Max made his way over the pedestrian bridge just next to the abandoned pub and turned left. Jimmy slowed down for a second, wondering what the best thing to do was. The stadium was to the right, not the left, but he realised that a lot of fans were also turning left. He realised that was the direction of the pubs in Riverside, so picked up his pace.
When he got to the end of the bridge, Jimmy thought he’d lost Max. He looked frantically for him, eventually seeing his distinctive man-bun about a hundred yards away. Breaking into a trot, Jimmy tried to make up the ground but Max was heading for the entrance door to a block of flats. As he approached, a security light activated, which lit him up like a beacon. The photographer held up a keycard of some sort to the lock and pushed the door open. Jimmy tried to reach the door before it swung shut, but he was about ten seconds too late.
‘Fuck’s sake,’ Jimmy muttered, trying to get his breath. A few months ago, a few weeks even, he would have covered that ground in half the time. ‘What now?’ He resigned himself to at least identifying the block that Max lived in and walked over to the other side of the road before turning and looking up at the apartments.
Each floor had a long walkway that extended the entire length of the building. Jimmy knew that on the opposite side of the block there were individual balconies, each with their own semi-private river view, but this side just had one long balcony allowing access to the front doors. He rubbed his fingers over the lighter in his pocket a couple of times, just as he always did when he was nervous, and regarded the walkways carefully.
Jimmy’s patience was rewarded a few moments later when he saw Max emerge from a lift at the end of the walkway on the third floor. Reaching into his pocket, Jimmy brought out his phone and started the camera app. He didn’t trust himself to remember which door Max was heading for so, as the photographer reached an apartment door and waved his keycard at it, Jimmy raised the camera and snapped a couple of pictures. He swiped at the screen as the apartment door closed to make sure that he’d captured it. He had. Fourth flat from the left on the third floor. He added a note to the picture with the floor number just in case.
So, Jimmy thought, mission accomplished. That had been a lot easier than he’d thought it would be, although Gareth had told him it would be straightforward. He glanced at his watch. Just after six o’clock. Kick off wasn’t until quarter to eight, and Jimmy turned to look at the football stadium. Above the ground, the bright gantry lights were already on. Maybe he could get a ticket to the game? As a normal supporter, not a steward. He was dressed for it, and the painkillers he’d had earlier were still doing the business.
Jimmy was about to make his way to the stadium to see if they had any casual tickets—if not, he could call in a favour with Robbie who he knew would let him in one of the side entrances—when he caught some movement on the third floor of the flats opposite. Jimmy looked up sharply to see that Max’s apartment door had opened.
A woman stepped out of the apartment. Although Jimmy was on the other side of the street, he could see that she was slight, blonde, and in a hurry. She closed the door behind her and half-jogged, half-ran down the walkway and toward the lift at the end. Jimmy made his way as quickly as he could to the door outside the apartments that Max had disappeared through, and by the time the woman opened the door and stepped out into the street, he was standing not far away from her. Just another football fan waiting for the game to start.
The security light outside the door flicked back on, and Jimmy got a good look at the woman. She was wearing a calf-length brown coat which she clutched tightly around her midriff and was wearing a pair of trainers. No socks, thin bare legs as far as Jimmy could tell. The woman glanced briefly at Jimmy as she hurried out of the door, and he tried not to stare at her. She had an angular face, high cheekbones and deep-set eyes. Very attractive. Apart from the tears in her eyes and the fact that one of her cheeks was far redder than the other.
The woman set off in a fast trot towards the football ground. Jimmy waited for a few seconds and then set off after her. He had to hurry to keep up, but she slowed down after a few hundred yards, much to his relief. He wasn’t sure why he was following her, but he did anyway. The look on her face as she’d glanced at him, seeing him but not really seeing him, had got to him. Jimmy’s feelings towards Max had definitely taken a turn for the worse when he’d seen the look on her face.
Keeping a respectful distance behind the woman, Jimmy followed her as she made her way down the road. He thought initially she was heading for the football ground, but at the last minute she veered off and made her way toward a petrol station in the shadow of Carrow Road stadium. As she opened the door to the small shop attached to the petrol station, Jimmy took off his flat cap and unwound the scarf from around his neck before stashing them on top of a cabinet full of newspapers.
When he walked into the shop, the woman was already at the till. Jimmy walked up behind her, as if he was waiting in the queue, hoping that the change in his appearance wouldn’t be noticed. She had two bottles of wine in her hands, which she placed on the counter before saying something to the cashier that Jimmy didn’t catch. The cashier—a grey-haired woman who looked way too old to be working in a petrol station—reached back and grabbed something from the back shelf. When whatever she had grabbed was scanned on the till, Jimmy could see what it was in the small display above the till. Condoms. Two packs. Extra thin. Extra strong.
