Darkest Night

by Jenny O'Brien

  The weak May sunshine, warm on her face, couldn’t stop a wave of icy-cold trickle down her spine. Even after a break of two years, she still regretted her decision to walk away from the one thing that had meant everything. But she didn’t have the luxury of explaining her reasons for ending their marriage. Paul was one of the most honourable men she’d ever met – she knew he’d have fought to stay by her side at the expense of his own career. Her heart ached at where her thoughts were leading. Children. The very next step in their plans, plans that she’d annihilated along with her marriage vows.

  ‘The car is this way,’ Amy said, touching her arm for her to follow. ‘Have you decided yet if you’d like to drop by the flat to pick up some gear? It’s something you’ll have to do at some point, and it will save you having to go back in a couple of days.’

  ‘That’s very kind of you but I don’t think that—’

  ‘Believe me, it’s not kindness.’ Amy opened the car door and, heading around the bonnet, slipped behind the wheel before turning back to Christine, her hands resting lightly around the steering wheel. ‘Who knows what memories might be triggered by entering your apartment? I think you need to find out what happened that morning nearly as much if not more than we do and, for that to happen, you need to face your fears head on. It’s only a flat at the end of the day. Bricks and mortar can’t hurt you and I’m more than happy to be beside you all the way.’

  Christine dropped her eyes to her lap while she made her decision, although the detective had already made it for her. If there was something in the flat, something that could spark the gaps in her memory, then she had to go back.

  ‘You’re right, of course you are.’

  The trip from St Asaph’s station to the West Shore didn’t take long. Within half an hour Amy had reversed into a parking place only a couple of houses away and switched off the engine.

  ‘If at any point you feel this is too much or the wrong decision then let me know and we’ll leave immediately.’

  Christine felt like telling her there and then that it was the wrong decision. She’d never felt more cowardly in her life. But instead of airing her thoughts, she followed her out of the car and through the wrought-iron gate that led up to the front door, her keys back in her hand. The one thing she’d never been was a coward and a fit of the vapours wouldn’t help anyone, least of all her. If what Amy said was true, she might be about to remember something instrumental in bringing closure to this waking nightmare.

  The communal hall was the same, the muted creams and browns a familiar and welcome sight after the ignominy of the police cell. She paused at the top of the stairs, looking back down before inserting the key in the door. It was too late to turn tail and run. She had to face her demons. The only big problem was she had no idea exactly what those demons were.

  Chapter 23

  Gaby

  Tuesday 12 May, 2 p.m. St Asaph Hospital

  ‘It never rains but it pours,’ Gaby said, catching the eye of the receptionist as she shrugged off her waterproof mac. ‘Half an hour ago there were only a couple of clouds in the sky.’

  ‘Having a bad day, love? You’ll find a coat-rack behind the door.’

  ‘The worst of days.’ Gaby shook her plait free of errant raindrops before making her way across the room. While she’d visited a variety of areas in the hospital before, the children’s social work department was new to her and she felt her smile growing at the sight of the brightly coloured walls displaying an array of Disney characters, a smile that quickly faded when she remembered exactly why she was here.

  ‘I’m DS Darin by the way. I’m here to meet with a Sue Sullivan.’

  The receptionist’s face flashed with interest, her fingers busily tapping away on her keyboard, but all she said was, ‘She’s waiting for you in room two, second door on the left.’

  Gaby gave her a quick smile of thanks, all her thoughts on the interview ahead, an interview she was already late for. Meeting with social workers was all part and parcel of her day-to-day job as a police officer but child interviews were tricky and a task she was happy to leave to the professionals. Susan Sullivan, the woman she was about to see, had a reputation which preceded her across the Welsh network. But she’d be no pushover and who knew what she’d be able to find out from a couple of six-year-olds.

  She pasted another smile on her face before lifting her hand to knock on the door and push it open.

  The room wasn’t anything special, just an office with the expected desk and swivel chair. But it wasn’t the office that interested her – it was the middle-aged man and woman trying to entertain a couple of book-end boys still dressed in their school uniform of blue sweatshirt, grey trousers and black lace-ups.

