DEAD GONE

by Luca Veste

  Sorry for the brevity of this message, but there is not a great deal to tell. The experiment had to be terminated.

  The blood was glorious though. All that blood, from one wound. I think I could have severed her entire head given the inclination.

  Anyway, must dash. You see … I’m already working on number five.

  Unsigned again, handwritten in large sloping letters. Murphy had no doubt it was the same writer. He turned his head to see Rossi making a few notes. ‘What are you writing?’ Murphy said.

  ‘Just the main bits. “Unit 731”, what do you think that is?’ Rossi replied.

  ‘Balls if I know. Maybe we should do as he says, and Google it.’

  ‘Okay, you know how to do it?’

  Murphy snorted. ‘Be my guest, but just because you’ve got a few years on me, doesn’t mean I don’t know how to work the internet, Laura.’

  ‘I didn’t mean you couldn’t, was just saying … you know.’

  ‘Just do it. I’ll do some proper work on finding out who she is. Was.’

  Fingerprints had given them no match to anyone in the system, so Murphy went back to the missing person reports.

  Hannah Reid – Dark Brunette. Not her.

  Carrie Wearing – Aged forty. Strike two.

  Another twenty minutes and Murphy had got precisely nowhere.

  ‘How do we narrow this down?’ Murphy said, looking over his screen towards Rossi.

  Why don’t you check if any missing person reports have come in for students?’

  Shit. Why hadn’t he thought of that? ‘Good thinking. I was just going to suggest the same thing.’

  Rossi hesitated and then thought better of saying anything. Good. He was the one in charge.

  Within five minutes he had two names. One a bit younger than twenty-five, at twenty-two. The other, twenty-seven. Could be either one.

  He walked across the room towards the corner where DCI Stephens was in her small office. Stephens spent most of her time in there, believing in a hands off approach to management, which suited Murphy fine. Two murders in a couple of days meant he had to keep her updated however.

  Murphy rapped on the office door, causing heads of those close by to turn around.

  ‘Come in.’ Stephens’ voice came through the closed door.

  Murphy entered, taking stock of the layout. Everything in its place as usual, Stephens was an incredibly neat person, right down to the slicked-back dark hair, tied in a perfect bun. Immaculate suit, green eyes like lasers, which could spot something dodgy at fifty paces.

  ‘Hello, boss, just thought I’d give you an update,’ Murphy said.

  ‘Of course, David.’ Always the first name, the only person around the place who called him by it. To say it annoyed Murphy would be an understatement, even if she were his boss. Murphy brought the DCI up to speed on the night and morning’s events, telling her about the contents of the letter.

  ‘Do we have any possible names for the victim yet?’ Stephens said.

  ‘Two. Possibly. We’re working on the theory it may be another student.’

  ‘We need to be more proactive. You and Rossi pick one of them and go and visit the next of kin, or whoever reported her missing. Send Brannon to speak to the other one.’

  ‘Okay.’ Brannon going to see a relative of a missing person, possibly to tell them they’d been murdered. Murphy could see that going very badly.

  ‘I want you at the press conference.’ Stephens continued.

  Shit. He’d forgotten about that. He was supposed to be sitting with Donna McMahon’s parents asking for information in a few hours. Murphy hated doing the media thing, he always looked huge next to normal-sized people.

  ‘Yes. Best spruce myself up a bit before that.’ Keep it light. Nothing wrong with him at all.

  ‘Don’t worry, we’ll have the parents do most of the talking.’

  ‘Understood, boss. I’ll get right on it.’

  ‘Good. And how are you feeling, David, you finding this difficult at all?’

  Murphy shifted uncomfortably in his seat. ‘Not at all. You’ve been DCI here the whole time I’ve been a DI. You know I’ve worked murders before.’

  ‘Not since what happened though, David. And this is the first since the unfortunate incident last year.’

  An awkward silence filled the room. ‘Which unfortunate incident are you talking about?’ He smirked as she shifted uncomfortably in her seat.

  ‘That business with the Phillips girl.’

