Snow Kills

by RC Bridgestock

  ‘Well we’ll keep digging – and like you say, if the evidence is there we’ll find it. But it doesn’t look like we’re going to find Kayleigh alive now, does it?’ said Vicky sadly.

  ‘We have to be realistic. She didn’t go missing because she wanted to, by all accounts and it is looking increasingly like somebody has seized an opportunity when she was at her most vulnerable.’

  ‘Happens all too often doesn’t it? Who knows what form predators take? But what sort of moron is out in that sort of weather looking for someone to take advantage of?’

  ‘Looks like somebody was... Normal people get home as quick as they can in weather like that and stay where it’s warm and dry. We have to concentrate on the people we know were out there that night, for whatever reason. Check with forensics and fingerprints when we get back regarding her car. In fact, we’ve heard very little from them so far on this one. That’s another thing, her mobile. I haven’t seen any results from her phone company, have you? We need to go back over the basics and satisfy ourselves we have done all that we can with what information we have.’

  ‘Will do, boss,’ Vicky said as she climbed out of Dylan’s car and into the back yard of the police station. ‘Your Jen and Maisy okay?’ she asked as they walked together towards the CID entrance.

  ‘Yeah, fine why?’

  ‘Oh, nothing, Jen’s phone’s just been off lately when I’ve tried to ring her.’

  ‘That’s odd,’ he said with a puzzled expression crossing his face. ‘Maybe it’s because she’s been busy.’

  ‘Every night?’ she said.

  Dylan shrugged his shoulders as he checked his pigeonhole for his afternoon mail. There were two letters with his name printed on them, one in capital letters. He looked at the postmark, ‘Edinburgh’ it read. Curious, he opened it with his letter opener and let the correspondence drop out of the envelope onto his desk. Picking it up by the corner, very gingerly, he could see someone had taken the time to cut letters from a newspaper.

  I’D RATHER BE DEAD THAN GO TO PRISON

  KEEP LOOKING BEHIND YOU DYLAN

  There was no doubt in Dylan’s mind it was the work of Sergeant Maude. Was he having a breakdown of some kind? He didn’t like the suggestion of suicide.

  Dylan put his phone on speaker as he listened to the ringing tone for Discipline and Complaints.

  ‘Put the letter and envelope into separate exhibit bags,’ said the guy in their admin department. ‘Then send them both on to us.’

  Dylan knew Sergeant Maude was suspended. ‘He told us not to bother preparing a file against him as it would be a waste of our time,’ said the man in D&C.

  ‘What are we doing about it?’ asked Dylan.

  ‘Well, between you, me, and the gatepost, there has been a lot going on in his personal life. He left his wife, his girlfriend abandoned him after he assaulted her and he has other allegations against him for which he is under investigation. We’ve got his car circulated as the usual ‘Occupant may have suicidal tendencies. If seen, contact D& C’, but there is not a lot more we can do. I’ll speak to Edinburgh Police though, now we have a specific location to see if they can help locate him for us.’

  ‘What a sad end to his police career,’ Dylan said, flatly.

  ‘He knew what he was doing, Dylan. Sadly, he has only himself to blame. Better go, the other phone is ringing – but be assured, we are doing everything we can.’

  Dylan sat for moment after he’d put the phone down and reflected on what the guy at D&C had just said. Policing was a bloody hard job, but who really monitored how it affected the Bobbies? No one. Granted, there was the Occupational Health Unit, but a lot saw going there as a weakness – and more importantly, so did the bosses. He was aware of a few Bobbies who had killed themselves over the years and those who had contemplated suicide. They managed to solve other people’s problems, but sadly not their own. It was far from pleasant dealing with a fellow officer who had committed suicide. Dylan didn’t like the thought of a life being wasted when there were millions of people desperately fighting to stay alive. Life was for living, in his book, and Carpe Diem his mantra.

  He opened the second letter – Jen’s ticket for her surprise trip to the Isle of Wight. But was he ready to let her go?

  Chapter 29

  Dylan gave Maisy a hug and chattered away to her as he fastened her into the high chair for breakfast, as Jen busily prepared her Weetabix. Her phone, laid on the kitchen table, bleeped and he picked it up and looked at the screen. Jen raised her head up to meet his eyes that were full of concern for her.

