Gone

by Rebecca Muddiman

  Rebecca Muddiman

  Rebecca Muddiman is from Redcar and has lived there all her life except for time working in Holland, where she lived on a canal boat, and in London, where she lived six feet away from Brixton Prison. She has a very boring day job, a degree in Film and Media and an MA in Creative Writing. She won a Northern Writers’ Time to Write Award in 2010 and the Northern Crime Competition in 2012. Her first novel, Stolen, was published in 2013. She lives with her boyfriend, Stephen, and dog, Cotton, in a semi-detached house which they have christened ‘Murder Cottage’.

  Gone

  Rebecca Muddiman

  www.mulhollandbooks.co.uk

  First published in Great Britain in 2015 by Mulholland Books

  An imprint of Hodder & Stoughton

  An Hachette UK company

  1

  Copyright © Rebecca Muddiman 2015

  The right of Rebecca Muddiman to be identified as the Author of

  the Work has been asserted by her in accordance with the

  Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced,

  stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any

  means without the prior written permission of the publisher, nor be

  otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that

  in which it is published and without a similar condition being

  imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

  All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance

  to real persons, living or dead is purely coincidental.

  A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library

  Trade Paperback ISBN 978 1 444 79159 4

  eBook ISBN 978 1 444 79160 0

  Hodder & Stoughton Ltd

  338 Euston Road

  London NW1 3BH

  www.hodder.co.uk

  To Mam and Dad

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Chapter 53

  Chapter 54

  Chapter 55

  Chapter 56

  Chapter 57

  Chapter 58

  Chapter 59

  Chapter 60

  Chapter 61

  Chapter 62

  Chapter 63

  Chapter 64

  Chapter 65

  Chapter 66

  Chapter 67

  Chapter 68

  Chapter 69

  Chapter 70

  Chapter 71

  Chapter 72

  Chapter 73

  Chapter 74

  Chapter 75

  Chapter 76

  Chapter 77

  Chapter 78

  Chapter 79

  Chapter 80

  Chapter 81

  Chapter 82

  Chapter 83

  Chapter 84

  Chapter 85

  Chapter 86

  Chapter 87

  Chapter 88

  Chapter 89

  Chapter 90

  Chapter 91

  Chapter 92

  Chapter 93

  Chapter 94

  Chapter 95

  Chapter 96

  Chapter 97

  Chapter 98

  Chapter 99

  Chapter 100

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  Prologue

  11 December 2010

  Middlesbrough

  “The body was found in woods near Blyth earlier today . . .”

  DI Michael Gardner watched the images of the place he’d once known so well with a sinking feeling. It shouldn’t have made any difference. It wasn’t his problem. Not any more.

  “Though police say it’s too early to confirm the identity of the woman, it’s believed that identification found with the remains was that of Emma Thorley, who has been missing for eleven years. A police search was conducted for Miss Thorley, who was sixteen when her father reported her missing in July 1999.”

  He turned the TV off as the news segued into the weather. He didn’t need to be told what the weather was like – he knew it was bloody freezing. Gardner sat back, watching the snow slide off his shoes and drip onto the carpet. He remembered Emma Thorley well. Not the girl herself – he’d never met her – but the case. He remembered her dad and the photos of his little girl he’d shoved into Gardner’s hands. All the photos in the world wouldn’t bring her home.

  But maybe if things had been different he would’ve looked harder, dug deeper, and then . . . Would they still have found a body today?

  Louise’s hand gripped the remote, her thumb hovering over the power button. The news caught her off guard. Even though Emma Thorley had been gone eleven years, it felt so sudden, hearing it like that. The smile on her face as she’d found the perfect gift for Adam dissolved when she’d heard it. Replaced instead with the dread filling her from her gut – ice and fire at the same time.

  She needed to do something. Needed to move. But she was frozen. Staring at the images of the place she used to call home.

  The sound of the front door snapped her back to the present. She turned the TV off as Adam appeared in the doorway and she somehow managed to find a smile. As Louise watched him walk away, into the kitchen, she knew that it was over.

  Sooner or later they’d find out what she’d done.

  Blyth

  Lucas Yates lit a cigarette and felt his heart race. Emma Thorley. He hadn’t heard that name in years – at least not from anyone else. Heard it plenty in his head. He dreamed of her; even now, after all this time.

  He thought about the days they’d spent together when she should’ve been in school. A good girl going off the rails. There was something different about her. Different to all the other little slags who came knocking at his door, wanting something from him. The blonde tart off the news had said there was something on the body, something that made them think it was Emma. Weren’t saying what, though. They were keeping that to themselves.

