Only about a thousand times, Ellen thought. Once, a long time ago, she’d made the mistake of offering to read one of Dai’s short stories. It was a mistake she wouldn’t repeat in a hurry.
‘Helen was my writing partner, you see. We would read each other’s stuff and comment on it, that sort of thing. God, she can write, that woman. A pity she never took herself seriously enough to give it proper go. With that talent, and the looks to go with it, who wouldn’t want to publish her?’
He had a thing for her, Ellen realised. Helen. Her looks hadn’t struck Ellen as anything special when they’d met the other day. But stricken with grief, the woman was hardly looking her best. Who knew what she looked like under normal circumstances?
‘She was with her first husband then,’ Dai said. ‘Her name was Helen Lawson in those days. A right bastard he was. Carrying on with another woman behind Helen’s back. Helen knew what he was up to, though. Told me all about it. Only every time she confronted him, he denied it. Called her paranoid for doubting him.’
‘You offered to help, I take it?’
‘I couldn’t bear seeing her like that, you see,’ Dai said. ‘She wanted to leave him, but it’s not easy when kids are involved. Part of her thought, what if he was right? What if all those late nights and whispered phone calls were as innocent as he claimed they were? So yes, I offered to help.’
Dai drank deeply from his pint glass before he spoke again.
‘I had him nailed down within the week. He was only banging his own secretary. And all the time he was at it, there was poor Helen – going out of her mind. And you know what’s so strange about it, Ellen? That secretary. She wasn’t a patch on Helen. You’d wonder what it is about some people. Don’t know a good thing when it’s staring them in the face.’
Ellen lifted her glass, realised it was empty, put it back down again.
‘I need a fag.’ She stood up. ‘I won’t be long.’
She couldn’t get the cigarettes out of the machine quickly enough. Outside, she ripped open the pack, pulled out a fag, lit it with the lighter she’d brought along ‘just in case’ and inhaled. She held it in for as long as she could, then exhaled slowly, watching the trickle of smoke float over the empty beer garden.
Damn Dai Davies, anyway. Why did he have to complicate everything? The Hudsons hadn’t struck her as a couple in love. And she didn’t think the tensions between them were just because their daughter was missing. In fact, the more she thought about it, the more she started to believe the real reason for their marital discord was sitting inside the pub waiting for her.
Damn Dai.
Ellen finished her cigarette, squashed the butt into an overfull ashtray and marched back inside.
‘Right,’ she said, sitting down opposite him. ‘I think I’ve worked this out. You and Helen have a little thing going. How long it’s been going on for I do not know and I do not want to know. But she’s the reason you turned up at the station the other day. She’s got in touch and asked you to keep an eye on things. She knows you’re not with Lewisham, but she guesses you’ll have mates who are. Mates, like me, who are an easy touch. Especially when they’ve just been through the wringer with the IPCC.
‘So, are you going to do a Baxter and convince me Kevin’s guilty? I’m guessing that’s the handiest option, isn’t it? I mean, with Kevin out of the way, you’ve got a clear path to his missus, right?’
‘Wrong,’ Dai said. ‘And you’ve got no call speaking to me like that, either. I don’t understand why you’re so angry. I wanted to tell you the other day, when we met in the corridor, but it wasn’t the right time or place. Why the hell do you think I wanted to see you? It was so that I could tell you as soon as I possibly could.’
Then Ellen realised the real reason for her anger. She was hurt. Stupidly, she’d thought Dai wanted to meet for old time’s sake. As if.
‘I’m already being pushed by Baxter,’ she said. ‘And now I feel as if you’re going to do the same thing. I was so looking forward to being back, Dai. And maybe I sort of built it all up too much in my mind. But I just didn’t expect it to be like this.’
‘Like how exactly?’
‘I’m not sure,’ she said. ‘Maybe it’s Baxter. Or maybe I’m the problem. Maybe it’s that I don’t like not being my own boss. With the Hope case, Baxter wasn’t around. So I was in charge. Everything we did, it happened because I wanted it to.’
She stopped, not sure if she was making any sense.
