Monument to Murder (22 page)

J
O SAT IN SILENCE
. The atmosphere in the car was grim. Words seemed difficult for both of them following a scramble to get dressed. Kate’s eyes were fixed on the road ahead. Jo couldn’t fathom what the hell was going through that level head of hers.

Were they a couple again? Just good friends? What?

Was that even a good idea?
Jo wondered.

Her thoughts drifted back to when she’d ended it between them.

Kate was a terrific person, an attentive lover, but ambitious to a fault. Her work came first. Always had. Still did. And now, Jo was asking herself, what had changed? Nothing, was the truthful answer. Not a damned thing. A little red wine might have brought
her
guard down on this special day but their romantic evening would most probably have been a one off.

Maybe Emily had done them both a favour.

In Alnwick, Kate slowed the car, pulling up outside the nick. She put the handbrake on but left the engine running, signalling her intent not to hang around, relieved that the journey had come to an end.

Well, that made two of them, Jo thought.

Jumping out, she held on to the door, preventing Kate from driving away. ‘Call you tomorrow?’ she asked. A nod was all the reply she got.

Kate put the car in gear. ‘Will you explain to Emily?’

‘Of course.’

Kate gave a weak smile in lieu of thanks.

She needed no excuse to avoid getting involved in Emily’s latest drama. Incident room personnel had sent texts asking her to get in touch as a matter of urgency. Hank had called several times, twice in
the last half hour. Their persistence probably signalled more bad news: another death, another family in distress. Jo hoped not, for all their sakes. Shutting the door, she waved Kate off and then went inside.

E
MILY
M
C
C
ANN WAS
seated on a hard wooden bench in reception, her coat wrapped up in a ball beside her, elbows resting on her knees, head in hands. A tan leather bag lay open on the floor, a pack of tissues spilling out. Sensing a presence, she looked up anxiously. It was obvious she’d been crying. Her face was all puffy and red, a telltale smudge of mascara beneath her right eye. She was still dressed in the clothes she’d worn to work. She seemed to have aged ten years since the afternoon.

‘Thank God!’ she said. ‘Maybe you can talk some sense into them. I’ve been here for ages and no one’s taking any bloody notice of a word I’ve said.’

‘I’m sure that’s not true,’ Jo said.

‘The PC I saw is not much older than Rachel. You’d think he’d understand. And when I insisted on seeing a detective, someone in authority who’s over eighteen, he took offence and the shutters went up.’ Emily looked past Jo to the entrance. ‘Where’s Kate?’

T
HE NAME CAUGHT
Kate’s eye as soon as she entered the MIR. She didn’t need telling that there had been a major breakthrough in the case. It was writ large on the murder wall beneath crime scene photographs of the more recent victim. It was her sole focus. The longer she looked at it, the bigger it became. It was like looking through a camera lens, zooming ever closer. Carmichael’s handwriting. Black
marker. Capital letters. Neat script, around three inches tall. A simple name. Two words:
MAXINE O’NEIL
.

‘S
HE’S BUSY
, E
M
. Really busy,’ Jo said. ‘The incident room have been calling nonstop.’

Jo was used to making excuses for Kate. She’d lost count of how many engagements she’d cancelled because Kate had been called in to work. Never off duty was a clichéd term but it was also a true reflection of the working life of a detective. Emily knew that to be the case. Even so, her disappointment was plain to see.

Jo sat down, changing the subject. ‘Tell me what happened with Rachel.’

Emily’s bottom lip quivered at the mention of her daughter’s name.

Jo put her arm around her. ‘I can’t help if you don’t talk to me, Em.’

‘She didn’t come home. Something terrible has happened, I know it has!’

‘You can’t possibly—’

‘I do!’

‘Emily, listen to me—’

‘I gave the copper a recent photo, the names of Rachel’s friends, but he’s wasting his time. I already rang round everyone.’

Jo looked around. ‘Where’s the officer now?’

‘Officer?’ Emily’s expression hardened. ‘Don’t make me laugh.’

The desk sergeant looked up from her paperwork. Jo smiled – a forgive-her-shes-upset kind of smile – trying to keep her onside. Turning to Emily, she dropped her voice and said, ‘Em, you need to calm down. You’re not going to get anywhere if you don’t. Where is he?’

‘Making calls.’ Emily looked over her shoulder. ‘What’s taking so long? I told him Rachel’s not one to run off—’

‘That’s not strictly true though, is it?’

‘Excuse me?’ Emily bit back. ‘Whose side are you on?’

