"Dead," Susan said it for him, "She could be dead."
Arthur reached for Susan and she crumpled into his embrace. Their tears mingled as once again their grief poured out. They had sat like this since Tiffany had not come home; confused by her disappearance and unsure of what they could do to convince her to return. Every text they had received had given them hope that Tiffany may be on her way home, only for Tiffany to scupper their hopes of reuniting. She would just say that she was fine, needed some space and would come home when she was ready. Two days ago, however, the texts had abruptly stopped. Susan had sent countless texts to Tiffany's phone since then, begging her for a reply, but to no avail.
Susan pulled herself out of Arthur's embrace. "Well I'm getting ready and I'm going to the police," she told him.
"Yes you're right," Arthur agreed, "We have to do something."
Susan and Arthur both went upstairs and showered, brushed their teeth and put on some smart clothes; even in grief their sense of self-respect would not allow them to go into the world looking unkempt. They left the house, setting the burglar alarm in their habitual way, then got into the family saloon and made their way to the police station.
-x-
14:00 hours
PC Tom Hunter was back in the station office. It was unusually quiet for two in the afternoon and Tom allowed his mind to ponder his situation at work. When he had joined the police force or 'service' as he had been conditioned to think of it, he had been certain that he was going to change the world. He had been a popular lad at school but found academia was not his strong point. Barely scraping through his exams, Tom had wondered where to go with his life as any notion of becoming a solicitor went out of the window when a series of D's were typed onto his grade sheets. Tom had decided the next best thing was to be a police officer; he was physically fit and able to answer basic maths and English tests. The money was good and he would be respected by his family and the community for following a path of righteousness rather than resorting to crime in order to line his pockets.
When he finally - two attempts at applying later - was welcomed into the service, he enjoyed his training and settled in well amongst like-minded individuals. When Tom left Hendon police training school, he was filled with a sense of power and with a determination to be the best thief taker the Met could spend its money on.
Reality was never as successful as imagination and Tom found that rather than becoming a Super Hero, fighting bad and saving the world, he had become a very small cog in a badly oiled machine which was wrapped very securely in reams of red tape. More often than not evil triumphed over good and justice was just a word saved for films and dreamers. Tom had begun his career keen, willing to believe a victim's story and sure that he would bring all criminals to justice. Since he had started as a police officer, he had been lied to countless times by victims and suspects alike, he had seen pathetic sentences handed out by Magistrates unwilling or frightened to use the full power of the law and had also watched smug criminals walk free from the court because either the Crown Prosecution Service had failed to build a case successfully or because the defence had managed to convince a jury there was a reasonable doubt. Now Tom just went through the daily motions of his role. He hadn't bothered to seek promotion or change into a detective; he enjoyed the camaraderie of his team and his ambition had been lost along with any hopes of becoming a solicitor. Every story he was given by victims was no longer met with belief and a desire to help but with cynicism and a desire to deflect any responsibility for investigations. Tom often offered to take the Station Officer role, it meant he could earn his money with no real threat of personal danger, would more than likely finish his shift when expected and would have access to as many teas and cheese sandwiches as his expanding waistline could handle.
The front door of the police station creaked open and Tom saw a middle aged, respectable looking couple walk into the reception area. Out of habit Tom looked the couple over and made a quick assessment of who they may be or what they could possible desire from the police. Tom decided the couple were married and their clothing suggested they were working class at the very least. He noticed the couples faces were not in keeping with their clothes; they both had heavy bags under tear laden eyes. He quickly assessed this was not someone producing documents; this couple had experienced something upsetting and needed a sympathetic ear rather than an officious policeman. Slipping easily into the role, Tom smiled kindly at the couple and began his investigation.
"Hello," he said. The couple offered reserved smiles. "How can I help you?" he enquired.
"It's our daughter," Arthur began, "She's run away."
"Ok," said Tom. "Come around to the other counter and I will take a report from you."
Arthur gave a sigh of relief. He had expected to be sent away and told there was nothing which could be done, but he was relieved to find a policeman who seemed willing to listen to their story and hopefully help them to get their daughter back.
Tom spent the next hour with Arthur and Susan, getting a full story of Tiffany's disappearance. He filled out a missing person's report and took a full description of Tiffany. Tom was now always mindful of Savannah West; when he had reported her missing his cynical mind had meant he did not put as much effort into the report as he should have done. When her body had been found, it was a stark reminder to him that for every hundred false or resolved reports there was always a possibility that one report would result in a dead child. Tom always ensured from that day on that he took every missing report seriously as he never wanted to feel the guilt he had felt at Savannah's death again.
Reassuring Arthur and Susan that the police would do everything they could to help them find Tiffany, Tom sent them home and asked them to wait for an officer to do the customary house search. He pressed the button on the computer which would send the missing person report to all concerned parties and then went to the control room to circulate Tiffany's description and to ask a police officer to visit the parent's address. Tom just hoped that this would be another girl found at a friend's, hiding from life and her parents. He hoped the police would be able to reunite the family and they could carry on their lives, resolving their problems. More than anything he hoped he was not once again the first point of contact to the parents of a murdered child.