  Murphy stopped smirking as he remembered. Flick. The image front and centre instantly. Nineteen years old. Her whole life ahead of her. Lying on her back, her face a mask of blood.

  The man cuddled up to her, his dirty fingers stroking her hair.

  ‘That won’t happen again.’

  Stephens smiled thinly. ‘Look, David. I know the past year has been tough on you, but you have to move forward. That’s why you’re leading this investigation. I want you to know my door is always open, if you have anything you need to get off your chest. I don’t believe in bottling things up. But if you want to carry on in this job, you need to be able to handle everything that comes with it.’

  Murphy bit back on his initial desire to snap. He swallowed it down and instead went for a conciliatory tone. ‘I can handle it, boss. I appreciate your concern.’

  ‘Very good,’ Stephens replied. ‘Anything else?’

  Murphy shook his head and left the office. The aroma of the perfume Stephens wore religiously, still in his nostrils. The fresher air outside the office relaxed him slightly.

  He made a beeline for Rossi, who was still sat at her desk.

  ‘Laura, get the address for one of these names,’ Murphy told her, finding the two possible mispers on a sheet of paper. ‘We’re going to see them. Boss’ orders. We’re taking the photo Houghton gave us, hopefully they’ll be able to recognise her from it.’

  ‘Okay, any particular one?’

  ‘Take your pick. Brannon can go see the other.’

  ‘Right.’ He noticed her wince slightly. Rossi pulled up the names, and wrote down the address for the first name on the list.

  ‘Stephanie Dunning,’ Murphy said. ‘Let’s go see what you’ve left behind.’

  14

  Sunday 19th February 2012

  11 Months Earlier

  He nursed his cup of cheap-tasting coffee, watching through the window of the cafe as two truck drivers smoked and chatted outside. Mused on whether the services on this motorway differed to any other.

  He’d driven east on the M62, heading for Boston and Jemma’s aunt who lived there. The radio tuned to talkSPORT, two ex-footballers arguing over a penalty which was either given or not given the previous day, Rob couldn’t tell. He’d reached over and switched stations, settling on a soft rock music station as a compromise.

  He didn’t want silence in the car.

  The Waterboys came on, their only recognisable song playing. Rob found himself tapping along to the music on the steering wheel. The song reminded him of his dad, who had been a proper muso. He’d even played saxophone in a few bands in the seventies and eighties, just around the local pubs. One of his bands built a bit of a following, touring around the north of England for a while.

  Rob had tried to introduce some old music to Jemma once. She’d pulled a face. Asked him how old he was. That music released ten years before she was born wasn’t really what she wanted to listen to.

  He looked down at the dashboard, his speed dropping below sixty m.p.h. He put his foot down, gripping the steering wheel tightly.

  The sat nav instructed him to turn off at the next junction, with mostly A roads ahead. Rob relaxed as he let himself be guided along the rest of the journey. The windscreen became rain splattered as the clouds above him grew dark once more.

  As the roads became less busy, the landscape changed around him. He looked from the car at the passing green fields, golf courses, and small farms. The area was a lot nicer than the bustling city
he had left behind, the air cleaner, with fewer buildings cluttering up the view.

  Rob was surprised to find he quite liked it. He and Jemma had always disagreed about moving out of the city one day, light heartedly he’d thought, with Jemma wanting to be somewhere nicer than the endless rows of houses in which they’d lived.

  Was it that? Was he holding her back?

  He shook the thought away.

  The trip had been a pointless exercise. Just another item on his list to cross out. Something to show people in the future that he had tried to find her.

  He’d left not long after arriving, the awkwardness of the encounter driving him away, pulling off near Leeds at a service station after another couple of hours of driving, wishing he’d accepted the offer of food from Jemma’s aunt Alice. Paid well over the odds for a pasty and a coffee which could only have been made with dishwater.

  He took out his phone. Back to the list.

  ‘Hi, Dan.’

  ‘Rob, you okay?’

  That voice. It betrayed Dan’s auspicious upbringing. A world away from the council estate Rob had grown up on. Yet, somehow they’d clicked almost instantly when they’d met at work. Dan was a lecturer, Rob in a lowly admin job at the university. Not exactly well matched for friendship, but it turned out they just got on well. It helped that Dan was into sport, so they always had something to talk about. If they’d been at school, they’d be best friends. As it was, they were the blokes in their thirties version of best mates.

