Missing

by Jay Nadal

  Scott loved the idea, and envied Abby’s opportunity to have a family night in. He groaned inwardly not wishing to spoil Abby’s enthusiasm.

  “I’d love to, but I’m meeting Cara for dinner tonight. How about another time? And I’ll shout you a load of Domino pizzas? All kids love a Domino.” He laughed.

  It was Abby’s turn to groan now. “That sounds so much easier than making them. But the kids are excited and that’s the main thing.”

  Casa Don Carlos was a small Spanish restaurant tucked away deep in The Lanes. The family-friendly restaurant was full and buzzing by the time Scott arrived. It was a great venue that offered an authentic tapas menu that felt like you were in Spain. Many of the locals were repeat customers who swore that it was some of the best tapas outside Barcelona and beat a lot within that city.

  With great food, and even better service, it was a favourite with Scott. Cara sat in the corner, working her way through a large glass of white wine when she spotted Scott striding towards her. She greeted him with a slow smile that suggested it wasn’t her first glass either.

  “Sorry I’m late, lover. I needed to finish the briefing. It looks like you started without me?” He hinted, flicking his head towards the half-empty wine bottle.

  “Hmm, probably. It’s going down a little too easy, so we need some food before I fall off this chair,” she slurred.

  Scott took a few moments to kiss Cara softly on the lips. Her eyes captivated and pulled him in, hungry to explore his mouth further. They were a deep, earthy brown – the colour of the earth after torrential rains. But there was something else in them, something glistening. They shimmered like old copper pennies being examined under a light. Cara exuded a warmth and magnetism that swallowed Scott’s attention.

  Dressed in skin-tight denim jeans, knee-length black boots, and a thin jumper, Cara’s form about knocked him over and he thanked the universe for bringing her into his life.

  “Did I tell you that I love you?” he whispered.

  Cara rolled her eyes and appeared to think it through. She kept him waiting a few moments. “I think you may have done occasionally. And I love you just as much. But can we order some food?”

  “You and your food. I thought I was bad, but you’re terrible.”

  They ordered paella for two, deep-fried whitebait, grilled squid, chickpeas with spinach, Spanish sausage cooked in wine, grilled prawns and home-made chicken and Serrano ham croquettes.

  Tonight, was about relaxing and enjoying each other’s company, and the restaurant was the perfect setting for that. It carried the Spanish vibes of being relaxed, and laid-back. No one was in a hurry to leave, nor was anyone in a hurry to be served. It was the perfect place to unwind after a few hectic days.

  Both had decided not to talk about work for a change, so Scott didn’t mention how his current investigation was proceeding, and how the lack of progress frustrated him. Cara in return hadn’t touched on her work following a house fire, and some suspicious deaths. They could talk about those another day.

  “I think your eyes are bigger than your belly,” Cara said, as she scanned the tapas plates that took up every square inch of the table. She had left the whitebait and grilled squid to Scott. Having tried squid before, she had decided that it tasted of nothing more than a glorified rubber band. Instead, she enjoyed the prawns and chicken croquettes, and tucked into their paella.

  A break from work was the tonic they both needed. Tonight, their jobs faded into the background. They were nothing more than a normal couple, like so many others who enjoyed a warm, romantic meal together.

  Two hours later, they left the restaurant. The cold onshore breeze blew right through Cara’s sweater and she bowed her head to one side, closing her lashes weighed down with mascara, to keep out the salty sting. The chill of the night air cut through through her skinny jeans as she pulled in closer to Scott. Her hair fell loose about her face, tousled, and tangled.

  Moisture clung heavy in the air, the likelihood of rain closed in on them, as they quickened their pace and headed for the car park.

  21

  Her cries went unnoticed, her pleas unheard.

  No doors.

  No windows.

  No way out.

  Every minute felt like hours. She could hear a clock tick close by, so with effort, she opened her weary eyes and saw nothing. Darkness enveloped her, trapping her in a cocoon of hell. Maybe she had imagined the clock, but its echoes penetrated the stillness of the air.

