by Vicky Jones
“Not really looked,” Amanda said in a quiet voice. She put the half eaten slice on the open lid of the box and sighed. “Sorry, mate. Not had much of an appetite these last few days.”
“That’s OK, it’s to be expected.”
“I think the police are much better placed to deal with it than Instagram, don’t you? It’s a space for weirdos and trolls. You should read some of the messages I get. Don’t need that on top of everything else.” She picked the slice back up, picked off a piece of pepperoni and nibbled at it.
“I’ve been out today putting more posters up around town. Someone must know something,” Poppy said.
Amanda gave a wry smile. “Did your moody old boss not mind you using company time and resources doing that? I don’t want you getting into trouble on my account.”
“No, not at all. She’s alright, you know. She’s just a bit antsy about the library maybe closing. It’s so crap. It’s the only job I’ve ever loved doing.” Poppy’s eyes dimmed, then lit up. “Who knows, if I manage to drum up enough support to keep it open they might even promote me. Assistant manager has a good ring to it, don’t you think?” Poppy looked over at Amanda whose eyes had glazed over. “Mand?”
“Hmm? Oh sorry, Pops. Yeah, hopefully. You deserve it. You’re amazing at making things happen.”
“I’ve started a Find Diana Walker page on Facebook. With your following, I’m sure we’ll get loads of shares.”
“You’re such a good friend, Pops. I’m lucky to have you.”
“I learned all my tricks from you, remember? Social media queen over there,” Poppy said. “I know you’d be doing the same if your head wasn’t all over the place.”
“You got that right. Mum went out, then never came back.” She wiped a tear. “How fucked up is that? Where is she, Poppy?”
Poppy shrugged. “Has Max been round to stay yet? I hate you being alone in this big house. Especially if your mum might have been abducted.”
Amanda leaned back into the couch cushions. “You know I don’t like guys staying over too soon. It’s only been six weeks since we got together. Anyway, he doesn’t like leaving that dog of his overnight, so it suits him too. Obsessed over that thing, he is. He did send those flowers over there though.” She nodded towards a huge bouquet on the solid oak sideboard.
“Maybe you could go see your therapist again? Talk all this through with him. It can’t be easy on your own. I mean, you’ve always got me, but maybe an expert to talk to would be good?”
“I’ve finished all my sessions now,” Amanda replied. She picked at the crust she’d left.
“Yeah, I know. But you said the other day you still felt you could go to him any time. Anyone would understand if you needed more sessions.”
“I don’t need to,” Amanda snapped.
They sat in silence for the next few minutes.
“Have you looked through your mum’s diary for any clues? Is it possible she could have just gone away for a bit? I know it’s your dad’s anniversary.”
“Mum wouldn’t do that. She wouldn’t just up and leave like that. Somebody has got her.” Amanda threw her crust into the box. “Someone has her, Poppy. I fucking know it.”
The house phone rang, making both Poppy and Amanda jump. Locking eyes for a second, they both had the same thought. Amanda rushed over to the phone.
“Hello? Mum?” Amanda asked.
“No, I’m sorry to disappoint you, Amanda. It’s Eddie…” There was a pause. “Uncle Eddie?”
“Uncle Eddie. Hi,” Amanda replied, looking over to Poppy and grimacing.
“Any news? I saw the press conference. I was a little surprised not to be asked to attend if I’m honest, but if it does the job then I’m happy.”
“Nothing yet. The police have nothing to go on. Pretty shit show really. It’s as if they don’t care. Think she’s run off or something,” Amanda replied, taking a seat at the dining table.
“Because of your dad’s anniversary?”
Amanda fell quiet for a moment. She raked a hand through her messy brown hair. “Maybe?”
“Well, look, this is my new number.” He read out the number while Amanda wrote it on a piece of stray paper from the piles on the table. “Let me know if you hear anything, OK?”
“OK.”
“Bye.”
Amanda put the phone down.
