Monument to Murder (24 page)

D
ANIELS LIKED
PC R
ICHARDS
. She hadn’t put a foot wrong all morning. She’d taken the O’Neil children to a neighbour and then done her level best to comfort the family while the SIO delivered the sad news. A newsflash on the radio had already alerted them to the find on Bamburgh beach. The O’Neils had been dreading a knock on the door ever since.

Kate gave them a moment alone.

Richards made a pot of tea, then they all sat down around the kitchen table surrounded by cereal bowls, unfinished glasses of juice, abandoned packed lunches and school bags – much as the DCI had imagined while walking up the garden path.

The relationship between Maxine and her parents had been recorded
on the missing-person file as natural but Kate could take nothing for granted and asked the question anyway.

‘It’s important to be sure,’ she said.

Mrs O’Neil confirmed that her oldest was their natural child.

Graham O’Neil asked why they wanted to know.

‘In order to be one hundred per cent certain it is your daughter,’ Hank explained. ‘I’m afraid we need to take samples for comparison.’

Suzanne O’Neil seized on this, her focus shifting from the DS to the DCI. ‘So you’re not absolutely sure it’s Max? How dare you come here then?’

‘We’ve carried out tests,’ Kate said gently. ‘We are as sure as we possibly can be until we compare your DNA with hers . . .’ She paused, taking in the reaction of both parents, checking that they fully understood. Mr O’Neil appeared resigned. But his wife was still clinging to the vain hope that the police were somehow mistaken. The DCI felt compelled to disabuse her of that. ‘For the purposes of identification it would be helpful to know if Maxine ever broke any bones at all.’

‘She broke her right leg once, quite badly. She thought it might stop her dancing but . . .’ Mrs O’Neil’s voice trailed off as she realized she’d just confirmed what all three officers already knew. She extended her hand and found her husband’s, her words catching in her throat. ‘When can we see her?’

It was the question Kate had been dreading.

According to Ailsa Richards, Mrs O’Neil was already on strong medication for depression, a condition that had deteriorated the longer her daughter had been missing. There was no way she was up to seeing the remains. An image of Bamburgh beach jumped into Kate’s head. She wanted to describe the location to the grieving couple. It was a crime scene, yes. But
Maxine had been buried in a place of beauty and solitude, not some ugly, smelly back yard or council tip, a ditch off a main road like other murder victims. However, it was not appropriate to do that now. In time, they would visit the site and see for themselves. Perhaps they would find some consolation in that.

Kate liked to think so.

She felt like pleading with the couple –
save yourselves the distress
– but they just stared at her, waiting to be convinced.

‘I appreciate how distressing this is for you, but you need to know that Maxine has been buried in sand for probably the whole time she’s been missing.’ Kate chose her words very carefully. ‘If you’d like me to, I can tell you what her body looks like. But you must bear in mind that whatever I say could never prepare you for what you would actually see. You are Maxine’s next of kin and you have every right to a viewing. I’d never prevent you from doing that. But I’ll be upfront with you: I strongly urge you not to.’

‘You’re saying there’s no body to see?’ Mr O’Neil said.

Kate gave a little nod. ‘I’m so sorry.’

Mrs O’Neil shuddered violently and swallowed back vomit.

Her husband put his arm around her and spoke gently as he turned to face her. ‘Suzanne, I don’t want to do it. Please, don’t force me to. There is nothing to be gained from it. I want to remember Maxine as she was. We all do. We’ve got the little ’uns to consider now. Besides, you know it’ll make you ill.’

‘I think that’s very sensible.’

Mr O’Neil palmed away his tears. ‘When will we know? For sure, I mean?’

‘It’ll take a day or two to compare the samples.’

‘But it’s a formality, you say?’

Again, Kate nodded. ‘I’m sorry, sir.’

‘Do you want to see Maxine’s stuff?’ her father asked.

‘DS Gormley will call back later, if that’s OK.’ Kate was desperate to check Maxine’s journals, notepads, school books, diary, any documentation that might lead to her killer. But first the couple needed a few hours alone. ‘In the meantime, I’ll make sure you are assigned a Family Liaison Officer, someone who’ll keep you posted on all developments as and when they occur.’

