Lost Souls

by Jenny O'Brien

  He looked as bad as she felt and her night was far from over, she reflected, stifling a groan at the thought of the job application form lurking in her briefcase. ‘I’m hoping it will only take a few minutes for her to agree to the search.’ She nodded in Amy’s direction. ‘Primarily we’re interested in finding any trace of Ellie but also anything unusual, as you know.’

  ‘I know only too well, Gaby.’ He ran his hand through his hair, making it stand on end. ‘You think I’m the only CSI in the whole of North Wales?’

  ‘No, but we think you’re the best, don’t we, Amy,’ she said, sending her a brief grin.

  ‘Flattery will get you everywhere, not. I hope you’ve checked in with Sherlock because the way I’m feeling this is going to be triple time.’

  ‘You leave Sherlock to me.’ She patted his arm briefly, her thoughts turning to the DCI and what he’d think of how she was handling the situation. But the truth of the matter was she didn’t give a damn. He wasn’t the one still working at 10 p.m. No. He’d be tucked up in bed while she had the pleasure of interviewing one of the toughest women she’d ever met.

  Janice Stevens was how she remembered. Perhaps a little thinner and her iron-grey hair a little longer, but to all intents and purposes she seemed the exact same as the woman she’d met earlier in the year, right down to the expression on her face.

  ‘Sorry for bothering you so late, Mrs Stevens, but we’d like a quick word with your eldest son, Ronan.’

  ‘You’d better come in.’ She closed the door behind them and directed them into the lounge. With a wave of her hand, she gestured towards the sofa while she perched on the arm of the chair opposite, her fingers laced in her lap.

  ‘Let’s not beat around the bush, Detective. What is it that my son is meant to have done?’

  ‘Nothing as yet but, as he is eighteen and an adult in his own right, I’m sure you can appreciate that it’s not something we can discuss with you?’

  ‘Oh, come on! You visit my home this late at night, demanding to see my son and then don’t tell me any information as to what it’s about? How do you reckon that works then? I just roll over and tell you everything you want to know without you giving me anything in return?’

  If Gaby thought she was out of her depth before entering the property, now she was in full drowning mode with no sign of a lifebelt in grabbing distance. As acting DI, she had two choices. To blurt out the truth or withhold everything they had. But instead of doing either, she decided to answer Janice’s question with one of her own. After all, there was no law against leading a member of the public to reach the right conclusion all by themselves.

  ‘Mrs Stevens, have you heard the news today?’

  ‘Have I heard the news today?’ she repeated, her frown deepening. ‘In the car after picking the boys up from summer school but there was nothing—’ She broke off mid-sentence, the colour leeching from her face although there hadn’t been much colour to begin with. ‘You can’t think for one minute that my son would have anything to do with that missing girl? It’s absurd. Ronan would be the very last person to …’ She stopped again, her cheeks flooding red with some emotion Gaby could only guess at.

  Janice weaved to the front of the chair to sit down as if her legs were suddenly too weak to take her weight.

  ‘I don’t understand,’ she said eventually, her voice a thin thread of sound.

  ‘That’s why we’re here. To try and make sense of it all.’ Amy leant forward, her hand clutching on to a brown envelope. ‘Where is your son, Mrs Stevens?’

  She lifted her head, a very different woman to the one who’d opened the door only a few minutes ago. It was as if all the fight had drained out of her when she allowed the possibility of Ronan doing wrong to sneak over the tender walls she’d encased herself in.

  ‘Somewhere in Llandudno. I have no idea where. After … after everything that happened, he decided for whatever reason that he needed some space. He left at the start of June and has been living rough ever since.’

  ‘Are you in touch?’

  She shook her head. ‘Not since he walked out the door.’

  ‘So, if you’re not in touch how do you know that he’s still in the area?’