“That didn’t sound good?” Poppy said after Amanda had returned to the couch.
“I don’t really know him very well. I hardly hear from him. He was always jealous of Mum marrying into money. Especially after he went bankrupt. He was always on at my dad to lend him more money, then when Dad said no he lost his shit and we hardly saw him after that.”
“Jeez. Families, eh?” Poppy said, blowing out her cheeks.
Chapter 3
“So, Superintendent Hargreaves, do you have any new leads? It’s been over a week since Diana Walker’s strange disappearance. And do you think it relates to the other disappearances, as yet unexplained, in the area?” one white-haired reporter asked, holding his Dictaphone out. The group of reporters he had pushed to the front of were now standing at the bottom of the three grey flagstone steps outside Lizard Police Station. Hargreaves had finally come outside to meet them, after ten minutes of them impatiently waiting for her.
“Since I took this role last year, it is true, there have been a string of disappearances of local residents, now including that of Mrs. Walker…”
“Does this put pressure on you to resign from your post, Superintendent Hargreaves?” a different reporter interjected, and was then met with a look of disdain from Hargreaves.
“Quite the opposite actually. It’s made me more committed to my job, and this town, than ever. Unfortunately, we’re a small village network and have limited resources at our disposal, not to mention scarce evidence with which to mount an investigation. So, once again I would like to directly appeal to the people of this town to come forward if they have any information at all about any of these cases. The smallest piece of information could be crucial to us.”
“So you think they are all related then? These disappearances?” another, much younger, reporter asked, barely giving Hargreaves time to reply.
“I’m confident we will do everything in our power to find out what happened to all of these missing persons, including Diana Walker.”
“You didn’t answer my question, Superintendent Hargreaves. Superintendent Hargreaves?” the young reporter repeated, but Hargreaves was already ten feet away and striding up the police station steps, slamming the door behind her.
“Hargreaves looks double pissed off this morning,” Michelle said out of the corner of her mouth to the officer sat next to her, as Hargreaves walked past them both as they sat at their desks. Moments later Hargreaves’ office door slammed and through the window they saw her wrench the phone handset and punch in a number. “Reckon I should wait until later to ask her to sign my holiday form?” Michelle added.
“I’d say leave it about a month?” the officer replied.
Rachel climbed off her bike and slipped her chain around it and the black iron railing, snapping the padlock securely. Something on the wheel caught her eye. “Damn it,” she huffed, noticing a small piece of flint poking out the edge of her tread. Kicking the tyre, she grabbed her backpack and headed up the steps into the station.
“Morning, boss,” Michelle piped up from her temporary desk in Rachel’s office. “Oooh, you cycled to work this morning? So much more disciplined than me.”
Rachel didn’t respond, just dropped her bike helmet onto her desk with a thud next to her mug of fresh coffee. She took a thirsty slurp. “Thanks for this, Shell, much needed.”
“No problem. I bet Adam was well chuffed about Spurs winning? Although he needs to start supporting a local team too. It’s five years since you both moved here now. He needs to forget those posh London teams. All prima donnas. Has he been to a good old Cornish game yet?” Michelle grinned. “Get him down to K
ellaway Park this Saturday. A Helston Athletic game will really get his blood pumping.”
“What? Errm, no, I don’t think so. I’ll ask. Anyway, let’s make a start.” Rachel sat down and began rifling through the pages of neighbour interviews that had begun to mount up on her desk.
Michelle’s face melted into a grimace. “Oh, shit, here she comes,” she whispered over to Rachel.
Hargreaves loomed large over them both. “Rachel, got a minute? Now?”
Rachel followed Hargreaves into her office and closed the door. Hargreaves walked behind her desk and stared out of the window.
“We got anything new on the Walker case?” she said without turning.
“We’re following up leads at the moment. We’ve conducted a door-to-door. Nothing to go on there, just a normal woman who lived a normal life. Apart from being wealthy there was nothing that remarkable about her.”
“Nothing from the tip line?”
