Bring Them Home (Detective Karen Hart Book 1)

by D. S. Butler

  Karen put a hand on Tanya’s arm. ‘You’ll drive yourself mad thinking like that. Incidents like these are so rare.’

  As the kettle came to the boil, Tanya nodded towards the fridge in the corner of the kitchen. ‘Would you mind getting the milk?’

  Karen opened the fridge and pulled the bottle from the door. She couldn’t help noticing how tidy and full of healthy food their fridge was – a stark contrast to her own. She’d have to do an online shop at the weekend. She relied on the delivery service and didn’t know what she’d do without it.

  She hoped DI Morgan was managing to extract some information.

  There was a light sheen of sweat on Matthew Saunders’s brow as DI Morgan looked at him intently.

  ‘Was there something going on between you and Leanne Gibson?’

  Matthew looked towards the doorway. ‘Keep your voice down! Of course not. What gave you that idea?’

  ‘Because when Leanne arrived at the school earlier today, she was quite unhappy to see you there.’

  Matthew shook his head. ‘She wasn’t unhappy. She was just surprised. Look, all right,’ he said and shifted a little closer to DI Morgan. ‘We had a bit of a row about something a couple of months ago, and she hasn’t quite forgiven me. It wasn’t anything bad, honestly. Otherwise I’d have told you.’

  ‘What was this row about?’

  Matthew gave an uneasy chuckle. ‘I can hardly remember now.’

  ‘Try,’ DI Morgan said.

  Matthew groaned and rubbed a hand over his forehead. ‘Fine. We’d organised a playdate. I was supposed to meet her for coffee with a couple of the other mums and I forgot. She took it personally. I told her not to be so silly, and things escalated from there.’

  ‘Is that all?’ DI Morgan asked.

  ‘Yes, I told you it was silly. Something over nothing. She’s probably still a bit peeved at me, that’s all.’

  DI Morgan nodded and smiled. He’d been a police officer for a long time, and if there was one thing he could usually tell, it was when someone was lying to him – and right now, Matthew Saunders was lying.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  By the time they got back to the station, it was eleven p.m. The CID room was still buzzing. Sophie and Rick were busy going through leads received from the public appeal.

  ‘How are you two getting on?’ Karen asked, taking off her coat and throwing it over the back of her chair.

  ‘I feel like I’m drowning in paperwork,’ Rick said. ‘Listen to this one.’ He plucked a piece of paper from his desk and read, ‘Mrs Patterson saw the girls at a McDonald’s in Leeds ten minutes after they went missing.’ He picked up another piece of paper. ‘Mr Clarkson was certain he saw the girls at Manchester Piccadilly Station an hour before they went missing.’

  ‘Well, at least that’s an easy one to rule out – look on the bright side,’ Karen said.

  Rick groaned. ‘I know people are only trying to help. But how are we meant to chase down genuine leads out of this lot?’ He poked the pile of papers in front of him with his finger.

  ‘With methodical police work. We’ll get there. The superintendent’s brought in a lot of bodies to answer the phones and prioritise. We just need one genuine sighting.’

  Rick sighed heavily. ‘I suppose you’re right. I think I need another coffee.’

  Karen looked over at Sophie. She was staring down at the papers on her desk. Her cheeks were flushed with concentration. ‘How are you getting on, Sophie?’

  The fresh-faced DC looked up. ‘About the same as Rick, I’m afraid. I think my eyes are starting to glaze over.’

  ‘Maybe take a coffee break. I could do with one too.’ She turned to DI Morgan and was about to ask him if he’d like a coffee when the duty sergeant burst into the room.

  ‘Sir, there’s an update on the search. I couldn’t put it through to your office. Do you want to take the call here?’

  DI Morgan nodded. ‘Yes, please.’

  ‘Pick up that phone.’ The sergeant pointed to the phone on Karen’s desk. ‘Dial six and then press line one.’

  Everyone in the room turned to watch DI Morgan as he picked up the phone.

  Karen realised she was holding her breath as she waited for the news.

