by Ford, P. F.
‘Well, like maybe you’ve met the father somewhere along the line. Only you seem to have him completely sussed out already.’
‘Well, you heard what the liaison officer said. She said the girl turns into a right little shit every time she comes back from spending time with her dad, playing her mother up and running away. That sounds to me like he’s winding her up whenever she’s with him.’
Slater turned back to face the front and sat up a little straighter in his seat.
‘Let me just remind you,’ he said, gravely, ‘that the “right little shit”, as you describe her, is an eight-year-old trying to come to terms with her parents splitting up. She’s also been missing for the last three hours. I hope I don’t need to start quoting statistics to illustrate the gravity of this situation.’
It was getting dark outside, so it was almost impossible to see the colour rising to Darling’s face, but Slater could see the hint of red on her cheeks and knew he’d made his point.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said, contritely. ‘I didn’t mean it the way it sounded. I was just sort of illustrating how her behaviour would seem to her mother.’
‘You seem to know a lot about this.’ Slater waited to see if she revealed anything, but her lips were a tight line as she stared at the road ahead. ‘I’ll admit that what you say about the father winding Chrissy up is a possibility,’ he said after a minute or two, not wishing to prolong the atmosphere any longer. ‘But it could just as easily be the case that the kid just doesn’t understand why her parents aren’t together anymore. She misses her dad, and she just can’t cope with the situation. Seeing him would just make that worse for her whether he wound her up or not. Don’t you think?’
‘I suppose. But I bet I’m right. For a start, why isn’t he there helping her mother cope? He might not like his wife anymore, but surely, if he’s such a great dad, he would want to know what had happened to his daughter, wouldn’t he?’
Slater had been wondering about that himself. Clive Morrison had been told his daughter was missing, but apparently he had been too busy to leave work. In fact, the liaison officer had told them, he hadn’t even sounded particularly concerned when she had told him.
‘Just turn around this corner and find number 22 and we can ask him, can’t we?’ he said. ‘But I think it might be better if I take the lead.’
‘You’re going to have to work on developing a poker face,’ said Slater an hour later, as they were driving away from Clive Morrison’s house.
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ asked Darling. ‘I can do blank face as good as anyone.’
Slater guffawed loudly.
‘You have to be kidding me. I could read you like a book in there, and I’m sure they could, too. At one point I thought you were going to throw up all over their carpet!’
‘Well, really. Don’t tell me you weren’t looking for a sick bag when she started all that lovey-dovey, simpering like a half-wit stuff.’ She put on a child-like voice. ‘Ooh Clivey, what are they saying? Poor Clivey. Don’t let them talk to you like that, Clivey.’ Then it was back to her normal voice. ‘Hashtag: pass the sickbag.’
Slater turned away from her and looked out of the side window.
‘I mean, come on,’ she said. ‘Clivey! You wouldn’t call a five-year-old Clivey, and he’s old enough to be her bloody father. No wonder his daughter’s confused. She probably thinks he’s traded in her and her mum for an older sister.’
Slater waited for his grin to subside before he turned to face the front again.
‘Well, I suppose we can see why he left his wife.’
‘All tits, no-knickers, and no bloody sense, that’s how my mum would describe her,’ said Darling, continuing her rant. ‘There must be, what, twenty years, or maybe even more, between them? That’s not going to last, is it? Dozy cow. Surely she must know he’s only interested in her body. And as for him, well, he should know she won’t stick with him for long. He won’t be able to stand the pace for a start. It’s not as if his wife’s over the hill, is it? I know which one I would prefer.’
‘Has it occurred to you that their separation might not have anything to do with sex?’
‘Be serious. It’s nearly always about sex. You’ve just seen what he’s swapped his wife for. He’s obviously not there for the stimulating conversation is he? Of course it’s all about sex.’
‘Well, yeah. But what I meant was, maybe the reason he started looking elsewhere was nothing to do with sex. Perhaps they drifted apart and he was just looking for company.’
