Kate stared at the woman, trying to imagine her as she might have looked thirty years ago. The grin was familiar but the hair colour was wrong. The girl she was vaguely remembering had been fair-haired with a long fringe. The brunette spikes were confusing her.
‘Libby Walker?’
The other woman’s smile widened.
‘Fancy meeting you here,’ she said to Kate. ‘It’s been a long time. Would’ve thought you’d have moved away for good. Can’t see why anybody would come back once they’d managed to escape.’
‘Things change,’ Kate said, hoping to curtail the conversation. ‘I wanted a promotion and this is where I ended up.’
The FLO shook her head again and looked Kate up and down. ‘Detective Inspector, eh? You always were one of the clever ones at school. I’m not surprised that you’ve made something of your life.’
‘You’re obviously not doing so bad yourself,’ Kate responded, returning the scrutiny. ‘No uniform? You’ve obviously done okay.’
Liz grinned. ‘Trained as an FLO as soon as I joined CID. It suits me better than day-to-day investigation. I’m better with people than paperwork.’
Kate nodded appreciatively. She’d worked with some excellent FLOs in Cumbria and they’d always been prepared to go above and beyond for whichever family they’d been assigned to. It wasn’t a soft option for a police officer – the balancing act of having an active role in the investigation and providing support to the family was never an easy one to maintain.
‘How are they?’ she asked, nodding in the direction of the kitchen, assuming that was where the family would have gathered.
‘Holding up. They’ll not be best pleased to see you two, though.’
That was what Kate had been dreading. She and Hollis had no good news, no hope, just more questions and she knew that, as soon as she mentioned Aleah Reese, these parents would start making assumptions that they shouldn’t have to make. But Cooper hadn’t been able to find anything and Kate had to know if there was any connection.
‘Come through,’ Liz said, leading the way. Kate gestured for Hollis to go first, hoping that his bulky presence might offer some reassurance before she started asking the questions that the parents wouldn’t want to answer.
The kitchen was almost a mirror image of Jackie Reese’s. The units were a similar light wood and the counter tops almost the same shade of dark grey marble. Obviously the two women shopped at the same place. It wasn’t much of a connection though, the same taste in kitchens. Two people were sitting at the table, opposite each other. The woman was staring into a mug but the man looked up when they entered and Kate saw the unmistakable light of hope flicker in his eyes.
‘Trevor? Anna? Two detectives are here to ask you some questions.’
The light in Trevor Goodwin’s eyes died, to be replaced with a slowly smouldering rage. He resented their presence before they could even open their mouths.
‘I’m Detective Inspector Kate Fletcher,’ Kate introduced herself. The man scowled, his face reddening. He looked like a boxer who’d gone to seed. His slightly off-centre nose gave him a faintly boss-eyed look and his large lips and ears looked like he might have been on the receiving end of a few well-aimed punches. He thrust his double chin out in a pugnacious challenge.
‘I think we should be the ones asking questions.’
His wife continued to study the contents of her mug, refusing to acknowledge their presence.
‘I can understand your frustration,’ Kate said. ‘But if–’
‘Can you? Can you really understand what we’re going through? Because, unless you’ve had a child kidnapped by god knows who, I somehow doubt that you have the first fucking idea!’ Suddenly he was on his feet and in her face.
Hollis took a step towards the two of them but, before he could intervene, rescue came from an unexpected source.
‘Trev, sit down. They’re only doing their job.’
Anna Godwin had put down the mug and was watching the confrontation unfold with an expression of boredom as though she’d been expecting this and just had to wait for it to be over before the real conversation could start.
Kate got her first real look at the woman and was surprised to see her smile apologetically.
‘Trevor’s always been a bit highly strung,’ she said as though talking about a wayward pet. ‘But he means well. Sit down Trev.’
‘Liz, will you get the detectives some tea or a glass of water?’ She spoke to the FLO as though she was a treasured housekeeper or ancient retainer who had been on the staff for decades.
