Missing

by Jay Nadal

  Scott’s eyes narrowed. “Depends why you’re asking, Mr Levy.”

  “Please, call me David.” He hesitated for a moment, wrestling with thoughts and worries that tumbled through his mind, unsure whether he had the courage to continue or should leave the table. “It’s my daughter, well, one of my two daughters. Rebecca, she’s missing.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that. For how long she has been missing?”

  Levy shook his head, his eyes reflecting his agony. “Five years. Well five years and twenty-seven days, to be precise. I want to know more about how you go about locating a missing person?”

  “Without going into the specifics, as each case is different, we look at who’s missing, the circumstances surrounding their disappearance, last known movements, social media profiles, phone records, bank records, and whether they’ve taken anything like their passport or clothes. And then we often extend our search to speak to their friends for any clues that might suggest why they disappeared. And of course, there are other factors involved…”

  “Such as?” Levy interrupted.

  Scott paused for a moment. “We look at their medical records for any evidence of mental health issues, the vulnerability and risk profile of the missing person, their personal relationship, and whether they’d been in any harm recently.”

  “So rather complex then…” Levy considered the reply as he stroked his chin.

  Scott wondered about the man’s motives. If Rebecca had been missing five years, surely the list of investigative tactics had already been exhausted? “It can be. We do what we call a risk assessment of each case, and grade each one as high, medium or low risk, and assign resources accordingly. Some cases are resolved in a matter of hours, others, are…”

  Levy stared off into the distance. “Are never solved?”

  “Well…cases are left open.”

  “And that’s it? It becomes nothing more than a reference number.”

  Though it sounded a cold, Levy’s assessment paralleled the truth.

  “I think you need to understand, David, that thousands of people go missing every year. Over two hundred and fifty thousand people disappear or run away every year in the UK. And some leave for genuine and valid reasons.” Scott paused long enough to run a hand down his face. “In Sussex, we don’t have the resources to investigate every single missing person’s case. That’s why we undertake a risk assessment on each one. If they give us a cause for concern, and are not involved in a domestic violence, financial difficulties or relationship problems, then we will do our hardest to investigate them.”

  “Well, it’s none of those,” David replied abruptly.

  Scott shrugged a shoulder. “Well, not wishing to disagree with you, but we often find that those closest to them don’t know all the answers or the facts.”

  Levy shook his head defiantly. “She wouldn’t just up and leave. She’s had a good upbringing, a happy childhood, and was…is such a cheerful person.”

  There followed a brief silence as both sides weighed up their next reply.

  Levy’s eyes narrowed. “Would you arrest someone on suspicion?”

  “Not without evidence or accusation. And then we’d do a thorough search. But I’m assuming this was all done at the time of Rebecca’s disappearance?”

  Levy didn’t reply and gazed into the bottom of his glass.

  Scott leant in to make sure he was heard. “At the time did you feel that someone was involved?”

  Levy bowed his head in silence.

  “Did you report your concerns to the police?” Scott pushed.

  “No…” Levy sighed. “I didn’t, but I should have. Is there’s nothing further you can do?”

  Scott exchanged a glance with Cara who’d remained a silent spectator throughout.

  “Listen, why don’t you come into the station when you have a moment, and we can discuss it further, and I can take a fresh statement from you? This isn’t the right environment.”

  Levy nodded in agreement. “I’m sorry for bringing this up on an evening like this, and you’re off duty. My apologies.”

  “Nothing to apologise about. Just understand that if a full investigation had been undertaken five years ago and uncovered nothing, then I can’t promise we’ll find anything new. Sometimes a missing person is never found.”

  Levy tightened before saying, “Inspector, some hope is the only thing that keeps me going.”

  3

  Jackie Cartwright peered through the net curtains for what seemed the hundredth time. Weary and tired, she needed sleep. No sooner had she thought about creeping off to her bedroom than little Leo had woken, crying. That high-pitched, glass shattering type of cry that toddlers had mastered down to an art. Nature’s way of enabling kids to inflict enough torture on their elders to get whatever they wanted.

