by Ed James
A hand gripped Hunter’s bicep, tightening around the muscle. Bloody sore. He swung round.
Sharon McNeill stood there, eyebrows to the heavens, bunching up the skin on her forehead. ‘Well?’
‘Got to go, Finlay.’ Hunter killed the Airwave call and gave McNeill a grim smile. ‘Sorry, ma’am. There’s no sign of her out here.’
Lauren was back at the turning, looking like she was going to strangle someone. Someone with the surname Sinclair.
‘We checked the rear entrance. Nothing there, either.’ McNeill let out a sigh and leaned against an empty bus stop. ‘This is a disaster.’
‘She can’t just have disappeared, ma’am.’
McNeill raised her eyebrows even higher. ‘You think I don’t know that, Constable?’
‘No, ma’am. Sorry.’
Lauren got between them, eyes like headlights on full beam. ‘We can do all the arse-kicking we want later, ma’am, but right now, we need to find the girl.’
‘Don’t disagree.’ McNeill twisted her neck to take in the full panorama of the car park. ‘We can discuss your officer’s failings at a later point.’
‘She’s not in immediate danger.’ Hunter stuck his thumbs in his vest. Felt better that way. ‘Her stepfather’s in custody.’
‘At least you’re doing something right, I suppose.’ McNeill did a slow one eighty across the car park. ‘Assuming he’s not got an army of his mates out putting frighteners into Steph.’
‘Terrific.’ Hunter tightened his grip around the stab-proof vest straps and huffed out a sharp breath. ‘Hadn’t thought of that.’
‘Before we start running around like blue-arsed flies, I want to be abundantly clear.’ McNeill locked eyes with Lauren. ‘Most disappearances are resolved within forty-eight hours. I don’t think this is a usual case.’
‘Me neither.’ Hunter did another visual sweep of the terrain, still nothing. ‘I was worried she’d killed herself. Still am.’
McNeill’s eyes burnt into Hunter, like he knew where she’d gone. ‘Why?’
‘Only thing I can think of is she got freaked out by us telling her mother that we had no physical evidence.’
‘So she thought her stepfather would get off?’ McNeill rubbed bony fingers into her eyes. ‘Sure that’s all?’
‘I can’t thin—’
‘That’s all for now.’ Lauren’s turn to grab Hunter’s arm. He felt like a male stripper at a hen do. Not for the first time. ‘We need a plan of attack here. DI McNeill, as ranking officer, do you—’
‘No need to be sarcastic, Sergeant.’ McNeill nodded at DS Jain who was approaching from the hospital entrance. ‘First things first, Lauren. You and I are going to square this off with DI Buchan and our superiors. We’re going to need budget and support to find this girl.’
‘Agreed.’
‘Next.’ McNeill raised her hand and twirled her finger through a quick three sixty. ‘I want someone getting hold of the CCTV round the hospital. Council should have it.’
‘I’ll get Finlay Sinclair on that.’ Lauren unclipped her Airwave from her jacket. ‘I’ve got a unit heading to the house, but that’s assuming she’ll go back there.’
‘Good work.’
‘I’ve got another six units on their way here, but she’s got at least five minutes on us.’
‘Okay, okay.’ McNeill stopped by Jain and nodded at Hunter. ‘Chantal, can you and PC Hunter have a word with the mother and see if she’s got any friends we can chase up?’
The Airwave crackled again. ‘That’s still a negative from the house, Sergeant. Over.’
‘Okay, thanks.’ Jain stopped outside the family room and pocketed her Airwave. Her turn to grip Hunter’s bicep. Just need to stick a pair of socks down the front of some sequinned budgie smugglers, find a stage, get an agent. At this rate, I’ll be quitting the day job in… She stared straight into his eyes. ‘I’m leading here, okay?’
Hunter shrugged her off. ‘You’re the Sergeant.’
Jain took a step back and planted her fists on her hips, glaring at him like an Exocet about to go off. ‘Right…’ She opened the door and entered, a remorseful smile plastered on her face. ‘I’m afraid we’ve got some ba—’
‘I know she’s run off.’ Pauline was slumped at the table, brushing her hands through her hair. ‘What I want to know is what the hell you lot are doing to find her? Eh?’
Jain stood in the space between Pauline and Ailsa, hands deep in her pockets. ‘We’re doing everything we can, Mrs Ferguson.’
