by Jay Nadal
“You need to come out with me, Guv,” Mike suggested. “A few sherbets last night would be nothing in comparison to what we’d knock back. That would be proper drinking.”
Scott could offer only the smallest of smiles as he finished the last sticky dregs of his third coffee. “You’re not far behind me, Mike; your days of drinking in the army are well behind you. I don’t think you would have fared much better.”
“You might think that Guv. But cast your mind back to the last pub quiz we went on. Correct me if I’m wrong, but you were drooling like a baby after your fourth pint.”
Scott ignored the dig, but he vaguely recalled parts of the inter-departmental annual pub quiz earlier in the year. If there was one thing Scott hated more than anything else, it was losing in a pub quiz, the loss harder to bear as they lost to their arch-rivals, Matt’s scientific services team.
“Frankly, I’m disappointed that you took Cara and not me. I would have put the council’s generosity to far better use. I’m sure I could have got away in a dress.”
The thought of seeing Mike, with his pot belly and a hairy chest, slopping around in a dress only caused Scott’s stomach to lurch.
“Well, there’s only three of us this morning. Raj is still off with the flu, but I spoke with him yesterday. It sounds like he’s at the tail end of it, so I expect him back soon. How are we doing with our current cases?”
Helen’s head popped up from behind her PC screen. “I’m following up an eyewitness account on the Moulsecoomb post office armed robbery. An elderly gentleman, who lives around the corner, has come forward to say that he saw an IC1 male running towards a navy Audi. The vehicle drove off in the direction of Hillside. He could only recall a partial index number, and can’t be certain of the Audi model, but he says it was big. I’m thinking A4, maybe even A6, but I think the A6 is too big and heavy as a getaway vehicle.”
“Do some preliminaries, but if you don’t get far, then park the case to one side. A partial index and a vague description will not get us far. You’d be better off dealing with the stranger rape. We’ve got a suspect, and the DNA samples we retrieved from the victim match Marc Abrahams. We need to find him.”
Helen flicked through her case file, looking for the information she needed. “We’ve only got a last known address for him in Preston Park. I’ve deployed officers to that location twice, but he hasn’t been seen for three weeks. I’ve looked at all his known associates, but I’ve hit the proverbial wall of silence. He’s lying low for sure.”
“Can we be certain he’s still in Brighton? Didn’t he have connections with South London, Nottingham and Coleraine?”
Helen nodded and shrugged a shoulder. “He does. My next action points are to reach out to local forces in those areas and get them to make enquiries. It’s a long shot, but it’s possible he’s scarpered.”
Scott asked Helen to keep him updated before pulling up a seat alongside Mike to go through his case files. With Mike being more experienced than Helen, he had more cases, many of which were complex.
As Helen progressed and grew in experience, Scott would ensure that Helen handled more difficult cases to improve her investigative skills base. It was something he had already decided upon following his chat with Abby.
With the difficulties Abby had experienced prior to going on annual leave, he had thought long and hard about how to facilitate her return, and what he could do to make her life easier. It wasn’t an ideal solution, but he had arranged for her to have a work laptop. This would allow flexibility in her shifts, and if necessary, to work from home.
Helen would work closely with Abby, so she could take on some of Abby’s workload, whilst under Abby’s close supervision. More importantly, it wasn’t about taking Abby’s workload, but about making her DCs better at their jobs, so less time would be spent supervising and poring over every detail of the jobs they were working on.
Mike took a few moments to give Scott a helicopter view over his current caseload. A violent drug dealer who failed to turn up in court, a spate of commercial burglaries in Hove with the same MO, and a suspicious death of an elderly woman in a care home. Scott went through each case with him, outlining points of interest, and suggesting further actions. Mike had covered most angles already, but Scott needed him to dig deeper for completeness.
Scott glanced at his watch and noticed that his scheduled meeting with Meadows had come and gone. By now Meadows would have charged onto the CID floor, tapping the glass face of his own watch to remind Scott. That he hadn’t surprised Scott. He’d noticed how Meadows had ended up on a table with some heavy drinkers, which he found ironic considering the nature of the event.
Meadows wasn’t much of a drinker, but had drunk far too much, paying the price for it this morning. He remembered seeing CC Lennon cast glaring looks in Meadows’s direction as the night wore on.
“I had a councillor, David Levy, approach me last night. He asked questions about his daughter. She disappeared over five years ago,” Scott said, rolling his eyes. “Do you remember the case? I don’t.”
“How many mis per cases do we get? Dozens. What’s her name?”
“Rebecca Levy.”
Mike tapped his keyboard and then scrolled through the information. He nodded when he found the case file in question.
“We dealt with it?”
“Yup. I remember it now. I dealt with it when I was in a different team. DI Harrington was the SIO.”
Scott recalled Harrington, who had moved to East Grinstead about two years ago.
“At first Levy wanted to keep it quiet. Probably because of his position on the council. I think he’s also big in the Jewish community and has an active role in the synagogue. At the time I think it worried him about what the community might say because he believed in family values.”
“And what was the outcome of the investigation?”
