Gone Astray

by Michelle Davies

Mack was furious. ‘For fuck’s sake. So we just wait until he panics a bit more then starts chopping our daughter up?’

  ‘Don’t,’ wailed Lesley, ‘don’t say that.’

  ‘No, Mr Kinnock, we find him first,’ said Umpire emphatically. ‘Now, is there anything about his voice that rings a bell? Anything at all?’

  ‘What’s the point? It sounded like he was trying to disguise it,’ said Mack. He flopped back down on the sofa like a sullen teenager.

  ‘Not at the very end he’s not. Listen again.’ Umpire replayed the recording. ‘See? Whatever was covering his mouth must’ve slipped. Does he sound familiar?’

  Lesley and Mack both shook their heads.

  ‘I’m having the tape analysed for background noise, to see if there are any clues as to where the call was made. Once we’ve done that, I might consider releasing part of the tape to the press in the hope a member of the public recognizes his voice.’

  ‘Can’t you just trace the number?’ said Lesley.

  ‘It was a pay-as-you-go phone with an unregistered SIM card. It’s impossible to trace.’

  ‘It doesn’t feel like we’re getting anywhere,’ she fretted. ‘Just give him the money so we can get our little girl back.’ She turned to Mack, who had tears in his eyes. ‘I’m so sorry, this is all my fault. I wish I’d never bought that bloody ticket.’

  Maggie had a sudden blinding flash of inspiration.

  ‘Actually, do you remember when you bought it?’ she asked excitedly.

  ‘It was a year ago,’ said Lesley.

  ‘I know that, but is there anything you can remember about actually buying the ticket?’

  ‘Only that I was in a rush. It was a Friday morning and I was late for work. But I needed petrol so I stopped at the first petrol station on my route, the Texaco garage on Middle Lane. I filled up, and then I went inside to pay. Like I told you yesterday, I wasn’t planning to buy a EuroMillions ticket but I saw a couple of other people holding the slips you have to fill in so I changed my mind at the last minute.’

  ‘There was a queue in the garage?’ said Umpire.

  Maggie beamed at him. He’d worked out where she was going with her questions.

  ‘I guess there must have been four or five people ahead of me. I remember thinking it was going to make me even later, but one man let me go ahead of him.’

  ‘Do you remember anything about him?’ said Belmar, who’d also cottoned on.

  Lesley shook her head. ‘I wasn’t paying attention.’

  Maggie could barely contain herself. ‘Sir, do you think we should check the CCTV footage from that day?’

  The tiredness had vanished from Umpire’s face.

  ‘Yes, we should. Well done, DC Neville.’

  ‘I don’t understand,’ said Lesley helplessly. ‘Why do you need to see me buying the ticket?’

  ‘The crayon writer seems to think you stole the money from under his nose,’ said Umpire. ‘What DC Neville is suggesting is that he might have actually been there when you bought it. We need the CCTV from that moment to see who else was in the queue with you.’

  Lesley gasped. ‘Oh my God. You mean . . .’

  Mack jumped up. He, too, looked more invigorated than he’d done in days.

  ‘Hang on, there’s no need to get the CCTV. The Mansell Echo already published a picture of Lesley in the queue. The garage gave it to them.’

  He whipped out his BlackBerry Passport and called up a story on the newspaper’s website headlined, LUCKY MUM’S £15-MILLION MOMENT! Accompanying the report was a grainy image of Lesley waiting to pay inside the garage. The image was taken from above and Lesley was partially side on to the camera, as was everyone else in the queue, including three men behind her. Maggie shivered. Was one of them the crayon writer?

  ‘Fantastic,’ said Umpire, giving the phone back to Mack. ‘We can start trying to trace everyone who was in the garage that day.’

  ‘Let me have a look at that,’ said Lesley, taking the handset from her husband. She lifted it up to her face so the screen was almost touching her nose. She peered at the screen closely for a few moments then lowered the BlackBerry into her lap. Then she raised the handset to study the screen again, her face flushed.

  ‘What is it?’ asked Maggie.

  ‘This man, the one standing right behind me in the tracksuit bottoms, I’m sure I’ve seen him before.’

  Maggie held her breath and she imagined Umpire, Belmar and Mack were doing the same. Then, to her dismay, Lesley burst into tears.

  ‘I know I’ve seen him, I just can’t remember where.’

