Bring Them Home (Detective Karen Hart Book 1)

by D. S. Butler

  ‘I suppose that would be all right, but we’re not supposed to let students in early . . . You know, insurance reasons and all that.’

  ‘This is very important, Tessa.’

  ‘Yes, of course it is. Sorry, I’m sure it won’t matter just this once.’

  Karen put the phone down and felt a thrill of excitement. They were getting somewhere. If Rachel could identify the man at the school gates as Jasper Palmer, with any luck, Sian Gibson and Emily Dean’s disappearance as well as Amy Fisher’s eighteen-month-old missing person’s case could be put to bed once and for all.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Karen reached Washingborough Primary School in twenty-five minutes. She’d left the station in a rush, leaving DI Morgan to pass the news on to the superintendent.

  Tessa Grimes waited for her at the entrance and smiled as Karen approached. She opened the big double doors. ‘The head teacher’s in her office if you’d like a chat beforehand?’ Tessa suggested, closing the doors behind them.

  Karen thanked her and said that was a good idea. It would help to talk to another teacher and get more information, and she was still a little early for her interview with Sarah Macintosh and Rachel.

  Tessa showed her to the head’s office and then excused herself, saying she was going to keep an eye out for Rachel and her mother to arrive.

  The head teacher was younger than Karen had expected. With her sober black suit, slicked-back dark hair and pale make-up, Karen thought she looked like a character out of The Matrix.

  The head stood up from behind the desk and held out her hand towards Karen. ‘I’m Eleanor Trent,’ she said. ‘I was very concerned when Tessa told me about the incident yesterday. It’s horrifying to think it could be related to the two girls going missing in Heighington.’

  ‘Well, we don’t know that for sure yet,’ Karen said. ‘That’s why I wanted to talk to Rachel Macintosh.’

  Miss Trent gestured to the chair in front of the desk. ‘Please, sit down.’

  Karen sat on the upholstered chair.

  ‘We drafted a letter for all the children to take home.’ Miss Trent pushed forward a sheet of paper.

  Karen picked it up and quickly read the contents. It was a generic letter, full of warnings reminding parents that children must be aware of the risks of talking to strangers, with a paragraph at the end mentioning that a man had been seen hanging around the school gates.

  Karen put the paper back on the desk. ‘I think it’s a good idea for parents to be alert.’

  ‘Absolutely.’ Eleanor Trent cleared her throat. ‘The incident was concerning enough to prepare the letters, but it didn’t strike me as anything too sinister at the time, and Rachel didn’t seem distressed.’ She frowned. ‘Perhaps I should have done more, but I didn’t want to overreact. I remember some years ago the police had a unit that visited schools to advise children on the dangers of talking to people they don’t know. Do you provide anything like that?’

  ‘We can definitely arrange that. There are officers assigned to go to schools on a rota, so I’ll have a word and see if they can bump you up the queue.’

  Miss Trent smiled. ‘Thank you.’ She glanced at the clock on her wall and said, ‘I thought you could talk to Rachel in the staffroom. All the classrooms will be occupied. I’ve advised the teachers not to use the room because I didn’t want you to feel you had to rush your conversation. We only have six teachers so it’s not a huge space, but I think it’ll be suitable for your purposes.’

  She stood up and Karen did the same.

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Can I get you a coffee or tea?’

  Karen shook her head. ‘No, thanks.’

  She followed the head teacher out of the office. The staffroom was a little further up the corridor on the right, and when Karen entered, she saw the head teacher had been right. It was small. There was an area for preparing coffee and tea; a little table; a rigid, uncomfortable-looking sofa; and two upholstered chairs that looked a little faded and tatty.

  Once she was alone in the staffroom, Karen set about arranging the chairs so she’d be able to sit facing Rachel and her mother. She’d just moved one of the upholstered chairs to the left of the coffee table when the door opened.

  It was Tessa Grimes, and behind her was a short, brown-haired lady, clutching the hand of a little girl.

  They entered the room, and Tessa introduced them as Sarah and Rachel Macintosh. Karen smiled and made sure she kept her tone light as she asked them both to sit down.

