by Linda Coles
“I beg your pardon?” Penny Meadows leapt out of her seat as if she’d sat on a firecracker. “I think I’d have noticed if she was, not that Leanne is like that. She’s fifteen, for god’s sake! I can’t believe you’re even asking!”
Dave Meadows went to his wife, who stood wild-eyed, staring down at Jack on the sofa. If it had been a cartoon sketch there’d have been smoke coming from her ears, but it was no laughing matter.
Mr Meadows finally spoke. “You obviously have your reasons, Detective, so why are you asking?”
Jack cleared his throat gently. “I had to check the fact. I’m sorry to have asked. It’s all part of a line of enquiry, but you have confirmed what I thought the answer would be.”
“You said you had a couple of questions. What is the next one?” Dave Meadows had taken over from his wife.
Jack thought about how he might phrase the next firework. “Is Leanne your only child, Mr Meadows. Does she have any sisters or brothers, half-sisters perhaps?”
Dave Meadows’ eyebrows shot up into his hairline. “What is this?” he roared. “Are you trying to make this as painful for us as possible?”
Jack doubted he’d ever seen a man go so red in the face so quickly, and slowly stood to try and calm the tension in the room, his hands spread like two fans, gently pumping up and down.
“I’m so sorry to have asked, but again, it needed confirmation. I don’t want to upset you both any further. It’s a painful time, I know. I’ll see myself out.” He had turned to leave when Penny Meadows spoke in a voice so low, he almost missed it.
“She died at birth.” Jack wasn’t sure if he’d heard her right.
“Penny, no. Don’t upset yourself. It was such a long time ago,” Dave said soothingly. “He’s asking about children still living, I’m guessing?” He turned to Jack, who simply nodded, not daring to say anything else that might upset either of them. But Penny wanted to talk.
“Leanne had a sister. She died at birth.” Her words came slowly, deliberately and full of sorrow. “Only a little older, but older nonetheless. She’s in the cemetery at Adventist Church, the same one where that baby was found a few days ago. We named her Charlotte. You can check if you like.” She looked worn out from the effort and Jack guessed correctly that this wasn’t something that was ever mentioned.
“Thank you. It won’t be necessary. I’m sorry to have asked.” Making his way to the front door with a polite nod, he could hear her faint sobs as Mr Meadows tried to comfort his wife.
Back outside, he felt desolate at the destruction he’d left back in the lounge. Their answer had only confirmed what he had suspected, though he couldn’t have guessed about the death of an earlier child. He could only imagine the pain they were now going through, raking it up back up, not to mention the prospect of losing another if Leanne wasn’t found soon.
At least it had stopped raining. The cold damp air somehow felt cathartic on his skin, a penance for the upset he’d put them through. He hadn’t asked how old the child had been, or how she had been taken from them, but the coincidence of Mary being abandoned at the same church jostled with the unanswered questions. He could find out back at the station, though, how Dave Meadows’ DNA had come to be in the mix. He wasn’t looking forward to asking that particular question.
What a holy mess. Pulling away from the curb, Jack felt sadder than he’d been in a long, long time.
Chapter Thirty-One
“Don’t be long,” her mum called out as Lesley closed the back door, her new Christmas puppy close at her heels on a lead. The small Golden Labrador looked everything like the toilet tissue advert with a personality to match, bounding along without having yet learned manners, chewing on her lead at the same time as doing everything else, her attention darting from one thing to another in double-quick time. Lesley’s parents had given her the puppy a couple of days before Christmas Day itself because it made more sense than keeping it cooped up and quiet somewhere. Lesley would have found or heard it, and since she’d been a little unwell after a nasty cold, they’d both figured it would cheer their daughter up.
They had been right. Two mornings ago, they had both gone into her room, where she was reading a book, and presented the bustling box to her, its contents almost impossible to hide. Lesley had cried with delight. She’d wanted a puppy for so long but her parents had stalled and stalled until now. She’d named the little dog Dora after Dora the Explorer, and she now sported a pink collar with a nametag to match. The name fitted her personality a treat, and now she and her young mistress were virtually inseparable, Dora sleeping in a basket by Lesley’s bed at night. Lesley was responsible for toileting the puppy first thing when she got up in the morning and the last thing before sleep, though her father took her again before he himself retired to bed.
