The Missing Girls

by Carol Wyer

  ‘Leah doesn’t like it on display. Not nice having a photograph of the ex-wife staring at you. Carrie had loads of rows about that too. She’d pull out that photo and leave it on the shelf and then Leah would move it back into the drawer. It was an ongoing battle. I hated listening to those two screaming at each other. I love them both, but some days it was too much. Carrie was always complaining and whining about Leah and vice versa.’ His shoulders sagged again. ‘Maybe if I hadn’t met Leah this wouldn’t have happened.’

  ‘Did they row often?’ Robyn asked.

  ‘Regularly. It got worse last year, and Carrie was a nightmare at times,’ he said. ‘This wasn’t the first time she walked out. She usually came back after a few days. It was nearly always about Leah.’

  ‘It was just verbal arguments though?’ Robyn watched his reactions carefully.

  ‘Mouthing off, mostly. One time Carrie threw a plate at Leah but it missed. I heard the smash and went through to find out what was going on, but neither would tell me what had happened.’

  ‘You don’t think Leah would do anything to hurt Carrie, do you?’

  He shook his head. ‘Never. She’d never have harmed her. Don’t even go there,’ he said, waggling a finger at Robyn.

  ‘No, Mr Miller. I wasn’t implying that. I was trying to get an idea of why Carrie left home.’

  He took a deep breath, returned to the armchair and dropped into it. ‘It was stupid. I’d had a really bad week at work. I’d been on nights, and I’d not slept all day because the pair of them had been yelling and banging doors. I had to drive to Newcastle that night so I wasn’t in the best of moods. Carrie was smoking and I had a go at her. I never liked her smoking. Then she said she was going out with some boy I’d never heard of.

  ‘I got a bit heavy-handed and said something about her not going out dressed like a tart. We had a right stand-off.’ Tears sprang to his eyes. ‘She told me I didn’t care about her, and that I thought more about Leah than her, and that I’d never loved Sofia. That if I had, I’d never have let Leah move in. Then she laughed at me. Said I had no idea of what she got up to, and smoking was nothing compared to what else she did. I was furious by now and told her that as long as she lived under my roof she’d behave properly and she’d be more civil to Leah. That was it. She gave me a look that froze my blood. “I shan’t be living under your roof any more. I’ve already made other plans. You can keep your bloody roof and your whore,” she said.

  ‘Leah came in and that made matters worse. I ended up telling Carrie to sling her hook until she could learn to keep a civil tongue in her head. She was like a wild cat with claws out, hissing and snarling at Leah. I’d had enough. I was sick to death of the fighting. I couldn’t keep the peace any more.’

  ‘But surely, once things had calmed down, you would have wanted to contact her and make sure she was safe?’

  He shook his head and tears trickled down his cheeks. ‘I almost did on a couple of occasions, but Leah thought Carrie would return when she was ready, like she had before. She’d heard Carrie was still living in the area with a friend who’d been in the same class at school, so I thought it was smarter to wait for her to come round. Fact was, it was much better without Carrie and Leah at each other’s throats all day. I didn’t want to go back to the cat-fighting. It was easier to let it lie. Can you understand that?’

  Robyn let out a soft sigh. ‘You must have felt torn between them.’

  ‘I was. I love them both, but Carrie was so difficult to handle. I couldn’t bear the thought of Leah leaving me over Carrie. After Sofia died… I didn’t want to face another loss like that.’ He stopped and choked on a sob. ‘But now I’ve lost my Carrie.’ He lowered his head. His shoulders shook as he sobbed quietly. Leah reappeared and dropped down beside him, pulling him towards her and comforting him. Robyn backed away to the window to give the couple some space.

  ‘Could I visit Carrie’s old room, please?’ Robyn looked at Leah whose eyes were swollen and red.

  ‘Her name’s on the door,’ she said, quietly.

