Lost Souls

by Jenny O'Brien

  ‘No, m-m-ma’am,’ Jax said, his phone on the desk in front of him, his stutter more pronounced now that there was a stranger in the room. ‘The trail is cold apart from a sighting by a dog walker on the Great Orme earlier on this morning. As you’ll remember, we did think that the Orme was the most likely place for her to head and that’s why we got Dafydd Griffiths on to it straight away.’

  ‘And what has he come up with?’

  ‘Not a huge amount apart from his obvious suggestion about the old mining tunnels and caves.’

  ‘But they’re locked up, aren’t they?’

  ‘Yes, but as we’re all aware, people have ways and means of getting into places they’re not meant to.’

  ‘Back up a step, Jax, and tell me again about the sighting?’

  ‘There’s not a lot to say – only that the man thought he saw someone matching her description but she was in the company of another teenager. He assumed that they were siblings out for an early morning hike.’

  ‘Because they were wearing rucksacks no doubt. Presumably it also didn’t strike him as odd that it was early on a Monday morning and there wasn’t a parent in sight,’ she added almost to herself. ‘When will I stop being amazed at the stupidity of others? I want a police presence on the Orme until she’s found.’

  ‘Yes, ma’am.’

  ‘And how have you been getting on at the housing estate? What’s the word on the street about Ellie and her mother?’

  ‘Again there’s not a lot to say. I spent a few hours going from door to door. Most of the residents recognise them on s-s-sight but, apart from the odd hello, only a few knew them to speak to. As a family the Frys stuck to themselves. Outside of work, school and the daughter’s ballet lessons they were rarely seen and certainly never in the evenings. We know that money’s tight so they wouldn’t have had the disposable income to go out eating and the like.’

  ‘No skeletons then? Not even a miserly bone or two in the back of the wardrobe?’

  ‘Not a thing. They were liked well enough but that doesn’t help us.’

  ‘Oh, I wouldn’t say that. I much prefer that Ellie had a good home life than the alternative. It just makes our jobs ten times more difficult in trying to discover what’s going on.’

  Gaby stood from her perch and walked across to the window, staring at the deep blue sky over the rooftops with not a hint of a cloud to mar the cerulean backdrop. She knew that she’d been hoping for some kind of a reason to present itself for Ellie running away, some secret that only the most diligent of nosy neighbours could have spotted. But they weren’t going to be lucky. It was back to the drawing board.

  Instead of heading to the front of the room, she pulled out a chair and settled back, tapping the end of the marker pen between her teeth. ‘Remind me who was on CCTV duty?’

  ‘That would also be me, ma’am,’ Jax said, sending an anxious look in Bill’s direction. ‘B-b-but I didn’t think you’d mind if I got PC D-D-Diane Carbone on to it. You remember how helpful she was during the last case?’

  ‘Indeed. And has she found anything?’

  ‘Not yet but she’s far from f-f-finished.’

  ‘Well, tell her to shift herself from where she’s hiding. She needs to base herself here if she’s on the team. There’s a space free.’ She nodded her head at the spare desk next to Mal.

  ‘Y-y-yes, ma’am.’

  Gaby hid a frown at Jax’s worsening speech, well aware that the cause was the man sitting on her left, the snide expression stamped across his features destroying all the good work she’d achieved over recent months. With careful nurturing on her part, in addition to a romantic entanglement with a local nurse that was starting to look serious, Jax was a new man. His stutter was greatly improved and only showed itself when his stress levels peaked, like now. But Bill had never been one for the soft side of management. As a DS it had taken a strong boss like Rhys Walker to direct him. As a DI, with no one to moderate his behaviour, he’d be a complete disaster. So far, Gaby had been in two minds whether to apply for the job, her skewed work-life balance the biggest deterrent. Now she knew she didn’t have an alternative.

  Clamping down on the thought, she turned her head towards Marie. ‘What about you? Any joy?’

