Missing

by Jay Nadal

  The unpredictability of the job led to situations where being the senior officer, he would be called in at short notice, or on his rest days to deal with an ongoing situation.

  “Do you think it’s Richards?”

  Scott shrugged to begin with. “It would have been less likely had it been across town. It could be Richards, considering the location and the nature of the attack.”

  Helen agreed as she looked towards the incident board, and Richards’s smug grin staring back at her. With the attack taking place so close to where Linda Allen was last seen, it wasn’t uncommon for an assailant to return to an area they were familiar with. “The victim was on a night out with friends. The circumstances of the attack are different in relation to Linda’s abduction and murder. Could that suggest Richards is getting desperate?”

  “Desperate and dangerous.”

  “Do you want me to call in Mike and Abby?” Helen asked.

  “Call Mike in. Abby is not due in until ten a.m. Let her stick to that.” Scott had promised Abby a better work life balance. Although he needed her in, he would make do with the resources he had. The rest of the team were more than capable to progress the investigation.

  “I managed to get through to someone in the council regarding garages they rent out. It turns out they have close to one hundred sites across Brighton and Hove from Woodingdean in the east to Portslade in the west.”

  “All occupied?” Scott asked Raj.

  “Not all of them, Guv. Some are vacant, and others have a waiting list. None of the occupied garages tally with Richards’s name. So that leaves more than forty sites that still have space. That’s far too many for us to cover with the time that we have.”

  Scott walked around the CID floor weighing up his next move. Richards was out there, he knew it. He was a creature of habit, and if they linked tonight’s assault to him, then it confirmed suspicions that Richards was still in Brighton.

  “Any word on the street?”

  “We spoke to his known associates and we’ve contacted our informants. No one has seen him.”

  Scott turned towards Helen. “Did you get in touch with Claire Allen?”

  “I did. She didn’t know where he might be. And as she put it, ‘she couldn’t give a fuck where he was, hopefully in a body bag,’ so I think he’s off her Christmas card list.” Helen sighed.

  Scott knew they were running out of options. They needed to move fast. There were a few avenues they could follow. Scott grabbed the nearest chair and sat himself down beside Helen. “Get onto Richards’s mobile phone company. See if they can get a triangulation for us ASAP. If his phone is on, or been used recently, then that will help us narrow down the search area.”

  “I thought we retrieved several phones during the search of his apartment?”

  “We did. But that’s not to say he didn’t have more. Raj get back onto your contact at the council. Ask them to cross-reference Richards’s name with past records. Tell them it’s a matter of urgency.”

  Raj had already picked up the phone and was tapping in the numbers before Scott had finished his sentence.

  Scott needed DNA evidence from the assault victim which would have been obtained in the hospital. Scrapings would have been taken from beneath her nails, and her clothes would have been kept for evidence. But it would be hours before he received confirmation.

  The waiting game was a skill that every officer had to be familiar with. Whether it was waiting for a suspect to turn up at a location, or waiting for the results of forensic analysis, or even waiting on an answer from CPS, many hours and days could be lost. Scott found it the most frustrating part of his job. He left Helen and Raj to follow through with their enquiries, whilst he visited the scene of the latest assault.

  Newark Place sat in an elevated position several streets away from where Linda Allen had last been seen. It was a tight and narrow street. On one side sat a row of featureless, flat-fronted terraced housing. They appeared narrow in proportion. Scott imagined they were two-up two-down residences. Ideal as student lets. The other side of the street was skirted by brick walls that marked the boundary of gardens in the next street.

  Police officers had cordoned off the area where the assault had taken place and had completed their fingertip search. Two patrol cars blocked either end of the street, and half a dozen police officers were compiling their notes following door-to-door enquiries.

  Scott looked at the darkened street. It offered an ideal location for a predator to stalk a victim and launch an attack. With houses on one side of the street, it reduced the opportunity to be discovered or seen. What Scott found most alarming, was the clear lack of street lighting providing opportunity for someone to lurk in the shadows behind cars, waiting to pounce.

  He picked his location well, Scott thought. He glanced up and down the street. There is nowhere for a victim to run.

  A uniformed officer approached him. “Guv, we’ve completed our enquiries here. Is there anything else you need us to do?”

  Scott stuffed his hands in his pockets. The cold night air crept through the fibres in his clothes and tickled his skin. Shivers raced down his spine. “Did anything get thrown up in the witness statements?”

  The officer shook his head. He went on to explain that several residents did venture out, but only saw a man from behind disappear around the corner at the far end of the street.

  They left Scott alone with his thoughts. If this was Richards, he was both brazen and desperate. His need to stalk women, and attack them despite the inherent danger, suggested it was an addictive behaviour that needed feeding.

  As he walked back towards his car, his phone vibrated in his pocket. It was Helen.

  “Guv, I think we’ve got him. The triangulation gave us a hit near to you. And better still, Raj has been on to the council. Richards rented a garage for about five years. He didn’t renew his contract when it ended three months ago. And check this out. The garage is still available for rent, and it’s in the vicinity of the triangulation.”

