‘What do you mean?’
‘I’m doing something that I don’t think has been done before, Ted. And I want your advice.’
‘Of course, Kelly. I’m here for you.’
There was a pause.
‘I guess Mum has spoken to you now. She said you were taking her out yesterday.’
Ted blushed a little, remembering his tryst the night before.
‘We went for lunch at the Lodore Hotel.’
‘Nice! When are you taking me?’
‘Whenever I can catch you. You’re always busy.’
There was a short silence, and Ted wanted to fill it, but he was in uncharted waters.
‘Ted, we need to sit down and have a pint. I don’t see you as my father. John Porter was my dad. But if you would like to, I think we should spend a bit of time together.’
‘I should like that very much,’ Ted said. Kelly couldn’t see the grin spreading across his face.
‘Right. Good. Like I said, I’m doing something that hasn’t been done before. I’ve come across too many suicides of school kids that simply shouldn’t have happened.’
Ted grew serious once more. ‘No death should occur, Kelly, apart from expiry from old age, but you can’t control it, I’m afraid. You know that.’
‘But if I can catch the dealers, I can get them for murder because the victims were kids. In the eyes of the law, that’s like pulling the trigger.’
‘It’s a grey area. Suicides are notoriously difficult to overturn. The government doesn’t like the statistics; it makes them look bad. Are you asking me if there are any links between the cases?’
‘Yes. Is there any way of proving the source of the drugs from what you gathered at the autopsy?’
‘Possibly.’
‘That’ll do. Remember the Baby Dale case from two years ago? He was found behind Greenside lead mine.’
‘Yes, indeed I do. Was he reunited with his parents?’
‘Not exactly. His father was a wanted criminal from Sarajevo and the mother disappeared from hospital.’
Ted looked across the lake. He could listen to Kelly all day long and live off her infectious passion for solving riddles. He smiled and waited.
‘He’s gone missing from his foster home and I think our Nedzad Galic is back in town.’
‘Is this related?’ he asked. ‘I’m confused. I had one of your officers asking questions about Jenna Fraser’s file yesterday. How is that linked to the child?’
‘Emma Hide?’
‘Yes, that’s her. We had a chat about fentanyl and the OxyContin that Jenna was prescribed, amongst other substances, and whether batches can be traced. I told her they could, of course.’
‘What are you doing tomorrow?’ Kelly changed the subject yet again. ‘Mum is coming to mine; would you like to join us? I know it’s late notice and I’m sure you have plans already …’
Ted paused, and remembered that today was Christmas Eve. The girls were with Mary this year. It would be the first Christmas he’d spent entirely alone.
‘If it’s all right with your mother, I would love to,’ he replied.
‘We’ll eat at one o’clock. Do you know where I live?’
‘No. You told me you’d moved out of your mother’s.’
‘It’s Pooley Bridge. I’ll send you the address.’
Chapter 41
Christmas Eve was perhaps the worst and best time to record a TV appeal for a missing teenager. It would reach those preparing to spend time with their loved ones, and at the same time hopefully trigger some recollection of the girl who would be absent from the festive day. A day of family, a day of love and peace on earth: the phrase made Kelly baulk. If there was peace on earth, she would be out of a job. If humans could live together without killing one another, she’d be cosied up in a retirement home with Johnny, sipping cocktails and planning their next trip to the Bahamas.
Fat chance.
Kelly hadn’t seen Maggie and Colin Shaw all week, and she felt as though she’d been through some sort of time warp when she first caught sight of them: they both looked as though they’d aged ten years. They’d lost serious amounts of weight, their shoulders were hunched, and dark circles haunted their eyes.
She greeted them in a back room, away from the press. There were camera crews here from all over the country, as well as one from the USA and another from Italy. The plight of the beautiful, innocent girl had caught the imaginations of people thousands of miles away. Kelly had to admit that it bore all the hallmarks of a front-page story, regardless of which language it was written in.