  36

  Mack demanded that he and Lesley be left alone for a while. Despite the potential breakthrough with the CCTV image, he was still shell-shocked after listening to the incident room recording, as was his wife.

  Maggie and Belmar trailed Umpire into the entrance hall. To her astonishment, once the lounge door was shut to cut them off from the Kinnocks, he turned round and gave her arm a quick squeeze.

  ‘That was inspired, Maggie, well done.’

  She was lost for words. Then Belmar caught her eye and winked, embarrassing her even more. She glared back at him. The rumours that she and the DCI had had an affair would never peter out if Belmar spread it around that Umpire was being affectionate towards her.

  ‘If Lesley can remember where she’s seen the man behind her in the queue, even better,’ Umpire added, seemingly oblivious to the looks Maggie and Belmar were shooting each other.

  ‘I just hope it’s not her mind playing tricks on her,’ said Maggie, recovering her composure. ‘She could be convincing herself there’s something familiar about him because she’s desperate to do something constructive.’

  ‘Even if that proves to be the case, tracking down those customers might still give us a breakthrough. If none of them are the crayon writer it could be someone they know, a partner or a brother, who’s angry on their behalf that they missed out.’

  ‘What would be amazing was if one of them has the initials GS and turns out to be the person Rosie wrote about on her laptop.’

  ‘GS?’ Umpire looked puzzled. Maggie got a horrible sinking feeling.

  ‘Didn’t DC Berry pass on my message last night?’

  ‘He said you’d found some kind of diary in which Rosie mentioned being bullied and that the laptop had gone to HTCU but he didn’t give me specifics,’ said Umpire tightly.

  ‘You’re kidding me?’ she shot back furiously. ‘Steve didn’t fully brief you last night? But I made it clear to him that it could be really important. What if GS is the crayon writer and we’ve just been sitting on the lead for a whole day while poor Rosie’s still bloody missing?’ Maggie flushed red, upset that Steve’s sloppiness reflected badly on her just as she and Umpire were getting on. ‘I am so sorry you’re only hearing about this now, sir.’

  ‘So am I, and I’ll be dealing with DC Berry later,’ said Umpire, looking as furious as she felt. ‘Tell me everything.’

  ‘I found the laptop Rosie emailed Cassie from and she’s also been using it as a diary. She wrote in a series of Word documents about being bullied and about being pestered by someone with the initials GS.’ She gave him a quick outline of what Rosie had said about girls she knew being promiscuous and pressuring her to be the same. ‘On Monday, the day before she went missing, the last thing Rosie wrote was that GS would tell her parents if she didn’t do it – presumably have sex – again.’

  ‘For fuck’s sake, why didn’t I know any of this last night?’ Umpire snapped at her. ‘Right, come with me.’

  ‘Where to, sir?’

  ‘To see Kathryn Stockton again. DC Small, you stay here in case the Kinnocks need anything.’

  He stormed out of the front door and Maggie had to walk fast to keep up. The look on his face told her Steve was going to be in a lot of trouble for not passing on her message and even though he was her friend, deservedly so. She couldn’t believe he hadn’t taken her seriously when she said GS could be a
n important lead. Why hadn’t he passed it on? The delay could make all the difference to them finding Rosie alive.

  ‘Sir, I’ve done some digging of my own about GS. I’ve already asked Kathryn if she knows anyone with those initials and she said no. But I’m not convinced she was being straight with me.’

  ‘So we ask her again,’ said Umpire abruptly. She couldn’t tell if he was angry with her as well as Steve and mentally she kicked herself for not thinking to call him again last night.

  ‘She might have seen GS hanging around the house on Tuesday, sir,’ Maggie suggested, almost breaking into a jog to keep up with him.

  ‘Kathryn wasn’t in the area when Rosie disappeared, though. She was seen leaving the house at ten fifteen a.m. and then we have a witness who saw her on the other side of Haxton fifteen minutes after that.’ He gave her a sideways glance. ‘Yes, I double-checked her alibi.’

  Maggie was disappointed to be proved wrong and scolded herself for letting her personal feelings about Kathryn cloud her judgement. She didn’t like the girl but she knew better than to let it sway her.

  If Sarah Stockton was surprised to find them back on her doorstep she hid it well. As did Kathryn, who’d skipped her GCSE science exam because she was so upset about her friend being missing. Maggie thought about Rosie’s diary entries and bit her lip.