  He’d been lying there all morning thinking about the last time he’d seen her. Thought about the anger that’d coursed through him. He’d been looking for her for weeks. And when he’d finally found her he could barely control himself. It was more than anger. It was fury. Hate. It stayed inside him, bubbling up.

  She was in his head again. Lucas punched the wall and the knobhead in the room next to his banged back
.

  He stubbed out his cigarette and stood up. As he walked to the small window he could see his own breath in the air. He looked down at the street and watched people passing by and wondered when that knock would come. If the police would come asking when he’d last seen Emma Thorley and bring up all that shit from the past. He knew it was going to happen. He just didn’t know when. The police weren’t the sharpest tools in the box but between them they might be able to put two and two together.

  Him and Emma had history.

  Chapter 1

  13 December 2010

  DS Nicola Freeman sat at her desk and looked at the clock above the door. She hated this. They were pretty sure that the dead girl was Emma Thorley – from what they could piece together the body appeared to be the right height and age. But there needed to be no doubt before she made an official statement. Before she confirmed things for Emma’s dad. It would’ve been so much easier to get a DNA comparison but Emma Thorley had no living blood relatives. Or at least no known ones. The only family that remained was her dad, Ray, but he’d adopted Emma. Nothing was ever simple.

  The phone barely got out its first ring before she snatched it up. ‘Freeman,’ she said.

  ‘Hi, Nicky, it’s Tom.’ Tom Beckett, pathologist and the most laid-back man Freeman had ever met. She usually hated being called Nicky. Only her little brother, Darren, had ever called her that, purely because she hated it, but with Tom she let it slide. To be honest, he could call her whatever he liked. The man was wasted spending his days with dead people. He should’ve been made to come and work with the living, who’d appreciate him.

  ‘Tell me you’ve got something,’ she said.

  ‘I have, but you won’t like it. Our disorganised dentist definitely does not have Miss Thorley’s records any more.’

  ‘Brilliant,’ Freeman said.

  ‘Not that it would’ve mattered a great deal. There’s not a lot left to work with. But what I can say is that it looks like your mystery girl was attacked twice, possibly once post-mortem.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Well,’ Tom said, ‘it appears she was beaten. The injuries to the face suggest that someone really had a go, probably with their fists. And it’s likely whoever did it was left-handed. The injuries were predominantly on the right side of her face. But then there are marks on some of the teeth that appear to have been made with a weapon. Possibly a hammer.’

  ‘So someone was trying to prevent identification?’

  ‘Looks like,’ Tom said. ‘Only they didn’t quite manage to finish the job. We didn’t retrieve all of the teeth but a few were in the grave and there were a couple still intact. Looks like your killer was sloppy.’

  Freeman sighed. ‘So there’s nothing that I can take to Ray Thorley?’

  ‘There’s not much else to work with in terms of identifiers. There’s the broken arm. I checked medical records and there was no match but that doesn’t mean to say she didn’t break it later on. If she did it during one of her disappearing acts then it’s possible she didn’t get it treated.’

  ‘And possible her dad didn’t know,’ Freeman said. ‘Okay. Thanks, Tom.’ She hung up. She wished she hadn’t been forced to involve Ray Thorley so soon. Wished she hadn’t had to go into his home and re-open old wounds without definitive proof that it was his daughter’s body out there. But the leak to the press about the ID in the pocket of the tracksuit top had forced her hand. At least they hadn’t mentioned the gold necklace. At least she still had something the rest of the world didn’t know. The papers were already suggesting the police had failed Emma Thorley and her father back in the day. She didn’t want to be accused of the same thing now.

  Freeman looked at the clock again. Her stomach rumbled and she wished she’d grabbed something to eat before she left this morning, but at 6 a.m. she just hadn’t been able to face anything. She took out her mobile and found the number for her doctor, her finger hovering over the call button before she threw the phone down on the desk and went back to the information she’d pulled on Emma Thorley. Her own shit could wait.

  Emma’s dad had filed three missing person reports in total. The first in February 1999, which was resolved when Emma returned of her own free will a month later. The second in April of the same year, which was quickly retracted by her father. And finally in July that year when she disappeared for good. Ray Thorley had told her that Emma’s problems had started after her mother died. Emma was fifteen and it hit her hard. She’d never been in trouble before then. She worked hard at school. Wasn’t an ‘A’ student but she tried. She was quiet. She had a group of friends but didn’t socialise with them outside of school very often. She dreamed of going to university. Ray had been saving for a long time. In the end he’d spent the money searching for his daughter and on posters saying ‘Have you seen this girl?’

