Dead Lock (The DI Nick Dixon Crime Series Book 8)

by Damien Boyd

  ‘Nothing, really. I didn’t wake up until lunchtime.’

  ‘We’re going to get you some help, Tarn.’ Sonia pulled her daughter towards her. ‘She can’t go on like this.’

  ‘No, she can’t.’

  Jane spun round to see the social worker, Diane Bradshaw, standing in the doorway.

  Potter squatted down and put her hand on Tanya’s knee.

  ‘Where was Alesha when you woke up?’

  ‘Out.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘I dunno. On her bike somewhere.’

  ‘She’s always out on her bike,’ said Sonia. ‘Sometimes she meets her friends, or she goes over to see him in Highbridge.’

  ‘Who’s “him”?’

  ‘Her bloody useless father.’

  ‘Had she complained of anyone following her?’ asked Potter, looking up at Tanya.

  ‘No.’

  ‘Said anything unusual about anything unusual?’

  ‘No.’

  Tanya began swaying backwards and forwards, her head lolling from side to side.

  ‘She’s going again.’ Sonia allowed Tanya to slump back into the leather sofa.

  ‘Should we call a doctor?’ asked Potter.

  ‘She’ll be fine in a minute or two.’

  ‘What about the press conference later?’

  ‘I’ll make sure she’s all right for that.’

  Potter stood up and walked over to the door. ‘Are you the social worker?’

  ‘Yes,’ replied Bradshaw.

  ‘Follow me.’

  Jane closed the door behind them and stepped back. She knew what was coming and it had been a long time coming. Far too long. She had done her best, but she had to work with social services. Potter didn’t.

  ‘Mrs Bradshaw, is it?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Can you please explain to me what Alesha is doing living in this dump with that for a mother?’

  You go for it, girl.

  ‘Er, well, I—’

  ‘If ever a child was at risk . . .’

  ‘She was monitored closely.’

  ‘By a neighbour, from what I can see.’ Potter checked her phone and threw it into the bottom of her handbag. ‘I mean, if this doesn’t qualify as “at risk”, I don’t know what the bloody hell does.’

  ‘You can’t talk to me like that.’

  ‘Yes, I bloody well can, because I’m the one clearing up your mess. And you’d better hope we don’t find ourselves pulling Alesha’s body from a lake.’

  Chapter Seven

  ‘She’s dead, poor kid,’ muttered Potter, switching off the engine. ‘But don’t tell anyone I said so.’

  ‘What makes you say that?’ asked Jane.

  ‘Two days and not a sign.’ Potter grimaced. ‘I’ve just got a horrible feeling . . .’ Her voice tailed off as she wrenched on the handbrake. ‘Let’s get in there and see if anyone’s come up with anything.’

  Jane followed her across the top floor of the car park, then stepped forward to open the staff entrance with her pass. ‘We’ve still got the reconstruction and then there’s the press conference,’ she said, holding open the door.

  ‘Not much use if we’re looking for a body,’ muttered Potter. ‘You got children?’

  ‘Not yet,’ replied Jane.

  Not yet? Where did that come from?

  She shook her head. It had always been a straight ‘no’ to that question before. ‘How about you?’ she asked, hurriedly.

  ‘Two. And one grandchild.’

  ‘You don’t look old enough.’

  ‘If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were chatting me up.’ Potter forced a smile. ‘Puts a different complexion on it, though.’

  ‘I bet.’ Jane watched Potter trudge along the landing. She paused at the bottom of the stairs, wiped under her eyes with the knuckles of her index fingers and then turned to Jane.

  ‘Game face on. All right?’

  ‘Yes, Ma’am.’

  ‘Not a word.’

  ‘No, Ma’am.’

  Once at the top of the stairs Potter dropped her handbag on to the nearest workstation. This silenced those officers sitting at the front of the room, but not the rest.

  ‘Right.’ Potter clapped her hands and then looked at her watch. ‘We’ve got the reconstruction along Marine Drive at five and the press conference at five thirty. Is everything ready?’

  ‘Yes, Ma’am,’ replied Dave Harding. He was standing behind Mark Pearce holding a plastic cup in each hand.

