Blacklight (Dark Yorkshire Book 2)

by J M Dalgliesh

  “A long time. Don’t worry about it, Tim. We’re here to help,” Caslin said and then introduced DS Hunter, who also took an offered hand.

  “Thanks, Nate. Anything you can do will be very much appreciated.”

  Caslin could see the lines of concern etched into the face of his old friend. He barely recognised the boy that he used to know and absently wondered if the feeling was reciprocal. Tim was being polite but it was clear that he was deeply worried about his daughter.

  “Forgive me for being blunt, Tim, but why do you think that something has happened to Natalie?”

  Timothy lifted himself upright, almost as if reverting to a disciplined stance, reminiscent of a soldier on parade. Caslin considered it a by-product of a public-school education, one he was intimately associated with.

  “This is so out-of-character for Natalie. She was thoroughly determined to partake in this research. She’s talked about little else for months. I cannot fathom any reason why she would fail to attend, none at all.”

  “Even so, twenty-something girls can be spontaneous-”

  “Not my Natalie,” he interjected. “Believe me, there is something very wrong.”

  “Is there anything else?” Caslin asked, sensing reticence.

  The man hesitated, meeting Caslin’s eye. The passing moment was brief but telling.

  “We’ve been getting calls, at the house.”

  “What type of calls, nuisance, malicious?”

  Bermond shook his head, “No, they are always silent and then hang up.”

  “I get those all the time, they’re usually automated.”

  “No, no, not those types of calls. They wouldn’t concern me at all. These are at all hours and someone is always on the end of the line. We can hear him.”

  “How do you know it’s a man?” Hunter asked.

  Bermond thought on it before shrugging the question off, “I don’t know, we assumed so but…it’s not just that, there are often sounds in the background. Like it’s a public place, not an office or call centre but say a bar or a gathering, of some sort.”

  “Are they ever threatening?”

  “They feel like it,” he said, his tone fearful. “I know that probably sounds daft.”

  “Not at all, Tim,” Caslin reassured him. “Why do you think these are threatening calls and do you have any idea who might be making them?”

  Again, he shook his head in response, “This just feels wrong.”

  Caslin felt that they weren’t going to get any further at the moment. There were occasions when he felt the need to push relatives to give up more information, believing that they had useful leads for him to follow but at the same time, he wasn’t a monster. The man was extremely anxious and probably thrown by the whole situation. There were other things that Caslin could be doing in the meantime and pressing the parents could wait until later.

  “Why don’t you go home, Tim,” he suggested. About to receive an objection to that idea, Caslin continued, “We can drop by later and have a more detailed conversation. I’ll be in touch the minute I have any news. I give you my word. For now, you’re not needed here but I dare say your wife needs you at home.”

  The last hit the right note and Bermond conceded the point. Once again, he shook hands with Caslin, thanking him for his involvement. Caslin called over a uniformed officer and requested that he arrange a ride home. The last thing he wanted was a preoccupied father causing a road accident on the way.

  “The two of you go way back?” Hunter asked.

  “School friends,” Caslin said. “Until my parents divorced and my mother took me and my brother down south. I can’t have seen Tim, for what…twenty-five, nearly thirty years, something like that.”

  “You didn’t stay in touch?”

  “I was twelve,” Caslin stated, as if that answered everything.

  “What do you reckon, think there’s anything to it?” Hunter asked as they watched the back of the retreating father.

  Caslin blew out his cheeks. He recalled Timothy Bermond as a sensible, pragmatic boy, certainly not one to overreact to a given situation. Tim had always been a steady influence on the younger of the Caslin boys. As a result, he felt he should consider the possibility that there was more going on than it at first appeared. However, that friendship had been decades ago and people changed.

  “Well, whatever’s going on, we have to check it out. Once the press gets a hold of this, they’re going to have a field day.”

  Hunter had to agree. A missing girl would most likely generate a few headlines in the absence of another major story. Throw in the fact that she was the granddaughter of the long serving MP for York Central, and you had a story with a massive public interest.

