Broken Angel

by Diane M Dickson

  “No, as I say she just walked away with him, over towards the parking by the hotel. He carried her shopping and they were talking as they went.”

  Charlie leaned forward, “Can you tell us anything at all about him? What he was wearing perhaps?”

  “Oh, you know, just the usual stuff: dark trousers, I think, a dark jacket. He didn’t have a hat because I remember I saw him wipe his hand through his hair, that’s how I know he wasn’t coloured.” She stopped and closed her eyes, “Yes, that was it. A bit heavier than you, not fat, just, you know… bulkier and I’m sorry but that’s all I can remember.”

  “You’ve been a great help, Mrs Brett,” Kate said.

  “Well, I hope you find her.”

  “Thank you. Now, are you alright for getting home?”

  “Oh yes, I came here in my car, followed the police one.”

  Charlie smiled at her, “If you can spare the time we’d like you to give us a written statement, just so we have a proper record for the files. We can come to your home to do it later, if that’s more convenient.”

  “No, it’s fine I can do it now.”

  They left her in the lounge. Another cup of tea and a couple of biscuits seemed like a small reward, but it was all they had to offer and in truth, they knew that recounting this to her local book club, the WI, or whatever, more than made up for the poor refreshments on offer.

  * * *

  “Noticed the handbag, noticed the hair, but hardly anything about the bloke. Isn’t that a bit odd?” Charlie glanced down at Kate as he spoke.

  “No, not really, it’s a girl thing. You wouldn’t understand. But look at what she did give us: shorter than you, Charlie, white, a bit chunkier. Are you thinking the same as me?”

  “Well, it does describe Steven Blakely pretty well doesn’t it?”

  “Let’s go and see him again. See what he was wearing on Thursday.”

  Chapter 9

  They were prepared for his reaction when they asked him about his movements; the knack was deciding how genuine it was. When they questioned him again about just what he had done in the minutes before Sarah had been seen talking to someone near the car, they had expected him to be defensive.

  Charlie tried to calm him, “We need to form the clearest idea of what happened. Someone saw a woman, they think might have been your partner, talking to a man who could fit your description. All we’re trying to do is make sure that we have the series of events clear and concise.” They watched his face. Something made Steve’s eyes narrow, his skin flush. Was it anger, fear, maybe even guilt? It was hard to decide.

  He had a dark jacket, who didn’t – he’d shrugged his shoulders as he made the comment, no it wasn’t black it was dark brown. In his mind Charlie imagined a brown jacket, rain spotted and darkened, seen through a misted windscreen. He had to tread carefully, if they wanted to take his clothes away, look for mud splatters, evidence of walking in woodland, then they needed more than this.

  He had brought Kate with him, she had been in on the interview after all. She leaned forward, spoke quietly, “The woman we brought in said that she had particularly noticed a handbag. It was this apparently that had caught her attention.” Steven Blakely didn’t speak, Kate continued, “Does Sarah have a big bag, something a bit special, maybe that another woman would notice?”

  When he nodded, Charlie asked the next, obvious question, “Did she have it with her at the services?”

  “Yeah. She was thrilled with it. I told her it was totally impractical for the Lakes, you need something like a backpack, something that can put up with the weather, but she insisted. She said that at least she could use it for going there and back.” He bent his head, covered his eyes with his hands. “She was so bloody chuffed with it. All I did was sulk, because she’d spent a lot of money. God, what a jerk.”

  There was nothing they could say. Charlie caught Kate’s attention, nodded his head towards the door. She began to gather her things.

  Back in the car Charlie spoke quietly. “I don’t see it, do you? I just can’t see him doing anything to her. He’s in bits.” He thought for a moment. “I know, it could be a good act, it could be remorse, but…”

  “So, we’re not taking him in for questioning? Not looking at his clothes?”

