‘We picked up a guy last night. Possession and drunk and disorderly. He claims to know something about your case. Or your “skelington in the woods”, as he put it. Not the sharpest tool.’
‘What does he claim to know?’ she asked and Gardner turned and looked at her, questioning. She knew that whatever this guy said would probably be bollocks.
‘I don’t know,’ Mike said with a sigh. She could hear shouting in the background, banging on cell doors. She didn’t envy Mike and his team spending all day and night down there in the cells. ‘He was paralytic last night, couldn’t string a sentence together. And to be honest he’s not much better this morning. Said he saw something.’
‘But he didn’t elaborate?’
‘He claims he saw something suspicious. Could’ve been a body being moved. He wouldn’t tell me anything else. He wanted to speak to someone important. Not a uniformed monkey. Apparently.’
Freeman smiled. She liked Mike Rogen and his dry sense of humour. He put up with all sorts of crap but never let it get to him. He even spoke about some of his ‘regular customers’, as he called them, with affection. He probably knew a lot of them better than most of his friends and family, he spent that much time with them.
‘Is there anyone else who can speak to him? I’m heading to Alnwick.’
‘Rang upstairs. They told me to call you. I can try again but they said they were swamped.’
Freeman looked at Gardner. ‘All right. We’ll be there as soon as we can,’ she said.
‘I’ll be waiting,’ Mike said and hung up.
‘What’s up?’ Gardner asked.
‘Some guy who was arrested last night wants to speak to me about Emma Thorley.’ From Gardner’s lack of expression Freeman guessed he’d had the same experience with these chancer-witnesses. ‘He claims he saw something suspicious. A body. Won’t say anything else yet.’
‘Probably full of it,’ he said and then pulled a face. ‘But then you never know.’
Freeman blew out her cheeks. ‘All right, looks like we’re going home then.’
Gardner frowned at her. ‘We?’ he said. ‘What about Swales?’
She shrugged. ‘I don’t think he’ll be going anywhere. Not with his mother upstairs,’ Freeman said. ‘Plus, we won’t be long.’
‘But what if Lucas is headed there now?’
Freeman sighed. ‘I’ll give Williams another call, see what’s happening.’
‘You could just drop me off,’ he said. ‘I’ll meet you there later.’
‘Blyth’s on the way,’ she said and made a turning. ‘We’ll be half an hour. Tops.’
Gardner didn’t say anything. He wasn’t at all interested in going to Blyth. She just wished she knew why.
Freeman got back into the car and hoped Gardner wouldn’t say anything. Pulling over at the side of the road to vomit was hardly professional. He probably thought she’d been out the night before, had a skinful. She supposed that would be better than the truth. She wished it was the truth. She put her seatbelt on and pulled away. ‘Sorry about that,’ she said. ‘Must be something I ate.’
Gardner glanced at her but said nothing. She suddenly thought about the breakfast he’d so kindly provided that morning and started to apologise, but thought better of it. She didn’t want to talk about it any more.
Freeman pulled up at the lights and hoped that this drunk would have something useful to say. Anything as long as it was useful. As long as it meant driving back to Blyth had been worth it. That postponing going to Ben Swales’ had been worth it. She was just hoping Williams was true to her word and was going to head back over to Ben’s house. Williams claimed Ben and his mother had been safely tucked up inside under the beady eye of a green PC earlier on. Unfortunately, PC Green had been called away to a fight in the town centre and no one had checked on Ben since. For all they knew Ben could’ve packed up his mother in his shitty car and be halfway to Scotland by now. Williams swore she’d go over herself as soon as she got five minutes. Freeman hoped she could trust her. And that it wasn’t too late.
She looked at Gardner. Maybe he’d been right. The closer she got to Blyth the more she started to think that talking to Ben would’ve been a better use of their time than coming to talk to some drunk looking for a deal. Plus Gardner had barely said a word the whole journey. He’d made a few comments about the case, made a little small-talk when she instigated it. But other than that he’d been quiet. She thought about what McIlroy had told her. There was obviously more to it. You don’t just kill someone and keep on working, whether it’s in another town or not. Maybe he’d messed up and got someone killed. She’d tried Googling his name and the word murder but all that came up were articles about cases he’d worked.