  ‘Detective, you must understand something about my son.’ She linked her fingers in her lap, the knuckles white against the stark simplicity of her navy shift dress. ‘He’s intelligent, absurdly intelligent – some would say gifted but that’s a label we’ve … I’ve always tried to avoid. Too much to live up to at a young age. But intelligence in his case is coupled with a lack of common sense. He was fine at home but school was a trial. He doesn’t relate well to others and, in a way, I can see that the idea of running away to some utopian place to live a hermit type of existence would have appealed. If I hadn’t been so caught up in my own problems, I might have managed to prevent it from happening but it is what it is.’ She paused, staring down at her fingers only to spread them flat across her lap. ‘While Ronan doesn’t want to live at home it doesn’t mean that I don’t want to protect him in the same way I’ve always done.’

  She tilted her chin, finally meeting their gaze. ‘I got in touch with Reverend Honeybun over at St Luke’s, almost as soon as Ronan left and he agreed to keep an eye on him. He’s even employed him on an ad hoc basis to help clear parish land and in return he provides me with the odd update as to how he’s doing.’

  ‘And how is he doing?’ Gaby interjected.

  ‘Better, I think. It’s taken careful nurturing but he’s even starting to talk about the future.’

  ‘But you haven’t been in touch with him since?’

  ‘No, although it’s more the case that he hasn’t been in touch with me.’ She wiped her fingers under her eyes. ‘I don’t know if he blames me for what happened but the truth is we were barely on speaking terms in the days and weeks leading up to him leaving.’

  Amy removed a picture from the envelope and, stretching out her hand, said, ‘If you could tell us if this is an image of your son or not?’

  Janice’s jaw dropped. The A4 piece of paper barely touched her fingers. It fluttered to the floor by her feet, as her fist pressed into her mouth.

  Gaby looked across at Amy, the reality of the situation slamming home to them both the seriousness of what they were about to ask her next but they had little choice.

  ‘Mrs Stevens, in light of you not being able to inform us as to the whereabouts of your son and, taking into account that he was spotted on a CCTV camera very close to your home earlier on today in the company of Elodie Fry, I’d like your permission to search the house?’

  ‘You’ll need a warrant for that,’ she said, a glimmer of her sparky personality finally reasserting itself.

  ‘Yes, and, as a lawyer, you’ll know that it will be easily obtained under the circumstances.’

  Janice Stevens stood, taking a moment to smooth her hands down the front of her dress. ‘Get it over with then. I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me and’ – she raised her head, her eyes lifting to meet Gaby’s full on – ‘I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t disturb my boys. They’re asleep upstairs and, as they’ve either been here with me or at summer school, I doubt they’ll have anything that they can tell you.’

  Chapter 30

  Gaby

  Monday 3 August, 11.10 p.m. Rhos-on-Sea

  Gaby dropped Amy off before returning home to a kitchen full of dirty plates but, instead of tackling them, she pushed them to one side of the worktop and poured herself a glass of water. She’d have much preferred a glass of the wine Rusty had brought but not until she’d cobbled together the sort of CV that DCI Sherlock would be expecting.

  With a box of assorted papers in front of her, she was soon up to her neck in trying to find details of courses and copies of past appraisals. Gaby wasn’t the most organised of individuals when it came to keeping up with her personal documents and, like most people, became easily distracted by old school reports and the odd photo that had crept into the bo
x, which added little help but lots of reminiscing. She finally pressed send, seconds before the midnight deadline she’d been given, with a renewed promise to take the time to sort out her affairs once and for all. A promise she was destined to break.

  Resting back against the sofa, she was trying to pluck up the energy from somewhere to climb the stairs when her phone rang. She muttered a curse under her breath. It could only mean one thing. More trouble.

  ‘Darin speaking.’

  ‘How did I know that you’d still be awake, Gabriella?’

  Gaby curled her feet underneath her and, grabbing the throw from off the back of the sofa, wrapped it across her legs. Her frown lines smoothed as a smile appeared – a smile that was reflected in her voice but not her words.

  ‘You didn’t. I’d have been mightily hacked off if I had been asleep!’

  ‘I’ll have to remember that. Gets grumpy late at night. Is there anything else I should know before we continue our relationship?’

  Gaby’s smile widened. ‘Lots but it’s a bit late – or should that be early? – to discuss it.’ She shifted her position along with the conversation, addressing the one thing about their relationship that was worrying her. ‘How’s Conor?’

