Hunting Shadows

by Bugler, Sheila

  ‘I know,’ Ellen said.

  ‘The only morning he hasn’t gone there recently was today,’ Baxter continued, ignoring her. That cannot be a coincidence, Ellen. I want you to get your arse down there first thing in the morning. Speak to the staff in the café. Find out what he does there each day. Find out why a grown man spends half his morning drinking cups of coffee and staring at kiddies running around the playground beside the café.’

  ‘You’re not suggesting …’

  ‘I’m suggesting nothing,’ Ed said. ‘It’s facts I want, Ellen. And I guarantee you, the facts in this case all point to Kevin Hudson. And when you’re finished, come back to the station. Full team briefing at ten a.m. McDonald can give us his update on Molly York then. If there’s a connection, we’ll follow it. If not, we focus on Hudson. All right?’

  No it was not bloody all right. Far from it.

  ‘Why did Abby call you?’ Ellen asked. ‘I told her to speak to me.’

  ‘She tried you,’ Ed replied. ‘Said the call went straight to voicemail.’

  Lying cow.

  ‘Anyway, that’s beside the point,’ Ed said. ‘All that matters is she’s making progress. Which is more than can be said for you.

  ‘You know the stats, Ellen. Nine out of ten kids who die are killed by a family member. Hudson’s got form. History of violence. A loner with crap social skills. Unhappy marriage. He’s already done six months for GBH. What more do you need?’

  ‘You don’t like him,’ Ellen said. ‘That’s what this is about, isn’t it?’

  ‘It’s not a question of liking,’ Ed said. ‘The man’s the most obvious suspect. All we have to do is prove it.’

  ‘And what if we can’t do that?’ Ellen asked.

  ‘There’s always proof,’ Ed said. ‘You know that, Ellen. It’s just a question of finding it, that’s all.’

  She threw her phone down on the desk, stared at it for a moment, then went back to the internet. A few minutes later, she had two images on the screen. Jodie Hudson on the left, Molly York on the right. Two young girls with dark hair, blue eyes, a gap between their two front teeth and a dimple. They weren’t identical, but it would be foolish to say there weren’t similarities between the two girls.

  Ellen’s gaze lingered on Molly’s pretty face, thinking how bloody awful life could be. There was a connection there somewhere. She could feel it. Now all she had to do was find it.

  22:00

  Brian didn’t know what to do.

  She wasn’t exactly making things easy for him. There was all that business with her name, for starters. And all that crying! It was wearing him down, so it was. Truth was, she was starting to remind him of Molly. And that was bad because he didn’t want to think about her. Not ever.

  He could hear Marion now. Crying and banging on the door of the shed, screaming at him to let her out.

  It wasn’t fair. He’d come out here, thinking he would pop down to the shed and keep her company for a bit. He was all prepared, with his Rainbow Parade videos, two bottles of Coke and a packet of cheese and onion crisps. But then he’d opened the back door and heard her.

  A right old commotion she was making. The sound stopped him dead. He stood there in the dark, trying to make sense of it.

  And the language out of her! She sounded like a mad thing. Nothing like the sweet girl he’d kept at the front of his mind all this time. If he was honest with himself, this wasn’t quite how he’d planned it. Sure enough, he knew there’d be the odd hiccup, but this carry-on? Well, it was a bit more than he’d anticipated.

  And it wasn’t like any of this was easy for him. When he thought of the things he’d done, the risks he’d taken to bring her home, not to mention the mistakes he’d made.

  And Molly.

  He closed his eyes, groaned. No. Quick. Think of something else. Anything. He pressed the heels of his palms against his eyes, as if doing that might squeeze her from his head.

  In the shed, Marion had calmed down. She was still crying, but it was quieter now. He had to listen hard to hear her.

  He opened his eyes, squinting through the trees as if he’d be able to see her if he tried. Which was stupid. It was dark out here. No moon tonight, and the sky hanging low over the flat fields all around him.

