Missing

by Jay Nadal

  Scott nodded at Raj’s suggestion. And from there, it would have been easy for Richards to have bundled her into his car.

  “Abby, get a warrant for Richards’s arrest, and a search of his apartment. And make it quick,” Scott ordered.

  Abby spun in her chair and grabbed her phone in one deft move.

  “Mike, put SOCO on standby. Arrange for a dog handler, because Richards has a Staffordshire bull terrier, and get the tactical entry team to meet us at his property. We need to find him, and fast.”

  The team jumped to their feet, grabbing jackets, and utility belts. A buzz of excitement rippled through them. Investigating a crime was a large part of their job, but catching the perp was why they put in the time, effort, and energy.

  Scott had known that Richards was their key suspect, but he’d needed to be patient to gather the evidence to confirm his hunch.

  The team had drawn attention as they arrived. Curtains twitched in surrounding properties. The odd neighbour found a pressing need to retrieve something from their car, anything, so it would give them a clearer vantage point. Nosey neighbours were a hazard of the job.

  With two unmarked cars, a police carrier with eight officers, a local dog unit, and a white scientific services van at the tail, the law enforcement convoy was anything but discreet. Everyone piled out and gathered around Scott for final instructions before they dispersed and took up positions.

  With the hallway outside Richards’s apartment crammed with officers, and several others positioned outside covering the perimeter, Scott hammered on the door several times, and announced himself. He placed his ear to the wood to pick up on any sounds. After several minutes and repeated attempts, Scott gave the nod, and a large uniformed officer dressed in protective body armour stepped forward. He held the red key, used by the tactical entry team to gain access to properties. He drew it back before thrusting it forward towards a lock in the door. The door shook in its frame but held firm. The surrounding walls rumbled from the shock waves. The officer pulled back and attempted re-entry several times, before the door relented and flew back crashing against the wall. Fragments of wood splintered, and the projectiles scattered in all directions.

  “Police stay where you are. Police!” shouted the first few officers that piled through the door, protected by heavy-duty gloves, shields, and reinforced overalls. The dog handler followed in behind them, a dog pole in one hand, followed by another uniformed officer with a fire extinguisher.

  With the dog controlled and removed from the apartment, officers began their search of the property. It was just as untidy, smelly and neglected as their first visit. It disappointed Scott to not find Richards. For a Monday morning, he’d hoped Richards would be fast asleep nursing a hangover from the night before. With him out of the way, they could take the place apart.

  The mobile phones Scott had seen on their previous visit hadn’t moved, and they were the first things to be bagged up in clear evidence bags.

  “Guv, over here,” Mike shouted from the kitchen. Scott walked through to find Mike holding several clear plastic bags, and duct tape. “Could be the same as those used on Linda.”

  “Possibly. Leave them on the table and let SOCO have a look.”

  Scott walked around the property; he peered into cupboards, pulled out drawers, and looked behind sofas. There was nothing to begin with that linked him to the crime, but an officer discovered a folded piece of paper tucked away in a jacket buried deep in his cupboard. Information on the paper suggested they had hit the jackpot. It was a list of female names, with their online usernames written in brackets. To anyone, it could have been a random list of names, but what piqued Scott’s interest was the fact that Linda Allen’s name was on it together with the username she’d used on the adult contact sites. This was the second crucial piece of information tying Richards to the murder of Linda Allen.

  Scott, Abby and Mike congregated in the lounge, whilst officers busied themselves going through Richards’s clothes, looking under rugs, and examining everything that might link him to the crime. Richards’s car keys had been found, and an officer sent outside to locate it.

  “It will be worth checking those names against the mis per list,” Abby remarked as she looked around the room.

  Scott agreed. He checked for was Rebecca Levy. Thankfully her name wasn’t on there, but that didn’t rule Richards out from being involved in her disappearance. The list could have been compiled after Rebecca’s disappearance, the list could be incomplete, or he may have deliberately left her name off the list.

