Kevin tried to work out what he’d tell them, but his mind wouldn’t let him think that far ahead. All he could do was what he was doing right now. Move forward, putting one foot in front of the other, focussing on the here and now. And hope that, somehow, if he kept it up, he would make it home.
16:00
The decision to start smoking again was unconscious. Ellen hadn’t deliberately woken up this morning and thought she’d buy a pack of cigarettes. Yet, somehow, she’d found herself standing in the tobacconists across the road from the station, buying twenty Marlboro Lights. So far, it wasn’t a decision she’d regretted for a single moment.
At the back of the station there was a small, covered area for officers who smoked. Normally, this was packed with people getting their regular ration of nicotine. Today, for once, it was mercifully empty. Ellen sat on a wooden bench, damp soaking through her woollen trousers, freezing her backside. She didn’t care. Anything was better than the frenetic, chaotic atmosphere of the incident room. She’d come outside to think.
The interview with Kevin Hudson had been a waste of time. His word against theirs. Most frustrating of all, Kevin’s obvious evasiveness about his whereabouts yesterday morning made Baxter more certain than ever that Kevin was behind Jodie’s disappearance. Which made it even harder for Ellen to persuade her boss they needed to explore other angles as well. It was so frustrating to watch as Kevin messed up the investigation, pulling all the focus onto himself. She wasn’t sure how aware he was of what he was doing, but he was doing it anyway.
Twice today she’d noticed a tremor in Baxter’s hands. Almost like he’d been on a heavy session the night before. Except in all the time she’d known him, Ed Baxter rarely drank alcohol and never to excess. And yet …
The shakes, coupled with the irritability. Maybe the stress was getting to him and he was hitting the bottle in the evenings as a way of coping. Ellen was hardly in a position to point fingers if he was.
She took a drag on her cigarette and sighed. She’d been so looking forward to coming back to work, but so far nothing was working out the way she’d hoped. Maybe it was this case. A missing child case was never easy. The only thing worse was a dead child investigation. And the way things were going, they’d be dealing with that soon enough if they weren’t careful.
‘Penny for them?’
Raj was standing in front of her, pack of red Marlboros in his hand.
‘Alright?’ Ellen said.
Raj lit up, took a drag and blew a thin trail of smoke into the air before answering.
‘Been better,’ he said. ‘Can’t stop thinking about Jodie, wondering what we’re missing. It would help, of course, if we had an extra pair of hands. We’re drowning under the workload at the moment, Ellen.’
Her insistence that the rest of the team refer to her as Ma’am never seemed to work with Raj and she didn’t push it. Older than the others, there was a mature air about him that would have made it difficult if she’d tried to force the issue. Not that she wanted to. She’d always viewed Raj Patel more as a friend than an employee she was meant to manage.
‘I have raised it,’ she said. ‘But Baxter’s not playing ball. Not yet, anyway.’
‘What’s going on with him?’ Raj asked. ‘You worked it out?’
‘You’ve noticed then,’ Ellen said.
Raj nodded. ‘Everyone has. There’s been a bit of gossip, if you must know. General consensus is that Abby’s dumped him and he’s not taking it very well.’
Ellen groaned. ‘Come on, Raj. Can’t you put a stop to it? That sort of talk doesn’t help anyone. Least of all Jodie Hudson. The team should be focussing on her, not on some tawdry office fling that was over nearly as soon as it started.’
Raj took another drag and looked out across the grey, empty car park. He was wearing a pale blue shirt, without a jacket. Even though it was February, he showed no sign of feeling cold. When he moved, the muscles across his shoulders rippled, reminding Ellen why so many of the women at work had a crush on him. As far as she knew, he’d never shown the slightest bit of interest in return. Privately, she suspected he was gay.
‘I like Abby,’ he said eventually. ‘She’s a good cop and decent with it. Yeah, she uses her charm to get what she wants, but who doesn’t? Can’t blame her for that, especially in a place like this.’ He turned to Ellen, intense brown eyes boring into her. ‘I’ve tried to put a stop to the gossip, Ellen. Not just because I like Abby but because, like you, I don’t think it’s very helpful. But someone needs to have a word with Baxter. Find out what the hell is going on and make it stop. He’s totally lost his focus. Have you noticed?