‘Don’t. Call. Me. That!’
‘Sorry.’ Jain winced, her smile slipping for a few seconds. ‘We’ve got four units—’
‘How could you let this happen?’
Ailsa patted her arm. ‘Shhhh, it’s okay, Pauline.’ Her hair gleamed in the light, piggy eyes darting between Jain and Hunter. ‘They’ll find her.’ She looked at Hunter, more of a threat than a glance. ‘Right?’
‘Of course we will.’ Jain rubbed her hands together. ‘Our best officers are out looking for her.’
‘You need to find her. She’s only a lassie!’ Ailsa’s gaze settled on Jain, like she’d spotted her for the first time. ‘Who are you, by the way?’
‘Detective Sergeant Chantal Jain, ma’am.’
‘So this is your fault?’
‘I’m accepting full responsibility, yes. We’re doing everything we can to find Mrs F— to find Stephanie.’ Jain crouched near the coffee table, locking eyes with Pauline. ‘Do you have any idea why Stephanie might’ve run away?’
‘Are you stupid?’ Pauline sniffed, then ran the back of her hand across her nose. ‘It’s this stuff with Doug.’
‘Mr Ferguson’s in custody just now, so he’s no threat to her.’ Hunter watched Pauline for any signs. Her hands shook like an arthritic alcoholic, making her brass bangle rattle. ‘Has she ever done anything like this before?’
‘She’s a good girl.’
‘Is it possible Stephanie would contemplate suicide?’
‘What? Suicide? Steph?’
‘Is it possible?’
Pauline folded her arms tight across her chest, her sleeves rolling up. ‘Not possible.’
‘Are you sure there’s nothing else that could’ve—?’
‘What?’ Pauline’s eyes were back on fire. Seemed like an inferno was raging in her mind. ‘It’s this shite with Doug, you stupid Pa—’
Jain jolted to her feet and gripped Pauline’s wrist. ‘Be careful what you say.’
Pauline pushed her hand away. ‘I’m sorry, all right? This is just…’ She exhaled.
Jain gestured at her bare wrist, where the ring of purple bruises was still coiling round her skin. ‘Where did you get those bruises?’
Pauline tugged her sleeve down and stared at her painted nails. ‘I got my hand jammed in a door…’
Like I believe that. Last time she said it was her daughter.
Hunter clenched his jaw and switched his gaze to Ailsa. ‘Did you notice anything unusual when you arrived?’
‘Didn’t see nothing. Well, other than that cop pissing about on his phone.’
Jain closed her eyes. ‘When was this?’
‘Just when I turned up. That doctor was in with Steph and he was playing a game.’
‘Did you see anyone outside?’ Jain opened her eyes again. ‘Anyone you might’ve recognised from your street? Or school, maybe.’
‘Lots of people. It’s a big place. The car park’s full…’ Ailsa shook her head and sighed. ‘Here, I’m still paying through the bloody nose for parking as it is…’
Hunter got between the two women. ‘Do you know where she could’ve gone?’
Pauline grabbed a tight hold of Ailsa’s arm. ‘What about Neil?’
Jain’s thin eyebrow coiled up, lining her forehead. ‘Neil’s the boyfriend, right?’
Hunter tried for a reassuring nod. Didn’t look like it worked. ‘He’s on our radar. We’ve got a unit trying to pick him up just now.’
&nb
sp; ‘Good work.’ Jain nodded at Hunter, her eyes saying “Lying bastard”. She shifted her glare to Pauline. ‘Does Stephanie have any close friends?’
‘The only one I can think of is this lassie called Olivia Pearce.’ Pauline started fidgeting with a tissue, kneading the damp paper over and over. ‘Steph does Maths coaching with her every Tuesday. Supposed to be there tonight.’
Not much, but worth a try.
‘Have you got an address for her?’
9
‘Come on, come on.’ Hunter kicked down to second and blared past the queuing traffic on Duddingston Road, just a single white Range Rover sticking its arse out into the road. He swerved around it, getting a honk and a pair of palms in response.
Cheeky bastard.
‘Going to slow down a bit?’
Hunter glanced over at Jain, pouting like she was on the cover of Vogue. ‘Seriously?’
‘Seriously. This isn’t a blues and twos situation.’ She hit a key on her Airwave and held it out, static crackling. ‘Control, this is DS Chantal Jain. Any movement at the house in Mountcastle?’