-x-
Detective Inspector Todd 'Todger' Turnbull was sitting at his desk pouring over a two hundred and fifty six paged bank statement. He was investigating a bank's cashier who had been syphoning pennies off customer's bank accounts; amounts so small they would not arouse suspicion of theft. A yearly audit by an astute auditor however, had uncovered the theft and Todd was knee-deep in paperwork and bank manager.
He was grateful for the knock at his door which gave him an excuse to break away from the monotony of financial investigation. "Come in," he shouted and looked up to see Detective Sergeant Mary Webb come in the room.
"Ah here she is to brighten up my day." Todd said. Mary blushed, but got straight down to business.
"Just had a girl reported missing Guv."
"Talk to me." Todd said, dropping his pen on the desk and leaning back in his chair.
"Eleven year old girl; Tiffany Jones, she's been missing since the 16th May."
"What?" Todd sat upright, "Why have they taken so long to report her as missing?"
Mary held up a hand in supplication, "Wait Guv, hold on." Todd sat back again; he couldn't believe there was any good reason for parent's waiting eight days before reporting their eleven year old child missing.
"She's been texting them Guv." Mary said, "On the day she didn't come home, she text them to say she wasn't coming back."
"But she's eleven." Todd was incredulous that the parents had just seemed to accept the child's text without making an effort to find her. He was aware that people never behaved in the way others considered correct. Thought patterns and circumstance often changed the way people behaved and it was not uncommon for victims to go to the police as a
last resort instead of the first option, for fear of appearing weak or because they didn't want to air their dirty laundry in public.
"I know Guv." Mary flicked through the papers she held. "They have been texting her and she was replying, so they didn't think the police would be interested."
"So why have they reported it now?" He asked her.
"Well she stopped texting." Mary shrugged, "They haven't heard from her for two days. She's not replied to any texts or made any contact with them whatsoever. They came this morning; we've already sent an officer around to search their house."
"Ok so we've got an eleven year old who hasn't been seen for eight days and apparently had no contact for the last two." Todd knew the messages meant nothing. History had shown that mobile phones were often used by criminals to throw police off the scent and to twist the truth. Todd had a growing sense of realisation that Tiffany Jones could very well be the newest victim of the unknown killer of Savannah West. Or the victim of Adrian Brown if his suspicions were correct.
"Right Mary, you know what I want you to do, get a search going."
"Yes Guv."
"I want everywhere searched, starting with Elisworth's parks and definitely the allotments and that stream where Savannah West was found."
"Yes Guv. I've already called in the spare team."
"And ring the dog section," Todd added, "Do they have a cadaver dog yet?" Todd knew that there were now dogs trained to detect rotting flesh.
"They've got one, but it's based in North London." Mary said.
"I don't care if it's based in fucking Scotland, get it down here," said Todd. He knew that as Tiffany had been missing for probably eight days; they were more than likely looking for a corpse rather than a living, breathing child. Tiffany was cold, dead and alone somewhere waiting for Todd to find her and reunite her with her grieving parents.
Chapter 26
'Ignorance is bliss.'
Thomas Gray
24th May 2012
16:00 hours
Adrian had been asleep or in a stupor for the last three days. He was starting to come around again after another long sleep. Adrian felt very hazy in his mind and again couldn't recall much of what had happened during the days he had been ill, he knew his mother had stayed home from work to look after him and was grateful that she had as he probably wouldn't have been able to eat or drink anything without her help. Nothing in Adrian made him suspect his mother of any wrongdoing; he believed in his powers of manipulation and was certain he still had his mother under his spell.
Adrian briefly considered Tiffany's phone, he had kept up a constant communication with her parents and was enjoying the feeling of power he held over the desperate couple. He was unsure how long it had been since he had last text them but the unknown medication coursing through his veins caused him to no longer care. He looked at the table beside his bed and saw the Anadin and a glass of water his mother had left for him. Hoping it would finally cure his befuddled head; he took the Anadin and settled himself back into his bedclothes. The happy side effect for Adrian was that he was having very vivid recollections of his time with Savannah and Tiffany; he was quite enjoying his mystery illness so was in no rush to leave the comfort of his bed.
-x-
Jocasta sat on her brown sofa. She had moved seats a year ago as her usual position had sunk so much she couldn't shift herself out of it without great effort. She was watching Deal or No Deal and was momentarily relieved of her problems as she shouted at the television, "No Deal you plum," whilst one of Britain's finest decided whether to gamble £2,000 on the opening of a box. Jocasta had visited all the chemists on her list today and now had a stockpile of tablets which would keep Adrian in his room for at least the next year. Knowing that keeping Adrian at home meant no further child would suffer at his hands, was a comfort to Jocasta. She was accustomed to spending time alone at home and used to her own company so had no problem consigning herself to this self-imposed prison.
