The Hiding Place

by Helen Phifer

  Smiling at him she nodded. ‘I’m Megan and God, I know that feeling. We’re searching for a missing child. Do you know Charlie Standish who lives down the street?’

  She pointed towards the council house where there was a lot of police activity. ‘She’s nine years old and has long, blonde hair. Her mum said she plays outside on her own a lot.’

  He nodded. ‘Does she live in one of the council houses? I know who you mean. I don’t actually know her but I see her hanging around sometimes.’

  ‘Did you see her yesterday after school?’

  He shrugged. ‘I might have; I don’t really like kids so I don’t take much notice of them.’

  Megan nodded. She knew this was true. He didn’t have a good time of it, especially with the local teenagers, who called him names. ‘Well, if you see her, please can you let one of us know? Have you got any outbuildings, sheds, garages that kind of thing you can check for me, to make sure she isn’t trapped inside?’

  ‘There’s a shed and a garage but they’re both locked up; I don’t use the garage. The shed is padlocked. Do you still want me to check?’

  ‘Yes, please. You know what kids are like, they get themselves into all sorts of bother exploring.’

  ‘Yes, I suppose they do. Hang on, I’ll go and get the garage keys. You can take a look in there whilst I check the shed. Oh no.’ He shrieked and ran towards the kitchen and his burning cupcakes. She heard the clatter of the oven door being slammed shut and a minute later he rushed back to the front door and passed the key to her.

  ‘Sorry, I nearly burnt the house down but thank goodness the cakes are salvageable. Here you go, you check the garage, I’ll check the shed.’

  He disappeared once more leaving Megan staring after him. She peered inside his house which was not at all what she’d expected. It was very clean and smelt of warm cakes. The decorations were very floral: the walls, rugs and curtains were all a mishmash of every flower imaginable. Walking to the garage attached to the side of the house, she tried the wooden double doors, which were secure. The key didn’t look as if it was going to fit this padlock. She walked a little further around and came across an old wooden door. Pushing the key inside she had to twist it with all her might to get it to turn. It finally gave way and she pushed it open. It was dark inside. Shining her torch around, all she could see were some ancient, dust-covered tools, a rusty bike.

  ‘Anything?’

  ‘Oh my God,’ Megan yelled. She hadn’t heard him come back. ‘You scared the life out of me. No, nothing, what about the shed?’

  He shook his head. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you and no, the shed is empty apart from the lawnmower.’

  ‘Thanks, it was worth a shot.’

  She walked back around to the front of the house. ‘Bye.’

  ‘Bye, I hope you find her soon. If you need anything give me a knock. You’re very welcome to come and grab a hot drink and a cake.’

  With that he went inside the house and closed his front door, and she smiled to herself. He was a bit of a character but kind-hearted.

  Five

  Morgan walked out of the house; the atmosphere inside was awful. She was glad to be outside. Even the cold was better than suffocating inside. She stood at the gate and surveyed the street. Where are you, Charlie? Walking along the pavement, she began to look for the house which had been on their patrol strategy when she was a constable out with Dan Hunt, her tutor. It still smarted thinking about him and it probably always would. She tried to find it; there was definitely one around here where an RSO – registered sex offender – lived with his elderly mother who was in the early stages of dementia. The street was in close proximity to a school – too close for her liking – but he had been allowed to move back because there was no one else to care for her.

  There was a loud squeal of tyres as a large black truck drove straight through the police cordon and slammed on its brakes outside of Charlie’s house. Morgan watched, amazed, as a man in a paint-stained T-shirt and joggers jumped out and ran through the gate into the house. A length of blue and white police tape had wrapped itself around the front of the truck’s heavy-duty chrome bumper and was flapping in the wind.

  Morgan turned and ran back towards the house she’d only just left. She could hear the man’s voice from outside.

  ‘Where is she, Mandy, you tell me where she is?’

  Morgan went inside to see Ben standing in between Amanda and the man who she was assuming was Charlie’s dad, Brett.

  ‘I need you to calm down, Brett, this isn’t helping.’