‘And he chose to look at the local sixth form college, right?’ said Darling. ‘Come on, get real, it’s all about sex, and you know it. God, if she was much younger we’d be nicking him for having sex with a minor.’
‘I’d love to continue this conversation about how shallow men are,’ said Slater, ‘because I’m intrigued to know why you’re getting so wound up about it. Maybe we’ll go down the pub one night and carry it on over a pint, but right now we’re getting off track. What did we learn from Clive Morrison? Apart from the fact he’s left his wife for a pneumatic, eighteen-year-old, would-be beauty queen.’
‘You’re right. I am going off track. I’m sorry. Let me see. We know he’s not much of a father. He sees her just once a month, although he lives less than two miles away from her, and he couldn’t be arsed to leave work early to help look for her now she’s missing. Even now, he doesn’t think it’s his place to be out looking for her. A real dad would be out walking the streets looking for her. Basically, he’s just a nob.’
‘Although it would probably be a first, I don’t think we can put “basically, he’s just a nob” in our report,’ said Slater, with a wry smile. ‘But I agree he’s not likely to be nominated for parent of the year any time soon. But, do we think he, or his girlfriend, have got anything to do with her disappearance?’
‘I can’t see it. Mr Nobhead isn’t interested in the kid, and anyway he was at work when she disappeared, and Miss Nothing-Between-The-Ears doesn’t have the intelligence to plan anything like that, and she’d be too worried about breaking a nail, or smudging her lipstick, to actually snatch a kid who might fight back.’
‘That’s amazing, and yet curiously reassuring,’ said Slater. ‘We appear to speak quite different versions of the same language, and yet we seem to have arrived at the same conclusion.’
‘What does that mean?’ asked Darling, as she turned into the police station car park.
‘It means, Darling, that we have agreed we know nothing, and we have no bloody idea where this kid might be.’
‘What now, then?’
‘Now, we write up our reports, make sure we’ve not missed anything, and then we go home and try to sleep. Then, tomorrow morning we come back at six to meet up with an expert search coordinator. At first light, the search will begin, with sniffer dogs and as many bodies as we can rustle up, and we pray we find her alive.’
‘Shouldn’t we stay all night?’ she asked. ‘It doesn’t seem right going home while she’s still missing.’
‘Should I stay or should I go?’ said Slater. ‘The words of a great song and also the words of a great dilemma. I understand what you mean, and I know it seems counter intuitive to go home, but you have to ask yourself: how well do you function on zero sleep? Is it your duty to keep going until you drop, becoming less efficient by the hour, or is it your duty to make sure you’re rested enough to be working as efficiently as possible, for as much of the time as possible?’
Darling didn’t look convinced, so Slater tried again.
‘There are already plenty of people out looking for her tonight. We need to make sure we’re ready for what tomorrow might bring.’
Darling nodded her head slowly and Slater thought perhaps he’d got through to her. He was impressed, though, by her dedication. He wasn’t sure what to make of he, but at least she was passionate.
‘I’ve never had to deal with one of these missing kid cases before,’ she said, suddenly.<
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Slater gently patted her shoulder.
‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘It’s shit, isn’t it? I’m not going to say don’t let it get to you, because it will, and you can’t prevent it, unless there’s something wrong with you. Let’s just hope this will be your first, and your last.’ He opened his car door. ‘Come on, let’s get on. Maybe she’s turned up and we can all go home and sleep.’
But they both knew she hadn’t turned up. The airwaves would have been full of it if she had.
It was almost eleven by the time Darling climbed into her car to drive home. What a day, she thought, I’m going to be lucky to get five hours’ sleep. And what about Slater? What was he all about? Goodnews had promised he was good fun to work with, she hadn’t said anything about him being depressed. Hashtag: shit first day.
Chapter 4
Slater had been rather surprised that Goodnews hadn’t been around when they got back yesterday, but she had made up for it by being there when he arrived at five forty-five this morning. He found her in the incident room, taking in all the information that was posted on the white boards that had been set up yesterday.
