Hunting Shadows

by Bugler, Sheila

Even still, every time a train approached, he would clamber further up the hill, away from the track, scared that the driver would see him and wonder what a boy was doing out here on his own, in the middle of nowhere.

  No one was allowed to know where they were. That was one of The Rules. Because if They found us, Daddy said, They would come and take Marion. They would leave Brian here with Daddy, because who would want a pillock like him, but They would want Marion. They would tell Daddy that little girls needed mothers and, as their mother wasn’t with them any longer, they would need to put her in a new home with a new mother.

  The idea of being without Marion terrified Brian.

  He stayed down by the railway line for as long as he could that afternoon. Until the sun disappeared completely, and the sky had faded from pink to a pale grey. He would have stayed longer except he was starving and knew he should go back to the house and start getting dinner ready.

  He ran home as quickly as he could. The sky was getting darker. He was late. Daddy would kill him if dinner wasn’t on the table in time. As he ran, he tried to remember what food was in. They had potatoes and he was sure he’d seen some ham in the fridge that morning. Yes! There was definitely ham. He’d been tempted to take a piece for himself but had managed to resist, knowing Daddy wouldn’t be happy to find a big chunk taken out of it.

  So, potatoes and ham. Daddy would have the ham but that was fine. There were more than enough potatoes for him and Marion. By the time Brian reached the house, he had the whole meal planned out in his head, was already working out how many potatoes he’d need to boil.

  He pulled open the back door and went into the house, feeling pretty pleased with himself for working it all out. Not realising the house was empty. That Daddy and Marion were gone. That he would never see either of them again.

  He started looking for them, calling out their names. But no one answered. As he moved from room to room, things started blurring, then fading. Until there was nothing left. And then, just as the house itself disappeared, he woke with a jolt.

  Awake, it made no difference. He was still alone.

  22:30

  By the time the children were settled, Ellen was good for nothing except a glass of wine and some crap TV. She nodded off on the sofa, midway through the second drink, and might have stayed there all night if it wasn’t for the phone call.

  She’d been dreaming about Vinny and when she woke, she thought for a moment he was in the room with her. She hated that. The little slice of time when life was as it once was, followed by the gut-stabbing realisation that everything was different now.

  She looked around for the ringing phone, images of Jodie over-riding everything else. She grabbed her phone and answered it without checking the caller ID.

  ‘Hello!’ she barked. ‘What is it?’

  ‘Hello to you too.’ The familiar voice was a balm, instantly soothing her.

  ‘Dai.’ She leaned back on the sofa, smiling. ‘Thank God. I thought it might be Ed.’

  ‘No news then?’ Dai said. ‘About Jodie, I mean.’

  ‘Nothing,’ Ellen said. ‘You okay?’

  ‘No change since we spoke this morning,’ Dai said. ‘Just hoping I could pin you down sometime soon for that drink you promised me.’

  In her mind, two girls’ faces appeared, side by side. Both smiling. Ellen blinked and they disappeared.

  ‘Tomorrow?’ Ellen said. ‘I’ll just need to check it’s okay with my mother. She’s already helping out more than she should.’

  ‘I could come to yours if that would help,’ Dai suggested. ‘See, the thing is Ellen, there’s something I need to talk to you about.’

  ‘We can talk now,’ she said.

  ‘It’s a bit awkward,’ Dai replied. ‘I’d be more comfortable doing it in person, if it’s all the same to you.’

  What the hell, she thought. She could do with a night out and a drink with an old colleague wouldn’t be too much of a chore, surely?

  ‘No,’ she said. ‘Let’s go out. I’m sure it’ll be fine. Besides, Mum likes you. She’ll be delighted to hear I’m meeting you. Although I must warn you, she’s mad keen for me to find someone new. She might get ideas about us.’

  Dai laughed, a rich, warm sound that Ellen hadn’t realised she’d missed until she heard it.

  ‘You could do a lot worse,’ he said. ‘I’m still considered quite a catch, you know.’

  ‘Yeah, right. At the Welsh Pensioners’ tea parties, you mean?’

  ‘Enough of that,’ Dai said. ‘Or you’ll find yourself drinking alone tomorrow night.’

