Finding Milly

by Nathan Burrows

  ‘Joe, there’s someone at the door, mate. It might be the Old Bill,’ Jimmy said.

  ‘Are you in trouble, mate?’

  ‘Not me, no,’ Jimmy replied. ‘Do you know anyone who can help with the box? Sorry, but I’ve got to go.’

  ‘Leave it with me,’ he heard Joe say. ‘I’ll get someone to call you.’

  Jimmy hung up the phone and walked into the hallway just as the front doorbell sounded again. He looked at the frosted glass in the front door, and his heart soared when he saw a very familiar silhouette through the glass. Not wondering why his daughter was ringing the doorbell instead of using her keys, Jimmy almost broke into a run down the short hallway as he made his way to the door to let Milly inside.

  Chapter 10

  Jimmy unlocked the door with a broad smile on his face. But as the door swung open, to his dismay he realised it wasn’t Milly, but a young woman Jimmy had never seen before. Behind the woman and standing to one side looking up at the house was the Detective Superintendent he’d spoken to earlier at the police station.

  His female colleague was about Milly’s age, with blonde hair cut in an unassuming bob. She was dressed in a navy blue trouser suit. Jimmy didn’t know much about police uniforms, but the trouser suit looked about as close to one as it was possible to get without actually having epaulettes and stuff like that. She was holding up a warrant card in her hand.

  ‘Routine visit, Mr Tucker,’ the woman said, and Jimmy wasn’t sure whether to be pleased or dismayed. ‘Can we come in?’ Jimmy took a step back to let them both into his house. She brushed her feet a couple of times on the mat just inside the front door, as did Malcolm.

  ‘Can I get you both a cup of tea?’ Jimmy asked, not sure what else to say. Apart from when they’d come to take him to the hospital the night Hannah died, the police had never been to his house before.

  ‘That’d be nice,’ the policewoman said in a quiet voice. ‘Yes, please. Milk, no sugar for me.’

  ‘Thanks, Mr Tucker,’ Malcolm added. ‘White with two sugars, please.’

  Jimmy walked into the kitchen and flicked the kettle on, busying himself with getting some extra mugs out of the cupboard. When he realised that Malcolm had followed him into the kitchen, Jimmy jumped.

  ‘Sorry, Mr Tucker,’ Malcolm said. ‘I didn’t mean to startle you.’

  ‘No worries,’ Jimmy replied. ‘And please, it’s Jimmy.’

  ‘I take it you’ve not heard anything from your daughter?’

  ‘No, nothing. I’d have let you know. I am surprised to see you, though.’

  ‘Why would that be?’ Malcolm asked. It could have been an uncomfortable question, seeing as it was from a copper, but Jimmy was sure from the expression on Malcom’s face that it was a genuine question.

  ‘Well, you said you were a bit senior to be investigating a missing person.’

  ‘I’m still a policeman, Jimmy.’

  ‘A Detective Superintendent though? For a missing girl who, as your colleague back at the station was so quick to tell me, is not at risk.’

  ‘I said I’d help, Jimmy,’ Malcolm replied. ‘And I’m nothing if not a man of my word.’

  They stood in silence waiting for the kettle to boil, and Jimmy started to feel uncomfortable at the lack of conversation. The problem was he couldn’t think of anything to say. It wasn’t as though he could talk about the weather, was it? While he waited for the familiar click of the kettle, he wished he’d not said anything about being ill to the police. Not because it wasn’t true, but because he’d wanted Milly to be the first one to know.

  Jimmy was relieved when the kettle finally boiled, and he could park his thoughts while he made the tea. Watched by the still silent Detective Superintendent, Jimmy picked up the mugs and carried them through to the lounge where the policewoman was waiting.

  ‘Sorry, Jimmy,’ Malcolm said as they sat down. ‘I didn’t introduce my colleague. This is Detective Constable Hunter.’ Jimmy shook the young woman’s hand.

  ‘Please, call me Kate,’ she said in a quiet but confident voice.

  ‘Kate will lead with the investigation,’ Malcolm explained. ‘I’ll be supervising, but she’s in charge.’ Jimmy saw the policewoman glance at Malcolm and smile briefly at him as if to say thank you.

  ‘So, Mr Tucker,’ DC Hunter said, her voice suddenly very business-like. ‘Can you tell me the last time you saw your daughter, Milly?’

