Missing

by Jay Nadal

  Scott and Abby were led upstairs towards some carpeted offices at the back of the building. Stillness surrounded them. They were shown into an office with deep pile red carpet. A large transparent glass desk held two twenty-four-inch computer monitors fixed to one side, and a simple white keyboard occupying the centre of the desk.

  “Minimal to say the least,” Scott murmured as they stared at the desk. There were no filing trays, penholders, nothing to spoil the clean-cut lines. The rest of the room carried the same styling. A bookshelf to one corner had just a few books on each shelf, three prints occupied one wall, and a whiteboard occupied the other. They refused the receptionist’s offer of refreshments and were offered a seat.

  Minutes later a man in a grey suit, with an open-neck shirt strode in, extending his hand. “Sorry to keep you waiting. I’m Christopher Weatherford, managing director and owner of Box 4 Software Solutions.”

  Another man in a red checked open shirt and blue jeans accompanied Weatherford. He had tightly cut hair, and a stubbly beard, both of which had patches of grey. His face was long, with blue eyes that darted across the visitors.

  “This is Adam Hobday, he’s…”

  Before Weatherford could finish the introductions, Abby interrupted with a firm tone, “And what do you do here, Mr Hobday?”

  Hobday glanced between the officers and Weatherford, who was retrieving a folder from a shelf close by, a hint of annoyance on his face at being interrupted.

  “I…I’m a freelance IT software consultant specialising in Java applications with Spring Framework.”

  Abby paused for a moment and held his stare. Though she didn’t have a clue what any of that meant, she wouldn’t admit it. She glanced across at Scott and knew he was holding in a laugh.

  Scott introduced himself and Abby, before Weatherford took his seat across the table to them. Hobday took the file and hastily exited the room before he could be asked any further questions.

  Weatherford shifted in his leather chair. “Adam works on projects for us as a freelancer. We have a few we send out to client sites across the country, Glasgow, Cardiff, Leeds, London, that sort of thing. We don’t always have the expertise in-house, so rather than lose the business, we subcontract parts out. They do charge a fortune for what is a very lucrative career.”

  Scott remained silent.

  “I understand you’re investigating the death of one of our employees. We are deeply saddened by the news. It came as quite a shock.”

  His concern and upset were clear to Scott, as the man ran a hand through his immaculately combed hair. Weatherford had a distinctive dimple in his chin and cheeks when he smiled, both of which had been replaced with a solemn expression.

  “What does your business do?” Scott asked.

  It took a moment for Weatherford to compose himself again. “We design bespoke business applications, bespoke CRM systems, software, hardware integration, data migration, legacy software modernisation, and offer software consultancy, both in-house and through network of freelance consultants, Adam being one of them.”

  The description was lost on both Abby and Scott as they exchanged the briefest of glances. It was Abby’s turn to hide the smile.

  “Would Mr Hobday have known Linda?”

  “I’d imagine so. Most of our freelancers spend time here for meetings and so forth.”

  “We’ll need his contacts details then, as we need to speak to everyone who knew her.”

  “Of course, Inspector.”

  “What can you tell us about Linda?”

  “She was a bright, bubbly person. Always the first to laugh at a joke. She was hard-working, as you know she had two young children to look after. I imagine it wasn’t easy for her to juggle work and being a single parent.”

  Abby made notes as Scott led the questioning. She glanced up to see small trophies on one shelf. She couldn’t make out the inscriptions from where she was sitting, but they looked like industry awards of some sort.

  “Did you know much about her life outside of work?”

  Weatherford shook his head. “I’m only concerned about life outside of work if it affects their work.”

  “How about colleagues? Did she get on with many of them?”

  “She had a friendly word to say with everyone she came across in her work. I’ve not heard of her having a bad word to say about anyone. She was friendly with Aluna Yafai, who’s another technical support assistant. They sat near each other, so spent a lot of time together. And if I’m honest, they spent far too much time talking than working.”

  Scott told Weatherford that they’d like to speak to Aluna, and he obliged by calling through to his secretary to arrange it.

  “And where were you last Sunday evening, Mr Weatherford?”

  Weatherford was taken aback by Scott’s directness and stared open-mouth for a few seconds longer than he needed to.

  “Am I under suspicion or something?”

  “It depends if you have something to hide, Mr Weatherford. But it’s a standard question we ask of anyone who knew or met Linda regularly. What is more important to us, is accounting for the final hours and days whilst Linda was alive.” Scott’s tone was firm and sharp.

  Weatherford shrugged. “I was at home with my wife. You’re more than welcome to ask her.” He replied dryly.

  “And when was the last time you saw Linda?”

  “That would be Friday when she left work. You can check the electronic log if you want to. Every single employee, including me, must swipe in and swipe out. Linda would have left around five-thirty, but I can check that for you, and I left a little before nine.”

  “That’s late. Is it a common thing?”

  Weatherford nodded and shrugged a shoulder. “It is when you’re the managing director. It’s a very competitive industry we’re in, and if I could work seven days a week, I would. Though I doubt my wife would let me,” he joked.