‘Can’t Ailsa do it?’ Mr O’Neil asked.

‘She’ll be helping DS Gormley with enquiries. We need her local knowledge – she’s been a great help to us so far. We have specialist officers on hand to assist you and Mrs O’Neil at any time of the day or night.’ The couple appeared to accept that. They were both close to tears again but trying to be strong. It was all proving too much for them. It felt like an insult asking the next question, but it had to be done. ‘Is there anything else I can do for you before we proceed with the samples?’

Graham O’Neil pulled himself together. ‘Don’t think badly of us, Inspector, but there isn’t a room for you to search as such. Maxine shared a bedroom with her sister. It was traumatic enough when she went missing without the daily reminder of her things lying about, especially for our younger children. After a while we decided to pack her stuff in boxes. It’s all in the loft, if you want to see it.’

‘I understand. DS Gormley will take care of it. Don’t you worry about that.’

Taking buccal swabs from the mouths of parents within an hour of telling them their daughter was dead was a job Kate found abhorrent, one she’d avoid if there were any other way. Unfortunately, there wasn’t. When she was done, PC Richards stepped forward, asking for a quiet moment with the family.

The DCI and Gormley gave their condolences and withdrew to the car.

The fog had lifted slightly but the improvement in the weather wasn’t nearly enough to raise their spirits. It was such a dull, grey morning – such a gloomy, sad street. Kate couldn’t shake the image of the photograph mounted on the wall in the O’Neils’ living room: Maxine centre stage during a local school production with everything to live for.

Such a bloody waste.

‘Hank, I’m going to bugger off back to Northumberland and leave you here to run things this end. I’ll get Lisa to drive down and join you. Stay as long as it takes. Make sure you get an FLO out here to the family right away. I want you to scour those boxes. See if you can find an address book or something. I want you to examine every page in every book. Ask around. I don’t think Twitter was up and running when Maxine went missing. Facebook was. Did she subscribe to it, or any other social networking site? She was an entertainer, so chances are she did. I’m looking for a connection with anyone we already have in the system. I’m thinking John Edward Thompson in particular.’

‘I take it you want everybody re-interviewed?’

She nodded. ‘Starting with the teacher.’

Ailsa Richards walked down the path, head bowed as she approached the Q5. Her face was ashen. She was physically upset as she got in, pulled the door to and strapped herself in. She was exhausted too. Who wouldn’t be after a twelve-hour nightshift . . . and then some? With no time to indulge her distress, Kate turned over the engine and pulled away.

‘You did well in there,’ she said. ‘I’ve known detectives with years of experience bottle it because they had personal history
with the family.’ The young PC didn’t comment. After a moment of consideration, Daniels spoke again: ‘I was going to send my DC down here to work with Hank on this. But I have a better idea. How would you like a temporary secondment to my Murder Investigation Team?’

Richards tired eyes lit up. ‘Really?’

‘Why not? It was your incident in the first place. You have local knowledge and I, sadly, have no clue of where the offence was committed. Northumbria has invested heavily in this case. We’ll obviously be the prime mover, even though our area may be nothing more than a disposal site. It’s a linked incident now. So, until we know where those kids were killed, we remain the lead force. I’d be grateful if you’d consider it.’

The young officer took no persuading.

Kate made the call immediately, asking to speak to Ailsa’s supervision. After a brief exchange, it was agreed that Richards could act as liaison between the forces for a few days, seconded to Daniels’ team.

‘Only a few days?’ Kate queried, pulling a face, Ailsa hanging on her every word. ‘OK, if that’s the best you can do, it’s better than nothing . . . Of course I’ll put it in writing – in triplicate, if it makes you happy.’ She gave Ailsa the thumbs up, then caught Gormley’s eye in her rear-view mirror. ‘Hank, soon as you’re satisfied I want you back in Alnwick.’ She glanced at their new recruit. ‘How are you fixed at home, Ailsa?’

‘Fixed?’

‘You got commitments, pets, kids?’

