Gone

by Rebecca Muddiman

  Lucas sat down low in the chair and closed his eyes. He could hear a kid yammering a few seats behind him. After a couple of minutes he felt the presence of someone standing over him.

  ‘Ticket.’

  Lucas opened his eyes. The sleeping passenger ploy never worked. He sat up and dug into his pocket.

  ‘Newcastle, please,’ he said.

  The ticket guy pressed buttons on his machine and the ticket spewed out. ‘Four-ten,’ he said.

  Lucas continued to search his pockets, giving the inspector a smile. He made a show of it, patting himself down.

  ‘It’s in here somewhere,’ Lucas said and the inspector just stared, unimpressed. Lucas stood and frowned. ‘Shit,’ he muttered. ‘I’ve lost my wallet.’

  The inspector raised one eyebrow and leaned one arm on the back of the seat. ‘It’s four-ten or you’ll have to get off at the next station.’

  Lucas shrugged. ‘I’m sorry. I’ve lost my wallet.’ He looked on the floor around him. The inspector just shrugged back.

  ‘Get off next station then,’ he said and turned to the old woman on the seat opposite him.

  ‘Newcastle,’ she said and looked at Lucas. ‘And for the young man.’ She smiled at Lucas like old people do.

  ‘Oh no, I couldn’t,’ Lucas said.

  ‘Don’t be silly. Two to Newcastle,’ she said to the inspector, who just shook his head. As he walked away Lucas returned the smile.

  ‘Thank you,’ he said and thought maybe his luck was turning. If he’d known beforehand that he could rely on the kindness of strangers he would’ve asked for the fare all the way to Middlesbrough. Still, it was better than nothing.

  ‘That’s all right. Where’re you off to?’

  ‘I’m going to see an old friend.’

  ‘Oh, that’ll be lovely,’ she said and Lucas grinned.

  If only you knew.

  Chapter 52

  16 December 2010

  Freeman stood against the reception desk, waiting for someone to come out. She needed to go back to Morpeth, make sure it was Lucas who’d been at the Taylors’, but something had made her stop as she drove through the town. Someone had broken into the clinic. They might’ve been looking at the personnel files. Might’ve. Maybe it was just a junkie searching for anything worth money. But it didn’t feel right.

  ‘DS Freeman? Back again?’

  Freeman looked up as Jessie came out into the reception area, pointedly looking at her watch. Clearly Jessie was nearly done for the day. Lucky her. Another woman, the blonde she’d seen last time, followed, looking nervous.

  ‘I’m not sure what else I can tell you about Ben.’

  ‘I’m not here about Ben this time. I was just wondering if you recognised this man,’ she said and slid a picture of Lucas across the desk.

  Jessie shook her head but the other woman let out a breath.

  ‘Andrea?’ Jessie said.

  ‘You recognise him?’ Freeman said. ‘He’s been here?’

  Andrea nodded and burst into tears. Freeman looked to Jessie, who just shrugged.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ Jessie asked.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Andrea said. ‘I know I should’ve told you before but I didn’t tell him anything. I swear.’

  ‘Excuse me,’ Freeman said, taking the picture back.

  ‘He came here looking for Ben a few days ago. We never told him anything. But then I saw him in the pub. I recognised him and started talking to him and then the next thing . . . he’d sweet-talked me into bed with him.’

  ‘Lucas Yates did?’ Freeman asked, pointing at the photo, her brain struggling to keep up with Andrea’s teary confession.

  ‘Wanker,’ Andrea said. ‘He kept asking about Ben. I didn’t think. I thought he liked me and then the next thing he just buggers off.’ She wiped her eyes, her mascara crawling down her cheeks.

  ‘What did you tell him?’

  ‘Nothing. He wanted to know where Ben was.’

  ‘And did you tell him?’

  ‘No. I don’t know where he is. I haven’t talked to him since he left. I just said he went back to Alnwick to look after his mum.’ Andrea looked at Freeman. ‘I’m so sorry.’

  Freeman ignored her. So Lucas was looking for Jenny and Ben. Why? Did they both know what’d happened to Emma? Was he trying to get to any witnesses before they could tell her what’d happened?