  ‘Please, it’s Jimmy. Like I told your boss yesterday, it’s only been a couple of days, but it’s really not like her.’

  Half an hour later, Jimmy had told Kate everything that he’d told Malcolm at the police station. To her credit, the policewoman had managed to get one or two more details out of Jimmy that Malcolm hadn’t. Minor details, but ones which might be important, Jimmy supposed. He and Malcolm had discussed the fact that Milly didn’t really have a ‘best friend’ but had quite a few female friends who she spent time with. Kate had gone down a slightly different route, and wanted to know about who Milly’s best friend had been at school, and who amongst her friends she’d turned to when her mother had died. The policewoman had explained that finding this friend could be important. If Milly was having problems—not that Kate was suggesting she was— but if she was, then Milly could have turned to a friend who’d supported her in the past.

  ‘Okay, Jimmy,’ Kate said, putting her notebook away in her pocket. ‘Thanks for that. Really useful. Could we perhaps have a look in Milly’s bedroom?’

  ‘Sure,’ Jimmy replied, getting to his feet. ‘I’ll take you up there.’

  ‘Are you coming up, sir?’ Kate said, and it took Jimmy a second to realise that she was talking to Malcolm, not him.

  ‘I’ll wait here if that’s okay with you, Jimmy?’

  ‘Fill your boots. Do you want another cuppa?’

  ‘I can sort myself out, don’t worry,’ Malcolm replied with a smile. Jimmy hesitated for a second, before realising that there was no reason he couldn’t leave Malcolm on his own downstairs. There was nothing to hide.

  ‘So, if I can just check before I go in, you’re happy for me to look through Milly’s things?’ Kate was standing at Milly’s bedroom door, looking expectantly at Jimmy.

  ‘Of course I am,’ Jimmy replied, trying to keep the annoyance out of his voice. That was why they were here, wasn’t it?’

  ‘Sorry to have to ask,’ Kate said, picking up on Jimmy’s irritation. ‘But I do need to check.’

  ‘No, I’m sorry,’ Jimmy apologised. ‘I’m just a bit uptight, that’s all. What with everything that’s going on.’ The policewoman looked at him with a curious expression, and Jimmy wondered if she knew about him being sick.

  ‘I’m sure Milly’s fine,’ Kate said, but Jimmy didn’t believe she really thought that. He paused, wondering if she would follow it up with anything else. When she didn't, he held his hand out towards Milly’s bedroom.

  ‘Please, after you,’ he said, and then watched with surprise as she slipped her hand into a pocket and pulled out a pair of purple vinyl gloves.

  ‘It’s just protocol,’ Kate said as she slipped them onto her hands.

  Jimmy watched the young policewoman as she made her way methodically around Milly’s room in a clockwise direction. Kate was so thorough that Jimmy started to get nervous when she got to the drawer that he’d forced open, but she didn’t pay any attention to the broken lock at all. Kate flicked through the paperwork that he’d left in the drawer before straightening it up and putting the phone bills on top of the chest of drawers.

  ‘Mobile phone bills,’ Kate muttered, biting her lip for a second. ‘It might be useful if we take these with us?’ she asked, not looking at Jimmy as she did so. It came across as more of a statement than a question, not that Jimmy was bothered either way. ‘We can look at the activity, you see.’

  ‘I gave her number to Malcolm, back at the station. Is it Malcolm? Is that what I’m supposed to call him? Or is it Mr Griffiths?’

  ‘You can cal
l him what you like,’ Kate replied, a brief smile creeping across her face. ‘Within reason. I just call him sir. It’s not just her number though, it’s other numbers on the bills that we’re interested in.’

  ‘Does the phone company not just hand that stuff over?’

  ‘I wish they did,’ Kate replied, her smile fading. ‘It would make our lives a lot easier, not having to get warrants.’

  ‘I’ve tried phoning, tried texting. Not had a thing back, which isn’t like Milly at all. She knows I worry about her.’ Jimmy paused for a second, not sure how much this young woman knew about his family. ‘After what happened to her mother,’ he continued.

  ‘Yes,’ Kate replied in a soft voice. ‘The boss told me how your wife died. I’m really sorry. It must have been awful.’

