It could save his marriage.
‘Okay,’ he said, although part of him was still fighting the decision and wanting to instead get cracking with the working day downstairs with his team of officers. ‘Just a week, until things blow over.’
CULLEN SPLASHED his face with ice-cold water and stared hard at himself in the toilet mirror with his striking emerald green eyes as the drips fell like tears into the basin. He’d been replaying the events to his tired-looking reflection, from the first moment he had spotted the guy on the train, right through to the moment of impact and the way his girlfriend had screamed and then crumpled in despair at the foot of her dead boyfriend.
Great, heaving, guttural sobs.
It had only been a couple of minutes since he’d agreed to the time out, and he was already regretting his decision. There was so much work to do, for a start. And he didn’t like the way it looked, him disappearing at the first sign of trouble. It wasn’t the way he worked.
But was Maggie Ferguson really giving him the choice?
He doubted it. Yes, suspension was probably too far, and she certainly wouldn’t want to go down that route, risking alienating a senior officer and fanning the flames of blame that the media might well be stoking at this very moment.
He could just imagine the way The Daily Post would play it, despite his relatively good working relationship with a couple of their more experienced journalists.
But if she was being pushed into a decision, and if he’d resisted her ‘offer’, he didn’t doubt that she would have acted swiftly and decisively.
He eyed the toilet door as it swung open.
‘Boss.’ DS Tony Beswick let the door close behind him. ‘I’ve been looking for you.’
Cullen smiled, flattening down his short, dark but greying hair with one last look in the mirror. ‘Well, looks like you’ve found me.’
‘I heard about what happened.’
‘The jungle drums are working well today,’ Cullen deadpanned. He leant against the sink with the back of his hands.
‘You want to talk about it?’
Cullen nodded. ‘Not in the toilets, though.’
‘Why ever not…’
‘Call me picky, but I’d prefer somewhere that didn't smell of urine.’
‘YOU'VE CHANGED,’ Beswick joked as Cullen ordered a skinny flat white. At Cullen’s suggestion, they’d gone to the branch of Costa Coffee that was just a few metres down from Headquarters.
The girl behind the counter looked across at Beswick. ‘Just a black coffee for me,’ he said.
‘Americano? Would you like to try our new Nicaraguan blend?’
Cullen smiled as he watched Beswick’s mind whir, a slight panic behind his eyes as his salt and pepper moustache twitched.
‘Err, just a black coffee.’
They retreated towards a quiet corner when the coffees arrived.
‘I bloody hate all that choice,’ Beswick said, pulling up his chair with an ear-splitting scrape. ‘I preferred it when a coffee was just a coffee. What the heck is skinny anyway?’
‘Skimmed milk.’
‘Oh,’ he said, non-plussed. ‘And the flat white bit?’
‘No idea. But it tastes great,’ Cullen said, taking a sip.
Beswick was more than just a colleague. Now good friends, they’d worked together for the past eight years, ever since Cullen had transferred to the capital from the North West. The born and bred East Ender had always looked after him, and as Cullen had climbed the ranks rapidly from Sergeant to Inspector and then to Chief Inspector, there had never been a hint of jealousy from his older but now technically junior colleague.
‘So, what happened?’
Cullen recounted the events as Beswick looked on without comment, his facial expression not giving anything away.
‘And that’s it,’ Cullen finished. ‘I came straight to the office.’
‘And how are you feeling?’
‘Okay. I think.’
In this job, you got to see some horrific sights, but this morning had been particularly shocking. The face of that boy, the way his wide eyes seemed to bore into him; he would never forget it.
‘Maybe you should take some time off?’ Beswick suggested. ‘Just a few days,’ he added quickly. ‘To let it all sink in.’
‘I am,’ Cullen replied. ‘The whole week, at least.’
‘Oh.’ Beswick sounded surprised. ‘Well, that’s a good decision, I think.’
‘The Super made me an offer I couldn’t refuse,’ Cullen said. ‘Take a holiday or else.’
‘She said that?’
‘Not in as many words, but you know how it works.’
'Yes. I still think it’s for the best though.’ He looked closely at Cullen. ‘You don’t?’
‘Maybe.’
‘Look, Boss, I understand it goes against your instincts. But you’ve got a good team, the world won’t stop turning if you take a few days off.’
‘I know. I’ll probably go up to Wigan with Sarah.’
‘So she’s not left yet?’
‘This afternoon.’
‘It’s a good idea. It must be difficult for her with what’s happening to her mum. I’m sure she’ll appreciate it.’
Sarah had made the decision to be close to her elderly mother, whose dementia had been getting worse and in the last few weeks seemed close to death.
‘Hopefully.’ Cullen looked off to his left. ‘I keep thinking about what happened this morning… it doesn’t really make sense.’
‘Why his girlfriend changed her story?’
‘Not just that. Why he ran. And he didn’t just run, he ran for his life.’
‘Bad choice of words.’
‘Indeed.’ Cullen struggled with his thoughts. ‘I know they found the cannabis, but it was such a small amount. I just don’t think that’s the reason he ran.’
‘Any theories?’