  “Not unless you really feel strongly about it, Kate, or saw something that I didn’t – not for the moment.” She shook her head. “I suppose we know where he is, the FLO has her eye on him. Tell you what though, he was right about one thing.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Well, there he was giving her grief about spending on the bag, and now look. See, that’s what I keep telling my girls. You have to remember that none of us know how long we’ve got.”

  “Yes, I think I’m much more aware of that since our baby was born, I want to be there for him, it adds another level of worry somehow.”

  He had spoken the truth but also knew that you couldn’t let it get to you, you couldn’t do the job if you let the darkness take over but, through the joking, the banter, they both knew that the longer they went with no real luck, no more hints at what might have happened, the deeper the darkness became.

  * * *

  The team were in the office when they arrived, no news, nothing to help. There was an air of dullness. Since the excitement of the witness, nothing else was happening. They knew that Sarah had walked away with someone, it was valuable information but that was it. A woman was missing, they had a broken phone, a possible sighting. When you got right down to it that wasn’t a lot.

  Maybe after the appeal on the television something would break. Charlie gave them the option of staying to help man the phones, along with the CIOs or going home. They all opted to stay. It pleased him, but they would be busy the next day interviewing anyone who genuinely seemed to have information. They needed to be rested, needed to get away and think about something else. “Okay but don’t stay too long.” They knew, and he knew that they knew, he would be there for as long as he could still function. He spent the time until the broadcast looking at the picture of the blond, pretty young woman with laughter in her eyes, going over and over the little that they had and beginning to acknowledge deep down that this probably wasn’t going to end well.

  The first bulletin went out at eight, Steven Blakely hollow-eyed, his voice breaking on the plea to just not hurt her, just let her come home, he needed her. He shocked them all when, towards the end he asked her to marry him. It was heart-breaking.

  At ten, Charlie went home, dissatisfied, worried and frustrated. Carol was already in bed so he spent another hour staring at the service area on Google earth, memorising every detail although he knew that it wasn’t getting him anywhere. He really should get some sleep before the baby had them up again. He was exhausted.

  * * *

  By the time Charlie arrived next morning, the office was buzzing. The phones were alive, the team engaged, typing, talking. It was a better atmosphere than the day before, they had something to do and it had lifted them.

  Reports were on his desk, he shuffled them as he gulped down the strong, black coffee, and rubbed at his eyes.

  “Bad night?” Sue stood in the doorway smiling sympathetically. “We’ve had a decent response, Steve was very compelling.”

  “Fingers crossed, eh. I really need something to take to the Chief Inspector. I don’t want him taking this away and you know, more than that – to be honest…” he paused, didn’t want to look weak but then continued, his voice subdued, “I really would like to find her. I know that the longer she’s missing the less chance there is of solving this, but I really would like to know she’s safe.”

  She smiled and nodded her head, he was lovely, wasn’t he?

  Chapter 10

  The services at Warwick were manic. Apart from the homegoing weekenders, the usual gangs of bikers, ramblers, caravanners and the rest of it, there were the end of week tour groups. Millie and Sonia hefted their suitcases into the café. They flopped into
the white plastic chairs beside the window. They were tired, grubby and miserable.

  The holiday had been great, the food in France, the wine, the weather brilliant. The journey back, not so much.

  “Next time we’re gonna fly, Millie.” Sonia Tranter held up a hand, “Look, I know you say you don’t like it, but come on, you can’t like this. If we’d flown we’d have been home by now, your brother would have had a quick trip to the airport to pick us up, job done. Now we have to wait for him to drive down, come across from the other side and then all the way back again. I feel filthy, my feet are swollen from sitting on that bloody coach and I’m still queasy from the ferry. You can get some help, you know, get hypnotised or something. Really, next time, we’re flying.”

  Her friend glared at her, “Yeah – okay. I know, I feel just as grungy, but I hate flying. You’ve been whinging for the last two hours. Give it a rest, will you? Carl’s on his way though. Should be about an hour, we’ll be able to see him from here. He’ll text when he’s a few minutes away and then we’ll keep an eye out. Let’s get a cup of coffee and chill for a bit. Chill!”