  ‘Will this take long?’ Kathryn asked Umpire.

  ‘That depends on whether you’re going to tell the truth or not.’

  Kathryn blanched and sat down next to her mum on the leather corner sofa in the sitting room.

  ‘Who is GS?’

  Kathryn immediately became flustered.

  ‘I’ve already said, I don’t know.’

  ‘Don’t bullshit me, Kathryn, I’m not in the mood,’ said Umpire, unsmiling. ‘I think you know who it is because Rosie told you about him.’

  ‘I have no idea who you’re talking about.’

  As Kathryn leaned against her mother for support, Maggie was struck by how young and scared she looked now she’d dropped the bravado.

  ‘We have evidence in our possession which suggests Rosie was being harassed by someone she knows as GS and we think you are an acquaintance of his. If GS turns out to be the person responsible for her going missing and you refuse to tell us who it is, you could be in serious trouble for obstructing the investigation.’

  Kathryn burst into tears. ‘I don’t know anyone whose name begins with GS. You can check my phone, my computer, everything. I’m not lying and I haven’t done anything wrong. Mum, tell him!’ She fell into her mother’s arms and sobbed. Sarah turned on Umpire furiously.

  ‘How dare you threaten my daughter like that? She’s just a child.’

  ‘So is Rosie, and she’s been missing for two days. I need to find out who GS is,’ he shot back.

  ‘If I knew, I would tell you,’ wailed Kathryn. ‘But I honestly don’t.’

  Umpire was about to reply but Maggie lightly touched his arm to stop him. ‘Can I ask something?’ she whispered. He nodded.

  ‘Kathryn, have you introduced Rosie to any boys recently who have taken a shine to her? Maybe they told you afterwards that they fancied her?’

  Maggie posed her question in the gentlest voice she could manage, which seemed to calm Kathryn down. The teenager wiped her eyes roughly with the tips of her fingers.

  ‘She met a couple of my friends at Sasha’s birthday party, but neither liked her in that way, if you know what I mean. I don’t mean to sound horrible, but they both preferred Lily.’

  ‘So you haven’t given Rosie’s mobile number to boys you know?’

  ‘Are you for real?’ Kathryn almost laughed. ‘If her dad found out she was texting or chatting to a boy he’d go mad. I wouldn’t want to get her into any more trouble. Her dad’s strict enough as it is.’

  Was she lying again? Before Maggie could decide, Umpire suddenly announced he had no further questions and that he and Maggie were leaving.

  ‘I’m sorry if I upset you,’ he said to Kathryn.

  She tried to look nonchalant as she shrugged but her tear-streaked face showed how upset she was.

  ‘If you suddenly remember who GS is, you must tell us,’ he added.

  ‘I promise you I don’t know who that is,’ said Kathryn with such conviction that Maggie finally believed her.

  They were almost at the door when he turned back.

  ‘Actually, I do have one more question, Kathryn. Do you own a pair of bright green, high-heeled sandals, with an ankle strap? Sort of summery?’

  Kathryn looked like she’d just swallowed something unpleasant.

  ‘No way. I can’t stand green.’

  ‘I think she’s telling the truth,’ said Umpire as they walked back to Angel’s Reach. ‘She doesn’t know who GS is.’

  ‘But it can’t be a coincidence Rosie wrote about someone harassing her and then she goes missing. Maybe GS aren’t his real initials.’

  ‘Did Rosie make any mention of GS asking her for money anywhere in her diary? No? Yet we know the crayon writer is obsessed with the Kinnocks’ win. This GS character, on the other hand, is obsessed with her,’ said Umpire as they reached the Kinnocks’ front gate. ‘I’m not convinced they’re the same person. GS will turn out to be some poor kid who’s got an unrequited crush on Rosie. If it sounds dramatic from the way she writes it, it’s probably because she doesn’t know how to handle the situation.’

  ‘But what about the condom trace on the skirt in the bush? What if GS had something to do with that getting there?’

  ‘There’s been an update on that. Matheson doesn’t think Rosie was wearing the skirt when the blood loss occurred. Apparently, the tests he ran show that the blood soaked into the tulle overlay first and then onto the skirt fabric beneath it, rather than the other way round. He thinks it’s more likely the skirt was used to staunch whatever wound the blood was coming from and that the condom trace was most likely left there another time.’

