So, she didn’t mind being tasked by Dan this morning to investigate missing persons records. In fact, she thought the idea was rather good, and wished she’d come up with it earlier. Dan gave the credit for it to Dr Lexi Green, though. The psychologist had suggested proactively looking through reports of missing children, especially those who had disappeared recently, and filtering them according to her victim profile.
When Lucy saw the numbers of children involved, and caught their photographs on the entries as she skimmed them, it broke her heart. But she had to keep as detached as possible here. Getting upset by it would only slow her down and blunt her observation. By the time she’d reduced the dataset down to boys and girls aged ten to fifteen, from south-west London boroughs, missing in the last three months, she still had 261 records.
261 people, a little voice reminded her.
Dan had asked her to identify any missing children who attended Richmond Park Academy. But quite a few of the mispers records didn’t mention school, so it would take a while to get through them all manually. Then she had an idea. If she accessed the Social Services portal on her computer, she could run a query on Richmond Park Academy and then compare the two lists to find the names that matched.
Before long, she had the output from the Social Services database. She moved her cursor over the icon to exit the portal, and hesitated. Here she was, inside the system that contained the data Marshall needed for his algorithm. Or, in plain speak, the information which could identify any possible link between three hundred-plus missing young people. Should she extract it now? Could she say that she was accessing it because of Op Paxford?
Lucy knew it would be breaking the rules to share it with him. But Alison Griffin wasn’t going to help her. And Lucy certainly wasn’t going to let those children go unaccounted for. Not when there was something she could do about it. She glanced at her Pip-and-Kate mug.
Took a deep breath.
And ran the query for the data Marshall needed.
The number of records was so large, it took a while for the search to complete. As it was running, her guilty conscience made her look around her in case, for the first time in her life, she was about to be busted doing something she shouldn’t be doing. But no one was watching. Half a minute passed. Then the results appeared on screen.
Before she could change her mind, she downloaded the output into a spreadsheet and emailed it to Marshall.
Lucy sat back, staring at the ‘Sent items’ folder of her email.
What had she done?
Her heart was pounding away beneath her cardigan, she felt hot, and her palms were clammy. But she had the clearest sense she’d had in a while that she’d done the right thing. And she’d face the consequences of that decision, whatever they were.
She called Marshall, but he didn’t pick up. So, she texted him a simple message to check his email and let her know the results as soon as he could.
After making herself a cup of tea with trembling hands, Lucy returned to her screens and the Social Services output for children who had attended Richmond Park Academy. Scrolling through to the final columns of data, she noticed that the creator of the record was one of the listed fields. She looked first at Donovan’s entry, then at Charley’s. They’d been created by the same person. Just a coincidence, surely?
She scrolled up and down the list and found a whole range of creators, presumably all staff at Social Services. Then she found Jordan’s record and checked its creator. As she saw the same name as that listed beside Donovan and Charley, her pulse went up a little bit higher. She blinked and stared at the name. Had she made a mistake? She double-checked. No, she was correct. It was the same name beside all three victims. And she recognised it because he was on their Op Paxford board.
Kieran Meade.
Seventy-Seven
Lockhart hadn’t called in advance of his visit to the office of Youth Rise Up. That meant his trip to Stockwell wasn’t guaranteed a result, but he believed it was worth the risk to keep surprise on his side. After Kieran Meade’s background in Social Services had been discovered by Smith, and Berry had linked him through their database to the three murder victims, Lockhart had re-evaluated what they knew about the young man. And he’d risen right to the top of their list.
An unannounced drop-in to Meade’s workplace in Stockwell, with a request for him to come for a voluntary interview on record, would be the quickest way to find out more. If he declined that offer, Lockhart planned to arrest him. But, even as he pushed open the door of Youth Rise Up, he could see that Meade wasn’t here.
‘Hello, Inspector.’ Susanna Chalmers ran a hand through her hair and sat up straight at her desk. She gave Lockhart a quizzical look, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. ‘What can we do for you?’
‘I’m looking for Mr Meade,’ he said, stepping in and shutting the door behind him. He could have sworn it was somehow colder inside this office than outside. ‘Where is he?’
‘Kieran didn’t come in today.’ Chalmers frowned. ‘Is something the matter?’
‘Is he working from home?’
‘No… I, have you heard anything from him, Maisy?’
Behind her desk across the room, the young woman with blue hair shook her head. ‘Nope, nothing. I thought he was out on a project or something.’
‘He hasn’t called in sick, then?’ asked Lockhart, his eyes sweeping over Meade’s empty desk.
‘Not yet.’
Lockhart checked his watch. ‘It’s two p.m.’
‘You’re right, he should’ve rung us by now.’ Chalmers clicked her mouse and peered at her computer screen. ‘His diary says he has appointments today. It’s possible he’s gone straight there. Let me just…’
She picked up her phone, tapped the screen a few times and held it to her ear. Lockhart waited. ‘Voicemail,’ she said, eventually.
‘Don’t leave a message,’ he instructed.
Chalmers rang off. ‘I’m sorry, Inspector. It’s remiss of us not to know where he is. Maisy, would you mind, please?’ She gestured to her ears and the younger woman put on a pair of headphones before continuing her work. Chalmers dropped her voice to a whisper and Lockhart got closer.
