Paper Girls

by Alex Smith

  “Dad?” added her three-year-old sister, Evie. “I’m hungry.”

  “Dad?”

  “Aad,” went the baby, before breaking into another klaxon-like wail of fury. It was so loud that Kett had to close his eyes for a second, and in doing so he almost missed the sliproad. He indicated, pulling off, the sun mercifully falling over his shoulder. The car seemed to instantly cool by ten degrees.

  “I’m hungry!” whined Evie. “I need a poo.”

  “Are we nearly there?” said Alice.

  “We are,” he said, and for the first time that day it wasn’t a lie. “We are. Ten minutes, I promise.”

  Although it would be longer, because he couldn’t quite remember where he was going. He’d spent the first twelve years of his life up here, but that was thirty years ago now and the roads had changed since then. He half thought about pulling over and firing up the satnav, but if he stopped now then the chances were the girls would pile out with or without his permission, and Moira’s screams would quadruple in strength.

  He scanned the forest of green signposts ahead, spotting one for the north of the city and swerving into the next lane over. Somebody leaned on their horn as he cut them up and in a moment of blind fury he almost contemplated climbing out of the Volvo, dragging them from their car and arresting them right there on the hard shoulder.

  Except you’re not on duty any more, he reminded himself. Not technically, anyway. The whole point of coming up here is to get away.

  Get away from London. Get away from the job. Get away from everything that reminded him of Billie, his wife.

  He slammed on his brakes just to annoy the man behind him, slowing to a crawl as he approached the traffic lights ahead. They’d just switched to red when he put his foot down, the old Volvo roaring through the lights and onto the circular. He checked his mirror, seeing the car behind him screech to a halt, a red face gurning through the windscreen.

  He might not be on duty any more, but there was nothing to stop him being an arsehole.

  “I can feel a poo coming out,” said Evie.

  “For heaven’s sake,” he grunted. “Just hang on, it’s right up ahead.”

  Luckily it was halfway between lunch and pick-up and the roads were relatively clear. He raced up the circular, looking out onto a city that he had mostly forgotten—and which had entirely forgotten him. Other than flashes of the cathedral spire, etched in golden sunshine, there wasn’t a single thing here that he could remember from childhood. Occasionally a police car would drive by and he waved reflexively, and the one time an ambulance blazed past in full concert mode he had to avoid the urge to chase it. He kept his head down, kept his pace steady, as they made their way up the hill.

  “Evie’s pooped herself,” said Alice with an unkind laugh.

  “I haven’t! You have!” she retaliated.

  “You’ve pooped your pants!”

  “I’ll poop in your pants!” Evie squealed.

  At this, Kett almost managed a smile. He slowed, scanning the street names, finding the one he wanted and turning the car off the main road. Only when he saw the house ahead did he remember to breathe, and it felt like the first breath he’d taken all day, flooding his body with relief. The girls sensed it, all of them falling quiet.

  The street was busy, cars parked up both sides, and Kett had to drive halfway up before he found a space. He pulled in, bumping up onto the kerb. Then he switched off the engine, and for a single, blissful moment there was no sound at all other than the gentle whisper of the wind in the trees outside.

  “Is this it?” screeched Alice at a thousand decibels. “Are we here?”

  He nodded and they broke into cheers that could have shattered every window on the street, Moira making a noise that might have been joy or might have been terror—Kett wasn’t sure. He opened his door, the hinges squeaking almost as much as his joints did as he climbed out and straightened up. Alice had already unbuckled herself and was climbing into the front.

  “No!” yelled Evie, wrestling with her bumper seat. “Wait for me!”

  Kett closed his eyes, pushing down on a sudden wave of anxious energy. What he wouldn’t give to have Billie here right now, her soothing voice, her smile. She would have calmed the girls in a heartbeat.

  But she’s gone, he reminded himself. She’s gone.

  He opened his eyes, liquid sunlight searing its way into his head.

  “Come on,” he said, helping Alice out of the car. “Let’s go start our new life.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  As it turned out, their new life didn’t want to start.