  ‘Ah. He’s fast asleep but not before he gave me a piece of his very young and immature mind.’

  ‘Ah,’ she echoed. ‘He’s not a happy bunny.’

  ‘That’s putting it lightly. The thing you need to remember is that when his mother left, she dragged me through the courts for sole custody, something I battled all the way. She only changed her mind when her new boyfriend came on the scene. To put it bluntly, she dropped him off at the hospital with his belongings stuffed into a couple of suitcases and drove into the sunset.’

  ‘Poor mite.’

  ‘Exactly. I told you at the very start that he was my priority and that still stands.’

  ‘You know I’d never—’

  ‘But, Gabriella, it’s not what I know that’s relevant,’ he interrupted. ‘It’s what Conor thinks and currently you’re the devil incarnate trying to steal his dad out from under his nose.’

  Gaby dragged her hand across her eyes, too tired and stressed to puzzle out how to answer. What did he expect her to say? That they should stop seeing each other for the sake of his son? She opened her mouth to tell him exactly that only to close it again at his next words.

  ‘I think we have the makings of something good between us but only if we can come to some sort of consensus. I’m not prepared to compromise my relationship with Conor but there’s nothing wrong in trying to make a new family for him out of the dregs of the old.’

  ‘So, what do you suggest we do?’

  ‘Continue including Conor in our plans. It means no intimate dinners for two, but it will provide an opportunity for him to realise that things aren’t going to change overnight.’

  ‘If that’s the way it has to be.’

  ‘I was hoping you’d say that. We’ll get there eventually and, in the meantime, continue cementing our friendship.’

  ‘But not right now,’ she interrupted, struggling to squash down a yawn. ‘I don’t mean to be rude but it’s been a very long day and with the possibility of exactly the same tomorrow.’

  Chapter 31

  Gaby

  Tuesday 4 August, 8.15 a.m. St Asaph Police Station

  Gaby was late and feeling the impact of forgetting to set the alarm on her phone, something she blamed Rusty for. If she hadn’t heard next door’s car revving up, she’d probably still be in bed. Her forgetfulness had dictated that she’d rushed out of the house, barely taking the time to brush her teeth or check that her hair was restrained in its usual braid. She’d ignored the kettle just as she’d ignored the bread bin, instead opting to stop off at the garage to pick up a sandwich along with the morning newspapers.

  All of the dailies carried the story of Ellie Fry’s disappearance on their front pages, for once ignoring the petty government wranglings that normally took up valuable front-page space. After a cursory glance, she threw them on the passenger seat along with her cheese-and-tomato bap and, fastening her seatbelt, put her foot down. There had been no news overnight. It had been the first thing she’d checked, after she’d wiped the sleep from her eyes and realised the time. The old adage that no news was good news was far from reassuring and didn’t reflect her current state of anxiety as to the whereabouts of the little girl.

  The station at 8.15 was busier than normal, which was hardly surprising given their current workload. After collecting her post from the desk sergeant, she raced up to her office to deposit her bag under the desk and head for the incident room. They were all there and by the looks of it had experienced just as unsettling a night. Even Owen had put in an early appearance, she noticed, guilt expanding in her chest at the thought of his wife being left to sort out their son in addition to their week-old baby. Jax and Malachy were dressed in jeans and T-shirts, the sight of stubble on their chins a clear sign that they’d decided, against her advice, to join in with the search. She couldn’t blame them and she certainly wasn’t going to call them out over it when it was something she’d done herself when she’d been in uniform.

  ‘Here you go, ma’am.’ Marie held out a mug for her to take. Gaby couldn’t begin to guess at what time she’d got in but, by the sight of her desk littered with paperwork, a lot earlier than her.

  ‘Thanks, just what I needed,’ she said, her attention shifting to Amy, who was firmly entrenched behind her laptop, her phone clutched to her ear, only acknowledging Gaby’s entrance with a brief lift of her hand.

