When the Guilty Cry

by M J Lee

  ‘And what about the witnesses to her disappearance?’

  ‘There don’t seem to be any.’

  ‘No friends?’

  ‘None were with her. The parents did say she was supposed to be going to a festival with two friends, a Rose Gray and an Andrea Briggs, but it was a lie. They didn’t meet her.’

  ‘So you think she went with somebody else?’

  ‘We don’t even know if she went to the festival. She told her parents she was going, but we have no proof she ever arrived.’ He put the picture given to him by Mr Ryder on the desk between them. ‘According to the parents, this was the last picture of her before she went missing.’

  The picture of a pretty girl with long blonde hair and a beguiling smile lay between them.

  Mrs Challinor stared at it for a long time. ‘What do you think happened to her?’

  ‘I don’t know, Mrs Challinor. Young girls vanish all the time. They want their freedom. Or they meet a man. Or they just want to get away from home. Perhaps the home life wasn’t as rosy as the Ryders have painted it. Girls go missing all the time.’

  ‘That’s shocking, Ridpath.’

  ‘Most return eventually.’

  ‘But some never do, like Jane Ryder?’

  ‘Exactly. Go on any of the missing person websites. It’s like a novel of sad stories and even sadder pictures. I checked with the National Crime Agency Missing Persons Unit. There were three hundred and twenty thousand missing person incidents in 2019, about thirty-seven being reported to the police every hour.’

  Mrs Challinor sighed and slumped down over her desk. ‘So many?’

  ‘Most people were found, or returned later of their own accord, but some didn’t. I checked – there are still four hundred and twenty-six cases outstanding from 2019, never mind all the other years.’

  ‘What are the next steps?’

  ‘Sophia will contact Jane’s school and friends, while I work the police side.’

  ‘Ideally I’d like the policemen involved and the last people to have seen her to give evidence at the inquest.’

  Ridpath stood up. ‘I’ll arrange it, Coroner. And thank you for calling Claire Trent. I now have more help on the Daisy House case.’

  ‘Can you manage both, Ridpath? If you can’t, let me know and I’ll talk to her again.’

  ‘With Sophia’s help and the new resources, I think I can manage, Coroner.’

  ‘What about Eve?’

  ‘I’m going to speak to a neighbour this evening. Her daughter goes to the same school. I’m sure they can do homework together until I get home.’

  ‘Sounds like a plan, Ridpath.’

  He turned to leave.

  ‘And one more matter – have you contacted the hospital yet?’

  ‘Not yet, but I’m on it.’

  ‘Contact them, Ridpath. You’re far too valuable to me and the coroner’s office to get ill again.’

  ‘I’m on it, Mrs Challinor,’ he said, opening the door to leave. ‘I’ll try to slot it in next week.’

  Her voice dropped a register. ‘“Try” is not an option, Ridpath. Make it happen.’

  Chapter 32

  ‘Right, Sophia. Did you manage to follow up from this morning?’

  ‘Here are the copies of Jane’s photo.’ She passed across a small pile of colour copies. ‘Pretty girl, wasn’t she? So full of life and energy.’

  Ridpath picked up the top copy. ‘The more I look at this photo, the less I understand why she went missing. There seems to be no real reason, other than something bad happened to her. Or perhaps we’re not seeing the full picture, just looking at the surface; a young, pretty girl with her whole life in front of her.’

  There was a moment’s silence between them, before he asked, ‘Anything from the school?’

  ‘I rang them. Luckily, the school secretary had worked there since the dark ages. She remembered the disappearance of Jane, caused a big stir in the school, she told me. Her form teacher is long gone, but the present day deputy head, a Mr Roscoe, taught her history. I’m interviewing him tomorrow at eight thirty before school starts. Want to come?’

  ‘No, you handle it. I’m up to my eyes in stuff. Make sure he understands we may call him for the inquest.’

  ‘Will do. It’s all a bit of rush, isn’t it?’

  ‘Anything else?’

  ‘I think so.’

  ‘Go on…’

  ‘Jane Ryder said she was going to a festival. I thought it might have been Glastonbury, since it’s such a rite of passage for her age group.’