  “Come on, you fudging barstool,” Kett said as he jiggled the key in the Yale lock. Moira squirmed in his arms, as strong as a bear cub. Her chubby hands repeatedly hit him in the face, making the job of unlocking the house even harder than it should have been. Behind him, Alice was sitting on the low wall of the front garden, Evie doing her best to climb up beside her.

  The key wouldn’t budge. Kett swore, hefting the baby into his other arm.

  “Daddy, I really need a poo,” said Evie, abandoning the wall and clutching her behind.

  “I’m working on it, sweetie,” he said through gritted teeth. “Give me a second. Hold it in and say You shall not pass!”

  He cut down the side of the house. It was a three-bed semi, the walls grey pebbledash and the sash windows peeling like dandruff. Somebody, probably the letting agent, had done a half-arsed job of cutting back the shrubbery, but Kett still could have done with a machete as he pushed through the rickety gate into the back garden. He held it open for the girls, who immediately began running in crazed circles around the yellowing grass, barking like dogs.

  It seemed safe enough, so he placed Moira on the lawn, the baby waddling after her sisters. There was another door here which probably led into the kitchen and he tried the handle, knowing that he was being a little optimistic. Sure enough, the door was locked, although the whole thing shifted in its frame when he shook it.

  “Daaaady!” yelled Evie, obviously in some distress.

  Kett slipped his phone out of his pocket, ignoring the photograph of him and Billie on the lockscreen—Billie in blue silk, a daisy in her hair, grinning as she kissed him on the cheek at a friend’s wedding two years ago. He opened his emails, trying to find the number of the letting agent. Behind him, Moira had started screaming again, and Evie quickly joined in. The noise spun the stress dial in Kett’s head to eleven and before he was even aware of what he was doing he’d lifted his foot, stepped forward, and planted his size eleven police boot on the lock side of the door.

  It didn’t stand a chance, the old wood splintering as it crunched against the wall. It wobbled like a KO’d boxer as it swung back, and Kett used a hand to steady it. He glanced back, all three girls watching him with wide eyes and open mouths. A welcome bubble of laughter spilled out of him.

  “That didn’t happen,” he said. “Come on.”

  He scooped up the baby, holding the door for Alice and Evie. The inside of the house was mercifully cool, the kitchen blinds pulled halfway down and the air heavy with dust. He’d been in a lot of houses over the years and he knew instinctively that this one had lain dormant for some time. The surfaces had been cleaned, the floor swept, but the handles of the cabinets looked greasy with disuse, and there were ancient cobwebs spun like silk up and down the chain of the blind. It hadn’t been opened in weeks.

  Still, it was dry. It was quiet.

  It was home.

  “Hurry daddy!” squirmed Evie.

  “Come on, find the bathroom then.”

  He twisted the tap to get the lead out of the water, watching Alice and Evie as they barrelled from the kitchen into the hallway. Moira was making a bid for freedom again but he held onto her as he fumbled with his phone, finally finding the number for the letting agent. He walked out of the room as it rang, seeing a short corridor with a staircase leading up into sunshine. Alice and Evie were in the living room, pounding the couch into
dust as they leaped up and down it.

  “Careful,” he told them, his word carrying just as much authority as he suspected it would. They continued to jump, and Kett stepped out into the hall again, finding a small toilet beneath the stairs. It was a tiny house, and he cursed himself for believing the photographs he’d seen online. The tricks they worked with house brochures were magic, all low angles and good lighting. It was almost criminal.

  “Evie,” Kett called out. “Toilet, come on, I don’t want you christening the new house.”

  “I don’t need any more,” she called back.

  “Of course you don’t,” he grumbled. “Bloody—”

  “Good afternoon, Shackley’s, Dawn speaking, how may I help?”

  The young voice on the phone sounded about as bored as it was possible to be. The baby heard it and shrieked a “Hiya!” right into Kett’s ear, so he gave up and put her down.

