The Missing

by Jane Casey

  Carol had moved to stand beside Vickers. ‘You can’t do this. I’ll report this – this censorship. Police brutality. Abuse of powers. I’ll make sure you get in so much trouble, you never work as a police officer again.’

  ‘Oh no, my dear, you’ve got it wrong. I can make sure you never write another word for the Elmview Examiner. Eddie Briggs is a good friend of mine, and he’s no fan of yours, Mrs Shapley, even if he is your boss. Then there’s your car – I’m sure if I go and look at it, I can find some very pressing reasons why it needs to be impounded – for your own safety, you understand.’ He smiled at her. ‘Bit of advice for you: don’t pick a fight with the police. We will win.’

  ‘Are you threatening me?’

  ‘Yes,’ Vickers said simply. ‘And if you know what’s good for you, you’ll forget you ever saw this. Miss Finch is absolutely innocent; I’m quite satisfied of that. She was brought in to speak to us at the police station for operational reasons. She’s been very helpful and very understanding, and what she deserves is a little bit of respect, and her privacy.’

  ‘Why are you doing this?’ Carol’s lips were thin and I thought she was trying not to cry. ‘Why are you standing up for her?’

  He leaned in so his face was inches away from hers. ‘Because I don’t like bullies, Mrs Shapley, and I don’t like the way you work. And I’m watching you. No passing on the information anonymously. If I read one word about Miss Finch in the papers, or hear a single syllable about her on any news programmes, I will hold you personally responsible. I’ll make sure you never get another story from Surrey Police. I’ll call in every favour I can to make your life a misery. Believe me, Mrs Shapley, I mean every word I say.’ He thrust the camera at her. ‘Now, do we have an understanding?’

  She nodded sulkily.

  ‘Let him up, boys.’

  The uniformed officers sat back and let the man scramble to his feet. His clothes were dishevelled and dirty, and his eyes were full of loathing.

  ‘Give me my camera.’

  Carol handed it over and he checked it, running his hands over it, rubbing at a scuff mark. ‘This is an expensive bit of kit. If it’s damaged—’

  ‘If it’s damaged, send the bill to Carol. Now hop it. I’m tired of looking at the pair of you.’ There was something in Vickers’ demeanour that suggested he wasn’t in the mood for further discussions. Wisely, in my view, the pair of them walked off without another word. Carol took the time to glare at me and I stared back, unflinching, even though the cold hatred on her face was chilling.

  Vickers nodded to the two uniformed officers. ‘Thanks, lads.’

  ‘No problem,’ one of them said, his voice so deep it rumbled. ‘Anytime. Anything else we can do for you?’

  ‘Not at present. You can get on your way.’

  The two officers headed across the car park, as unruffled as if what had just happened was all in a day’s work – but then, for them, it was. I was mildly surprised by how effective Vickers had been at manhandling the photographer, but I really shouldn’t have been. He would have done his time on the street in uniform too, even if it had been decades before.

  He turned back to me. ‘Are you all right?’

  I realised that I was shivering and my hands were clammy. ‘Yes. I suppose so. Thank you for that.’

  Vickers laughed. ‘For nothing. That was my pleasure. She’s an evil cow, that Shapley woman, and you’ve had enough trouble from her for one lifetime.’ He gave me a sidelong look. ‘Besides, I like to think that it might make up for what happened today.’

  ‘It wouldn’t have happened at all if you hadn’t arrested me in the first place,’ I pointed out.

  ‘How right you are. Ah, well, I still owe you a favour, then, for agreeing to help us with Paul. Don’t worry, I won’t forget.’

  ‘Don’t worry. Neither will I.’ But I was smiling as I said it. I couldn’t imagine how Vickers would be able to repay me, but that wasn’t the point. What he was telling me was that I was back on his side, on the side of the angels, and it felt like a good place to be.

  I was going to end the day where I had started it, I realised, as I tracked Vickers through the corridors towards the paediatric unit at St Martin’s, where Paul was recovering under the watchful gaze of DS Blake. Blake leaped to his feet when Vickers pushed open the door. I moved from behind Vickers to look at the bed where Paul was lying curled up on his side, his eyes closed.