  After a few moments of murmuring yes and no, DI Morgan looked directly at Karen and shook his head. She felt deflated. No news. It was now more than seven hours since the girls had gone missing. They could have been taken anywhere by now.

  DI Morgan put his hand over the mouthpiece and said, ‘Nothing’s been found in the vicinity of the glove except footprints, and they’re far too big to belong to Sian or Emily.’

  Karen trudged to the vending machine and brought back four coffees. They were weak and not altogether pleasant, but at least they contained caffeine.

  Powered by the bitter coffee, they managed to plough on for another two hours before DI Morgan came out of his office again.

  ‘All right, you lot are on the day shift, so you’d better be going home. I want you back here bright and early.’

  Sophie rubbed her eyes and Rick smothered a yawn.

  ‘You’re right, boss,’ he said, ‘but I hate to go home knowing they’re still out there.’

  ‘Other officers will be working through the night, Rick. We’re not giving up on them,’ DI Morgan said. ‘But you’ll be no good tomorrow if you don’t get any sleep, so scarper.’

  ‘All right, you don’t have to tell me twice,’ Rick said, reaching for his coat. ‘Come on, Sophie, let’s go.’

  As Rick and Sophie headed out of the office, Karen stood up and stretched. ‘Are you going home too, sir?’

  DI Morgan nodded. ‘Soon. I just want to finish off a few bits, and I’ll be back first thing tomorrow.’

  Karen picked up her bag and reached for her mobile. ‘All right. I’ll say goodnight then. See you tomorrow. Bright and early.’

  As Karen walked out of the open-plan office area and down the stairs, her legs felt like lead weights. It was horrible to be going home where she’d be safe and warm when she knew Emily and Sian were still out there somewhere. But DI Morgan was right. If they didn’t get any sleep, tomorrow they wouldn’t be able to function. And they had two little girls relying on them.

  Karen drove her Honda Civic through Lincoln. At least driving home this late meant the traffic was light. There was barely a car to be seen as she crossed Pelham Bridge and drove straight on towards Canwick.

  Somehow she was going to have to try and get her brain to calm down enough to sleep tonight. Right now, it was buzzing with suspects and theories. None of which were currently adding up.

  DI Morgan had confided that he believed Matthew Saunders was still hiding something, and Karen had to agree that the man was acting strangely. Although she sensed it was not necessarily related to Emily and Sian’s disappearance.

  Then they had Sian’s uncle, Nick Gibson.

  Sian’s mother had reacted strongly to the idea Nick had upset her daughter. Had it been more than a disagreement over an iPad? Karen sighed. In her current state, Leanne Gibson was not a reliable source. And apart from Nick’s abruptness, Karen hadn’t thought there was anything to suggest he was involved in the girls’ disappearance.

  She wondered if whoever had taken the girls had planned it. Or had Sian and Emily decided to leave school early on their own and then had a chance encounter with a predator?

  Karen rubbed her tired eyes as she drove along Lincoln Road. Her house was a large five-bedroom detached on the main road through Branston. It had a long driveway and was set back from the road, so the noise from the traffic wasn’t too troublesome.

  She indicated and turned into her drive. The security light didn’t come on. She groaned. The bulb must have blown, and she didn’t have the energy to tackle it tonight. Typical police officer, she thought, dispensing advice but neglecting her own home safety.

  She glanced over at the wheelie bins and groaned again. It was bin day tomorrow, and no doubt she’d fo
rget to wheel them up the driveway in the morning so she’d have to do it now.

  The night was cold. There would definitely be an overnight frost, and those poor girls were out there somewhere . . . At least she hoped they were still out there.

  She brushed her hands together as she walked back towards the house, and was almost at the front door, reaching into a pocket for her keys, when there was a movement beside the holly bush.

  Karen’s stomach flipped over. She froze. There was somebody there in the darkness. Waiting for her.

  She clutched the keys tightly, making sure one poked through her fingers, ready to use it in self-defence if she needed to.

  She pulled herself up to full height and called out, ‘Who’s there?’, trying to make her voice sound braver than she felt.