‘Still a negative.’
‘Thought so.’ She rolled her eyes at Hunter. Felt like the ice was cracking, if only a fraction. ‘Can I get an update on the whereabouts of Neil Alexander?’
‘Still struggling with that, lass. You any idea how many Neil Alexanders there are in Edinburgh? Got units out at all five teenagers with that name, both spellings of Neil. Want me to get onto the adults?’
‘No, let’s leave it at that for now. Thanks again.’ She pocketed her Airwave. ‘Bloody useless.’
Hunter bumped over a sleeping policeman by the High School’s old tower, nine storeys of sixties hell. ‘My alma mater there.’
Jain looked up from her Airwave. ‘Your what?’
‘I grew up here. Few streets over.’
‘Right. I’m a Corstorphine girl. Much of a muchness, right?’
‘Too right.’ Hunter swerved around the bend, getting a clear run at the lights and powering under the railway bridge, his speed deterring the Lexus from chancing it. ‘Building a replacement up by the Jewel.’ He thumbed to the right, past the mansions of Brighton Place, all neatly laid out in a half-moon. ‘Be very strange—’
‘Craig.’ Jain stabbed her finger on the screen of her Airwave and dumped it on the dashboard. ‘Give me peace for a minute, would you?’
Hunter sprayed through the wave of traffic thinning out like the Red Sea. ‘Sorry, Sarge.’
Jain let out a sigh as he swung right onto Portobello High Street, her thumbs beating an impatient rhythm on the screen of her personal mobile. ‘You don’t have to Sarge me.’
‘Is Chantal okay?’
‘It’s fine.’
‘Okay, then. Sorry, Chantal.’ Hunter took the next left, a long row of villas blocked off from Portobello promenade by a row of Victorian flats overlooking the sea.
A short red-haired man walked hand-in-hand with a woman who was at least another foot shorter. Looked like a woman, anyway.
Hunter trundled down the road and pulled in on a free space. ‘Here we go.’
Jain got out of the car first, stuffing her phone into her pocket.
Hunter joined her on the pavement, the harsh wind blowing sand in his eyes as he stuck his cap on. ‘Christ, you forget how windy it is here.’
‘I don’t.’ Jain looked back up the street, frowning at a drum kit in a lower-ground window. She wandered over to the flat door and knocked. ‘And I’m still leading, okay?’
The door creaked open and a short girl looked out. Bookish, thick glasses, the same purple gymslip Stephanie had worn earlier. Her eyes flicked over to Hunter’s uniform. ‘Aye?’
‘DS Chantal Jain and Constable Craig Hunter.’ Jain moved up to the second-top step, warrant card out. Face like she meant business. ‘We’re looking for an Olivia Pearce.’
The girl swallowed. ‘That’s me.’
Jain nodded and climbed the last step. ‘Can we come in?’
‘What’s this about?’
‘We need to do this inside, if that’s okay?’
‘Aye, sure.’ Olivia led through a dark hall to an even darker kitchen. Yellow melamine cabinets with brass handles. Pots and pans hung from an extractor housing. She jumped up and sat on the edge of the wooden worktop. Swung her legs back and forth.
A large wooden dining table sat in the middle of the room, covered in jotters and textbooks. Looked like at least two people working there. She shrugged.
‘Are your parents in?’
‘Be back home soon.’
‘Okay, Olivia, we’re looking for Stephanie Ferguson.’ Hunter took the seat nearest the door. Had a slight wobble to it. ‘Have you seen her today?’
‘Saw Steph this morning. She wasn’t at school this afternoon, though.’
‘That happen a lot?’
‘Not with Steph. Her mum’s a nightmare. She’d kill her if she bunked off school.’ Olivia held up her smartphone, pretty much the same model Finlay had been playing with. ‘I sent her a Facebook message. Got nothing back.’
‘You were close with her, right?’
‘Why’d you say “were”?’ Olivia’s legs stopped kicking. ‘Has something happened?’
‘I mean are.’ Hunter smiled at the girl. ‘You are close, right?’
Olivia made a love-heart shape with her fingers and thumbs. ‘Pretty much BFFs.’
‘So she talked to you about stuff, right?’
‘Totes. Justin Bieber, though she’s gone off him. One Direction.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘Kim Kardashian.’
‘I meant personal stuff.’
‘Isn’t that personal?’
‘Look, she ran away this afternoon.’ Hunter rested his elbows on the wood and cracked his knuckles. ‘Do you have any idea where she’d go?’
Olivia nudged her glasses up her nose. ‘Home?’
‘She’s not there.’
A toilet flushed and a door opened off the hall. Footsteps marched through, stopping dead at the kitchen door. A plump woman in her late twenties frowned at Hunter, then at Jain. Dark hair tied in a ponytail, chunky glasses filling her face. ‘What’s going on, Olivia?’
‘Ms Tait, the police are looking for Steph.’
Jain flipped open her warrant card and slid it across the table. ‘I’m DS Jain and this is Constable Hunter.’
‘Call me Gaynor.’ She didn’t even look at the card, just dropped onto the chair opposite, the metal crunching. She patted Olivia on the arm. ‘Can you make us all a cup of tea?’
‘Aye, sure.’
Gaynor watched Olivia trudge over to the sink and start filling the kettle. Eyes back on Jain, leaning in close. ‘What’s happened to Stephanie?’
‘She’s run away.’
‘That explains why she didn’t turn up tonight…’ Gaynor raised an eyebrow as she put a smartphone in her handbag. She waved around at the mess on the table. ‘I’m supposed to be coaching Olivia and Stephanie some Maths on the side. Earn a few extra quid. Got a mortgage to pay, you know?’
Hunter took the nod from Jain as instruction to lead. ‘How well do you know Stephanie?’
‘Hard to say. How well can you really know kids these days?’ Gaynor’s eyebrows flicked up as the tap hissed on in the background. ‘I’m her registration teacher. Last time I saw her was this morning.’ She frowned, her teeth grinding over her bottom lip. ‘I got a note from the school office saying she’d not returned from lunch. They said they were dealing with it, though.’
Hunter looked out of the tall windows at the back, couldn’t avoid the thousand yard stare at the long beach leading out to the sea. When Jain cleared her throat, he refocused his attention on Gaynor. ‘You haven’t received a text from her or anything?’
‘Like I said, we weren’t that close. Kids these days are always on their phones, but it’s not something I get involved in.’
‘Did she ever confide in you about anything?’
Gaynor swallowed,
gaze flashing between the two of them. ‘Anything in particular?’
Jain crunched forward in her chair. ‘Stephanie told her mother her stepfather’s been abusing her.’
‘Dear God.’ Gaynor’s eyes glazed over as she lifted a trembling hand to her glasses and dropped them onto the table. The kettle started hissing behind them. A teaspoon clanked against a cup. ‘Jesus Christ.’
‘Have you noticed any signs of abuse?’
‘No… Jesus.’ Gaynor put her specs back on and glanced behind her at Olivia, safe in the peaceful ritual of tea preparation. ‘We’re trained to look for it and raise anything. And I mean anything. But I didn’t detect anything with Steph. I would’ve called it in if there’d been even the slightest sign.’
Anything, three times? Code red…
Hunter cleared his throat, catching Gaynor’s attention. ‘Are you sure about that?’
‘Why, don’t you think I care?’
‘I’m not saying you don’t care, it’s just your language… The way you phrased—’
‘Look, I’ve had kids in abusive situations before, okay?’ Gaynor spoke with her eyes closed, like she was recounting some old horror. ‘I know what I’m looking for, believe me.’
Hunter stared at her for a few seconds, trying to get the measure of her. Didn’t seem to be lying. Couldn’t see any reason she would. ‘What’s Stephanie like?’
‘She’s a good kid. Smarter than most here. She did really well in her Standard Grades. Think she’ll do okay in her Highers.’
‘Just okay?’
‘She’s only just started.’
‘But she’s slipping behind?’
‘Why do you say that?’
‘Well, she went from really well to okay. And apparently she’s in need of coaching.’
‘She’s not been as focused since the summer.’ Gaynor rubbed her forehead. ‘Shite, it’s the abuse, isn’t it?’
‘It’s supposed to have been going on for a while. Did you know?’
‘Oh my God…’ Gaynor brushed away a tear. ‘No. No, I told you I didn’t know.’
‘Can you think of any other teachers she’d speak to?’
‘None spring to mind.’
Hunter gave her a slow nod. ‘Do you have any idea where she could’ve gone?’