  Looking around, she could see an indefinite expansion of pure dark space. No light. No shadows. Only different shades of blackness. Though there appeared to be nothing but open space around her, she felt the feeling of suffocation, like her lungs caving in. She was trapped, imprisoned in her own mind. She moved nothing but her eyes, her mind racing whilst every muscle stayed still.

  There was nothing for company other than her heartbeat and rancid breath. Even the smell of her piss and shit blended into the stale pungent smells that clung in the air. Every time she so much as shifted, the wire screeched, the shrill cutting into her. Her skin was sickly; pallid and stretched over her stark bones. She hadn’t eaten or drunk much for a week, maybe longer, she couldn’t be certain. Her feet were bare and grubby, and all she wore over her frail body was a set of ragged robes soiled in her own bodily waste.

  She’d never felt so alone.

  Fear became replaced by tiredness, weakness and surrender. Desperate to be heard, she cried out once more, but nothing other than a faint whisper escaped from her dry throat. Sadness welled deep within and she cried, but no tears fell. She had nothing left.

  Rats scurried around beneath her feet. Once scared of them, they now offered a perverse comfort in knowing she wasn’t alone.

  The cold of the winter’s night didn’t penetrate this deep. The small gas heater had lost its warm, orange glow hours ago, but heat remained, stroking her clammy skin.

  He’s never let the gas run out before, she thought. Will it make any difference if he comes? He’ll only offer a few scraps of food and some Ribena, things my body rejects. Why I don’t know? Why me? How long will he keep me here? Why is he keeping me here? Someone must be looking for me by now?

  Her mind spun. Her eye’s felt heavy once again, and the feeling of hunger had left her. She succumbed to tiredness once again.

  Thursday night was the start of the weekend for many, and this week was no different. The pub was busy. A cacophony of noise reverberated around him, multiple conversations of which he grabbed snippets. One man moaned to his friend about being given extra shifts at work, another group discussed holiday locations for the summer, and others murmured quietly whilst sipping their pints.

  He had been to this pub three times already, so was glad it was busy tonight. It was smaller than the others that he had been to, which meant there was a greater risk of being spotted. He never went to the same pub more than once every few weeks. He didn’t want to be spotted as a regular, nor did he want to become a familiar face that customers and bar staff recognised. Dipping in and out of pubs meant he remained invisible. He would order a pint, and then melt into the crowd before bar staff had a good opportunity to take in his features.

  He liked this pub. The barmaid was just as he had remembered on his last visit. She looked much better than her profile pictures. They had exchanged pleasantries online; the conversations becoming risqué as they exchanged photographs. He knew what she was hiding beneath her skinny jeans, white Converse trainers, and a simple long white long-sleeved T-shirt. Oh yes, he loved what she hid beneath her clothes.

  The pictures had blown his mind. Just thinking about them made him erect. A pierced bar went through each nipple, and a ring went through her pierced clitoral hood. She was filthy. He smiled to himself as he imagined men choking on their pints if they knew that the woman they were having a cheeky banter with across the bar was a filthy whore.

  Luckily, she hadn’t recognised him. He had chosen another member of the staff to ser
ve him, which allowed him to watch her from a discreet distance. He loved her European accent. She had come to Brighton from a place called Prienai in Lithuania seven months ago. It had been part of her travels, as she’d moved through Poland, Germany, France, Belgium, and the Netherlands. She had spoken about wanting to experience life, and how there were very few people, and men, where she lived. But she enjoyed fucking men, and borrowing money off them, with no intention of paying it back. She was just a whore who exploited a man’s weakness.

  No one will miss her, he thought. She had moved around so much that it was unlikely that anyone could have kept track of her. She had told him that her father passed away some time ago, and that her mother brought her up. Her mother was a disciplinarian, but Katrina was a rebel. Like water and oil, they didn’t mix.