“No ma’am.”
“So, what you’re saying, DI Morrison, is that we have fuck all.” Hargreaves turned and stared at Rachel. She hung her broad hands on her wide hips and frowned. “Remind me as to what we’ve done so far? Maybe then we can see what we’ve missed.”
“Ma’am,” Rachel replied. “So, as you know, just over a week ago we discussed the three grades of missing persons: low risk, medium risk and high risk. When Diana Walker had initially been reported missing, uniformed officers had attended to complete the report. They had carried out all the usual checks, including a cursory search of the home address, just in case Mrs. Walker was ill, injured or hiding for some reason. They had spoken to her immediate family and friends, but there had been nothing to suggest that she was physically or mentally ill or in any potential danger. They had checked with local stations—in case she had been arrested—and with all the hospitals within a designated radius of the area. After I discussed the case with DI Bradshaw, it had been graded as low risk and nothing more had been done for a couple of days. When there was still no sign of Mrs. Walker, and with her daughter insisting it was completely out of character, DI Bradshaw raised the level to medium risk.”
“Yes, I remember. That’s when I asked you to start running a parallel investigation to the one being conducted by the Misper Unit, to see if there was any correlation between Mrs. Walker’s disappearance and the spate of others that seemed to have plagued the area lately.”
“Correct. I then instigated a number of enquiries. For starters, I instructed the DIU to carry out basic ‘proof of life’ checks. The DIU compiled a detailed research docket on Diana Walker, checking the various police databases to establish whether she had ever featured in a crime report, an intelligence report or on a Computer Aided Despatch message. A Criminal Records Office check was also conducted to see if she had ever been convicted or cautioned for a criminal offence; she hadn’t. I also had one of my DCs apply to Diana’s GP for her medical records in case there were any issues that the family were unaware of, such as she had a terminal illness and was feeling suicidal. Diana’s GP had been extremely cooperative, having heard about her disappearance and he had made her records readily available, not demanding the usual production order from court. I also instructed a phones trained DC from the robbery squad to contact the Force Telephone Investigation Bureau and submit subscriber checks for Diana’s call data and cell site. They had tried to ping the phone but it had been turned off. The call data hadn’t revealed anything out of the ordinary, so I sent officers to speak to the last people she had spoken to. Nothing useful had come out of this, as you know. So afterwards, I arranged for the registration of Diana’s car to be run through the automatic number plate recognition system but there had been no movement of her car since she had been reported missing. I instructed a DC who was a trained Financial Investigator to obtain a production order from a court and access her banking records. But as you know, this got us precisely nowhere. There hadn’t been any activity at all since her disappearance. I then seized Diana’s laptop and had it interrogated by cyber crime techs. The complete absence of activity on her phone, bank accounts and social media had deeply concerned me. That’s when I advised you to make this a high risk missing person inquiry, hence the TV and newspaper appeal, the door to door enquiries and the leaflet drop being carried out. Then there was the hours and hours of CCTV we had seized and were steadily working our way through. Not usually something I would do, but I did my share. Manpower is so depleted that it was never going to get done otherwise. My team won’t let up, though, until we find Mrs. Walker.”
“How’s that young PC I seconded over to you from Beat Crimes getting on?” Hargreaves asked.
“PC Barlow’s doing a great job on this one, ma’am. She’s excellent at seeking out the smallest of leads. She’s so diligent. We’ll get to the bottom of this, ma’am, I can assure you.”
“You’d better. I’m getting reports now that this latest disappearance is starting to affect tourism. People are reading the newspapers, Rachel. The holiday brochures saying ‘once you come here once, you’ll never want to go home’ are beginning to sound a little bit ironic now, don’t you agree? The papers are starting to link these missing persons. Some are even hinting we might have some kind of serial killer on our hands. We can’t have this kind of rubbish floating about. I am under pressure, which means that you are under pressure. I want this sorted. Quickly. Do I make myself abundantly clear?”