Mike scanned through the details on the screen. “We did a thorough job of trying to trace Rebecca. He might have been quiet out there about her disappearance, but he was very vocal with us.”
“Because?”
“Because he felt we weren’t doing enough to locate his daughter. He couldn’t believe she would just walk out one day and disappear. He was adamant she must’ve been caught on CCTV somewhere.”
Scott nodded. “And we’ve followed up all avenues?”
Mike didn’t look away from his screen as he relayed further details. They had spoken to friends and family, looked at her medical and banking records, analysed social media profiles, and scoured hundreds of hours of CCTV footage. Despite Levy’s reluctance, they had gone to a press appeal. Other than a few random and inconsequential leads, the appeal had had little impact.
“And what were her last known movements?”
“Well…Levy was prickly about this. But his wife said that Rebecca was going out to buy new outfit for a date that she had later in the evening. Mrs Levy assumed that she would head into town to do that. We searched hours of CCTV footage along Western Road, and we found nothing to suggest that she was in the area. It was extensive. CCTV footage from observation points along the road, and from inside shops. We looked at the main drag along Western Road, The Lanes, and even Hove. It’s like she disappeared into thin air.”
Scott rubbed his chin as his mind raced. “So, she was abducted soon after leaving home, or went to extreme measures not to be found?”
Mike shrugged, knowing both were definite possibilities. “The fact is we couldn’t find anything from her phone records or social media profiles to suggest that she had met anyone new. So, it only deepened the mystery, and our concerns further. At the time we weighed up so many possibilities. Whether she had come to harm? Whether she had had enough of life in general and had decided to pack her bags and leave, destination unknown, or had taken her own life?”
“And what was she like as a person?”
“The usual. Fun loving, liked to drink, going to parties. A typical twenty-three-year-old.”
“Was there anything missing from home?”
“Nope. There was a pair of high heels, and some red underwear, along with her make-up bag, left on her bed. Her mum assumed that they were in readiness for this date, and the outfit was the last thing she needed.”
“Any names thrown around?”
“No, Guv. Why?”
“I can’t put my finger on it, to be honest. I got the impression that her dad was holding back a little, and perhaps knew a little more than he was letting on.”
“Well, with no name, and no reasonable cause for concern, the case didn’t go anywhere. Levy didn’t like that at all. He felt that we weren’t doing enough to find out what happened to her. He was adamant she wouldn’t just up and leave. She had given no cause for concern in her behaviour before her disappearance.”
Scott considered the cold case. From the sounds of it, Harrington had done everything possible to locate Rebecca Levy. Whatever was going on in her life, it was clear her parents were unaware. And it was that lack of knowing that upset her father more than anything else. Most parents assumed that they knew their children well. In reality, Scott knew from experience that was rarely the case.
Mike rolled his brows as he flicked through further pages of notes. “Her medical records indicated that she had a termination at nineteen. It horrified the parents when we told them. There was no indication at the time as to the father’s identity. We even spoke to her friend, Lexi Freeman.”
“And what did Lexi have to say?”
“A happy girl. Sometimes a loner, and insecure, but with some drink inside her, was a bit of an exhibitionist, and as Lexi put it, a gobby cow.”
“Okay, Mike, thanks for that. I suggested that Mr Levy come in to talk to me, and perhaps we’ll look into the case once again. Though after what you’ve said, I doubt we can do much. I had to say something to pacify him. It sounds as if the initial investigation was thorough. I’d be surprised if we can uncover anything new after all these years.”
“We kept the file open longer than we needed to because of his position and then closed it. You’ve got more chance of finding a pube in a sandwich than you have of finding Rebecca Levy.”
Scott shook his head in disbelief as he headed off. Mike’s final words did nothing to soothe the waves of nausea that washed over him.
6
By lunchtime Jackie Cartwright was ready to scream the house down. Shannon had finished the last of the plain digestive biscuits, had moaned incessantly about the distinct lack of crisps, and missed her favourite fruit squash. Where possible Jackie had sat with Shannon, flicking through the kid’s channels trying to find something that would settle the girl and keep her occupied for a few hours.
Handling Shannon was the least of her worries. If there was one thing that Jackie hated more than anything else, it was nappies. Despite having changed Leo’s nappy occasionally, she had never got used to the wave of nausea that hit her every time she opened a soiled one. Her eyes would water, her stomach would heave, and bile would shoot to the back of her throat. She had taken to spraying perfume on a handkerchief and placing it over the lower half of her face, in much the same way that cowboys used to hide their faces in the old western films.
Things were getting serious. She was down to the last few nappies, a small tub of formula milk, and no spare clothes for the baby. She had tried Linda’s phone on the hour, every hour, since this morning. Greeted each time by voicemail. As each hour passed, her messages had gone from pleasant, through to concerned, to bordering on abusive.
Linda had not made contact. That niggled in the back of her mind. On past occasions where she had stayed out overnight, she would always send Jackie a text to update her.
If it carried on for much longer, she’d have to do something. What, she wasn’t sure. The last thing she wanted was to drop Linda in it with the authorities.
Heavy rain lashed Brighton. Traffic along the seafront had slowed to a crawl, drivers staring through windscreens pelted by droplets the size of penny pieces. Cold, driving rain, and black menacing clouds robbed Brighton of its zest, and cast a shadow of gloom over the town.
