasn’t fazed by saying this. ‘They had been talking online for ages.’

  ‘Ages? Can you tell me roughly how long?’ Nick asked.

  ‘Last few months, I think.’

  ‘Do you know her surname?’ Nick asked.

  ‘No, sorry. Just Hayley.’

  ‘Anything else that might help us find her?’

  Kara thought for a second and then said, ‘She worked in a pub in Rhyl. The Mill something. The Mill Arms?’

  Nick looked down at his phone and quickly googled pubs in Rhyl. ‘The Millbank Arms?’

  Kara nodded. ‘Yeah, that’s it.’

  ‘You’re sure?’

  ‘Yeah. After Rosie and Hayley had met up, she and Emma said if we got a train up to Rhyl, Hayley would serve us in the pub and we could get free drinks.’

  The fact that Rosie had seen the girl in person was news to Nick. ‘You’re sure they met up? Emma seemed to think that they had just been talking online?’ Nick asked.

  ‘No, they definitely met up in Chester a couple of times. Rosie told me on Monday when we were sitting around,’ Kara said.

  ‘And this Hayley was meant to be coming to meet you all at the farm?’ Nick asked.

  ‘Yeah. It was this big thing and Rosie was really excited. Except Hayley was late or something. Some of us were making jokes, saying that Hayley didn’t exist and that Rosie had been talking to some forty-year-old paedo online,’ Kara explained.

  ‘Kara!’ Steven said, looking at her.

  ‘What? That stuff happens, Dad. Don’t be naïve.’ Kara looked over at Nick and shook her head at her father’s perceived innocence.

  ‘So, Hayley never turned up. And Rosie went over to the yard to try to call her to see where she was?’ Nick asked.

  ‘Yeah. She said that Hayley was driving. Oh, and then she said she hoped Hayley’s “dad” wasn’t bringing her over. And she made speech marks with her fingers, you know, and laughed?’ Kara demonstrated the speech marks with her index and middle fingers.