‘I’m fine thanks,’ Kate and Hollis said in unison and Anna nodded, satisfied that social niceties had been upheld. She was very different from her husband. Where he was round, she was angular. Where he was slightly asymmetrical, she was perfectly balanced and delicate. Her dark blue eyes studied Kate with shrewd intelligence from beneath her copper fringe.
‘Please sit,’ she said. ‘And ask your questions.’
Kate pulled out a chair and sat next to Trevor Goodwin while Hollis sat slightly away from the table on a stool against the wall. He took his notebook out of his inside breast pocket and waited.
They’d agreed that they would try to stick to finding a connection between the Goodwins and the Reeses. The facts of the child’s disappearance had been established earlier and both she and Hollis had read the parents’ statements. There was little to be gained from going over too much old ground. But Anna Goodwin had other ideas.
‘I feel so responsible,’ she said, looking from Kate to Hollis. ‘I only popped back in to get a drink. He was on his scooter, just going up and down the driveway and turning around on the street. I’d been in the garden watching him. It was hot so I went to get us both some juice and when I came back he was gone.’
She was struggling to retain control. Her husband reached across the table and covered one of his wife’s tiny hands with a huge paw. She might be blaming herself but he obviously didn’t share her feelings.
‘I just don’t understand,’ she continued. ‘There have been police cars patrolling the estate ever since Aleah Reese went missing. I saw two that morning and one even stopped at the entrance to the square. How could somebody just grab him like that without anybody seeing? It doesn’t make sense.’
She wiped her eyes with a screwed-up tissue that had been sitting on the table in front of her.
‘I’m sorry, Mrs Goodwin. We don’t have any answers just yet but we need to get some more information. You just mentioned Aleah Reese. Do you know the family?’
Anna shrugged. ‘Everybody knows everybody round here. I’ve spoken to Jackie a few times. I don’t really know Craig though. I know who he is but I’ve not had much to do with him.’
Hollis made a note.
‘How well do you know Jackie Reese?’
‘In passing really. I’m not from round here. I moved here after I married Trevor. He’s Thorpe born and bred.’
Mr Goodwin grunted as though reluctantly accepting a compliment.
‘Do you know the Reeses?’ Hollis asked.
‘I’ve seen Jackie around,’ Trevor said. ‘I’ve had a pint or two with Craig in The Lion. It’s not like we’re friends or anything.’
‘So, you’ve never worked at the same place? Been to the same school? Had the same friends?’
Goodwin shrugged.
‘I probably went to the same school as Jackie. Don’t remember her though. Most folk round here went to Thorpe Comp. I’m not sure about Craig. I thought he was from over Rotherham way somewhere. I think he had an older sister who went to our school but I’m not sure.’
It wasn’t enough. There was no specific link. A few pints and a few years apart at school didn’t make much of a connection.
‘Do you know Jud Reese, Craig’s dad?’ Kate tried.
‘Same really. Might have said hello in passing. I know who he is because he used to work with my dad at the pit. I think he was something big in the union during the strike.’
Kate saw Hollis out of the corner of her eye. He was writing frantically. Obviously, this was something that he thought they should pursue.
‘Your dad was a miner?’
Goodwin just shrugged as if to say wasn’t everybody’s?
‘Did they work the same shift?’ Hollis asked. ‘Would they have known each other quite well?’
‘I think so. I remember him coming round to my dad’s during the strike. My dad was responsible for the money the union got – donations and that, I think – he decided who got what.’
‘What about Jackie Reese’s dad – Carl Loach. Do you know him?’
‘I know of him,’ Goodwin said. ‘Can’t say I know him. He’s got a bit of a reputation for having a temper – or he did have when I was a kid. I always steered clear.’
‘Did he work with your dad?’
‘Probably. Can’t say I remember though.’