‘It’s not a question of sides. She’s gone missing before—’

‘That was years ago, a schoolgirl prank and you know it. You know Rachel! She’s a responsible adult now!’ Emily paused, then swung round as Jo’s gaze shifted to a point over her shoulder. The PC she was waiting for was standing right behind her. Emily glared at him. ‘Well? What are you waiting for?
Now
will you take a missing person report?’

C
ARMICHAEL NUDGED
H
ANK
Gormley’s arm, tipping him off that their boss had arrived. Kate was standing in the doorway, her eyes focused on the murder wall. She’d changed her clothes and done her hair, had on a little more make-up than usual. She looked stunning.

Gormley left the others to greet her. ‘Where the hell have you been?’ he whispered. ‘We’ve been trying to contact you for hours. I was about to call the police.’

Ignoring the jibe, Kate walked further into the room, sidestepping his question with one of her own. ‘What is this? DNA match?’

‘Yep. Maxine O’Neil. Fifteen years old. One of four children to Suzanne and Graham O’Neil. Missing since around 11.30 on Tuesday, 12 February 2006. Last known sighting at a bus stop on the A1079, five miles north of Hull.’

‘Seen by who?’

‘Passing motorist. School teacher who knew her well.’

‘Male or female?’

‘Male. They’re not allowed to pick up students, so he drove right by.’

‘Allegedly,’ Robson said as he approached.

‘Why weren’t they both at school?’ Kate queried.

‘Half-term,’ Gormley said.

Kate met his eyes. ‘How seriously was her disappearance taken at the time?’

‘Not very. It was treated as a misper, in view of her age.’

Kate noticed Lisa Carmichael’s disgust. She understood it too. If the girl had been five or even ten years old they would have been on it like a rash. But that wasn’t necessarily the case for fifteen-year-olds. Chances were they had gone off with a boyfriend or just decided they’d had enough of their parents and run away. All of those things came into play when deciding who to believe and how to proceed. However, now she was a murder statistic, all that was about to change.

‘W
E NEED TO
talk some more,’ the PC said.

‘Fine!’ Emily pointed at Jo. ‘I want her to come too.’

‘No problem.’ The PC unlocked a door to an interview room and stood back, checking Jo out as she followed Emily into the room. All three took a seat, the policeman placing a scruffy reporter’s notepad on the table between them. He cleared his throat. ‘You should listen to your friend, Mrs McCann.’

‘No, you listen to me!’ Emily said. ‘You may as well, because I’m not going to be put off. Thousands of kids go missing every year in this country. I know what I’m talking about, OK?’

‘You just said Rachel was a responsible adult.’

Jo looked at her friend. ‘He’s right, Em. You can’t have it both ways.’

Emily looked wounded.

Despite the fact that he was the only one with any authority in the room, the PC appeared intimidated by her outburst. He chose his words carefully, acknowledging that of course people of Rachel’s age went missing every day but pointing out that more often than not they returned unharmed within a few hours or days.

‘Why?’ Emily was off again. ‘Why would Rachel go missing?’

‘You tell me,’ the PC said. ‘Boyfriend you don’t approve of, perhaps?’

Emily’s cheeks flushed, her eyes darting to Jo for support.

Knowing there was some truth in that, Jo said nothing. Emily had suspected a clandestine relationship for weeks. That said, Jo understood her reluctance to rubbish her daughter to the police. Only last night, mother and daughter had apparently reached an agreement: Emily would stop treating Rachel like a kid and in return, Rachel would resume her studies and start keeping regular hours.

Would she suddenly go back on her word?

‘Why won’t you listen to me? I already told you what I think has happened.’ Emily looked at Jo, a plea for help. ‘I’ve told him about Walter Fearon, the things he said. Please make him understand or get hold of Kate. Do
something
.’

‘Who’s Kate?’ the PC asked.

‘She’s a DCI with a bit more oomph than you,’ Emily said.

‘Emily!’ Jo apologized to the officer then turned to her friend. ‘C’mon, Em. You’re doing yourself no favours.’

Emily combed a hand through her hair, her face pained with distress, tears welling up in her eyes. ‘I’m sorry, honestly I am. It’s just . . . I want my daughter back.’

‘This young prisoner,’ the PC queried, ‘he’s someone you both work with?’

‘No.’ Emily wiped her eyes. ‘Just me.’

‘I’m aware of him,’ Jo said quietly. ‘He’s a piece of work.’