  There was a shuffling sound and a blonde-haired figure stepped out from behind the bush. Karen held her breath before relaxing.

  ‘Mary? What are you doing here?’

  It was Mary Clarke, the victim of domestic abuse who’d shut the door in Karen’s face not long ago. As she got closer, she could see the dried blood on Mary’s cheek and her swollen lip.

  ‘It happened again then,’ Karen said in a dull voice.

  ‘Yeah. I’m sorry.’ Mary’s voice sounded brittle. ‘I hate to bother you, but I didn’t know where else to go. I just couldn’t go home.’

  Karen sighed. This went against every rule in the book. She should phone the station and get someone to come out and take Mary’s statement, get her cleaned up and farmed out to a hostel.

  Despite knowing all that, Karen sighed and said, ‘I suppose you’d better come in.’

  She opened the front door and ushered Mary inside. After asking if she wanted to press charges before destroying any forensic evidence and Mary telling her she did not, Karen showed her the way to the bathroom.

  While Mary was having a bath, Karen fixed them both some chicken soup. It was just tinned stuff, but it would have to do. Karen’s stomach growled as the smell of the soup filled the air as she stirred the pan. It had been a long time since lunch.

  The two women sat down together at the kitchen table.

  ‘It can’t go on like this, Mary,’ Karen said. She paused with the spoon halfway to her mouth.

  Mary wouldn’t make eye contact, but she nodded. ‘I know.’

  ‘There are only two options. You press charges and get him out of your life, or you end up dead.’

  Mary’s hand shook, and the spoon clattered down into her bowl. She put one hand over her eyes and sobbed loudly.

  Karen got up from the table, leaving her soup behind, and stood beside Mary with her hand resting gently on the woman’s shoulder.

  ‘I know you think I’m acting like an unfeeling bitch. But I hate seeing you like this. I want to help, but I can’t if you don’t let me.’

  Mary took in a ragged breath, but she didn’t reply.

  Once Mary had stopped crying, Karen said, ‘Fair enough, it’s late, and I have to be up early tomorrow. The bed’s made up in the spare room next to the bathroom. I’ll leave you the spare key. I need to get going early tomorrow morning. So if you don’t stick around, you can put the key back through the letterbox when you leave, okay?’

  Mary nodded.

  ‘But I strongly suggest you do not go back home. We can work something out. Get you a place in a women’s shelter. A new job. A new life. A life without him.’

  When she didn’t get a response, Karen took the dishes and washed them in the sink. After she’d set the last dish on the draining board, she turned to see that Mary was now standing.

  ‘Thanks for letting me stay,’ Mary said.

  ‘No problem,’ Karen said, drying her hands on a tea towel as Mary walked towards the stairs.

  Karen rolled her shoulders, trying to ease the ache between them. Sometimes there was so much bad stuff in the world, it felt overwhelming. She wanted to be reminded that most people were good but that wasn’t easy in her job.

  Her mind was still too alert to sleep, so she made herself a mug of hot chocolate and sat back down at the table, leaning back against the wall, crossing her legs at her ankles and stretching out.

  The house was far too big. She and Josh had bought it almost ten years ago, and even then it had been a little big for the three of them. They’d joked about getting a golden retriever and giving the dog its own bedroom. Karen smiled at the memory. But now it was just Karen knocking around all alone. The garden was a ridiculous size as well. They’d bought the house because they’d loved the idea of Tilly running around in the garden having fun, climbing the apple trees and playing in the Wendy house. Karen looked out of the kitchen window. It was pitch black out there, but if she closed her eyes, she could picture her little girl squealing with delight as Josh chased her, spraying her with the garden hose on a magical day in the last summer they’d shared together.

  It would be sensible to move somewhere more central, smaller, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it for the same reason she didn’t want to move away from Lincolnshire. She was scared that any distance she put between herself and her old life would make those precious memories grow fainter and fainter until they disappeared completely.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  After a restless night’s sleep, Karen got up early. She was in the shower by five a.m. and tiptoed around so she didn’t wake Mary, who she assumed was asleep in the spare room.