  She walked out, trying Ben’s number. ‘Why would Lucas Yates be trying to find you?’ she said as soon as Ben picked up.

  ‘I don’t know,’ he said, his voice a whisper.

  ‘Mr Swales? You did know Lucas Yates, didn’t you?’

  ‘Yes,’ Ben said. ‘Well, no, not really. More by reputation.’

  ‘So why would he be trying to find you?’ She waited for Ben to talk but all she heard was a faint buzz on the line. ‘Ben?’ Freeman said. ‘You clearly know a lot more about this than you’re telling me. So, I’ll ask again. Why is Lucas Yates looking for you?’

  ‘I don’t know. Maybe he found out what I did for Emma. I don’t know.’

  ‘Well, he obviously knows something. He’s going to great lengths to find you.’ Freeman sighed. ‘Look, I don’t think Yates knows exactly where you are yet but he’ll probably keep trying. So just be careful.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Ben said and hung up.

  She had no idea why Lucas wanted to find Ben or how he was involved. But whatever was going on, she knew it couldn’t be good.

  ‘Excuse me,’ Angie said, hand on hip, drink in the other hand. ‘I’ve had enough of you lot. I’ve got nothing else to say to you.’

  Freeman stomped past Angie, through to the Taylors’ living room. She was already in a bad mood without Angie Taylor’s attitude problem. She was sick and fucking tired of this case.

  ‘This won’t take long,’ Freeman said. She took out a picture of Lucas Yates and held it up in front of Angie. ‘Recognise him?’

  ‘Yes. It’s your mate, McIlroy,’ Angie said.

  ‘Wrong.’ Freeman shoved the picture into her pocket. ‘It’s Lucas Yates.’

  Angie was about to argue but instead turned to her husband who was sitting quietly on the settee. Angie turned back to Freeman.

  ‘Lucas Yates was an acquaintance of both Jenny and Emma Thorley. I believe he had something to do with Emma’s death and I think Jenny knows something about it. So I need you to tell me everything that was said earlier. What he wanted, what you told him, everything.’

  Freeman looked from Angie to Malcolm and back. Angie stood gawping, almost as if she were going to cry. Freeman let out a breath. Maybe she’d been too harsh. Angie Taylor was a pain in the arse but she obviously had some shred of feeling left, and now she’d come bounding in telling her that she’d probably been entertaining a killer. Perhaps she could’ve been gentler.

  ‘Why would he pretend to be someone else?’ Angie said, her voice softer than before. ‘What’s he want Jenny for?’

  Freeman sighed. ‘I don’t know, to be honest. Maybe Jenny knows something about Emma’s death, knows that Lucas killed her. That’s why I need you to tell me everything.’

  Freeman listened to Angie and Malcolm tell their tale, overlapping and interrupting each other. When they’d finished she asked how much they remembered from the file Yates took. Not a great deal – the locations of some of the girls this investigator had found, little else. But clearly he hadn’t traced their daughter, so what else was in the file that Lucas found so interesting?

  ‘Was there an address in Middlesbrough in there?’ Freeman asked.

  ‘Yes,’ Malcolm said. ‘I think so. Why?’

  ‘I found an address for Jenny in Middlesbrough,’ Freeman said, watching as the Taylors’ faces changed in unison.

  ‘You knew where she lived and didn’t tell us?’ Malcolm said.

  ‘I had someone drop by but there was no answer.’

  ‘I don’t bloody believe this,’ Malcolm said, animated for the first time.

  ‘Look, it’
s starting to look like she’s not even there any more. But,’ Freeman continued, trying to placate them, ‘you said there were photos in the file. Obviously your daughter wasn’t one of the girls but is it possible this guy got it wrong? How much do you know about him? Was he legit? Maybe took pictures of the wrong girl?’

  Angie and Malcolm exchanged glances. ‘It’s possible,’ Malcolm said. ‘Bloody cowboy.’

  Chapter 53

  16 December 2010

  Lucas stepped off the train and looked around the station. So this was Middlesbrough. Unfortunately he’d found no sweet old ladies to con at Newcastle Central station so instead he’d had to lift a couple of wallets. But that was fine. One paid for his ticket. The other, well, the owner of that one wouldn’t miss it. Anyone who carried two hundred quid around with them didn’t need it that much. He wondered if he should find somewhere to stay for the night but he needed to make his move. If Freeman was on the same track he needed to get it done fast.

