The Sixth Window

by Rachel Abbott

  ‘We had a row, that’s all. I found him searching through Bernie’s stuff when he thought I was out.’

  There was a momentary silence at the other end of the phone, followed by one word: ‘What?’

  ‘I know. I was shocked too.’

  ‘No, I meant what – as in, you left him because of that?’

  Natalie felt slightly ridiculous but couldn’t think of anything more to say. ‘There was other stuff too, but it’s all a bit personal.’

  ‘Look Nat, I feel for you. Losing Bernie must have been hell, and I can only imagine the hole he’s left in your life. God knows the hole in my own life is big enough, so I genuinely can’t think how you must feel. But if you really are splitting up with Ed, I hope you’ve got a better reason than that. Ed plays his cards close to his chest – you know that. But he let you in, and I told him it was a hell of a risk.’

  ‘Did you?’ Natalie asked, genuinely surprised.

  ‘It was no criticism of you – I want you both to be happy – but don’t expect him to be Bernie.’

  ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

  ‘Think about it. That’s all I ask.’

  Natalie had ended the call soon after that, saying she had to go because Scarlett was calling her. She had lain in bed trying to work out what Megan meant about expecting Ed to be Bernie, and guessed she was alluding to the fact that Bernie was happy-go-lucky whereas Ed was more serious. But there had been another side to Bernie too. Some of the cases he worked on had really got to him.

  Thoughts of her husband and the events of the past forty-eight hours stirred up a memory of an evening a year or so before Bernie died. He had been working on a sex trafficking case that had become a national scandal, and one evening when they’d had their closest friends round for dinner he had been unusually quiet. Someone – Ed, probably – had asked him what was the matter. Nobody ever expected Bernie to be anything other than the life and soul, but that night he had spoken seriously about how the case was affecting him.

  ‘It sickens me. Do any of you have any idea how much money people are making out of young kids these days? Not just the obvious stuff, like child prostitution, hideous as that is, but there are places on the Internet where you can buy all kinds of dodgy images of kids. It’s a three-billion-dollar business now, and growing.’

  Natalie shivered, thinking of what she had seen on Ed’s computer that morning. Did he pick up on what Bernie had said? Was it that conversation that had piqued his interest? She didn’t know, but wondering about it, remembering Bernie and going over and over the last two days in her mind, kept Natalie awake long into the night.

  Eventually she dropped off to sleep at about 3am, and when she woke she was horrified to find that it was after nine. Fortunately she had taken another day off work, thinking that she and Scarlett could spend the day together.

  Natalie pushed the covers back and got out of bed slowly, her back aching from the hard mattress.

  ‘Scarlett, I’m so sorry, love. I overslept,’ she said as she opened the door to the sitting room. Her words were met with silence. She glanced at the bathroom door, standing open, the room beyond empty. As was the sofa.

  All that remained in the room was a pile of discarded bedding.

  Scarlett had gone.

  10

  Becky felt that Tom had been giving her an easy ride since she had come back to work. He had briefed her and Keith about the hit-and-run involving a policeman in north Manchester, but her role was purely to keep a watching brief over Keith to make sure he was on the right track. Unless, of course, it wasn’t the open-and-shut case they were hoping for, which would mean she might have to become more involved. Other than that, she had spent her time reading up on the cases Tom’s team were working on.

  She still hadn’t fixed up an evening drink with him and was nervous about mentioning it again. But it had to be done. The first chance she had, she was going to push it.

  At that moment she looked up from her desk and saw the man himself walking towards her.

  ‘Got a minute, Becky?’

  Relieved to be plucked away from the tedium of looking through files for cases that she wasn’t actually involved in, Becky stood up and followed him to his office.

  ‘Have a seat,’ he said as he pulled up his chair on the other side of the desk.

  ‘What’s up?’ Becky asked.

  ‘Nothing, as far as I know. I wanted to check how you’re feeling after a couple of days back. How are your energy levels? It must be a huge change from sitting around at home.’