‘I’m sorry I wasn’t here yesterday evening,’ she said.
‘I don’t think there was anything you could have done.’
‘No, I see that.’ She indicated the boards.
‘Basically we’ve drawn a complete blank,’ Slater said. ‘And, if I’m honest, I’m not optimistic about how this is going to turn out.’
‘It’s not looking good, is it? How’s Darling getting on?’
‘It’s a baptism of fire. She’s not had to deal with one of these before.’
‘Is she coping?’ Goodnews stared at the picture of Chrissy that was pinned on the whiteboard.
‘So far.’
‘She’s tough. She’ll manage.’
‘She’s pretty spiky, isn’t she?’ said Slater.
‘Aye,’ agreed Goodnews. ‘And though she be but little, she is fierce.’
‘Perhaps Shakespeare met her in a previous life,’ he said, recognising the quote.
‘You know Shakespeare?’ Goodnews raised an eyebrow at him.
‘That surprised you, didn’t it?’ Slater grinned. ‘I’m not a total philistine, you know.’
‘So there is some culture in there somewhere, just waiting to be set free,’ she said, returning his smile.
‘I suppose I just haven’t found anyone who can tap into it yet.’
She held his gaze for just a moment, and started to open her mouth, but then the doors burst opeB and the moment was gone, leaving Slater wondering what it was she had been about to say.
As Darling crashed through the doors, she appeared to be in the middle of a rather expansive yawn, which would have taken a very large hand to cover. Being a small person, with only small hands, she hadn’t bothered.
‘Good grief, Naomi,’ said Goodnews. ‘Cover that up! Someone will fall in.’
‘Sorry, boss,’ said Darling, as she hastily tried to cover her mouth, but it was a case of much too little, and much too late. She looked at Slater. ‘Any news?’
‘Nothing. I’m afraid Chrissy is still missing. Let’s just hope a search will find her safe and sound. We’ve got a search coordinator, sniffer dogs, God knows how many officers, and loads of volunteers. I’ve also arranged for uniforms to be at the school gates just in case anyone remembers anything from yesterday afternoon.’
‘Do you think there will be many kids at school today?’ asked Goodnews.
‘I dunno,’ said Slater. ‘The headmistress isn’t quite sure what to expect, but she felt the school should be open as normal, so we’ll just have to see what happens.’
‘I want you two to stay back here and be ready to move just as soon as they find anything. And remember I told you I was getting someone to work as a researcher?’
‘You mean your civilian who won’t know procedure?’ Slater rubbed his temples. This was the last thing they needed at a time like this.
Goodnews smiled.
‘Aye, that’s the one. Well, he’ll be starting this morning.’
Slater raised his eyebrows and sighed.
‘Oh great,’ he said. ‘As if we don’t have enough on our plates, you expect us to nursemaid a new guy.’
‘You’ll be fine,’ said Goodnews.
‘Yeah, Boss, but-’ began Slater.
‘Just stop complaining, and trust me. I know what I’m doing. Right?’
Slater knew better than to argue, but he didn’t see how this could be anything but a problem looming on the horizon.
At first light, the search began. Six teams, each led by a dog and handler, began a systematic search. Stage one was going to cover the town and surrounding area as far as two miles out. A helicopter droned overhead as it set about sweeping the area from the air. Surely if she was out there somewhere, they would find her.
Darling had never been part of such an investigation before, and she was impatient as she waited for some sort of development. Then, at eight o’clock, Slater was informed the uniformed officers covering the school gates had been approached by a lone parent who thought she had some information that could help them. Darling was quickly dispatched to bring her back to the station. Maybe this was going to be the breakthrough they needed.