She spoke to the couple about what to expect from such an event. They’d had liaison officers with them all week, who’d remain for as long as the money lasted. Kelly would fight to keep them, but the reality was that at some point, their resources would have to be redirected.
She asked the Shaws to stay on afterwards to chat about something to do with Faith. She hadn’t briefed them at all, and neither had the liaison officers. She didn’t want to affect their TV appearance by bringing in the spectre of the possibility that Faith might have harmed herself, or giving any hint that she was considering a full investigation of the Derwent Academy. It was controversial, but Kelly had looked into it until late the previous night, which was why she felt somewhat groggy today.
She’d read precedents going back ten years on the mental state of suicide cases, and had found countless instances where a single person, not even a group, was implicated in the deterioration of a victim’s mental state just before they took their own life. But none of those mentioned were ever legally held accountable. Not one. It bugged her.
She’d fallen asleep somewhere around 3 or 4 a.m., only to be woken by the bin lorry beeping its horn for someone to move out of the way. The familiar nausea of lack of sleep had punctuated her day ever since. The team brief led by Rob this morning on computer anatomy had almost killed her off entirely.
Now, the sight of Michael Shaw woke her quicker than any strong Italian coffee. He looked lost, but determined at the same time. He had wanted to be involved, and no one was about to tell him he couldn’t be. He sat between his parents, Maggie Shaw clinging onto him.
Kelly had explained to them about when they’d get their opportunity to speak, after which the press would file out and vacate the room. There would be no questions at this time. A liaison officer from HQ would sit with them during the statement and the showing of the photos chosen by the family. In all of them, Faith looked so alive that she almost jumped off the paper. Maggie had said she was certain about what she planned to say, but Colin simply stared blankly ahead. Michael wanted to make a speech, but the liaison officer said it was probably best that he wasn’t given too much exposure, else the media would make a meal out of it; in addition, there were certain protection issues that needed to be adhered to with a minor appearing on a live feed. Michael took it well. Kelly knew that simply his presence would have a huge impact on viewers.
As requested, one of the liaison officers had gained a copy of all the paperwork kept by Mrs Shaw relating to Faith’s school life, and collated it, ready for Kelly to have a look. She was handed an envelope and put it to one side.
They were ready.
Kelly watched them leave the room and heard the cameras whir as soon as the door opened. It closed again and she was left alone. The silence took her by surprise, and she felt injustice rise up inside her. It threatened to suffocate her, and she swallowed hard to fight it. She’d been in the same situation countless times, but she couldn’t get Michael’s face out of her head. The memory of him sitting on Faith’s bed telling Kelly about his sister’s make-up.
She sat down and opened the envelope. Everything was ordered by date. Phone calls to the school, letters written to teachers and the head, copies of texts, WhatsApps, Instagram posts, Snapchats and emails. There were literally hundreds of communications between Mrs Shaw and the school. It seemed that Faith had been hounded daily for the best part of two years,
and no one at Derwent Academy had done anything about it.
She stood up sharply when the door opened once more and the family filed back in. Maggie Shaw was sobbing, and Colin bumped into a chair. Michael walked out of the room into the corridor. Kelly didn’t know which one to see to. Liaison officers surrounded the parents, so she slipped out after the boy.
‘Hey,’ she said. He was kicking the wall; not hard, just a rhythmic tap, tap.
He nodded acknowledgement.
‘What was it like when you moved here? It must have been tough.’
Michael nodded. ‘It was fine. It was Faith who lost it.’
‘Lost what?’
‘The plot.’
‘Oh.’
‘Now they’re losing it.’ He indicated the room where his parents had disintegrated after facing the press.
‘They’re not losing it, they’re suffering. But that doesn’t help you.’
‘I don’t want help.’
‘What do you want?’
‘I want Faith back so everyone can act normal again.’
‘I understand,’ Kelly said. ‘How did she lose it? I mean, when you moved here?’
