Echoes of the Past (9 page)

Tom?

As he descended the stairs, a loud bang came from along the hall. Tom stood at the bottom of the attic staircase. One of the bedroom doors must have blown closed. That meant there was most likely a window left open. Tom went from room to room, making sure everything was locked up and secure. Satisfied of this he went back down stairs to retreat into his study.

*****

Anne and Scott Harrison were not as old as they looked. The loss of their only child over thirty years ago had taken its toll on both of them. The emptiness in the house had never been filled no matter what they did.

Anne,
had as usual, prepared the breakfast. Her husband sat silently reading the paper as he ate. The silence between them had been almost tangible at one time. Now, it was just accepted. She looked across the table at him. She knew she still loved him, but for some reason they had never got past this. They had never moved on. Maybe not knowing what had happened to her was the problem. Anne knew in her heart of hearts that her daughter was gone, but Scott had always held on to the belief that one day she would walk back through that door. The complete opposite positions they both took, meant that there was no compromise and so they never spoke about it, both locked in their own worlds.

Anne
tidied the living room. She wanted to make a good impression on the policeman that was coming. No one had mentioned her daughters case in so many years, this meant that at least one person had not forgotten her.

The
pain in her abdomen cut through her. For a moment, she was bent over waiting for it to pass. She knew what it was. She didn’t need to see Doctor Style. The cancer was back, this time it was in her bladder. No one knew. This was Anne’s secret. It was almost a relief to her, she knew she would finally know the truth, finally see her Angela again. As the pain passed, she straightened up and continued with her chores.

*****

Tom left Lee preparing pancakes for Jess who was still asleep on the sofa. He wanted to get an early start today. Parked the Jeep he walked across to Church street to meet with Mrs Harrison.

Church
Street was just across from the station, only a short walk away. Tom passed the old church. A beautiful design of tower, stained glass and very old brick. Built in 1379 and rebuilt in the seventeen hundreds the building was steeped in history, all of Coppersfield was. The sun bounced off the small brook that ran behind it, by the disused out buildings of the church that had once served as a youth hostel for young people travelling and touring the hillsides and lochs. Just a few houses down from the church was Angela Harrison’s old house.

Tom
rang the bell and a moment later, a woman answered. Mrs Harrison was painfully thin. Her skin had a yellow pallor to it. Her hair was positively white and wispy; a few strands escaping the clasp that pulled it tightly back from her ferret-like face. The woman gave Tom a surprisingly broad smile and then ushered him through the doorway. She led him into a small but neat living room at the front of the house.

Tom
looked around the room. It looked as though time had stood still in the room, nothing had changed in at least twenty years. Pictures of a beautiful blonde girl stood on almost every available surface in the room. Piercing blue eyes and a stunning smile, these pictures showed a girl full of life and fun. Mrs Harrison came into the room with a tray of tea. She put it down on the coffee table and sat down, indicating for Tom to do the same.

“I’m
so pleased you are looking into my Angela again. I was beginning to give up any hope of ever finding the truth about what had happened to her.” Mrs Harrison poured Tom a cup of black tea.

“You
understand, Mrs Harrison, I can’t make any promises. You know I may be retiring soon. I’m only able to investigate up until then and unless I find new leads or evidence, I won’t have the backing of the force, or any of their resources. The case has been cold for a lot of years. I’m just having a look to see if I turn up anything new.”

Anne
Harrison looked at him. Tom could see that Angela had her mothers striking blue eyes.

“Officer
Hunter, no one has mentioned my daughters name in over twenty-five years. The fact that you care enough to even read her file means a lot to me. Now what can I do to help you?”

Tom
felt a sinking feeling in his heart for this woman. She had no hope of bringing her daughter home alive, all she wanted was to bring her home.

“I
have you and your husband’s statements already from the original file. I just want to get a better feel for Angela, as a person.”

“Give
me a moment.” Anne left the room to return momentarily with a small box. “This is some of the things that I found in her room, I gave it to the police at the time, but they were so busy with Patrick that they wouldn’t look anywhere else.” Anne handed it to Tom, it contained a small journal like diary, some photographs of her with Patrick and some with another girl that Tom recognized as Samantha and a couple of letters. He noticed a photo of her with an older man.

“Can
I ask who this is, Mrs Harrison?”

Anne
slipped a pair of glasses on and looked at the photo. “Oh, that’s Jim Watt. He was a very good friend to Angela.”

Tom
looked at the picture again. “He looks a lot older than her.”

“Yes
he was, he’s closer in years to me than he was to Angela, but they weren’t like that, he was just a friend. Jim had horses and Angela loved animals, so he would let her muck out the stables and in return, she could go horse ridding any time she wanted. He still lives on the farm at the top of the lane off Peel Street.”

“Have
you kept in touch with him over the years?”

“Not
really, he comes by on the anniversary of her disappearance, and we’ll have a chat about how much we miss her, but that is about it.”

Tom
took a note of the man’s name and address. “That is a great help, Mrs Harrison.” Tom stood to leave. “I will get Angela’s things back to you as soon as I have finished with them. Is your husband still here?” As Tom walked down the hall, he caught a glimpse of Mr Harrison in the kitchen.

Anne
ushered Tom out the door before whispering to him. “Her father won’t talk about Angela on account that he doesn’t believe that she is dead.” Tom understood what was going on; he had dealt with enough bereaved families over the years to know. Before he walked away Tom took the three pictures of the missing girls out of his wallet and showed them to Mrs Harrison.