  Gaby took a moment to take a deep sip, the feel of hot tea against her lips doing little to dim the sudden glow of pride she felt for her team. But being Gaby, she didn’t say anything. They had a job to do, only that. The time to thank them would be when Ellie was safely back at home with her mother. She barely spared a thought for Barbara Matthews except to pick up her phone and invite Jason downstairs to share what he’d told her last night with the rest of the room.

  The whiteboard had taken a hit yesterday, scribbled notes marking most of its surface. Gaby spent a moment reading through her previous comments in case there was anything that she wanted to add or change. Her gaze was drawn to Ellie’s photo as she reached for a black marker pen.

  ‘Right then, thanks to Diane’s efforts yesterday we now have a suspect in addition to someone in custody …’ She twisted her head, glancing around the room. ‘Where is PC Carbone? She should be here. She’s as much a part of this team as the rest of us.’

  ‘She was earlier,’ Malachy said, his hand rasping over his stubbly chin. ‘She probably thought she was surplus to requirements now that she’s been through all of the CCTV footage.’

  Gaby’s sigh was audible across the room, causing the team to eye her in amusement. ‘Go and find her, Mal, as quick as you can,’ she added, her voice sharpening to a stiletto point when he didn’t immediately shift from his chair. ‘While we’re waiting, I can fill you in on Ellie’s disappearance. There is news but I have no idea what to make of it. Marie and Diane have identified the lad on the Great Orme with Ellie as Ronan Stevens.’

  Gaby didn’t have to qualify who that was, their expressions said it all. ‘Quite! Until we speak to the two of them, there’s no way of knowing if their meeting was purely coincidental or not, but it’s certainly a worrying development. I can’t help that old adage like father like son repeating like the aftereffects of a dodgy prawn. Amy and I interviewed Ms Fry again last night and she has no recollection of having ever met the boy so, at this stage, there’s no evidence that it’s anything but a chance encounter. But it does mean that we have to change our strategy. With this in mind, last night, Amy and I paid a visit to Janice Stevens and, following the discovery of a quantity of fresh blood in her bathroom, blood with the same group as Ellie Fry’s, she is currently in custody. Yes, that’s right. What was a missing persons’ case is now a possible murder inquiry, despite the lack of a b
ody, so we’re going in all guns blazing on this one.’

  The sound of feet in the corridor outside had Gaby tilting her head, no trace of a smile at the sight of Malachy hurrying into the room, Diane following behind. ‘While we have to keep an open mind, I don’t need to remind you of the antics Casper Stevens got up to. It could even be a case of dear old mum trying to protect one of her brood. It’s not as if she wouldn’t know how.’ She stared across at Marie. ‘You and I are going to interview her and make sure we tick all the boxes we’re meant to, bearing in mind that she’s a lawyer! Jax, I’d like you to continue being the main liaison person for the search and rescue team. We need to make sure that it’s a coordinated effort and that we’re looking in all the right places. On the same theme, I need you to revisit both the train and bus station. I know we were there yesterday but we didn’t have Ronan Stevens’s picture to flash around – it might be the break we need. Malachy, you’ve drawn the short straw.’ She recapped the marker and placed it in the little wooden rack underneath the whiteboard, setting it between its best friends; the red and the green. ‘We still need to link in the reason for Ellie absconding because, as yet, we haven’t come up with anything plausible.’

  She looked across at him, her thoughts filled with the stark image of Rusty’s son and the comment he’d made. ‘The general feeling is that something scared her but we have no idea what. So, I want you to flesh out what we already know about her last few days and follow up on any leads that it may generate. Yesterday we checked in with the train and bus stations but we need to expand on that. It’s pretty obvious that she’s not going to be anywhere near the six-mile limit we originally set.’

  ‘Unless something has already happened and her body has been hidden,’ he replied.

  Gaby raised her eyebrows at the typical, reality-check comment coming from Malachy Devine, which she should have been expecting. He’d proved himself to be an invaluable part of the team during the last case. The only thing stopping him from racing up through the ranks was his inability to edit whatever came out of his mouth, because stating the obvious to a room full of detectives was always going to be less than helpful. ‘Yes. Well. Thank you for putting into words what we’re all thinking but we have to stay positive.’