‘She ran away, she said she wanted to kill herself, she went crazy, she had no friends. Mum and Dad drank a lot of beer.’
Kelly loved that about kids: ask them a straight question, and you got a straight answer. Kids should be coppers, she thought. ‘How did she threaten to kill herself?’ She wanted to be as gentle as she could with him.
‘She got knives out of the drawer and she said she’d meet a stranger.’
‘What kind of stranger?’
‘I dunno. Someone online, you know, stranger danger and all that.’ Michael spoke as if he’d been to a hundred lectures on child protection and was considering changing jobs.
‘Do you think she was serious?’
He shrugged.
‘I thought she was happy now?’ Kelly tried a different angle.
‘It was an act. Children are very good actors, you know.’ When he said this, Michael looked her straight in the eye, and Kelly felt thoroughly outsmarted. She couldn’t work out whether Michael Shaw was a very clever twelve-year-old, way ahead of his years, or if he’d been listening to his relatives talking, supposedly out of earshot.
‘Did she see a doctor about being unhappy?’
‘She saw a shrink.’ The American word jarred with Kelly, but she guessed he heard it a lot if he watched American TV, like most kids did.
‘You know what a shrink is?’
‘Course I do! She stopped going, though; it made her worse. I could have told everyone that, but no one listened to me. There was nothing wrong with her, she just chose crap friends. And she’s a girl.’
‘I don’t know much about what her friends did, Michael, do you?’
‘Yeah, they used to take her places and leave her there. Mum used to go out looking for her in the park and find her on her own. They said we’d move again. I kind of expected it, but we didn’t.’
‘She has different friends now?’
‘No, they were always the same.’
‘Can I get you a Coke?’ Kelly asked. There was a vending machine downstairs, and she wanted to process what she’d heard. Michael’s parents needed some space to calm down before they were driven home. Michael nodded and followed her.
‘So I met Justin this week,’ Kelly said. ‘He was nice, right? The night of the fair?’
‘He only did it because he fancied my sister.’
‘So he was nice to you to gain favour with Faith?’
Michael nodded again. They took the stairs.
‘And what about Luke?’
‘He liked her too. But I told her Mum and Dad would freak if they found out.’
‘Why would they do that?’
Michael looked at her, and a smile began to form at the corners of his mouth.
‘You don’t know a lot for a police detective, do you?’
‘For me to know stuff, I have to have people tell me, and for that they have to trust me.’
‘Everyone at school knows about Luke. All the teachers and adults think he’s amazing and clever and he’s this kind of cool person. But he’s not.’
‘So what is he really like?’
Michael looked at his shoes. ‘He’s in charge. He always knows how to get stuff, and people will do anything for him, to get out of owing him money.’
‘Why do they owe him money?’
Michael gave her another look, but she persevered. She guessed what he was hinting at, but she needed him to say it.
‘What can he get, Michael?’ she asked.
‘Everything.’
‘Are we talking posters of Coldplay? Cans of Fanta?’
Michael raised his eyebrows, reminding Kelly of her mother expressing disappointment at one of her daughter’s moral choices.
‘What about, let’s say, illegal substances that cost quite a lot of money? I’m guessing a bit of skunk, possibly some MDMA or ketamine.’ Kelly went for gold.
Michael’s eyes widened and he leaned in close. ‘Yes. I told Faith not to.’
‘Has he asked you?’
‘Course! Everyone does it.’
‘But not you?’
‘I don’t like being out of control, and I want to join the army.’
Kelly wanted to hug him.
At the vending machine, she bought him a Coke. He guzzled it thirstily, and they went back upstairs. She wished she could take him home. It was like watching a programme on TV where you were drawn in on purpose, but then the door slammed in your face and there was nothing you could do apart from shout at the TV, believing foolishly that they could hear you.
‘Did Faith do drugs?’
‘I don’t know. She never looked whacked.’ Kelly winced at hearing a twelve-year-old speaking in such a way, so confident and knowledgeable.