  “Right, I’m going to the toilet. I’ll pick up some coffee on the way back.”

  Millie didn’t answer, she made a show of gathering the luggage nearer, scraped her chair close to the table and threw herself onto the hard-plastic seat. “Yeah. I’ll stay here with the bags.”

  She stared out of the window, her friend was probably right, it was silly. But she hated flying. It wasn’t really that she thought they would crash, though that was always a little niggle in the back of her mind. It was the stale air, the closeness of other people, skimpy seats. Maybe one day, when she had the money and could go first class she’d give it a go, but no – Sonia could moan all she wanted, she wasn’t flying on a cheap airline. She glared around the restaurant, she was tired and grumpy and wondered if it had been worth the bother of going away at all. She pulled her hair away from her face, twined it around her hand and stuck it up in a messy bun.

  She was aware of the person beside the table before he spoke. She turned, looked up.

  She glanced around for Sonia, but there was no sign of her mate. “Yes, can I help you?”

  In response he smiled down at her, held out his wallet. It was a black folder, on one side was his picture, she glanced up, yes that was him. On the other side was a badge of some sort.

  She shrugged, waited for him to speak.

  “I’m sorry to bother you.” She raised her eyebrows. “I noticed you sitting here. Have you seen the posters?” As he spoke he indicated the pictures on a couple of the pillars. She hadn’t noticed them particularly but wasn’t about to say so. She didn’t speak, left it to him. She just wanted him to go away, she wasn’t going to buy anything. She was aware that she was glaring, she didn’t care.

  “We’re looking for a young woman. She disappeared from one of the service areas a few days ago.” He showed her one of the posters, she glanced at it quickly, took in the basic facts.

  She really couldn’t be bothered with this, “I’ve just come back from France. Can’t help you, sorry.”

  He leaned a little closer, “It’s just that she looked very like you.”

  “Oh well, as I say I’ve just come back from France, so it’s not me.”

  “Thing is, we are looking for someone to do a reconstruction. Try to jog people’s memories, that sort of thing. We would film it for the television. It would only take a bit of time, an hour maybe. Do you think you could help us out?”

  “Don’t you use actresses for that stuff?”

  He shook his head, “No, not really. Sometimes we use our own people, but quite often it’s a friend, a relative or just someone who looks really like the subject. You’re the right height and build, your hair’s right.” He reached a hand forward, pointed at her head. “I noticed it just before you tied it up. We’d give you the clothes, to make you look like her. Not her clothes obviously, similar to what she was wearing. It really would be a huge help.”

  Where the hell was Sonia? She glanced around again, there was still no sign. “I have to watch the bags till my mate comes back. I was going to have a cup of coffee.”

  “Oh, that’s not a problem. I can have someone come in, sit with the luggage, explain to your friend. He waved a hand in the direction of a couple of policemen in uniform. “We’ve got coffee in the van.”

  What should she do? If one of her friends was missing she’d want to help. This was someone’s daughter, maybe even someone’s wife. “Oh, okay then. What do you want me to do?”

  “I’ll get someone to come and take care of the bags.” He turned away, murmured into his phone. “Right, that’s sorted. We really do appreciate this. If you’d just come with me. The van’s outside.”

  “Oh, no hang on. I’m not going off somewhere.”

  “It’s just the van, the one we’re using as a base you know. It’s only over there.” He waved a hand in the direction of the motel.

  “Okay then. But, if she went missing from Cherwell Valley, why are you doing it here?”

  “Just in case someone stopped there on Friday but is here today, people don’t always use the same services. You’ll just need to walk around while we make an announcement. You look so much like her. It really might be a breakthrough for us if someone remembers seeing her. Someone else is doing it at the other services. We haven’t been able to find anyone here that looks as much like her as you do.”

  She slid out from behind the table and, still unsure, still puzzled, still looking around for Sonia, she followed him out to the car park.

