The Death of Me

by Natalie Hames

“Grace,” he shouted loudly into the darkness, all fear of imaginary ghouls now gone. “Grace, if you’re in there, it’s your dad.”

  When no reply came, Tom stormed through the undergrowth. Twigs snapped beneath his perfectly polished brogues, thorns caught and pulled threads on his trousers as he desperately shone the mediocre light over the ground.

  “Where are you?” he shouted, ignoring the rustles of the nocturnal wildlife.

  “Maybe she just dropped her watch and is sat at home hoping her mother won’t notice. Maybe that’s why she’s late?”

  He tried to allow the inner voice of reason to calm his frantic behaviour but underneath he already knew he was fooling himself. Rushing from the undergrowth, trampling down ferns, brambles and bushes, he stumbled back out onto the pathway unaware of the twigs placed in a cross as he disturbed their careful arrangement. He broke into a run, retracing the route home, not stopping until he reached the front of the house. Julie’s car had gone from the drive.

  “She must be home,” he gasped. “Julie’s taken Elspeth to the recital.”

  The curtains were closed, just a faint chink of light breaking through at the top where they met in the middle. Everything looked normal and calm, and he convinced himself Grace would be safe inside. Tom collected himself for a moment. Relief enveloped him, quickly turning to annoyance towards Grace for causing so much worry as he strode down the side of the house. The kitchen light illuminated the path, spilling over onto the frosted lawn and he glanced through the window as he passed on his way to the back door.

  “Bet she’s upstairs in her bedroom keeping out of the way,” he chuntered under his breath, pressing down the handle on the door only to find it locked.

  “Bloody hell,” he grumbled as he pulled back his coat and rummaged in his trouser pocket for the key. “Bloody kids, I swear one day they’ll be the death of me.”

  The eerie silence which had been his shadow on the search filled the kitchen as he entered and took off his shoes.

  “Hello?” he called, but no reply came.

  Then he noticed the note with the words ‘Gone to your daughter’s recital!’ etched hard onto the pad on the kitchen table. He tore off the note in disbelief as the realisation Grace had not arrived home hit him with a second, and more breath-taking wave. It wouldn’t be out of character for Julie to carry on her plans with Elspeth and he filled with anger and resentment.

  “She’s so bloody selfish sometimes,” he hissed, screwing up the piece of paper and throwing it across the room.

  He sprang into action, hurrying through the living room to the hallway where they kept the telephone and dialled the school’s number. Grace had never received a detention but there was always a first time and despite her abandoned watch disputing the theory, he had to check. After a brief call and the school secretary confirming she had left at the usual time, a pressure squeezed tight on his chest. He dialled again, this time just three numbers.

  “Police, please.”

  Chapter Five

  When Julie returned from the recital with Elspeth the police had already arrived. She had assumed Grace would be home by the time they got back and the sight of the police cars parked on the roadside took her by surprise. She parked up in the driveway and shot inside the house, leaving Elspeth to follow.

  “What’s happened? Is she okay?” she blurted out to the police constable making notes in his incident book as she flew into the living room.

  “She’s not back,” Tom answered sharply, trying to hide his annoyance towards her for going to the recital.

  “You must be Mrs Dalton?” the constable asked. “I’m Detective Sergeant Jason Cook and this is my colleague Detective Constable Philip Harris, please take a seat so I can ask you some questions.”

  Julie slowly lowered herself onto the sofa, remaining perched on the edge, bewildered by the whole scene.

  “When was the last time you saw Grace?”

  “This morning, before she left for school. She left about quarter past eight,” Julie replied, wringing her hands together as they rested on her lap.

  “And did she appear to be okay? Was she behaving differently or had there been any arguments?”

  Julie looked back into her memories and tried to replay the events in the house earlier. A cold sweat flushed over her as the recollection of Grace slamming out of the door and their last words burst into her consciousness.

  “She…” Julie said, her voice trembling. “She left in a huff.”