  35

  The team, together with backup, arrived at a row of six garages a few hundred yards behind Brighton rail station. They were units tucked away in a small residential street. Each metal garage door was painted green. Several were in use, as the paint was clean and well looked after. Two units appeared to not have been in use for some time. Cobwebs crept down from the brickwork, paint peeling and faded.

  It was dark and just after six a.m. Brighton was waking, as commuters made their way to the station. The increased police activity caused many to cast a secondary glance as they hurried, keen to avoid missing their train.

  Mike and Helen had joined Scott. Raj held back in the office and continued with his research. A half-dozen other uniformed officers joined the group, fanning out along the row of garages, standing in readiness.

  Uncertainty plagued Scott, but he hoped evidence linked to Richards would be discovered in the garage. Richards may have kept a copy of the key or broken in knowing it was empty. It would provide a perfect escape bolthole.

  They had approached the garage in silence, not wishing to disturb Richards if he was there. Scott had tried the lock and found it to be shut. He tried the key that Helen had brought with her from Richards’s key fob. It fitted the style of the door lock but didn’t turn. Expecting that possibility, he had called ahead for a locksmith who approached the lock with a sizeable cordless drill.

  With all the officers positioned and ready to storm the unit, Scott gave the locksmith a nod. The man was thickset, and heavily overweight. He leant his weight behind the drill as he positioned the bit in the slot. A high-pitched metal whirring shrill broke the silence.

  The anticipation was a nervous energy. It tingled through Scott like electrical sparks on the way to the ground, gathering in his toes. He curled his fingers around his Maglite torch, and glanced across to Mike who held a stone-cold stare at the door. Helen stood beside Mike, ready to move. Courage oozed from her. She would be the first to storm
in when given the chance.

  The other uniformed officers readied themselves, several held torches, others held their batons in readiness, all unsure what to expect. A risk assessment had been undertaken enroute to the location. Information suggested that Richards, although violent, didn’t carry a threat in relation to carrying a firearm or other deadly weapon.

  The locksmith twisted the handle to release the broken lock. He stepped back a few paces and hid behind the safety of the officers gathered, wariness etched on his face, concern narrowing his eyes.

  Scott braced himself. Tension rippled in the air. It snapped and crackled like electricity that ran along the power lines and fizzed on rainy days.

  A uniformed officer pulled the up and over door above his head as his colleagues surged in. “Police stay where you are!” they shouted in unison.

  They ground to a halt a few feet in from the doorway. Scott pushed through them and stared into the darkened space lit only by the glare from white pulses of light. “Fuck.”

  “Bollocks,” Mike returned.

  As adrenaline left Scott’s body, a thick silence enveloped them all. They stared in disbelief and disappointment at the empty garage. It had been stripped clean. Cobwebs hung from the ceiling, and the floor was dusty and oily. The unit hadn’t been used in ages

  They stepped out into the darkened driveway and glanced around.

  “I thought we had him, Guv.” Helen sighed.

  “So did I. The triangulation shows that the phone’s location is nearby. The stats only give us a broad area from which to work, and we’re looking at an area of around a few hundred yards in radius, maybe more. He could be holed up in any house around here.” There was disappointment and frustration in Scott’s tone.

  Scott pulled out his phone. On the third ring Raj answered. “Raj, we drew a blank. The garage was empty. But if he is with his phone, then he’s nearby. Has anything come through from the press release?”

  The line went silent, whilst Raj checked online. “No confirmed sighting, Guv. We had a few calls suggesting he looked familiar, but nothing concrete. I’ve got a few more to go through.”

  Scott thought for a few seconds, a mixture of frustration, anger and embarrassment flashing through him. It felt like they were clutching at straws and chasing their tails. Relying on nothing more than phone triangulation didn’t fill him with positivity. There was the chance that the phone had been discarded. “Raj, do me a favour. Can you get onto the phone company and ask for a new triangulation? Just in case they’ve got it wrong.”

  An anxious wait followed as officers mingled around their cars. Helen and one other officer had gone in search of refreshments and had come back with a tray of hot drinks and some croissants.

  Scott knew cell site triangulation carried risks. In built-up urban areas, the triangulation was more accurate due to closer proximity of mobile masts. In Brighton, most masts were closer to the city centre. The problem Scott considered was that if one mast was busy, the signal would ping off the next nearest available mast. That would distort the results and skew the triangulation.

  Mike, Helen and Scott sat in silence. Mike burped much to Helen’s annoyance. “Do you think there are more vics out there?” he asked of no one as he stared out of the window.

  “I suspect there are. Now we have his DNA, we can do a nationwide database check. I wouldn’t be surprised if there are more victims who’ve survived, but didn’t come forward…”

  “Or victims who didn’t survive…and may never be found,” Mike added.

  Scott knew that more than eighty percent of victims never reported a sexual assault to police. With more than an estimated five hundred thousand victims a year, many assailants got away with their crimes.

  Scott’s phone rang and startled all three. It was Raj. “Guv, I’ve checked the triangulation area again, and nothing’s changed. Within the identified area, there’s another group of four garages owned by the council. Three are occupied. The fourth is empty.”