  Freeman sat back in her chair. It was funny how things, how people, could change, just like that. One minute they’re good, heading for a life of security and friends, marriage and kids. And the next they’re gone. The person they were, destroyed beyond all recognition. Suddenly they’re monsters.

  She took a breath. She wasn’t going to go there. She couldn’t think about him any more. It was too hard. He’d chosen his path. And now there was nothing she could do. Nothing anyone could do. He was long gone. She hoped he was finally at peace.

  DC Bob McIlroy stomped into the office, shouting across the room at the top of his voice. The man didn’t have any volume control. Ignoring his greeting of ‘Morning, Nana’ – his nickname for her on account of her glasses (which bore little to no resemblance to singer Nana Mouskouri’s) – she watched him as he passed her desk, shirt buttons straining against his gut. She felt nauseous and turned her attention back to Emma Thorley.

  She skimmed through the reports until she found what she was after – the officer in charge of the investigation last time, a DC Michael Gardner.

  ‘Hey, Bob,’ she said and he turned around, clearly surprised she was talking to him.

  ‘What?’ he said and pulled a pack of gum from his pocket. Since someone had told him his breath stank like rotting eggs he’d been chewing gum constantly. It hadn’t helped.

  ‘You know a cop named Michael Gardner?’ She saw McIlroy’s face darken. ‘I’ll take that as a yes,’ she said. ‘Friend of yours, is he?’

  McIlroy snorted. ‘Hardly,’ he said. ‘Why? What’s it to you?’

  ‘I need to speak to him,’ she said. ‘Where can I find him?’

  ‘He left,’ McIlroy said.

  ‘Where did he go?’

  ‘Don’t know. Don’t care.’

  ‘What did he do to you? Make fun of your bald patch?’

  She could see McIlroy’s chest rise and fall. He was pretty pissed off. This Gardner must’ve done something bad to warrant that; McIlroy usually couldn’t be bothered to get angry, it wasted energy he could’ve used eating.

  ‘He screwed over another copper,’ he said and then waved his hand in front of him. ‘No, scratch that. He killed another copper.’ He turned and walked away, shaking his head.

  Freeman watched him go. He killed another cop? She saw McIlroy stop and say something to Fry, his drinking buddy. Fry turned to look at Freeman and then muttered something undoubtedly strewn with four-letter words.

  What the hell had happened with Michael Gardner?

  Chapter 2

  14 January 1999

  Lucas slid the money into his back pocket and watched the scruffy little shite scamper off with his gear. He hated this place and all the little retards in it. He’d have preferred to do business outside but his punters apparently liked the ambience of the place, damp seats and all. He needed a change of scenery. He downed the rest of his pint and slid the glass along the bar towards Tony. Unlimited refills were one perk of working in a pub run by a spineless twat.

  He looked around at the place. He hated the fact that it was well into January and there were still remnants of Christmas decorations
hanging in the corners of the pub. He hated that the same people came in every night and expected something different. He hated that he was one of them.

  ‘All right, Lucas.’

  He turned and saw Jenny Taylor staggering towards him. She was the dirtiest slag in Blyth and proper stalking him.

  ‘Piss off,’ he said as she draped herself over him, picking up his pint and taking a swig before handing it back to him. ‘Fuck’s sake,’ he muttered and pushed the glass away. Tony took the hint and got him another.

  ‘D’ya wanna come to the toilets with me?’ Jenny said, her words slurred.

  Lucas pushed her off him and she toppled onto the sticky floor. He stepped over her and walked towards the pool table where Dicko was currently making a killing. Lucas watched the smug look on his face melt away as he realised that whatever he won would be going in Lucas’s pocket, not his.

  Someone had left a pack of fags on the edge of the pool table. Lucas took one out and found his lighter. He slid both the lighter and the remaining fags into his pocket and watched a girl cross the road outside, head down, sleeves pulled down over her hands.

  Whoever was losing to Dicko asked Lucas to move out of the way so he could take his shot. Lucas ignored him. He realised who the girl was. He’d seen her with Tomo a few days earlier. She hadn’t said a word. Just stood there, looking at the floor. Didn’t look very old but Tomo said they were in the same year so that made her fair game. She kept pushing her blonde hair behind her ear but it fell back every time. She was proper blonde, not like some of the other skanks he knew. He’d hoped she’d stick around but she reckoned she had to get home. He hadn’t stopped thinking about her all night. Even asked Tomo where she lived. And now here she was again.

  Lucas pushed the door open and went outside. He stopped in the middle of the pavement and watched her. She almost collided with him before she realised anyone was there.

  ‘Sorry,’ she muttered and went to walk around him.