  “What kind of huff? Had there been a row?” DS Cook continued.

  Julie fidgeted as the details of the morning rushed back and her eyes flicked over to Elspeth now sat on the floor at the side of her father.

  “Nothing much, just siblings exchanging words,” she replied, casually brushing it off.

  DS Cook turned his focus onto Elspeth.

  “Have you anything to add to that?”

  She tensed, her body language changing from innocence to defence as she straightened her back and bristled, then shook her head.

  “Mr Dalton said this is out of character for Grace to be gone this length of time. Why did you go out this evening knowing your daughter wasn’t home and he was out looking for her?”

  Julie searched for words to explain her actions. She knew how bad it must appear and embarrassment caused an awkward silence for a moment while she thought of what to say.

  “I…I guess I just thought she’d be back. Where’s he going?”

  Julie sparked as Phil left the room, his footsteps thudding as he made his way up the stairs and across the landing towards Grace’s bedroom.

  “But according to Mr Dalton, disappearing is out of character?”

  DS Cook ignored her question and continued on his line of inquiry, his statement triggered Julie’s defences and she stood up from the sofa.

  “What are you implying?” she hissed, her hands placed on her hips. “And where’s that officer gone?”

  DS Cook realised his questioning had hit a nerve and so gestured for her to sit back down in a calming motion with his hand.

  “I’m just trying to get a picture of what’s happened, that’s all. I’m not implying anything. Detective Harris is checking to see if there are any signs your daughter has run away. Clothes missing, that kind of thing.”

  He closed his incident book, placed it back into the inside pocket of his coat and stood from his seat.

  “I’ll need a recent photo if you have one?” he asked Mr Dalton who sprung up and reached straight for Grace’s last school photo sitting on the mantelpiece.

  “It was taken about four months ago,” he said, handing it over.

  Jason took it from him then excused himself while he went upstairs to join Phil.

  “Anything?” he said, entering Grace’s bedroom and carefully looking around without touching anything.

  Phil shook his head. Up until today, Tom Dalton had just been an unspoken name, a ghost within his marriage and the root cause for much of the tension between himself and Katherine. A spike of adrenaline had surged through him when his name had come through on their radio and he had been eager to see him first hand.

  “Nope, nothing obvious. Clothes seem to all be here and there’s the right amount of toothbrushes in the bathroom.”

  “Did you notice the state of the dad’s clothes and shoes?” Jason whispered. “It looks a bit fishy to me. I mean, why would he find her watch in Greenwich Park and why look there?”

  The corners of Phil’s mouth turned downwards as he tried to think of a logical explanation which would explain Mr Dalton’s story of events.

  “I think we should radio through and take him in for questioning. Get forensics to run some tests on his clothes,” Jason suggested.

  “I agree,” Phil replied assertively, trying to disguise his urge to study Tom further.

  One of the lowest parts of Phil’s career since joining the force had been when he overlooked a vital stage of the investigative process for a missing girl. A s
lip which caused an inquiry to drag on for two years and received harsh criticism by the press and public. A slip which had cost him dearly and lost him a much-coveted promotion, seeing him overtaken by Jason for the position of Detective Sergeant.

  “I’m going to radio through and get the forensic team on it. Maybe he’s innocent, but the sooner we can eliminate him, the better.”

  Tom, Julie and Elspeth remained in the living room listening to the creaks from the floorboards in Grace’s room overhead. The atmosphere was tense and heavy with no one uttering a word or making any eye contact for fear of giving away their true feelings toward each other, until the detectives returned and broke the silence.

  “What’s going to happen next?” Julie asked, crouched on the floor with her arms wrapped around Elspeth. “Are you going to do a search?”

  Phil handed her a card then inserted the photograph of Grace into a thin manila file.

  “We’ll need Mr Dalton to come to the station with us now to give a full statement.”

  He touched the edge of his hat and prompted Tom to follow him to the door.