It wasn’t much but there was something there, Kate thought. Three men linked by the pit and the strike. Was somebody harbouring a grudge that had been festering for thirty years? Somebody who was punishing families for something that had happened a long time ago?
‘We need to talk to your father,’ she said.
Goodwin smiled sadly. ‘Wish you could, love, but he’s been dead for three years. Lung cancer.’
Kate nearly swore aloud. The threads of these two cases seemed to be knitting together, there was the faint outline of a connection, a link between Aleah Reese and Callum Goodwin, but if Trevor’s dad was dead, the idea of Callum’s kidnap being some sort of punishment for something that he’d done in the past didn’t quite work. She was missing something.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said to Goodwin, who nodded his acceptance of her condolences.
Then another thought struck her, another possible link based on some of the information that Cooper had dug up from Loach’s record.
‘Does the name Paul Hirst mean anything to you?’
Goodwin thought for a minute and then shook his head.
‘Never heard of him. Should I have?’
‘It was just a thought,’ Kate said. ‘You’ve been really helpful, Mr Goodwin. If there’s anything that you or your wife think of that you haven’t already mentioned, please let us know. And if there’s anything you need…’
‘We just need our Callum back safe,’ Anna murmured. ‘Nothing else matters.’
Kate nodded and stood up to leave.
‘What was that about Paul Hirst?’ Hollis asked.
‘Cooper dug the name up earlier, remember? He was roughed up by Jackie Reese’s dad during the strike. Some sort of fight.’
Hollis nodded. ‘That’s right. Something about him being a scab. Two assaults. Poor bloke killed himself in the end. I don’t see what that’s got to do with Callum Goodwin though.’
‘Nor do I,’ Kate said. ‘But there’s a link between Callum’s grandad and Aleah’s. They both worked at the pit, they were both on strike. Goodwin said that his dad was involved with the union. He’d have known Hirst.’
‘And so would half the men in Thorpe. Including your own father, I suppose. Everybody worked down the pit. But that was years ago.’
It was, but Kate could clearly hear Jean Loach telling her that people round here had long memories. She was just about to tell Hollis the same thing when her phone pinged – an email had just landed in her inbox.
She unlocked the screen and tapped the app. Cooper. The subject line simply said ‘Interesting?’ and the email contained an attachment. Kate tapped again and a newspaper article appeared on her screen, obviously a photograph that Cooper had taken with her phone judging by the quality. Kate drew her finger and thumb outwards and expanded the image until the headline jumped out at her.
GIRL DROWNS ON QUARRY SITE.
‘Bastards!’ she spat. The press had put their spin on the story before cause of death had been officially released. Hollis gave her a quizzical glance while trying to keep his attention on the road in front of them.
‘Cooper’s sent a newspaper article about Aleah. Raymond’s still preparing his next press briefing about Aleah’s death. He was due to give it today but he’s holding off because of this new case.’
‘They were bound to come up with something,’ Hollis said. ‘People talk. The local news covered her disappearance on Tuesday evening and there was all sorts of speculation on there. She’s been on the evening bulletins ever since – it was only a matter of time before they began speculating.’
Kate nodded, trying to focus on the words. What she was reading didn’t make sense. The names, the circumstances were completely different. The article wasn’t about their case.
‘It’s not Aleah,’ she said. ‘It’s another girl.’
She scrolled back to the top of the image. The dateline was just visible in the top right-hand corner of the image. June 10th, 1975.
‘What the fuck?’
She scrolled down again trying to make sense of what he was reading but the motion of the car was making it difficult to focus.
‘Pull over,’ she told Hollis.
‘But we–’
‘Now. Hollis. Just pull over.’
He flicked on the indicator and pulled into a bus stop.
Kate continued to read.