  ‘Thanks for coming in, Sarah,’ Blake said, digging his hands into his pockets.

  I ignored him, my attention on Paul. His breathing was hoarse, his cheeks were flushed and sweat had slicked his hair to his forehead.

  ‘Is he OK?’ I asked, keeping my voice low.

  ‘He’s been in and out all day. The doctors are happy with him – say he’s recovering well, all things considered. They won’t let us talk to him for very long when he is awake, and we can’t wake him up, I’m afraid, even though you’re here.’

  ‘I wouldn’t let you,’ I said, surprised and not a little irritated. ‘I don’t mind waiting. I have Paul’s interests at heart.’ I didn’t say even if you don’t, but the words hung in the air as if I had.

  Vickers jumped in before Blake had a chance to reply. ‘Speaking of Paul’s interests, this is Audrey Jones, Paul’s social worker.’ He gestured to the corner of the room, where a middle-aged woman was sitting, arms folded under her big, cushiony bosom. ‘Motherly’ was the word that came to mind – whatever that meant. Neither Paul nor I had experience of that sort of mother. In fact, Paul probably didn’t remember his own mother at all, as he had been so young when she died. Audrey nodded at me pleasantly enough, and went on sitting. Dynamic she wasn’t, and not particularly interested in the latest visitor either. I could see why she hadn’t been much use to Vickers, all in all.

  There were only two chairs in the room and Audrey was occupying one. Blake had stepped away from the other, but I didn’t feel I could claim it. I was so tired I felt light-headed. I needed to sit down and I needed caffeine in large quantities.

  ‘Do you think he’ll be asleep for much longer?’

  ‘Probably another half hour,’ Blake said, checking his watch. ‘He comes and goes, but he’s due some food in a while, and that should wake him up.’

  ‘Do you mind if I go and get a cup of coffee?’ I said, turning to Vickers. I knew I wasn’t a prisoner any more, but I still didn’t feel I could walk out of the room without his permission.

  The chief inspector hesitated for a fraction of a second, but assented. ‘Why don’t you take Andy with you?’ he suggested as I reached the door, almost as if it was an afterthought. ‘I can mind young Paul, and you could do with a cuppa, couldn’t you Andy? The canteen’s in the basement, I believe.’

  Without waiting for me to answer, Blake was striding towards the door. I clearly wasn’t getting a choice. I gave Vickers a look that I hoped would convey I know your game, and got the limpid baby blues in return. He could have had a dazzling career as a criminal if he’d taken another path in life, I reflected. No one on earth would have believed him capable of wrongdoing of any kind. At least, not at first glance.

  ‘We really are grateful to you, you know,’ Blake began as soon as the heavy door closed behind us. ‘Especially with what happened today.’

  ‘Being accused of being a paedophile and a murderer? Oh, forget it. Happens all the time.’

  ‘Look, I never thought it was true.’

  I stopped at that, looked at him for a beat, then stalked on, shaking my head. It was a shame that Blake’s legs were so much longer than mine. He had an unfair advantage in the keeping-up stakes.

  ‘We had to arrest you, you know. We couldn’t do it any other way. Not once you said you weren’t going to cooperate any more.’

  ‘And search my house? Go through my things? Talk to my mother? You couldn’t have done that without arresting me, could you?’

  A muscle jumped in his jaw. ‘That wasn’t fun.’

  So he had be
en there. I turned away, wanting to hide my face, afraid that my mortification was easy for him to read.

  ‘I didn’t believe it, Sarah. But what was I supposed to say? “She can’t possibly be guilty because I’ve slept with her”? I don’t even know you – not properly. I didn’t have anything concrete I could use to contradict the evidence. Instinct isn’t enough.’ He’d been speaking at full volume and I frowned at him. Belatedly, he recalled where he was and looked up and down the corridor, checking to see if anyone had overheard.

  ‘I don’t think this is the time or the place to talk about it.’ I stabbed the button to call the lift, imagining it was Andy Blake’s eye.

  He leaned against the wall and folded his arms. ‘I don’t want you to think that I wasn’t doing my best to get you out of there today. I stood up for you.’