The cold, merciless stare that shot across to Rachel made Hargreaves’ question unmistakably rhetorical.
“Bloody hell, you’ve gone pale,” Michelle said as Rachel returned to her desk.
“Let’s sort through all the paperwork, from all the cases, and look over the investigation wall again. OK?” Rachel replied. “Hargreaves will give us longer on this if we can establish a link.”
“I really should leave John.” Michelle sighed as she pinned up the last of the collection of photographs. “He’s so fucking boring at the moment. All he wants to do when he comes home from work is eat dinner and sit and watch the footie in his pants with a beer. Eight years I’ve put up with it.”
“Then why do you? You’re not that bad looking,” Rachel replied with a grin.
“Cheers for that. But seriously, why do I stay?”
“He’s good at DIY, isn’t he? And that house will never get finished without him. At least he spends the weekend doing that. He might just be knackered after work.” Rachel’s grin was absent this time. She picked up the first pile of notes and began pinning them around the photos they related to.
Michelle gave her a long sideways look. “I guess.”
“Is she watching, by the way?” Rachel said, avoiding looking at Hargreaves’ office.
Glancing over, Michelle gave a slight nod. “The blinds are shut but I can just see a little gap. I reckon she’s got her beady eyes on us.”
“Well, let’s make this wall look as thorough as possible. We all need a result on this one,” Rachel said, pinning a map on the wall. “It seems that my hunch that these mispers are linked is getting us in hot water. I am starting to wish I’d just kept my mouth shut.”
“Yes, boss,” Michelle said straightening the notes and pictures. She pinned up a piece of red string between all the pieces of information that linked up, then stood back to admire her handiwork. “So, you think they could be related then? Walker’s not just gone away for a bit?” Michelle asked.
“It’s possible. But none of the mispers knew each other. They lived in the same town but all have no apparent links to each other. No one saw anything, no CCTV, nothing. It’s like they were abducted by aliens in the middle of the night and vaporised.” She looked at Michelle and remembered. “I know, I know. You said that the other day.”
“I was joking. You sounded serious just then. Either way, I don’t think Hargreaves will sign that one off, do you?” Michelle said, looking back over to the superintendent’s office.
Chapter 4
“Oh, hello. Is that Detective Inspe
ctor Morrison? It’s Amanda Walker. I’m sorry to keep calling, but I just wanted to ask how the investigation is going? It’s been over a week now. I’m sick with worry.”
“Hi, Miss Walker. We are pursuing a few lines of enquiries. Be assured we are doing everything we can to work out what’s happened to your mum.”
“My uncle, Eddie Green, has been in touch. Wanting to know how the investigation was going. I gave his name to PC Barlow the other day, and he mentioned he’d had a call from the police, but hasn’t heard anything back yet.” Amanda’s voice quivered but remained stoic.
“We’ve conducted some routine enquiries, yes. All immediate friends and family have been contacted for any information they can give,” Rachel replied.
“There’s somebody else I think you should speak to. A mechanic my mother went to just before she disappeared. Have you spoken to him yet?”
“A mechanic?”
“Yeah, I’m sure I mentioned it...or I think I did. My head is everywhere.”
Rachel creased her brow and looked over at Michelle, who flipped through all the pages of her notebook and shook her head. “Amanda, this mechanic you mentioned just now. Is there any particular reason you feel we should speak to him?” Rachel leaned forward at her desk and picked up her pen. She wrote down the details Amanda was giving her. “I see. And when did this argument happen? OK, well, I’ll send someone over to speak with him. Yes, thank you. Goodbye.”
“She never mentioned him when we spoke to her, ” Michelle said, leaning against her desk, her arms folded.
“Apparently Diana Walker had a bit of a row with the local mechanic over some damage to her car. When he didn’t admit liability, Diana took to Facebook and gave him a scathing review and demanded he get sacked for his attitude.”
Michelle’s right eyebrow raised. “You think there could be something in that?”