‘I’ve tended to give Kieran quite a lot of leeway,’ she said. ‘He’s, um, well, he’s had a number of mental health issues in the past, and so—’
‘What kind of issues?’
‘Depression, mainly. Substance misuse, a while back. He wouldn’t mind me telling you, he’s very open about that. But he got over it, and as far as I know he isn’t using again. He did disclose to me that at one time in his life, he was suicidal. I think it wasn’t long after he’d come out of care.’
‘He spent time in care?’
‘Most of his childhood, I think. Is that relevant?’
Lockhart didn’t reply. Green’s profile was front and centre in his mind. He was recalling her description of the likely perpetrator: raised in care, previous drug use, strong religious beliefs. Meade was ticking every box.
‘So, you know, if he’s late, or not always where he says he’s going to be,’ Chalmers continued, ‘I go easy on him. His ability to connect with the young people is second to none. I think his lived experience really enables him to relate to their struggles. He’s a tremendous asset to us.’
As she carried on talking about Meade’s reasons for joining her charity, Lockhart caught a few words – make a difference… frontline… hands-on – but his thoughts were already elsewhere, his mind racing. It seemed as though the pieces were starting to fall into place. And he was furious with himself for not seeing it earlier. They hadn’t done their homework properly. He’d failed to follow up on Meade’s vague alibis for the nights in question. They’d been too focused on Eric Cooper to see any real alternatives, apart perhaps from Lexi Green’s boyfriend, Tim McKay, that was…
‘But you’re interested in him, now – is it about the murder case?’ Chalmers’s voice cut through his racing thoughts.
‘I’m afraid I can’t discuss that, but we would like to speak to him urgently.’ Lockhart extracted his own phone. ‘Could you give me his number, please?’
She hesitated, glanced at the mobile on her desk.
‘I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t important,’ added Lockhart.
‘OK.’ Chalmers read out the number and Lockhart noted it in his phone.
‘Thanks. When was the last time you saw Mr Meade?’
‘Kieran was here yesterday,’ she replied. ‘He was out on some calls in the morning, but here in the office all afternoon until four p.m., then he went off.’
‘How was he travelling?’
‘What do you mean?’
Lockhart had recalled the early lead from an eyewitness near the church where Donovan’s body had been placed. ‘Your charity is the registered keeper of a black van, right?’
‘Yes… does that have anything to do with this?’
‘Where’s the van?’
‘Er, we usually park it round the corner.’
‘I’d like to see it.’
‘OK, yes, fine.’ Chalmers looked somewhat bemused, but she opened a desk drawer and began rummaging inside.
Lockhart took out his phone. He needed to call Smith and get her over to Meade’s home address, then think of any other locations where he could be. Perhaps Chalmers could help with that. And he’d need Berry to check the Social Services data to extract all the records he’d created, in case they represented his potential targets. Then there was—
‘They’re not here.’ Chalmers flapped her arms. ‘The keys. They should be here, but they’re not in any of these drawers…’
‘Who was the last person to use the van?’ demanded Lockhart.
‘Kieran drove it yesterday.’ Maisy had taken off her headphones and spun her chair to face them. ‘And neither of us has used it since.’
Suddenly, it came to Lockhart. A realisation about the crime scene, one of the things he’d been missing.
He was back out of the door immediately and dialling Smith’s number.
But part of him wondered if they were already too late.
Seventy-Eight
An evening with Tim had been exactly what Lexi needed to take her mind off everything else. Pretty much as soon as she’d got into his flat, they’d taken off their clothes and got into bed together. Their lovemaking had been passionate and energetic and incredible. Afterwards, they had lain entwined, talking and holding one another, until their hunger had got the better of them.
Without getting up, Tim had grabbed his phone and ordered a takeaway from an awesome Bangladeshi restaurant nearby. Thirty minutes later, it had arrived. Ravenous, they’d started opening it before the bag had even touched the living room table. Now they were on to a second round of lamb biryani, and had finished a beer each already.
‘Do you want another?’ Tim held up his empty bottle and smothered a belch.
Lexi cocked her head. ‘Sure. Why not?’
Tim scraped his chair back.
‘It’s OK,’ said Lexi. She was closer to the fridge. ‘I got it.’
She took a couple more bottles of IPA from inside and began searching for the bottle opener. She slid open a drawer but couldn’t see it. She bent down to reach for another drawer.
‘Hold on, Lexi, if you want—’
‘I swear you put it back in here.’ She rummaged inside, lifting kitchen implements and random stuff.
‘It’s not in there…’ Tim said firmly.
Still searching, Lexi heard him stand and move towards her. Then she saw it.
‘What’s this?’
Tim didn’t respond.
‘What the fuck is this?’
‘Nothing.’ He reached around her to shut the drawer, but she resisted, held it open. She shot him a glance of disgust before her eyes dropped once more to the small, clear plastic bag. It contained a dozen or more brightly coloured, rough-textured pills with different motifs stamped on them. Lexi had never taken ecstasy, but she knew what it looked like.