  ‘It’s just a low battery,’ he said as he plugged it into the charger. Jen hurriedly crossed the kitchen, unplugged it and slipped it in her pocket.

  ‘We don’t want disturbing, do we Maisy?’ she said with a forced smile as she sat in front of their daughter. Jen put Maisy’s cereal bowl on the tray attached to her chair. Dylan stood behind her. Laying his hands on her shoulders, he massaged her neck lovingly. She closed her eyes momentarily.

  ‘You okay love? You’re a little jumpy,’ he said, gently bending to kiss her on her cheek.

  ‘I’m fine,’ she said. She put a spoon of cereal to Maisy’s open mouth. ‘Just a bit tired, that’s all,’ she added shrugging his hands away.

  ‘Vicky said your phone has been turned off recently.’

  ‘Did she?’

  Maisy opened her mouth and grinned, which made the food spill down her chin. ‘Come on, don’t mess me around today little monkey,’ Jen said scooping it up expertly with the plastic spoon.

  ‘What’s up love?’ Dylan asked, seeing her pale, pinched face as if for the first time. ‘You’re not yourself,’ he said, sitting down beside her.

  ‘I told you I’m just tired. Let’s talk later, yeah?’ she said, her eyes filling with tears as they found his.

  Dylan put up his hand to silence her. ‘I know and hopefully I can make you feel better. I’ve got a surprise for you that I think will cheer you up no end.’ He smiled a big smile that melted her heart.

  Maisy screeched and thrust both hands into the Weetabix bowl. Before Jen knew it, the cereal, spoon and bowl were flying across the kitchen and crashing onto the floor.

  ‘For God’s sake Maisy, I can’t take my eye off the ball for one second can I?’ Jen yelled. Jumping up, she picked a cloth from the drainer and proceeded to wipe up the mess.

  Maisy screamed a high pitched wail before the tears came. Jack went to comfort her. Jen turned, hands in the air from her crouched position on the floor.

  ‘Not now Jack,’ she yelled. ‘Go. We’ll talk later.’

  ‘But...’

  ‘Just go to work, will you?’ she shouted.

  Dylan knew there was no reasoning with Jen in this mood, so he picked up his jacket and briefcase and walked out without looking back.

  The door slammed. Maisy stopped crying instantly and started to sob instead. Jen turned and slid down the wall to the floor. Sat with her back to the kitchen units, she wept. Stunned by her mother’s tears, Maisy was still.

  ‘Da Da?’ she said when silence came. ‘Hic!’

  Jen looked up at her, smiled through her tears at her daughter and dragged herself off the floor. Taking her out of her high chair, she held Maisy tight and rocked her gently, singing softly until her hiccups went and she fell asleep.

  Dylan threw open the CID office door. There were people talking and laughing.

  ‘You won’t solve crime sat in here,’ he barked as he stormed through the office. Entering his own room, he slammed his office door behind him and sat down, elbows on the desk and head in his hands. A few moments later the door opened slowly and very quietly.

  ‘You okay?’ said John hesitantly.

  Dylan nodded, looking at Jen’s tickets, propped up in front of his computer screen. ‘Detective Sergeant Benjamin, what can I do for you?’ Dylan said, lifting his head, but not turning to face his colleague. John stood and watched him in silence unpack his briefcase. Dylan held a ba
nana and an apple in one hand. He looked at his colleague questioningly.

  ‘I just thought I’d update you before I went out, sir.’

  ‘Take a seat, I won’t be a minute,’ he said, calmer as he placed the fruit in his drawer.

  ‘I’m seeing a Roger Clarke, the head guy at the Council services this morning. He’s worked there for thirty three years. He tells me he sited the first grit bin in that lay-by. Apparently, it’s an overflow storage unit which they fill from purchases made from councils over the border if extra grit is required. This agreement stops unnecessary pre-planned outlay if we have a mild winter.’

  ‘Good, tell him about the skulls and ask him if he could move the rock salt or grit, or whatever he calls it. We need to search the area for other human remains, as soon as possible.’ Dylan was sombre, his mobile beeped. He looked at it.

  I’m sorry. It’s not you it’s me. I love you. Jen x he read. He closed his eyes for a moment and bit his bottom lip. Dylan looked at John and raised his eyebrows.