  After another round of introductions Gaby sat back in her chair, more than happy to let Sue take the lead.

  ‘As I was saying, Mr and Mrs Wood, all we’ll do today is take the boys next door for a little play. It will only take about half an hour.’

  ‘But we’d like to be present. Surely you can’t speak to them without one of us there?’ Mrs Wood, stout and red-faced, started to stand, bristling with indignation.

  ‘It will be better if you’re not,’ Gaby interrupted. She didn’t want to tell them that they had no choice in the matter. It would only put their backs up unnecessarily and she was well aware that it was their daughter who was missing. She softened her voice, making sure to maintain eye contact. ‘The sooner we can find out any information to help find your daughter, the better. They’ll be quite safe with Mrs Sullivan.’

  Gaby watched the woman sink back down like a deflating balloon, her hand instinctively reaching out for that of her husband. While her heart went out to her, the stark truth was she needed this interview. The hope was the boys had either seen or heard something that she could tell the team at their three o’clock catch-up.

  Sue stood and approached the two boys who were both engrossed in watching a cartoon on their grandmother’s phone.

  ‘Hello again, Saul and Solomon. Granny and Grandpa are about to have a cup of tea, which all sounds a bit boring to me. How about I take you next door? I’ve had a new box of Lego delivered but I’m a bit stuck,’ she said, her lips turned down at the corners. ‘I really need a hand from a couple of clever boys like you or my digger will never get built.’

  Gaby tried and failed to settle her face into a bland mask at the immediate reaction. Susan had them at Lego but had managed to reel them in like a prize salmon at digger, the phone thrust back into their granny’s lap without a backward glance.

  Within seconds a tray of tea and biscuits had arrived as if out of nowhere enabling Gaby to follow Sue and the boys without any of the awkward questions she’d been expecting.

  The viewing room, next door but one to Sue’s office, was just that. A box of a room with four walls, one of which had been given over to a two-way mirror shrouded in a blue floral curtain. Gaby worked the string and flicked on the microphone before settling back in the only chair available.

  The large playroom in front of her was set out with dolls’ houses, play kitchens and shelves full to heaving with every game under the sun. But she wasn’t interested in anything apart from the two identical boys leaning across the central table, their fair hair cut into a spiky cut by a loving hand; her stomach twisted at the thought. She had a bad feeling about Tracy Price. She’d had a bad feeling right from the very beginning.

  Forcing her thoughts to calm, she concentrated on the conversation between the three of them as they poured over the instructions.

  ‘I’m pretty sure I’ve gone wrong somewhere and I so wanted to finish it by this afternoon,’ said Sue.

  ‘Here.’ A chubby finger pointed, first at the chart and then to the bucket of the digger and where it was hanging off in a decidedly lopsided fashion. ‘You need a double-ended connector for that bit,’ he said, searching in the large box full of pieces.

  Gaby watched the petite blonde rest back on her heels, a broad smile o
n her face. ‘You are clever. So, do you have this model at home then?’

  ‘No, but Jacob next door sometimes lets us play with his,’ the other brother answered, working on the wheels. ‘I have a truck and Solly has an aeroplane. Dad sometimes comes and helps with the hard parts though,’ he said, his tongue clasped between his teeth.

  ‘Oh, dads are good at Lego. My dad is a whizz.’ She wasn’t looking at the boys when she spoke, all her attention on the pieces in front of her, her long slim hands deftly fitting together the axel.

  ‘And Mum, although she doesn’t have much time what with work and all.’

  ‘Yes, indeed. And she has to run around after you too although I’m sure you’re a great help.’

  Gaby couldn’t help a small twitch of her lips at the serious nods being made in Sue’s direction. ‘Does she take you to school too and pick you up or does your dad help out?’

  ‘Only Mum. Dad has to leave really early for work and sometimes we don’t even see him at night.’

  ‘Oh, he must work really hard,’ she said, her head still averted, her hand rummaging a long time in the box. ‘So, who took you to school yesterday?’

  ‘Mum, as usual,’ Saul said, his little forehead puckered into a frown. ‘Mondays are her old people day. She usually brings us back some sweets on a Monday.’ He stopped, his bottom lip starting to quiver. ‘Dad picked us up instead.’