‘You thought you were on track to becoming a DCI,’ Dai said. ‘And now you’re not and you don’t like it.’
She shrugged. ‘Maybe. Or maybe I just don’t like every man and his dog telling me what to do.’
‘I wouldn’t do that.’
‘Isn’t that why you’re here?’ she said.
‘No. I’m here because you’re my friend,’ Dai said. ‘And when Helen called and asked me to help, I wanted to run it by you before I said yes.’
‘And what if I say no?’ Ellen asked.
‘Then I’ll tell her that.’
‘What does Helen think you can do that we’re not doing already?’ Ellen wanted to know. ‘Besides, what can you do? You’re Greenwich. It’s a Lewisham case.’
‘Listen,’ Dai said. ‘Her daughter’s missing. She’d done what any normal person would do under those circumstances and called the one person in the police she knows and trusts. She’s not asking me to take over or go behind your backs. She’s just asking if I’ll help in any way I can.’
‘You can’t come into the team,’ Ellen said. ‘I’ve already spoken to Ed about getting another body in. He won’t even consider it.’
‘But if I could help out unofficially?’
Ellen chewed her lip as she thought this over. To have someone else as a sounding board wasn’t a bad idea. Except she had to be sure Dai didn’t have his own agenda for wanting to help.
‘I don’t think Kevin did it,’ he said. ‘If that’s what you’re thinking.’
She smiled. ‘More or less exactly what I was thinking, actually. Tell me why, then. Why didn’t he do it?’
‘Kevin’s a funny chap, right enough. I cannot for the life of me work out what Helen sees in him, but that’s neither here nor there. The thing is, he’s decent really. And even if he doesn’t like the day-to-day grind of – how did you put it? – looking after two kids and running a house, it doesn’t make him some sort of child abductor, does it? If that was the case, wouldn’t most parents murder their children at some stage?’
‘Baxter doesn’t see it,’ Ellen said. ‘Usually, we work pretty well together. It’s like when I was with you. You know, we always saw things in the same way. And that’s what it was like with Baxter. Until recently.’
‘Why’s that, then?’
Ellen sighed. The truth was, things had never been the same between them since she caught him with Abby. But she wasn’t about to tell Dai about that.
‘Molly York,’ she said instead. ‘Baxter led the investigation when she first disappeared. I was on a secondment to Trident at the time so I wasn’t part of the team. Baxter took it hard when Molly’s body was found. Blamed himself, I think, for not finding her in time. Now another girl’s gone missing. Maybe he’s lost his perspective.’
‘So what do we do?’ Dai asked.
‘We need to find her,’ Ellen said. ‘And we do whatever it takes to do that.’
‘Even if it means upsetting Baxter?’
Ellen nodded. ‘Yes. There’s been too much death in my life, Dai. I don’t want any more.’
Dai raised his glass and winked at her. ‘No more death. I’ll drink to that.’
And just like that, it was done. As Ellen clinked glasses with him, she hoped she was doing the right thing. Because if she wrong, if Dai Davies wasn’t being straight with her, she could get into a whole lot of trouble. And with her recent track record, that was the last thing she needed right now.
22:15
Ellen’s mother was dozing on th
e sofa, seemingly oblivious to the noise blaring from the over-loud TV.
‘Do you mind?’ she said, sitting up as Ellen turned down the volume. ‘I was watching that.’
‘Sorry, Mum,’ Ellen said. ‘I thought you were asleep.’
Her mother snorted. ‘As if. How was Dai?’
‘Fine,’ Ellen said. ‘Same as always really. He sends his love.’
She sat down on the sofa beside her mother and took her hand, rubbing her thumb along the calluses on her mother’s palm. ‘Was everything okay here?’
‘Grand.’ Her mother gave Ellen’s hand a squeeze. ‘Sure your two are no problem. It’s great the way you get them off to bed so early every evening. Some difference to the way yourself and Sean were at that age. A right pair. Used to drive me mad, trying to get the two of you to settle. It’s so much easier with Pat and Eilish. For a start, you only have to get one of them off at a time. You two used to wind each other up, get yourselves all excited.’