  “Yeah, hi,” he said. “My name’s Robert Kett, I’m renting one of your properties. 8 Morgane Street.”

  “Do you have a postcode?” Dawn asked.

  “No, but I’m pretty sure you won’t have two houses at 8 Morgane Street. My key didn’t work.”

  Dawn popped some gum.

  “Right,” she said. “It should have worked.”

  “I am well aware that it should have worked,” he replied, trying to stay patient. “Keys usually do, otherwise what’s the point of them? This one didn’t.”

  “I can get a locksmith to you by the end of the day.”

  “We’re already in,” he said. “But you’ll need to send somebody to fix the door.”

  “You can’t let yourself in,” Dawn said, her voice as monotone as a computer. “You have to wait—”

  “Dawn,” Kett interrupted. “Let me introduce myself again, properly this time. I’m Detective Chief Inspector Robert Kett, of the Metropolitan Police.” Whatever Dawn was chewing, she stopped, letting Kett continue. “We need the house secure by tonight. The state of that door, you’re clearly in breach of your duties as agents. If you like, I can call this in, maybe start an investigation into the security of your tenants?”

  “Uh…” said Dawn. “I’ll get somebody to you within the hour.”

  “Of course you will,” he said.

  He ended the call while she stuttered a response. He hated pulling rank, especially now that he technically wasn’t supposed to do it, but some people deserved to have the fear of god stamped into them and Bored Dawn was certainly one of those people.

  “Hey,” he said, spotting Moira climbing the stairs. “Plenty of time to explore, kiddo.”

  He was scooping her up when his phone rang, and he answered it without looking.

  “You’d better not be messing with me, Dawn,” he growled.

  “As if,” replied a gravelly voice that made Kett stand to attention. “Not even the dawn itself would mess with DCI Kett.”

  “Sir,” Kett said, almost dropping the squirming baby. He let her go again, watching her scoot into the living room on all fours like a wind-up toy. He heard Superintendent Barry “Bingo” Benson laugh, the booming sound of it making him feel weirdly nostalgic.

  “You still driving?” Bingo asked.

  “Nah, just got here,” Kett replied, taking a moment to stretch out his back. “Felt like it took three weeks.”

  “Not surprised, Norwich is the arse end of our ancient nation, isn’t it? The puckered anus on the rump of Great Britain.”

  “That’s a little harsh,” Kett said, walking to the front door and peering through the textured glass. “We’ve got two cathedrals here, and about three hundred pubs.”

  “That covers your basic food groups,” Bingo said.

  Kett heard the man’s chair creak, could picture him leaning back and putting his feet on the desk. Superintendent Benson had got his nickname after the time he’d been called out to a triple homicide in Angel Islington one Saturday evening and he’d forgotten to take off his bowtie and bingo-caller’s mic. Turned out that was what he did to relax, his baritone voice perfect for the bingo halls. Apparently, the old ladies loved him, and they weren’t the only ones. As far as Supers went, he was one of the best.

  “Kids okay?” Bingo asked. Kett held the phone up to the screams that were coming from the living room. Bingo laughed. “I can’t tell if they’re having fun or being tortured.”

  “They’re having fun,” Kett said. “I’m being tortured. But they’re doing okay. I think the move will be good for them. It has to be.”

  Bingo sighed.

  “It will be,” he said. “For them, and for you. You’re on compassionate leave, Robbie, you need this time for yourself, to heal your family. You can’t do that in London.”

  Kett nodded.

  Don’t ask, he told himself. Don’t ask. It was an order, but he heard himself say it anyway.

  “Any news?”

  “You know as well as I do that the moment we hear anything, you’re the first person I call.” Bingo cleared his throat. “If she’s out there, we’ll find her.”

  It was a telling turn of phrase, Kett thought. For the first few days it had been We’ll bring her home. For the next few weeks it had been, Don’t worry, she’ll show up. Kett had known it was only a matter of time before the word “if” appeared, he just hadn’t expected it to be so soon. Fourteen weeks was no time at all.

  It was also forever.

  Bingo seemed to acknowledge his mistake.

