The Kate Fletcher Series

by Heleyne Hammersley

  ‘Her sister went missing in eighty-six,’ Hollis said, still staring at the posters.

  Suddenly her use of the word ‘shrine’ made more sense. This wasn’t Caroline’s bedroom; it was Jeanette’s. Everything in it screamed fifteen-year-old girl. She took a closer look at the Bananarama poster, taking in the detail of the corners and the barely discernible fold through the middle. Brown lines indicated where the staples from the magazine had held the poster in the middle pages. The corners were dog-eared and one was slightly torn as though it had been ripped down in a hurry and not handled with any great care.

  The film posters were glossy but the edges had lost their shine and, again, the corners bulged slightly. Perhaps they’d once been hung with huge pieces of Blu Tack rather than the drawing pins that held them in their current positions.

  ‘These are genuine; look at how the edges are browning.’

  Hollis took a step inside the room and peered at David Bowie. ‘These are over thirty years old? They’re in bloody good condition considering they’re not much younger than me.’

  ‘They’ve been treasured,’ Kate said. ‘Caroline must have been looking after these for years. I think they were her sister’s. In fact, I think this was her sister’s bedroom. Not in this house, obviously, but in Dennis’s house. I bet she kept this stuff safe until she had a chance to recreate Jeanette’s room.’

  ‘Creepy,’ Hollis muttered.

  ‘Maybe,’ Kate agreed. ‘Maybe she never really got over the loss of her sister; wanted to keep her alive in some way.’

  ‘Alive? She was never found. We don’t know that she’s dead. She could have just run away and grown up in a different part of the country.’

  ‘She’s dead, Dan,’ Kate said with certainty. ‘I can’t believe that she’d stay away from her family for so long. Maybe not her parents, but her little sister? Surely she’d have come forward by now.’

  The room was giving her the creeps. It was so much like her own bedroom in Thorpe that she half expected to hear her dad shout her down for her tea or her sister, Karen to come barging in to tell her the latest in one of her many friendship sagas.

  ‘You okay,’ Hollis asked, frowning with concern. ‘You look miles away.’

  ‘This room brings back a lot of memories, that’s all. Wouldn’t want to be that age again.’ She took a last look around and then went back to the room that Caroline appeared to have been using as a study, with Hollis following close behind. He really did seem to be unsettled by the strange bedroom.

  She took her phone out of her pocket and rang Cooper’s line at Doncaster Central.

  ‘Cooper. Did you get the file on Jeanette’s disappearance?’ Kate asked, aware that she had used none of the usual pleasantries associated with a phone call. Cooper answered in the affirmative.

  ‘Good. I want you to sort through it and give me the details: times, witnesses, statements and details of the police search. If you can also have a look at the newspaper reports that would be really helpful – I want to know what theories there were about this girl’s disappearance.’

  Kate was just sliding her phone into her pocket when it rang. Cooper.

  ‘That was quick,’ Kate joked.

  ‘No I…’ Cooper started then stopped, clearly realising that Kate wasn’t serious. ‘We’ve just had a call from East Yorkshire, went straight through to Raymond who told me to ring you back.’

  ‘Get on with it,’ Kate urged through gritted teeth. Cooper was great with computers but she could take an age to explain something.

  ‘They’ve found Caroline Lambert’s car.’

  ‘Where?’ Kate asked, feeling her pulse rate increase. Finally they seemed to have got a break. She just prayed that it wasn’t in an airport car park or at the ferry terminal near Newcastle.

  ‘Flamborough,’ Cooper said, her tone almost apologetic. ‘It was parked in the car park next to the cliffs at Flamborough Head. It’s locked.’

  ‘Right. Get onto whoever called it in and make sure that nobody touches that car until I get there.’

  Cooper hung up.

  ‘Not good news,’ Kate said to Hollis. ‘Caroline’s car’s been found near Flamborough Head.’

  ‘Where’s that?’ Hollis asked.

  ‘East coast. Near Bridlington,’ Kate explained. ‘It’s popular with bird watchers and suicides.’