  It was whilst Abby glanced around the room, that she stopped, her thoughts whirring. Then it hit like a steam train. The thing she couldn’t remember earlier. She moved swiftly across to a series of photo frames she had cast an eye over on their last visit. She scanned each one, before grabbing one, a picture of Richards standing amongst others, their pint glasses raised in the air. It wasn’t the picture that interested Abby, but the date stamp in the bottom right-hand corner.

  She pulled the photo in closer. “I knew it. Fucking knew it.” She walked back over to Mike and Scott and held it out for them to see.

  “The day that Daisy Callaghan was murdered.” Scott raised a brow and glanced in Abby’s direction, who nodded furiously.

  “We’ve got DNA evidence linking him to her murder, and we’ve got photographic evidence to prove he was in Cardiff that night…on a stag weekend.”

  33

  The search of the apartment had continued into the evening. Further evidence had been bagged up, documented and transported to the station for closer examination. The occasional neighbour had stopped to ask the uniformed officer on guard what had happened but received nothing more than a cursory dismissal.

  Whilst forensics picked their way through the evidence at the scene, it had given Scott, Abby and Mike the chance to grab a light bite nearby.

  “I’m bloody famished,” Mike protested as he tried to squeeze half a sandwich into his mouth.

  “You can be so flipping gross sometimes, Mike,” Abby said. She turned to look the opposite way as she ate her own.

  “Well, we’re tight on time, so I may as well eat as much as I can in case we don’t get home till late.”

  “I’ve got no problem with that. But when the Guv said eat as much as you can, he didn’t mean in one mouthful, you prat.”

  Mike tutted. “At least I eat. You live on bowls of cereal. And when you push out the boat and have something half decent, you have a bloody boiled egg for lunch. And nothing else. What’s all that about?”

  Abby took the bait every time Mike teased her. “You can be such a dick sometimes. What I eat is none of your business.”

  “They should arrest you for crimes against food. Wilful neglect of food.”

  Abby scrunched up a napkin and threw it in Mike’s face.

  “Will you two kids behave yourself, or you both get detention, or in our case, the late shift!” Scott interrupted.

  The two stared each other down, neither wishing to look away.

  “Our main concern is to find Richards. The uniformed patrols are scouring the streets, checking the local pubs, and tracking down all his known associates.”

  “Do you think he’s gone to ground?” Mike asked.

  “I hope not. But I’d much rather prefer that option, than know he’s with another victim.”

  The thought silenced the three.

  Back in CID, the team gathered following further developments at the apartment.

  “They’ve located Richards’s car. Forensics are poring over it downstairs. The search team found an unidentified key on his fob. We believe it’s the type of key that might fit a lock on a safe deposit box, but they found none.”

  “Could it be stashed elsewhere?”

  “Maybe, Raj. He did the odd gardening job, but no gardening tools were discovered at his apartment or in his car. There was a pair of muddy boots in a carrier bag in the boot of his car.”

  “So that means he used
his customer’s tools?”

  “Doubt that,” Abby interrupted. “I can’t imagine any gardener turning up at a job without their own tools…”

  “A lock-up?” Raj speculated.

  “It would fit the type of key. Get in touch with the council and find out which garage units they rent out close to the station.”

  Raj glanced at his watch. “Guv, it’s gone seven p.m. I doubt anyone’s around.”

  “Raj, use your nous. They’ll have a twenty-four-hour emergency line. Phone around and tell whoever you speak to that we’re in the middle of a murder investigation.”

  Raj nodded sheepishly as he spun in his chair and searched online for a number.

  “The search team have uncovered evidence that might be crucial for our investigation, and other mis per cases. They discovered a small silver necklace in the pocket of a pair of jeans. There might be a hair fibre caught in the links,” Scott continued as he reviewed his notes. “And they also found underwear hidden in a carrier bag in the cupboard under the sink. Namely, two pairs of female knickers, a bra, oh, and a denim skirt.”