  ‘I don’t know whether that’s good news or bad,’ said Maggie darkly. ‘It doesn’t change the fact a condom was used at some point.’

  ‘I hate to break it to you, DC Neville, but fifteen-year-old girls do have sex sometimes, underage or not. You seem really intent on holding up Rosie as some kind of paragon of virtue.’

  Maggie stared at him, shocked. ‘Do I?’

  ‘Yes. I didn’t realize you were so conservative. It’s the same every time Suzy Breed’s name crops up,’ he said, looking amused.

  ‘I’m not a prude, sir,’ she blustered.

  ‘I’ll have to take your word for that.’

  Maggie felt herself blush. Keen to steer the conversation away from sex, she suggested GS might be someone Rosie knew from living in Mansell.

  ‘The diary entry implied Kathryn knows him, but what if Rosie introduced him to Kathryn and not the other way round?’ she said.

  Umpire pondered her theory for a second. ‘Okay, call Cassie Perrie, the friend Rosie sent the email to, and see if she knows anyone called GS.’

  ‘Me?’

  ‘Yes, you. I can’t spare anyone else. It’s just a phone call; I’m not asking you to interrogate her. Admin support will give you the number for her mum. Cassie’s only fifteen so you’ll need to go through her first.’

  Maggie was delighted to be trusted with a task that went beyond her remit, however small. It felt like another big step forward in repairing their working relationship.

  ‘I’ll get on to it straight away,’ she said.

  ‘Good.’ He stopped by his car. ‘Right, I need to get back to the station to chase up Suzy Breed’s phone records. Hopefully they’ll tell us what’s going on between her and Mack and whether it has any bearing on Rosie going missing. I seriously doubt it has, especially now we know about the crayon writer, but we can at least put that line of inquiry to bed, so to speak.’

  Maggie caught the humour in his voice and blushed again. She stared down at the gravel driveway, wishing it would swallow her up.


  ‘Keep on at Lesley until she remembers where she’s seen the suspect before and call me the minute she does,’ Umpire went on. Then he stopped abruptly and stared at her. ‘You look tired, Neville. I don’t want DI Gant on my back telling me you’re overloaded, so DC Small should stay with the Kinnocks tonight if they want him to and you can have a break.’

  ‘Sir, I’m fine, really,’ she said, appalled to think she looked otherwise.

  ‘It wasn’t a request, Neville. I’m well aware how draining FL duty can be because DI Gant tells me often enough. But he’s right to worry and I need you rested and ready to deal with what’s ahead.’

  ‘What do you mean, sir?’

  The smile fell from his face and he looked pained. ‘We’re almost at the end of day three and it feels like we’re no closer to finding her. I think we’re in for the long haul.’

  37

  He sang all the way home listening to Absolute Radio. It didn’t matter whether he knew each song as it came on, he still belted out the words at the top of his voice, substituting ‘la-la-la’ for those he didn’t know.

  His headache had finally dissipated and he felt invincible. He swept back along the M40 to Mansell as though he owned it and ignored the motorists who sounded their horns at him for cutting them up. Let them beep. Soon he’d own a car they’d all wish they could drive, rather than this crappy, second-hand Peugeot that wasn’t even his.

  His conversation with the police officer in the incident room played on a loop in his head. Every time he reached the end he burst into gales of laughter. Surely now they’d sit up and take notice: there was no question in his mind that they wouldn’t bow to his demands.

  The previous evening he had spent hours on the Internet trying to establish the best means for them to send him his money. Dropping it off in a bag like they did in films was quickly dismissed; banknotes could be too easily traced through their serial numbers and the police were bound to stake out the handover. Then he toyed with the idea of getting the Kinnocks to deposit it into an untraceable Austrian bank account called a ‘Sparbuch’, but further digging revealed he would have to involve a third party to set it up and that was out of the question. Other offshore accounts he researched required him to present his passport to set them up – too easily traceable – so the only other feasible option was a prepaid credit card. The Kinnocks would have to get their bank to issue one in a false name provided by him, then arrange a collection or delivery point. It wasn’t ideal – there was a risk they could trace him through his purchases if he wasn’t careful – but he should be able to sell the card on and pocket the balance. There were a couple of websites he found that explained exactly how to do that. And although most pre-paid cards had a load limit of only £5,000, he expected customers as wealthy as the Kinnocks could demand more. He’d come across a Visa card called a T24 Black that could take $50,000.