‘Well, the girl changing her mind, that seems pretty obvious. They’d had an argument, she was spurning his advances on the tube, and when he copped a feel I presented her with an opportunity to get revenge. She probably thought it would just teach him a lesson, no real harm done.’
‘I can see how getting the police to put the wind up him would have been tempting.’
‘Particularly on the spur of the moment.’
‘And then she followed you off the train and out of the station, maybe already regretting what she’d done.’
‘Just in time to see him hit by the bus.’
‘And then, scared and guilt-ridden by what she’d said to you, she changed her story.’
‘Exactly,’ Cullen said. ‘Sounds plausible?’
‘Eminently.’
‘But why he ran, with such urgency, I don’t really have any concrete ideas. You?’
‘No. But I’ll give it some thought.’
‘It might all come out in the wash, once the background checks have been carried out. He might have a history.’
‘Hopefully.’
‘Do you think I overreacted?’
‘Not from what you’ve told me. I would have done the same. Except with this body, I don't think I’d have caught up with the guy anywhere north of the Thames.’ He offered a smile.
‘You should try the skimmed milk.’
‘No thank you. Anyway, you always do the running.’
4
Cullen was standing on the platform at Waterloo station, waiting for his train back home, when his phone rang. He thought it might be Sarah, calling back about something she’d forgotten to say when they’d spoken just before he’d left HQ.
But it was Amy, their nineteen-year-old daughter.
‘Dad, thank goodness you picked up.’
‘Amy, are you okay?’ She didn’t sound her usual self and Cullen felt sick as a terrible thought flashed in his mind.
‘Not really.’
Cullen, phone pressed tightly to his ear, moved away from the others on the platform. ‘What’s up, love?’
Please let her be
okay…
‘It’s Natalie. She’s gone missing.’
‘Natalie, as in your housemate?’
‘She went to London at the weekend for a selection event at Brand New, you know, the big international marketing and branding company.’
Cullen was aware of the company. Their mercurial and charismatic founder, Kenneth New, was a well-known celebrity who had recently fronted a reality TV show called Pitch Your Life.
‘She was due back on a train from Paddington last night. I went to bed early and this morning I realised she hadn't come back.’
‘You’ve tried her phone, presumably.’
‘Permanently off.’
‘Battery ran out?’ Cullen tried.
‘Maybe. But it still doesn’t explain why she didn't come home.’
‘No,’ he agreed. ‘She got friends in London?’
‘Plenty.’
‘So maybe she decided at the last minute to stay over Sunday evening with one of them? And in the meantime her phone went dead? She could be on her way back as we speak.’
‘I don’t think so, Dad.’
‘Why so sure?’
‘Because the last text message I got from her was from Paddington, just as she was about to board the train back to Bristol.’
‘What did it say?’
‘It said Can’t wait to get home. Made a terrible mistake coming here.’
‘Right. And that's the last you heard from her?’
‘I didn’t spot the text for a few minutes. By the time I tried to call back, there was no answer. I texted but no reply. Can you see why I’m worried?’
‘Yes, I can. How about her boyfriend? Has he heard anything?’
‘Ex-boyfriend. They split up a couple of weeks ago.’
‘Oh.’
‘I did call Jack, first thing this morning, but he says he hasn’t heard anything from her since the night they broke up.’
‘Her family, have you checked with them?’
‘She’s just got her brother left…’
Of course, he knew that her mother and father were dead.
‘…And he’s trekking in Nepal. So Natalie isn’t in regular contact with him at the moment.’
‘How about contact with Natalie over the weekend? Any indications that something was wrong? Anything that might explain what the terrible mistake might be referring to?’
‘Apart from the last text message, the only other time I heard from her was just before she entered the selection centre, on Friday evening.’
‘Tell me about this selection centre.’
‘Well, it was at a large property in Mayfair, a weekend-long residential event, staying on site for two nights. As far as I know, they had to do a series of tasks, as well as having interviews. Natalie told me that there were eight people who got through to this stage. It's a really competitive process, with thousands applying. She was desperate to get a job with them. Said it would be a dream come true.’
‘So the terrible mistake, maybe it relates to applying to the company.’
‘Maybe.’
‘What would you like me to do?’
‘Investigate. This is your remit, isn’t it? She’s gone missing on a train.’
‘We don’t know that.’
‘Well, she was last heard from at a Network Rail station, at London Paddington, and that’s also British Transport Police jurisdiction.’
‘True.’ Cullen always admired Amy’s determination. At least she wasn’t one of those sons or daughters that knew nothing of what their parents did.
‘Can’t you launch a missing person’s alert?’
‘It wouldn’t be me. That would be the London division. We only deal with major and serious crime. Anything else, the regional guys deal with. That includes missing people, unless it’s escalated, in which case we would get involved.’
‘So can you liaise with them?’
‘I can do that. Of course.’
‘Thanks, Dad. That’s brilliant, I’m so worried… oh!’
‘What is it?’
‘Natalie’s just texted.’
‘That’s great.’
There was silence from his daughter.
‘Amy? That’s good news. What does she say?’
‘It says: Sorry I didn’t come home. Just need some space. Staying with friends until I get my head together Nat x.’
Amy sounded very hesitant as she read it out.