  ‘It still is,’ Jimmy said, a note of finality in his voice. ‘Did your boss tell you anything else? Anything about me?’

  ‘Yes, he did,’ Kate nodded, her eyes downcast. ‘That’s one of the reasons he’s here. He knows how important it is for you to find Milly quickly.’

  The young policewoman turned her attention to Milly’s wardrobe. When she opened it and saw the various dresses lined up, Jimmy saw her eyes widen. Kate pulled out one of the dresses and examined the label carefully, whistling quietly as she did so. Placing the dress back in the cupboard, she pulled out another one. It wasn’t one that Jimmy had ever seen Milly wearing. The dress was black, made of a fine satin material, and not very substantial.

  ‘She’s an eight,’ Jimmy offered.

  ‘Sorry?’ Kate looked up from the dress.

  ‘Milly. She’s a size eight,’ he said. ‘I don’t know about other measurements like, er, bust size and that. But she’s a size eight, and she’s got size four feet.

  ‘Okay, thanks,’ the policewoman replied. ‘That’s really useful.’ Kate put the small black dress away and turned her attention to an ugly pair of leather boots on the bottom of the wardrobe. ‘She’s got quite the taste in clothes, your daughter.’

  ‘I bought her some slippers last Christmas, see. And matching pyjamas. That’s how I know. I had to look in her wardrobe to find out what size to get her. Then I went to Marks and Spencer and spoke to the woman in there to make sure I got her nice ones.’

  ‘That was a thoughtful present,’ Kate said. ‘I bet she was chuffed to bits.’

  ‘She was.’ Jimmy started to laugh, but as soon as it had begun, the laughter turned into a sob. ‘They had tiny penguins on them. She used to love penguins when she was little.’ Jimmy didn’t want to cry, not in front of this young woman. It didn’t seem very fair on her. ‘Right then,’ he said, forcing the lump in his throat back down. ‘Cup of tea?’

  ’So, DC Hunter,’ Malcolm said from his position on Jimmy’s lounge sofa, a fresh mug of tea balanced on his knee. ‘What’s your assessment?’

  ‘Erm,’ Kate replied with a sidelong glance at Jimmy who was sitting opposite them. ‘Well, there’s a few bits that I think we can work with to find Milly.’ Malcolm nodded at her, encouraging her to continue. ‘But at the same time, there’s not a massive amount to go on.’

  ‘Lines of enquiry?’ Malcolm asked, all business.

  ‘Phone logs, obviously,’ Kate replied. ‘We’ve got a few months’ worth to look at.’

  ‘Excellent, what else?’

  ‘Well, not a massive amount to be honest. On the face of it, the misper is absent. There're no flags at all, so according to our risk table, she’s low risk in terms of harm.’ Jimmy frowned, not understanding what the young policewoman was saying. He looked at Malcolm, about to ask him for some help in interpreting what Kate had just said, and saw that he was frowning as well.

  ‘But?’ Malcolm asked. Kate shuffled in her seat and flicked through her notes before continuing.

  ‘But, the fact that this is so out of character is itself a flag. She, er, Milly, doesn’t have a history of disappearing, there’s no evidence of substance abuse issues, home life appears stable, and there’s no obvious reason for her to vanish.’ Kate took a deep breath and glanced again at Jimmy. ‘So from that perspective, we need to investigate this as a medium or even high-risk case.’

  ‘Very good,’ Malcolm answered with a grim smile. ‘Next steps?’

  Jimmy listened as the policewoman reeled off a series of acronyms to chase up, and agencies to involve. He didn’t really have a chance of understanding what the two coppers were talking about, so he just let the words wash over his head. Whatever it was they were discussing, hopefully it was a plan to find his daughter.

  Malcolm finished the conversation with a series of instructions for the policewoman which Kate dutifully wrote in her notebook. When he had finished, and Kate had put her notebook away, Malcolm asked her to wait in the car for him. Without a word, she smiled at Jimmy and left his lounge. Malcolm waited until Jimmy heard the front door closing before turning to him.

  ‘She might be wet behind the ears, Jimmy,’ he said, ‘but she’s very good.’

  ‘So, what happens next?’ Jimmy asked. ‘I didn’t understand half of what you were talking about just now.’

  ‘Sorry,’ Malcolm replied. ‘Basically, when Kate gets back to the station, she’ll start the ball rolling in terms of the investigation. It might go quiet for a bit on our side, but that doesn’t mean that nothing’s happening.’