  ‘And the child?’

  ‘It’s Alesha’s friend, Evie. They look very similar. We’ve got the same bike, tassels and everything, and the same coat too.’

  ‘Good.’

  Louise appeared at the top of the stairs behind Jane. ‘Everything’s ready for the press conference downstairs. The TV crews are just setting up. The father’s here and I’ve left him in a private room with the press officer.’

  ‘What about the school, Bob?’ asked Potter. ‘Did you find anything out about the bullying?’

  Bob, slumped on a swivel chair at the back of the room, sat up sharply. ‘It wasn’t anything serious and the school dealt with it. We’ve got statements from the parents involved and there’s nothing there.’

  ‘Anything else?’

  ‘A few sightings, Ma’am.’ DCI Chard was sitting at a workstation in the corner. A bloody good job Dixon is two hundred and fifty miles away, thought Jane. She could do without the aggravation.

  ‘Some more promising than others,’ continued Chard. ‘All of them followed up and none of them Alesha, sadly.’

  ‘Thank you, Simon.’

  ‘It’s not looking good, is it, Ma’am,’ said Chard. ‘The longer it goes on.’

  ‘I’ll have none of that talk in my team, Simon.’

  ‘No, Ma’am.’

  ‘She’s alive until we find her body. Is that clear?’

  Chard nodded.

  ‘Are we any further forward with the timeline?’ continued Potter.

  ‘No, Ma’am,’ said Chard.

  ‘Well, you know what you’ve got to do, so let’s get on with it.’

  ‘D’you want me at the reconstruction, Ma’am?’ asked Jane.

  ‘Yes,’ replied Potter. ‘How long will that note on Alesha’s background take you?’

  ‘Half an hour.’

  ‘You’ve got twenty minutes,’ said Potter, looking at her watch.

  The Safeguarding Coordination Unit on the first floor was the only office in the building with soundproof walls and a door. Jane closed it behind her, leaned back against it and closed her eyes.

  ‘Not found her yet, then?’

  She opened her eyes to find the one other person in the room staring at her.

  ‘No.’

  ‘You will.’

  ‘I hope so, Sandy.’

  Jane sat down at a workstation, switched on the computer then tapped out a text message on her phone while she waited to log on to the network.

  Where are u? Jx

  She placed the phone on the desk next to her keyboard, staring at it while she typed in her username and password. Then she started on Alesha’s report, still glancing at her phone from time to time. She’d told Potter it would take half an hour, but the reality was ten minutes at most. She just needed to cut and paste a few paragraphs from Alesha’s Child Protection Plan summary into a new document. All those hours keeping her reports up to date had not been a waste of time after all.

  Dixon’s reply came just as she was emailing the document to Potter.

  At the cottage. Monty knackered. Watching telly. Found her yet? Nx

  Jane tapped out a reply with one hand while she scrolled through her emails with the other.

  No. Don’t take him too far. What you watching? Jx

  Jane sighed. Whatever it was it would be in black and white. And poor Monty. She tapped out a second message and sent it.

  He’s not a mountain goat!

  She’d switched off her comp
uter and was counting down the last of the twenty minutes when Dixon’s reply arrived.

  The Ladykillers. Carried him most of way lazy bugger. Gray Crag, Thornthwaite Crag, Caudale Moor and Hartsop Dodd tomorrow

  There was just enough time to wind him up a bit.

  The remake? Jx

  Jane smiled as she dropped her phone into her handbag. ‘See you, Sandy,’ she said, closing the door behind her.

  ‘Good luck.’

  Jane stayed back behind the TV camera crews as they followed Evie along Marine Drive towards Apex Park. Teams of officers were knocking on doors on either side of the road, with still more talking to dog walkers in the park. She watched Potter pacing up and down, glancing expectantly at the officers supervising the house to house enquiries.

  ‘You’d expect to get something from this. Anything,’ she muttered.

  ‘It may come later when it’s been on the news, Ma’am,’ said Jane.

  ‘It’d better.’

  Mark Pearce and Louise were part of the team doing the odd numbers on the far side of the road. Jane watched Louise scribbling on her clipboard while Mark was speaking to a middle aged man at number fifty-one.

