Missing Persons
Daniel Campbell
Sean Campbell
Missing Persons
First published in Great Britain by De Minimis 2017
© Sean Campbell 2017
The moral rights of Sean Campbell & Daniel Campbell to be identified as the authors of this work have been asserted by them in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
Cover Art designed by Nadica Boshkovska, © Sean Campbell 2017
All characters are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
First Edition
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Prologue
Chapter 1: Freedom
Chapter 2: Work
Chapter 3: Old Times
Chapter 4: Home Alone
Chapter 5: The Other Woman
Chapter 6: Home Sweet Home
Chapter 7: Anything but Paperwork
Chapter 8: Moving On
Chapter 9: Long Time, No See
Chapter 10: The Search Begins
Chapter 11: The Note
Chapter 12: Jurisdiction
Chapter 13: Money, Money, Money
Chapter 14: The Duelling Grounds
Chapter 15: Sofa
Chapter 16: Here We Go Again
Chapter 17: The Frogwoman
Chapter 18: The Pathologist
Chapter 19: Stakeout
Chapter 20: The Autopsy
Chapter 21: Team Meeting
Chapter 22: It’s Never Lupus
Chapter 23: Love, Life, and Betrayal
Chapter 24: Can’t Stop Loving You
Chapter 25: Jealousy
Chapter 26: The Doppelgänger
Chapter 27: The Brother
Chapter 28: Moving On
Chapter 29: Denied
Chapter 30: The Other Man
Chapter 31: Amateur
Chapter 32: Too Much Attention
Chapter 33: Wham!
Chapter 34: Emergency Contact
Chapter 35: Home Sweet Home
Chapter 36: The Wreckage
Chapter 37: Not My Job
Chapter 38: By the Numbers
Chapter 39: Return to Normal
Chapter 40: Get on with It
Chapter 41: One Down
Chapter 42: The Truth, the Whole Truth, and Nothing But
Chapter 43: Who, What, and When?
Chapter 44: Interrupted
Chapter 45: Pointing Out the Obvious
Chapter 46: Seventy-two Hours
Chapter 47: Unexplained Absences
Chapter 48: Nowhere to Run
Chapter 49: Lady of Leisure
Chapter 50: Who Is She?
Chapter 51: Freedom
Chapter 52: Old Friends
Chapter 53: Grey Justice
Chapter 54: Confrontation
Chapter 55: Only We Know
Chapter 56: VOIP
Chapter 57: Ride Along
Chapter 58: Ring Ring
Chapter 59: Clean Shot
Chapter 60: Not Feeling Yourself
Chapter 61: De-escalation Point
Chapter 62: Finger-pointing
Chapter 63: Take It?
Chapter 64: Time
Chapter 65: Guilty
Prologue
Two Years Ago
It was her innocence that doomed her.
After two years in the clink, Faye Atkins yearned to walk free once more.
She had been eighteen at the time of her conviction. Legally an adult, yet no more responsible than most people her age, Faye had been offered a deal – plead guilty, and get a lenient sentence. She’d have left that courtroom a free woman, spent a few hours picking up rubbish, and then carried on with her life.
Convinced that the truth would set her free, Faye pleaded not guilty and placed her trust in the legal system.
The judge handed down a sentence of four years for possession of a class B drug, and now, at the halfway mark, Faye’s continued incarceration was in the hands of the Parole Board.
The three members of the board had assembled early and without any of the ceremony usually associated with legal proceedings. One man and two women had just one day to wade through nearly fifty parole cases.
Everything was done on paper. Nobody wanted to listen to the convicts themselves, for they were convinced they would hear only lies. Folders were piled high on a small table in a dingy room in HM Prison Holloway. The three crowded around the table, paper cups of powdered coffee in hand, and set about their work.
The youngest of the three, who was also the chairwoman, opened up the first folder in the pile. ‘What about this girl? First offence, only one victim, and she was barely an adult when she went down.’
