by Trevor Negus
‘But not today?’
‘I’ve already spoken at length with Alina. She has told me that she was there in plenty of time, but didn’t see Emily come out of the school.’
‘Is Alina around? I’d like to speak to her, if I may?’
‘She’s upstairs in her room. I’ll go and get her. Rather than talking to the hired help, shouldn’t you be out there looking for my daughter?’
‘Mrs Whitchurch, your daughter’s details and description have already been circulated to every officer on duty. We used the details from her previous missing person report. Officers have been actively looking for her since your husband made the report.’
Somewhat chastened by the policewoman’s curt reply, Rebecca said quietly, ‘I’ll go and get Alina.’
As soon as his wife left the room, Dominic said quietly, ‘Our daughter can be very headstrong. She’s also extremely naïve and trusting, not very streetwise. After what happened last time, I’m very concerned.’
‘Try not to worry, Mr Whitchurch. I’m sure we’ll find her very soon. While I’m talking to your au pair, would you find me a recent photograph of Emily and a list of her best friends at school, please?’
‘I’m sorry, I don’t know any of her friends’ names. My wife will probably be able to help you better with that. I’ll go and find a recent photograph.’
Briefly left on her own in the lounge, PC Tyler wondered exactly what sort of father Dominic was, if he had no idea who his daughter’s best friends were.
The return of Rebecca Whitchurch with a very nervous-looking au pair brought PC Tyler back from her thoughts.
She looked at an obviously anxious Alina and said, ‘Please don’t be worried. You’re not in any trouble. I just need to ask you a few questions. Okay?’
Alina nodded.
The policewoman said gently, ‘What time did you arrive at the school today?’
‘I got there at three fifteen, as usual.’
‘Where did you park your car?’
‘Outside the school gates.’
‘Did you find a parking space okay?’
‘Yes. I always park in the same place. I only have a Mini, so it’s easy to park.’
‘What time does Emily usually come out of school?’
‘Usually around three thirty.’
‘Does she have any close friends she walks with?’
Alina hesitated, and the hesitation was noted by the experienced policewoman.
Eventually, the young au pair said, ‘Emily only has a couple of friends at the school.’
Rebecca interrupted and said, ‘That’s ridiculous! Emily has lots of friends.’
Alina said, ‘No. Only two really, Rosie and Polly.’
‘Do you know their last names?’
‘No, I don’t. Sorry.’
‘Did you see Rosie or Polly today while you were waiting for Emily?’
‘No, I didn’t. When I went into the school to look for Emily, the teacher I spoke to told me that Rosie and Polly were rehearsing or something, and that they were both still in school.’
‘Okay, Alina. Thank you.’
‘Is that it?’
‘That’s all for now.’
Rebecca said, ‘Go to your room, Alina.’
As soon as the au pair left the lounge, PC Tyler said, ‘How long has she been working for you?’
‘Just over three months. We set her on just after Emily went missing last time. My husband and I are very busy people. We often have to work away from home. I wanted someone to be here for Emily. I wanted her to be met outside the school by someone every day. Up until today, everything had worked perfectly.’
‘Where did you find Alina?’
‘From a very reputable agency.’
‘I’ll need the details of the agency so I can check her background.’
‘They’ll be in the study; I’ll find them for you.’
‘Thanks.’
As Rebecca left, Dominic walked back into the lounge and said, ‘Here’s that photograph.’
PC Tyler looked at the fresh-faced girl in the photograph, with her long blonde hair and large blue eyes. She said, ‘Is this recent?’
‘Yes. It was taken a couple of months ago. We all managed to get away for a couple of days, skiing in France.’
Rebecca returned with the au pair agency documentation. She handed the paperwork to PC Tyler and asked, ‘Is there anything else you need?’
‘I think I’ve got everything I need for now, thanks. I would like to have a quick look at Emily’s bedroom before I go.’
Rebecca turned to her husband and said wearily, ‘Dom, can you show her where it is, please? I’ve got one of my headaches coming on.’
Dominic nodded and said, ‘This way, Officer.’
PC Tyler followed him upstairs.
The bedroom was unremarkable. It was like any other fourteen-year-old girl’s bedroom. There were posters of pop stars on the walls, cuddly toys, a pink duvet cover and cushions.
PC Tyler said, ‘Does your daughter keep a diary?’
‘If she does, I’ve never seen it. My wife has certainly never mentioned seeing one to me.’
‘I’d like to have a quick look through her things, to see if I can find anything.’
‘Please, look wherever you like.’
After a brief search, PC Tyler had found nothing. She followed Dominic back down the stairs, to the front door of the house. She said, ‘Thank you, Mr Whitchurch. As I said to you earlier, please try not to worry. I’m sure we’ll find Emily soon.’
‘Thanks, we’ll try.’
As she walked down the long driveway, PC Tyler was troubled.
There was no obvious reason for this young girl to go missing. There was something about the young au pair that didn’t feel right. The experienced policewoman knew when she was being lied to. Then there was the general air of apathy shown by the girl’s parents.
PC Tyler knew that if it had been her own fourteen-year-old daughter who was missing, out on the streets in such foul weather, she would have been going out of her mind, frantic with worry.