  ‘I didn’t just sit around. As soon as I got the go-ahead I started going to the gym to build my strength up again. I’m fine. I wouldn’t have been cleared for duty if I wasn’t.’ There was no escaping the note of indignation in her voice.

  Tom grinned at her. ‘Still spiky, then?’ He leaned back in his chair. ‘Okay, you feel fine. But I’m trusting you to tell me the minute you are not fine. Do we have a deal?’

  ‘Yes, of course. Anyway, Mark will be on the phone to you the minute I moan about being tired, don’t you worry.’

  ‘Still looking after you, is he? Good for him.’

  ‘Well it’s extremely irritating to be fussed over, if you must know. Speaking of my love life, though, what about yours?’ Becky asked, knowing she was pushing her luck.

  ‘Mind your own bloody business,’ he said mildly. ‘We’ve had this conversation before. It’s okay for me to ask you, but not okay for you to ask me.’

  Becky tutted. Why did he have to be such a closed book? It seemed she was just going to have to go by instinct. She was certain he had nobody right now. If ever there was time to take a risk, this was it.

  ‘Do you remember we talked about getting together for a drink one night?’

  Tom nodded, a slight look of bafflement on his face. ‘We did, but you didn’t tell me what you wanted to talk to me about.’

  ‘No, I didn’t, did I?’ Becky could feel herself blushing, but she wasn’t going to be drawn. ‘Would tonight be okay?’

  Tom raised his eyebrows. ‘Urgent, is it?’

  ‘Not particularly, but I’d prefer it to be sooner rather than later. Is that okay?’

  Before Tom could answer, his phone rang. Without taking his puzzled eyes off her, he picked it up.

  She listened to Tom’s end of the brief conversation but wasn’t able to glean much from the odd word that he spoke. Then he hung up, closed his eyes and shook his head.

  ‘Get your things. You’re coming with me.’ He spoke quietly.

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘A young girl has apparently jumped from the roof of a block of flats due for demolition. The divisional DI is certain it’s suicide, but he’s secured the scene and thinks we should take a look to be on the safe side. Poor kid.’

  Becky imagined those seconds of tumbling through the air – whatever the cause of the fall – and shivered.

  ‘Are you coming, or do I have to take Keith?’

  Becky pushed her chair back. ‘I’ll get my bag.’

  *

  Tom hadn’t spoken much in the car on the way to the scene. It was only about twenty minutes from the office, but neither of them felt much like talking and Becky had left him to his thoughts.

  The victim was a teenager. That was all they knew. Although the DI who was attending the scene felt sure she had jumped, she was just a kid, and Becky couldn’t decide whether she would prefer her to have jumped or to have been pushed. Which would be worse? She really didn’t know. All she knew was that it shouldn’t have happened and they owed it to this child to discover how and why she had died.

  Becky pulled the car over to the side of the road behind the other emergency vehicles and saw Tom give her a puzzled look.

  ‘Why are you looking at me like that?’ she asked.

  ‘Are you sure you’re okay?’

  She shrugged. She certainly felt okay. ‘Yes. Why?’

  ‘I wasn’t hanging on to my seat, like I usually am
when you’re at the wheel.’

  For a moment Becky thought he was joking. But given the situation that seemed highly unlikely.

  ‘I guess I’m more aware of my own mortality. Don’t worry – it’ll wear off.’ She gave him a half-smile, wishing they’d had this conversation under different circumstances when a little light-hearted banter would have felt more appropriate. But there were other things to think about right now, and the divisional DI was waiting to talk to them.

  *

  Tom didn’t have time to wonder about Becky’s slightly strange mood as he followed her towards the crime scene. He didn’t know the detective inspector assigned to the case, but a tall man in his mid forties with a slightly florid face was walking towards them, chewing gum with his mouth open, and Tom guessed this was their man.

  ‘DCI Tom Douglas, and this is DI Becky Robinson,’ Tom said, shaking the other man’s hand.

  ‘DI Dave Warner, sir. Thanks for coming.’