  Robyn left Anna with the couple and climbed the stairs. Carrie’s room overlooked the road and was large enough to house a single bed; a cream faux-leather chair with a purple pillow; a recess that acted as a wardrobe, covered by a screen of shimmering, silver fabric; and a white table, cluttered with make-up, shampoo bottles and discarded hair products. The walls were off-white and bore a collage of black and white photographs, a mixture of various high-heeled shoes and hearts – stones and clouds in the shape of hearts, coffee cups with hearts drawn in the foam, and hearts sketched in the sand. She had hung heart-shaped fairy lights above her bed. On it was a purple duvet, clean and ironed, waiting for Carrie to return.

  The window sill was filled with boxes in the shape of hearts of all sizes. Robyn picked up the smallest box made of cardboard and opened it. The hooped earrings inside it were cheap; the gilt had lifted on one of them, revealing tarnished metal, but the heart-shaped crystal ones sparkled in the light. The other boxes held various items – nail varnish in outrageous colours, fake nails, hair accessories, a key ring with her name on it, a small, porcelain black cat. Behind the silver curtain hung several outfits: jumpers and T-shirts folded and stashed on shelves, a couple of pairs of shoes and a pair of boots. Either Carrie didn’t like the outfits she’d left behind or she’d intended returning.

  Robyn’s suspicions grew. A photograph of Carrie with her mother rested on the window ledge. If Carrie had really left for good, she’d have taken this picture along with the crystal earrings. She searched in the chest of drawers, pulling open the top one. It was crammed with T-shirts and nightdresses and socks, not arranged as tidily as the clothes behind the curtain. Robyn lifted them out and spied something shining at the back of the drawer. It was a packet of unused condoms. Further investigation revealed a half-smoked packet of cigarettes and a disposable lighter along with a blue velvet box. She lifted the lid, her eyes resting on a necklace made of silver bearing the name Carrie. She returned the clothes, heart heavy. A small cough made her turn around. Leah was staring at her.

  ‘She left because of me, you know?’ Leah moved into the bedroom. ‘I told Vince I wanted to talk to you. I’ve left him with your colleague. She seems nice. She’s making him a cup of tea.’

  Robyn shut the drawer and faced the woman, face still blotchy from crying.

  ‘Would you like to chat downstairs?’ she asked.

  Leah walked to the window and looked outside. ‘No. Here’s fine.’ She picked up the photograph of Carrie with her mother and studied it. ‘I wanted to chuck all her stuff out. Vince told me to leave it alone because she’d come back. That’s why the room looks like this. I kept the room clean and tidy, because that’s what he wanted, all the while hoping she’d stay away for ever. And now she will. I got my wish and I feel bloody awful about it. I really disliked her. She crawled under my skin and pushed all my buttons, and I wanted to slap her so hard some days. I never did though.’

  She faced Robyn. ‘She hated me from the day I moved in. She made it clear no one was going to replace her mother and no one was going to get between her and her dad. But I did. Vince and I fell head over heels in love. He believed Carrie would come round eventually, but I knew she wouldn’t.’

  Leah flopped onto the bed. It was a moment before she spoke again. ‘She drove me crazy with her attitude. It was worse when she was with that butch friend of hers – Jade – she’s a nasty piece of work too.’

  Leah looked at Robyn and shook her head. ‘It was a war zone all the time.’

  ‘What happened the night she left, Leah?’ Robyn waited by the drawers for Leah to explain.

  ‘She’d been a pain all afternoon, sat in the sitting room, telly on full blast and staring at her bloody mobile phone all the time. I asked her to turn it off because I had a migraine coming. I get them when I’m stressed. She ignored me, so I marched over to it and turned it off. We had a screaming match. She maintained she was watching it, an
d I said she couldn’t have been because she’d been glued to her bloody phone, messaging her stupid friends like she always does. She said at least she had friends and she was going out. She stormed upstairs, which was normal behaviour for her. I went into the kitchen to make a cup of tea.

  ‘What with the row and my headache, I was in such a state I got disorientated and bashed my face on a cupboard I’d left open. It left quite a bruise.’ She rubbed at an imaginary mark on her cheekbone. ‘That was the final straw. Vince was upstairs, trying to get some sleep before work but I went into our bedroom, pulled out a suitcase from the wardrobe, threw it open on the bed beside him, and started filling it with clothes. Believe me, I’m not proud of my actions but I was desperate. He spotted the bruise and asked me what was going on. I told him Carrie and me had argued and I’d had enough of her. I was leaving. You should have seen his face. He looked so… broken. “I’ll talk to her,” he said.