  ‘Okay, thanks,’ Jimmy replied. ‘What should I do in the meantime? It’s not as if I’ve got time on my side, is it?’ Malcolm looked nonplussed at the question, and Jimmy felt bad for asking it. ‘Sorry,’ Jimmy said. ‘That didn’t come out right.’

  ‘If I’m honest, I would do whatever you can,’ Malcolm replied. ‘Within the law, obviously. We’re limited in terms of resources, at least in the initial stages of the investigation.’

  ‘How'd you mean, initial stages?’

  ‘Well, the longer Milly’s missing for, the more manpower we can put into the case.’ Jimmy thought for a few seconds, processing what the policeman had just said. ‘So if there’s anything you can do in the meantime to find her, well, it would be useful.’

  ‘I’m on my own, is that what you’re telling me?’ Jimmy asked.

  ‘If I answer that as a policeman, then the reply is no, you’re not.’ Malcolm paused, looking over at the fish tank for a few seconds. ‘But if Milly was my daughter, I would do whatever I could to find her.’ He fixed Jimmy with a hard stare that pulled no punches. ‘I wouldn’t wait for the police to find her for me.’

  Chapter 11

  Jimmy woke with a start, pushing the sweat-soaked duvet off his legs. Something had woken him up, of that he was sure. He lay on his side of the bed, listening for anything out of the ordinary. There was no light coming through the curtains in his bedroom, he didn’t need a pee, and he was wide awake in an instant. Which meant that something had woken him up, as opposed to him just waking up of his own accord. Even though he’d been getting up early for years, if he knew he didn’t have to be up then he could stay in bed until mid-morning.

  A few seconds later, his phone vibrated on his bedside table. Two short vibrations that moved the phone a centimetre or two across the surface. Jimmy scrabbled to grab it, fumbling as he tried to stab the button to turn the screen on. When it lit up, the first thing he saw was the time—just after seven in the morning—and the second was an incoming text message from Robbie, his crew mate on the lorries.

  Hey, old timer. You coming in today or what? Jimmy had forgotten to tell him he wouldn’t be in that day. He’d phoned his boss last night after the police had left and explained that he would be off sick for a while. No, he didn’t know how long it would be for. No, he wasn’t going to tell his boss why. Yes, he could get a note from the doctor. When he’d ended the call, Jimmy felt like a schoolboy all over again.

  He sighed as he tapped out a reply to Robbie, resisting the urge as he did so to have a go at his friend for texting him at the crack of sparrows.

  No mate, I’m sick. Going to be off for a while. I told
The Man yesterday. Sorry, should have let you know.

  ‘The Man’ was their crew’s derogatory nickname for the current manager of their round, a prickly fast-track graduate who didn’t hide the fact that he hated his current placement with the refuse collection teams. They returned the favour by making it clear that they disliked him as much as he did them, but that didn’t change the fact that the stuck up tosser was still their boss for the next few months.

  Everything okay, fella? Robbie replied. Everything, Jimmy thought, was a long way from okay, but he didn’t want to tell Robbie that via a text message.

  All good, Jimmy answered instead. The boys in yet?

  What do you think? Marmite will think you’re on the scrounge off the social when I tell him you’re sick, though.

  Robbie’s reply raised a smile from Jimmy as he put his phone back on his bedside table. He pulled the duvet back over his legs, wincing as the cold, damp material hit his skin. Why had he woken up drenched in sweat with the heating off in the middle of November? Was it the aneurysm, deep within his head, perhaps? Jimmy had no idea, but made a mental note to ask them at the hospital if night-sweats were normal or not. He closed his eyes, willing his brain to go back to sleep, but within a minute he knew that wasn’t going to happen. Muttering under his breath, Jimmy swept the duvet back off his legs and padded into the kitchen to make a cup of tea.

  A few moments later, he was sitting in bed, propped up against a pillow with a cup of tea in one hand and his iPad in the other. On the small television in the room's corner, the news played away to itself, Jimmy paying no attention to the two politicians on the screen involved in a furious argument about something or other. Jimmy smiled to himself as he folded back the case of his iPad, wondering how many people in the country were watching the two pompous arseholes on the telly at that time in the morning.