  ‘But…’

  ‘Glastonbury didn’t start until June 24 in 2009. There were three music festivals taking place on the weekend she disappeared. One was the Download Festival at Donington Park between Derby and Leicester. A real headbangers’ convention this one, featuring Whitesnake, Mötley Crüe and a host of other heavy metal bands.’

  ‘Not a bad line-up.’

  She grimaced and continued speaking. ‘Another was on the Isle of Wight, with The Prodigy, Neil Young, Stereophonics and Simple Minds. Much more my cup of camomile tea.’

  ‘Seems a long way to travel.’

  ‘That’s what I thought. The third was in Manchester at Platt Fields, the Mad Ferret Festival, set up by a bunch of students. It later became Parklife.’

  Ridpath’s eyes tightened. ‘I think I know the festival. I may have even worked there.’

  His mind went back to one of his first jobs as a probationary constable. It was the summer Polly was pregnant with Eve, and he was working all the overtime he could get to save up for the birth.

  Had he worked in Platt Fields?

  A festival kept coming back to him in flashes, like clips from a film. Hot sun shining in a cloudless sky. Him in his shirtsleeves and helmet. A briefing from a sergeant at the station. Vaguely remembered words; low key, be friendly, don’t arrest unless trouble, safeguarding not a police role, ignore drug taking unless evidence of dealing. Loud music played off-key and an endless, hot summer day, watching all the students having a great time.

  He’d gone in the van with Sergeant Mungovan.

  ‘Got your sunscreen?’

  ‘No, Sergeant.’

  ‘You’re gonna need it. Here, borrow mine.’

  Walking from the van to the positions on the outskirts of the park, just inside the festival’s hastily erected fence. The whistling of ‘Colonel Bogey’ by the students as the coppers marched along bringing a smile to his face.

  The music, loud and boring, or soft and melancholic. He would have preferred to have listened to Bowie or danced to Northern Soul, but there was none. It was student music with all its lack of melody or harmony. Only The Streets were at all interesting, Mike Skinner prowling the stage like a young Bowie.

  He’d earned a nice bit of overtime. He’d even volunteered for the next day, though it was his time off.

  He never worked another festival afterwards, already being fast-tracked as detective material while Eve grew older and Polly went on to train as a teacher. Somehow, he missed out on the whole festival experience, never going to Parklife or even to Glastonbury.

  Days he missed that he would never see again.

  ‘Didn’t Jane Ryder’s parents say she was going to be away for the weekend, returning on Sunday evening?’ said Sophia, interrupting his memories.

  ‘Yeah, so she could have gone to any of them.’

  ‘I’ll call and check if the names Mad Ferret, Donington or the Isle of Wight ring a bell.’

  ‘I don’t think they will. The father seemed distracted and the mother, well, her drugs…’ Ridpath didn’t finish the sentence. ‘The less we disturb the family these days, the better.’

  ‘OK, I’ll follow up on the festivals, see if I can find out more.’ She checked her watch. ‘Weren’t you supposed to be picking up Eve?’

  ‘Not until five p.m., for once I’m not rushing around. She has the school computing club today. They are coding some game or other. You know she helps me whe
n I can’t work out stuff on the computer. It’s a bit embarrassing, if I’m honest.’

  ‘She can come round to my place if she wants, give my mum lessons.’

  ‘A new business for me: hiring my daughter out as a computer consultant. Not a bad idea.’ As he spoke, his mobile phone rang. It was Dave Connor.

  ‘Hi Ridpath, Hannah rang me. We have a hit on the DNA of one of the hands.’

  Chapter 33

  Dave Connor was waiting for him at Stretford Police Station. He had already set up a situation room with pictures of the hands and the backpack pasted to the walls and boards. Just looking at it reminded Ridpath of how little they knew.

  On a video screen in front of them, Hannah Palmer had started talking. ‘These are the topline results. I’ve hassled the lab to rush them out. They are performing another test on the DNA to make sure these are correct – you can’t be too careful when it’s been contaminated by embalming fluid.’

  ‘Just give us the results, Hannah, enough with the excuses.’ Dave Connor was tapping the table impatiently.

  ‘It’s important you understand, Dave. These are preliminary.’

  ‘OK. OK, I get it.’