‘Hmm. Faye Atkins. She must have met a cranky judge that day. Four years for possession of cannabis? That’s practically the maximum,’ the man said.
‘It looks like there’s a reason for that. By her own admission, she was on her way to deliver the weed to someone else. Why didn’t they stick her for dealing?’
‘Too much work for the CPS, I imagine. They’d have had to prove she was selling the stuff.’
‘What would she have got for dealing?’
‘Fourteen years,’ said the man.
‘Then four is fair. What do you think, Alice? You’re awfully quiet today,’ the chairwoman said.
Alice’s eyes darted from the chairwoman to the man and back, as if she were trying to gauge their opinion. It was her first time sitting on the Parole Board, and she was clearly out of her depth. ‘I’m not sure. She claims she didn’t do it. She says she was taking a bag back to a friend. If that’s true, then she doesn’t deserve jail at all.’
‘Come on, Alice. We’re not here to retry the original case. They found her guilty. That’s it. If she’s still claiming she didn’t do it, then she clearly doesn’t feel any remorse. She deserves to stay exactly where she is. We’ve got four minutes per case today. Time to vote on it. I’m for leaving her in jail. John?’
‘I vote we let her out,’ John said.
‘Then it’s up to you, Alice.’ The chairwoman looked at her expectantly. ‘And if she deals again, and somebody’s kid dies because of it, it’s on your shoulders.’
‘I... Leave her where she is.’
‘Good call. Next case?’
Chapter 1: Freedom
Sunday 5th June
The world was beautiful once more. It didn’t matter that it was raining, or that Faye was pallid, gaunt, and ungroomed. It didn’t even matter that she only had forty-six pounds in the bank. She was finally free.
Four years had felt like a lifetime inside the walls of HMP Holloway. It was a dubious honour to be one of the last women ever to be incarcerated there, for the prison was due to close shortly after Faye’s release.
Though legally an adult, Faye hadn’t felt that way when she was convicted. Eighteen seemed to be an odd age: no longer a child, yet not quite a woman. Faye had never been to prom. She’d missed out on university. She’d never had a real job. As her boyfriend Mark always said, doing nails part-time on a Saturday didn’t count for much. Now she was free, and the future had never looked so bright.
Today was the first day of the rest of her life.
‘Faye! Faye! Are you paying attention to me at all?’ Mark waved a hand at her.
Faye twisted against her seatbelt to look at the man speaking to her, Mark Sanders. Mark had been her rock, the one person she could rely on. He’d visited her every week without fail, unlik
e her so-called friends, who had almost all stopped coming entirely within a year or two. He’d even taken in her precious cat, Fabby, when she was locked up. Without Mark, she’d have gone crazy on the inside.
‘I’m listening,’ Faye said. ‘What were you saying, again?’
‘I said, you’ll have some adjustments to make now that you’re coming to live with me,’ Mark said. ‘Living on a narrowboat isn’t like being in a flat. I just know you’ll love it.’
‘Mark, I’m not too sure about this,’ Faye said hesitantly. ‘There’s room at Mum’s.’
Mark took Faye’s hand in his and looked into her eyes. ‘I’ve told you, babe. You can’t go back. Not while he’s there.’
Faye snatched her hand from Mark’s and then turned away to stare out of the taxi window. When she turned back towards Mark, her mascara was smudged. ‘Ilford’s all I’ve ever known, Mark.’
‘Then it’ll be an adventure. You used to love Dad’s old boat! Remember that time we snuck on board with that bottle of vodka you’d pilfered from your parents’ cabinet? It’ll just be us. You and me against the world.’
Faye bit her lip. ‘It’s not the same, though, is it? Hiding on a boat for a night isn’t like living on one.’
‘You’ll adjust. Life on a boat is so freeing. We can move around as much as we want, even take off to the country for a weekend if we like.’ Mark gave her hand a gentle squeeze.
Faye hesitated and then squeezed back. ‘I guess you’re right.’