  It was easy to get lonely out here. If you weren’t careful, you could think you were the only person left in the whole world. Which was exactly what he’d thought after they’d first left him here …

  Wasn’t that why he’d been so keen to get her back? With Marion here, he thought he’d never be lonely again. Except now look at him – stuck out here in the dark on his own, waiting for her to stop acting like a bleedin’ baby.

  She’d definitely calmed down. Not a buzz from the shed now. Maybe he’d go down, after all. The videos and snacks were in a pile at his feet. He bent down to pick them up, then hesitated. She’d only start up again the moment he went in there. Like she always did. He wasn’t ready for any more of that.

  Instead, he collected up his stuff and went inside. At the door, he thought he heard her, calling out again. He shook his head. Best leave her for now. They’d both feel better after a good night’s sleep.

  As he turned off the lights and made his way to bed, Brian realised he was smiling. Everything was going to work out fine. He just knew it.

  TUESDAY, 15 FEBRUARY

  09:30

  Manor House Gardens was a pretty park situated amidst the tree-lined streets of Victorian terraces in the heart of the Lee conservation area. There was something peaceful about the park that made Ellen feel as if she was somewhere else, instead of a grimy suburb in South-East London.

  Not that you would describe this corner of Lewisham as grimy. Leafy, suburban, quiet, safe. Apart from that business with the priest last year, Ellen couldn’t recall ever having much work in this area.

  The café where Kevin allegedly had his morning coffees was at the far end of the park, near the old manor house. The rain had eased off but the day remained cold. Ellen didn’t loiter, hurrying along the path that wound up through the park, towards the café.

  There were two people working inside – a stunning blonde in her late teens and a surly guy a few years older, with long dark hair and face fluff. When questioned, their view on Kevin Hudson seemed to back up everything Ed had told her. The blonde was particularly loquacious on the topic of Kevin’s perversions.

  ‘He’s a creep. All shifty, if you know what I mean? Sort of looking at you all the time, even when he’s pretending not to. Giving you these sideways glances, like he’s eyeing you up.’ She shivered dramatically.

  ‘Always sits outside with his coffee,’ she continued. ‘Staring at the kids in the playground. Pretending not to, like I said. But you know that’s what he’s doing.’

  She smiled. Face like an angel, mind like a sewer.

  ‘I’m confused,’ Ellen said. ‘If he’s always looking at you, how can he be staring at the kids at the same time? I mean, no matter how – shifty – he is, he can’t look in two different directions at the same time.’

  The smile dropped from the angel face, replaced by a sullen scowl.

  ‘I’m just saying he’s a creep. That’s all. Don’t know why you’re having a go at me. You’re the one asking the questions. I’m just trying to help, isn’t it?’

  Ellen turned her attention to Face Fluff. ‘Anything to add?’ she asked.

  He moved his shoulders into something that might have been a shrug if he’d put a bit more effort into it.

  ‘It’s like Steph said. Guy’s a weirdo. Seriously, he should be out working, shouldn’t he? Any other blokes his age, they come here with their kids. Not on their own like that. It’s not right, is it, just to sit out there every morning when you don’t have kids?’

  Stephanie’s face lit up. Less angelic this time, more smug ‘told you so’. It made Ellen want to reach across the counter and slap her. She looked at the seated area outside the café.

  ‘He sits out t
here, you say?’

  Stephanie nodded.

  The chairs and tables overlooked the playground.

  ‘Does he smoke?’ Ellen asked.

  ‘Yeah,’ Stephanie said. ‘What’s that got to do with anything?’

  ‘Well if he’s a smoker,’ Ellen said, ‘that could be why he chooses to sit outside. I mean, it’s not like he’s allowed to smoke in here, is it?’

  ‘Suppose.’

  Ellen pretended to think for a moment, then turned to Face Fluff. ‘What time did Kevin arrive yesterday morning?’

  The boy frowned. ‘He weren’t here yesterday. We already told the other bloke. The fat one.’

  ‘And that was unusual?’ she asked, already knowing the answer.

  Stephanie nodded, a little too eagerly. ‘It’s like we said, he’s here every morning. A bit of a coincidence the one morning he doesn’t show his little girl goes missing. You lot need to listen. He’s a perv. Should be locked up.’