  Tessa said, ‘If you don’t need me any more, Detective, I’ll get back to my classroom.’

  ‘I’m sure we’ll be fine, thank you.’

  Tessa smiled. ‘If you need anything before you go, the school secretary will help you. Her office is next door to the head teacher’s.’

  Karen thanked her again and then settled down into a chair and looked at Rachel and her mother. They looked terrified, which under the circumstances was certainly understandable.

  ‘I just want to start by saying Rachel is here to help us. Nobody’s going to get in any trouble, and anything you remember, however small you think it is, could help us. So it’s important you tell me everything you remember.’

  Sarah Macintosh gave Rachel a small nudge, and the child nodded.

  Sarah had pale skin and light brown hair styled into a bob. Her eyebrows were so carefully arched that Karen suspected she must have drawn them on, or maybe had them tattooed. Rachel had the same shade of hair as her mother, but hers was long, halfway down her back. She wore one pink clip pulling the top section of her fringe away from her forehead. Her skin was pale and tiny freckles dotted her nose.

  ‘Did your mother tell you why I wanted to speak to you, Rachel?’

  Rachel shook her head.

  Her mother gave an exasperated sigh. ‘Yes, I did. We talked about it on the way here.’

  ‘I know, but I don’t understand why she wants to talk to me,’ Rachel muttered.

  ‘I want to talk to you, Rachel, because you were the one who spoke to the man at the gate, and you got a good look at him. It’s not because you’re in any trouble, do you understand?’

  Rachel nodded slowly.

  ‘Have you seen the man before?’

  Rachel shook her head.

  ‘Did he tell you his name or ask for your name?’

  ‘No, he just asked me what the time was.’

  ‘And what did you say?’

  ‘I told him I didn’t know. It was lunchtime, but I don’t have a watch.’

  ‘Did he say anything else?’

  Rachel hesitated and shot a sideways glance at her mother before replying, ‘He said I had pretty hair.’

  Sarah Macintosh smothered a gasp, and Karen could understand her reaction. The comment, a nice compliment under any other circumstances, had made her own skin crawl.

  ‘Thank you, Rachel. That’s really helpful. Now, can you remember what he looked like?’

  The child chewed on her lower lip and swung her legs on the chair. Her shoes hit the wooden chair legs with a dull thud.

  ‘Stop that, Rachel,’ her mother said sharply.

  ‘He was quite tall, and he had the same colour hair as Gillian.’

  ‘Gillian?’

  Sarah Macintosh removed her arm from her daughter’s shoulders and reached down into her bag. ‘Gillian is Rachel’s cousin. My sister’s daughter. I think I have a picture in my purse.’

  A few seconds passed while Sarah Macintosh rummaged in her bag before pulling out an oversized black purse.

  She unclipped it and one section fell forward, releasing a credit card holder jam-packed with photographs. She selected one and held it out for Karen to take a look.

  ‘That’s Gillian on the left.’

  Karen looked at the pretty child. Her hair was a beautiful flame red but that wasn’t what had made Karen’s throat tighten. Her hair was exactly the same colour as Jasper Palmer’s.

  ‘Can you tell me anything else abo
ut his appearance?’ Karen asked.

  Rachel shook her head and said nothing.

  ‘What colour were his eyes?’ Sarah Macintosh asked, turning to her daughter.

  ‘I . . . I don’t remember.’

  ‘What about the clothes he was wearing?’ Karen prompted.

  ‘He had on a long brown coat,’ Rachel said. ‘It was like the one Dad used to have when he went shooting.’

  Sarah Macintosh explained. ‘I think she means a wax jacket. You know the cape-like ones.’

  Karen nodded. If necessary, they could show Rachel some photographs of various coats and see if she could pick one that resembled it.

  ‘That’s very helpful. Well done, Rachel.’

  ‘What did he do to those other girls?’ Rachel asked. ‘Was it the same man?’

  Sarah Macintosh looked horrified that her daughter had picked up on why they were so interested in the man she had spoken to yesterday.

  ‘We don’t know that yet, but we’re trying to find out. That’s why your description of him has been so helpful.’ Karen smiled, and Rachel seemed to relax a little.