They walked to the end of the road and back, as was their routine while Lesley was on her own. She was under strict instructions not to go any further. Dora and Lesley could go out again later for a longer walk when her father got home and could tag along with them both.
“Come on, Dora.” Lesley chatted encouragingly to the dog, who was straining on her lead by her side. Dora was desperate to run and explore but, it was too soon for the little pup to be out and off her lead, so Lesley picked up her own pace and began to jog lightly to keep up with her new four-legged friend, whose tongue was now hanging out the side of her mouth. The end of daylight wasn’t far away; some streetlamps had already lit up, casting their amber hue on the damp pavement.
The two were nearly at the end of their street. Lesley was telling Dora what she hoped Santa might bring them both and how she knew how much her grandma and granddad would love to meet her new friend. It was going to be the best Christmas ever. So engrossed was she in describing how Christmas worked and what it meant that Lesley didn’t hear the vehicle approach them from behind, nor the door open before it had stopped. Nor did she cry out when a giant hand covered her tiny mouth and strong arms pulled her back into a dark space, all alone save for the person that had dragged her in. The vehicle had then taken off with her muffled cries going neither heard nor answered, leaving her puppy behind to find her own way home.
An hour later, her worried mother had gone out into the street calling for her daughter. She’d seen nothing of either of them and had immediately called the police. It wasn’t like Lesley to wander off or disobey her mother in such a way. Another hour later, when Dora had made her own way back, cold and tired after her adventure, Lesley’s parents feared the worst, knowing she would never have left the puppy on its own.
Something had happened to their Lesley.
It was Eddie who called Jack at home to inform him another young girl had gone missing, and that, like Kate a few days earlier, she’d been out at dusk all alone. A search party had been put together immediately. Uniformed officers were making door-to-door enquiries along the route the youngster had taken, but it seemed nobody had seen or heard a thing in the twilight. Many hadn’t been home from work themselves when it had happened.
Abduction was the most obvious conclusion, considering what they were already dealing with. The parents had been questioned, a family liaison officer appointed, and uniform and volunteers had searched through the night resulting in a big fat nothing. Lesley Raby had disappeared. The cold was a worry if she was still out on her own, but there was nothing left to do but carry on the search and pray she’d simply got lost and had taken shelter somewhere to be found the following day.
Then, when a shift worker who had arrived home unwell at around the time of Lesley’s disappearance told an officer he’d seen a dark Transit van but nothing else, nothing to cause suspicion, he didn’t realize how helpful he’d been. The team, and certainly Jack, didn’t believe in coincidences. They’d spent the night examining camera footage leading out from the area and finally, at nearly five in the morning, they had found what they were looking for: a dark-coloured Transit van with the same registration as the one they’d been checking into, the
one belonging to Martin Coffey.
“Coincidence my ass,” Jack had told DI Morton. It was time to bring Martin Coffey in for a chat.
Chapter Thirty-Two
“Any luck locating Coffey?” Eddie shouted into the squad room as he entered, his body oozing authority and focus for once. Maybe Sue was back on again, Jack thought, or there was a new someone to fill her shoes, more likely. He watched as heads lifted up from what they’d been doing before the arrival of their boss, who was now at the front of the room awaiting a reply.
“Anyone?” Eddie pressed again. Mo stood up, almost toppling over in the effort but managing to steady herself at the last moment, sending the flesh on her bare arm trembling. She was the only person in the room dressed for late summer and Jack assumed she had her own personal central heating or, at the very least, a faulty inbuilt thermostat.