  Chapter 27

  It was getting dark when Hollis pulled the car onto Lighthouse Road in Flamborough. They’d continued to speculate about Jeanette Lambert’s whereabouts on the drive but neither had come up with a plausible theory. Hollis remained convinced that the girl had either run away or been abducted and killed and that whoever had done it had found a really good hiding place for the body.

  ‘Do you think, between us, we could write a compelling drama for the BBC?’ Hollis joked. ‘We’ve got some amazing ideas for a plot.’ He flicked on the windscreen wipers as a light drizzle obscured his view.

  ‘I think I’ve lived through enough drama, thanks,’ Kate responded, thinking about the previous summer. ‘This weather’s grim. Are we nearly there?’

  Hollis checked the screen on the satnav. The red line showed that they were less than half a mile from their destination.

  ‘Five minutes and we should see the lighthouse. Hang on.’ He peered out of the side window, looking across Kate. ‘The lighthouse is in the wrong place.’

  Kate followed his gaze and saw a tall, pale tower which looked like it had been plonked in the middle of the green of a golf course. She remembered asking her dad, on a family outing to this part of the coast when she was about six, why the lighthouse had been placed on a golf course. He’d laughingly explained that in the 1600s, when the lighthouse had been built, the coast had looked different and that it would have been even further inland than it was now. But the golf course wouldn’t have been there.

  ‘That’s not it,’ she said. ‘That’s the old one. The new one’s further along on the cliffs. Keep going.’

  Hollis followed her instructions and they pulled into a car park next to the newer lighthouse where Caroline Lambert’s car was cordoned off with cones and police tape. Two uniformed officers were huddled next to the whitewashed wall which ran round the lighthouse, obviously trying to keep out of the biting wind.

  As Kate got out of the car, the door of a dark saloon car two parking spaces away opened and a tall figure stepped out.

  ‘DI Fletcher?’ he asked, extending a hand hidden in a leather glove.

  Kate confirmed her identity and shook hands, faintly repulsed by the cold surface of the glove.

  ‘DS Morrison,’ the man said. ‘East Yorkshire police. I’ve been waiting for you.’

  He was wearing a long, dark, wool coat and his chin nestled in an expensive-looking grey scarf. His dark hair and eyes and sharp nose contributed to the impression that he could be a mafia boss. Kate noted that he hadn’t allowed the two other policemen to shelter in his car and wondered if he was one of those detectives who didn’t like to mix with the ‘lower ranks’.

  She introduced Hollis, and Morrison escorted them both to Caroline Lambert’s car. It was a dark blue BMW 5 series with a two-year-old registration plate.

  ‘Expensive,’ Hollis mused. ‘Wouldn’t want to leave it unattended in the back of beyond for long.’

  Kate saw Morrison’s back stiffen slightly at the ‘back of beyond’ comment but he obviously chose to ignore it.

  ‘One of the uniformed officers noticed the car during a routine sweep of the car park,’ he said. ‘It’s parked in one of the spaces reserved for the lighthouse staff and he didn’t recognise it. We tend to know who’s who in the back of beyond and this car doesn’t belong to any of the regular staff – our man would have recognised it otherwise. When he did a PNC check the number came back as of interest so he rang it in and one of my colleagues called Doncaster. We were told to leave it alone until somebody from South Yorkshire got here. Now you’re here, can you tell me what it’s all about?’
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  ‘The owner of the car is of interest in two murder cases,’ Hollis said in a tone that sounded a bit self-important to Kate’s ears. She hoped that the two men weren’t going to get into some sort of territorial pissing contest before they’d even had a look at the car.

  ‘She’s connected with two recent suspicious deaths and appears to have done a runner,’ Kate said, trying to placate Morrison with information. ‘My current concern is that she’s driven here to kill herself.’

  ‘It’s a possibility,’ Morrison conceded. ‘We do get a fair bit of that off the cliffs. I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve been called to attend reports of a jumper.’

  He glanced at Hollis as he said the last word as though it was a challenge to Hollis’s credentials as a detective.

  Kate sighed inwardly. She hated it when colleagues judged themselves and each other on the number and condition of deaths they had attended, and she prayed that Hollis wouldn’t rise to the bait.