  Scott nodded but offered no response. He was analysing the man’s facial characteristics and movements. Normally he’d look at Weatherford’s eye movements, to understand how he processed information. But on this occasion, Weatherford looked straight at Scott, only diverting his attention towards Abby to see what she was writing.

  “One line of enquiry that we are following up, is that she was involved with a married man…”

  Before Abby could finish, Weatherford sat up alarmed, holding his hands out in surrender. “Whoa, whoa, backup a sec. If you’re implying anything untoward, then you’re mistaken.” He shook his head in protest. “I’m married, not always happily, but nevertheless, married.”

  “I wasn’t implying anything, Mr Weatherford. I was merely asking whether you knew anything about it, maybe she was involved with another married employee within your company?”

  Weatherford offered nothing more than a shake of his head.

  Scott informed him that officers would be arriving this afternoon to interview members of staff, and that he would need details of those who were not in the office today. Weatherford said he would make space available to accommodate them.

  When Aluna Yafai arrived outside waiting to be seen, they concluded their interview with Mr Weatherford.

  23

  Weatherford led Aluna into his office and left to afford her some privacy.

  She was a slim, Anglo-African woman, with a pale brown complexion, and shoulder-length dark brown hair fashionably shaped in long ringlets. Her strong and angular features were offset by an attractive, blemish-free complexion that accentuated her youthfulness. She wore an off-the-shoulder T-shirt, jeans, and Converse trainers. Scott put her in her late twenties.

  Her welcoming smile soon became replaced by sadness, and sorrow that clouded her face. Her eyes welled as she brought her hand to her lips. “I understand you want to see me?”

  Scott nodded in Abby’s direction, suggesting that she take the lead.

  Abby leant forward on her elbows, softening her stance. “We are investigating the murder of Linda Allen. We u
nderstand from Mr Weatherford that you were close?”

  Aluna offered nothing more than a nod as she fought to compose herself. “I still can’t believe she’s gone. Why would anyone do that to her? She wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

  “We are looking at all aspects of her life, but it’s her personal life we are most interested in. I understand she was meeting men through online adult contact sites. Do you know much about that?”

  Aluna’s eyes widened. “Do you think it’s one of them?”

  “It seems a distinct possibility that whoever she met may have been responsible for her death. Do you know much about the people she contacted?”

  “Not much, to be honest. She put in the ads and attached some saucy photographs of herself. She was like that, extroverted with sex. It seemed to be her favourite topic, and whenever she met someone, and had it…She went into a lot of detail, if you know what I mean?”

  “Did she talk about the ads with anyone else? Perhaps someone at work that may have overheard your conversations?”

  Aluna shook her head. “Definitely not work. We used to whisper about it in the ladies, as you do. She swore me to secrecy.”

  “Are you sure no one else knew?”

  The woman thought for a few moments. “Jackie, her neighbour. That was only other person.”

  “Did she talk about the type of guys she contacted? Were any names mentioned?”

  Aluna was unable to elaborate on that point, other than Linda had been inundated with replies. Some were polite, others obscene, with pictures of men’s genitalia in various states of arousal.

  “Did it bother her?”

  “Oh, God no. If anything, it turned her on. I think she loved sex. She couldn’t get enough. I think we can safely say she had a high sex drive, and wasn’t the type to enjoy straightforward sex, but she needed money…”

  Abby narrowed her eyes. “Did she ever charge men for sex?”

  “Not as far as I know. But they’d spend their money when she was with them. And then there was him.”

  “Him?”

  “She had a brief relationship with someone, I’m not sure who, but she had Leo, and he gave her a lot of cash.”

  Abby glanced at Scott as more pieces of the jigsaw fell in place.

  The woman’s hands flew to her neck. “Oh shit, I swore I would tell no one.”

  “Are you telling us, that she had a relationship with someone who wanted her to have a baby, and in return he provided for her financially?”

  “No. She didn’t go into detail. Nor did I ask. The less I knew the better. As far as I know, he wasn’t interested in a long-term relationship with her. Unfortunately, it all went horribly wrong for her…”

  “Wrong?” Abby asked.

  Aluna nodded. “After Leo was born, she loved the baby too much. She couldn’t bear to give him up. Her mum knew all about it, and that’s why they stopped talking. She got her money, and she got to keep Leo. Whether the guy was pleased about that or not, I’m not sure.”

  The revelation came as a surprise for the officers.

  Abby sensed a breakthrough, an urgency in her tone. “Did she ever mention his name? Was he married, single?”

  “She never said.”

  “Could it have been an employee from here?”

  She shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine. It could have been from here, it could have been from someone she met online, it could have been someone she met in a bar.”

  Scott’s mind raced. Linda had hidden the identity of the father well. Her closest friends and family hadn’t been privy to the information.

  “Did she mention anything about the date last Sunday evening?”

  “She was excited, that’s for sure. He seemed to press the right buttons, and the conversation between them was racy. Linda felt they already knew each other. They seemed to connect. Linda had bought a new outfit, new underwear…. she was always prepared, and new shoes. Jackie would do her hair…She was going all out to impress him.”