  ‘Who the fuck are you, her boyfriend? Was she so busy screwing you she left our kid outside on her own again?’

  Morgan saw tiny flecks of red appear on Ben’s cheeks and realised he was not only embarrassed but getting angry. She didn’t think she’d ever seen him react this way since she’d started working with him.

  ‘I’m Detective Sergeant Ben Matthews and I’m leading the search for your daughter. Now unless you have any information pertaining to where Charlie is, I suggest you sit down and answer any questions you’re asked.’

  Brett was standing in front of Ben with his chest puffed out and his arms bunched. He looked as if he was ready to start a bare-knuckle fight. Morgan slipped between them, and Brett’s shoulders relaxed a little.

  ‘I know you must be out of your mind about Charlie, but this isn’t going to help find her. We need you to keep calm. Do you know where she could be?’

  He shook his head as his shoulders drooped along with his head. ‘No, I don’t. I’ve phoned my parents. I have no friends around here who know Charlie.’

  Morgan took his arm and walked him to the armchair furthest from Amanda. She pointed to it and he sank down onto it.

  ‘You didn’t pick her up yesterday. Did you talk to her at all?’

  ‘No, I didn’t. I told her’ – he pointed towards Amanda – ‘that I couldn’t have Charlie last night. We had a meal booked. I bloody knew I should have come and picked her up though, instead of leaving her here.’

  He was blinking back tears and suddenly was a shadow of the angry man who had rushed inside calling the shots.

  ‘Where is she? Someone must have taken her.’

  ‘We don’t know yet, but we have everyone out looking for her, and the dog hasn’t picked up on her scent leaving the street.’

  ‘Well then she must be here still, in someone’s house. Have you looked inside them all?’ He jumped up again. Morgan could see he’d decided upon a course of action and was going to start demanding to search inside houses.

  ‘We have officers door knocking as we speak,’ said Ben.

  ‘Oh, that’s okay then. We won’t bother going inside and actually looking then. What good is door knocking when someone might have Charlie?’

  ‘I understand how worried and frustrated you must be, Brett, but we can’t demand to go inside everyone’s homes.’

  ‘Why not? Don’t tell me you wouldn’t be going inside if it was your kid.’ He turned to Morgan. ‘I bet you haven’t even got kids, you wouldn’t know.’

  She bit her tongue, telling herself he had a right to be this angry and upset. ‘I don’t have children and if I did then I probably would feel the same as you, Brett; however, we have to do things by the book. We have no power of entry unless we have evidence to suggest it’s to save life and limb, to make an arrest or to prevent a breach of the peace. We don’t know for sure at this stage that someone hasn’t taken her away in a vehicle. We can’t rule that out; it could be the reason the dog hasn’t picked her scent up out of this street.’

  Ben nodded at Morgan, and they both watched Brett’s reaction as he changed from one of obtuse to deflated once more. He turned to stare at Mandy. Lifting his finger, he pointed at her.

  ‘Our daughter, the one decent thing that we ever did when we were together, is missing, Mandy, and it’s all your fault. If some weirdo has taken her away in a car then God knows what they’ve done to her.’

&nbs
p; He turned and walked back out into the front garden strewn with a few broken toys. Morgan followed him outside, where he crouched down and picked up a doll missing an arm and wearing only a pair of socks. He pulled it to his chest and let out a cry which was half scream and half wail. She had never heard anything like it and hoped to God she’d never hear anything like it again. She did the only thing she could think of and bent down. Taking hold of his arm she helped him to his feet.

  ‘I promise you, Brett, we won’t stop looking for her, we’ll find her.’ She didn’t add that she couldn’t promise she would be the same little girl when they found her or even if she would be alive, but she knew that she wouldn’t stop until she was back where she belonged.

  A family liaison officer arrived at the front gate, and Morgan breathed a sigh of relief. She wanted to be out looking for Charlie not consoling her frantic, warring parents. The thought of a little girl being out there alone, scared and possibly hurt was a heavy weight inside her chest and she would do everything to bring her home.