  ‘Never seen one,’ Hollis said amiably. ‘I’m sure it’s not pleasant.’

  Morrison sniggered. ‘Not pleasant? Can you imagine what falling nearly four hundred feet onto rocks does to a body? It’s better when they choose a high tide and get washed out to sea. At least that way we don’t have to scrape them up into a bag.’

  ‘Fascinating as this is,’ Kate said, hoping her tone conveyed exactly the opposite sentiment, ‘I’d like to get a look at the car before we lose the light completely. I notice there’s not a SOCO team on site yet.’

  ‘They’re on their way,’ Morrison said. ‘I gave it a couple of hours so that they’d be here around the same time as you. Not sure what the point is, though. All you’ll get are the driver’s prints and trace from her house. It’s not like somebody kidnapped her and pushed her off the cliffs.’

  Kate was struggling to hide her annoyance at Morrison’s smug attitude and sloppy police work. He was probably right but, if there was an outside chance that there was evidence in the car linking Caroline to Maddie Cox, or anything that would shed light on the relationship with her father, then they needed to know. She stepped closer to the car and tried to peer into the driver’s side window but the last rays of the setting sun were making it difficult to make out the interior. She walked round to the other side where the light was actually helpful and was surprised to see an envelope on the passenger seat.

  ‘Not uncommon,’ Morrison said when Kate pointed it out to him. ‘A lot of jumpers like to leave a final farewell.’

  She was prevented from berating Morrison for his lack of empathy by headlights on the lane leading to the car park.

  A few seconds later, a van pulled in next to Kate’s car and three figures got out.

  ‘Right. Looks like you’ve got your SOCO team,’ Morrison said, stuffing his hands into his pockets. ‘It’s past time I knocked off for the day, and I don’t think you’ll need me for this bit.’

  ‘What about a dive team?’ Kate asked, determined not to allow him to simply slope off home, or to the pub or wherever he might want to go. ‘Surely you’ve contacted the coastguard?’

  Morrison sighed and stared at her as if she were an infant who was having difficulty grasping a simple concept.

  ‘If she went off at high tide, a dive team won’t find her. There’s nothing on the rocks – Laurel and Hardy over there have already had a walk along the coast to have a look.’ He inclined his head towards the uniformed officers. ‘She might wash up in a few days, she might not. Depends what time she went in the sea.’

  He turned away and started walking back to his car.

  ‘CCTV,’ Kate called after him. ‘I’ll need CCTV for the car park. There’s a camera at the entrance. It’ll confirm what time she arrived. Could you sort that out for me, please? You’ll know who to contact, I’m sure.’

  She turned back to the suited figures surrounding Caroline Lambert’s car and heard Hollis snigger.

  ‘Nice one,’ he whispered.

  ‘Can’t stand arrogant, lazy coppers,’ Kate said. ‘And well done for not getting into a pissing contest with him.’

  ‘Not worth it,’ Hollis said. ‘He outranks me.’

  ‘For now. You might want to think about doing something about that. Get your sergeant’s exams done?’

  ‘Maybe,’ Hollis muttered, walking away from her so that he could watch the forensics team from a better angle.

  Kate was surprised. He was a good DC, keen but measured in his approach, and he was good with people. He’d make an excellent sergeant but he’d never shown much interest in promotion. A summons from the car interrupted her train of thought.

  ‘We’re in,’ one of the white-suited figures said. Kate strode over and peered at the interior of the BMW. Like Caroline’s house, it was spotless. Kate prayed that it hadn’t had a quick valet since Maddie Cox’s murder.

  ‘I need to see what’s in that letter,’ she said to the woman holding the door open.

  The woman smiled sympathetically, her blue eyes crinkling with regret as she told Kate that she’d have to wait until it had been dusted for fingerprints. Kate took a step back and watched as the boot was opened to reveal a suitcase. After taking photographs, one of the team lifted it up to examine the rest of the boot but, apart from an unused spare wheel, it was empty.

  ‘Can I have a look in the suitcase?’ Kate asked.

  The forensics officer frowned before handing her a pair of nitrile gloves.