‘She’s moored in Poplar at the moment. She’s a real beauty, you know. Seventy feet long, a traditional stern, and made by Kingsguard. Money can’t buy a better boat. Dad’s life insurance was good for something, after all.’
The Thames came into view as the taxi passed Limehouse Basin. They travelled in silence as Faye stared out at the overcast sky, the window open despite the rain.
Faye’s eyes suddenly lit up. ‘Can we visit Laura later? I haven’t seen her in forever.’
Mark glowered momentarily, and then he turned away. When he looked back, his face was a mask; emotionless. ‘I don’t think so, babe. Not today.’
‘Please?’
‘I said no. We’ve got to move the boat tonight.’
‘Why?’
Mark’s polite demeanour melted. ‘I’ve already explained all this. Weren’t you listening the last time I visited you? We have to move every two weeks, otherwise the Canal and River Trust will be all over me. We’re heading down to Victoria Park.’
‘How far is that from home?’
‘Not far,’ Mark said. ‘I’ve got you an Oyster card and put twenty quid on it so you’ll be able to get around a bit. Is there anything else you need me to pick up for you?’
Faye thought for a moment. She’d been given her old purse back, but other than a few scraps of paper, an old lipstick, and some copper coinage, it was nearly empty. ‘I could do with a mobile.’
‘I’m way ahead of you there, darling. Here.’ Mark fished inside a carrier bag at his feet. ‘All yours.’
The phone Mark handed her couldn’t have been any cheaper. It looked like the sort of mobile phone a child might be given in case of an emergency. It wouldn’t play games or go online, and it was chunkier than Santa at Christmas. At least the battery would last for weeks rather than hours. ‘I’ve put my number in there already, and Jake’s. I’m afraid I don’t know Laura’s number, so you’ll have to look that up on Facebook.’
The taxi pulled to a halt. The driver turned in his seat to open the plastic window between the front of the cab and the back and then glanced at the meter. ‘Fifty quid, please.’
‘Daylight bloody robbery,’ Mark muttered as he stretched to free his wallet from his jeans pocket. The taxi sped away as soon as the doors had shut behind the pair, and soon they were trudging down towards the canal towpath where The Guilty Pleasure awaited them.
***
The Guilty Pleasure was an enormous boat, nearly twice the size of the next boat over. She was sleek, olive-green, and modern, with windows along the length of her. Mark took Faye by the hand and helped her onto the bow. Faye noticed a pair of frayed jeans hanging from the rail with the legs going into the murky water.
‘What’s that for?’ Faye asked.
‘The jeans? Oh, that’s for Fabby. She loves jumping into the water, but she can’t get out easily without something to sink her claws into.’
When Faye went inside, the first thing that struck her was how spacious the boat was. The second thing she noticed was the pile of takeaway leaflets by the sink in the small kitchenette. Her nose crinkled disapprovingly.
‘I don’t get to cook much,’ Mark said sheepishly. ‘Work has been crazy lately.’
‘That’s okay. I haven’t had a takeaway in years.’ Faye riffled through the leaflets until she spotted one for the Bengal Kitchen in Canary Wharf. ‘Do you fancy Indian?’
‘Oh, no. If you’re staying with me for free, you’re earning your keep. I’ve bought in everything you need to make spaghetti Bolognese. The veg is in the fridge, and the meat is defrosting on the counter. If you can’t find something, look again.’
Faye scowled.
‘It’s just tonight, okay?’ Mark held up his hands as if in surrender. ‘I really need some me time, as I’ve got to go prep for work.’
‘You work too much.’
‘This isn’t normal. I’m pitching for a new client next week. It’s the biggest deal I’ve ever worked on. The company is huge, and we’d be looking at a seven-figure service contract. If I can land it, my commission would be more than my salary. This one could be huge for me. For us.’
Faye looked sceptical, but she began to search through the fridge.
Mark kissed her neck, his aftershave lingering in the air. ‘We could go on holiday somewhere warm and sunny. Haven’t you always wanted to go to Paris? Give me a shout when dinner is ready, and we’ll move the boat after we’ve eaten.’