“Do
any of these girls look familiar to you?” he asked.

Mrs
Harrison looked at the pictures and shook her head. He thanked her for her time and promised to keep in touch.

Tom
headed back to the station to pick up the jeep. He left the box of things from Anne Harrison on the desk. He was keen to get up to the farm and meet Jim Watt. He must have been twenty years older than Angela and Tom found it strange that they were such good friends. What was even stranger to Tom was the fact that the original investigation never even mentioned him.

*****

Jim Watts’s farm was very isolated; the nearest house was at least a mile down the lane. It was well maintained, it was more of a ranch than a farm. The only animals that Tom could see were horses. It’s monoblock drive and large eight bedroom house gave it more of a country manor feel than a farm.

Tom
knocked on the door. He introduced himself and explained the reason for his visit to the gentleman that answered the door.

“I’m
Jim Watt, come in.” He led him into the back of the house to a sunroom bathed in light. The French doors opened on to a garden swathed in rose bushes and plants yet to flower. Jim Watt looked in his early sixties, but Tom knew he was much older. He still had a head of black and grey hair, his complexion was not of a man who worked too hard on a farm, he obviously hired a lot of help. He stood about heights with Tom, but he was even broader and just as solid in his build. He offered Tom a seat.

“I
will help in any way I can, Mr Hunter, Angela was a dear friend.”

“That
was something I wanted to ask about, you seem to be a lot older than Angela yet you were still close?”

The
man smiled. “Back in the 70s things were different. Now-a-days everyone is suspicious of everyone else. But back then, they weren’t. Angela and I shared a love of two things, Mr Hunter one was of fine horses, and I had some lovely pedigrees back then, I was a breeder.”

“And
the other?” Tom said.

“Books,”
he said. Tom looked at him questioningly. “Follow me.” Jim stood and led Tom through the house to a living room, leading of it was a library filled with books. “I used to collect them. Angela loved to read. When she decided to be a nurse I told her she could come up here and borrow any books she needed. And she did. She took some biology books, natural remedies and some on first aid I think it was.” Tom looked around the room. “Believe me, Mr Hunter. I enjoyed having the company; she was like the daughter I was never blessed with. And I still miss her.” The two men walked back down the hall to the sunroom.

“Did
Angela have any secrets that she had kept from her mother but maybe shared with you?”

Jim
shook his head. “She adored her parents; she got along well with them. And if she had told me anything, don’t you think I would have told the police at the time.” Jim stood up and walked over to a shelf. He lifted a picture and handed it to Tom. “That was Angela about a month before she disappeared. That horse was her favourite; she rode her every time she came up here.” Tom looked at the photo and handed it back to him.

“And
when she left here to go to Aberdeen, you never saw her again?”

“No,
we said our good byes the day before she left, although I had no idea then that it would be our last.”

“Before
I go, Mr Watt, do you recognize any of these girls?” Tom showed him the pictures of the three missing women.

“That
one looks familiar, but I have no idea why. I can’t place her I’m afraid.” He pointed to Susanna Wheeler.

“She
used to be a barmaid in Arrochar,” said Tom watching the man’s reaction.

Jim
thought for a moment creasing his brow. “I used to go in there sometimes, maybe I saw her there. Sorry I can’t be of more help to you.”

Tom
took back the pictures and thanked him for his help and left.

As
he climbed into his jeep, he thought how this farm would be the ideal place to commit a crime and no one would hear a thing. But was Jim the type? He was charismatic, friendly and he seemed genuinely fond of Angela Harrison.

Tom
couldn’t understand why, but he had a gut feeling about the three missing women. He was now beginning to feel more certain that Angela Harrison might be connected to them. All four had gone missing within the first two weeks of August. The only one he couldn’t get any information on was the girl from Edinburgh. Jill Patterson. He had not been able to get in touch with her family. There had been no answer on the phone, and as yet, no one had returned his messages.

*****

Jim watched the detective pull out of the drive and head back the way he had come.

“What’s
that about?” A voice came from the barn.

“Nothing
you need worry about. You ready for a cup of tea, Robert?”

A
small built man around forty walked from the barn to the house.

“When
I saw him pull up I figured you didn’t want him to see me hanging around so I kept a low profile.”

“I’m
glad you did. I don’t like the whole village knowing my business.”

“Well,
you’ve been seen in town with me before, Jim.”

“Not
at this hour in the morning, Robert.”

The
two men headed into the kitchen for their morning refreshment. A slight discomfort was settling on Jim. He had never been connected to Angela before. He wondered what information Hunter had that brought him up here at this hour in the morning. All the years he had lived in this village, he had never known the copper to be up and around this early. Hunter was obviously different. Different was not always good.

*****

Tom pulled the Jeep up outside the police house. He had forgotten about the box Mrs Harrison had given him, now he had met Jim; he wanted to see what was in it.

The
photos were all pretty innocuous. A young girl having fun with various friends. The journal would hold more information, thought Tom lifting it from the box.

The
book was a white leather with her initials in gold on the front. It was probably a gift from someone.

She
had written about her relief at passing her Higher exams, and her excitement at being accepted to nursing school. There were a few falling-outs with her parents over trivial things. But most of it was the type of thing you would find in a teenagers diary.