  ‘Looks promising,’ said Jane, nodding in that direction.

  She followed Potter across the road to meet Louise, who was running down the garden path.

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘Mr Randall,’ replied Louise. ‘He’s visiting his elderly father. Hasn’t been over since Saturday afternoon. When we knocked here before we just got carers who said Mr Randall senior has dementia and wouldn’t have seen anything.’

  ‘But the son was visiting?’

  ‘He was. And he remembers a white van.’

  ‘It bloody well would be a white van, wouldn’t it,’ said Potter.

  ‘It’s quite a distinctive one. Old, and possibly continental. He thinks maybe a Citroën or a Renault. It had a square front.’ Louise looked down at her clipboard. ‘With a faded grey plastic trim. Transit size, but squarer.’

  ‘Did he see the driver?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘What time was this?’

  ‘He saw it a couple of times, driving up and down. The last time was just before he left at about five o’clock.’

  ‘It fits.’ Potter snatched the clipboard from Louise. ‘I’ll take it from here. You join the rest of the house to house team.’

  ‘Yes, Ma’am.’

  ‘What about me, Ma’am?’ asked Jane.

  ‘You’d better stay for the press conference. And you can make sure they ask the people in Parsons Road about the white van, all right?’

  ‘Yes, Ma’am.’

  They watched in silence as Potter strode down the garden path and invited herself into number fifty-one. Pearce followed.

  Louise spoke first when the front door closed behind them.

  ‘D’you get the feeling she’s clutching at straws?’

  ‘Can you blame her?’ replied Jane.

  ‘I suppose not.’

  ‘It’s the first possible lead we’ve had in forty-eight hours.’

  Louise nodded.

  ‘You’d better get over to Parsons Road,’ continued Jane. ‘I’ll hang on here for Potter.’

  ‘I’ve still got your bag in my car.’

  ‘Leave it there for now and I’ll catch up with you later.’

  Jane watched Louise run back to her car and then reached into her handbag when she felt her phone buzz.

  What remake? Nx

  Microwave from frozen: Cat E – Full power – 6 Minutes. Cook for 3 minutes, stir, replace film lid and cook for a further 3 minutes.

  The only edible thing Jane had been able to find in the cottage was one of Dixon’s Slimming World chicken tikka masalas. It’d have to do. She took out her phone and sent him a text message.

  What category is this microwave? Jx

  Then she leaned back against the worktop and closed her eyes. The press conference had started at 5.30 p.m. and had lasted no more than twenty minutes, allowing ten minutes for editing before the early evening news. Tearful parents pleading for the safe return of their daughter, followed by footage of the Alesha lookalike cycling along Marine Drive.

  Tanya had at least remained conscious throughout, although Jane suspected this was down to some illegal substance. Her tears were genuine though. There had been no doubt about that.

  There had even been time to narrow down the description of the white van and find a photograph of one similar, so maybe that would jog someone’s memory.

  ‘You might as well go home, Jane,’ Potter had said.

  ‘To what?’

  A long evening by the phones had followed, hoping for the one call that might lead them to Alesha.

  Alive would be a bonus now.

  It was only after she sent the text that Jane noticed the time. Gone midnight. She was not going to be popular. Still, at least she wouldn’t be putting on weight.

  No idea. You just got in? Nx

  Yes. Phones all night. Reconstruction on evening news. One good lead. Uniform staking out caravan park at Glastonbury. There’s no milk. Jx

  Jane stirred the masala sauce while she waited for a reply.

  There’s a beer in the fridge :-)

  She slid the plastic tray back into the microwave and set it going for another three minutes.

  Slimming world? xx

  It’s the sugar content. I’m diabetic!

  I know, I know. You get some sleep. Speak tomorrow xx

  Will do. Don’t forget to get bread out Nx

  Jane felt the roof of her mouth with her tongue and winced. She’d waited until the bloody sauce had stopped bubbling. Maybe she should have left it to stand a bit longer than the one minute it said on the packet?