She glanced over at him. He sat slumped in his seat, his jaw clenched. He clearly didn’t want to be going back to Blyth and who could blame him if something that bad was hanging over his head. And yet he was going. Did that mean McIlroy had over-dramatised it?
‘Mint?’
Freeman stared at Gardner for a second before realising he’d asked a question. He raised his eyebrows and waved the packet of Polos at her.
‘No,’ she said. ‘Thanks.’ She wondered if he was hinting she had vomit breath. He popped one into his mouth and slid the packet back into his pocket. ‘You don’t sound like you’re from Blyth,’ she said, realising as she said it that trying to subtly get information out of another detective probably wasn’t going to work.
‘You’ve just noticed that,’ he said and smiled. ‘Nice detective work.’
‘No. I noticed your accent before, but I hadn’t given it any thought until just now. Where are you from?’
‘Coventry,’ he said. ‘Originally.’
‘I wouldn’t have guessed that.’
‘Spent a lot of time in London too. Maybe there’s a hint of that in there.’
Freeman nodded. She could pick up little bits of a London accent now that he’d mentioned it. ‘So what made you move up north?’
Gardner cleared his throat and then paused. She thought he wasn’t going to answer.
‘My wife,’ he said eventually and Freeman automatically looked at his left hand. Something he noticed. ‘Divorced,’ he said and Freeman nodded. ‘A long time ago.’
‘Was it because she made you move to Blyth?’
Gardner laughed. ‘That’s where her family lived. She’d been working in London when we met but she wanted to go home. I came with her and we got married six months later.’
‘But it didn’t work out?’ Freeman said. ‘How come?’
Gardner gave her a sideways glance. ‘Sometimes it just doesn’t work,’ he said.
‘So you left when you got divorced? Too many memories?’
‘Something like that.’
There was another silence in the car and Freeman wondered if she’d pushed him too far. She hadn’t asked anything too personal. She hadn’t asked him who he’d killed.
‘So, you keep in touch with any of your old workmates?’ she asked, and Gardner turned and looked at her.
‘What is it you want to know, Detective Freeman?’
She shook her head. ‘Just making conversation.’
‘Right. I gather you’ve already been talking to someone. I can’t blame you for that. But I wouldn’t believe everything you’re told. You know that. You’re a detective.’
‘So why don’t you just tell me what happened?’ she asked.
‘Because it’s irrelevant,’ he said. ‘And none of your business.’
They sat in silence for the rest of the journey, which was thankfully not very long. She knew she shouldn’t have pushed him. And he was right, it was irrelevant and none of her business. It wasn’t as if he’d asked a million questions about her vomiting at the side of the road.
Chapter 61
29 November 1999
Gardner pulled in and sat there wondering what the day would bring. For the first time in his life he hated coming to work. As he’d left
the night before he’d found dog shit on his windscreen again. He barely blinked before retrieving one of the doggy bags from the boot. After the third time he’d decided there had to be a better way to get rid of it than with the sports section of the Guardian. He was starting to think maybe he should get an actual dog to go with the bags. At least he’d have someone to talk to. At least someone would listen when he told them about his crappy life.
He picked up the shit and located McIlroy’s car, returning the crap to its rightful owner. Emptying the contents onto the windscreen, he threw the bag aside. Then he got into his car, put his wipers on to get rid of the remains of the dog turd, and sat watching as people came and went. He didn’t want to go home. The house felt too big, too empty.
But he couldn’t stay at work either. Things were worse than ever. Worse even than in the aftermath of Annie’s announcement. At least then he’d got some pity. Now it was pure scorn. DS Gardner the grass. It made him sick to think about it. He never thought he’d be that person.
The cases he was getting were nearly as shit as the stuff on his windscreen. It wasn’t that DCI Clarkson had it in for him. She was practically the only person to stand by him through the whole thing. It was just that no one wanted to work with him and no matter what was said from on high, if your colleagues haven’t got your back you’re not going to get far. So he was wasting his time on bullshit cases and spending his nights alone.