They went back to the room where the officers were comforting Mr and Mrs Shaw. Michael went to his mother’s outstretched arms. She looked like an empty vessel. The boy was on his own from now on; Kelly knew that to be the truth. And there was absolutely nothing she could do about it.
She said goodbye, and gave Michael a card. No one noticed; she did it subtly.
‘I’m here,’ she said.
He looked at her and nodded in the stoical way that endeared him to her so much.
Once the Shaws had left, Kelly looked through her iPad to find the number of Luke Miles’ insipid excuse for a lawyer.
It was Justin who’d told her two days ago that Sadie was jealous of Faith. Jealous because Luke Miles was infatuated with Faith Shaw. It was another wedge to drive between the friends. Friends who, it would appear, were shaping up to be the epitome of modern counterfeit relationships.
The possibility that Sadie Rawlinson simply wanted to cause damage wherever she could sat further at the forefront of Kelly’s mind. As the law stood, it was the most appalling waste of their time, and nothing else. To date, no one had ever gone to prison for being a bitch.
But there was another scenario. Perhaps Faith was anti-drugs and had refused Luke’s gear too many times.
He wouldn’t be best pleased.
Chapter 42
Craig Lockwood drove to Barrow Park. A forty-five-acre haven of peace and tranquillity in the middle of the town, the park had fought of late to get rid of down-and-outs, drug dealers and otherwise shady characters, and was beginning to win the battle. Rangers now patrolled the grounds, thanks to green-flag status and lottery money; and the smell of piss, the graffiti and the smackheads had all but gone. It was the perfect stage for a liaison.
He was on his way to meet Maria, the madam of the fairground. Travellers had frequented Furness for centuries, and Maria was fourth-generation Romany, originally from Lithuania. Her family had decamped to Britain when Hitler started gassing Jews and gypsies. She and Craig had spent a few years together at the Ramsey secondary school back in the eighties; that was, when Maria attended. She was destined
to run the fair, as her mother did, and her grandmother before her. O levels were never going to change that. They weren’t friends, as such, but they respected one another, and these days swapped the weather forecast and the state of the EU whenever their paths crossed.
It wasn’t often that Craig had actively sought her out, but she’d given him more than a few nuggets over the years, and he’d turned a blind eye to some of the scrapes her sons had found themselves in. Not that he could get away with it any more. Computers, accountability and the death of good old-fashioned judgement left them with little smudge factor these days. It was health and safety combined with political correctness on speed, and it made for a sterile, often sluggish investigative process. But Craig still kept old contacts.
Snow covered the grass and the topiary looked like mounds of marshmallows. The birds were silent in their cages, and the boats were moored until the spring. There was no one around. Maria waited for him in the bandstand. She wore a full-length black North Face quilted jacket, and her dark features made her look like an Eskimo planning some Alaskan fishing quest. The cigarette she was smoking smelled as though it was imported. But that wasn’t Craig’s concern; he wasn’t here for HMRC infringements.
They didn’t acknowledge one another, apart from a shift in body position.
‘Whatever it is, we’ll find it eventually. It’s out of my hands, Maria. It’s a North Lakes investigation too, and it’ll get bigger. We could close you down entirely, and all because of one guy dealing to kids.’
The wind blew her hair gently, and she dropped her cigarette to the floor and stood on it. She exhaled the smoke, and Craig was reminded of all the years that he’d bought twenty a day. He’d kicked the habit nine years ago, but he still adored the smell.
‘His mother was a dear friend of mine,’ she said. She never looked at him.
‘I understand.’
‘I don’t turn over kin. You know that.’
‘Children are involved. You know what that means. I know about the previous, Maria. It’s time to stop protecting him.’
‘Are you threatening me?’ She looked at him, and he stared back. It was a game. A very old, familiar game, in which both sides’ poker face had seen better days.
Bitter Edge Page 18