  I’d rather suck concrete through a straw than listen to Leo scream, she thought as she gritted her teeth through the din. It was so shrill, she thought her ears would rupture. “Well, it’s not going to work. He’s not my kid and I’m going to bed soon,” she muttered under her breath as she continued to rock him over her shoulder.

  She didn’t begrudge her friend, Linda, having a good time and had willingly agreed to babysit her children. Naïvely, she had expected it to be a quiet evening where she put the children to bed and settled in front of the TV with a cheap bottle of wine from the corner store.

  Jackie peered out once again through the window into the darkness of the street. At this time of night, it was nocturnal animals that roamed the streets. A veil of white mist crept through the air, and with the temperature dropping, she hoped Linda would be home soon.

  Their houses stood at the end of the cul-de-sac, Linda’s at ninety degrees to hers. From her window, Jackie could see no sign of life at her friend’s house. There was no car on the drive, and only blackness in the windows like the thick velvet curtains of the theatre.

  “You go for it girl; you must be having a good time. I bet you’ve gone back to his place for a good fucking.” Her laugh was drowned out by little Leo’s painful screams. “Yeah, yeah. I know you want your mum, but fuck it, she isn’t here. She’ll be back soon,” she added, rubbing his back.

  Linda had promised she wouldn’t be back late. But Jackie had heard that many times, and not seen her until the following morning, looking decidedly the worse for wear with a satisfied grin.

  Her thoughts turned to Leo and his big sister Shannon. Being lumbered with her friend’s kids at short notice had meant that she had nothing in for them. All she could offer for breakfast tomorrow morning would be cornflakes and milk, and that would have to do. She had things to do, places to be, and couldn’t hang around all day being a glorified babysitter.

  Leo’s cries softened as his exhausted body succumbed to sleep, his mouth hung open, drool dribbling from the corner, his head resting to one side on Jackie’s shoulder.

  Still no sign.

  She laid him down on the sofa and wrapped him in a blanket. With money tight, she couldn’t afford to put on the central heating for more than a few hours every evening. His plump red-cheeked face was hot to touch, his hands clammy and sweaty from his incessant crying.

  Jackie took a long slow gulp of chilled wine and felt it soothe her body and tight shoulders. Her nerves were frayed, her ears still ringing from Leo’s crying. They all had a tough life around here, single mums aplenty, jobs a few, they lived from week to week, not knowing where their next pay cheque would come from. For some like Linda, they had the security of a job in a local supermarket, or a call centre, where staff turnover was high, hours long and pay just enough to live on.

  She succumbed to sleep and the heaviness in her eyes.

  Her body shivered in the darkness of night, sending a violent chill down her spine. Light reached neither wall nor floor, confining her vision to a small circle of flickering orange cast by a battery-operated lamp. Inky black water sloshed around beneath her as the rats scurried through the tiny drainage channels
that criss-crossed in the darkness below her.

  With just a sleeping bag, and a few scraps of food, this had been her home for the past few hours, or perhaps longer, she couldn’t be sure. Unable to move, she perched precariously on the crescent-shaped metal ledge. A thick metal cable wrapped around her neck was secured to the bottom of some metal steps above her. There was nowhere she could go. She was unsure how far the shaft descended, and the bottom of the extendable steps was too high for her to reach.

  It smelt of damp and decay, and now she had added to it with her own bodily waste.

  Despite the cold, she felt the sweat drench her skin. Fear tortured her guts, churning her stomach into cramps. Fear engulfed her consciousness, knocking all other thoughts aside. Fear tightened her, she couldn’t breathe, it felt as if someone had their steely hands wrapped around her neck. Her heart raced, and all she wanted to do was curl up into a ball and wait for someone to save her.

  But no one would. Who would find her here?

  She would die in this godforsaken place. Alone.