  Chapter 4

  The drive to the Bermond residence in Harrogate took less than twenty minutes. Hunter pulled the car up outside a large Edwardian townhouse, set back from the road with a well-manicured front garden acting as a buffer to the tree-lined street beyond. Caslin got out and glanced over to the house. Movement from within signalled their arrival had already registered. Caslin and Hunter had barely opened the gate when the front door opened. Both parents stood waiting for them at the threshold, anxious expressions conveyed their expectation of the worst.

  “Have you any news?” Timothy asked, as they mounted the double step to the porch.

  Caslin shook his head, “Please could we go inside, so that we can talk.”

  “Of course.”

  They were beckoned in and shown directly into, what Caslin guessed to be, the sitting room. Little did he know it was the first of three reception rooms. The large bay window to the front enabled the passage of a great deal of natural light and Caslin was impressed with the surroundings. The house was opulent without drifting into decadence. The colour scheme was consistent with the furnishings and he figured the Bermonds had a sense of period style.

  “Please take a seat,” Catherine said, indicating the sofa to their left, one of a pair that faced each other, sprawling almost the width of the room. They did so and Caslin observed her while they all took their seats. Hunter sat next to him, whilst Tim stood to the left of his wife, who held tightly to his right hand. Caslin introduced them both, primarily for Catherine’s sake, before moving to the subject of their daughter.

  “Firstly, I must stress that at this time we have found no evidence that anything has happened to Natalie,” Caslin said as gently as he could. Both parents seemed to relax but only slightly. “However, we are certainly taking your concerns seriously.”

  “It would help us if you could provide some information about her,” Hunter said, taking out her notebook.

  “What would you like to know?” Catherine asked.

  “What type of person is she?” Caslin asked.

  “She’s an amazing daughter, Nathaniel,” Timothy replied. “She has never given us any cause for concern, such as this. She’s a model student, straight As through college and has hit a distinction in each of her first two years at York.”

  “What is she reading?” Hunter enquired, despite already knowing the answer, attempting to ease them into the task at hand.

  “Archaeology,” he replied. “That was why she was due at Fountains Abbey today. They are carrying out a dig in partnership with the National Trust.”

  “Has anything like this ever happened before, anything peculiar? For example, last minute changes of plan that she failed to notify you of?” Caslin questioned. Both parents were taken aback.

  “No, never,” Timothy answered first. “We told you, she’s a model student and daughter.”

  Hunter cast a glance sideways to Caslin but if he noticed, he certainly didn’t acknowledge it.

  “What about boyfriends, anyone on the scene that you are aware of?” Hunter asked.

  Again, Timothy shook his head, “She doesn’t have time for any of that. What with her studies, the debating club, and all the sports that she’s involved in, there wouldn’t be enough hours in the day.”


  “Mrs Bermond?” Caslin turned the question on the mother, who had largely remained silent, thus far. She too, shook her head.

  “No, not that I’m aware of.”

  “Does she live here, with the two of you?” Caslin asked.

  “No, she’s in halls at the university, Vanbrugh College. Fairfax House to be exact,” Timothy stated. “She obviously still has her room here and she comes home sometimes, at the weekends.”

  “Not often, though. Not these days, anyway,” Catherine added.

  “We’d like to take a look at her room, a little later. If you don’t mind?”

  “Not at all,” Tim said.

  “What about friends, is there anyone specific that she is close to? Someone that she might go to, or confide in,” Hunter asked, scribbling away in her pocketbook.

  “She’s a very popular girl,” Timothy said, but Caslin could see the man’s frustration building. “Look, I don’t see how this is getting us anywhere. You should be out there looking for her.”

  “We are, Tim. I assure you, there’re a lot of people doing just that,” Caslin said, deliberately keeping his tone calm and controlled. “We just need a steer as to the best place to focus them, that’s how this can help.”

  He visibly appeared to settle down at that point, his shoulders sagging ever so slightly. His wife’s hold of his hand grew tighter still.