They both said the right things and made the right gestures of despair, but there was no raw emotion or fear being shown by either parent.
She ran to the patrol car, jumped inside out of the heavy rain and headed for the police station. She needed to run her thoughts past her sergeant.
Something about this whole thing just didn’t feel right.
PC Sandra Tyler had learned a long time ago to always trust her instincts.
10
9.00am, 3 October 1986
Mansfield Woodhouse Cemetery
Sam Jamieson stared down at the shiny black marble headstone that bore his daughter’s name in gold letters. The rain, which was now falling heavily, cascaded down over the visor of his crash helmet and onto his black leather jacket.
In his gloved hands, he held a bunch of red and white carnations. Bending forward, he placed the flowers at the base of the headstone. He closed his eyes and whispered a silent prayer before standing upright.
Having placed the flowers and confided in God, he glanced around to make sure he was alone. Satisfied that no one was within earshot, he began a conversation with his daughter. He spoke out loud: ‘I’m going away for a little while, sweetheart, but I’ll be back soon.’
He paused, then said, ‘I hope you’re proud of your old dad. I’ve got a place at Nottingham University to study for my master’s degree. How about that, eh? Not bad for a Woodhouse lad!’
He paused again, as though waiting to hear the answer that would never come from his daughter, before continuing, ‘So, I’m going to be living in digs in Nottingham at a place called Forest Fields. It’s not far from where I took you to that big funfair, the Goose Fair. Do you remember that? That was a fun night, wasn’t it?’
Once again, the delay.
‘I’m going to be gone for a couple of years, but I’ll come back and visit you whenever I can. I’ll bring more flowers a
nd tell you how I’m getting on at university. I’m also going to take time off from my studies, to meet the person responsible for you being here, sweetheart. You know who I mean, don’t you?’
No pause now.
‘While I’m living in Nottingham, I’m going to track the bitch down and make her pay for what she’s done to us. What do you think of that?’
No pause.
‘I knew that would put a smile on your face and make you happy, gorgeous girl. I’ll be back to talk to you again soon. Don’t ever forget, Vanessa, your daddy loves you.’
He turned and walked briskly away from the grave.
He had parked his motorcycle next to the chapel of rest. The red-brick building stood at the top of the small hill that led down to black wrought-iron gates that guarded the entrance into Leeming Lane cemetery.
Without once looking back at the headstone, he strode through the deserted graveyard until he reached his motorcycle. He started it up and rode away. He had made a vow to his dead daughter a long time ago. It was now time to carry that promise through.
He owed it to Vanessa to ensure that justice was done.
As far as Sam Jamieson was concerned, his only daughter was lying dead in the ground because he had been wrongfully incarcerated and left to rot in prison for seven long years.
As he sped along the wet streets, the same question he had asked himself many times before came rushing back into his brain.
Why did that bitch Whitchurch go out of her way to put me behind bars?
This time, the answer came smashing through.
Rebecca Whitchurch had put him behind bars to further her career, nothing more, nothing less. She had known that he hadn’t been involved in the offence, but had still prosecuted him.
Where is the justice in that?
The time for her to pay for all that greed, all that ambition, all that arrogance and indifference to true justice, was fast approaching.
11
4.15pm, 3 October 1986
Nottingham
The young girl sat up and tried to look around.
Her head was pounding, and her wrists hurt so badly, she felt like crying. She was in a very dark place and strained her eyes to see. Try as she might, she couldn’t make anything out. It was pitch black. There didn’t appear to be any light anywhere.
She began to rack her brains, trying to find the answers to so many questions. How did I come to be here? What happened? Why am I here? The most worrying question of all overwhelmed the others: What is going to happen next?
When no obvious answers came to her, she began to try to take stock of her situation. She knew she was cold, but she was still wearing her clothes. Her hands were bound tightly together, and that was why her wrists were aching so much. She was sitting on some sort of scruffy mattress in a small dark room. Now that her eyes had fully adjusted to the darkness, she could see that there were no windows. She could just make out the single door in one wall.
There was a strange, repetitive noise coming from above her, one that she couldn’t quite recognise.
The young girl started to shout for help. There was no response to her shouts except for a sudden fluttering noise above her head. She now realised that the repetitive noise she had heard was the sound of pigeons cooing. Her shouts had scared the birds, and the fluttering sound was them flying away.
Her throat was parched, and her repeated shouts for help became more and more croaky.
Suddenly, there was a scraping noise coming from the direction of the door. In the darkness, she heard a man’s voice: ‘Be quiet, and I’ll bring you water. If you keep shouting, you’ll get fuck all.’
She shouted back, ‘Please, I’m so thirsty. I promise I’ll be quiet.’
The door slowly opened.
Instinctively, the young girl recoiled in horror from the black-clad figure who stepped into the room. The half-light that filtered in through the open door meant she now got a better look at the room she was being held in. It was a roof space. That was why she had heard pigeons above her.
It was a dusty old attic; rubbish had been piled at one end, and her mattress placed at the other. There was an all-pervading musky smell that told of damp and decay.