‘You kidding? I wouldn’t even have to cancel the milk.’

‘Win win.’ Kate winked at Hank in the mirror. ‘Bring her too then, Hank.’

‘I thought her guv’nor said a few days only?’

‘I’ve decided she’ll be indispensable,’ Kate said.

T
HE JOURNEY NORTH
was trouble free. Not so, the grovelling apology to Jo when Kate found out that Rachel McCann still hadn’t resurfaced. It had been twenty-four hours since her last contact with anyone – the phone call to her college friend, Susan Myers, at four o’clock the previous day.

‘Did Emily ring round her friends again?’ she asked.

‘Of course she did.’ Jo sounded pissed.

‘And?’

‘Either they know nothing or they’re not saying.’

‘What do we know of the boyfriend? Vic, did you say his name was?’

The mobile signal was weak. Jo’s voice came and went. ‘Her friends don’t . . . a clue. They aren’t . . . he exists except in Rachel’s imagination.’

‘Maybe he doesn’t.’ Putting her foot down, Kate passed a lorry with an unsafe load, a flapping tarpaulin no longer securing a cargo of second-hand furniture. ‘It wouldn’t be the first time a girl invented a boyfriend to impress her mates. I did it myself once. Rachel’s unhappy, Jo. She’s missing Robert. Maybe Vic is her way of keeping her father alive.’

‘Oh, so you’re a psychologist now!’

‘Don’t get arsy with me. You asked my opinion: I’m giving it to you.’

Three cars on the inside lane indicated to pull off the motorway
at a service station. Kate looked at her watch, her stomach rumbling a plea for food. But the stench from a nearby pig farm made her plough on without stopping. There would be time enough to eat when she got back to the station. Hopefully by that time Robbo would have both food and progress to impart.

‘I didn’t mean to get at you,’ Jo apologized. ‘I’m feeling guilty, that’s all. I’ve known for ages that Rachel was being difficult. Hell, I’ve even witnessed it on occasions. I just didn’t think it was my place to interfere. I gather Stamp tried and wished he hadn’t. So I did sod-all and now . . .’ She sighed. ‘Emily’s in a right state.’

‘It was obvious she wasn’t coping,’ Kate said.

‘Oh, that’s
very
helpful.’

Kate ignored the dig. ‘Did you stay with her last night?’

‘I offered, but she wasn’t having any so I went home. When I got to Low Newton I rang her, only she didn’t pick up. I drove over there early this morning and she wasn’t in. One of the locals said he’d seen her acting weird. He stopped and asked if she was OK but she wouldn’t talk to him.’ Jo sighed loudly, her words spoken in monotone almost, evidence of how desperate she was. ‘I don’t think she realizes what an impression she’s giving out. I mean, a lone female standing on a bridge in tears. I gather the local man thought she was about to jump. She was still there when I found her. She’d been out searching. I don’t know what she expected to find, but she just can’t conceive of Rachel eloping with a boyfriend, Valentine’s Day or not.’

Right now, Valentine’s Day seemed a world away to Kate. So much had happened since their brief encounter at Low Newton-by-the-Sea. None of it good. ‘Look, I’m an hour away,’ she said, trying to take the pressure off Jo. ‘Leave it with me, I’ll try and get hold of her. See if I can talk some sense into her.’

‘Would you?’

‘I just said so, didn’t I?’ Kate needed the distraction like a hole in the head. But having spent time with the O’Neil family, missing girls were high on her agenda at the moment. No matter how busy she was, she couldn’t turn her back on a friend in need. ‘It might not be in person, but I will talk to her. Is she at home now?’

There was silence on the line.

‘Don’t tell me she’s at work?’

‘Against my advice,’ Jo said. ‘And with a ridiculous notion of tackling Fearon—’

‘She can’t do that!’

‘I don’t mean she’s going to ask him about Rachel – give her
some
credit! She wants to keep him close in the vain hope that he starts mouthing off and inadvertently gives away a clue as to where she might—’

‘Vain being the operative word. Does she have any idea how crazy that sounds?’

‘She doesn’t care. She just wants Rachel home safe.’