  Six

  Two hours later every door had been knocked on and most of the residents had been spoken to, except a few who weren’t in and they were to be revisited later. Ben and Amy had returned to the station. A helicopter from the national police air service based in Lancashire had been scrambled and was currently circling the area with thermal imaging equipment to see if there was any trace of Charlie; the nearest expanse of open fields was a ten-minute walk away, but the River Rothay was only a couple of streets away, and across from the river was the Covel Woods. Morgan hoped Charlie hadn’t wandered down to the river and fallen in. She could have been swept away downstream in the blink of an eye in the fast-moving current. CCTV enquiries at shops and houses along the most likely route she would have taken had she wandered out of the street had been conducted, all with negative results.

  Morgan drove around to the school Charlie attended. She parked on the narrow side street where the main entrance was, careful not to block the garages of the funeral parlour that backed onto it. What a combination, a primary school and a funeral parlour in such close proximity. She supposed the kids must be used to seeing hearses coming and going but she shuddered at the thought of it. She hated funerals, hated death and the thought of dying, and wondered if this was because she’d had so many close calls with it and lost both of her parents. As she pressed her finger on the buzzer at the entrance to the school, Morgan fished her lanyard out of her coat and held it up in case there was a camera.

  ‘Yes, can I help you?’

  ‘Police, I’m here to speak about Charlie Standish.’

  ‘Just a moment, come on in.’

  The door clicked and she pushed it open. The secretary was sitting in a small, square glass office, which was kind of like a greenhouse. Morgan thought it must be hell in the warm weather. Was this to protect her from the kids or angry parents? It looked like something the Pope would take confession in. The secretary, an older woman with a shock of white curls, leant across the desk and slid one of the windows open. Morgan passed her badge to her. She took and inspected it then handed it back smiling.

  ‘Have you found her?’

  ‘No, I’m afraid we haven’t.’

  ‘Oh, the poor wee thing. Where can she be?’

  Morgan smiled and thought isn’t that the million-dollar question?

  ‘We have search teams, a helicopter and trained sniffer dogs out looking; I’m sure we will find her soon.’ She glanced down and realised that she’d crossed two of her fingers on her right hand.

  ‘Do you see a lot of Charlie? Do you know her well?’

  The secretary nodded and pointed to an old church pew with yellow and blue cushions, to match the school colours, outside a door a little further down the corridor.

  ‘I call that Charlie’s hot seat.’

  ‘Sorry?’

  ‘It’s what the kids refer to as the naughty step. It’s outside Mrs Hart’s office. We have a few regulars who spend a bit of time on there, but Charlie is the main offender.’

  Footsteps along the corridor behind her made her turn to face a woman who must have been almost six foot tall. She was wearing a lilac-coloured trouser suit and smelt of lavender. She held out her hand, and Morgan took it.

  ‘Mrs Hart, head teacher and tamer of wild animals.’

  Morgan smiled, and the woman, who had a long, thin face, smiled back with a grin so wide Morgan knew straight away that she liked this woman.

  ‘Should we go into my office? Sandra, I’d die for a coffee. Would you like one?’

  ‘Yes, please I’d love one – milk, no sugar.’

  Sandra nodded and slammed the glass door shut with a little more force than was necessary. Mrs Hart led Morgan through the double doors to the office with a big smiley face on them and the words what have you done today to make you smile? underneath it in large, yellow letters. Once they were inside Mrs Hart pointed to a chair, and Morgan sat down.

  ‘Mrs Hart—’

  She held up her hand. ‘Please, call me Andrea unless you’re here to tell me something terrible.’

  ‘Andrea, no it’s bad but not terrible. We can’t find Charlie, or at least we haven’t found her yet, but I’m confident that we will.’

  Andrea sat down in the black leather office chair behind her desk and sighed.

  ‘That poor girl, she must be so scared, but I don’t understand it. I mean how did her mother not realise she wasn’t in her bed? Where did she think she was? Although it doesn’t surprise me, which I find more upsetting.’

  ‘Amanda had a falling out with Brett. I take it you know both of Charlie’s parents?’