Ellen smiled. It wasn’t like she hadn’t heard her mother making this comparison, and hundreds of others, many times before. Inevitably she favoured Pat and Eilish, demonising the young Ellen and Sean. Ellen was sure they were never as bad as her mother made out. She was equally sure she’d probably do the same thing if her own children ever had kids.
It was part of the rituals of families, she supposed, stomach twisting as she thought about Noreen. Her other mother.
‘Will you have a cup of tea before you go?’ Ellen asked.
‘Ah no,’ her mother said. ‘I’ll be getting off. Your father doesn’t like it when I’m not there. He won’t go to sleep, you see, until he knows I’m home. And then he’s a right grump in the morning if he hasn’t had enough rest. Speaking of which, you still look tired. I think you’re working too hard.’
Dai had said more or less the same thing earlier. She obviously looked a complete wreck.
‘I’m fine,’ she said. ‘Besides, you’re the one doing the real work, Mum. If it wasn’t for you, I’d have had to tell Ed I couldn’t come back. And that reminds me. It’s too much for you and Dad, taking the kids every day. How would you feel if I signed them up for the after-school club a few days a week?’
‘No.’ Her mother’s voice brooked no argument. ‘You know how your father and I feel about that, Ellen. We love having your kids. Sure, why would we send them off to that God-awful place when they can be with us?’
‘It’s not awful at all,’ Ellen said. ‘The kids who go there seem to really enjoy it.’
‘Yes, but not Pat and Eilish,’ her mother said. ‘You know they’d much rather be with us. Or with you.’
Ellen sighed. How could she explain that the idea of not working terrified her? That without work, all she had was the children and no matter how tempting it was, she couldn’t let them become the single focus of her life. Because before she knew it, they’d be grown up and the last thing they’d want was some needy mother trying to push her way into their adult lives. Because without Vinny and her job, the children were all she had. And that could be a good thing or a bad thing, depending on how she handled it.
‘I’ll think about it,’ she said. ‘Maybe.’
Her mother smiled. ‘Good girl. Now then, I’m going to make a move. Check your father’s survived without me.’
‘Well at least let me call you a taxi,’ Ellen said. ‘I hate the thought of you walking home on your own.’
Unsurprisingly, her mother wouldn’t hear of getting home by any means apart from shank’s mare and, reluctantly, Ellen gave in.
‘It’s only down the road, Ellen. What do you think could possibly happen to me between this side of Trafalgar Road and the other? You need to take a chill pill, so you do.’
Ellen tried not to smile. ‘You reckon? Maybe I’ll do that. But only if you promise to call me when you get home.’
Muttering something to herself about Greenwich not being anywhere near as dangerous as it was in her day, Bridget Flanagan buttoned up her coat and disappeared into the night.
Five minutes later, she phoned to report her safe arrival home.
Allowing herself to relax then, Ellen poured herself a glass of Merlot and sat in the sitting room, thinking about her meeting with Ger Cox and the brown, bleak landscape of Hoo. There was something about those flat, muddy marshes that got under your skin and stayed there. A sort of ghostly possession.
Vivienne Westwoods and impeccable grooming aside, Ellen liked Geraldine Cox immensely. And her assessment of Baxter had, in Ellen’s opinion, been spot on.
If he says Kevin Hudson’s your man, then he’ll have spent so long working up to that decision that nothing is going to change his mind.
So what was it that made Baxter so certain?
Ellen moved across to the laptop and started reading through news reports on Jodie Hudson’s disappearance. All of them ran with the same photo of the pretty ten-year-old with thick dark hair and a smile that broke your heart.
‘Where are you, Jodie?’ Ellen whispered.
Her mind flashed back to the afternoon last summer when Pat got lost in Greenwich Park. Ellen still couldn’t think about it without feeling sick. It was the powerlessness, worse even than the fear, that had nearly killed her. The fact that there was nothing in the world she could do to bring him back.
Pat turned up a few hours later. Jodie Hudson had been missing for three full days. Ellen couldn’t begin to imagine what her parents must be going through.
In her bag, Ellen’s mobile started ringing. Pulling it out, she saw it was Baxter calling.