An hour later, they knew Chrissy had definitely been waiting at the gate. The witness knew this for a fact because her own daughter had walked down to the gate with Chrissy and said goodbye to her. This confirmed what they had already figured out, which was good to know, but in itself wasn’t particularly helpful. However, the woman was also quite sure she had seen a man hanging around the school gates, and she was pretty sure he wasn’t a parent. Darling felt a surge of excitement, but also a jolt of trepidation. It could prove to be a vital breakthrough in finding out where Chrissy Morrison was, but the implications as to what else it could mean were not lost on her.
Darling sat as their witness described the man to the artist. It felt like time was going backwards, and the minute the drawing was finished, she snatched it and rushed back to the incident room, where Slater and Goodnews were waiting.
‘Any news?’ she asked, hopefully, as she came through the doors.
Slater shook his head.
‘Zilch.’
Although Darling had never been on a case like this before, she was painfully aware that with every passing minute, the balance of probability leaned more and more towards finding a body.
‘My mum used to say no news is good news,’ she said, gloomily, as she walked towards them, ‘but then, she hadn’t seen the statistics about missing kids.’
She placed the drawing on the desk so they could all see it. Slater and Goodnews leaned over to get a better look. It was vague to say the least.
‘Jesus,’ said Slater. ‘This could be anyone you like.’
‘It’s not brilliant, is it?’ said Darling.
‘Think about it,’ said Goodnews. ‘Harassed mum, collecting her kid from school, other parents and other kids all over the place. We’re lucky she even noticed a stranger. We can hardly expect her to have photographic recall, now can we?’
She stepped away from the table and went over to the large map pinned up on the wall.
‘Yeah, but this could just as easily be me!’ said Slater, in exasperation.
‘It’s better than nothing,’ said Goodnews.
‘Yeah, I suppose you’re right,’ said Slater, ‘and it’s all we’ve got right now. Naomi, make some copies, please, and get them distributed. Get someone to make sure all the parents see it at the gates this afternoon. It might not be very accurate but it could be enough to trigger someone’s memory.’
‘Right,’ said Darling, surprised but also quietly pleased that Slater had used her Christian name for the first time. ‘I’ll do it straight away. All this hanging around is doing my head in anyway.’
‘She seems to be finding it a bit tough this morning,’ Slater said, as he joined Goodnews in front of the map.
‘It’s all the waiting around for something to happen,’ said Goodnews. ‘On top of that, we all know what we’re probably going to find, but none of us wants to say it out loud. I know how she feels. It’s doing my head in, and I’ve done it before, several times.’
‘It doesn’t get any easier, does it?’ said Slater.
‘Definitely not,’ she said. ‘If anything, it gets worse.’
There was a loud thump as someone backed into the doors. Slater looked around in alarm, just in time to see what appeared to be a large, wide body, wearing a seriously creased suit, stumbling backwards through the doors. The body was topped with wild, crazy hair. As the man cleared the doors, he turned around and they could see why he had come in backwards. He was carrying a tray laden with coffees and an enormous plate of cakes. It took a second for Slater to process what he was seeing.
‘Norm!’ cried Slater. ‘What are you doing here? I thought you weren’t coming back.’
His mind reeled. What was Norman doing here? Obviously he was back at work, but he hadn’t made the slightest effort to get fit, so how could he be back at work? Goodnews had made it very clear he couldn’t come back unless he got fit. What was it she had said? There was no room for Mr Roly-Poly. So what was he doing here, then? And then the penny dropped.
‘This is our new civilian, right?’ He turned to Goodnews, who was looking like the cat who had got the cream.
‘Detective Sergeant Slater, meet Mr Norman, our new researcher. Mr Norman, this is Detective Sergeant Slater. He’s heading the investigation I would like you to work on.’
Norman beamed at Slater, put his tray down, and held his hand out.
‘I used to work with a guy called Slater,’ he said. ‘He was a bit head-strong, but apart from that I guess he was okay.’
‘That’s funny,’ said Slater, taking Norman’s hand and pumping it hard. ‘I used to work with a guy called Norman. He was a right pain in the arse.’
Norman laughed.
‘I bet he was full of good advice, though, right?’