  ‘And I wouldn’t want that, obviously. So, where shall we meet?’

  There was silence as Dai appeared to consider the question seriously before answering. ‘The Dacre?’

  Ellen laughed. ‘Why did I bother asking?’

  ‘Listen, when you find a decent local you stick with it. Too many poncey pubs springing up all over the place these days. The Dacre and me have a long history. Why would I mess that up by drinking somewhere else? Especially at this stage in my life. I’m assuming you’ll want to put the kids to bed first?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Okay. So why don’t we say nine o’clock?’

  ‘Nine o’clock it is. See you then.’

  When Ellen hung up, she was smiling. It had been a long time since she’d got together with Dai Davies. Too long. And it would be her first proper night out in a while. She was, she realised, really looking forward to it. It was only later, after she had gone to bed and was struggling to fall asleep, that she wondered what was so awkward Dai couldn’t tell her over the phone.

  WEDNESDAY, 16 FEBRUARY

  09:15

  The press conference was scheduled for nine-thirty, Wednesday morning. Forty-eight hours since Jodie’s disappearance. Ellen turned up early, hoping to catch Ed. Unfortunately, someone else had the same idea and got there first.

  Press briefings took place in the conference room on the first floor. When Ellen arrived, the room was already filling with reporters and camera people, all keen to get the inside story on the missing girl. She recognised a few of them, including one particular female journalist she despised. Keeping her eyes averted from the visitors, Ellen walked up the centre aisle towards the raised platform at the front of the room. This was already set up with five chairs, a table and microphones.

  Behind the platform, a door led into a smaller room, off this one. In a few moments, Baxter and the Hudsons would emerge from this room and take their places at the table. At the door, Ellen knocked first, then went inside.

  The three Hudsons were in here, sitting close together on low, black chairs. Kevin jumped up when he saw Ellen.

  ‘Are they ready for us?’ he asked.

  Ellen shook her head. ‘Not yet.’

  She wondered how they were holding up. And what the hell Abby was playing at leaving them alone in this dismal place.

  ‘Abby’s gone to see about getting us some water,’ Helen said, pre-empting Ellen’s question. ‘She’s been brilliant, actually, hasn’t she, Kevin?’

  ‘When will it begin?’ Kevin asked, ignoring his wife’s question. ‘It’s not very nice sitting here with no one telling us anything.’

  ‘Let me find Abby,’ Ellen said. ‘And see about that water. Is there anything else I can get you? Coffee or tea or anything?’

  All three shook their heads and, excusing herself, Ellen slipped out through the far door. This one led to the corridor. Out here, she found Ed and Abby huddled together. Abby was speaking forcefully, using hand gestures to emphasise her point. There was no sign of the drinks she was supposed to be getting.

  ‘Abby!’

  Abby stopped speaking and turned to Ellen.

  ‘The Hudsons are sitting in there on their own,’ Ellen said, striding towards the pair of them. ‘They’re anxious as hell. You need to be in there reassuring them, not hanging around out here. I thought you were meant to be getting them some water.’

  ‘I was,’
Abby said. ‘I am.’ She turned back to Ed. ‘Just think about what I said? Please?’

  ‘It’s none of your business,’ Ed said. ‘Now get back in with the Hudsons and do your job instead of sticking your nose into things that don’t concern you.’

  Abby flushed and looked as if she was about to respond. In the end, she obviously thought better of it and turned without another word and walked off. Fast. Footsteps banging loudly on the tiled floor.

  ‘What was that about?’ Ellen asked.

  ‘Nothing,’ Ed said. ‘What do you want, Ellen? Briefing kicks off in a moment, so it’s not exactly a good time.’

  ‘Did you get my messages?’ Ellen asked. ‘I need to talk to you.’

  ‘Is it about the case?’ Ed asked. ‘Have you got something for me?’

  ‘Not exactly,’ she said.

  ‘Well in that case I’m not interested,’ Ed said. ‘Now if you’ll excuse me.’

  ‘It’s important,’ Ellen said.

  ‘The only important thing is Jodie,’ Ed replied. ‘Now I’m going in there and doing something I hate because we have to do it. You need to put whatever personal issues you’re having to one side and focus on the case. Get focussed or get out, Ellen. The choice is yours.’