  He walked down the steps, through the subway. He had no idea where he was going so he followed the small crowd who’d got off the train with him and found himself on the other side of the platform. He walked out into the cold night air and tried to decide what to do. There was no chance he’d be able to find the address by himself so a taxi was in order. He walked across the gravel, found one idling and climbed in the back.

  ‘Ayresome Street,’ Lucas said and slammed the door. The driver grunted and pulled away, saying nothing. Lucas was grateful for that at least. He hated chatty taxi drivers.

  He watched the grimy streets pass by. Groups of Ben Sherman’d chavs and their slappers piled out of pubs and staggered up the street to the next bar, already unable to stand properly. Several had Santa hats or flashing reindeer antlers on. God, he hated Christmas.

  The taxi turned a corner into a residential area. The driver glanced back at Lucas. ‘What number?’ he said.

  ‘Here’s fine, mate.’

  The driver pulled over at the side of the road and turned. Lucas looked at the meter. Three pounds sixty. He didn’t have enough change. He wanted to make a show of counting out the exact money. Instead he pulled a fiver out of his pocket and gave it to the driver.

  The driver nodded. ‘Thanks.’

  Lucas sat and waited for his change. The driver looked back at him and seemed indignant. He made a show of his own, rummaging around and finding the right coins. He slapped them into Lucas’s palm and Lucas grinned and got out.

  ‘Have a good night,’ he said and slammed the door. Through the window he could see the driver saying something not altogether flattering as he drove off.

  Lucas turned and looked back up the road. It was freezing. Colder than it had been at home, if that was possible. He kept his eyes on the house numbers and came to a stop as he saw the one he was looking for. He could see the shape of a Christmas tree behind the curtain and he wondered if she was there, anticipating a happy Christmas, and what she’d say when she saw his face. The ghost of Christmas past.

  Lucas walked up to the house. There was no one around, no one else on the street. He raised his hand and knocked.

  No answer.

  He moved closer to the window, listening for movement or the sound of the TV.

  Nothing.

  Lucas tried the door. Locked. He stepped back and looked along the street. The houses were terraced; eight, maybe ten in a row. He shoved his hands in his pockets and stepped back. He started walking to the end of the row. There had to be a way in at the back. Probably a better way, less conspicuous. He turned the corner and found himself staring at the backs of the houses, small yards behind each. A narrow alley ran along the back, but a blue metal gate restricted access. Lucas glanced behind him. The street was empty so he made a run for the gate and climbed over.

  When he worked out which one was hers, he opened the back gate and stepped into the yard. It was empty except for a couple of wheelie bins. He tried the back door. Locked as well. He looked around, spotting a brick outside the gate. He picked it up and smashed it into the door’s narrow windowpane. He didn’t wait to see if anyone was watching, or if anyone had heard. He quickly unlocked the door and went inside.

  Lucas stuck his head in the first room. There was a dining table and four chairs but it looked like it was rarely used. Instead of place mats and salt and pepper shakers the table was covered in books and papers. He walked into the living room where the light had been left on and a Christmas tree stood in the window. Lucas looked around. There were some letters on the table. He bent down to look at the name on the labels. Adam Quinn. Adam Quinn. Adam Quinn.

  Lucas stood up and went to the mantelpiece. Not even a photograph. He picked up a Christmas card. It was just signed ‘best wishes from Karen’. He put it down just as car lights shone in on him. He went to the window and watched someone get out of a taxi across the road. He turned and started up the stairs.

  He walked into the bedroom. The double bed took up most of the room. He could see that, but it was too dark to make out anything else. He flicked on the light using his elbow. He still couldn’t see any photos, nothing to give him any certainty. He scanned the room. It was a mess. And then he noticed it on the bedside cabinet. A diary.

  Lucas sat on the edge of the bed. He picked it up, flipping to the first page where personal details should’ve been.

  Empty. He flicked through. Most of the pages were blank. Whoever the diary belonged to didn’t have much of a life. He stopped when he saw writing. Adam’s birthday. He flicked further, past more empty pages. And then something fell out, fluttering to the floor. Lucas bent to pick it up. It was an address. He was about to shove it back in when he stopped. The address was in Alnwick. A smile started to spread across his face.