“It seems he’s not been home for a while,” Mo began. “He has a house in Thornton Heath – nothing special, as you’d expect for an ex-con – but nobody has seen him for a week or so. Neighbour thought he might have gone away for Christmas. Seems unlikely, though, don’t you think? Where to exactly in this weather?” Nobody said anything. She referred to her notes. “No family around the south; all up north. He came down south when he left Strangeways, stayed in approved premises for a few months, then moved on to Thornton Heath. Either way, he’s not been home and not been seen.” She sat down again. The pink tinge that had risen up from her cleavage now covered her face and she took a deep breath to refill her lungs.
“Thanks, Mo. What about sightings of the van registered to him. Anyone?” It was Clarke’s turn. She took the stage and added her findings. “It’s been like sorting cooked spaghetti into straight lines, but we’ve got two separate sightings, one on the M25 heading east towards Tilbury again and one on the high street here in Croydon yesterday. No visibility on who was at the wheel, but the reg matches, so the same van. Add that to our third victim going missing, a young girl of twelve called Lesley Raby, who didn’t return after walking her new puppy last night. We’re assuming the van had something to do with her disappearance. A dark Transit was seen in the area, as you know.”
“Right. Good work,” said Eddie. “But I want Coffey in for questioning quick smart, so do what you have to do and bring him in. Anyone got anything else to add? Jack?”
Since his news was nothing to do with the missing girls, he shook his head no. The DNA mixture from Mary was still puzzling him, but as it wasn’t relevant to Leanne’s case and since, according to her parents, Leanne definitely hadn’t been pregnant, it would only confuse things. He did, however, still want to ask Dave Meadows for an explanation, but after yesterday’s upset, he’d have to find the right moment to talk with him alone – preferably in an interview room. He made a mental note to call the doc again, see if she had any ideas as to the strange bowl of DNA stew and how the hell it contained what it did. There had to be another answer.
“Right. Keep me up to date. I want to know the moment you find him and I want eyes and ears at his home address in case he shows. We’ll pick him up soon enough.”
Since there was nothing further to say or report, Eddie headed for the coffee cupboard. Jack marvelled at the man’s lack of effort and idly wondered how his neglected team managed to cope so well and so cohesively.
Tomorrow would be Christmas Eve. It was now extremely unlikely that either of the three missing girls would be home in time to unwrap their presents. All they could hope for now was that they were alive and unharmed somewhere, and preferably together for comfort. He thought of Billy and his girl. Janine had agreed for them to join their festive meal, but he hadn’t done a damn thing about trying to find the boy. Now with Lesley added to their list, the case was going to take all his time and energy, and had become infinitely more urgent. Depending on how the day went, he’d slip out later and do his best with the time he had left.
Back at his desk, he picked the phone up and dialled Dr Winstanley. Perhaps she could throw some light on his DNA stew.
“Hello again, Jack. How’s the case going?” Her voice was like honey on his inner ear.
“Totally confusing, if I’m honest. At least the DNA case is. The other case, the missing girls – that’s simply frustrating, rather than confusing. But it’s baby Mary’s case I’m calling about. Have you a moment?”
“Of course. How can I help?” He imagined her eyes dancing as she spoke and felt immediately guilty for thinking of it at all.
“The missing girl, Leanne, was most definitely not pregnant, according to her parents, not even in secret. She worked at the garden centre and was training hard for the cycling champs, so out and out not possible. Leanne did, however, have a sister, but she died at birth so there are no more sisters, nor brothers, nor half siblings. Again, this is all according to her parents, but I’d still like to get Mr Meadows in for a chat. As you’d expect, they were both extremely upset when I left them both yesterday.”
“Understandably. What can I do?”
“Give me another scenario. How else could the test results have come to be? Somebody has to be the mother and, likewise, somebody has to be the father.” He tossed the problem back at the doc, his mental energy almost depleted, and rubbed his eyes wearily.
What she said next didn’t help him any further.
Chapter Thirty-Three
The three men sat around the makeshift table in the kitchen, cradling mugs filled with cheap instant coffee. In the blue haze of three smouldering cigarettes resting between nicotine-stained fingers, tensions were high.