  I laughed. ‘You’re not getting it, are you? I don’t care. Whether you believed I was guilty or not doesn’t matter to me in the slightest. I don’t care what you thought, or what you think now. I’m not here for your sake, and I’m not here because Vickers asked me so nicely. I just want to help Paul, help the Shepherds and get out of here.’

  ‘Fine,’ Blake said, his jaw clenched. ‘Let’s just drop it, OK?’

  I didn’t respond. The lift was empty when it arrived and I stood with my back against the wall on one side, as far away from Blake as I could get. He pressed the button for the basement and leaned back against the other side, watching the indicator change as the lift sank down.

  Something else was bothering me.

  ‘What is it?’ he said, without looking at me, as if I had spoken.

  ‘Did you have to say that in there?’

  ‘Say what?’

  ‘About Paul waking up for food. If he heard you, do you have any idea how hurt he would be?’

  ‘Christ, I didn’t mean – I wasn’t even talking about Paul.’ Blake sighed. ‘Every two hours the catering staff come around with the trolley. They practically batter the fucking door down with it. It sounds like the end of the world, and if he could sleep through that I’d be very surprised.’

  ‘Oh,’ I said, in a small voice, and couldn’t think of another thing to say until we had queued up for polystyrene cups filled with steaming liquid. Blake had something greyish that purported to be tea, while I had opted for coffee. It moved like tar and I hoped it was as strong as it looked. He led the way to a table that was far enough away from the other users of the canteen to allow us a little privacy. We were in the original hospital building and the room was cavernous, Victorian architecture at its most lugubrious. The walls were white-painted brick, reinforced with arches that contained heavy cast-iron radiators on full blast in spite of the mild weather. Half-moon windows ran around the top of the room just above ground level, and let in a paltry amount of natural light. All of the lighting at that time of the evening was artificial, however, and the canteen was bathed in the harsh glare of energy-efficient bulbs in great glass shades. Small round laminated tables and stackable plastic chairs filled the room, looking flimsy against the heavy-duty background of Victorian engineering competence. The canteen wasn’t busy – just a few tables were occupied, some with staff, some with dressing-gowned patients sitting with their families or on their own. The hot food had looked villainous when we walked past the counter, belching steam under heat lamps, and I could hardly believe that it was worth the effort to get out of bed and come to the canteen for dinner.

  Across the table, Blake stirred his tea with intense concentration, ignoring me. Maybe Vickers hadn’t sent him to make sure I didn’t escape. Maybe he had really thought his subordinate needed a break. The unforgiving lights gave a bleak, greyish cast to Blake’s skin. He looked exhausted.

  ‘Are you OK?’ I asked, suddenly needing to know.

  ‘I’m all right. Tired.’

  ‘At least you’re getting somewhere.’

  He winced. ‘When we aren’t arresting people who have nothing to do with the case.’

  ‘Seriously, forget about it. I’ll get over it.’

  He took a sip of tea and his face contorted. ‘Jesus. How’s the coffee?’

  ‘Hot,’ I said, watching the steam curl up from the cup in front of me. I couldn’t stop thinking about something that Grange had said to me. ‘Andy – there was one thing I wanted to know. They said – they said that the team was suspicious of me from the start.’

  He shifted in his chair. ‘That’s just routine, Sarah.’

  ‘Is it? Because I was thinking … when you came and took me out to lunch, that was part of it, wasn’t it? You were trying to find out more about me. Vickers probably sent you, didn’t he?’

  Blake had the grace to look embarrassed. ‘It wasn’t the worst job I’ve been told to do, believe me.’

  I had really tried, over the previous few days, not to assume anything about Andrew Blake. I had been careful to have no expectations. I certainly hadn’t imagined a future for us. But it wasn’t until that moment that I knew for certain that nothing was ever going to happen between us. I managed a brittle laugh. ‘I thought you liked me.’

  ‘I did – I do. Look, Sarah, everything that’s happened since then has nothing to do with the job. I met you – what, six days ago? And in the beginning, my only interest was in finding out more about you. But then, things changed.’ He leaned across the table. ‘You seem to think I don’t care about what happened between us, but I could lose my job if that came out. It was risky, Sarah, and stupid, and I don’t regret it for a second.’

