‘Jesus Christ, Brian!’
Simon wound down the window as the stink filled the car. He turned away, making a big show of taking in breaths of cold air. Brian was relieved. He could feel patches of red blotches on his face, the ones that appeared whenever he got nervous. Or scared.
He had to stay calm. Whatever happened, Simon couldn’t find out about Marion.
‘See, I just think it’s funny, that’s all,’ Simon said then. ‘Whenever I think of this girl – Jodie, right?’
Not Jodie, Brian wanted to scream, Marion. Her name’s Marion!
‘Well, I can’t help asking myself if you’ve got anything to do with it.’ Simon swung around and stared at him. ‘I’ve really stuck my neck out for you this time. I told the police you were with me yesterday morning. Now that’s some favour I’m doing. If I find out you’ve been lying to me, Brian, I can’t let that go. Right?’
‘Swear to God, Simon. It’s nothing to do with me. Swear to God.’
Simon reached across and grabbed Brian by the collar of his jumper, dragging him across the seat until their two faces were so close, Simon’s spittle hit Brian’s face when he spoke.
‘You’d better not be lying to me, Brian. If I find out you have this girl and you’ve been lying to me, I will make you regret the day you were fucking born. Have you got that?’
Brian wanted to tell Simon he got it, but the other man’s hold on his neck was so tight he couldn’t get any words out. So he nodded like a wild thing, thinking he’d do whatever he could to prove to Simon that he was telling the truth. Because he knew Simon, and he knew exactly what Simon would do if he ever found out about Marion.
Brian had already lost her once. It had taken him all this time to find her. Okay, things were a bit difficult right now, but they’d get easier. He’d made mistakes in the past, but they were behind him. And Marion would come around eventually. Her mind was half shot with the pain of losing Mam. She was too young to understand what was happening. It was okay for him. He was a big boy. More than that. He was a man now. It was his job to look after her, just like he’d promised Mam he always would.
He’d brought Marion back home and there was no way Simon Wilson or anyone else was going to take her from him a second time.
10:30
‘Okay, people!’
Baxter clapped his hands to get their attention. ‘Quick update from everyone, then let’s sort out our priorities for today. We’ll start with the school. McDonald?’
‘We’re working our way through a list of all families in Jodie’s year to start with,’ Malcolm said. ‘And I’ve left two uniforms on site for another day.’
‘Which ones?’ Ed asked.
‘Beaumont and Robinson.’
Ed nodded his approval and Malcolm continued.
‘General consensus amongst parents is there’s something dodgy about the parents, especially the father. How much of this is down to gossip? Hard to tell. Parents definitely not part of the ‘in’ crowd. There seems to be a group of parents – mothers, mainly – who spend a lot of time together and do a lot of fundraising and stuff for the school. The Hudsons are definitely not part of that clique.’
The description was familiar to Ellen, made her think of the cliquey group of parents at her own children’s school and how she always felt like an inadequate outsider in their company.
‘Interestingly,’ Malcolm continued, ‘this isn’t a view shared by Jodie’s friends, who all seemed to quite like her parents. Said the dad was a bit of a laugh, in fact, and that visiting Jodie’s house was more fun than most.’
‘What about staff at the school?’ Ellen asked. In her experience, it was usually the teachers who best knew what went really went on in the homes of the children they taught.
‘Teachers all very positive about the family,’ Malcolm said. ‘The Hudsons are supportive and approachable and pleasant to deal with, apparently.’
Ed snorted. ‘Looks like Hudson’s managed to pull the wool over their eyes, then. Anything else, McDonald?’
Malcolm consulted his notebook.
‘Three more families to interview this morning, but I’m not holding out we’ll get anything else from them. I spoke to the Head on the phone last night. She’s on compassionate leave. Her mother died last week.’
‘When will she be back?’ Ed asked.
‘Not till next Monday,’ Malcolm said.
‘Can’t we get someone out to wherever she is in the meantime?’ Ellen asked.
Malcolm shook his head. ‘Afraid not, Ma’am. Her mother lived in Australia. So unless the CID budget can stretch to a trip to Sydney, we’ll have to wait.’