  ‘I don’t know whether you’ll think it’s good news or not that I haven’t really turned up anything that we can get our teeth into,’ she said, pushing her hair back from her face, the slight sheen on her forehead the only indication that she was suffering from the hot humidity as much as everyone else. Both Mal and Jax had discarded their ties and undone their top button while Owen appeared ready to drop on his feet. Gaby was avoiding mirrors – she didn’t need to be told she looked as limp as she felt.

  ‘So far there’s nothing in Ms Fry’s background to indicate that she’s anything other than a hard-working single mum,’ Marie continued, taking a swig from her water bottle. ‘I’ve also done checks on all the employees at the school but nothing strikes me as worrying. The same goes for the teacher of Ellie’s ballet class, which she takes three times a week at the centre in Eirias Park.’

  ‘What about Anita’s job then?’ Gaby said, her tone measured while she worked out what to do next. The problem was that police guidelines were only helpful up to a point. While criminal profilers led the way in identifying patterns and predicting how a criminal’s mind might work, none of it helped when a crime had yet to be committed. The yet was the thing that was worrying her the most.

  ‘There’s not a lot to go on. As we know, she’s a self-employed cleaner, working around Ellie’s school pick-ups mainly.’

  ‘We’ll need a list of her employers if only to cross them off our list.’

  ‘Yes, ma’am.’

  ‘We also need to send someone over to Rhyl to interview Ellie’s best friend as a matter of urgency.’ Gaby pulled her cuff back, hiding a grimace when she saw the time. She still had to speak to Bill and at least make a passing attempt at maintaining a professional front while she tried to shift all the elements of the case into some sort of a pattern. What she’d really like was five minutes to herself with a cold drink and a blank sheet of paper to make sure she wasn’t missing anything vital but that wasn’t going to happen anytime soon. She’d sort Bill out before heading over to Rhyl – if she left the office by midnight she’d be lucky.

  ‘Thank you, everyone. Before you all disappear the bad news is that we also have the ongoing situation over at the Welsh Hills Memorial Gardens, where three prosthetic hips were found instead of the expected two.’ She added the last part for Bill’s benefit. ‘I’ll let Owen explain.’

  Owen pushed up from his chair and wandered to the front of the room. ‘I’ve just come back from a meeting with Dr Mulholland. All being well, we should have the names of the people assigned the prosthetic hips by the end of the day.’ He ran his hand over his beard, a deep frown in evidence. ‘Instead of hanging around, I’d be happy to interview that friend of Ellie’s and save you a job? It’s only ten minutes away or so.’

  Gaby bit down on her lower lip, well aware of the time and the likelihood of rush-hour traffic along the A525. But Owen was a grown-up and one who didn’t take too kindly to her interfering in his home life. So, instead of saying what she thought, all she said was, ‘It’s probably a good idea if you take Amy with you. Phone me if you have anything, and that goes for the rest of you.’ She turned to face them. ‘I appreciate the stress you’re all under but we have to keep on top of the workload. Remember it’s a big bad world out there and Elodie Fry is only ten.’ Gaby headed for the door. ‘DS Davis, my office, if you please.’ She knew it was churlish but there was no way she was giving him the opportunity of either sitting behind her desk or drinking out of her mug again.

  Chapter 18

  Owen

  Monday 3 August, 4.55 p.m. Rhyl

  Heather Powell lived with her parents in a spacious apartment tagged on to the side of their sea-fronted hotel in Rhyl. No cost had been spared to fit out the accommo
dation and Owen was hard-pressed not to slip off his shoes at the entrance, the hole in his sock the only thing stopping him. Like everything else in his life at present, the mundane minutiae of his day, like sock buying, was put on hold until Angelica’s sleeping pattern was such to guarantee more than a couple of hours’ sleep at one stretch.

  After a few minutes of word-wrangling with Heather’s parents, they were shown into a large family room situated at the back of the apartment. No one liked the police turning up on their doorstep unannounced and Owen and Amy had their work cut out trying to convince them that they only had Ellie and Heather’s best interests at heart.