  ‘He got the full waterworks from me. I knew he couldn’t stand tears. I acted up big time. “It’s her or me. Either she begins to show me some respect, or I leave,” I said. Vince went to talk to her. The rest he told you.’

  A large tear ran down her face. ‘He’ll always blame himself, won’t he? He’ll think this is down to him. But it wasn’t. I manipulated the situation and caused that final row between them. I wanted him to throw her out. I prevented him from phoning her too. I told him I’d heard Carrie was fine and living with her mate Jade, even though I’d heard a rumour she’d moved out.’ She lifted her head, eyes red-rimmed and damp. ‘All this time, I’ve been hoping and wishing Carrie would find a new life and never come back. And now she never will.’

  Eleven

  Robyn and Anna left Vince Miller and Leah with a family liaison officer and headed to the storage unit at Rugeley to speak to the owner, Dev Khan. As they approached the Towers Business Park, an eerie blue cloud hid the cooling towers from view, leaving only their tops visible, like huge grey volcanoes rising from some ancient misty valley.

  ‘My mum got a leaflet in the post about this self-storage place about a month ago,’ said Anna. ‘She kept it on the kitchen worktop for a few days and I made some joke to my dad about it. Asked him if Mum was thinking of depositing anything I should know about.’ Anna’s father was an ex-policeman and had worked in London. ‘He laughed and said, “Only some gold bullion we couldn’t find space for in the house.” He’s such a tease.’

  Robyn smiled. Anna was trying to keep it light-hearted but Robyn was wondering why the owner of the self-storage warehouse had not been suspicious about the trunk and why he had sounded offhand on the phone when she’d spoken to him. She hoped he’d be more forthcoming in the flesh.

  Dev Khan was waiting outside the warehouse for them, sitting in his van, door open, eyes glued to his smartphone. He pushed it into the pocket of his long, black woollen coat and greeted them. With his collar turned up against the cold and a simple blue scarf wrapped around his neck, dark jeans and shining shoes, he looked like the sharp entrepreneur he was. He punched in the code to the first bay door and waited as it whirred into action. ‘I hate this time of the year,’ he commented. ‘I was hoping to go abroad for a couple of weeks. There’s not usually much going on here in January and I could do with some sunshine. But it’s been crazily busy since we did a big promo on the place. Did a massive leaflet delivery programme. Cost a fortune, but it was worth it. Nearly all the units are let out in this and all the other warehouses. Great for business, but not for time off in the sunshine.’ His strong accent gave away his Mancunian roots, something that was substantiated when Robyn asked how many warehouses he owned.

  ‘Almost fifty. We started in our hometown, Manchester, and we moved into Staffordshire and the Midlands two years ago. It’s grown like crazy. It’s surprising how many people need extra space. We can cater for all sizes from small boxes, personal stuff – bills, private documents, that sort of thing – to cars, if anyone wants. We’ve even got a couple of Lamborghinis up in Manchester.’

  He flicked on the overhead lights and the corridor in front of them illuminated, revealing shuttered units, left and right. ‘DI Shearer said to keep the area empty. Any idea when we can let folk have access to these units again?’

  Robyn was taken aback by his attitude. A girl had been found dead in one of his units and he was only interested in re-letting it. ‘It shouldn’t be much longer. PC Shamash and I would like to look at the unit in question again. Forensics have finished work, and once we’ve taken a look that should be it. I understand the unit was let to a woman, a Mrs Joanne Hutchinson.’