‘This obsession he has with Kevin Hudson, it’s not right. There are loads of other leads we need to be following up. I’m scared, Ellen. Scared we’ll mess up and this will turn into Molly York all over again.’
‘It’s partly because of Molly that he’s so focussed on Kevin,’ Ellen said. ‘I think he’s desperate. Like the rest of us, he can’t bear to think we won’t find Jodie in time.’
‘And I get that,’ Raj said. ‘But speaking frankly, that’s not much help to anyone. You need to speak to him. And soon. Before it’s too late.’
Ellen threw her cigarette onto the ground and stubbed it out with the toe of her shoe.
‘You’re right,’ she said. ‘I’ll go in there now, see if I can find him and work out what’s going on. How about that?’
Raj smiled. ‘Thanks, Ellen. I knew I could count on you. Hey, before you speak to Baxter, I’ve got something for you.’
He pulled a slip of paper from his pocket and handed it to her.
‘Ger Cox,’ he said. ‘The detective who led the Rochester end of the Molly York investigation. You asked me to get the number.’
‘What would I do without you?’ Ellen asked, grabbing the slip of paper from Raj’s outstretched hand.
‘Hey,’ he said. ‘It goes both ways. It’s really good to have you back, you know. This old place just wasn’t the same without you.’
She felt better for talking to him. He had that affect on people. Something about the calm way he dealt with problems, preferring to address them head-on instead of burying his head in the sand. There was a time he’d been her sounding board, her first port of call when she had a problem or issue that was bothering her. Since Vinny’s death, she’d let that friendship slide, like so many things. It was only now, when it was probably too late to get it back, that she realised how much she missed him.
Still, no point worrying about what might have been.
Ellen pulled her phone from her pocket and, reading the number on the slip of paper, called DCI Ger Cox.
A woman’s voice, gravel-throated and with a strong Kent accent, answered after three rings.
‘DCI Cox, how can I help you?’
A woman. Stupidly, Ellen hadn’t expected that.
‘DI Ellen Kelly,’ she said. ‘Lewisham CID. I’d really like to speak to you about a case you handled a few years ago. Molly York?’
‘Lewisham,’ Cox said. ‘It’s that missing girl, isn’t it? Jodie Hudson. Please tell me you’ve found something.’
‘It’s just a hunch at the moment,’ Ellen said. ‘But there are similarities between the two cases. Things I’d like to follow up with you.’
‘Whatever you need,’ Cox said. ‘Just tell me what you want and I’ll make sure it happens. I’ll do anything if it helps nail the bastard who killed poor Molly.’
‘Could I come and see you?’ Ellen asked. She was rapidly warming to DCI Cox.
‘Tomorrow morning,’ Cox said. ‘We can meet on the Hoo, where Molly’s body was found. I think it’s important you see it.’
After making arrangements to meet the next day, Ellen hung up. She considered whether to tell Baxter what she planned, but decided against it. She would investigate the Molly York angle by herself and only tell her boss about it if she uncovered some link with Jodie. In the meantime, she had more pressing issues to discuss with Baxter.
Following Raj Patel’s example, she decided to go back inside the station and confront those issues head-on.
17:00
Ellen left work early enough to have tea at her parents’ house. She had hardly seen the children since Sunday and she missed them. She made a mental note to fit in some more time with them over the next few days. The case was important, but so was her family. She’d made the mistake once before of putting work first. It wasn’t something she was about to let happen ever again.
‘We’re running a bit late,’ her mother called as Ellen let herself in. ‘Come into the kitchen and tell me how your day’s been.’
As she passed the sitting room, Ellen heard voices. Her children’s and a man she assumed was her father. She thought about popping her head around the door to say hello, but decided to speak to her mother first.
In the kitchen she found both her parents: her mother standing at the hob stirring something in a big pot; her father sat at the table, face hidden behind The Guardian.