  And the risk was probably part of the thrill, I thought miserably. ‘It must happen to you a lot – women throwing themselves at you.’

  ‘Because I’m such a catch,’ Blake said, his voice laden with sarcasm. ‘Look, it does happen now and then – of course it does.’

  I thought of the policewoman at the station glaring at me, of Valerie Wade’s frantic determination to keep me and Blake apart, and I reckoned it happened more than occasionally.

  ‘It doesn’t mean I act on it,’ Blake went on. ‘I never do, if it’s connected with work. Until you came along.’

  ‘How flattering,’ I said thinly, defences still up. ‘But you still arrested me. You didn’t even question me yourself.’ The hurt rang through my voice in spite of my best efforts to suppress it.

  ‘Routine,’ Blake said quickly. ‘Don’t believe what you see on TV – it’s never the investigating officers that do it. Grange and Cooper are trained for it. They’re good at what they do.’

  ‘I believe you.’ I hadn’t exactly appreciated their techniques, all the same.

  ‘Sarah, I did know you weren’t involved, even if you don’t believe me.’

  ‘What if I had been? Like you said, you don’t know me. What if they’d proved that I was part of it? Would you have cared then?’

  ‘Well – probably not.’ He sat back and shrugged. ‘If you commit a crime like that, you’ve got to take what’s coming to you. Once you step over the line, that’s it.’

  ‘And there’s no way back?’

  ‘Not as far as I’m concerned. That’s why I do this job – because there are some people who don’t belong in society. The way they choose to live hurts other people, and my job is to stop them. Simple as that.’

  ‘What about Paul?’

  ‘What about him?’

  ‘He’s just a kid. He’s probably been coerced into taking part in all of this. I’m not really comfortable with asking him questions about it. I don’t want to be the one to trick him into implicating himself. I mean, what’s going to happen to him?’

  ‘It’s up to the courts to decide, not you.’ Blake looked at me and frowned. ‘You have to appreciate that he’s done something very bad indeed, Sarah. He’s committed a serious crime, and whatever the circumstances, he deserves to be punished. Criminals – no matter who they are – have to take responsibility for what they’ve done. It kills me when you get them to court, the things they come out with. It’s never their fault. They always h
ave some excuse, even when they’re pleading guilty. But there’s no excuse for something like this. He’s old enough to know the difference between right and wrong, and if there are extenuating circumstances, the courts will take them into account.’

  ‘It’s all black and white, isn’t it?’

  ‘As far as I’m concerned, yes.’ All business again, he pulled a folded sheet of paper out of the back pocket of his jeans. ‘I’ve got this for you – it’s a list of questions we’d like you to ask him. There are a few things we really need to know before we talk to his brother.’

  ‘If you catch him.’

  ‘We’ll catch him.’ He sounded very sure of himself. But then, they had seemed very confident when they arrested me. I found myself wondering if Vickers and his team really knew what they were doing.

  ‘Have a read through that,’ Blake said, nodding at the paper. It was lying in front of me, still folded over. ‘It’s just to give you somewhere to start. You don’t have to stick to those exact questions in that order, but try to make sure you get the answers we need.’

  ‘I’ll do my best,’ I said, suddenly nervous on my own account. He noticed and smiled.

  ‘You’ll do OK. Just take your time and try not to get flustered. We’ll be there, but we won’t interrupt unless you’re really in difficulties.’

  ‘It’s just a conversation.’

  ‘You’d be surprised how easy it is to forget the most important questions when you’re in there,’ Blake warned. ‘It all seems pretty easy, sitting here, but when you’re listening to the answers and asking follow-up questions, you can get sidetracked and never get back on course.’

  ‘I understand.’

  ‘Here.’ He handed me a pen. ‘You can make some notes if you need to.’

  I pulled the cap off the pen and unfolded the paper. The list was shorter than I’d expected. How Paul knew Jenny. How they got the idea to abuse her. Who came up with the plan. How Paul was involved. Why he didn’t do anything to stop it.