  “What is it you do with yourself these days, Tim?”

  He glanced up at Caslin, “I work for a strategic marketing consultancy, DYC, Deep Yonder Consultants. We have an office here, in Harrogate, and another in London.”

  “You’re a little more than that, darling,” Catherine rubbed the back of his hand with hers. Turning to Caslin she added, “He’s a senior partner. He practically runs the place, by himself.”

  “That’s an exaggeration,” Timothy corrected his wife. “But I do put in the hours. That’s true.”

  “Would there be anyone in your business dealings that could have a grudge against you?”

  “Certainly not!” Timothy was offended at the suggestion.

  “I have to ask, Tim. What about you, Mrs Bermond? Is there anyone that you’ve come across that might wish you or your family harm?”

  She paused before answering, meeting Caslin’s gaze head on with one of her own. He found her incredibly difficult to read. “No.”

  “It would help if we had an up to date photo of Natalie, do you have one that we could borrow? Also, could you provide us with her mobile phone number? I’m assuming that she has one,” Hunter asked, flicking looks between the two parents.

  “Who doesn’t?” Timothy replied. “I can give it to you, but I’ve been calling it all morning and she hasn’t answered once. It cuts straight to voicemail.”

  “That doesn’t matter. We can try and get a hit from her signal, see where she’s been, if not where she is,” Caslin offered. “It may also be useful to see who she’s been talking to in recent days. We’ll get that from her provider.”

  “I’ll see about getting you a photo,” Catherine said, standing up and making to leave the room. At the threshold before passing into the hall, she stopped, appearing momentarily confused, “Forgive me, where are my manners? Would either of you like a cup of tea or coffee?”

  “No, no, we will be fine. But thank you,” Caslin said, without considering Hunter for a moment.

  Timothy watched his wife leave and turned back to the officers, a determined look on his face, “It’s my father that you should be speaking to.”

  “Sebastian?” Caslin reiterated. Timothy nodded fervently.

  “If someone has an axe to grind, no doubt it’ll revolve around him.”

  Caslin sat back in his chair, casting a glance to Hunter who had, involuntarily, ceased writing at the mention of the MP. Sebastian Bermond had recently been appointed to the Commons’ Home Affairs Select Committee, one of the most high-profile and influential, in the system. He had a fearsome reputation and was largely outspoken within his constituency, a trait that seemed to curry favour with the electorate.

  “Why would you say that, Tim?” Caslin asked.

  “I don’t have any evidence, so don’t ask me for it but I always knew that sooner or later, it would come back to bite us.”

  “If you have a specific-”

  “Talk to him.”

  “Tim, I can’t walk into his office and throw an accusation without any substance to back it up.”

  Tim glanced at Hunter, who in turn looked to Caslin. He nodded and Hunter got up and headed in the direction that Catherine had taken, leaving the two men alone.

  “He’s not clean, you know,” Timothy offered in a conspiratorial tone.

  “How so?” Caslin asked, before adding, “Off the record.”

  Tim took a deep breath, looking around before he spoke, as if to ensure they were alone, “My father and I are not close, Nathaniel. We’ve barely spoken in years.”

  Caslin could relate, “Then how can you think that he’s involved?”

  “Not involved, that’s not what I said. Growing up, I used to hear things, come across people at the house from time to time. Things that I wasn’t supposed to be aware of but I made it my business to know. I was curious.”

  “Go on.”

  “I didn’t think much of it at the time, the late-night meetings, quiet chats with men who left via the rear access. As I grew older, I figured that these people weren’t your average lobbyists or business associates.”

  “Who were they?” Caslin asked, intrigued.

  “Well, I don’t really know, not for sure.”

  Caslin noticed that his heart rate had increased with the anticipation but now he considered that this could be nothing but hearsay. Timothy sensed his waning interest and was keen to drive the point home.

  “Listen, Nathaniel. Think about it for a second. Who is Natalie? She is my father’s only grandchild. There would be no point in coming after me, for it’s common knowledge that we can’t stand each other.” It may have been to some but certainly not to Caslin, until now.