  Ellen left soon after that, unable to listen to any more. The easy way the two youngsters vilified Kevin irritated her. Her mood darkened as she walked across the park to her car. What gave them the right to adopt such a self-righteous attitude? Barely out of nappies the pair of them. It was the parents’ fault, of course. Ellen would bet any money they grew up hearing shit like that at home.

  She was so preoccupied, she barely noticed where she was going. She didn’t even see the white van coming directly towards her along the path until the driver braked abruptly in front of her.

  Briefly, she clocked two men in the van. The driver, a short bloke with the red cheeks and angry face, pushed his head out the window.

  ‘Look where you’re going, would you?’ he shouted.

  ‘What do you think you’re doing?’ Ellen shouted back. ‘It’s a park not a racing track. Or didn’t you notice?’

  ‘And we’re the bloody people who keep the park looking the way it does,’ the man said. ‘At least we try to. Not easy with birds like you walking around with your head so far up your arse you can’t see where you’re going.’

  Rolling her eyes, Ellen flicked her middle finger at the man and moved on.

  ‘Oi!’ he called. ‘Come back here. I’m not finished with you.’

  Well I’m finished with you, tosser, she thought. Behind her, she could hear the engine starting up again. She tensed, half-expecting him to come after her, half-hoping he would. She’d slap a pair of cuffs on him before he knew what was happening. It didn’t come to that. Instead, just as she was psyching herself up for a confrontation, the van drove off in the opposite direction.

  At the end of the park, she turned and looked back. The van was still there, driver’s head stuck out the window, shouting at someone else. From where she stood, Ellen could just make out the name on the side of the van – Medway Maintenance. She would remember that name.

  Driving back to the station, Ellen switched on the car radio and caught the news. Jodie was the main story.

  ‘Police leading the investigation into the disappearance of missing schoolgirl Jodie Hudson made a further appeal today for witnesses to come forward,’ the female news reporter announced.

  Ed’s familiar voice filled the car. ‘Jodie’s been missing for twenty-four hours. Every minute that passes is another minute her family go without knowing where she is. People don’t just disappear into thin air. Someone out there knows what’s happened to her. If that’s you, if you’re the person who knows where Jodie is, or even if you suspect you might know something, then come forward. Help us find Jodie before it’s too late. Please.’

  His voice faded and the news reader moved on to another story – something about escalating tensions between rival drug-dealers in Bromley. Ellen zoned out. Bromley was nothing to do with her.

  Twenty-four hours. Fear gnawed her insides. What had she missed? Concentrate on Hudson, Ed had said. What if he was wrong? Worse, what if he was right and she’d refused to listen? Questions spun around her head. The worst sort of questions. Ones she had no answers for.

  As she pulled into the car park at the back of Lewisham station, she decided Ed was right. Kevin Hudson was hiding something. They needed to bring him back in for questioning.

  As she headed into the station, her thoughts returned fleetingly to Medway Maintenance and the angry van driver. She realised she couldn’t be bothered making a complaint. She couldn’t spend her time obsessing over every idiot who got in her face. Better just to put it behind her and move on. Let it go. Life was too short.

  10:05

  Brian kept his mouth shut while Simon raged beside him.

  ‘Should have gone after her,’ Simon said, parking in the spot behind the café. ‘Stupid cow. First she walks in front of us and nearly gets herself killed, then she pulls that stunt. You’d think she’d be grateful we didn’t run her over. Not her, though. Oh no. Just starts shouting like she owns the park. Cunt!’

  Brian winced. He hated that word. It was the worst swear word there was. Daddy used to shout it at Mam sometimes, usually right before laying into her with his fists.

  ‘What the hell’s wrong with you?’ Simon asked, punching him in the arm.

  ‘Ow.’ Brian rubbed the spot where Simon’s fist had struck. ‘That hurt.’

  Simon snorted. ‘Bloody sissy. Jesus, Brian. Look at the size of you. How could a little tap like that do you any harm? You need to toughen up, mate. I’m telling you. No wonder the other lads take the piss. You have to be able to stand up for yourself. I can’t always be there for you. I do my best but I’ve got my own life too, Brian, know what I mean?’