Rain lashed her lifeless body, pushing away the leaves and undergrowth thrown over her after she’d taken her last breath. Hour by hour, speckles of greyness sprouted from the dark earth, as her hand showed, then her arm, followed by her thigh, and her shoulder. Her reveal would be complete soon.
Councillor Levy looked like a drowned rat as he stood drenched in reception. His collapsible umbrella had offered little in protection as the weather battered Brighton. Sheets of horizontal rain swept unmercifully across town, soaking those foolish enough to brave it.
Scott stepped through the double doors to the left of reception and extended a hand to Levy. “Mr Levy, thank you for taking up my offer to come in. Let’s find somewhere warm where you can dry off.” Scott looked the man up and down. Levy’s wet trousers clung to his legs and the man’s rain jacket had rivulets of water dripping from it.
They settled into a quiet corner of the canteen and sipped steaming coffee. A few officers sat further away, engrossed on their phones or talking in quiet murmurs.
Levy wasted no time. “Did you look into my daughter’s case?” he asked bluntly.
The man’s directness was sharp and insistent. A marked contrast to his humbleness at the charity event.
“I have, Mr Levy. I’m more than happy to look into it further when we have the resources to do so, but from what I’ve reviewed, I believe that the case of your daughter’s disappearance was handled thoroughly and professionally. They took all reasonable steps, and all lines of enquiry were followed up meticulously.”
Levy stiffened and held Scott’s eye. “Inspector, it’s been over five years. My wife and I can’t accept that she just walked out and disappeared. There must be a fresh appeal for new information. Surely you can stretch to that?”
Scott leant back in his chair and weighed up his options. “Mr Levy are you sure that there’s nothing else you can tell me you may have forgotten to reveal, even if it appeared inconsequential at the time?”
Levy narrowed his gaze, a mix of surprise and annoyance clear. “Inspector don’t put this at my doorstep. The police have treated my daughter’s case with little due care and attention.”
Scott and Levy exchanged a volley of claims and counterclaims that on occasion threatened to develop into a full argument as Levy ignored Scott. Other officers turned occasionally as voices grew louder.
“Mr Levy, here’s what I suggest. We’ll update our missing persons records online and put out a request for any fresh information. If nothing is forthcoming, then we must accept that unless anything new comes up, the case will remain open.”
Levy wasn’t happy with the lack of action, but Scott’s suggestion appeared to placate the man, if just for the time being.
Scott stood by his window staring at the greyness beyond the glass. The rain slammed against the window, the noise creeping into his thoughts as he stared at the grey, scraggy clouds that rolled by. His thoughts turned to Levy’s plight and his reluctance to accept the fate of his daughter.
He felt sympathy for the man. No parent would willingly accept that their child had walked off or disappeared. Everyone had a reason to disappear…if it was intentional. Rebecca’s case could fall into either camp. She either chose not to be found, or someone had taken her against her will. All the evidence pointed to the former. The investigation had been thorough. There was no evidence to suggest otherwise. And yet, Levy refused to accept the police’s decision. Levy had been vociferous in his condemnation of how the case had been managed.
With a few weeks to Christmas, it carried sadness for many families and loved ones. Scott imagined most only had one wish. That the knock on the door, the letter, or the call to say their child was safe. He hated December. Scott’s mind drifted back to Becky helping him wrap her present to Mummy. Sellotape disasters galore. His face tightened as he glanced over his shoulder towards Be
cky’s picture on his desk. Happiness smiled back at him.
Scott softened and smiled. He’d brought Christmas cards for both Tina and Becky, and on his next visit, he’d be visiting with Cara who’d asked to come along to support him. He needed to get through Christmas and New Year.
Councillor Levy wouldn’t have that opportunity, but Scott had already reviewed the case and evidence, if for nothing else than closure for the Levy family.
He flicked off the office light and headed home.
7
Munch coffee shop didn’t have the same feel as Scott stirred his coffee, transfixed as the black darkness swirled around the spoon like a mini whirlpool in a muddied river. Greyness and damp hung in the air following the downpour of yesterday.
Scott couldn’t put his finger on it, but he felt out of sorts. With a moment’s silence away from the office, it gave him an opportunity to process his feelings. And for the first time in many months, he couldn’t find an explanation. He felt low and jaded. As if all the zing and motivation had leaked through his pores and sapped him of his drive.
His personal life was going well. Being with Cara had given him the opportunity to love again. To smile, laugh and feel wanted. So, he was certain it wasn’t that. His eyes narrowed, and his brow furrowed as he delved into the darkest recesses of his mind, searching for an answer.
Maybe it’s a midlife crisis?
He doubted that, but the thought caused him to reflect.
Perhaps it’s the job?
He’d been in Brighton for many years now, and it was too easy to get stuck in the monotony of routine.
But was now the time to start looking for a new post, and starting afresh elsewhere? A new patch? A new set of challenges?
That didn’t resonate with him either. He had a good team, a new relationship, and he knew Brighton well.
Were they excuses to avoid change?