“It’s your fault for bringing her back,” Martin shouted, spittle landing on the table in front of him. He didn’t attempt to wipe it away but left it gleaming like a glow-worm on a darkened cave wall. Nobody was going to say anything. There was no point riling him up any more. When Martin got angry, it was best to let him vent and keep your head down to avoid a stray backhander. Finally, Rob broke the silence, his brawn far outweighing his brains.
“We couldn’t leave her there. She’d seen us! We couldn’t take the risk. If we had, we wouldn’t be sitting here now. More likely we’d be in a remand cell. Would you have preferred that?” The big man took a long drag on his cigarette to calm his nerves and stop himself from adding something else he might later regret. It wasn’t ideal, and certainly had not been part of their plan to have acquired a fifteen-year-old girl. It wasn’t their market. Her existence was causing them a problem.
“Rob, don’t be a stupid idiot,” Martin said menacingly. Leaning into the other man’s big face he asked, “But why did you have to bring her back here? Why didn’t you deal with the problem somewhere quiet on the way back before she’d seen too much? She’s a loose end now. You’ve caused us a bigger problem we didn’t need to have.”
“Come on, Martin,” the third man, Bernard, said. “Give us a break.” It came out almost whiny and he scrambled to rectify his tone, adding, “Rob and I had to make the decision quickly so we grabbed her. Yeah, it’s not what we planned, so we’ll get it sorted, won’t we, Rob?” He turned to the youngest of the three, the pockmarked muscle who did the grunt work for the trio. He’d only been working with the group a couple of years. Martin and Bernard had made their acquaintance inside, having shared the same wing. Bernard had been in for aggravated robbery, and Martin was in for his part in a kidnapping. When they’d both been released, they’d hooked back up and somehow Rob had tagged along. He was a friend of an acquaintance and pretty handy with his hands, though not in a DIY homemaking kind of way. Unlike his collaborator, Rob was fit and strong. Bernard was the pasty and overweight one.
“Well, as far as we know, she’s only seen my face, not either of yours, so we needn’t panic yet. She’s still got a value if we offload her rather than get rid of her permanently. Why don’t I put some feelers out and see if we can’t get her moved on? With that blonde hair and her size, she could pass for eighteen easy enough with a bit of slap-on and some heels. Make someone a bit of mone
y, like, not to mention we get a payday too.”
Smoke puffed from their three mouths as they thought through what Bernard was suggesting. The air was clogged and almost devoid of clean oxygen. While it was risky that Leanne could identify one of them, she’d probably never see the light of day again anyway, and her new owners could dispose of her when the time came. Martin hated dealing with corpses. They meant too much evidence left lurking that could be linked back to them in a whole manner of ways, so he avoided them at all costs. Being linked to a murder, or murders, meant a good deal longer time in prison, a place he’d rather not go back to. What Bernard was suggesting took that aspect away and made good business sense.
While Martin sat thinking, the others waited for his decision. The strip light overhead flickered a little, as though it too was giving its opinion on what to do. Finally, he spoke.
“We’ll sell her on,” he said quietly. “Set it up, Bernard. Let’s get her gone. We haven’t got the room to keep her here any longer.” He stubbed his cigarette out on the old Formica tabletop. The ashtray was too full and overflowing for one more butt. He stood up to leave, stretching his arms above his head, then rubbed his stubbly face and gave a slight smile only big enough for him to notice.
“Key still in the lock?” he asked almost innocently.
“Fancy a bit yourself, do you?” Bernard asked. “Before she goes, give her a taste, eh? Dirty bugger.” He laughed.
“With your tastes, I think dirty bugger is your domain, paedo. You’re the sicko. I like mine to have tits,” Martin joked as he made his way towards the hallway and the stairs.
“Well, don’t soil the goods, will you? I’ll be hoping for top dollar for a young blonde,” Bernard called after him, and threw his head back laughing. He somehow managed to make a human being sound like a second-hand fur coat that couldn’t be dry cleaned – he had a knack for not giving a toss about valuing a life. Rob watched his co-partner and, rather than raise suspicion, laughed along with him, though inside he was far from happy. But what could he do without getting himself killed? He was in too deep now. The floorboards above his head creaked as Martin made his way to Leanne’s room.