  Scott nodded towards Mike and gave him the signal to start the car and notify the police carrier parked in front. They moved off as Raj provided them with the address about half a mile away. Raj called again when they were less than a few minutes away.

  “Guv, I’m going through more calls from the press release. A member of the public believes they recognised Richards’s picture. The caller returned late from work, and as she exited the car, saw a man matching Richards’s description walk past. She described the character as acting suspiciously. The man kept looking over his shoulder, was walking in a hurry, with his hands tucked in his pockets, and had a baseball cap pulled low over his eyes.”

  The description excited Scott. What made the sighting crucial was the witness lived less than one hundred yards away from the garages they were heading to.

  They gathered outside the garage. Scott looked around the edges of the door. There were no cobwebs that would suggest a lack of use. There were fresh scrapings on the floor from where one corner of the door caught the floor each time it opened.

  Scott tried the key in the lock. He paused when the key turned and unlocked the handle. The locksmith breathed a sigh of relief as he took a few steps back and positioned himself a safe distance behind the row of police officers.

  Scott stepped aside as a burly police officer grabbed the handle and yanked on the door. It didn’t move. The officer tugged again, but the door refused to budge.

  “We need to get this open,” Scott whispered, realising that the door must be secured from the inside somehow. It heightened expectation that this was the garage they were looking for.

  Two other police officers stepped forward with large crowbars and wedged them into either side of the door. The metal bent and creaked under the pressure. Other officers joined in as they grabbed at the edges. Some minutes later, the door relented, as mechanisms behind it snapped and cracked, causing it to fly open.

  A wave of uniforms flooded in. With enough natural daylight, there was less of a need for torches. “Police! Stay where you are!” they shouted en masse.

  In comparison to the last garage, this one contained more content. Brown storage boxes stacked haphazardly to one side. Garden implements, a wheelbarrow, plus other assorted tools were scattered around the spare space. The far end of the garage was stacked floor to ceiling with more cardboard boxes which reduced the length of space in the garage by half. There were far too many officers in the limited space available, so several stepped out.

  There were mixed feelings amongst the team. A natural disappointment at not finding Richards, but the tools, and boxes more than likely belonged to him. The officers would be on site for some hours as they meticulously assessed and documented everything found.

  As the officers spoke amongst themselves, Scott had a moment to reflect as he stood by the edge of the garage. Confusion and suspicion gnawed away at him. Triangulation details put Richards, or at least his phone, in the vicinity, and he was in possession of the key to this garage. Scott stepped back into the gloom of the garage and walked amongst the boxes. His eyes scanned from one to another hoping that something would jump out of him.

  Scott sighed and turned. He had only walked a few steps when he halted. His eyes darted from left to right as he tuned in to what he thought was a sound coming from behind him. He turned and stared at the wall of boxes.

  Mice? Rats? More than likely.

  Scott stepped forward and held his ear against the boxes. He searched for a noise in the silence that surrounded him, but conversations from outside made it harder. He clicked his fingers a few times to get their attention and placed a finger to his lips. The conversations dulled as officers turned to face him. Scott listened again. Nothing. Then he heard it again. A slight shuffling. Silence. More shuffling.

  Taking a step back, Scott signalled for the officers to join him. And in silence, they formed a chain as one box after another was removed. A partitioned wall started reveal, with an improvised door made of OSB board fixed by l
ong black hinges.

  “This is the police, open up!” Scott shouted as he hammered on the door. The sound from behind became frenetic. The shuffling increased. He stepped back and turned to the nearest officer dressed in protective gear and gave him the nod. The officer swung at the door with the red enforcer. The wall shuddered under the impact, and after a few thrusts, the board shattered.

  “Open!” ordered Scott as he stood out of the way. “Now! Get the bloody thing open.” Scott watched as the officers forced their way in. Whoever was in there was cornered, and Scott had no idea who lurked in the darkness, or how they would react.

  Other officers joined as they grabbed the edges and pulled the door off its hinges. “Police!” yelled the officers as they prepared to surge through the gap they had made in the wall.

  A figure charged towards them from the darkness beyond. With a hammer in one hand, he raced towards the nearest officer, his lips pulled back, his teeth snarling like a rabid dog.

  The hammer connected with the officer’s shoulder sending him to the floor, howling in pain.

  The crazy man swung wildly, as other officers surrounded him, each one ducking from the arc of each swing. If it hadn’t of been such a dangerous situation, the scene would have been comical, as officers stumbled out of the way and fell over the array of boxes that lay scattered across the floor.

  One officer pulled out her Taser and took aim, just as Mike charged forward and went in low to rugby-tackle the assailant from the front, as Scott raced in from behind. Between them, they brought the large man down to the ground, and grappled with him on the floor. Mike’s large frame smothered the man as Scott tussled with the hand that tried to wildly swing the hammer.

  Further officers joined in. They pinned the man down by his legs before spinning him onto his front and applying cuffs from behind.

  The torchlight from one officer illuminated the man’s face. As the body slumped in defeat, Scott let out a breath he must have been holding for ages.