  He nodded energetically. ‘That’s right. It was before just Christmas. I happened to be here the day she enquired about it. I don’t normally show people around but she asked to see a couple of units and I was free.’ He shrugged. ‘She was in her late thirties, blonde hair, about your height and very slim. She wore pale-blue jeans, a dark-blue leather jacket and a matching headband. I thought she looked rather attractive. She explained she was going through a messy divorce and wanted to store a few bits and pieces of furniture that she didn’t want her husband to have – antiques that’d been in her family for years. It was a straightforward arrangement. She paid upfront for three months’ rent to allow her time to get moved into her new house. She paid cash because she didn’t want her old man to find out where she’d hidden the furniture and valuables.’ He caught the look on Robyn’s face and explained, ‘It happens more often than you think. We see all sorts of strange things in this business. I wasn’t here when she deposited her gear but Frank was. Frank’s our sort of security guy and keeps an eye on the place. We have CCTV cameras but Frank is here daytimes in case folk need a hand moving their stuff, and to ensure there’s a presence about the place.’

  ‘Did she leave you her contact details?’ asked Robyn.

  Khan flushed. ‘She did, and in light of what the police uncovered today, I followed them up only to discover both her telephone number and address were false. I hold my hands up to this. I ought to have run a stricter check on her but I was in a rush that day and she seemed genuinely nice. I had no reason to suspect her of anything peculiar. Her story was plausible and she paid me the money for three months so I didn’t think she’d do a runner.’ He shrugged.

  Anna wrote in her notebook. ‘Mr Khan, when Mrs Hutchinson arrived, did you happen to notice her car?’

  ‘No, I was talking to someone in the warehouse when she came inside. I think it was Karl – he’s been renting number forty-three since I opened this place. I can give you his number.’

  Robyn kept pace with him as he strode down the corridor, stopping outside unit 127. He turned towards her. ‘No one’s been in since the forensic people left. Look, I’m sorry. I’ve never had a dead body left in my units before. I’m dreading the media getting wind of it. This is really bad for business.’

  ‘It’s worse for the victim’s family,’ said Robyn, icily.

  He bit his lip. ‘You’re right. I’m being disrespectful. I don’t mean to be. I’m an entrepreneur and my businesses are my life. I’ve been focused on building them up since I was seventeen. They’re pretty much all I have. And so I may be coming across as callous. I can assure you, I’m not. This girl’s death is terrible. I’m not very good at emotional stuff, that’s all. Forgive me.’

  She gave a curt nod of her head. ‘Could I ask if you keep the CCTV footage?’

  ‘We do.’

  ‘Is there any possibility you’d have footage of Mrs Joanne Hutchinson?’

  ‘I don’t know the answer to that. We’ve got a box that records twenty-four hours a day but erases footage after twenty-eight days. She was here on December eighteenth. I’ll ask Frank which day she came in with the trunk, and you’re welcome to have the downloaded CCTV footage for the last twenty-eight days. She might have come in again and not been seen by staff.’

  He left the women, the heels of his brogues echoing on the concrete floor as he marched back to the exit. The unit was op
en, cordoned off with yellow tape. Robyn ducked under it and stood at the entrance.

  Anna joined her. ‘The light wasn’t working this morning. It was only a loose fitting. We got it back on for forensics. They checked the entire unit but there were no prints, not even partials.’

  Robyn surveyed the room and paced it out. It was about forty square metres in total. It seemed quite a large space for one trunk. She surmised Joanne Hutchinson had not wanted to draw too much attention to herself, and renting a space too small might have done just that and indeed negated the story about storing pieces of furniture and valuables that she’d told Dev Khan.

  The trunk stood open in the corner, the smell of the contents still evident. Robyn knelt beside it. ‘It seems much longer than a standard storage trunk.’

  ‘We measured it,’ Anna replied. She extracted a notebook and read. ‘It’s 170 centimetres in length, and 80 centimetres high and wide.’

  Robyn cocked her head. ‘It does seem suspiciously large to me. It might have been custom built. I’d say 170 centimetres is about five foot six. I wonder how tall the victim was. Did she fill it completely?’

  ‘She was turned slightly on her side and there was a sheet tucked in under her feet but yes, she filled the space.’

  ‘I wonder if it was made especially to accommodate her.’ Robyn stared at the trunk, lips pursed. ‘Okay, I’ve seen enough. Let’s catch up with Mr Khan, and then I’d like to interview the man who helped Joanne Hutchinson in with this trunk, and check out that chap Karl who rents unit forty-three in case he saw her vehicle.’