B
Y THE TIME
Kate reached Alnwick station, Rachel McCann’s disappearance was all round the nick. As she entered the stairwell, heading for the incident room, she overheard snippets of conversation that made her very angry. A police constable was standing on the ground-floor landing making fun of the ‘weirdo’ who’d come in to report Rachel missing.

She hung behind, grinned at him. ‘Give her the brush-off, did you?’

The PC grinned back.

Smug bastard.

‘Sure did!’ he crowed. ‘Silly bitch was chuntering on about some DCI from the Toon being a personal friend – like
that
was going to
make a difference.’ His face went red as he saw the reaction of those he’d been mouthing off to. His audience retreated quickly, leaving him to face the music.

‘Listen to me, you lazy git. I’m the DCI from the Toon you just referred to. So get your arse out there and look before I land you with a blue form! I’m not telling you because I know the family socially or because Rachel McCann is a decent lass – I couldn’t give a shit if she was the chav from hell! You treat her mother with the respect she deserves. You hear me?’

‘Yes, ma’am.’ He could hardly bring himself to look at her. ‘But can I just say in my defence—’

Her glare cut him dead.

He tried again. ‘Ma’am, the girl was in touch with a mate of hers. I didn’t think—’

‘You got that right! Has it never occurred to you that a clever offender might use the victim’s phone to call someone in order to
create
the impression of normality and throw us off the scent? Given that most of her friends are at college, at that hour in the afternoon there’s a strong likelihood they’ll be in a lecture and therefore unlikely to pick up.’ He opened his mouth but Kate waved him away in disgust. ‘I’m not interested in your poxy excuses – just piss off out of my sight!’

T
HE
M
URDER
I
NVESTIGATION
T
EAM
were hard at it when Kate walked in, still livid with the dickhead in the corridor. There was no recent activity recorded on the murder wall. No identity for the second victim. No news: period. She went straight to her office and shut the door with the intention of contacting Emily. But as she pulled her mobile from her pocket, it rang in her hand.

Gormley had worked quickly. He’d already re-interviewed John Butterworth, Maxine O’Neil’s teacher, the only witness to see her
standing at the bus stop before she went missing, a split second observation as he drove by that may or may not have been accurate. He’d been labelled as the last person to see her alive and was therefore the most appropriate witness to start with.

‘Does his story hold up?’ Kate asked.

‘Yep. Drove the route myself and checked his movements on CCTV. His car was seen leaving Beverley at the time he gave in his original statement. He had an appointment at a private dental clinic four miles away. Their security camera captured him arriving – a few minutes early, according to the receptionist. I timed the run and there would be no time to abduct the girl and conceal her, unless he had her hidden in the boot while he was sitting in the dentist’s chair.’

‘How did he come across to you?’

‘Genuine, I’d say. Really upset when I told him we’d found her body. Visibility was good that morning. No fog, like we had here this morning, no parked cars obstructing his view of her standing there.’

‘And the bus driver?’

‘One hundred per cent convinced that she was not at the stop as he drove by. He’s adamant on timings. His evidence is, or should I say was, corroborated by witnesses on the bus at the time. I’ve yet to trace them all. Some have moved but I’ve got Ailsa on it. The bus driver knew Maxine, by sight not name, often picked her up at that stop and dropped her close to her home. It was and still is his regular route.’

‘Damn!’ Kate had been hoping for some discrepancy between what the witnesses were saying now and the statements obtained at the time. But Gormley quickly ruled that out. ‘OK, keep on it. Anything else I need to know?’

‘Nah. I’ve got a list of witnesses who came forward at the time, those who used the road regularly. I’ll work my way through them in case our boy is among them. But it’ll take some time. It’s the main east-west route used by thousands every day, so there’s a good few to get through.’

‘Have you been to the scene of the last sighting?’

‘Yep, it’s a long straight road. Not much vegetation to hide in. It seems likely she was taken by car. Whether she was taken by force or accepted a lift off someone she knew is the million-dollar question. Any news on Rachel?’

‘No. I’m about to call Emily. Speak later, yeah?’

‘Yeah . . . give her my love.’