  ‘Will do boss. Also Odontology have informed me they have the necessary from the first skull for me this morning, so I’ll start visiting the local dentists.’

  Dylan nodded. ‘If we need more staff on it to get it done quickly, let me know.’

  ‘There are only seven dental practices in the immediate area, so I’ll work outwards from the scene. If none of the enquiries prove fruitful, I might have a further twenty or so to visit.’

  ‘Okay, okay, keep me updated,’ Dylan said absent-mindedly. John walked to the door. ‘You sure you’re okay, sir?’

  ‘Fine. Send Vicky, Andy and Ned in, will you?’

  Vicky idly flipped a pen through her fingers as they waited in Dylan’s office, in silence, for Ned.

  ‘So what’s the update on the Kayleigh Harwood enquiry?’ asked Dylan. ‘You got anything for me?’

  Vicky shook her head. Ned entered the office and sat down with a groan. His face looked like a blancmange.

  ‘Anything yet on Regan and Barrowclough’s phone numbers?’ Dylan asked Andy.

  ‘Got Regan’s but Barrowclough’s is flagged on Intel according to the system so I am waiting for supervision to give me the nod when they have assessed the information, boss.’

  ‘For fuck’s sake.’

  Ned flinched. ‘Bit fragile this morning?’ Dylan said, scowling. ‘Late night? Your problem. Don’t let it affect your work, not on my team, or you’ll be on your way. Do I make myself understood, DC Granger?’

  ‘Yes boss, I’m on with it,’ he said getting up from his chair and leaving the office at speed. It was Vicky’s turn to raise her eyebrows to Andy.

  ‘Andy, have we got any more from Marlene at the salon?’

  Andy shook his head.

  ‘What no gossip, nothing?’

  ‘No, I’ll call again this morning,’ he said.

  ‘The bicycle bell? Any news on its age, make?’

  ‘I’ve got an appointment with a bicycle dealer later today. There aren’t any markings on the bell but I thought it worth a shot. He’s been recommended; an old guy, been in the job years, but about as much of an expert as I think I’ll get on this one.’

  ‘Good work. Vicky I want Jackie May back. Have a word with her Inspector, Mark Baggs, today will you? We need more hands to the pumps. Tell them that Chief Superintendent Hugo-Watkins has okayed it.’

  ‘He has?’ she said, her eyes the widest he’d seen them this morning.

  ‘He will. He was supposed to be coming to our briefings to show his support, but he hasn’t. It’s the least he can do for us.’

  ‘I want you or Jackie to keep Mrs Harwood and Kayleigh’s boyfriend updated.’

  ‘Will do boss. I’ve got some good news for you.’

  ‘Good, I could do with it.’

  ‘Fingerprints are running the biscuit wrappers we found in Kayleigh’s car through the metal deposition machine to see if they can come up with any prints for us. They’ve managed to lift Kayleigh’s from the mirror we seized from her bedroom.’

  ‘For God’s sake, are they only just doing that? I thought they’d cleared her car, printed it and found nothing other than her fingerprints there,’ he said through clenched teeth.

  ‘There were Matt’s and her mum’s too, we got their elims.’

  ‘Yeah, course,’ he said, tetchily. ‘So when will we know?’

  ‘Hopefully today. I asked them to let you know A.S.A.P. To be fair, they have been working systematically through items in the car.’

  ‘We need that data back from her mobile.’

  ‘Today boss. Okay, if I get on?’ said Andy.

  Dylan nodded. ‘Tell Lisa to get hold of Perfect and Best will you? I want to know if Longbottom’s told them anything else, on or off the record.’

  ‘Better get you some more caffeine before you burn out this morning, boss,’ said Vicky.

  ‘We’ve got to move this investigation forward. It feels like it’s stagnating,’ Dylan snarled.

  ‘A bit like whatever you last had in this mug on the window sill. Are you growing penicillin?’ she said, screwing up her nose.

  Dylan sat looking at the screen of his mobile phone, contemplating calling Jen, but his office phone rang before he got the chance.

  ‘Now then,’ said a big bright, cheery voice.

  ‘Dawn,’ he said with a sigh and half a smile.

  ‘What you up to?’ she asked.

  ‘Trying to move forward with the missing girl enquiry, although it feels like I’m walking though treacle; you haven’t heard from Jen have you?’