  Really, Dan was the only friend Rob had.

  ‘Jemma didn’t come home on Friday night.’ Rob could feel the emotion rising at the back of his throat. He composed himself, breathed in and out for a few seconds, then told him what had happened since.

  ‘Rob, you need me and I’m there, okay?’ Dan said when he’d finished talking.

  ‘I know, thanks, mate.’

  ‘I’ll pop around in the morning.’

  Rob smiled. ‘You don’t need to, but I’d appreciate the support.’

  ‘Not a problem. Get some rest if you can, I wish you’d have told me sooner.’

  ‘Would you have listened on day one?’

  He heard a chuckle over the line. ‘You caught me out. Listen, I have to go now. If you need anything please call.’

  Rob felt a little better for the phone call, relieved to share the burden. He forced the pasty down him, finishing the coffee off with a wince.

  Now what? The little voice in his head said. What are you going to do now? It wouldn’t be long before that little voice grew louder, constantly telling him how fucking useless he was. How his life meant nothing without her.

  And he would be forced to listen.

  The police turned up the next day.

  Jemma’s mum had called him early that morning, decided she’d had a change of heart over the weekend and was starting to worry. She’d been to her local police station and pulled a few strings with an old friend so they’d take her seriously.

  It was Monday morning and he should have been in work an hour earlier. By now they would have heard Jemma had gone from Dan. Would be best to let them know himself though, especially as he was expecting a knock at the door at any moment.

  Rob finished the call and went through into the kitchen, deciding a cup of coffee and then a fresh plan of action was needed. The kettle had just clicked off the boil when his phone began to ring in the other room. His heart jumped a little.

  He rushed through into the living room, snatching the phone up and frowning at the screen. ‘Unavailable’ was the caller’s display name.

  ‘Hello?’ Rob answered.

  ‘Hi, is that Robert Barker?

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘It’s Detective Constable Nick Ayris here, from Merseyside Police.’

  Rob’s heart was beating against his chest wall, his hand was shaking. He wiped away a sheen of sweat which had formed on his forehead.

  ‘We need to speak to you concerning your recent report of your partner’s disappearance. Would it be possible for myself and another officer to visit you soon?’

  ‘Yes, of course,’ Rob replied. ‘When will you be round?’

  ‘We’re in the area, we’ll be there in ten minutes.’

  ‘Okay. Okay, good.’

  Rob placed the phone back. His palms were sweaty as he ran them through his hair.

  He just had to try to stay calm. He’d followed the list. Nobody could doubt him.

  The knock on the door came a couple of minutes later. Rob rushed to the door, almost breaking the lock in his speed opening it. He’d expected the police, but instead Dan was standing there.

  ‘Hey. How are you?’

  Rob didn’t say anything, turning around and going back to the living room. Dan followed him through.

  ‘You want anything, drink or something?’ Rob said, taking up the same position he’d taken up earlier, his back to the sofa, sitting on the floor. He’d been willing the clock to move faster, get the thing over and done with. If it was bad news, he wanted it ripped off quick like a plaster. Not drawn out, destroying him bit by bit.

  ‘No, I’m okay. Any word?’

  ‘The police are on their way.’ Rob’s voice faltered. ‘I think they may have found out something.’

  Dan crossed the room, sitting on the sofa, his knees level with Rob’s head. ‘You don’t know that yet, Rob. It could be for any number of reasons.’ He laid a protective hand on Rob’s shoulder. ‘Let us see what they have to say first before jumping to conclusions. Okay?’

  Rob wiped his sleeve across his face. ‘Thanks, mate.’

  ‘What are friends for? Although I can’t stay long. I’ll be back later on though. We can go looking for her or something.’

  There was a knock at the door once more. Rob breathed out silently, preparing himself. He pulled himself up, brushed himself down, noticing his jeans were looking a bit scruffy. He hadn’t changed them since the day he’d woken up alone for the first time. He was grateful for the quick shower he’d forced himself to have that morning.