  A choked cry for help forced itself up her throat, and she felt a teardrop run down her cheek.

  Desolation overcame her as she contemplated this cold, agonising end to her existence.

  4

  There’s a kind of tired that needed a good night’s sleep, and another that needed so much more. For Jackie, one became the other, like a heavy jacket that pulled hard on her shoulders.

  After her leaden eyes snapped open, the first thing she had done was to check her phone. No message, no missed call. She had then tried Linda’s number. A cheerful voicemail greeted her. For fuck’s sake. She dragged herself across to the window and glared across the road. There was still no movement. The lights were off; the curtains hadn’t moved, and Linda’s battered green Corsa was still missing from her drive.

  Bolts of anger fast replaced Jackie’s concern as her fingers curled tightly around her phone. There was a breaking point to her patience. A five-course, bitter serving of rage blinded her compassion. Being taken advantage of occasionally was fine, but this was becoming a regular occurrence. She had told Linda not to be back too late, and at least drop a text when she was on her way home. Perhaps her battery had run out of charge? But then she could have borrowed someone else’s in an emergency? It made no sense to Jackie and now she faced getting Linda’s elder one to school.

  Little Leo stirred. Shannon stumbled into the lounge, rubbing her eyes and yawning loudly as she padded across the laminate floor. “Where’s my mummy?”

  Jackie gritted her teeth in annoyance. She shouldn’t have to be dealing with this, and she had a good mind to drop the kids off at Linda’s doorstep as a punishment for fucking her around. “Mummy just had to pop out again, luv. I’m sure she won’t be long, how about I give you some cornflakes for breakfast?”

  Shannon didn’t answer and flopped down beside Leo, causing him to jerk awake, startled. “What time will Mummy be back?”

  Jackie cursed under her breath. She didn’t have answers for the kid, fearing she might regret a few choice words she could offer in reply. You better fucking turn up soon. They say men have their brains in their pants; Linda must’ve been a man in a former life.

  Shannon had her mum’s fiery personality. Independent, vocal, and inconsiderate. She was six going on fifteen. Jackie had witnessed Linda ask Shannon to do something, only for the little girl to turn and walk away, her arms folded, and head held high in defiance. She trod a fine line with her mum, forever testing her patience, firing one demand after another, and expecting Linda to run around after her.

  Jackie felt a good old fashion clip around the ear would bring her back in line. How Linda had the patience, she would never know. Perhaps that was why she had been so against having her own children. She had neither the patience, nor the maternal instinct.

  “I’m not going to school without Mummy,” Shannon scowled. “Mummy does my hair, and she stops by the sweet shop to buy me a packet of strawberry laces every morning. And then she buys me a packet of chocolate buttons when we come out of school.”

  “Well, Mummy isn’t here, and I’m not into bribery, so you’re going whether or not you like it.”

  Shannon stared at Jackie for a moment, uncertainty etched on her face, as her eyes narrowed. “What’s bre…brid…?”

  “Never you mind, young lady. When you’re with me, you have to listen to what I say.”

  Shannon pulled her knees into her chest, and flippantly kicked away at Leo’s feet in frustration, causing the young boy to cry.

  “I’m…not…going…to…school…without…Mummy.”

  Jackie scooped up Leo, and rested him against her shoulder, swaying from side to side to pacify the little boy, his shrill cry piercing her eardrums like a dentist’s drill. “There, there,” she offered as she rubbed his back. It hadn’t crossed her mind until that moment that she would need to find something to feed the boy for breakfast. She wasn’t sure if he needed baby milk, a jar of baby food, or baby cereal, none of which she had, and Linda had left none. Things were going from bad to worse, and Jackie was fast running out of options.

  “Suit yourself, you silly cow. You can sit here and wait until she comes home. Makes my job a lot easier. I’ll get you some breakfast, and you can sit quietly. Understand?”