  Katrina was just another migrant, working in various pubs and restaurants to fund her travels. She had already spoken about leaving in a few weeks, her destination, Greece. If he didn’t act now, he would lose her.

  He faced a dilemma; he needed to get rid of Emma first. She had been a waste of time. She had promised so much and delivered so little. It had incensed him; she talked the talk, but she was a tease. She needed to be punished for that. He hated women taking advantage of him, always had. Emma had let him down. Now he needed to figure a way of getting rid of her. His efforts to conceal the last body had only bought him limited time. If he was to conceal his tracks, he would need to find a better way of stashing the body.

  Perhaps burying them in a deeper pit would work better? But that would require more effort, and the longer I hang around, the more chance I have of being discovered. There are no lakes close by and dumping a body in the sea is a definite no-no, because the tide would pull them back in again. Decisions, decisions. His mind raced as he considered his options.

  Her mind edged between surrender and fear. Her thoughts spun like a vortex, moments of grey blended with white noise that rushed through her. They wore down her senses. Her awareness weakened. If she clung on tight enough, she could rest on the narrow crescent platform, as sleep and fatigue willed her to rest. But the cable tied around her neck cut into her red, bleeding skin. Each movement stung like lemon juice in her wounds.

  Her body started the slow process of shutting down, the body’s natural attempts at self-preservation, robbing her of her senses. She’d lost count of the times she’d jolted in her sleep as her body rolled perilously close to the edge of the platform and the sheer drop beyond.

  Why hasn’t he come today? I’m getting cold again.

  22

  A muffled groan emanated from beneath the bedcovers. Scott peered over the top as if he was hiding from someone. Officially, it was his rest day, but a call had been arranged with Cardiff police to discuss their cold case. The clock said six-thirty a.m., his body suggested it was earlier.

  Cara’s warm body stayed entwined beneath the covers, as Scott curled in behind and wrapped his arms around her. She wiggled as his chest hair tickled her. He buried his face into her neck. His body twitched in response.

  “I need to get up, babes. I need to head in. I’ve got an important call to make.”

  Cara pulled his arms in closer to her, a silent response to his words.

  “I know. I’m sorry; I’ll be back as quick as I can.” It wasn’t the exact truth, but he didn’t want to upset her further.

  “It’s your day off. Abby’s in. Can’t she take care of it?”

  “Yes, but…”

  Cara interrupted, “Well then, let her handle it. I took the day off to spend it with you. I thought we could stay in bed most of the morning and then grab a late lunch. I promise, you’ll have worked up a hunger by then.” She twisted her hand behind her body and grabbed his groin.

  “Will you stop it? You always want it. Anyone would think you’ve been a nun for most of your life and now you need to make up for lost time!”

  “What can I say,” she purred. “You’ve awoken something in me. I’ve never felt so alive and sexy in my life.”

  “Glad I could help.”

  Scott peeled himself away and padded through the chill of the morning before grabbing a shower and leaving Cara asleep.

  With the team busy following up leads and double-checking witness statements, there was little else Scott could do to progress the case. They didn’t have a firm suspect. DNA results were taking longer than expected, and he had a local councillor looking for answers that Scott couldn’t give him.

  Scott had called DI Eddie Hanlon from Cardiff CID thirty minutes ago, but Hanlon was tied up in a meeting and would return Scott’s call as soon as he was free. In the meantime, Scott reviewed the notes on the system. The description of the man outside The Greys Pub intrigued him. As part of an investigation, Scott would always turn the spotlight on friends and family first.

  The problem was Linda had many men in her in life. Richards, Dalca, a married man, her date, plus many unknowns from the adult contact sites.

  Scott’s mobile interrupted his thoughts.

  “DI Eddie Hanlon here, sorry for not being available when you called. I understand you want to talk about a cold case of ours?”

  “That’s fine. We need your thoughts on a case we’re dealing with now.”