Emily confirmed that with a nod. ‘I know it sounds crazy, but he’s obsessed with me. That might appear odd to you given my age, but older women are his thing. He’s not been getting his own way lately and I think he’s done something awful to Rachel just to get back at
me
. I’ve been giving him a hard time over his behaviour in prison.’

The officer was looking directly at Jo. ‘Do you agree with Ms McCann?’

His question was a lowballer designed to divide and conquer. A clever tactic when he was on the back foot. He was beginning to piss Jo off.

Where the hell was Daniels when you wanted her?

‘I agree that he’s a very dangerous young man,’ Jo said.

Her failure to commit herself wasn’t lost on the other two.

‘He’s making that up though, surely,’ the policeman said. ‘I mean, he’s in prison, right? He’s not going anywhere.’

‘Yet!’ Emily said.

‘He’s due out imminently,’ Jo explained. ‘Which is why Emily is so distraught.’

‘And I have every reason to be,’ Emily said. ‘It may have passed you by, but sex offenders often work in pairs. That obviously didn’t appear in your police entrance exam!’

‘Has it occurred to you what day it is?’ the PC asked, ignoring the dig.

‘Day?’ Emily looked puzzled.

Jo knew what he was getting at. His question felt like a slap. Taking hold of Emily’s hand, she gave it a gentle squeeze. The physical contact produced a sudden flashback: Kate stroking her hand and ripping off her shirt in a candlelit room.

A lot can happen in an hour.

‘It’s Valentine’s Day,’ Jo said gently.

Emily looked away in a flood of tears.

Jo focused on the officer. ‘Emily’s husband died a few months ago. Were you aware of that?’ she asked pointedly. The PC clearly was. ‘Then perhaps you’ll understand why she can’t bear to let her daughter out of her sight. Hardly surprising she’s beside herself, is it?’

The PC blushed. ‘Rachel’s mixed up too, I gather.’

Jo resented the inference that Emily’s state of mind was not good. But the way she was acting, it was hardly surprising the policeman would take that view. She certainly sounded like she was losing it.

‘Enough to harm herself?’ the PC asked.

‘No.’ Jo shook her head. ‘Rachel would never do that.’

‘No way!’ Emily snapped. ‘I’m her mother! I should know. She hasn’t run away, or thrown herself under a bus. I told you, this offender described her to me, he described the house where we live.’

‘How come?’ the PC asked. ‘Did you talk to him about—’

‘No! Why would I? I have no idea how he knows. He just does! Please, I’m begging you. Take me seriously before it’s too late.’

Jo realized there wasn’t a lot the officer could do. It was obvious he thought that Rachel had gone off with a mate. She hadn’t been missing long and, by her own admission, Emily had already done what the police would do under the circumstances: contacted all Rachel’s friends, the college, etcetera. Although he was under pressure to offer Emily some small crumb of comfort, at least show some sympathy for the woman’s plight, behind his eyes there was a steely determination Jo had seen so often in Kate Daniels when she was about to deliver bad news. A sucker punch was on its way.

C
ORE MEMBERS OF
the Murder Investigation Team were sitting in a semi-circle in the centre of the incident room, lights dimmed, no civilian personnel present. DC Lisa Carmichael looked as though she wanted to punch someone. It was an appalling state of affairs but, like it or not, age had a bearing on how any police force dealt with missing children.

‘Hank, you up for driving to Hull?’ Kate took in Gormley’s nod. ‘Maxine O’Neil’s parents need telling and I’d like to be the one to do that before they find out from some arsehole blabbing to the press. Who spoke to Humberside?’

DC Maxwell raised a finger.

‘What enquiries were made?’ the DCI asked. ‘How far did they take it?’

‘That’s difficult to say. The parents maintained she was a lovely kid. Not the type to go off on her own. There was no fight. No argument beforehand. Others said different.’

Kate’s interest grew. ‘Go on.’

‘There were rumours,’ Maxwell said.

‘Kind of rumours?’

‘Information from her mates that there was another side to her.’

‘The school bike, you told us,’ Carmichael made a face.

Maxwell shot her a look. ‘Humberside’s description, Lisa. Not mine.’

‘Sounds like yours.’

‘Yeah, well it wasn’t.’

‘Oi! Cut it out, you two! Look, we’re all tired. But we need to focus, now more than ever.’ Kate’s eyes were on Maxwell. ‘And the upshot was?’

‘They did what they could but their enquiries came to a dead end.’ His face flushed as he realized his choice of words might’ve been better.

‘Did they do a reconstruction?’ Kate wanted to know. ‘Because if they didn’t, we might need to.’

‘Not sure.’