  Small pockets of fog remained as he started his return leg back into town. He followed the same route four or five times a week which took approximately two hours to complete. Eight miles on the outward leg, and the same on the return leg. The going had been harder this morning, with isolated patches of fog, the traffic ahead of him halting every few miles.

  His specialised Allez E5 Elite Red Hook road bike held the road well, especially further up in the hills, where the roads were narrow, the bends tight, and two-way traffic a constant hazard. He relied heavily on his Shimano 105 twenty-two speed drivetrain and Tektro Axis Caliper Brakes, to give him the pace and the stopping power, a blessing in these wet and cold conditions.

  As he picked up speed on the descent, cold licked at his face and crept under his clothes, spreading across his skin like the lacy tide on a frigid winter beach. His thoughts turned towards home and a warm shower before heading off to work. The weather had turned against him in recent weeks, with icy roads, fog, rain, and an ever-increasing number of potholes.

  But there was something he enjoyed about being away from everyone. The freedom to explore and an opportunity to unburden his mind. Given the choice, he would much rather be on his road bike cycling around the Downs then at home. All he did at home was sit there whilst his wife watched StarPlus, and the Indian version of Britain’s Got Talent. He would much rather slope off to his garage to do other things.

  He leant into a bend and straightened, to see an obstruction in the road. As he slowed, it appeared to be nothing more than a discarded pile of rubbish, no doubt thrown from a passing car. He slowed when he spotted it.

  With his one-thousand-pound bike placed at the side, he stepped out into the road and glanced around before bending down to inspect the items. It appeared to be nothing more than a bag of discarded women’s clothes. A wet and muddy silver skirt lay strewn across the road, tyre marks imprinted on the metallic fabric. He pushed it to one side with the tip of his expensive road shoes before peering into the bag.

  For a moment time stood still as he fought to catch his breath, his heart hammering against his ribcage in excitement. He felt a twitch and a stirring in his cycle shorts as he reached in and pulled out a black patent high-heeled shoe. It was perfectly preserved, dry, untouched, unlike the other half of the pair, which was hidden beneath the bag, its heel broken, scratches tarnishing the mirror smooth surface, and surface water rain from the road muddying its complexion.

  He glanced around again, like a naughty schoolboy who had stolen an apple from an apple tree, scared that someone may discover him. His eyes widened with a mixture of intrigue and excitement as he walked back to his bike. He held the shoe and marvelled at
its design as his thoughts turned towards the owner and what she may have looked like tottering around in them. Small, feminine, with slender, long legs wrapped in that silver skirt that screamed take me. With the shoe’s peep-toe front, she no doubt had painted toenails, perfect after a pedicure.

  There were no beauty spots or lay-bys on his route, but he glanced around and wondered what she’d been doing up here. Was she passing through? Had she had a passionate night with her boyfriend and thrown her belongings out of the car for a dare?

  With eyes firmly fixed on his new discovery, his hands trembled as he peered inside the shoe. What he discovered sent waves of testosterone through his groin. He needed to get home and hide his new present. He put the shoe in a small rucksack he carried on his back, placing it with the same precision and care had it been a rare piece of China.

  He’d ride home more quickly than he ever had before.

  5

  The ache ebbed and flowed like a cold tide, yet the pain was always there. Either he’d consumed more than he realised or was getting too old to handle much alcohol. He understood at once why they called it a hangover, for it felt as if the blackest of clouds sat over his head with no intention of clearing until late afternoon.

  He squinted. With a dry mouth, sticky with thick saliva, he groaned before retreating under the duvet, much to Cara’s amusement. The hangover felt like a balloon under his cranium, slowly being inflated, the pressure mounting. Scott stumbled to the bathroom to splash cold water on his face just to feel something refreshing, and instantly wished he could wash his brain free of the toxins too. The mirror showed his eyes, no longer the bright and alert ones of last night, but now sporting a web of pink lattice lines over the white. Cara’s amusement drifted from the bed to the bathroom. If he’d been looking for sympathy from her, it had been in short supply this morning.