  He slid the paper into his pocket and stood up. He wondered if she could’ve gone there already. He turned off the light as he walked out of the room and then froze as he heard the door.

  Chapter 54

  6 July 1999

  Lucas pushed his way out, not caring whose drinks he knocked over in the process. Some fat cow with a Tango tan screeched after him that he owed her a drink. Any other time he would’ve stopped, had a word with her, but he didn’t have time now. The sound of Robbie Williams faded as the door slammed behind him.

  He made his way outside, walking into the road to see better. He knew it was her. Could tell her hair from a mile away. Blonde. The colour of butter. Lurpak, Tomo said one night. He was off his face, thought he was being poetic. He was just being a dick.

  A car beeped at him and Lucas gave the driver the finger without turning. He could see her at the end of the street. She was walking with her head down. He started to run after her.

  ‘Emma!’

  She almost stopped but instead looked over her shoulder before speeding up. She dodged a group of old folk with small, yappy dogs and turned the corner. Lucas picked up his pace. By the time he reached her he was almost out of breath but he knew it wasn’t from the running.

  He moved in front of her, blocking her path. She didn’t look at him, just kept trying to get round him.

  ‘I was shouting you,’ he said. She ignored him and turned to walk back the way she’d come. ‘Oi,’ he said. ‘I’m talking to you.’ He grabbed her shoulder and spun her around.

  ‘Leave me alone,’ Emma said and tried to pull away. Lucas gripped harder and pushed her against the window of the bookies. No one batted an eyelid. All eyes on the race.

  ‘Where’ve you been?’ he asked her, pressing himself into her body. ‘Eh? Answer me. Where’ve you been? I’ve been looking for you. I know you were at your mate’s house when I came round. I know you saw what I did to her brother. None of that would’ve happened if you’d just come out and talked to me.’

  Emma looked up and down the street. If she thought anyone was going to interfere she had another think coming. People knew better than to bother him.

  Lucas ducked his head, trying to force her to look him in the eye. He knew wh
at she’d done. He just wanted her to say it. He pressed himself harder into her.

  ‘Stop it,’ she said.

  Lucas grabbed her by the throat and shoved her into the wall. ‘I know what you did,’ he said and watched her eyes fill up. ‘I know you went behind my back, Emma. Got rid of it.’ She tried to shake her head but his grip was too tight. ‘I know what you did and you’re going to pay for it.’ The tears were really coming now. He could feel them, hot and wet, trickling onto his hand. ‘You think you can do that without telling me and get away with it?’ He punched her in the stomach and she crumpled. ‘I don’t think so, Em.’

  He started to pull her up. ‘You think you’ve had it bad up to now. You haven’t seen nothing, darling. Better keep your eyes open, Em, or else you and your daddy are gonna both be sorry.’

  The door to the bookies opened and a group of disappointed punters streamed out. One broke away from the gang and stopped to light a fag. ‘All right, Lucas,’ he said.

  Lucas pulled Emma towards him, his hand around her neck. ‘You better watch out, Emma, ’cause you and your fucking poof of a mate are both dead.’

  Emma wriggled out of his grasp as Mikey approached him. ‘I’ll be seeing you,’ he said and let her go.

  As Mikey started spouting off about losing all his giro in one go, Lucas tried to control himself. His blood was boiling. He looked over his shoulder as Emma ran down the street.

  He’d see her later. She could bet on it.

  Chapter 55

  16 December 2010

  Louise walked into the house, glad to be out of the cold. She closed the door behind her and stood for a moment, thinking the place was too quiet without Adam. Without him coming to the door to greet her. Maybe she should get used to it.

  She’d been out, walking around for hours. She couldn’t bear being in there. Alone with her thoughts. It was driving her crazy. Every time she heard a car outside, every time she saw a shadow, she thought it was the police. Thought they’d figured it out. What she’d done. She couldn’t take it any more. She’d considered leaving. Just disappearing. Becoming someone new. Someone without a past. But she knew she couldn’t leave Adam. He was the best thing in her life. The only thing in her life. She could be a real person with him, a different person. Almost.