‘Don’t bullshit me. You have a bag of MDMA stashed in your kitchen.’
Tim stopped trying to push the drawer back and stood up straight.
‘So what?’ He shrugged. ‘It’s just a bit of E.’
‘So what?’ Lexi was getting mad. ‘I’ll tell you so what. You have a responsibility working with children. You could lose your job over that, maybe even go to jail.’
‘Yeah, but no one’s going to find out, are they?’ He gave her a conspiratorial smile.
‘Goddammit, Tim. How could you be such a dumbass?’
‘What? It’s just for the occasional night out, festivals or whatever. It’s not even as if I can really take them at the moment with everything going on.’
‘Oh, well that’s something, then.’ Lexi folded her arms.
‘Why are you making such a big deal out of this?’
She felt her face tighten into a scowl. ‘Do you even know how my brother died?’
Tim opened his mouth, but no sound came out.
‘He OD’d, OK?’ She held up a hand. ‘And before you say it, I have told you that.’
‘I didn’t… I mean, it wasn’t E, was it?’
‘Jeez! It doesn’t matter what it was.’ She jabbed a finger towards the drawer. ‘They’re all the same, shitty street drugs with God-knows-what in them, screwing up people’s bodies and lives. They killed my brother. I’ve seen enough patients in my clinic hooked on them. And now you.’
‘I’m not hooked—’
‘No? Go flush them, then. Right now.’
Tim went silent. They stared at one another.
Then Lexi’s phone rang.
They both turned to look at her handset on the table. The screen said: Dan.
Lexi took a breath, then moved towards the table.
‘You’re not actually going to answer that, are you?’ said Tim.
‘Screw you.’ Lexi hit the red cross to reject the call, then picked up her phone and pocketed it. ‘I can’t be in this house right now, not with that shit in there.’
‘Lexi, come on…’
She collected her bag and coat, slipped her ankle boots back on. She paused in the hallway, looked back at him. ‘I can’t believe you hid this from me,’ she said. ‘If we can’t trust each other…’
Lexi didn’t finish the sentence. Instead, she opened the door and went out into the night.
Walking quickly through the freezing streets towards the bus stop, Lexi tried to calm herself down. How could Tim be such a loser, and – on top of that – so insensitive when he knew what’d happened to Shep? She didn’t need this extra stress right now. She took some deep breaths. When she felt a little more in control, she returned Dan’s call.
‘All right, Lexi?’ His voice was low. ‘Cheers for ringing me back.’
‘Hey, Dan. Can you talk? What’re you doing?’
‘I’m watching someone,’ he replied. ‘Eric Cooper.’
‘Is he still your main suspect?’
‘No. I’ll explain that in a minute. I wanted to call you about the crime scene, actually.’
‘Sure. But first, there’s something I’ve gotta tell you.’
‘Oh yeah?’
‘Yeah.’ Lexi swallowed. She knew she was crossing a line, but she was still mad as hell and no longer felt as though she owed Tim any special loyalty. ‘There’s something I haven’t mentioned.’
‘What?’
‘Earlier in the case, when you were looking at Tim.’
‘It was just that we couldn’t—’
‘Shut up a second and listen.’
‘OK.’
‘You interviewed Tim because of his relationship with the first two victims. I don’t know about after that. But all I know is, I wasn’t completely honest with you.’
‘What do you mean?’ asked Dan.
‘In my profile, I said stuff about the killer potentially having used drugs, growing up in care, having strong religious beliefs…�
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‘Yeah?’
‘Well, Tim has, or had, all of those things in his life at some point. And I didn’t tell you.’
Dan was quiet on the other end.
‘I’m sorry,’ she added.
‘You’re saying that your own boyfriend fitted your profile of the killer?’
‘Uh, yeah. It’s sounds crazy, I know, but then I thought you guys weren’t looking at him – that’s what you said, right? – and so, I figured that if he wasn’t a person of interest, it didn’t really matter. But now, the situation’s a little different, and-and I just wanna help. I know it’s, like, almost impossible that he’d have anything to do with this. But if something happened that involved him and I hadn’t told you this stuff, then, I don’t know what I’d do…’ The words seemed to tumble out as fast as they came into her head.
‘Slow down, Lexi,’ Dan said calmly. ‘Take your time.’
She breathed. ‘That’s pretty much it. So, now you know.’
‘I appreciate you telling me,’ he said. ‘Would’ve been useful to know earlier, though.’
‘I guess. But you said you weren’t looking at him.’
Dan didn’t reply.
‘Wait a second. You were looking at him?’
‘It was a routine thing.’
‘Dan! What the hell?’
‘Sorry, Lexi. But it’s not about you. It would’ve been the same if anyone in our team had a connection to a person of interest.’
‘So, you lied to me? When you said he wasn’t a person of interest.’
‘What was I supposed to say?’
‘You trust me, don’t you?’ she replied.
‘Of course I do.’ He paused a second. ‘More than almost anyone.’
‘Really?’
‘Yeah. Burrows wanted you off Paxford completely, remember? But I knew that we needed you.’ He seemed to hesitate before adding: ‘And I need you now.’
Lost Souls Page 27