  Scott and Abby were discussing the case over a sandwich in his office when the call came through. A member of Matt’s forensic team came through with the breakthrough they needed. Until this point, a lack of forensics had hampered his investigation, and they had had to resort to good old-fashion policing to progress the case.

  Scott’s eyes lit up as he listened to the feedback from the officer. “Are you absolutely sure? Okay, can you cross-check against the mouth swabs we’ve taken so far and update me?”

  Right before he hung up, a jolt of excitement surged through Scott.

  Abby shot an inquisitive stare as she wiped her mouth and put her Coke can down. “Well?”

  “Forensics has confirmed a DNA match between our case and Cardiff. I knew it.” Scott punched the air. “He’s done this before. The duct tape used to bind Linda came back negative. It contained her hair and skin fibres.”

  “Fuck, that’s brilliant. Any hits on the database?”

  Scott shook his head. “That would make it too easy for us. We still need to find him. We’ve taken samples from Richards, Dalca, and Weatherford so far. Forensics will cross-reference them. Do me a favour, update the rest of the team, and give DI Hanlon in Cardiff a call. I’ll update the DCI.”

  Her frail limp body had all but given up when light flooded the chamber. The shards of brilliance punctured her eyeballs like tiny needles. She squinted and turned her face from the source.

  Her body emaciated, weak and dirty, she resembled a destitute and homeless soul abandoned by society, robbed of life and love.

  He shone his torch on her face as he removed the steel cable from around her neck, her eyelids clamping tight to block out the worst of the pain. His hands caressed her body. He fondled her breasts, enjoying the sensation of rolling her nipples through his fingers. She jolted at the invasion, too weak to turn and fend him off. His touch repulsed her. Her mind fought to distract herself, wafting her consciousness off to a sunny beach where she could hear the sea lapping the shore, and children laughing as they splashed through the surf.

  She felt a hand creep in between her legs, violating her further; exploring in a way that a couple in love would explore one another. Every time he penetrated her, she cried, but found her throat too dry to make a sound.

  He smiled as he stepped away to retrieve a small bottle of water and a slice of bread from a carrier bag he brought with him. She took a few sips of the water. With her lips cracked, her mouth blistered, and her throat tinder dry, each drop felt like a large stone as she attempted to swallow.

  “You are such a disappointment. I thought you would be fun. You fucking teased me. The pictures you sent me were of someone else, you lying, filthy whore.”

  She shook her head. “Pleeease…Pleeease let me go. I…just…want…to…go…home.”

  “You haven’t got a fucking home. No one will miss you. No one is looking for you.”

  She pleaded again but was cut short as he launched a ferocious attack on her, punching her in the face. Speckles of blood erupted from her lips, the tiny winces of pain echoing around the chamber. He threw the empty carrier bag over her face and tightened it around her neck as he continued to pummel her. His venom, his wrath and anger spewed out with every punch.

  Her limp body collapsed in a heap on the platform. He removed the bag to see her bloodied and battered face. With one final glance, he stomped on her face, a sickening crack bouncing around the confined space.

  All the while, he became more aroused. He wasn’t sure whether it was from touching her or beating her. Whatever it was, he enjoyed the feeling and took great pleasure in relieving himself over her broken body before securing the cable around her neck and leaving her once again.

  His prized possessions had become the focus of his attention, gnawing away at him day and night like a rat chewing through cable. Whenever he closed his eyes, his thoughts drifted back to the special gifts he had hidden away.

  He’d promised his wife he wouldn’t do it again, but there was a mag
netic attraction that pulled him back every time. The buzz, the excitement, and the sordid pleasures he gained were like a drug. Addictive, consuming, and dangerous. He would often wait for Minu to be out or busy before he crept into the garage to entertain himself.

  The shoe and underwear excited him. Every time he took them out of the bag, he felt like a child unwrapping a birthday present. His eyes grew wide and excited, his heart pounded, and his groin twitched.

  Today was no different. As he wrapped the knickers around his cock, ecstasy washed through him. He clenched his jaw tight as he fantasised about the woman who had been wearing them.

  His wife had never been like this. She preferred straightforward sex, which left him wanting. He would spend many nights on porn websites long after she had gone to bed. The expectation had been there when they had met. The sex was good if a little straightforward, but she said the right things. She’d spoken frequently about wanting to try different things to please him.

  They had been nothing but empty words, spoken in the heat of the moment. They were married now. Apart from a flagging if non-existent sex life, their relationship was good. They got on well, had a good social life, and they supported each other. Talking about their sex life was something neither brought up, regarding it as a taboo subject.

  Wrapped up in his desires, he didn’t hear Minu creep up behind him. “You are fucking bastard!” she screamed. Her face contorted in anger and revulsion as she stared at her husband stood there with his clothes around his ankles, naked and embarrassed.

  His mouth dropped, but no words would come. She had caught him once like this before. On that occasion, she had threatened to throw him out. He had pleaded and begged for a second chance, fearful of how his family and community would react.

  On that occasion, the underwear had belonged to a married woman he had met through a dating site called Illicit Affairs. He had kept her soiled underwear as a souvenir.