Maybe he should’ve taken comfort in the knowledge that at least Wallace was going to get his comeuppance. He was now awaiting trial and would hopefully find himself serving at Her Majesty’s Pleasure, though not completely thanks to Gardner. He’d been right in thinking his word wouldn’t exactly be treated as gospel. But when the dealer’s elderly neighbours had come forward and confirmed Gardner’s story suddenly things started being taken seriously. A few too many coppers had been getting away with stuff recently and the media was whipping up a storm of outrage. The top brass decided Wallace would be their poster boy for justice. They didn’t give a monkey’s about the kid who ended up with a brain injury and went blind in one eye. Collateral damage. It was the image of the police force that was at stake and someone had to be the sacrificial pig.
Gardner couldn’t pretend he hadn’t felt anything when Wallace realised he wasn’t getting away with it. But in the end was it all worth it? It didn’t get Annie back – she swore she’d never speak to him again. And it sure as hell didn’t make his own life any easier. He was starting to think he should move, transfer somewhere new. But he didn’t want pricks like Bob McIlroy thinking he’d won. He’d rather spend the rest of his life in misery.
He watched as McIlroy strode towards his car, chest puffed out. Gardner craned his neck to watch his approach and smiled when he noticed the crap. McIlroy spun around, searching for Gardner, who obliged by flashing his lights. McIlroy gave him the finger and Gardner drove away.
And now he was here again for another day in paradise.
A hush fell over the room as Gardner walked into the office. For a second he kept walking to his desk. Awkward silences as he walked in were nothing new. But this time there was something different. The lights on the mini Christmas tree sitting on top of the fridge weren’t flashing. He looked for DC Carol Smith. She always turned them on as soon as she came in. Having the Christmas lights on was more important to her than any crime. Not having them on was a crime in her eyes. He located Carol at McIlroy’s desk, drying her eyes with a tissue. Every other eye was on him.
He didn’t bother asking what was wrong. He doubted anyone would respond. Not even Carol. Carol who used to flirt outrageously with him at every work do despite being fifteen years his senior, who’d bring cakes in for the office and always made sure he got one before the rest of the team. He’d always liked her. He was the one who’d started calling her Smithlet. He didn’t call her that any more. She barely spoke to him these days.
‘DS Gardner?’
Gardner turned and found DCI Clarkson in the doorway of her office. She nodded for him to join her. All eyes followed him. Clarkson closed the door gently and pulled out the leather seat for him to sit down.
‘What’s going on?’ Gardner asked.
‘Please,’ she said. ‘Take a seat.’
Gardner did as he was told and waited for Clarkson to tell him. Instead she sat gazing out at the rest of the team. McIlroy was standing staring in at them, his arms crossed, his face red.
‘What’s wrong with Carol?’
Clarkson let out a deep breath and licked her lips. She looked tired. Before she spoke she spread her hands out on her desk as if to steady herself. ‘I was informed this morning about the death of DS Stuart Wallace,’ she said.
Gardner felt like he’d been hit in the chest with a griddle pan. Wallace was dead? He looked over his shoulder and saw McIlroy was still watching him. He turned back to Clarkson; a thousand thoughts went through his mind. ‘What happened?’
‘It appears that DS Wallace took his own life,’ she said.
Gardner felt the thud against his chest again. He hadn’t been expecting that.
‘Slit his wrists. He wasn’t found until it was too late. He was pronounced dead at the scene.’
Gardner couldn’t get his head around it. Wallace was dead. Killed himself. He’d never have imagined he was the kind of man who’d do that.
‘Jesus. They probably would’ve just given him a slap on the wrist,’ Gardner said.
Clarkson raised an eyebrow and he quickly regretted his choice of words. ‘Probably,’ she said. ‘But clearly he didn’t see it that way.’
Gardner thought he was going to puke. He could feel his pulse in his neck. There was comeuppance and then there was fucking stupid. The stupid bastard. Gardner put his hand over his mouth. He hoped Clarkson didn’t notice the shake.
‘What about Annie?’ he said, more to himself than to Clarkson. ‘Did she find him?’
‘No, but I believe she’s been informed. As has his wife.’