Ellen frowned. ‘Who’s in the sitting room with the kids?’
‘Jim O’Dwyer,’ her mother said. ‘We’ve been having problems with the hot water. Your father called Jim earlier and he came straight over. He’s a good lad, is Jim. You look tired, Ellen. Are you sure you’re not working too hard?’
Her first day at school. She hadn’t thought about it in years. Rage and confusion. Everything made better by a smiling boy with a kind face and a dimple that appeared under his left eye when he smiled. She hadn’t seen him in years.
‘Positive,’ Ellen said. ‘What about your water? Has he managed to fix it? And what’s he doing in the sitting room if he’s meant to be sorting out your plumbing?’
‘Relax, Ellen.’ Her father’s voice rose from behind the newspaper.
‘The water’s all sorted,’ her mother said. ‘I told him you’d be here soon and he stayed to say hello. I didn’t realise you’d be so exhausted or I’d never have suggested it.’
‘I’m not exhausted,’ Ellen said. ‘I’ve already told you. I’m fine.’
Her mother tut-tutted and Ellen gritted her teeth, knowing there was more to come. She was frustrated, not tired. Her attempts to catch up with Ed had all been in vain. No one knew where he was and her phone calls had all gone to voicemail.
‘I don’t understand why you do it,’ her mother said. ‘It’s not like you need to work. Vincent left you with more than enough. I mean, I’d understand it if you needed the money, but you don’t.’
It was true. Vinny had been sensible with money. Two life assurance policies and a comfortable income from the stocks and shares he’d invested in had left Ellen with no money worries. Which was why her mother revisited this same old argument again and again. It was partly Ellen’s fault, of course. She’d never properly explained why she needed to carry on working. Didn’t know how to admit that she was scared. That even with all of Vinny’s money, the constant fear of not having enough drove her to keep going. She remembered what poverty felt like, real poverty, and it terrified her. Over time, the memories had faded but they were still there, like a stubborn scar after an accident.
She never spoke about her early life, before the adoption, not even with Sean, but she remembered it. Days passing without any proper food, the electricity gone because there was no money to pay the bills, the cold and the darkness and the fear. And the tormenting, ever-present sound of their baby sister crying.
‘You were always the same,’ her mother continued in a softer voice. ‘Independent as bedamned. I remember the day you and Sean started school. You were a bit later than the other kids because of everything that had gone on. Neither of you wanted to go, although you’d never have guessed it by the way you behaved. Sean screamed the place down like we were about to kill him. You, though, you walked in as cool as anything. Like you were meant to be there. Do you remember that?’
Ellen smiled. ‘Only because you never stop reminding us. Or the fact that I insisted on walking to school on my own after the first couple of weeks. How you had to walk behind with Sean, not close enough for me to see you but close enough so I wouldn’t get lost.’
Her mother nodded. ‘Sure maybe I was a bit like that when I was a girl myself. I just want you to know you’re not on your own. If this job is too much for you, give it up. Your father and me, we’ll help out anyway we can. Sure, we don’t care if you get a job stacking shelves in Sainsbury’s. We just want you to be happy. That’s all.’
‘I am happy,’ Ellen replied. ‘I promise. And you and Dad have been great. You are great. Now then, where are these kids of mine?’
‘Playing cards as far as I know,’ her mother said. ‘Go on in. I’ll call you when the tea’s ready.’
At the door to the sitting room, Ellen paused. Inside, she could hear Eilish’s girly squeals of laughter. Ellen and Jim had been at primary school together. St Joseph’s in Greenwich, the same school her own children now attended.
Apart from that first day, her memories of him had grown foggy over the years. She could recall one incident where he’d pulled another boy’s pants down in the playground and got into trouble for it. Apart from that, nothing. His friend, Anthony Mendoza, she remembered more vividly. She’d had an unrequited crush on him through most of her primary school years.