  As soon as Tom and Becky had put on their protective suits and overshoes the detective led them towards the approach path and Becky gave their names to the crime scene manager. A tent had been erected over the body to protect it from the hot summer sun, which was already beating down.

  Tom looked at the hard ground around the area where the girl had landed and felt acute sympathy for everybody who had seen her. It was a horrible death, and particularly difficult to deal with when the victim was so young.

  ‘Do you want to wait here, Becky?’ Tom said quietly.

  She didn’t look up. ‘No, and stop treating me with kid gloves. I’m fine.’

  Dave Warner lifted the flap of the tent. The girl was lying awkwardly, and it was clear from the obvious break just below her elbow that she had landed on one arm. Blood had pooled on the ground in front of her, as if perhaps a rib had punctured a vital organ, but what struck Tom the most was the age of the girl. She looked so young, so innocent.

  Dave Warner spoke quietly. ‘She was found this morning very early, about six o’clock, by a man whose dog ran off from the track that runs over there.’ He pointed to some shrubby trees through which Tom could see a dirt path about eighty metres away. ‘The dog wouldn’t come back, so the man came to find him. He saw the body and called it in straight away.’

  Tom looked at the ground. There had been a couple of dry weeks, but a brief summer storm during the night had created a thin layer of surface mud. Getting any evidence was going to be difficult because it was clear that the dog had been scrabbling around, and there were footprints, presumably from the man who found her, but no doubt DI Warner would confirm this later.

  ‘Did she have any identification on her?’ Becky asked.

  ‘Nothing at all. Do you want to go up top and see where we think she jumped from?’

  Tom nodded. From the position of the body in relation to the building it looked as if she had just stepped off the edge. If she had taken a run at it her body would have been further away. He gazed up to the roof above. It was an eight-storey building and he estimated the height to be around thirty metres. People had jumped from that height before and survived, albeit with severe injuries, but if it was suicide – and he strongly suspected it was – the girl wouldn’t have thought of that. At her age she probably didn’t know how high she had to go.

  Tom wanted to ask how the hell the girl had been able to get into the building, if it was due for demolition. In a perfect world it would have been well secured, but in this part of Manchester attempts to board up all entrances were probably a waste of effort, and by the look of things it had been derelict for a long time.

  ‘Has the whole building been searched for people living rough?’ Tom asked.

  ‘Yeah, every room. There’s lots of evidence that people have been here, but I guess they all scarpered – either when the girl fell, if they knew about it, or when the man found her. The dog was apparently barking as if his life depended on it, and the guy admits he screamed when he saw her. There are lots of ways out at the back – broken windows and the like – so I really don’t know whether anyone might have seen anything. We’re asking around.’ He shrugged, and Tom knew what he meant. The chances of getting anything sensible were remote.

  DI Warner held out an arm as if inviting Tom to enter his home, and he and Becky made their way towards the board covering the main entrance which, with his other arm, the DI held to one side.

  The smell inside was much as Tom had been expecting, and he glanced at Becky, who was wrinkling her nose in distaste. Whatever she said, she wasn’t as fit as she might be, and he was slightly concerned about the effort of walking up eight storeys, breathing in gulps of this fetid air.

  ‘Why don’t you wait outside, Becky?’ Tom saw DI Warner give him a puzzled look, but he wasn’t about to explain.

  ‘I’m fine,’ Becky said as she headed for the staircase, clearly exasperated.

  Tom was quiet as he made his way up the stairs. How must this child have been feeling as she made her way up here? Hadn’t the smell alone been enough to put her off? She didn’t look much older than his daughter, Lucy, and some parent, who probably felt much as he did about his own child, was going to have their heart ripped to shreds by this.

  But most of all he couldn’t imagine what had happened in this young girl’s life that was so bad she felt she had no choice but to take her own life.

  11

  Natalie slowly replaced the receiver. She was running out of options and couldn’t think where Scarlett might have gone. She had tried all her daughter’s friends, in case she had caught the tram back home, but maybe she was still on her way and hadn’t arrived yet.