‘You okay, Amy?’
‘I… I just have a bad feeling.’
‘You’re worried about her state of mind? That she might do something silly?’
‘I… I’m not sure about this.’
‘About what?’
‘I don’t really know.’
CULLEN WAS HALFWAY HOME, twenty-five minutes into the journey from Waterloo, when Amy called back.
‘Amy.’
‘Hey, Dad.’
She still sounded troubled.
‘Not heard anything more from Natalie?’
‘The phone’s off again,’ she replied despondently. ‘I’ve tried and tried. Fired off a couple of texts, messaged her on WhatsApp, sent a direct tweet, but if the phone isn’t ringing through, there’s not much point.’
‘Just give her time, Amy. She’ll get in touch when she’s ready. It won’t be long, I’m sure.’
‘I’ve just sent her an email, in case she’s on a computer somewhere. But her laptop’s back here, at the house. She travelled to London pretty light.’
‘Try not to worry, love.’ Cullen checked his watch. ‘Haven’t you got classes this morning?’
‘Yeah. I’ve skipped the first one,’ she admitted. ‘I just couldn’t go in as normal, while Natalie was missing.’
‘But now you know she’s not missing…’
‘Yeah, I guess so.’
‘What’s bothering you so much about this?’ There definitely seemed more to her skittish behaviour. The way her voice faltered between words, her mind processing things not quite as fluently as usual. He worried whether her anxiety issues might be surfacing again, the dark, destructive monster emerging from the swamp to wreak havoc on his beautiful daughter and on those who loved her.
‘I… I don’t know, Dad.’
Cullen felt the sickening feeling in his gut again. Amy had been fine for almost two years now. The anxiety had developed in her final years at school, creeping through her like a metastasising cancer without anyone noticing, until it had taken hold. It had taken over a year of medication and therapy, plus a huge amount of support from her family, for Amy to recover.
Amazingly, though, throughout all this, she had still managed to excel in her exams, gaining a place at Bristol.
But the immense strain of supporting Amy had nearly broken Cullen’s marriage. It had been the worst of times. And he would do anything to not go back there.
‘Talk me through what you’re worried about.’
‘Well, it’s just… I don’t know… it sounds overdramatic…’
‘Just tell me,’ Cullen soothed. ‘If there’s something bothering you, it’s best to get it out.’
Amy took a steadying breath, obviously still unsure about vocalising her worries. Cullen had noticed, since her recovery, that she rarely told them about her day-to-day concerns. Often they found out about things after the event, such as when Amy and Natalie had gone a week without heating during a bitterly cold period. It was good that she could cope on her own, without Dad coming to the rescue. But he wondered whether it was more than his daughter just growing up. Maybe she was now averse to worrying her parents, feeling guilty at what her illness had put everyone through. And he would never want that. He always wanted to be there to help. It was his job.
‘This might sound crazy,’ Amy began. ‘Just tell me if you think I’ve lost the plot. But the text message. I’m not sure about it.’
‘How do you mean?’
‘What if it wasn’t from Natalie? What if someone else sent it?’
‘You mean, if someone had
taken Natalie…’
There was a pregnant pause. ‘It sounds ridiculous, doesn’t it?’
Cullen checked himself before replying. He didn’t want to sound dismissive. Not least because of his wider worries of his daughter’s state of mind. ‘It sounds unlikely.’
‘Yes, I know it’s unlikely,’ she replied, talking it through with herself as much as with him.
‘It sounds like Natalie has had a very stressful weekend,’ Cullen continued. ‘From what you said, this was a big deal for her, and if it didn’t go well, then I can see how she might have reacted the way she has.’
‘You think?’
‘This kind of thing happens all the time, people going missing, but in the vast majority of cases, they disappear of their own accord, for a reason, and mostly they come back.’
‘Okay…’
‘You don’t sound convinced.’
‘Oh, I don’t know…’
‘Natalie’s lucky to have a friend who cares about her. And when she does come back to Bristol, I’m sure she’ll really appreciate your support.’
‘Right…’
Again, something didn’t feel right. He wasn’t going to leave the conversation here. ‘Is there anything you haven’t told me, Amy, that might be important here?’
‘Maybe.’
‘Then you’d probably feel a lot better if you spat it out.’
‘Okay. It’s just that I didn’t want to get people into trouble, you know, if I’m not right… it’s her boyfriend, her ex-boyfriend, Jack…’
Cullen left a space for her to continue. He was finally getting somewhere.
‘I think something happened before they broke up. Something bad.’
‘Go on…’
‘I can’t prove anything, and Natalie wouldn’t talk. We fell out about it, actually. So I decided to leave it, because it’s her own business, I guess, and the important thing is that they’d split up, so I figured, you know, she was okay.’
‘You’re not explaining yourself properly, Amy.’
But it was quite obvious where this was going.
‘Natalie changed over the last few months. She became really withdrawn. You know she’s a really good badminton player, one of the best in the university first team? Well, she just quit. A month ago, right out of the blue. The team were in the finals of the Inter-university Championship, and she’d been so excited about it, but suddenly she just quit. No proper explanation. Just said she’d got fed up with it.’
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