  Heather turned out to be a round-faced, chubby girl with long dark hair straggling her back, and unfortunate teeth – Owen’s thoughts contracted at the sight. There were so many things about the child sitting in front of him, with her hands clasped tightly on her lap, that could cause her to be bullied and it didn’t take a genius to see the truth in Gaby’s words by the way Heather was careful to avoid his gaze. The worst of it was that there was very little he could do to help. Their priority must be finding out what had happened to Ellie.

  ‘Hi there. My name is Owen Bates and this is Amy Potter, but you can call us Owen and Amy. We’re trying to find out about Ellie. I believe you’re her friend?’

  ‘We hang out a bit, if that’s what you mean.’

  ‘That’s exactly what I mean. So, when did you last see her?’

  She wrinkled her nose. ‘That would’ve been Friday at about seven around at hers. Her mum asked me over for tea.’

  ‘Your dad collected you?’

  ‘Yes. Saturdays are busy at the hotel otherwise I could have had a sleepover.’

  ‘Do you often have sleepovers with her then?’

  ‘All the time but usually here instead of—’ She stopped, her finger in her mouth as she bit on the skin around her thumb.

  ‘Instead of …?’ Amy asked softly.

  The expression on Heather’s face told Owen that she wasn’t going to answer. Instead of pursuing it, Amy asked another. ‘So, can you tell me what Ellie was like when you last saw her? You know, was she happy? Sad? Did she seem worried about anything? There must be a reason why she decided to leave home. Is there anything you can tell me that might help us find her?’

  Heather shrugged. ‘I don’t know. She did seem a bit quiet. Not her usual self. She’s normally full of talk about her ballet lessons but on Friday she barely said a thing. Her and me, we’re good mates. We stick together. I was worried I’d maybe done something to annoy her.’ She raised her head again, the downward pull of her mouth an indication of her mood. ‘You will find her, won’t you?’

  ‘We’re doing our very best,’ Amy said, leaning forward in her chair. ‘So, she didn’t say anything then? Anything that might make you think there was a reason behind her running away?’

  ‘She didn’t say much at all. In school, she’s quiet but then so am I. But outside she never shuts up. Friday, she was different. I don’t think she wants to be my friend anymore otherwise she’d have told me what was worrying her.’

  ‘She was worried?’

  ‘I think so. We’ve been trying to grow our nails.’ Heather spread her fingers, displaying ten nails painted in a rainbow of colours. ‘She was beating me by a mile. Friday she’d bitten them right down to the bottom.’

  ‘That girl has the weight of the world on her shoulders,’ Amy said, after the door had closed behind Heather’s back. ‘Do you think she’ll be all right without Ellie around to support her?’

  ‘I’ll have a word with her parents on the way out. We also need to ask them why they were reluctant for her to sleep over at Ellie’s. It’s probably the snob factor but there could be something that we’re missing.’

  ‘While you’re at it, I’ll phone Gaby and give her an update. Oh, I nearly forgot. She said to tell you not to bother to go back to the office. If she sees you before eight tomorrow there’ll be ructions.’ Amy raised her hands in a defensive position at his murderous expression. ‘Don’t shoot the messenger. Those were her words not mine.’

  Chapter 19

  Ronan

  Monday 3 August, 4.55 p.m. Caernarfon

  With his baseball cap pulled low, Ronan helped Ellie off the train, his hand firm around her wrist as they made their way to the exit, their heads tilted away from the CCTV cameras pinned high against the wall. To be discovered after coming so far would be the kind of rookie mistake he wasn’t prepared to make – not after the trouble he’d already taken to ensure her safety. He didn’t release his grip until they were down the road and out of sight of the rush-hour milieu that circled the station entrance.

  As he stopped at the end of the road, the sight of the large imposing Caernarfon Castle rising up in the background caused him a stab of grief. Ronan had liked nothing better than a trip to the castle followed by a special treat of fish and chips eaten sitting on the harbour wall while him and his brothers watched the boats tracing their way along the River Seiont and out towards the Menai Strait. But memories were painful. They reminded him of exactly what he’d lost and that there was no going back to those happier times.