GIRL DROWNS ON QUARRY SITE
The body of seven-year-old Tracy Moore was recovered from the former Jepson’s Quarry in Thorpe on Thursday. Her parents had reported her missing on Sunday but it wasn’t until an anonymous tip was received that the police started to scour the site. The girl’s body was discovered in one of the ventilation shafts which had provided air to the brickworks flue which had occupied the north side of the site until its demolition in 1970. Cause of death was declared as drowning due to the violent storms and accompanying heavy rains last week.
Although the death is not being treated as suspicious, it remains unclear how the girl came to be in the ventilation shaft. The area is well known among local children, many of whom play there despite the dangers. It seems likely that she was exploring and got stuck. If anybody has any further information please contact South Yorkshire Constabulary.
Below the headline was a grainy image of a school photograph, presumably of Tracy Moore. Kate switched from the article to her contacts list and tapped.
‘Cooper, where did you find this?’
‘Online. It was in the South Yorkshire Times archives. I printed it out and sent you a photo of the print-out. Sorry it’s poor quality, but the image of the original article was pretty awful. I tried to sharpen it up a bit but–’
‘Cooper. Not the time.’ Kate snapped, unwilling to get bogged down in one of Cooper’s lengthy explanations of the limitations of the technology available to her. ‘What else did you find out about the site? Was it filled in because of this girl’s death?’
‘No. It was already being filled in by then. It was finished in 1989.’
‘And then it was landscaped?’
Cooper laughed.
‘And then it was abandoned. The owners had the gates locked and left it to grass over. Nothing’s been done to it since. I’ve checked company and land registries. It’s still owned by the Jepson Company but it’s never been on the market. Useless I suppose, because of the industrial contamination.’
Kate was suddenly lost in the memory of walking home from school accompanied by the constant rumble as lorry after lorry wound its way up the quarry track, with new loads of soot and rubble and other debris, to fill in the massive hole in the village. It was still being filled in when they’d left.
‘So, who’s this kid?’ Kate asked.
‘Local I think. Just playing. Wrong place, wrong time.’
‘Poor bugger,’ she murmured. ‘Keep digging Cooper. See what else you can find.’
She hung up and filled Hollis in.
‘So, this was forty years ago?’ he said.
Kate nodded. ‘I remember my dad warning us about playing in the quarry. He said that there was all
sorts of stuff from the factories in Sheffield being dumped there.’
‘Did you know about the ventilation shafts?’
Kate thought. She had known. As soon as she’d read the article something had stirred in her memory. She was quite young, still in the infants’ school probably. Her mum was alive because she could remember that both her parents had been present when her father had given her his sternest warning to date. He’d reminded her about the piles of soot from the factory but he’d seemed more concerned about the other part of the quarry, where the brickworks had been. Had he said something about tunnels? Or shafts? She wasn’t sure but she remembered that his face had been deadly serious and her mother had held her hand while she listened. The timing could easily have coincided with the discovery of Tracy Moore’s body.
‘I’m not sure. There were all kinds of stories about the quarry from piles of acidic soot that would melt your skin off to strange men who would take you off to live in their caves with them. It was just somewhere that we weren’t allowed to go and I never challenged that – just took it all at face value.’
‘Do you think there’s a link though? This kid drowned forty years ago.’
Kate shrugged.
‘I don’t know, but I want to go back out there and have a look around. And I want a map of the site before it was filled in,’ she said, calling Cooper back.
2015
The PDF map that Cooper had emailed wasn’t brilliant on a five-inch phone screen but it gave Kate some idea of the layout of the former quarry and brickworks. She could zoom in on some of the details but for others she had to rely on memory. Standing at the rusted gates she checked her position against the map and set off across the waste ground with Hollis in tow.
‘What are we looking for?’ he asked, slightly breathless from the heat and the pace.
‘I want to work out the position of the pond in relation to the ventilation shaft where the girl’s body was found in 1975.’
‘You think there’s a connection?’
Kate stopped suddenly, turning her head left and right to try to get her bearings and Hollis ran into her back.
The Kate Fletcher Series Page 12