  She had to hope that was the case.

  There was one person she hadn’t tried. Ed. What if Scarlett had gone to him? In many ways his house was the most obvious place, but Natalie dreaded the thought of that conversation. After all the things she had said to him the day before, all the horrible accusations, she didn’t feel she had the right to ask for his help. He would come rushing over to offer his support, and if Scarlett came back and he was here in the apartment, it would make things so much more difficult.

  Scarlett’s words from the night before kept tumbling through Natalie’s head. ‘Maybe I’m the one who should have died.’

  She quickly selected a familiar number from her contacts, needing her best friend more than ever.

  ‘Ali, it’s me.’ She took a deep, shuddering breath and wasn’t sure she would be able to say the words. But there was no choice. ‘Scarlett’s missing.’

  Natalie had managed to keep a hold on her emotions when talking to her daughter’s friends and their mothers, but talking to Alison she fell apart.

  ‘What do you mean, missing? Nat, talk to me. How long’s she been gone?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ she sobbed. ‘When I woke up, she wasn’t here. She was so upset, Ali, so hurt. She’s devastated that we’ve moved out of Ed’s, and she thinks it’s her fault that Bernie died. I tried to tell her it wasn’t, but I made such a mess of it.’

  Alison was silent for a moment, and Natalie knew she was thinking. She taught girls of Scarlett’s age every day, and she understood them.

  ‘Has she taken anything with her? Her phone? No, forget I said that. Daft question. Did she take any clothes?’

  ‘No. They were all in the bedroom where I was sleeping. She chose to sleep on the sofa rather than share a bed with me. And before you ask, her phone’s switched off. It went straight to voicemail.’

  ‘What about money?’

  ‘Her purse has gone, but I don’t think she had much in it.’

  ‘Check yours.’

  Natalie grabbed it from the worktop and pulled it open with trembling fingers. Alison was right. She couldn’t remember exactly how much cash she’d had in her purse, but at least forty pounds was missing.

  ‘Have you called Ed?’ Alison asked.

  Natalie admitted she hadn’t. But there was no excuse now. Scarlett was the most important person, and she was
going to have to get over herself and give him a ring.

  ‘Don’t you worry about it, Nat. Leave it with me. I’ll call him and let him know that he has to make Scarlett ring you immediately if she turns up there, but that he should stay at home and not come racing into town – in case she’s on her way to him right now. I’ll call you back.’ Alison rang off.

  Natalie picked up the bedding from the jumbled pile that Scarlett had discarded that morning and absent-mindedly began folding it. There was an immense weight crushing her chest, threatening to choke her. Where was Scarlett?

  The phone rang.

  She dived for the coffee table to pick it up. ‘Hello,’ she said, her voice breathless.

  ‘Hi, Nat. I’ve spoken to Ed. He’s not seen Scarlett. He tried phoning her while I hung on, thinking that maybe she would take his call, even if she wouldn’t return yours. But the phone went to voicemail. He’s going to keep trying. I told him you might not want him to do that, but he said it was none of my bloody business and all he was concerned about was Scarlett.’

  ‘Oh God, that’s all I need – Ed being spiky with you. Right now, though, the only thing that matters is Scarlett. Where the hell is she, Ali?’

  ‘I don’t know, and please don’t worry about me and Ed. We’ll be fine. Not that it matters now you’re not together any more.’

  In spite of her concern about Scarlett, Natalie felt a stab of pain at what she had lost, but Alison’s next words put all thoughts of anything but her daughter from her mind.

  ‘Ed thinks you should call the police, and I suspect he’s right. If Scarlett was so upset and she’s got some money with her, there’s no saying where she might have gone. You need to register the fact that she’s missing, because she may have been gone since you went to bed, hours ago. At least if there’s been an accident or anything, the police would have her details and know how to find you. Ed told me the best number to call. I’ll text it to you.’

  Natalie lowered herself onto the sofa, lifted her knees and wrapped her arms around them, pulling them close to her chest, trying to hold herself together.