‘His daughter?’
Clarkson shrugged. ‘I imagine her mother would do that,’ she said. ‘She’s how old?’
‘Twelve,’ Gardner said. He almost looked over his shoulder again but couldn’t face the sight of them all. Didn’t know how he was going to walk out of Clarkson’s office. This wasn’t his fault, he knew that. But how many of them agreed with him these days?
Chapter 62
17 December 2010
Adam had called everyone he knew. Whether they knew Louise or not didn’t matter, he called them anyway. He’d knocked on doors and asked neighbours he’d never spoken to before. He’d been to the supermarket and walked up and down every aisle. He’d checked the library, the university, bookshops, the post office, the local shop. Anywhere that Louise went on a semi-regular basis, he tried. And then he called her phone again just in case she’d gone home.
His gut told him something was wrong but he didn’t know what. Or why.
He walked into the police station and told the desk sergeant his problem. The man didn’t seem particularly interested but he told Adam to take a seat and eventually a young, pretty officer came out and asked him to follow her.
Adam felt like an idiot, despite her kind smile, as she invited him to sit down. She introduced herself as PC Lawton and asked Adam to explain his problem. She reached into her pocket and retrieved a notebook.
Adam sighed as he finished telling Lawton what had happened. He knew as he’d driven over to the station that they wouldn’t take him seriously, and despite Lawton trying to make the effort to look like she did, he could tell that she wasn’t too concerned.
‘So your girlfriend—’ she started.
‘Louise,’ Adam said.
‘Louise,’ Lawton repeated. ‘Louise’s been missing since yesterday as far as you know?’
‘That’s it. I don’t know. I was away for the night. I came back this morning and she was gone.’
‘When was the last time you spoke?’
‘
Yesterday afternoon. And I know it’s not long, but she just disappeared. The back door was left open, the door – the glass in the door’s broken, her phone is still there, her purse is still there,’ Adam said. ‘Why would she leave of her own accord and not take them with her?’
Lawton gave him a tight smile. ‘I don’t know, Mr Quinn. You know your girlfriend better than I do. Is she forgetful? Impulsive? Does she have any medical problems?’
Adam rolled his eyes. ‘No she’s not impulsive or forgetful. If I thought she would do something like this I wouldn’t be here. And she has no medical problems,’ he added, wondering if he should’ve been checking the hospitals.
Lawton sighed. ‘I’m sorry but I have to ask these questions.’ She looked at the few notes she’d made. ‘And you said you’ve tried friends and relatives,’ she said.
‘Yes, I’ve tried everyone. I’ve been everywhere she could’ve gone but she’s not in any of those places.’ He leaned forward again. ‘Please. Something’s happened to her. She wouldn’t have just gone. The door was left open.’
‘Were there any other signs of disturbance? Look like anything was taken?’
‘No,’ Adam said. ‘Nothing like that.’
Lawton looked him over and he caught her glancing at his hands. ‘Let me ask you, Mr Quinn, have you had any arguments with your girlfriend recently? Any fights? A dispute over where to spend Christmas Day, something like that?’
‘No,’ Adam said. ‘We haven’t argued. We’re happy.’
Lawton looked Adam in the eye and Adam wondered if she could hear his thoughts. Were they happy? He thought they were, but Louise had been acting weird the last few days. Was that it? Was she unhappy with him? Was that what the address he’d found in her diary was about? She was planning to leave him?
No, he didn’t believe it. If Louise wanted out of their relationship she wouldn’t just go like that. She wouldn’t leave everything behind.
‘We’re happy,’ he said again.
Lawton sighed again. ‘Your girlfriend’s a grown-up, Mr Quinn. Unless she has some kind of mental health problem, there’s nothing I can do for twenty-four hours.’ She put her hand up as Adam started to argue. ‘And I know you said you weren’t there yesterday, but that doesn’t mean Louise wasn’t there.’ She stood up. ‘All I can suggest is that you go home and wait for her to come back. If she hasn’t returned by tonight then give us a call and we’ll see what we can do. We could always send someone to take prints from the door but if nothing was taken . . .’
Gone Page 18