  Ridpath tapped his arm lightly. ‘You have a hit on the DNA, Hannah?’

  ‘We have, Ridpath. So far two of the hands have given us nothing. We haven’t been able to extract enough undamaged DNA to make a successful analysis. We’re trying again as I speak.’

  ‘Great, but you’ve been able to extract DNA from one of the hands?’

  ‘Correct, and even better, I checked it against the NCNAD, the National DNA database. We had a hit to a Joseph Rowlands, aged fifty-two when he disappeared.’

  Ridpath frowned. ‘Disappeared?’

  ‘He was reported missing in 2018.’

  ‘What?’

  Hannah was reading from a report. ‘His last known address was 14 Styal Road, Moston.’

  ‘Who reported him missing?’

  Hannah scanned the file. ‘It doesn’t say on this. But I’m sure he has a missing person file.’

  ‘Any other information?’

  ‘None, but I’m wondering why he was on the database in the first place? We must have collected his DNA for some reason.’

  ‘Great work, Hannah. Can you send across the results?’

  ‘Will do, Ridpath.’

  ‘When do you think you’ll get the others?’ asked Dave Connor.

  ‘I don’t know, Dave. It’s like asking how long is a piece of string.’

  ‘A rough estimate.’

  ‘Six feet, give or take a few inches.’

  ‘Ha bloody ha.’

  ‘You asked for it. A rough estimate is when I get them, Dave, you’ll get them.’

  The detective was about to push again, but Ridpath stopped him. ‘Thanks, Hannah. What about the fingerprints?’

  ‘Should come in tomorrow with a bit of luck, we’re stretched and it’s proving difficult to obtain good samples.’

  ‘OK. Anything on the backpack or the paper in the joint?’

  ‘Nothing so far. I’ll call you if anything comes up. Look, Ridpath, I’m working as hard and as fast as I can.’

  ‘I know, Hannah, sorry, we’re under immense pressure to get a result here. Please keep going, OK?’

  ‘Will do. You’ll be the first to hear if we get anything.’

  ‘What about me? Am I just chopped liver around here?’

  Ridpath clicked off the Zoom link before Hannah heard Dave Connor’s outburst. ‘She’s doing her best, Dave, we have to be patient.’

  ‘Tell it to Holloway.’

  ‘If you want, I will, but pissing off the people who can help us is not a smart move.’

  The detective stayed silent.

  ‘At least we now have a place to start. Can you check up on this Joseph Rowlands? Find out everything you can, visit the address and see if anybody has a picture of him? Plus see if he had a hand operation. It’ll confirm the DNA result is correct if he did. I’ll ring Chrissy and get her to check the Missing Persons database. She seems to be doing a lot of that at the moment.’

  ‘Right, Ridpath. I haven’t started checking HOLMES yet.’

  ‘Don’t worry, Chrissy is doing it. Emily Parkinson is going over the house to house and the TV crew interviews, as well as checking the backpack.’

  ‘Thank God or Claire Trent, whichever is more powerful. Having more people on board will help.’

  ‘We only have them until Monday, so we need to get working. Let’s meet here tomorrow morning at nine a.m. and consolidate. We’ll make this the base moving forward.’

  ‘Sounds like an idea.’

  ‘How is Holloway?’

  ‘Like a caged lion. I told him about the extra resources and his response was, “Is that all? A DS and a civilian researcher?” He’s not a happy camper.’

  ‘Is he giving you Oliver back?’

  Connor nodded. ‘Tomorrow morning, I’ll get him to come to the briefing. He’s keen anyway.’ The detective scratched his head. ‘I’ve been meaning to ask, Ridpath…’

  ‘What, Dave?’

  ‘Holloway’s put me in charge, but you are the ranking detective, and you have SIO experience…’

  ‘So you want me to take charge but not let him know?’

  ‘Exactly. At the moment, I have only two years to go before I can put my slippers on. I will have done my thirty years, Ridpath, I need this sort of case like I need a hole in the head. Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy to do the legwork, but my days of running investigations are a long way behind me.’

  Ridpath thought for a moment. ‘It would be good for you to go out in a blaze of glory, Dave.’

  ‘My problem is, I think I’m going to go out in a blaze of failure. I can’t do it any more, Ridpath.’