  ‘Give me a second,’ he said before raising the camera and firing off a series of shots of the suitcase in situ, the camera clicking in rapid motion like a professional photo shoot.

  Kate waited until he’d finished and then leaned into the boot.

  The suitcase was red and soft-sided with a zip fastening that ran around three sides. There were attachments on the slider for a padlock but Caroline didn’t appear to have been especially worried about the security of her belongings as she hadn’t bothered to lock the case. Kate undid the zip and pushed back the lid, leaving the suitcase gaping like an open mouth in the boot of the car.

  She called Hollis over to witness her examination of the contents and he peered over her shoulder as she carefully peeled back layers of jumpers, trousers and blouses, each one recorded by a series of camera flashes. A pair of black leather shoes and a pair of brilliant white, obviously new, trainers lay at the bottom.

  ‘No laptop,’ Hollis observed.

  Kate undid the strings of a toiletries bag: deodorant, soap, miniature shampoo and conditioner, lipstick, toothbrush and toothpaste. Everything looked like it had been bought recently for a holiday or a trip.

  ‘Why would she bother to pack a bag if she was intending to drive up here and kill herself?’ Hollis mused.

  It was a valid question and one to which Kate had no answer.

  ‘Maybe she wasn’t sure,’ Hollis continued. ‘She might have just decided to run away, to disappear. Or she might have been worried that she couldn’t go through with it.’

  Kate wasn’t convinced. She’d not dealt with many suicides during her career but she’d never heard of anybody having a contingency plan in case they bottled out. Suicide was so final; such a clear end to the difficulties that a person might be facing.

  ‘Dan, how did you know that she hadn’t just gone out for a couple of hours this morning?’

  Hollis’s brow furrowed in concentration as if trying to remember the sequence of events which had alerted him to Caroline Lambert’s absence.

  ‘The neighbour,’ he said. ‘One of her neighbours from further down the road had seen her putting a suitcase in the car as he walked past with his dog. He said that she seemed to be struggling with it and he’d asked if she needed a hand. That would have been early this morning.’

  Kate tried to picture the scene. The drive of the house was enclosed by chest-high gates and the garden was surrounded by shrubs. It would have been easy for Caroline to have loaded up her car without being seen. Unless she’d wanted the neighbour to see the suitcase
, and seeing her struggling with it would have made the contact all the more memorable.

  ‘I think this is a set-up,’ Kate said to Hollis. ‘She wanted us to know that she’d done a runner and she wanted us to find her car. I bet she’s on CCTV somewhere from the A1 to here – she’ll have picked a route where there’s likely to be a camera.’

  ‘So you don’t think she killed herself?’ Hollis asked, glancing towards the clifftop.

  ‘Honestly? I have no idea. We need to see what’s in the envelope that she left.’

  ‘I think the SOCOs have finished with it,’ Hollis said, glancing round the side of the car. Kate strode back to the passenger door and tapped one of the overall-clad figures on the shoulder. The woman turned around and her eyes briefly blazed with irritation.

  ‘Envelope,’ Kate said. ‘I need to see what’s inside.’

  Wordlessly, the woman leaned down and picked up the white rectangle. She passed it to Kate and reached down to remove a scalpel from the foam padding of her crime scene case. ‘Use this,’ the woman said, holding it out handle first.

  Kate inserted the tip of the blade in the gap where the flap was folded over. A flash made her blink as the SOCO took a photograph. She eased the scalpel along the top of the envelope. A single piece of paper lay folded inside.

  Watched closely by Hollis and the forensics officer, she slid the paper out and unfolded it.

  Two words were written across the middle in black block capitals.

  ‘What the hell?’ Hollis whispered.

  Chapter 28

  ‘Thanks for coming in so early,’ Kate addressed her team as they gathered in the meeting room at Doncaster Central, all nursing mugs of hot drinks that she’d provided from the canteen. ‘As you know, Caroline Lambert is officially missing. We have no idea whether she has taken her own life or whether she abandoned her car at Flamborough Head and has absconded. A local lifeboat crew will search the area around and below the cliffs today but they’re not hopeful as, according to the car park CCTV, Caroline arrived a few minutes before a high winter tide.’