  With a little shake of his head, he pushed the hazy images away only to replace them with the sight of Ellie’s downcast head and determined chin. One hand on her shoulder, he pulled her to a stop, his attention drawn to the small newspaper shop opposite. They had a long walk ahead of them simply because he wasn’t prepared to risk a taxi even though there was money enough in his pockets for such an emergency. The sooner they were off the streets and away from the threat of the ever-curious passers-by, the better.

  ‘I’m going to pop over there,’ he said, pointing a finger at the shop. ‘I want you to wait outside and not speak to anyone,’ he added, lowering his voice to a whisper. ‘Got it?’

  She didn’t bother to reply.

  Within minutes he was back, his arms full of chocolate bars, sweets, bottles of water and a carefully rolled-up newspaper. Reading the paper had never been on the top of his list of life’s essentials and he’d often groaned at his mother’s obsession with the news. In fact, much to the displeasure of both his parents, Ronan wasn’t a great one for reading novels. He quite liked searching up facts but usually on the internet instead of turning the pages of a book. But the newspaper was impossible to ignore, the headlines screaming out in their blackest print about the disappearance of local girl Elodie Fry. He’d barely glanced at it before adding it to his pile of goodies and paying at the till. The man behind the counter didn’t bother to lift his head as he scanned the items into a tidy pile.

  ‘Here, kid. Take a water and whichever sweets and chocolate you want. I’ll pack what’s left in my bag.’ Ronan crouched down on his haunches and opened his rucksack, rearranging what few clothes he had to make room for the additional items.

  ‘But the money?’ she asked, the frown marks wrinkling her smooth brow, making him struggle not to laugh out loud.

  ‘You sound like my …’ He stopped, his attention back on his bag as he stuffed his purchases in any old how, the paper folded into four and squashed down on top before he pulled the strap tight. As always, thoughts of his mother, even innocent fleeting ones like this, made his insides creak in agony.

  ‘I wouldn’t have bought them if we didn’t have the money,’ he said finally, his cheeks deathly pale against the stark relief of his navy cap. ‘We have a bit of a walk ahead of us and, if you’re anything like my younger brothers, sweets and chocolate are bound to help.’ He paused, his skin taking on a deep red colour. ‘Did you need the loo or …?’

  ‘No, I went on the train.’

  ‘So you did. Anything else you need before we head off?’

  But instead of responding, she stuffed the packets of sweets in the top of her rucksack and stood waiting.

  ‘You’re not going to eat those? That’s why I bought them.’

  ‘Not hungry.’

  ‘I thought kids were always hungry for s
weets,’ he said, examining her averted gaze and downturned mouth.

  She’d only made monosyllabic replies to his careful questioning on the train, spending most of the time curled into a ball, her head resting against her bag, which she’d propped up against the window. He hadn’t minded then. The less the other passengers noticed her the better. But now he was worried. He wouldn’t get very far if she was sickening for something. The brave girl who had followed him off the Great Orme and let him cut her hair was missing, replaced by a vision of despair decked out in his brother’s old clothes. He shook his head. There was nothing he could do about it, or about her until they got to the farmhouse – if they made it that far.

  Instead of worrying, Ronan forced himself to calculate how long it would take them to travel what used to only be fifteen minutes by car. They’d have to take the coastal path simply because it was less likely that they’d be spotted. He grabbed her hand again and squeezed it gently, the only thing he could think of to reassure her.

  ‘How do you fancy crossing a swing bridge?’

  Her eyes widened. ‘A swing bridge?’

  ‘It swings back and forth to let boats through. It’s that or adding an extra two miles on to the walk. Your call, kid,’ he said, staring down at his younger brother’s scruffy trainers, which must be a good two or three sizes too big. They were obviously going to be difficult to walk in, even after taking into account the extra pair of socks he’d made her wear. Hot and uncomfortable too. He spared a thought for Caleb and the note he’d left him, folded up into a small square and carefully positioned under his desktop mouse – a place his mother would never think to look. There was no point in arousing suspicion when a few words would ease any concerns his brother might have about his missing clothes. Although, if he knew Caleb as well as he thought he did, it would probably take him months to notice their loss.