‘Ed,’ she said. ‘What is it?’
‘I wanted to apologise,’ he said. ‘For this morning. I was out of order and I’m sorry.’
‘It’s fine,’ Ellen said.
‘No it’s not,’ Ed said. ‘I’ll try to make sure it doesn’t happen again. I’ve got a lot of shit on my plate right now, Ellen. Unfortunately, you got in between me and that plate this morning.’
‘Lovely analogy,’ Ellen said. ‘Any updates?’
‘Nothing,’ Ed said. ‘I keep going over things, wondering what the hell we’ve missed. There has to be something, Ellen. What about Kevin? Do you think I’m wrong about him?’
‘Maybe,’ she said. ‘Maybe not. If he’s guilty, though, he won’t get away with it. You’ve got someone with him 24/7, right?’
She thought about pushing the Molly York angle again but decided not to. Another angry stand-off was the last thing she felt like right now.
‘Two FLOs working rotation,’ Baxter said. ‘With Abby leading, of course.’
Of course.
‘If he’s hiding something, we’ll find out,’ Ellen said, preferring not to dwell on Abby.
Baxter sighed. ‘Will we? That’s what I said the last time, Ellen. When Molly went missing. I really believed we’d find her, you know. Really believed it, deep in my gut.’
‘And what about this time?’ Ellen asked.
‘This time I don’t know what to think,’ Baxter said.
Ellen wanted to offer him reassurances, to tell him it would be all right and they’d find her. They’d find her and bring her home and she’d be safe. No one would ever hurt little Jodie Hudson ever again. Except she couldn’t find the right words. So she said nothing. Just stayed on the line, looking at the photo of Jodie Hudson on her computer screen, and listening to the endless hum of a dead line in her ear after Baxter hung up without another word.
THURSDAY, 17 FEBRUARY
06.00
There’s a window on the wall over the bed. It’s got bars across it. Which is stupid because it’s way too high for anyone to try to climb through it. The only way out of this stupid place is through the doors and he keeps those locked.
I hate him.
He’s mad. Like, really properly mental. And I don’t know what you’re meant to do with a mad person or how you can get them to not be mad. Can you do that? He’s decorated this shed like it’s a bedroom. That’s because he thinks I’m this Marion,
who’s his sister. Even though I’ve told him a million times that I’m not her.
We have a shed. I think it’s meant to be for Dad, but we use it for dumping all our stuff. Dad’s golf clubs and our bikes and all the things that drive Mum mad if we forget to put them away and they clutter up the hallway. She hates clutter but Dad doesn’t care about it.
There’s a toilet in here. And a TV. A really crap TV. It’s massive and old-fashioned like the one Nanny used to have. All you can watch on it is those videos and they’re so stupid and if I have to watch any more of them, I’ll end up mad just like him.
Dad let him take me. I think it’s because he was so angry at me. He was really angry that morning because we were late and I wouldn’t wear my school shoes because they were all dirty and I hate them and I wanted to wear my new trainers. I told him I hated him.
That’s why I’m here. It’s a punishment.
I’ve been praying. It doesn’t seem to make any difference.
I’m still here.
10:00
Ellen had tried – unsuccessfully – to reschedule her next session with the counsellor.
‘If you cancel, you’re off the case,’ Briony said when Ellen called early on Thursday morning.
‘A child is missing,’ Ellen said. ‘Surely that’s more important?’
‘If you start skipping your sessions,’ Briony replied, ‘then I can’t guarantee you’re in a fit state to lead this investigation. I’ll see you at ten.’
The counsellor had hung up before Ellen had a chance to say anything else. And so, on Thursday, when she should have been getting on with the job of finding Jodie, Ellen was sitting on a chair in Briony’s bright, airy surgery in Ladywell, talking about things she hated talking about and wishing she could be anywhere else.
Briony Murray was a petite, pretty, perky Antipodean who bore more resemblance to a cheerleader than a shrink. Until she opened her mouth. The two women sat facing each other in comfortable armchairs placed either side of a Victorian fireplace in Briony’s office. Like the counsellor, the room was bright and light.
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