‘Bollocks,’ Ed muttered. ‘Right. Who’s next? Patel, anything from CCTV yet?’
He was deliberately leaving Alastair until last, Ellen realised. She had to endure ten minutes of Raj droning on about the lack of leads from CCTV, and another ten minutes of Jamala Nnamani instructing them on what they could and couldn’t say to the press before Ed finally turned his attention to Alastair.
‘Dillon, did you dig up any connection with Molly York?’ Ed made a show of looking at his watch. ‘And keep it brief, for God’s sake. We’re running out of time.’
Alastair scraped his chair back from the table and stood up. Ellen hid a smile. Alastair was the only detective on the team who insisted on standing when he was briefing the boss. Ed seemed to like the respect. Ellen always found it slightly ridiculous.
‘Molly York,’ Alastair began. ‘Disappeared August 2009 from Mountsfield Park. Out for a walk with her father. There one minute, gone the next, according to him.’
‘Right,’ Ed interrupted. ‘We all know the background. Let’s just deal with this Fletcher bloke. Can we discount him or do we need to take another look? Quickly. We haven’t got all day.’
The boss was tense. Not unexpected given the circumstances, but out of character for it to be so evident. Ed Baxter was usually adept at hiding his feelings.
‘After her body was found,’ Alastair continued, ‘the investigation focussed on one suspect, name of Brian Fletcher. It was a joint investigation by then. Our lot teamed up with Rochester because the body was found on their patch. A DCI called Cox headed up their side. But you know that because …’
Ed groaned. Loudly. Alastair blushed. Furiously.
‘Sorry. Where was I? Fletcher, aye. He worked for the firm contracted to look after Lewisham and Greenwich parks. Looked likely on paper, but turned out he had nothing to do with what happened to Molly.’
Briefly, yesterday’s angry encounter with the Medway Maintenance worker flashed through Ellen’s mind.
‘What made them so sure?’ she asked.
‘Fletcher had an alibi,’ Alastair said. ‘He was working down in Belvedere the day Molly disappeared. Nowhere near Mountsfield Park when it happened.’
‘We should still follow it up,’ Ellen said. ‘Find out where he was yesterday morning.’
‘Already done it,’ Alastair said. ‘According to his boss, Fletcher was working all morning.’
Ellen frowned. ‘Is this the same boss who gave him an alibi when Molly was taken?’
‘Yeah,’ Alastair said. ‘But not just him. Another guy who works there also confirmed Brian was working.’
‘Where?’ Ellen asked. ‘Working where?’
‘Greenwich Park.’
She rolled her eyes, frustrated. Another dead-end.
Alastair finished speaking but continued standing, waiting for a sign from Baxter that he could sit down. After a moment, and still nothing from Ed, he sat down anyway.
‘Boss?’ Ellen said.
Ed frowned. Ellen realised he’d been miles away. What the hell could be more important than this, she wondered.
‘Good work, Dillon’ he said. ‘Right. Let’s put Fletcher to one side then and focus on Hudson. Ellen, any insights for us?’
‘I think you’re right,’ Ellen said. ‘He’s hiding something. But I’m not sure it’s got anything to do with
Jodie.’
‘Let’s get him in again this morning,’ Baxter said. ‘Put the shits up him. Do a formal interview, tell him he’ll need a solicitor.’
‘What about Fletcher?’ Ellen asked. ‘Sure you don’t want me to look into his background a bit more? See if there’s anything that was missed first time around?’
‘No,’ Baxter said. ‘Get across to the Hudsons’ and drag his arse in for questioning. Okay?’
Ellen wanted to say no, it wasn’t okay, but she decided to wait. When the briefing finished, she stayed at her desk until Baxter went back into his office, then she called across the room to Raj.
‘I’m going to have a word with Ed,’ she said. ‘When you get a moment, can you find the number for this Ger Cox, the Rochester DCI that Malcolm mentioned?’
‘Sure thing,’ Raj said.
Satisfied, Ellen left the room and walked down the corridor to Baxter’s office.
‘Got a minute, boss?’
Baxter looked up and nodded. ‘Grab a seat,’ he said. ‘You don’t mind if I eat when we talk, do you? Don’t want my bacon sarnie going cold.’