  “We’ll find her,” he said. “Let us take care of Billie. You take care of you and yours.”

  Kett heard a rustle as the man stroked his thick moustache, something he always did before a big announcement. It was his tell. Bingo might have been good at Bingo, but he was one of the worst poker players on the planet.

  “What?” said Kett.

  “I mean it about taking this time not to work,” Bingo said. “But as you’re up there, I need you to do me a bit of a favour.”

  He carried on talking, but his words were drowned out by a carnival of noise that marched out of the living room—all three girls doing the Conga towards the stairs and giggling manically. Kett held out a hand, redirecting them to the kitchen.

  “Sorry, sir, you’ll have to start over.”

  Bingo laughed, but there wasn’t much humour to it.

  “I said I need your help. As of yesterday, two girls have gone missing in Norwich.”

  Kett frowned. Two missing girls wasn’t headline material, and nothing that the local CID couldn’t handle.

  “Both newspaper delivery girls,” Bingo went on. “Both eleven, and both taken while on their routes.”

  Kett felt an unpleasant current of electricity tickle his spine, settling in his gut.

  “Taken?”

  “We think so,” Bingo replied, sighing. “The Super in charge of the investigation is highly competent—he’s an… an interesting guy—but this is way past anything his team has dealt with before. Norwich is a quiet place. He needs help.”

  “I thought I was on leave,” Kett said, and he could just about hear Bingo shrug.

  “Your paperwork’s still on my desk,” the Superintendent replied. “I haven’t quite got around to filing it yet. Please, Robbie, just swing by, introduce yourself. He’d appreciate it.”

  Kett blew out a long breath, popping his lips. He peered past the newel post, seeing the kids parading around the kitchen, Moira using her chubby legs to try and climb onto a chair. There were a million reasons to say no, and three of them were right here. The fourth was the last missing persons case he had worked, the only one in his career that he hadn’t been able to solve.

  And the one that had broken him.

  What do I do, Billie?

  He didn’t need to hear her answer. He already knew what he was going to say. There were two girls missing, after all. Two girls who needed him.

  “Sure,” he said. “I’ll do it.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  Thursday

  “You sure it’s okay?�
�

  Kett spoke the words through a mouthful of baby dungarees as Moira tried to climb onto his head. Her hands were on his ears so he was deafened as well as blinded to the woman’s response, but when he peeled the baby away he saw that she was nodding.

  “She’s very welcome, Mr Kett,” the woman said. She gestured through the door at the nursery behind her: a small, squat, green building which sat in the playground of Alice’s new primary school. Inside, twenty kids made the noise of a hundred. Evie hovered by Kett’s side, one hand on his leg, peering in with a look that was half nervous excitement and half abject terror. She caught him looking.

  “You’ll be okay,” he said. “It’s just for a morning, remember? Your sister went in fine.”

  That was almost true. There had been a mini freak-out that morning when Alice couldn’t find her new school cardigan in the suitcases they’d brought with them, but the weather was hot and Kett had let her go without one as a compromise.

  “Alice would be so impressed if you were a big girl too.”

  Evie didn’t reply, she just stood there, her little fists clenched in a way that made Kett’s heart hurt. She’d been through so much, and in a way Billie’s disappearance had hit her harder than it had the other two. Alice was older, but she was programmed a little differently to most of the people he met. Her last school kept mentioning things like ASD and ADHD, and they were on the waiting list for a referral, but the truth was she was just Alice, delightfully unique on some days, frustratingly awful on others. Quirky was the word most often used to describe her. Unless you were Robert Kett, of course, in which case the most common word was annoying.

  But Evie, she took in everything, always watching, always thinking. Her big, blue eyes weren’t even blinking right now, and Kett knew the storm of thoughts that would be circling her head.

  “A couple of hours,” he said. “I’ll get you some Smarties.”

  Whatever doubts she’d been having, the mention of Smarties blew them clean away. With a beaming smile she offered her hand to the woman, who took it with a genuine soulful chuckle.