  Sue’s hand stilled, her thumb and forefinger clutching onto a long yellow strip of Lego, her gaze flicking towards him before returning to her task. ‘Well, I’m sure it made a nice change having your dad pick you up for once. Mums sometimes need a break. So, what kind of sweets do you normally get on a Monday then?’

  ‘Marshmallows, one of the old ladies gives her a packet for us to share each week and sometimes we get to draw her a thank you card. I’m not very good at drawing, Solomon is much better.’

  ‘Oh, I can’t believe that. Do you think if I go and see this lady, she might give me some marshmallows too?’

  ‘You might be too old, but you could always ask,’ Saul said, his hands full of Lego.

  ‘Do you know where she lives?’

  ‘Mummy took us once, but I don’t really remember.’ Saul chose another piece with care, turning it over in his hands before replying. ‘There were lots of old people, but Mrs Glynne was by far the nicest.’

  Chapter 24

  Gaby

  Tuesday 12 May, 3 p.m. St Asaph Police Station

  ‘Right. Before we start … I have some news.’

  All eyes lifted to stare at DCI Sherlock and a silence descended. There’d been recent rumours coursing through the station about pending job losses and everyone was worried. The annual budget had been cut year-on-year and, with crime figures escalating, the squeeze was on. Gaby sat back and watched as they exchanged looks, comfortable in the knowledge that, for once, she knew she had nothing to worry about.

  ‘I had a little chat with Gaby earlier,’ he continued with a smile. ‘With DI Tipping still not well, she’s agreed to head up both cases instead of having to bring in outside help. As I’ve said, it’s only an interim measure and we’re all hoping Stewart makes a speedy recovery.’

  ‘Hear hear,’ Owen said, lifting his mug in a mock toast before directing his drink in Gaby’s direction. ‘Well done, Gaby.’

  ‘Thanks, Owen and thank you, DCI Sherlock. I’ll do my best to fill the very large shoes Stewart’s temporarily vacated.’ She walked across the room to stand in front of the couple of large whiteboards. ‘Now back to business. As you all know, we have two cases on our hands: one a missing person’s and one a murder. With regards to Nikki Jones we’ve had to release Christine de Bertrand, due to lack of evidence. We still need to find that blasted knife so, if anyone has any bright ideas, now’s the time to speak up because I’m about to make the difficult decision of pulling all staff off the case until Tracy Price is found,’ she said, inclining her head in Marie’s direction. ‘I know what I said only this morning but things are different now. We’re already reaching the twenty-four-hour mark since she went missing and we all know what that means. We just don’t have the manpower to run two such investigations fully and a missing woman has to take priority.’ Gaby scanned the room only to pause briefly at the sight of Amy’s raised hand.

  ‘I do have a possible lead. It’s not much but I think that Dr Mulholland might be interested in something Christine said when we were at her flat earlier.’ Amy secured her ponytail back off her face before continuing. ‘She’s a keen swimmer and she’s recently taken up scuba diving. She showed me the garage where Mrs Ellis lets her keep her tanks and diving suit rather than having to lug her kit upstairs. Apparently, there was a knife, a double-edged serrated one, particularly used by divers in case they get trapped in nets and what have you. It’s missing.’

  ‘A double-edged serrated diving knife,’ Gaby repeated, picking up a felt-tip marker and adding the words to the first whiteboard. ‘I’ll email the doc straight after this. Thank you. Very helpful. Anything else?’

  ‘No, not really.’ Amy’s brows drew together in a frown. ‘She’s now with her parents. I can’t see her going back to the flat any time soon. She’s either a very good actress or completely devastated by what’s happened.’

  Gaby had lost count of the times she’d heard an officer say those very same words. Criminals by nature were amongst the most accomplished liars around, something she’d learnt the hard way on her previous job. She grimaced, forcing herself to change the direction of her thoughts. Allowing herself the luxury of thinking about St David’s was always risky. Her biggest regret was placing her faith in someone that turned out to be a compulsive liar and a murderer to boot. The only way she could exorcise that horrid memory was with work and with that thought, she dragged her mind back where it belonged. If Tracy was still alive, she’d find her and, if she wasn’t, she’d find her killer instead.