  ‘Now, have you remembered anything else? Perhaps he asked you some questions?’

  Rachel’s eyes widened, and she shook her head firmly. ‘No, he didn’t say anything else.’

  ‘Are you absolutely sure, Rachel? This is important,’ her mother said.

  Rachel’s hands were on her lap and she twisted her fingers. ‘I can’t remember. I don’t think so.’

  ‘Well, you’ve been brilliant this morning, Rachel. Thank you very much.’

  Rachel raised her head. ‘Is that it? Is it finished?’

  Karen nodded. ‘Do you know where you’re supposed to be now or shall I speak to the school secretary?’

  As she spoke, the school bell rang out, and they heard the sound of a hundred children filing through the corridors.

  Rachel got out of her seat, looking relieved. ‘I know where my classroom is.’

  Sarah Macintosh took her daughter to class, and Karen hastily gathered her things.

  After stopping briefly to put her head around the school secretary’s office door to tell her she was leaving, Karen headed quickly outside. She was eager to get back to the station and start gathering the evidence to tighten the net around Jasper Palmer.

  If it were up to her, she’d head straight to the Palmer family farm now and bring him in. She couldn’t wait see that smug smile wiped off his face.

  Cathy Palmer sat at the table in the farmhouse kitchen. In front of her, spread out protecting the surface, were sheets from the local newspaper, and she was getting started on her favourite task. There weren’t many household chores she enjoyed but cleaning the family silver had always felt like a treat. She remembered her mother doing it when she was young and she’d let Cathy help.

  She dabbed a little polish on the soft cloth and began to buff the silver. It was a repetitive, meditative task and Cathy soon relaxed. Her father’s breathing was steady as he slept beside the fire, and for once, Cathy could enjoy some peace and quiet. She still had an hour or two before she had to make a start on the next meal, and her father usually slept for an hour at a time, so he wouldn’t be making demands for a while yet.

  She steadily made her way through the items of silver, paying particular attention to the picture frames. There was a photograph of Cathy’s grandparents, who’d run the farm before her father had taken over. She could barely remember them, even though they’d lived in the farmhouse when Cathy was a small child.

  It all seemed like such a long time ago, a happier time. She thought of them as the good years, when her mother was still around and her father still smiled occasionally.

  Cathy put down the cloth and pulled the old silver locket from beneath her clothing. She always wore it around her neck, discreetly hidden by high-necked blouses or jumpers. She didn’t like to take it off.

  Despite the fact that her father was almost certainly asleep, judging by his soft snores, Cathy didn’t dare open the locket downstairs. She gave it a quick polish and was about to tuck it back beneath her blouse when her father gave a loud, startled snort and jerked in his sleep, knocking over a cup that had been sitting on the small coffee table beside him. It fell to the floor and smashed.

  He turned the air blue with his swearing, and Cathy quickly got to her feet and rushed over to help.

  ‘It’s fine. It’s just a cup,’ she said. ‘I’ll clear it up and get you another cup of tea.’

  ‘Why did you put it so close to the edge, you stupid girl?’

  Cathy braced herself for more harsh words, and then she realised her father had gone strangely silent as she picked up the shards of the cup. Puzzled, she looked up and realised with horror he was staring at the locket dangling around her neck.

  Before Cathy could react, he reached forward and grabbed the locket with a sharp yank, breaking the chain around her neck. He moved quickly for an old man who couldn’t walk unassisted any more.

  Cathy’s heart was thundering in her chest as she waited for him to get started. He couldn’t deliver the beatings any more, he was too weak for that, but she could still be a victim of his verbal abuse, and sometimes she thought that was worse.

  She held her breath as his gnarled old fingers prised the locket open.

  When he saw the photograph of her mother, his face screwed up. ‘I told you to get rid of all the photographs,’ he said through gritted teeth, and then to Cathy’s dismay, he threw the locket into the fire.

  She got to her feet, grabbed a poker and used it to search through the flaming pieces of wood. He laughed at her desperate attempts to retrieve the last photograph she had of her mother.