  ‘No, why?’

  ‘I’ve got the tickets...’

  ‘You’re going ahead with the plan then? Look, I’ve been thinking about what you said. You don’t think she might be suffering from post natal depression, do you? Something I learned is that the symptoms don’t always show up directly after birth, like they did with me, but they can come on months after baby’s arrival.’

  ‘I don’t know what’s wrong,’ he said with a sigh. ‘I wish I did.’

  ‘Well, if you think I can help, remember I’ve been there, bought the T-shirt and worn the socks as they say. I was going to ask you if you’d heard any more from Shaun Turner?’

  ‘No. Why should I?’

  ‘Did you know he knew Jen before?’

  ‘Before when?’ Dylan’s brow furrowed.

  ‘Before, when they both lived on the Isle of Wight?’

  ‘No, no I didn’t ...’ he said feeling little shivers of cold down his back. ‘Why didn’t they say?’

  Chapter 30

  Lisa knocked at the door. She could see Dylan sat perfectly still, gazing out of the window.

  The room was overheated, outside was a bleak, brittle and dark day. His mind was blank, his stare fixed. He felt dreadfully alone.

  ‘Come in,’ he called distractedly.

  ‘Lin Perfect on the phone for you, boss,’ she said, popping her head around the door. Dylan looked round at her vacantly. ‘She couldn’t get through, your phone’s off the hook,’ she said pointing to the receiver in his hand.

  ‘Sorry,’ he said with a shake of his head as he replaced it on its cradle.

  ‘Donny Longbottom, for what it’s worth, tells me that he saw someone speaking to Kayleigh as she sat in her car that night, an older guy he guessed, but he couldn’t give me a description,’ said Lin.

  Dylan sighed deeply. ‘So he’s admitting to seeing Kayleigh in her car that night on Manchester Road?’

  ‘Yes, but the bad news is that he isn’t up for making a statement to that effect.’

  ‘Right, thanks anyway.’

  ‘I’m on holiday for the next three weeks, so if you need anything you’ll need to speak to Yvonne, I’ve brought her up to speed with the case.’

  ‘Lucky you,’ he said before putting the phone down.

  Lin Perfect stared at the telephone in her hand. ‘Well, thank you Lin for all your trouble,’ she said out loud.

  Dylan’s min
d was in a spin. Why hadn’t Jen told him she knew Shaun Turner, if she did? The thought moved him to an unexpected emotion. Why didn’t DI Turner tell him he knew her? It didn’t make sense. He couldn’t process the news that Dawn had sprung on him and for once his methodical mind couldn’t work through the thick fog that descended upon him. Could it be true, Shaun Turner and Jen shared a secret? It would explain why she was acting so oddly. Dylan suddenly realised an insecurity and vulnerability he had never experienced since being a teenager. He wasn’t young, he wasn’t naïve but he had for good reason chosen to live the life of a bachelor – until Jen had come along. He knew he shouldn’t dabble in such sentiment.

  He walked up the stairs to the police canteen. He’d pick up a playpen on his way home for Maisy – she was such a handful at the moment. Maybe that would give Jen time for herself. Time to think, reflect, and talk to him.

  ‘Omelette and chips,’ he said.

  ‘Do you always have to be so bloody difficult? Can’t you just have something off the board for once?’ said the usually jolly kitchen assistant.

  Difficult. Is that what he was, difficult? Maybe Jen daren’t tell him she knew Shaun Turner because he was difficult?

  ‘Difficult’s my middle name, didn’t you know?’ he replied, with half a smile. ‘You should know that by now.’

  ‘You’ll have to wait,’ the counter assistant said, mopping her brow with the back of her hand before stuffing the tea towel she was holding back in the string of her apron.

  ‘No problem, I just thought I’d try an omelette, like you’ve advertised on that banner up there.’

  ‘It says, Please Put Used Crockery Here, over yonder, but nobody ever does,’ she said nodding her head in the direction of the condiment section.

  ‘I’ll just sit over there quiet then. Give us a shout when it’s ready.’ Ten minutes later he walked past the counter, dropped his crockery in the elected spot and threw a forced smile at the counter assistant. She grimaced. ‘Lovely omelette,’ he said. He let the door of the canteen swing noisily behind him.