‘From the canteen?’ Ellen looked at the soggy sandwich Baxter was biting into. Appetising wasn’t the first word that sprang to mind.
‘I’ve had worse,’ Baxter said. ‘Was over at a mate’s house last week. Made the mistake of sampling one of his veggie offerings. Word of advice, Ellen, never let a vegetarian tempt you into trying that fake bacon. Terrible stuff.’
Ellen smiled. ‘I’ll take your word for it.’
She wondered if Baxter resorting to the staff canteen was a sign of discord in his personal life. Andrea, his wife, was known for lavishing the greatest care on her husband. In all the time Ellen had worked with him, he’d never once come to work without a lunchbox packed with homemade food. She’d long given up the demoralising process of comparing the ham sandwiches and supermarket biscuits in her own kids’ lunchboxes with the exotic salads, gourmet wraps and home-baked delights that Baxter consumed on a daily basis.
Maybe he’d finally confessed about Abby and he was being punished. Ellen hoped so. It would serve him right.
‘What is it?’ Ed asked. ‘I’m keen to get Hudson in. Whatever you want, make it snappy.’
‘Two things,’ Ellen said. ‘First off, we need another body on the team. We’re all stretched too thin and I’m worried we’re going to miss something because of it.’
‘That’s for me to decide,’ Ed said. ‘Not you. What else?’
‘I think you’re wrong about Molly York,’ Ellen said.
Ed put his sandwich down and wiped his mouth carefully with a napkin.
‘Sounds like you’re trying to tell me how to do my job, Ellen.’
‘No,’ she said. ‘Just telling you what I think, that’s all.’
Like you’ve always told me I should, she added to herself.
‘Listen,’ Baxter said. ‘I didn’t bring you back so you could start investigating three-year-old cases. Jodie’s been missing for almost twenty-six hours and so far we haven’t come up with a single concrete thing that will help us find her. Time’s running out.’
Ellen started to speak but he held his hand up, silencing her.
‘Enough. I’ve told you what to do. I want Kevin Hudson here within an hour. Do I make myself clear?’
She left Ed’s office, slamming the door behind her. Hard. He wouldn’t like it but she didn’t care. For reasons she couldn’t work out, Ed was being totally unreasonable. It was like the Baxter she knew had metamorphosed, during the months she’d been away, into a different person entirely.
He’d been distracted this morning. Not the first time since she’d been back, either. Ellen recalled her conversation with Abby Roberts the day before. The FLO was adamant Baxter hadn’t briefed her. Was it possible Abby had been telling the truth? And this bullshit about him deciding whether they needed extra support. It was a missing child investigation, for Christ’s sake. It was clear to anyone with eyes that they needed as much help as they could get.
She walked down the corridor. By the lift, she leaned against the wall, closed her eyes and took several slow, deep breaths.
‘Having a bad day?’
She recognised the voice instantly. Opening her eyes, a flood of warmth rushed through her when she saw the big man standing in front of her. Dai Davies, her colleague from back in the early days at Ladywell.
‘Dai! What are you doing here?’
‘Just passing, wasn’t I? Thought I’d drop by, see how you were.’
Stepping into his embrace, she hugged him tight, breathing in the smell of cigar smoke clinging to his clothes.
He was taller than any man she’d ever met. She remembered him embracing her at Vinny’s funeral, the top of her tidy bob brushing off the bottom of his chin as he lowered his head to whisper condolences. Funny the things you remember. She couldn’t recall what he’d been wearing or what he’d said to her, but the memory of his chin against her head was as strong as if it was yesterday.
She stood back to get a better look at him – dark eyes, thick white hair and a face more lived in than any she’d ever seen. Apart from the hair, he looked pretty much the same as he had the first time she’d laid eyes on him, her first day on the force. Dai Davies, Paul Conlon’s partner at Ladywell. That was nineteen years ago and Dai Davies was already an experienced detective. He must be nearing retirement by now, she guessed. Sad to think he wouldn’t be around for much longer.
‘No one just passes the third floor,’ she said. ‘Come on, what’s your real reason for prowling around up here?’