  Eventually, she managed to hook the chain around the poker and flick the locket out. Glad it was safe, she reached for it, not considering the heat. She felt a searing pain as the hot metal branded the centre of her palm.

  She cried out and dropped it, which only made her father laugh harder.

  A sudden flash of anger overwhelmed her, and she gripped the handle of the poker, tempted to thrust the scalding metal into her father’s chest and silence him once and for all.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  As Karen walked back to her car, she reminded herself to curb her enthusiasm. Both the superintendent and DI Morgan suspected she had an unhealthy interest in the Palmer family. Karen didn’t agree. It was only that she cared deeply about this investigation. And even if Jasper Palmer hadn’t been related to the Amy Fisher disappearance, she’d still have viewed him as a potential suspect in this case.

  The super might talk about the dangers of being over-invested or emotionally attached, but Karen didn’t believe it was possible to care too much. Something had happened to those two little girls. And something had happened to Amy Fisher. Unless the people who cared pushed hard to get to the truth, the culprit would get away with it. Over her dead body, Karen thought as she got behind the wheel of her Honda Civic. She was about to start the engine when her mobile rang. It was Rick.

  ‘Rick, any news?’

  ‘Hey, boss, I’ve got a result from the CCTV.’

  Karen’s fingers tightened around her mobile, and she held her breath waiting for him to continue.

  ‘Don’t get too excited. The CCTV captured a man at Washingborough Primary. But it only shows him from the back for the most part. For just a second, we get a glimpse of him from the side. It’s definitely a man. He’s tall and slim and he’s got red hair. But I’m not sure we can ID him from the CCTV.’

  Karen was silent as she processed the information. It wasn’t the end of the world. They still had Tessa’s account as well as Rachel’s description. As far as Karen was concerned, that was good enough. They should bring Jasper Palmer in and apply some pressure.

  ‘Are you still there, Sarge?’

  ‘Yes,’ Karen said. ‘Listen, Rachel backed up what Tessa Grimes said. She got a really good look at him, so she might be able to ID him.’

  She heard Ric
k suck his breath in through his teeth. ‘You know that never goes down well, though, Sarge. A child ID won’t be popular.’

  ‘I know. But we could try Tessa Grimes first with a photograph of Jasper. We could show her a photographic ID parade.’

  Rick sighed. ‘Maybe that would work. Did Rachel give us anything else?’

  ‘She confirmed he was wearing a brown coat and from the sound of it, it’s some kind of hunting jacket, so that’s something we can look into.’

  ‘Right, that gives us something to go on. Are you coming back here, boss?’

  ‘I am. Give me ten minutes, and we’ll get together and talk this over.’

  ‘Okay. Sorry I couldn’t give you better news.’

  ‘Don’t worry, Rick. I think we’re getting somewhere now. The CCTV images might not be enough on their own, but there are a lot of signs pointing to Jasper Palmer.’

  ‘Yeah, boss. Look, about that . . .’

  Karen frowned as she heard a muffled scratching sound on the phone, as though Rick had picked up his mobile and was moving with it. When he spoke again, his voice had more of an echo. She suspected he’d taken the call out into the corridor.

  ‘This is probably none of my business, and you’re not going to thank me for saying this but I’m going to say it anyway.’

  ‘Go on,’ Karen said.

  ‘Well, it’s just all this talk of Jasper Palmer. I understand he’s a suspect – and don’t get me wrong, I think he’s a creepy bastard. But I know DI Morgan’s getting worried about the fact you’re continually focusing on the Palmers.’

  Karen’s first reaction was anger. If DI Morgan had mentioned anything to Rick about this, then that was pretty underhanded. She’d expected more of him than that.

  ‘I don’t like the idea of DI Morgan talking to you about how well I’m performing at my job.’ To all intents and purposes, Karen was Rick’s boss.

  ‘No, don’t take it like that. He hasn’t said anything directly, but I can read the signs. Both he and the super are worried you’re getting obsessed.’

  ‘Obsessed?’

  ‘Well, they didn’t say obsessed in so many words. But they’re concerned you might be a little bit blinkered, or biased. Anyway, I just thought I’d give you a heads-up, a bit of a warning.’