  “Is he close to Natalie?”

  “I’ve never sought to keep them apart. My issues with him are mine alone. There’s no reason for Natalie to be a pawn in all of that.”

  “I don’t know. There’s a lot of supposition in there, Tim. Not much for me to work with, if I’m honest with you.”

  “Just talk to him, please,” he implored him. “You’ll recognise it the same as I did, I know you will. I remember you, Nathaniel. That’s why I insisted you be on board.”

  Caslin rubbed at the back of his head, frowning at the same time. He had made a name for himself as one to ruffle feathers in the past. However, he had hoped that those days were behind him. Although, he always knew it to be a vain hope.

  “Leave it with me,” was the best response he could muster.

  Catherine returned to the sitting room, Hunter trailing behind. The former clutched a photo of Natalie in her hand, apparently reluctant to pass it over. Almost as if to do so would be an admission that her daughter may not return. She tentatively passed it to Hunter, who smiled appreciatively.

  “We’ll get this back to you,” Hunter said reassuringly.

  “May we have a look at Natalie’s bedroom now? Caslin asked.

  “Please, come with me,” Timothy said, leading them out into the hall and on up the staircase. They passed a split-level access to a family bathroom at the rear, before coming to an imposing landing. There were four doors off it, with another staircase further along, leading to the next floor. The presentation was once again without fault. “It’s that one, the second left.”

  Timothy appeared as if he didn’t want to enter the bedroom, perhaps not wanting to draw out more emotion than he could handle. Caslin thanked him and indicated that he could leave them to it. Gratefully, the father departed and went back downstairs, presumably to be with his wife.

  Caslin and Hunter opened the door and went inside. The room beyond was large, at least by t
he measures that Caslin placed on bedrooms. The window was cracked open and a cool breeze drifted over them. A single bed was set against one wall, a vanity unit to the side, beneath the sash window. On the adjacent wall was a desk, a laptop lay unopened upon it. Everything was well ordered, with no loose clutter. A few shelves were set out above, holding assorted knick-knacks and an assortment of chick-lit paperbacks. A large, free-standing wardrobe dominated the rear wall and a matching chest of drawers made up the remaining furnishings. All were high quality and crafted from an expensive hardwood, Caslin guessed, as he perused the room.

  Hunter began to sift through the contents of the drawers, to the desk, while Caslin examined the wardrobe. The latter was stocked with a healthy amount of clothes, he figured they were fashionable without being certain, knowing so little about these things. The chest of drawers was also full and he felt slightly voyeuristic as he rummaged through her accumulated underwear. His searches yielded little. He glanced over to Hunter and flicked an eyebrow.

  “There’s nothing here that strikes me as particularly unusual. How about you?” she asked.

  “Same,” he replied. “It doesn’t look like she was planning on going anywhere, not if this lot’s anything to go by.”

  “Most of her valuables will be at her digs, though, won’t they?”

  “The more intimate, personal things, laptop, diary…do people still keep those?”

  “Some.”

  “Do you?” Caslin asked, playfully.

  “That…is none of your business,” Hunter replied in a reciprocal tone.

  Caslin smiled, “I have a warrant card. Everything is my business.”

  There was something unusual here, Caslin figured, just not necessarily directly related to Natalie’s disappearance. The overall impression of the room, and its occupant, was that she was tidy and respectful. There was no mess, no make-up or styling products left out, nor any jewellery to speak of. The trappings of modern media, fashion magazines, posters, the likes of which one would expect to be adorning the floor and walls of a girl’s room, were all absent. That surprised him. The colour scheme, wooden furnishings aside, was overwhelmingly pink. The thought occurred, eyeing the neatly stacked cuddly toys in one corner, that this was the room of a young child rather than that of a twenty-something. He wondered whether Natalie was immature for her age. That might explain the apparent disinterest in boys. Then again, perhaps her parents liked her that way.