Staring at the figure who had walked into the attic room, she was horrified to see he was wearing a hood that covered the top half of his face. Through eyeholes that had been cut out, she could see small piggy eyes. Only his mouth was visible below the mask. She could clearly see his thick, glutinous lips, which looked wet and sticky.
She tried to back up on the mattress, but the figure approached her, getting closer and closer.
Finally, he knelt beside her on the mattress. For the first time, she saw that he was carrying a plastic bowl and a large bottle of water.
He held out the bowl and grunted the word, ‘Toilet.’ He then held up the water bottle and mumbled, ‘Water.’
He placed both items on the floor next to the mattress. He was about to stand up when the girl found the courage to speak. She said quietly, ‘Where am I?’
The figure grabbed a handful of the girl’s long blonde hair, pulled her face close to his, and said menacingly, ‘You’re with me, darling. That’s where you are.’
He drew his moist tongue along her cheek, licking her alabaster skin once. As he did so, he placed one of his fat, sweaty hands on her bare leg. She instinctively drew her legs up to her chest, so his hand fell away. He pushed her backwards onto the mattress, stood up and said quietly, ‘You’re mine now. You’ll do what I tell you, when I tell you to do it. Don’t piss me off by resisting me. If you want food to eat and water to drink, you’ll do exactly what I say. Do you understand me?’
The terrified girl nodded and said, ‘Please don’t hurt me. I’m only fourteen.’
‘I know exactly how old you are, and I don’t care. Do what I tell you, and I won’t hurt you. It’s your choice. One more thing. There’s to be no more shouting. No one can hear you. Understand?’
The terrified girl nodded.
The man stepped back through the door and closed it behind him. As the door slammed shut, it plunged the attic back into darkness.
As she listened to the sound of a padlock closing on the other side of the door, the girl shivered with fear and sobbed.
12
9.00pm, 3 October 1986
Mansfield, Nottinghamshire
Danny and Sue Flint were watching an old black-and-white film on the television. They were snuggling together on one of the large sofas in the living room of their four-bedroom detached house.
Danny held a half-full whiskey tumbler in his right hand. He was repeatedly swirling the ice around the glass.
Sue reached over and gripped the glass, stopping the annoying, repetitive movement. She looked at Danny and said, ‘Come on, spill the beans. You’ve got something on your mind, and it’s definitely not Gregory Peck and this movie. What’s going on?’
Danny placed the tumbler on the coffee table and said, ‘I’m sorry, sweetheart.’
‘Don’t apologise; just tell me what’s on your mind.’
‘The new chief constable will be announced tomorrow. I think it’s going to be Jack Renshaw who gets the job.’
‘The deputy chief who transferred in from Devon?’
‘Yeah.’
‘You’ve always said he was a good man. So what’s the problem?’
Danny looked at his beautiful wife and placed a hand on her ever-growing bump. Sue was now five months pregnant and was starting to bloom, like most expectant mothers in their second trimester.
He said, ‘I don’t know if it will be a problem, but one thing’s for sure, one way or another, it will mean change. The promotion to superintendent I was promised may not happen now.’
‘If it doesn’t happen now, I’m sure it will one day in the not-too-distant future.’
‘Maybe so. I have to admit that part of me was looking forward to being able to spend more time at home when the little one arrives.’
‘Time off would have been lovely, but I think it’s more important that you’re happy every day. Look me in the eye and tell me you would have been happy sitting behind a desk at headquarters every day.’
Danny smiled again. ‘Sometimes, I think you should’ve been the detective in this house, Mrs Flint.’
‘I don’t know about that, but I know my husband. You’re never happier than when you’ve got a difficult case to work on. I just think that you would miss that everyday interaction too much. That may not be the case forever, and one day, you may be ready to take a back seat. That’s not how I see things currently.’
‘There’s an element of truth in what you say. I can’t say I was relishing the move to headquarters. I think the politics of the place alone might drive me mad. I do think it would be too quiet for me at the moment, however hard Bill tried to sell that to me as a positive. There’s something else I haven’t mentioned to you. I think Bill Wainwright’s going to hand in his resignation sooner rather than later.’
‘Now that does surprise me. I thought Bill loved his job. Why now?’
‘I think it’s a combination of things. He’s never really been the same since he lost his wife, and now, being there when Miles Galton died really shook him up. Don’t forget, the chief was a few years younger than Bill. I think he just wants to enjoy his retirement and not keel over at his desk.’
‘Well, I can’t say I blame him for that.’
‘The thing is, sweetheart, if Bill does retire, there would need to be a new head of CID appointed, as well as a new chief constable. I’ve always had a brilliant working relationship with Bill. That may not be the case with somebody new.’
‘That’s true, but the chief was always very pro MCIU. You told me it was his idea to set it up after the Jimmy Wade enquiry.’
‘The MCIU was very much Miles Galton’s idea. He’s gone now, and if Bill goes too, I really don’t know what will happen to the MCIU.’
Sue snuggled in a little closer. ‘Let’s just wait and see what tomorrow brings, shall we? It’s no good worrying about something you have no control over.’