  Brian didn’t really know what Simon meant but he said nothing. He’d learned a long time ago not to answer Simon back when he was in this kind of mood. He might be bigger than Simon now, but it hadn’t always been like that and even now, when he should be old enough to know better, Simon still scared him.

  ‘You need to be a bit more like your old man,’ Simon continued. ‘Never met a tougher bloke. Wouldn’t have found him moaning like a little kiddie over a tap to the arm. Nah. Your old man, right? He would have whacked me right back.’

  Hot tears filled Brian’s eyes, making it difficult to see. He wanted to wipe them away but didn’t want Simon to see him crying. Simon was right. He was a sissy. What was wrong with him? Crying. And he a grown man!

  He couldn’t even stand up to Marion. Choosing to avoid her instead of going down there and dealing with her. Daddy was back inside his head as well, telling him to sort her out. Brian couldn’t even do that.

  Daddy wouldn’t let it go, though. Whispering away at him, getting on at Brian the way he always used to. Telling him to pull himself together, stop being such a baby.

  It wasn’t right. Brian knew Daddy couldn’t really be there. Knew Daddy hadn’t stepped foot inside the house since he’d run off, taking Marion, all those years ago. Except ever since they’d gone, it was like Daddy had left part of himself behind. Lodged himself in Brian’s head and stayed there, having a go and nagging and bullying and never shutting up.

  Suddenly, he got this image of a little miniature Daddy sitting up in his brain somewhere, on a rocking chair, with a fag in one hand and a can of lager in the other, ranting and raving and spilling ash and spitting beer all over Brian’s brain. It was such a stupid thing, but now he’d started thinking of it, he couldn’t stop.

  He thought of telling Marion about this and smiled, imagining her reaction. She’d giggle like anything, most likely. And just thinking of her laughing like that set Brian off, too. He tried to stop, thinking he must look like a right pillock sitting there laughing away to himself. But then he pictured the little man in his little rocking chair, surrounded by brain and bits of blood and God knows what else, and he was off again, laughing so hard the whole van shook and his face was all wet with the tears running down it.

  ‘Brian? Get a grip, would you?’

  Brian jumped. He’d forgotten all about Simon sitting beside him.

  ‘Jesus, mate.
’ Simon was angry now. ‘You don’t do yourself any favours, do you? What were you laughing at? It better not be me because I’m in no mood for your bullshit today. Got that?’

  ‘Sorry,’ Brian mumbled.

  He glanced over. Saw Simon’s hands clenched tight on the steering wheel, even though he’d turned the engine off ages ago. Brian shivered. He knew what those hands were capable of.

  Simon breathed loudly through his nose.

  ‘You sure you’re okay?’ he asked. ‘You haven’t been yourself recently. It’s not only me that’s noticed. The other lads have and all. It’s like you’re on a different planet half the time. Even more than normal, like.’

  ‘I’m fine,’ Brian said. ‘Just tired, Simon, that’s all. Finding it a bit hard to sleep. House gets very cold at this time of year.’

  Simon shifted in his seat, turning to face Brian directly.

  ‘You should move back to the village,’ he said. ‘That house is there for you, whenever you want. I don’t know why you insist on living where you do in the middle of nowhere.’

  Brian said nothing. The truth of the matter was, this business with Marion wasn’t working out the way he’d planned. He’d only just found her and already it was turning out like the last time.

  Molly’s face fluttered through his mind. He closed his eyes tight, trying not to think about her. Except it was hard not to. She used to wet the bed. Brian had tried not to get cross with her about it, but it wasn’t easy when she kept on doing it, night after night. He hoped Marion wasn’t about to start with all that nonsense. Wasn’t sure he could stick it.

  ‘What about this missing girl?’ Simon asked, like he could read Brian’s mind and saw all the horrible things that were there.

  ‘What about her?’ Brian said. His voice was shaking. Had Simon noticed? He could feel his insides going all soft, the way they did sometimes when he got scared. He let off a loud fart before he could stop himself.