He nodded in the direction she’d just come from. ‘Hard at it, are you?’ She sighed. ‘Missing girl. Jodie Hudson? You’ve probably heard about it already.’
‘Ah yeah. Tough case that. I don’t envy you. Don’t suppose you can spare a few minutes to have a coffee with me?’
She thought about Baxter’s directive to get herself down to the Hudsons’ and back here as soon as she could. She shook her head. ‘I’m sorry, Dai. It’s not a good time right now. I’ve loads to get through this morning.’
He nodded. ‘Fair enough. I suppose I just wanted to see how you were. This is your first case since that business last year, isn’t it? You holding up okay?’
She swallowed the lump in her throat, and smiled. ‘I’m fine. And I’m glad you’ve dropped by. Really glad. I can’t remember the last time I saw you. I’d love a proper catch-up. Find out what’s happening over in Greenwich. How about a drink sometime?’
‘I’m free tonight, if you fancy it.’
‘Can I call you later?’ she asked. ‘Tonight might be tricky, but a drink sometime soon sounds good.’
‘Sure,’ Dai said. ‘Why don’t I give you a call this evening and we can arrange it?’
‘Yes, do that.’
He leaned down and gave her a peck on the cheek. ‘All right. See you later, then. Look after yourself, you hear me?’
The smell of his aftershave triggered a rush of memories. Dai Davies and Paul Conlon. Already sergeants by the time Ellen joined as a fresh-faced rookie. Seen it all, done it all. At first, they’d intimidated the hell out of her. Both so cynical, they seemed to know everything about everything. But they were kind to her, especially Dai, who took her under his wing and showed her the ropes, made sure she didn’t mess up.
Paul died six years ago. Cancer. Diagnosed one warm summer afternoon in June. A week after Eilish’s first birthday. Three months’ later, he was gone. There was only her and Dai left now. Survivors, the pair of them, as he’d put it one bleak afternoon after Vinny’s funeral.
It was exhausting being a survivor. Sometimes, Ellen wished there could be an easier way to go about life. Surely it was meant to be about living, not just surviving? If so, she wasn’t sure she’d found out how to do that. Not yet.
11:45
Kevin stood in the garden, smoking, sucking nicotine into his lungs, trying to ignore the noises from the kitchen behin
d him. Helen moving around, banging plates on the table, slamming drawers as she prepared lunch. Abby was in there too, acting like she was Helen’s new best friend. Kevin didn’t like – or trust – the FLO, who was too slickly charming for her own good.
He took another drag, held the smoke in until the blood rushed to his face and he felt like if he didn’t breathe out, he would explode. Smoke burst from his mouth and hung in the air in front of him, before drifting away across the garden. As he watched, the smoke seemed to wobble, fade and finally it disappeared entirely, until there was nothing left at all. Gone. Just like Jodie.
He heard a car drive down the street and stop near the house. As the car door slammed shut, a cacophony of voices rose through the air. Bloody reporters. When he’d woken this morning the street was full of them. All gathered outside the front of the house, like vultures at a fresh carcass.
Helen shouted something from the kitchen. He pretended not to hear. A sudden blast of music made him jump. Finlay in his bedroom. Probably using the music to block out the sounds on the street. Poor kid.
Kevin had tried – unsuccessfully – to persuade Finlay to go to school this morning. Said it was better than hanging around the house all day. Of course, Finlay refused and Kevin didn’t blame him for it. It was pointless, anyway. Going to school, getting an education, all the stuff they told the kids was so important. When it came down to it, you had to ask yourself, what did any of it matter? In the end, the number of A-levels you got made shit-all difference. People fooled themselves, thinking if they obeyed the rules – eat well, cut down on the booze and fags, be careful with your money, get a good education – then somehow they could protect themselves from the bad stuff. It didn’t work like that. Kevin just wished someone had told him that a long time ago, so he hadn’t wasted half his life believing he was in control.
He’d smoked every last bit of the cigarette. Flicking the still-smouldering stub onto the damp grass, he turned and went back inside. Abby flashed him a dazzling smile. He didn’t return it.
‘Can you give us a moment?’ he said instead. ‘I want a word with Helen. In private.’
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