She pushed open the sitting room door and three faces turned to her. Her spirits lifted the moment she saw the children. Pat jumped up and raced across to give her a hug. She held him tight, smiling a hello to Jim and Eilish. Her daughter, playing it cool for Jim, nodded briefly before turning her attention back to the cards she was holding.
‘We’re playing Gin Rummy,’ Pat explained. ‘Jim’s teaching us. It’s really fun. Will you play with us?’
‘Ellen?’
He’d put his cards, face down, on the table and was walking across the sitting room towards her. The corner light was behind him and his face was cast in shadow, features only coming into focus as he stopped in front of her. She felt a sudden, unexpected flutter in her stomach.
‘Jim O’Dwyer,’ she said. ‘It’s been a while.’
‘Ellen Flanagan.’ He leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek. The gesture surprised her. Without noticing, her hand stroked her face where his lips had been.
He stood back and smiled, his hands still on her shoulders. Big hands that felt good, like they might ease all that tension from her upper body if she let him.
She wondered if she should move back, away from him, or if that would seem rude. He made the decision easy by looking down at her shoulders and laughing.
‘Seems I can’t let you go,’ he said, lifting his hands away, leaving her shoulders suddenly bare. ‘Sorry about that. It’s a shock seeing you after all these years, that’s all. You haven’t changed a bit.’
She rolled her eyes and thought how much she liked his smile.
‘Bullshit,’ she said. ‘You have. Changed lots, in fact. Last time I saw you, you were a chubby little kid with glasses and a whole load of attitude.’
The smile turned into a grin. ‘Still got the attitude. A bit too much, some people might say. Of course, others think it’s part of what makes me so loveable.’
‘By others you mean your mother, right?’
He frowned, mock-serious. ‘Not just my mother. There’s a whole army of chicks out there who find me pretty irresistible, I’ll have you know.’
‘Yeah, right. You were always delusional. I remember that now. It’s got worse over the years then? And it’s Kelly, by the way. Not Flanagan.’
This time the frown looked real. ‘Right. Sorry. And I was sorry to hear about your husband as well. I heard what happened. It must have been tough. Still is tough, I guess?’
She was saved from answering by the cacophony of noise from her children piling around them.
‘Mummy!’ Eilish jumped into her arms, wrapping herself around Ellen’s body, little arms squeezing tight across the back of her neck, little legs clamping around her middle, all her pretence o
f coolness forgotten in her efforts to win back Ellen’s attention. ‘Come and play with us.’
‘I don’t know how to play Gin Rummy,’ Ellen said, laughing as she hugged her back.
‘Mummy’s not very good at cards,’ Eilish informed Jim. ‘But that’s okay. She can be on my team.’
‘We don’t have teams,’ Pat said. ‘It’s not football, Eilish. Everyone plays by themselves.’
‘Yeah, but Mummy’s not good enough for that so I have to help her,’ Eilish replied.
Jim bent down and stage-whispered in Pat’s ear. ‘Do you think Mummy would like to get trashed?’
‘In your dreams,’ she said. ‘Come on, Eilish. Let’s show these two how it’s done. You too chicken to face us, Jim?’
They squared up, facing each other. He smiled. The dimple appeared and something inside her went soft. Then she got a grip. She unwound Eilish and put her gently down on the floor.
‘Come on,’ she said. ‘Let’s trash these boys, Eilish.’
22:00
Brian was dreaming. Even as it was happening, part of him knew it was only a dream. He would have woken up if he could but, like all the other times, the dream had to follow its course first.
… He was playing by the railway line. He liked it down there. It was only the other end of the field behind the house but it felt like another world. Once he’d climbed over the fence and clambered far enough down the slope so the house was out of sight, he always felt safe. As if no one or nothing could touch him down here. It was his secret place. Even Marion didn’t know about it. It wasn’t safe for her, not with the trains and everything. If she slipped and fell onto the track when a train was approaching, well, he didn’t even want to think about that.
Throughout the afternoon, he counted five trains. Two heading towards the sun, which was gradually sinking lower in the sky, and three going in the opposite direction. Only freight trains used this line, so he never saw people, apart from the occasional glimpse of a train driver.
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