Jocasta hoped that eventually she would be able to speak to Adrian about his warped sexual proclivity and in some way help to cure him of his evil desires. She had seen a documentary about conversion therapy. It stated that a guy called Sigmund Freud believed that hypnotic suggestion could turn a homosexual's way of thinking from gay to straight. Jocasta was hopeful that the same thing may be achieved with Adrian if she was to talk through his problems and maybe convince him to seek hypnotherapy. Maybe in the next few months she may get back the beautiful, sweet child that she had raised and bury the vile evil monster that was cuckooing its evil thoughts in Adrian's brain.
Jocasta laughed at the telly as the contestant on the television show lost £5,000 opening the final box and finding themselves the new owner of a shiny penny. She wondered if the contestants were actually given a penny or whether it was all for show. She reached for the box of Just Brazils which sat invitingly on the table before her, then sat back to enjoy the crunch of nut and the warmth of the chocolate whilst she continued to watch the television.
Chapter 27
'I do not seek, I find.'
Pablo Picasso
24th May 2012
17:00 hours
The search team was up and running. It had taken a little while for Detective Sergeant Mary Webb to put together a summary of Tiffany's last known movements, her description and friends - which weren't many - and then to disseminate the information to police officers already on duty and to the spare team who had been called away from the training schedule they would ordinarily keep on a day their shift was not operational.
The cadaver dog was due to enter the Olinsbury borough at around 18:00 hours with directions to start at the allotments where Savannah West had been found. Detective Inspector Todd 'Todger' Turnbull knew that criminals were creatures of habit and the most likely scenario if Tiffany's killer was the same person; was that she may be found in the stream where Savannah had been. Todd hoped that Tiffany was a genuine runaway and that she really was just hiding away from the world but he wasn't going to leave her lying dead somewhere if that had in fact been her fate.
At such short notice it wasn't possible to accrue a team larger than thirty officers, so Todd made sure they were concentrated on the area surrounding Tiffany's school, working their way through Elisworth and checking all known public spaces and parks. The search would take a long time as there was much land to cover. Todd knew that it would probably prove a fruitless exercise; in a town like Elisworth there were few areas of land which remained continuously empty. Parks and recreational areas were often visited by parents with their children, joggers, dog walkers and local drunks looking for somewhere to imbibe away from the eyes of the law. Todd felt sure that if a dead body had been dumped in any of these places then it would have quickly been discovered. He continued with dispersing the teams to these areas, however, as he didn't want to make any mistakes in the hunt for Tiffany.
-x-
Todd made his way to the allotments; he wanted to take control of the search party there as a gut feeling was drawing him back to where Savannah had died. He parked up his Vauxhall in the muddy alleyway and got out of his car, stepping into a grey and rainy day. Pulling up the hood on his anorak, he made his way to the gates where a group of four officers stood in their blue police issue jumpsuits which were used for the purposes of searching.
"Lovely day Guv," One of the officers Todd knew as Navdeep called out to him.
"I know," Todd replied, "It's supposed to be summer for fucks sake." Todd liked to speak to the officers on their level. He didn't use his elevated rank as a badge of honour which granted him the right to a certain kind of snobbery he had seen displayed by other like-ranked officers. Instead Todd considered himself a police officer first and foremost and the officers knew and respected this.
"Yeah, going to be like it until July," Navdeep said. Todd marvelled at how in any given situation the British were always able to discuss the weather. He watched as the other three officers gave murmurs of disappoi
ntment; it was bad enough they were doing such a difficult job without adding rain into the mix.
"Do you think the dog will be able to smell anything in this weather?" enquired another officer. Todd hadn't considered that rain may be a factor in smell and he felt a little forlorn at the prospect.
"Well that's why you lot are here," grinned Todd. "That's what hands and knees are for gents, get on 'em and get searching."
Todd, sans uniform, got on his own hands and knees just inside the gate of the allotments. The officers lined up next to him on their own knees and the group began to move slowly forward; eyes scanning the ground before them for any clue which may lead them to learn the whereabouts of Tiffany Jones.
-x-
18:00 hours
The dog van arrived just as Todd's right knee sank into a pile of dark black and very smelly faeces.
"Oh for fox sake," Todd exclaimed to the tittering officers alongside him. He looked up to see the white van parking with its rear doors pointing towards the allotment gates. A loud deep bark was coming from the back of the van and Todd felt the rise of anticipation at the prospect of solving the riddle of Tiffany's disappearance. He prepared himself for what was to come as every sense he had developed as a police officer told him that she was somewhere on the allotment and he felt sure the dog was about to show him where.
Todd took out his mobile phone and called DS Mary Webb.
"Mary, the dog is here at the allotment now," he advised her, "Can you get down here and make sure that the SOCO's are ready to go?" he wanted any crime scene locked down as soon as possible as he was determined that nobody would be able to contaminate the scene and possibly prevent him from gaining justice.
"Oh and I need the photographer and a tent here because it's pissing down."
Mother Be The Judge Page 18