  “Is that it? Aren’t you going to get a search team out with dogs, knock on doors and arrest people?”

  Phil maintained his composure, resisting the urge to defend the criticism and reveal any of the resentment he harboured toward Tom. Inside he wanted to ask her why she was suddenly so concerned when she clearly hadn’t been bothered earlier.

  “We’re in the early stages of the inquiry at the moment but as Mr Dalton found her watch we need to assume she’s been abducted. Please try to remain calm,” he said assertively, his face softening into a gentle smile which diffused the situation.

  Julie stepped back, nodding humbly as she placed an arm around Elspeth’s shoulder.

  “Thank you,” she whispered, and the first sign of tears sparkled in her dark brown eyes.

  “I know it’s a worrying time,” he replied as he watched her standoffish demeanour shrink away. “We will do our best to bring her home.”

  Tom got up from his chair and put on his coat, brushing off pieces of twigs and thorns from the arms. The wool blend trousers were full of snags and small tears and his fine Italian leather brogues covered in mud.

  “I think I ought to quickly change,” he said, gesturing down at his clothes.

  “No, forensics might need them,” Phil replied, ushering him out of the door to avoid any further questions.

  Mr Dalton didn’t seem the kind of man who would harm anyone but experience had taught him not to make assumptions in cases of missing children. For the next few hours, Mr Dalton would be classed as a person of interest.

  Once at the station, Jason showed Tom to an interview room while Phil made him a cup of tea. The outline of DCI Mick Burns was visible through the frosted glass of his office and Phil tapped lightly on the door and went inside, sitting down on the chair opposite while Mick finished his phone call.

  “So, there’s a missing girl?” he asked, hanging up the phone and looking at the notes on his desk.

  “Yes Sir, the father’s in interview room six, now.”

  Mick sat back in his chair and observed him for a moment. His expression was unreadable but Phil knew exactly what was running through his mind.

  “What made you decide to do that, then? Missing persons aren’t officially registered for forty-eight hours.”

  Phil felt a tightness form in his throat. Since his error on the Fletcher case, Mick had questioned his every move.

  “I realise that, Sir. But the parents report that it’s out of character and—“

  “They all say that,” Mick interrupted. “Look, I know you’re trying to be extra vigilant after what happened but you can’t just drag people in and take up resources every time a child goes missing.”

  “I realise that Sir, but this case is different. The father found his daughter’s watch in Greenwich Park after he went looking for her.”

  “And?” Mick asked, sceptically.

  “Well, DS Cook and I thought it was strange he should find the watch, Sir. I mean, Greenwich Park is a big place and yet somehow he managed to find a wrist watch in the dark. His clothes are torn and shoes muddied up.”

  Mick let out a sigh and stared down at the notes on his table while he considered his reply.

  “Okay, you have a point. On the face of it, it does seem irregular. Have you cautioned him yet?”

  Phil shook his head. “No, Sir. DS Cook wanted me to check with you first.”

  “Caution him, but don’t go in heavy handed. Not every father is an Anthony Fletcher.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  Phil left the office and strode back to where Tom was waiting in the interview room. A weight had lifted from his shoulders as the relief of making the right decision had been backed by his superior ranking officer. When he arrived at the observation room, Jason was already in the room watching Tom through the mirrored glass as forensics bagged his clothes and took samples from beneath his fingernails.

  “I’ve already cautioned him,” Jason said when Phil arrived. “I’m just observing until DCI Burns arrives. He’ll be taking over the questioning.”

  Phil prickled as he realised it had been Jason on the phone with Mick when he had reported to him, and had already had it authorised. A feeling of being set up to look foolish and incompetent by Jason clutched his stomach and gave its familiar twist. Unable to proceed further he resigned himself to observing Tom, his face now drained of colour while he shivered with shock as he stood on a paper sheet having his clothes carefully bagged.

  A sudden swirl of air gushed around the room as DCI Burns entered and Phil felt his shoulders straighten in a reflex action.