  The extent of the find wasn’t lost on the team. If Richards’s DNA was found on those items, then it pointed to the possibility that Richards was a serial rapist and murderer.

  Abby turned towards Helen. “Can you phone Claire Allen? It’s a bit of a long shot, but considering Richards was once her son-in-law, she may know of places where he hung out, or know of other friends and associates that we may not know of already.”

  Scott nodded in agreement. They had to exhaust every avenue of enquiry. He left the team to carry on, whilst he went in search of Meadows. Scott knew it was easier to find Meadows than have Meadows track him down in his brash, and often aggressive manner.

  Meadows shifted paperwork around his desk, and tidied it into neat piles, where all the corners matched up, and they sat angular with everything else on his desk. He was one of those people who forever extolled the virtues that a tidy desk equalled a tidy mind. Meadows preferred everything to be perfect before he left every evening. He would push his chair under the desk and pull his window blind up or down, but never in between. His wastepaper basket would be by his door, ready for the evening cleaner, and any folders or reference books used during the day, would be returned to their rightful place.

  Scott tapped on the open door twice and hovered in the doorway.

  “Ah, Scott, I was looking for you earlier.”

  Scott doubted that. He had been in for a while now and hadn’t seen Meadows.

  “It looks like we’ve got our man, from what I’m hearing?”

  Scott nodded. “It looks like that, Sir. On the face of it, we have enough evidence linking him to the rape and murder of two women. The Cardiff boys will be pleased that their case has been solved, which is a bonus.”

  “And not so pleased that we’ve got the suspect and solved their case for them.” Meadows offered the slightest smile as the corner of his mouth lifted.

  “Well, we haven’t got him yet. He was gone when we executed a search warrant. We’ve got officers looking for him. If we move quick, I’m hoping for an arrest in the next twelve to twenty-four hours.”

  Meadows scrunched his eyes in displeasure. “Jesus, Scott, if we wait that long, he could be halfway across the country.”

  “That is a risk, Sir. But we have his car. I’m hoping that it slows him down. I’ve got an officer stationed outside his apartment in case he comes back.”

  Meadows stuffed papers into his briefcase, not wishing to stay later than he needed to. “Contact the media team, Scott. Get his face circulated in social media and the press this evening. That might smoke him out and force him into making a mistake. I suggest we put out the usual statement. Something like, ‘We are keen to speak to John Richards. We believe he may be able to help us in an ongoing investigation regarding the sexual assault and murder of a woman from Brighton a week ago. We advise the public not to approach him if seen, but to contact the police immediately.’ That should do it.”

  “I’ll get onto that right away, Sir.”

  Meadows rose and grabbed his suit jacket. “Good man. If there are any problems, then call me. But, only if it’s an emergency. I’m going to the theatre tonight, so I will have my phone on silent.”

  That was Meadows’s code for “he did not want to be disturbed.”

  The media team swung into action and within thirty minutes of Scott leaving Meadows, Richards’s face was splashed across the Facebook pages of the Brighton and Hove police, The Argus and BBC Sussex.

  With Raj and Helen covering the late shift, it was now a waiting game whilst the net closed in on Richards.

  Scott took the opportunity to spend quality time with Cara. He had neglected her recently and knew she felt the same way. He’d stopped at the Sainsbury’s to pick up a bunch of flowers. At that time of night, few places were open, so choice was limited. He hovered in the wine aisle, undecided on which bottle to pick. He must have picked up over a dozen bottles and studied the labels. The descriptions baffled him. He was anything but a wine connoisseur, bouquet this, floral that, buttery characteristics, cream-like textures. He shook his head in consternation. Flamboyant, toasty, charcoal, bright, rustic, complex, dense, earthy. It amused him to think someone sat in an office and was paid to come up with these descriptions.

  He chose a Chilean red wine. Cabernet Sauvignon. He recalled an elderly neighbour he once lived next to. A gentleman in his seventies, Jack had a full head of hair, white as snow, who only had Chilean red wine. Scott had popped in to check up on his elderly neighbour, as he did every week. Jack asked him to join in a glass. After that night, Scott had become a convert. It was the only red wine he would touch.