Faye turned, ready for a fight, but Mark had already disappeared through the narrow doorway out of the galley kitchen, heading towards their tiny sitting room. Gnashing her teeth, she took an onion and began to chop. Her eyes began to water almost immediately. She hoped it was the onions.
***
The ropes were untied, and the mooring pins had been placed safely on the roof of the boat. Mark kicked against the towpath to push the boat off. It was late afternoon, and the boat had to be moved before it got dark.
‘Normally, I move on Saturdays, every other week. Limehouse is a short stay, just twenty-four hours. Think of it like parking a car. Some places we can stick around for a while, and some we can’t.’
‘How long will we be able to stay in Victoria Park?’ Faye asked.
‘Two weeks, which is forever for central London. Assuming we can find a space. It’s in demand this time of year. We’ll be able to picnic in the park, take long walks along the canal, and sleep under the stars. Doesn’t that sound lovely?’
It took a moment for the starter motor to warm up, and then they were off. At three miles an hour, the journey still took less than two hours’ trundling along the Regent’s Canal. Mark steered from above, obviously enjoying showing off his boating skills, while Faye watched him from the sitting room below. He didn’t yet trust her to man the helm. ‘It’s not as easy as it looks,’ he’d said. ‘She’s a big boat, and there’s a lot of weight to manhandle. I’ll teach you soon enough, just not tonight.’
In the end, they made it into Victoria Park long before sunset. Boats were moored two abreast all the way along the canal. For a seventy-footer like The Guilty Pleasure, there was no chance of mooring up.
‘Damn!’ Mark cried loudly.
Faye poked her head out of the cabin. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘We’re going to have to keep moving. There’s not enough room for us here. We’ll need to move on to City Road. It’s a lot less pretty, but it’ll do for work.’
Chapter 2: Work
Monday 6th June, 09:30
/> City Road was as dingy as Mark had promised. The towpaths were littered with broken beer bottles, empty rubbish bags, and the occasional needle. The water was dirty, so Fabby was confined to the boat. Even the people seemed grubbier, more desperate. Everybody walked slightly hunched over in short strides, desperate to avoid eye contact with those they passed. Worse still, it meant Faye had to walk to the tube and then catch a bus just to get home to Ilford.
By the time the bus dropped Faye off on Ilford High Street just north of the leisure centre, Faye’s Oyster Card had taken a battering.
Ilford was familiar at first glance, with a mix of charity shops and places to gamble away the weekly giros. Then there were a smattering of boutique shops and fancy-looking restaurants that Faye didn’t remember being there before her stint inside.
It was early on Monday morning, and a queue was forming along the pavement near a payday lender that Faye remembered all too well. Her eyes glazed over for a moment, and then she snapped back to attention. She was there for a reason.
Mark had given her a stack of curricula vitae he’d printed out for her at work. Not that she’d had much to put on there. Three GCSEs and half a GNVQ didn’t qualify her for much. Nor would prospective employers be too enamoured of her ability to paint nails every other Saturday. Faye pulled the first CV from the top of the pile, swallowed her pride, and headed into the first building nearest the bus stop. The sign above the door read Ilford Building Society.
She waited in line for the customers in front of her to be served, and then edged towards the counter. ‘Hi, I saw the sign in the window. Can I give you a CV?’
The woman looked down at her as if sizing her up. She honed in on the half-blank CV straight away. ‘Let me see it.’
Faye handed it over, trying not to bite her lip.
‘Hon, what’s this gap? You did nails for a living four years ago, and then what?’
‘I was in prison,’ Faye mumbled.
The woman burst out laughing. ‘Are you serious? You want me to give you a job where you’d be handling money all day? Get out of here.’
‘But...’
‘Out.’
Faye turned on her heel and headed for the door. It was going to be a long day.
Missing Persons (A DCI Morton Crime Novel Book 5) Page 1