  “Right. I want you to take a team of forensics and oversee a search of the area in Greenwich Park where the watch was found,” Mick said, looking straight at Phil.

  Adrenaline flushed around his body at the sound of the instruction. To be assigned to oversee a search was a big step towards being trusted and the griping feeling of being viewed as incompetent was immediately replaced with hope.

  “Right away, Sir. I’ll get the area cordoned off and gather the team.”

  Phil left the room straight away and Jason glanced over to Mick with a faint frown of concern.

  “Do you think that’s a good idea, Sir?”

  Mick let out a faint, sarcastic huff.

  “Leave him to it. Let him feel he’s important if it stops him moping around the office.”

  Chapter Six

  The traffic in front of St Mead’s School was beginning to calm as the clock turned nine and the majority of children had been dropped off. A space on the roadside became available as a Range Rover manoeuvred out into the flow of traffic and Phil swiftly pulled his relatively small Volkswagen Golf into the spot. He opened up his notebook and refreshed himself of the Head Teacher’s name. Jason had instructed him to talk with Mr Richards and get an insight into Grace’s character along with any enemies she may have. It was beneath Jason to join him, describing the task as ‘grunt work’ since his promotion, but the feeling of being away from desk duty surpassed Phil’s resentment.

  Memories of his school years flooded back as the smell of polished floors and mild disinfectant triggered his nostalgia as he stepped through the main entrance. His shoes squeaked on the high sheen, non-slip floor causing him to feel conspicuous as he walked over to the closed glass screen at the reception and pressed the bell. The top of a woman’s head was just visible over a partition within the office. She made no attempt to look over to see who was there and so he tapped gently on the glass. The woman, a large lady with short cropped brown hair and a sour expression, heaved herself up from her chair and approached the partition, sliding back the glass window.

  “Yes,” she snapped, and Phil noticed the remnants of crumbs in the corners of her lips.

  “I’m here to see Mr Richards,” Phil said, mirroring her lack of warmth.

  “Have you got an appointment?”

&nb
sp; “No, but I need to see him—“

  “He’s very busy, you’ll need to make an appointment,” she interrupted.

  Phil felt his frustration start to rise and he pulled out his badge and presented it.

  “Detective Philip Harris. I think you’ll find he has time to discuss the disappearance of one of his students, don’t you?”

  The smug expression slid from her face as her eyes widened at the sight of his badge and she immediately picked up the phone beside her and called through to Mr Richards’ secretary.

  “Bottom of the corridor, turn right and then second left,” she said, leaning out of the window and directing him with hand gestures.

  Phil snapped his badge shut and walked away without giving her another word and followed the corridors until he reached the Head Teacher’s office. He gave the door a quick knock, then opened it without waiting for an answer.

  “Ah, you must be Detective Harris?”

  A young, attractive secretary stood from her chair as Phil entered the room and greeted him with a handshake.

  “Mr Richards is expecting you. Would you follow me, please?”

  She stepped out from behind her desk and Phil’s eyes were drawn to her slim shapely legs and silky blonde hair as she led him over to the Head Teacher’s door and knocked.

  “Detective Harris is here to see you,” she said, popping her head around the door then stepping back and gesturing for Phil to go inside.

  “Thank you.”

  His initial irritations caused by the receptionist’s rude manner melted away as she gave him a gentle smile and he felt his sense of authority return.

  “Come in, come in. Do sit down,” Mr Richards said, obviously flapping at the presence of a detective in his office. “Terrible business, terrible. Has there been any news yet?”

  Mr Richards sat back down in his chair and ran a hand over his shiny smooth scalp, straightening the few tufts of remaining wispy hair along the sides.

  How strange to be sat in a Head Teacher’s office and not feel intimidated.

  Visits to the Head Teacher’s office had always meant he was in some kind of trouble when he had been a boy and usually involved his brother providing him with an alibi to get him off the hook. This time it was him asking the questions and the irony of how the tables had turned inwardly amused him.