‘Find out. Lisa, phone Humberside. Let them know we’re on our way. I want the missing-person form and the file faxed up here immediately. I want you lot to grab a couple of hours’ kip at the B & B and then come straight back here. I expect a broad antecedent history by the time I return. Any links with this area, any links with Bamburgh in particular. OK, that’s it. You know the drill.’

‘S
O
I’
M WASTING
my time then,’ Emily glared at the young PC.

‘I’m not saying that, and I can see how distressed you are. But we’ve got to wait a while before we proceed further.’ The PC glanced at his watch, his eyes darting to Jo as he looked up. Then he turned his attention to Emily. ‘It’s barely eleven o’clock, Mrs McCann. She’s only been gone a few hours. You’re far better going home. If Rachel isn’t there by morning, by all means, contact us again. Why don’t you give her another call now?’

‘I’ve phoned her umpteen times and got no answer,’ Emily wailed.

‘Did you know she’d not been in college this afternoon?’

Emily gave a resigned nod.

The PC flipped his notepad open. ‘And did you also know she’d called her friend Susan Myers at four o’clock?’

‘Did she? Susan never mentioned it to me.’

The PC shrugged. ‘According to her, you never asked.’

‘No,’ Emily said. ‘I don’t suppose I did.’

‘Miss Myers was in a lecture when the call came in. She wasn’t
able to pick up but it was definitely Rachel’s number. She read it back to me . . .’ The officer shifted his gaze to Jo, then to Emily. ‘Your daughter has a new boyfriend, Mrs McCann. His name is Vic.’

Emily went quiet.

It was the killer blow Jo had been waiting for. She squeezed Emily’s hand. The PC might be very young but he was pretty switched on. Given the fruits of his enquiries he had good grounds to doubt Emily’s version of events. Maybe he was right to do so. Rachel had been stroppy, secretive, and downright disobedient of late. She’d come in drunk several nights running since her mother had returned to work. Was it any wonder she wasn’t thinking straight? Her story sounded farfetched, even to Jo.

M
AKING ARRANGEMENTS TO
meet their Humberside colleagues early next morning, Daniels and Gormley grabbed their coats and left the incident room for the long drive south.

‘You got the sample?’ she asked.

Gormley patted his jacket pocket and nodded his head.

‘I’ll have to ask the girl’s parents about the pearls whether I like it or not, and a whole lot more besides . . .’ As the DCI pushed through the door into the corridor her mobile rang. Cursing, she took the phone from her pocket, pressed to answer and lifted it to her ear.

‘DCI Daniels,’ she barked. ‘What is it? I can’t talk now.’

‘Can you call me later then?’ Jo asked.

‘Oh, sorry. Actually no, yes . . . maybe, I don’t know.’ A thought popped into Kate’s head. ‘Hold on!’ She grabbed Gormley’s arm, stopping him in his tracks, not bothering to cover the speaker. ‘Wonder if Munro knows about Maxine O’Neil?’

‘He’s bound to,’ Gormley said. ‘You want me to ring him before we set off?’

‘No, it’s OK, I have his number in here.’ She pointed at her phone with her free hand. ‘C’mon, you can bell him on the way.’ As they left via the rear exit, Jo’s voice was drowned out by the din from a passing ambulance. ‘Sorry, Jo. Didn’t catch that. What did you say?’

‘I said, that’ll be a no then.’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ Kate pressed her key fob and the lights on the Q5 blinked as the door locks clunked open. She climbed in and started the engine. ‘Hey, look, I’m sorry. Something’s come up. I’m flat-out here.’

‘Fine!’ Jo’s voice filled the roomy interior of the Q5. ‘Sorry I bothered you.’

‘Don’t be daft . . .’ Kate hadn’t figured on a public row. But as soon as she turned her key in the ignition, her mobile had switched to the hands-free system. She tried to ignore the heat of Gormley’s eyes on the side of her head and the sarcastic remark that followed, an observation about Jo being in a strop and laying the blame at
her
feet. Resisting the temptation to rip into him, Kate said, ‘Take no notice of Hank. Just believe me when I tell you it’s important.’

‘It always is,’ Jo said. ‘Shame you care more for the dead than the living.’

Kate winced. ‘How is Emily?’ she asked, sheepishly.

The dial tone hit her ear as Jo put down the phone.

‘Great answer,’ Kate muttered, pulling away.

‘Mind if I ask you a serious question?’ Hank said.

She looked at him. ‘Fill your boots.’

‘Do all dykes argue 24/7?’

Kate didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.