  Sleep would come. It always did. Eventually. But she never understood why it took so much longer when she was exhausted. ‘Too tired to sleep’ was a phrase Dixon had used before and now she understood.

  The streetlights had gone off, plunging the bedroom into pitch darkness. A bit like that cave, although it was warmer, mercifully, even without him next to her and Monty on the end of the bed.

  She rolled over on her side and closed her eyes. At least she hadn’t had to set the alarm.

  ‘You’ve had a long day,’ Potter had said. ‘Just get here when you can tomorrow.’

  Nice of her.

  She tried to picture Alesha somewhere. Anywhere. The last time Jane had seen her she had been standing in the doorway of the flat. Eavesdropping probably, although she said she hadn’t been listening.

  Poor kid.

  Tanya’s mother Sonia had been a bit close to home too. Pictures of Jane’s birth mother began flashing across her mind, of Sonia slumped across the bonnet of a car – that’d been the last time she’d seen her – then standing in the crematorium at Sonia’s funeral, Dixon holding her up. And then there was her half-sister, Lucy, with her nose stud and hair dyed jet black. Or full sister maybe, the only one who knew – possibly – dead from a drug overdose.

  Shit. They were supposed to be calling in on Lucy on their way back from the Lakes.

  And she’d forgotten to ring her mother, her adoptive mother. Her real mother. The one who had been there. Always. She hadn’t said anything – she wouldn’t – but Jane knew she had been nervous about her meeting Sonia.

  Random thoughts and pictures popping into her head. It was either that or sheep jumping over a gate.

  Chapter Eight

  Black coffee and toast. The bread had been frozen, but she’d managed to break off a couple of slices. And she would need a few more coffees if she was going to get through the day. It must’ve been gone one when she finally got to sleep and she was awake by seven.

  Jane yawned as she waited for the steel gates of the staff car park to open. Then she parked in the open on the top level and took her phone out of her handbag. A full signal. Shame. It was a call she had been dreading.

  ‘Lucy, it’s me.’

  ‘Who?�
�

  ‘Jane. Your sister. Remember?’

  ‘I was winding you up.’

  ‘Sorry, it’s been a long night.’ Jane was watching Potter standing on the far side of the car park, stubbing her cigarette out on the top of the wall.

  ‘What’s up?’ asked Lucy. ‘You’ll be here at the weekend, won’t you?’

  ‘I’ve had to come back to work. We’ve had a child go missing.’

  ‘I saw it on Facebook.’

  ‘She’s one of the ones I look after so I was called back, but it means we won’t be stopping in to see you this time, I’m afraid.’ Jane paused. Silence. ‘There’ll be other times, though. Lots of them. All right?’

  ‘I get it. She comes first.’ A loud sigh.

  ‘Don’t be like that, Lucy. It’s my job. Listen, if we find her quickly then I’ll be coming back up and we can . . .’ Jane’s voice tailed off when she heard the familiar beep, beep, beep. She looked at the screen – ‘Call Ended’ – and was about to redial when she noticed Potter staring at her.

  ‘Good morning, Ma’am,’ said Jane, dropping her car keys into her handbag. ‘Didn’t they give you a pass?’

  ‘It’s in my handbag.’ Potter was standing by the staff entrance, waiting for Jane to open it. ‘You’re early.’

  ‘Too tired to sleep,’ she said, swiping her ID card and opening the door.

  ‘Got that T-shirt,’ muttered Potter.

  ‘Anything come from the caravan park?’

  ‘It was empty.’ Potter sighed. ‘We’ve got a few samples off to the lab to see if Alesha had been there, but she sure as hell wasn’t there when they kicked the door in.’

  ‘There are a few other sightings to follow up.’

  ‘Plenty.’

  ‘I’ll be up in a minute.’ Jane continued along the landing to the canteen, while Potter went upstairs to the Incident Room on the second floor.

  ‘Coffee, please.’

  ‘Takeaway or—?’

  The rest of the question was lost in shouting coming from upstairs.

  ‘Better make it a takeaway,’ said Jane, raising her eyebrows.

  ‘Pay me later.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  Jane snatched the coffee and ran. ‘Have we found her?’ she gasped, at the top of the stairs.