  ‘OK, I’ll take it on, but on one condition.’

  The detective looked at him warily.

  ‘When we find who did it, you announce it to the press.’

  ‘When we find him? Or if we find him?’

  ‘Oh, we’ll find him, Dave, I’m certain we will. It’s just whether we can do it before Monday.’

  Chapter 34

  ‘You’re late again, Dad.’

  Eve was sitting on the wall outside her school, backpack at her feet.

  ‘Sorry, love, you know what it’s like when I’m in the middle of an investigation.’

  She opened the car door and slid into the front seat. ‘It’s not good enough, Dad.’

  For a second, her voice sounded exactly like her mother’s. Polly’s face flashed into his mind and he quickly dismissed it. Now was not the time to dwell on the past. ‘I know, that’s why I’ve asked our neighbour, Mrs Dunwoody, to pick you up tomorrow when she comes for her own daughter. You can do your homework together in her house until I get home.’

  ‘But Jessica’s one of the mean girls. Why can’t I do my homework with Maisie instead?’

  He pulled away from the kerb. ‘Because Maisie’s mum can’t pick you up. It won’t be for long, just till next week. I can still take you to school every morning.’

  ‘OK,’ she said grumpily, crossing her arms and pouting.

  Ridpath knew OK meant it wasn’t OK. ‘It’ll only be for a couple of days.’

  ‘A couple of days of hell.’

  Ridpath smiled as he drove along. A troupe of opera singers couldn’t match Eve for drama. ‘I thought you liked Jessica?’

  ‘We were friends until she started hanging out with Rachel’s squad. They’re sooooooo plastic.’

  Plastic was the worst put-down in Eve’s eyes, standing for everything she despised.

  ‘It won’t be for long,’ he repeated weakly.

  ‘A day with Jessica is like a year in hell.’

  ‘That good, huh,’ he said trying not to smile. Teen angst. Was he as bad at her age? Probably even worse. ‘What would you like for tea?’ He changed the subject. ‘How about sushi? I could drive to the shop in Chorlton and pick some up.’

&nbs
p; This was an out and out bribe. Sushi was her favourite food. When he was kid, his had been Holland’s meat and potato pie and chips. How the world had changed.

  She brightened for a second, and then remembered she was supposed to be sulking. ‘OK, I’d like some sake—’

  ‘You’re too young to drink.’

  ‘Dad, sake is salmon sushi. And some ebi and some California rolls.’

  It was all Greek to him, even though it was Japanese. He would just go into the shop with her while she chose, making sure they wore their masks; he always kept a pack in his car.

  ‘What are you going to have?’

  ‘I guess some spicy chicken.’ It was about the only the dish he could eat on the menu. Unless he nipped down to the chippie opposite the baths. ‘Or I could have a bit of haddock and chips, with a side order of mushy peas.’

  ‘But they don’t do…’ She stopped as she realised what he meant. ‘Dad, one day you’re gonna have to expand your food horizons away from chips. Try some healthy eating.’

  ‘It’s a vegetable, isn’t it? One of my five a day.’

  She was about to launch into a long diatribe on the heavy starch and carbohydrate content of the humble potato when she saw he was teasing her. ‘Dad, you’re making fun of me.’ She slapped his arm.

  ‘Only a little.’

  She laughed, and then her face became stern. ‘But seriously, you have to eat more healthily. I’ve noticed you’ve been putting on weight recently.’ She stared obviously at the roll of stomach lying over his belt.

  After losing a lot of weight after Polly died, he gradually started to eat again, sandwiches and chips being the major component of his new diet. He’d been meaning to lose the spare tyre for a while. Perhaps it was time.

  ‘And did you arrange your check-up at Christies?’

  It was the second time he’d been reminded. ‘I’m doing it.’

  ‘Do you want me to do it for you?’

  God, she did sound exactly like Polly.

  ‘No, I’ll do it first thing tomorrow.’

  ‘I’ll remind you.’

  ‘No need.’

  ‘No problem,’ she said, smiling.

  Now he was being teased. ‘I promise I’ll do it.’

  She held out her finger with pinky and thumb extended. He did the same and they touched and twisted. It was some sort of teenage confirmation of a promise.