  “Yes, so I gather. It sounds like a meaty one. Rather you than me,” Hanlon joked.

  “Yes, I don’t envy us at the moment. Anyway, other than what’s in the case file for your stranger rape murder, is there anything else you can think of that might help us?” Scott continued, adding his thoughts about the two cases being connected and the lack of leads in both cases.

  There was a lengthy pause followed by a sigh. “Well, it’s not uncommon to come across a stranger rape, but very few lead to a murder. That’s the bit we focused on. It carried the same hallmarks as your case. Daisy Callaghan used a couple of online adult apps to make friends, and to see if any of those would become more than just friends.”

  “And how did that work out?”

  “We recovered her phone, and there were messages from men who had contacted her, and a few women, to be honest. We traced quite a few who had contacted her by text and WhatsApp using their own mobiles. It eliminated them from our investigations. There were five we could not trace. Two were pay-as-you-go numbers, the others were email addresses. We traced IP addresses, but they led to public places, like coffee shops and high street stores. Anyone standing in proximity to those locations could tap into free Wi-Fi networks.”

  “It sounds like your case hit the same barriers as ours.”

  Hanlon didn’t agree or disagree. “We had one line of enquiry based on one of those pay-as-you-go numbers that offered potential. Daisy exchanged several messages with an unknown male. They had deleted the earlier conversations because there were only two messages from Daisy, but it was clear they had prior contact.”

  Hanlon carried on describing how Daisy had sent a message saying, “I really enjoyed our evening last night, my head is still pounding this morning. When will I see you again?” To which the unknown male had replied, “I’m not sure. I’m not over that way. I was only there for the weekend. Maybe I can come over and see you in a few weeks’ time?” Daisy’s reply to that had been, “Okay.”

  Scott rolled a pen through his fingers, desperate to pick up on anything of interest. “What about her movements in the weeks prior to her death?”

  “We covered that, too. I think most of it is in the report. We did an extensive trawl of CCTV. We found her at several locations in and around Cardiff Central. The Great Western and the Prince of Wales. Both are Wetherspoon pubs. She was seen at local clubs and other bars. She was a creature of habit.”

  “Anything stand out?” Scott asked as Abby poked her head around his door, and Scott gestured silently for her to grab a seat opposite him as he put on his phone on loudspeaker.

  “We picked up on some pub CCTV footage. She talked to a few people. Some footage is grainy, so we went back to those pubs frequently over the cou
rse of a few weeks, and the persistence paid off. We tracked down several of the people she’d spoken to. Again, nothing untoward and I eliminated them from the investigation. To be honest, it’s hard to trawl through the footage. We have so many hen parties and stag parties that travel from all over the country. They roam the streets at weekends. The perp could have been a local or someone from out-of-town.”

  The enormity of the investigation sent shivers through Scott as Abby tutted.

  “Have you had any other similar cases since then?”

  “Nope. Nothing matching that MO.”

  The conversation had offered nothing new regarding his current investigation, but it had shed light on the circumstances and background surrounding the death of Daisy Callaghan.

  “I can tell you’re disappointed,” Abby commented as she stepped out of the car.

  “That obvious?”

  “That you said fuck all in the car, and how your lips moved silently as if you were talking to yourself, gave it away.”

  “You don’t miss a thing, do you?”

  “I’ve learnt from the best.” She winked in reply as she opened the door and stepped through to reception.

  Box K4 Software Solutions was situated on the Hyde Business Park, towards the north-east of town, skirted on three sides by open land and forest. With nothing other than the odd delivery van, and a passing car, it was in marked contrast to the hustle and bustle of the city centre.

  Scott hoped that the visit would open the case and present a different perspective on Linda’s life. Aluna Yafai was her closest friend at Box K4. But before he approached her, he needed to build a picture of the company and the key players. Scott hoped Aluna might know who Richards had found in bed with Linda, as well as provide insight into her private life.