  The comment was so unjustified, Ellen couldn’t think of a suitable response. Instead, she stood there with her jaw hanging open as Ed brushed past her and disappeared into the room she’d just left.

  * * *

  Half-an-hour later, still fuming, Ellen was driving east along the A2 to the small village of Cliffe, on the Hoo Peninsula in Kent. Ed’s words repeated over and over in her head. Each time, her anger intensified.

  Personal issues? He was the one with issues, not her. It was him who was losing his focus. Him who’d got embroiled in some pathetic affair at work and was now dealing with the fall-out. Because that’s what this was about. Ellen was sure of that. Baxter and Abby had had some sort of bust-up and it was affecting the way they worked together. Christ only knew what effect it was having on Abby’s performance as FLO. One thing was for sure, Ellen was going to get Abby Roberts on her own and give her an earful. This was all her doing and now that things had gone pear-shaped, Abby could damn well sort it out.

  The Hoo Peninsula was a stretch of land situated between the Thames and Medway rivers, on the very edge of the North Kent coast, where the two rivers met the North Sea. Turning off the A2 towards Cliffe, Ellen found herself driving through a flat, bleak landscape that bore little resemblance to the ‘Garden of England’ Kent she was more familiar with.

  Cliffe was a nondescript village with a smattering of Kent clapboard houses scattered amongst a few half-hearted streets of modern, red-brick council housing. Less than thirty miles from London, it was another world entirely.

  Ellen had arranged to meet DCI Cox outside the church on the edge of town. She’d thought she might have problems finding it, but the four-sided spire was clearly visible as she approached the village.

  She pulled up outside the church, beside the only other car parked there – a red Mazda convertible. A tall blonde was leaning against the car, smoking a cigarette. As Ellen switched off her engine and climbed out, the other woman stubbed out her cigarette and came forward, hand outstretched.

  ‘Geraldine Cox,’ she said.

  Her handshake was firm, bordering on scary. Ellen tried not to wince as she introduced herself.

  ‘Thanks for agreeing to meet me, DCI Cox,’ she said, pulling her hand free. ‘I appreciate it. Great church, by the way.’

  ‘Eight hundred years old,’ Cox said. ‘See the brickwork? Layers of Kent flagstone alternated with black flint. And as for meeting you, it’s a pleasure. Any friend of Ed Baxter’s is a friend of mine. It’s Geraldine, by the way. DCI Cox makes me sound like some fat copper off an old-fashioned TV show.’

  Ellen turned away from the church and gave Cox a closer examination. Tall, probably as tall as Ellen herself, but with a fuller figure, cropped blonde hair, strong, Slavic cheekbones and ice-blue eyes. DCI Geraldine Cox was a stunner. On top of which, even though she looked no older than Ellen herself, she’d already made DCI. Comforting herself with the thought that the woman probably didn’t have any kids – let’s face it, if she did, how on earth did she find time for the gruelling hours expected of a DCI? – Ellen got straight to the point.

  ‘You said you’d take me to where Molly’s body was found?’

  Geraldine nodded. ‘I did. Leave your car here. I’ll drive. We could walk there, of course. It’s not far. But I’ve got my shoes to think of.’

  She held up one foot, revealing a killer patent black stiletto underneath her tailored trousers.

  ‘Vivienne Westwood,’ she said. ‘Divine, aren’t they?’

  ‘How do you know Baxter?’ Ellen asked, once she’d settled herself in the passenger seat of the DCI’s quite-frankly-ridiculous tiny car.

  ‘We go way back,’ Geraldine said, revving the engine and pulling away from the church with alarming speed.

  ‘I met him on a training course about ten years ago. Something about performance metrics and KPIs. I remember next to nothing about the course, but it was worth it for meeting Ed. I was only a humble DI then. It was Ed who persuaded me to go for DCI when Bruce Audley, my old boss, retired. And ever since then, Ed’s been a bit of a mentor to me, really. You know what he’s like, right? Can’t do enough to help. Then we worked together on Molly’s case. I guess you could say we have a bit of a special relationship.’

  The green-eyed monster in Ellen expanded and threatened to take over if she wasn’t careful.