  Chapter 11

  Sometimes you just know.

  When the phone vibrated, and it was still dark outside, the gap around the windows not yet lined with a bit of brightness, the blackbird yet to start his early morning warbling, Charlie groaned. He didn’t look at the clock. It didn’t matter what time it was, the main thing was not disturbing the baby.

  It was the control room. “Sorry Charlie. We thought you’d want to know. There’s another woman missing.”

  “Bugger. What do we know?” He was awake now, wide awake, already kicking the duvet away, already juggling with the phone and the T-shirt, moving quickly and quietly towards the door.

  “M40. Woman went to the toilets, left her friend looking after their bags, waiting for a lift. When she came back there was a uniform with the bags, just about to start an unaccompanied bags incident, no sign of her mate. No answer on her phone, no reason for her to have gone anywhere.”

  “Thanks. I’ll get down there. Look, could you get in touch with Sue Bakshi, tell her I’ll pick her up at the station in about…” He glanced at his watch. “Twenty minutes?”

  He splashed cold water on his face, crept back into the bedroom to grab his clothes. He peeped into the crib, Joshua was fast asleep. “I’ve got to go out love,” Carol opened her eyes and frowned at him. “I’ll ring you later. Go back to sleep. Baby’s fine.”

  He slid on his shoes and then remembered the last place where the phone had been found: dog muck, mud. He pulled a pair of old wellies from the shelf in the utility room, stowed them in the car boot, threw on a gilet. There was the blackbird, oh well, not quite the middle of the night then.

  * * *

  Although they never completely closed, the services were almost empty, the outlets were locked and dark, it felt cold. In the corner of the quiet cafeteria a small group huddled round a table littered with disposable cups and tissues. There were a couple of uniformed officers sitting beside a young woman who was huddled under a coat which was obviously too big for her. Beside her a young man in T-shirt and jeans was wringing his hands together, occasionally lifting his mobile phone from the table, clicking buttons, tossing it back among the detritus.

  Charlie joined them, introduced himself and Sue.

  The man looked up, glanced at them, “What are you here for then? What’s happening? My sister’s missing and it seems to me that nobody’s doing anything. W
e’ve told these people everything we know. We’ve hung around and hung around, first the manager of this place, then their security, now you. When is somebody actually going to do something?” He pointed a finger in the direction of a young man in a crumpled looking suit, his phone clutched in his hand like a shield, hair dishevelled and greasy. “He said we should just go home. Just go home when we’ve no idea where Millie is. Bloody idiot.”

  Charlie held up a hand, nodded to the manager who managed a tight smile. He was out of his depth and confused.

  One of the uniformed constables spoke quietly, calmly. “This is Carl Roberts. His sister was here with Sonia. They were just coming back from a holiday in France. Left by the coach at just after eight this evening. While Sonia here was in the toilets, her friend, Carl’s sister, Millie – Millicent – was looking after the bags. When Sonia came back, Millie was gone. No response to her phone since then and no reason that she should have left.”

  “Thanks.” Charlie had known all of this from the phone conversation he’d had with the dispatcher on the way to pick up Sue, but understood the other officer was simply trying to reassure the relatives and the friend that they had it all noted, they were in control, they had been listened to.

  * * *

  It was emotional, they tried to keep the situation calm but it was obvious this time that there was something wrong. “Have we looked at the CCTV yet?” he addressed the officer who had just spoken, the older of the two, the one who had taken charge until now.

  “They’ve taken the recordings away, I think we’ve got something. I don’t know how much use it will be, but you never know.”

  “Great.” Charlie leaned across the table, “Mr Roberts. We are going to do all we can to find your sister. It might well turn out to be nothing to worry about. Maybe she met a friend, something like that. Usually there’s a simple explanation.” They didn’t believe him, it was obvious, and he didn’t believe himself. Not for a minute. “I will get someone to go home with you now. What about you, Sonia, have you someone waiting for you?”