  He picked up a microwave meal to go alongside.

  Cara was at home, wrapped in her fluffy dressing gown, tucked into a corner of the sofa, with her feet tucked up underneath her, and a steaming mug of tea cradled in both hands.

  She glanced up as she heard the front door open and waited for Scott to come through. Her face lit up on seeing him.

  He bent over the back of the sofa and planted a soft kiss on her lips. “These are for you,” he said, placing the flowers in her lap.

  She cooed in delight. “You shouldn’t have. What’s the occasion?”

  “Do I need an occasion to buy my girlfriend some flowers and treat her to a bottle of wine?” he replied, holding up the bottle.

  “Of course not. They’re lovely, thank you.” She lifted the bunch and buried her nose in the petals and smelt the delicate scent.

  “I’ve bought dinner, too. I hope you haven’t eaten. It’s boeuf bourguignon, your favourite.”

  Cara got up and made her way around to Scott. Her feet padded lightly on the floor. “I feel underdressed,” she said, glancing down.

  Scott wrapped his arms around her waist. “You look beautiful as you are. Just perfect for dinner. Besides, it won’t be on for long,” he said, tugging on her collar.

  Cara noticed the glint in Scott’s eye. Her stomach flipped, and her heart fluttered. She ached inside for him. Just the sight of her man was enough to turn her on. As she headed to the kitchen, she couldn’t wait to get dinner out of the way.

  Scott grabbed her arm as she passed him. He pulled her in close, kissing her deeply. Their tongues explored each other; their bodies pressed together as one.

  “I know I’ve been busy at work. And I’m sorry if you’ve felt I’ve neglected you. But you’ve never been far from my thoughts. And even though I’ve not been around much, and maybe a bit distant, I would swap any of that, for moments like this.”

  Cara’s dark brown eyes gushed with love and happiness as she stared at Scott for what seemed an eternity. Their eyes explored, connected, and spoke silently. She pulled Scott in again and kissed him once more.

  34

  The low hum of vibration stirred him. It sounded much like a mosquito buzzing near his ear, or a bee inflight. Maybe he was dreaming, his subconscious
stirring, as he rolled over to break away from the noise. But it persisted. Gnawing away at his awareness.

  He rolled back the other way, his body becoming trapped in the duvet cover. And then somewhere deep within his mind, alarm bells rang, shaking him from a comatose state.

  One eye cracked open, somehow drawn to the light that flashed by his side of the bed.

  Shit!

  His body jerked as he swung his legs over the side of the bed and dragged his body to a seated position. He grabbed his phone as the buzzing grew louder.

  “Yesss…”

  “Guv, sorry to wake you, but we’ve had a report come in of an attempted abduction.”

  Scott rubbed his eyes. His mind somersaulted as he tried to draw himself back into the world of consciousness. “Details, Raj.”

  “Female aged twenty-seven. She was walking back from town and noticed a man following her. She sped up, and he did too. Whilst fumbling for her phone, she dropped it. In the end she ran for it, and he pursued her. The suspect caught her, pulled a carrier bag over her head, and tightened it around her throat. He proceeded to put his hand up her skirt and sexually assault her. He tried to haul off towards some parked cars. Luckily for her, she fought back. The assailant ran off.”

  “Description of the man?”

  “IC1 male. Medium height and overweight. A stubbly beard, with heavy jowls, and she said he smelt of fags. He didn’t try to hide his face.”

  “Are uniform on the ground?”

  “Yes, Guv. They’re doing a sweep of the area. The victim is in hospital being treated for minor injuries and shock.”

  “Where did the attack take place?”

  “Two streets away from The Greys Pub.”

  Scott was back in the office by three a.m. He sat with Raj and Helen, reviewing the incident report, a large, strong, black cup of coffee by his side as he wiped his bleary eyes.