  ‘Although he’s been a bit reclusive lately,’ Geraldine said. ‘There’s nothing wrong, is there?’

  ‘Not that I’m aware of,’ Ellen said. Thinking, but not saying, apart from the fact he’s screwing a female officer young enough to be his daughter.

  ‘I’ve been following the case,’ Geraldine said. ‘And I can understand why you’ve made the link with Molly. Christ, if you manage to catch that sicko, you’ll be doing the world an almighty favour.’

  The monster receded, pushed back by the image of two dark-haired girls with blue eyes and dimples.

  ‘Here we are,’ Geraldine said. ‘Told you it wasn’t far.’

  Ellen got out of the car and looked around. Behind and either side of them, flat marshland stretched out as far as the eye could see. In front of them, right on the riverbank, were the ruins of what might once have been a prison or an army barracks.

  ‘Cliffe Fort,’ Geraldine said, walking towards the ruins. ‘Built in the 1860s to stop the French invading. Later, it was used as an anti-aircraft battery during the Second World War. A crying shame they let it get into this state. No money to repair it. No one cares enough. Right dangerous it is down here. The whole place is falling down. Entry strictly forbidden – see the sign over there? This whole area,’ she flung her arm in the direction of the marshes, ‘was used as the paddy fields in Full Metal Jacket. Vietnam-on-Thames, hey? This way. Follow me.’

  Geraldine walked across to the stone wall surrounding the fort. Ellen watched as she crouched down and pushed her way through a gap in the wall. Once through, she started walking towards the river, any concern for her Vivienne Westwoods suddenly forgotten. Ellen ran forward and did the same.

  ‘Local youths come here all the time. Can you imagine if you’re a teenager in a place like Cliffe? Nothing to do except get wasted. A group of drunk teenagers was having a party here one Saturday night. Saw Molly’s body right over there.’

  Geraldine stopped and turned to Ellen.

  ‘My first case as DCI,’ she said. ‘On my good days, I still believe we’ll catch the fella who did this. You got any kids, Ellen?’

  ‘Two. Boy and girl.’

  Geraldine nodded. ‘I’ve got three. All boys. A five year-old and three year-old twins.’

  Another time, Ellen might have asked how, with three young boys, Geraldine managed to find the time to look so damn good, dress so wel
l and make DCI. Right then, however, standing beneath a grey February sky and looking at the spot where little Molly’s body had been found, she didn’t much care about things like that.

  ‘She was raped,’ Geraldine said in a voice every bit as bleak as the place where they stood. ‘Repeatedly. Early signs of malnutrition. The bastard didn’t even feed her. He smothered her. Put something over her face and held it until she stopped breathing. And then, when she was dead, he washed her – inside and out – with bleach, getting rid of every trace of his DNA. Then he brought her out here and dumped her.’

  Until now, Ger had been looking not at Ellen but down at the spot where Molly’s body had been found. Now, she turned and looked directly at Ellen.

  ‘When you find him,’ she said, ‘I want ten minutes alone with him. In return, I’ll give you everything I have on Molly’s case. I’ll go through the old files, pull out everything we’ve got. Every little lead we followed. It’s yours. In return, when you find him, you let me have that.’

  Ellen shivered. Not from fear or repulsion or anger. She shivered because the rage and determination in Ger Cox’s face and voice was something she recognised. It was exactly how she used to feel about Billy Dunston. And when that rage was directed at someone, there was only one way to quench it.

  ‘Sounds like we’ve got ourselves a deal,’ Ellen said.

  Ger nodded. ‘Good. We’ve got a lot to talk about, then. Do you mind if we go somewhere else? I don’t know about you, but I’m freezing.’

  It was a cold day but Ger Cox’s wool coat looked expensive enough to ward off anything. Ellen knew the real reason Ger suggested going was that it was just unbearable standing in this desolate place, thinking about a little girl’s body being dumped here, without a second thought. As if she wasn’t, like all children should be, absolutely the most important person in the entire world who deserved to be loved and cherished and protected from all harm. Always and forever.

  They went to a country pub on the edge of the marsh where they sat beside an open fire and drank cups of milky hot chocolate.