  ‘Anything else on the Jones murder before we go on to Tracy’s disappearance?’

  ‘Only that we’re widening the knife search to all the car parks, lock-ups and garages in the surrounding area,’ Marie said. ‘If the tall, dark stranger exists, he had to have some means of transport. The CCTV was pretty much a waste of time but we’re also checking with all bus routes in addition to the train station and taxis but with only a vague description and no photo it’s going to take a miracle.’

  ‘Okay, thank you. That all looks promising but if you haven’t found it by today, Marie, I’m going to shift you onto the search.’ She noted her nod with a smile before continuing. ‘If no one’s got anything to add let’s concentrate on Tracy now.’ She looked around the room before landing on Owen. ‘I take it there’s no news?’

  ‘Not a dickybird,’ he said, lowering his head back down to his mobile and scrolling through his messages before lifting it again. ‘I have a team of twenty scouring the area but with both beaches and the Great Orme, it’s an enormous task. There’s only been one possible sighting and that turned out to be nothing. The newspapers are all running the story and the husband will appear on the six o’clock news later.’

  Gaby nodded. ‘I’ve just come from the hospital and the interview with her children; remember, apart from the care-home staff and residents, they’re the last people to see her alive. The boys’ version of events is that Monday is usually a good day for them. Their mother always picks them up from school with a bag of sweets – sweets supplied by one of her clients.’ She looked up, catching Jax Williams’ eye. ‘It’s not a completely hopeless task, Jax. We know she’s a self-employed mobile hairdresser, so your first job is ringing around all the old people’s homes and day centres looking for a Mrs Glynne. It will be a nice relief from all that dog walking.’

  ‘Indeed, ma’am.’ His response was nearly as glum as his expression.

  Gaby turned towards Malachy, frowning at the sight of his designer stubble. ‘Malachy, any joy with delving into their lives? What about finances, neighbours, illicit affairs, ske
letons in their knicker drawer?’

  ‘There’s not much, ma’am and certainly no skeletons that we can find. I had the husband do a quick inventory and, as far as he can tell, nothing apart from her diary and phone are missing. So, on the surface it looks as if she returned home from the care-home around lunchtime and left again on foot in the clothes she was standing in, which doesn’t make sense. What woman leaves her handbag behind unless it’s an emergency?’ he said, tilting his head in the direction of the board and the neat list of clothing listed: blue jeans, red jumper and flip-flops. ‘With regards to finances, the house is rented. I’ve been in touch with the letting agent and everything looks to be above board. There are the usual standing orders going out from their joint account each month for rent and utilities but apart from that there doesn’t appear to be anything out of the ordinary. They didn’t have much but appeared to be coping with the odd handout from her parents. I caught up with the senior CSI a few minutes ago. They’ve carried out a thorough search of the property including spraying with Luminol but there’s no blood traces to be found.’ He took a long swig of his drink before returning the mug to his desk. ‘I’ve also conducted a door-to-door, which has only been partially successful. The house on the left is owned by a Mr and Mrs Stevens – the husband runs Stevens’ Chemist in Rhos-on-Sea – but I only got to speak to one of their kids. I’ll hopefully be able to catch up with one or other of them shortly. I had more luck with the house the other side, occupied by a Deborah Miles, a retired schoolteacher. The Prices moved in a couple of years ago and, on the face of it, are ideal neighbours who keep themselves to themselves. She often hears the boys playing in the back garden on the swings and what have you. She’s had more to do with the mother but not much. She occasionally meets her in the front garden when she’s out tending her roses.’ He looked up. ‘Mrs Miles’s roses, that is. The Prices aren’t much into gardening apart from mowing the lawn. I tried to press her on their relationship, but she didn’t have much to say. She used to hear him come in late sometimes and assumed he’d been to the pub. She rarely saw them out as a couple and less so recently.’ He picked up his mug again and drained it in one before settling back in his chair. ‘That’s it for now.’