  Opening the door, Rob was greeted with the sight of Little and Large. A big bear of a man, with a nicely shaped dark haired beard, and a small wiry guy with a pointed nose.

  ‘Hi, Rob is it?’ The big bear had a deep voice to match his size. Rob had got into trouble with his short temper in the past, but he tended to choose his fights well. ‘I’m Detective Inspector Murphy, and this is DC Ayris. Can we come in?’

  Yeah, he wouldn’t be choosing one any time soon.

  ‘Of course.’

  Rob showed them in, apologising for the mess, even though he was sure they’d seen worse. He introduced them to Dan, who shook each of their hands in turn. The little one was carrying a small folder, which Rob tried not to look at. His hands clasped together, his sweaty palms made a smacking sound. ‘Can I get you a drink or anything?’ Rob said.

  ‘No, we’re okay thanks,’ the little one, Ayris, answered, before sitting down in the single chair to the right of the sofa. The big one, Murphy, was taking in the room, choosing to stand, by the looks of it. He seemed to be focussed on the pictures on the far wall.

  ‘I assume you’ve come about Jemma?’

  ‘That’s why we’re here. Take a seat, Mr Barker,’ Ayris said, waiting to talk as Rob did as he was told.

  ‘What happened to your hand?’ Murphy said.

  Rob looked at his hand, still cut and red from the previous day. ‘I erm … I got a bit pissed off yesterday, punched a wall,’ he said.

  ‘You do that often?’

  ‘No. It’s been a tough couple of days that’s all.’

  ‘Hmm. Of course. It’s just that you have a bit of history with keeping a lid on your temper, don’t you?’

  ‘What’s that supposed to mean? I got into trouble when I was younger, yeah. But I’m past that now.’ Rob could already see what path the conversation was taking. He was caught in a staring competition with Murphy though, and he wasn’t about to back down.

  ‘
More recently as well,’ Ayris said, looking at his notes, ‘accusations of assault from a Melanie Parker. Your previous girlfriend.’

  ‘I was never charged with anything. She took it all back, said she’d made it up. I don’t lose my temper like that.’

  ‘Until yesterday, of course,’ Murphy said.

  ‘Yes, until yesterday. But that was just frustration. Surely you know what that’s like?’

  ‘I usually don’t take it out on walls. You and Jemma having any problems?’

  ‘No. We were … are fine. She just … I don’t know. She’s been telling her mum and best friend that we were arguing.’

  ‘And you haven’t?’ Murphy was frowning at Rob.

  ‘No,’ Rob replied, his raised voice echoing back to him. ‘We were … fuck, are happy. We never argued really. A few cross words about stupid stuff. Well … except for one time, but that was nothing.’

  ‘Nothing?’

  ‘Look, what’s this got to do with anything? Is anyone doing anything more to find Jemma?’ Change tack, anything to get away from this conversation. Rob could feel his anger rising. He didn’t want them to see that.

  ‘I can assure you we’re doing everything we can, Mr Barker,’ Ayris said, cutting in. Rob was still staring into the big detective’s eyes. Rob looked away.

  ‘Of course,’ Rob said, moving his gaze across to the smaller man. ‘I just don’t know what to do. She’s been gone nearly three days.’

  ‘I, we, understand,’ Ayris said, standing up. ‘We just need to know the whole story. From the beginning. Let’s start again.’

  ‘Thanks I’d appreciate it,’ Rob replied, before explaining everything that had happened over the previous few days.

  Whilst he was talking, the big detective had excused himself from the room. No doubt to snoop around the house. Rob was fine about that. He wouldn’t find anything.

  ‘That’s it. She wasn’t with her aunt, I really don’t know what else to do.’

  ‘Leave it with us now. Get some rest, it looks like you’ve not slept well.’

  ‘I’m sure you understand why,’ Rob replied.

  ‘Of course,’ Ayris said, as Murphy entered the room again, sharing a quick look with him. ‘Thank you for your time.’ He exchanged nods with Dan, Murphy choosing to leave without a word.