  She scrunched a little hairstyling foam through her hair. Fortunately, her dark hair was short and spiky and dried quickly. It was so much more convenient than having to blow-dry it every morning and one of the reasons she kept it short.

  She plucked a pair of plain grey trousers from the wardrobe, selected a pale lilac cotton shirt and then shrugged on a grey cardigan. Layered clothing helped keep out the cold, and she’d need the extra warmth today. The weather app on her phone predicted a maximum temperature of six degrees.

  She was about to go downstairs when she noticed the spare room door was wide open. She tiptoed across the landing and poked her head around the door. The bed was made up. The bathroom was empty too. There was no sign of Mary. She’d gone.

  Karen quickly checked the other bedrooms. Mary had probably gone back home to her so-called partner, the man who beat her up.

  ‘Why?’ Karen muttered, hitting the side of her fist on the wall in frustration.

  She knew domestic violence situations were complicated. And she was quite sure Mary’s partner could be charming when he wanted to be. He probably told her it would never happen again, that he couldn’t live without her. They always said that.

  She’d offered her a way out on numerous occasions, and Mary had told her that her family was desperate for her to kick him to the kerb. It wasn’t as though she didn’t have support, but it seemed that wasn’t enough.

  Irritated and frustrated, Karen stalked away from the spare bedroom and stomped down the stairs.

  She’d have to put it out of her mind for now. She needed to get to the station and focus on the case. She’d offered Mary help, but if the woman wasn’t ready to accept it there was nothing Karen could do.

  But there was something Karen could do for those two little girls.

  She considered going straight to work without coffee, and then quickly decided that was a very bad idea. Even a few sips of caffeine would help. She spooned instant coffee into a cup and scrolled through her phone looking at social media, the local news and her emails as she waited for the kettle to boil. No developments had been reported in the press. Of course, that didn’t mean the team hadn’t uncovered anything new, only that the press hadn’t got wind of it yet.

  Karen finished making the coffee and took a couple of sips before throwing the rest down the sink. After grabbing her coat and bag, she left the house. It was still dark, and the security light switched on as Karen walked towards her car. It must have been playing up as she was sure it hadn’t come on last night. She’d have to get someone in to look at it. Another
thing to add to the growing number of jobs waiting for her attention. Her mind was full of the case and her to-do list, so when Christine called out to her over the fence, she jumped.

  ‘Morning, Karen, love. I thought you’d be off early. Here you go.’ Christine leaned over the fence that separated their front gardens and held out a thermal cup. ‘Filter coffee. The cup keeps it hot.’

  Christine was already dressed. She had trouble sleeping for more than five hours a night and was often up very early.

  Karen walked over. ‘You’re an angel, Christine.’

  ‘You just take care of yourself. Don’t push too hard.’

  Karen smiled. ‘I won’t.’

  ‘I asked around, and people are talking about those two missing girls as you’d expect.’

  ‘Did anyone see anything unusual?’

  She shook her head. ‘Nothing. There’s the usual gossip, of course.’

  ‘What are people saying?’

  Christine pulled a face. ‘Mostly moaning about the police. They remember Amy’s disappearance and now two little girls have gone missing. People are shaken up by it.’

  ‘That’s understandable.’ Karen turned away and then stopped. ‘Christine, if you see a blonde-haired woman hanging about my place today, could you let her in?’

  Christine looked surprised. ‘Of course, I’ve got your spare key.’

  She had a spare in case of emergencies and had let the British Gas man into Karen’s house in the past, but Karen was aware the unusual circumstances needed explanation.

  ‘Thanks. The woman’s name is Mary. She’s been a victim of domestic abuse and I’ve been trying to help her. It’s like talking to a brick wall, though. The woman won’t see sense.’

  ‘I’ll keep an eye out for her.’

  ‘She may not come back.’ Karen shrugged. ‘And there’s no reason to think her abusive partner will turn up here, but I wanted you to be aware of the situation just in case. I’m starting to think she doesn’t want my help. It’s so frustrating. We could have her in a safe house by now, rebuilding her life.’