  ‘Very well, although Dad isn’t on the scene so much at the moment and Mum is a bit reluctant to engage with us, despite our best attempts.’

  ‘Tell me about Charlie.’ Morgan took out her notebook and pen.

  ‘She’s a clever girl, but for someone so young she also has very set ways to do things. She won’t deviate from what she thinks is the right way to do something, which causes lots of clashes with her peers and teachers. I’m trying to get her assessed. I think she’s on the spectrum, but her mother doesn’t agree.’

  ‘Why doesn’t she agree?’

  ‘She doesn’t want Charlie to be given a label, in case she gets bullied. What Amanda doesn’t realise, though, is that Charlie’s behaviour already causes quite some concern amongst her peers, and I’m afraid that she tends to get left out at playtime because of it. She’s very quiet and doesn’t mix well with the rest of the class, so they tend to ignore her. Not that they’re mean to her, because if there is one thing I do my best to stamp down on it’s bullying. In fact, it can sometimes be the opposite: Charlie is the one to upset the others, which is why she gets sent to my office a lot. I asked Mum and Dad to come in for a meeting, to see if we can get Charlie the help she needs. It’s scheduled for tomorrow actually. I’d better ask Sandra to cancel until Charlie is home safely.’

  ‘Did Charlie know about the meeting? Do you think she could have been scared and run away?’

  They hadn’t fully considered this angle: that she might have tried to leave of her own accord and not been snatched at all.

  ‘I’m not sure. I phoned and left messages for both parents. I don’t know whether they would have discussed it with her. I don’t want to sound heartless, but I don’t think she will be bothered about it even if they told her. She’s just not the worrying type, which I suppose is a godsend for her.’

  ‘Would she speak to strangers, go off with someone she didn’t know?’

  ‘I’d have to say it’s unlikely, but she’s a nine-year-old child, and no matter how much we think we know someone they can do the complete opposite of what we expect. That’s kids in general, though, not just Charlie.’

  Morgan smiled. A knock sounded on the door and a red-faced Sandra stood there looking sheepish.

  ‘The milk hasn’t arrived yet, and I’ve just sniffed the one in the staffroom fridge – it’s go
ne sour.’

  Andrea closed her eyes, then opened them. Pulling out the top drawer of her desk, she took out a box of lemon and ginger tea bags, holding them out to Sandra.

  ‘Morgan, would you like a herbal tea?’

  ‘Oh, no thank you. I only drink them before bed.’

  Sandra took the box and left again. Morgan stood up, passing her a small business card.

  ‘Thank you, if you think of anything can you let me know? Anytime, you can leave a message.’

  ‘Yes, of course. I hope to God that you find her soon.’

  ‘Me too, Andrea. We’re doing our very best.’

  ‘I’m sure that you are, thank you, and please pass on my thanks to everyone involved. It can’t be an easy task.’

  Another tap sounded on the door, and Sandra walked in carrying a mug. She placed it on the desk and then followed Morgan out into the corridor, walking her to the entrance doors.

  ‘I do hope you find her. You know, it’s not the first time a girl has gone missing around here.’

  Morgan had pushed the green exit button on the wall to leave, but at this she stopped and turned to look at Sandra.

  ‘Excuse me, what do you mean?’

  Sandra looked a little too excited for Morgan’s liking. ‘It was a long time ago and she was a lot older than Charlie, but it’s a small town, people talk.’

  The tiny hairs on the back of Morgan’s neck were standing on end and she felt a chill wash over her body. ‘How long ago?’

  ‘Fifteen years or so; I can’t remember the exact date.’

  ‘Who was it? Did they find her?’

  ‘Eleanor Fleming, she was a nice girl. Came here then went to Alfred Barrow, in Kendal. She would have been around fourteen, fifteen when she disappeared.’

  ‘Where is she now?’

  ‘No one knows. The police never found her, and it almost killed her mother. The police thought that she’d run away, left to go somewhere a little more exciting. She was always talking about being an actress and said she would leave here as soon as she could.’