Max’s companion turned around after paying for her items with shaking hands, and Jimmy finally got a good look at her. The redness on one of her cheeks had dissipated, but was still there, and she looked at him with startled eyes. She was, in Jimmy’s opinion, achingly beautiful. And achingly vulnerable.
‘Sorry, can I get by please?’ the woman said, looking away from Jimmy. He realised that he was blocking the only exit to the shop. Her voice was thin, reedy, and local.
‘Are you okay?’ Jimmy asked, unable to help himself.
‘I’d be a lot better if you got out of my way,’ she replied. ‘Can you move?’
‘Sorry,’ Jimmy replied, standing to one side to let the woman past. She hurried out of the door without looking back.
‘Any fuel?’ the cashier’s voice asked.
‘Sorry?’ Jimmy replied.
‘Have you got any fuel?’
‘Um, no.’ Jimmy scanned the shelf behind the cashier, wondering what he could buy. He saw a tin of lighter fluid behind her. Just next to the condoms. ‘Could I get a bottle of lighter fluid, please?’
With a sigh, the woman reached back and picked a tin of lighter fuel from the shelf.
‘Three ninety-nine, please,’ she said in a bored voice. ‘Do you need a bag?’
Chapter 29
Jimmy stood at the bus stop along with a small group of football fans. As he waited, he listened in to their conversation. Most of it was about how Norwich had been lucky to come away with all three points. A couple of them, despite the win, were still pessimistic about their club’s chances of survival in the Premier League. Jimmy smiled, knowing that the same conversation had been going on for years. He remembered waiting for a bus with his dad fifty years ago and listening to an almost identical conversation then.
He’d been able to get a casual ticket at the last minute and, while it wasn’t where he would normally sit, it wasn’t a bad seat—high at the back of the Jarrold stand. The only problem with it was there was no atmosphere at all in the stand, almost as if the spectators there were just content to sit and watch the game. The only time there was any reaction at all from the surrounding fans was when Norwich scored the only goal of the match, and even then it was more polite applause than the ecstatic celebration in the stand to his right. The lower Barclay. That’s where he’d rather have been sitting, like he used to back when he had a season ticket of his own. Back when they were affordable.
Jimmy tuned the conversation out and thought about what had happened before the game. He’d achieved his primary goal, which was to find out
where Max lived. On top of that, he’d even got a look at the photographer’s girlfriend, but while that had been interesting, it would not help him find Milly. It was the photographer who was the key, of that Jimmy was certain. He tapped out a text to Gareth to let him know that things had gone well and slipped his phone back in his pocket as the bus pulled up.
Half-way through the journey home, he had a brainwave. He was thinking about Milly’s phone and what the passcode could be, mulling over his earlier conversation with Dave. The young lad had said that most people used some sort of date combination. Jimmy had tried the ones he thought Milly might have used, but they hadn’t worked. There was one date that he hadn’t tried, though.
Jimmy tapped his foot on the floor, willing the bus driver to hurry, but the heavy post-football traffic would not let him anytime soon. He looked out of the window to see where they were before calculating how long it would take him to walk from here. The only problem with that was that he would be exhausted by the time he got home—he was tired enough already—and if the date worked, then he wanted to be as fresh as he could be.
‘Come on, come on,’ Jimmy muttered under his breath, ignoring the strange look from a man sitting beside him.
When Jimmy reached his house, he unwound the scarf from around his neck and shrugged his coat off, throwing them both onto the sofa in the lounge. He hurried into the kitchen where Milly’s iPhone was still plugged into the wall. With shaking fingers, he tapped at the screen and entered his final attempt at the passcode. If he was wrong, then the phone would be useless, even to the police. Jimmy held his breath as he pressed the final number. The date he was trying was one that he was certain Milly wouldn’t forget—it was the date Hannah had died. He braced himself for the familiar buzzing and wobbling screen.
‘Yes!’ Jimmy said through clenched teeth as the phone screen changed. He was now looking at a blank screen. No background, just the standard icons of an iPhone—email, settings, the app store and a few others. He put the phone down on the counter before pouring himself a small glass of whisky by way of a celebration.
A few moments later, having tidied his coat and scarf away, Jimmy was sitting in his lounge with Milly’s iPhone connected to his laptop. The first thing he would do was back up the phone to his Mac, but he needed to wait for iTunes to finish downloading first. While he waited, he flipped through some of the apps on the phone.
The first one he tried was the email icon. Jimmy frowned as he realised there was no email account installed. He checked in the settings, but Milly hadn’t set one up. Next he tried the contacts list. There were none. He checked the recent calls menu and saw a list of missed calls from various mobile numbers. No outgoing calls at all, and the most recent missed call had been the day before. Jimmy thought for a moment about calling some of them, but as he had no idea whose they were or what he would say to whoever replied, he decided against it.
Jimmy was just beginning to wonder if there was anything at all on the phone when he opened the photos app. Finally, he thought, sipping his whisky. There was something on the phone.
The first set of photos he looked at were ones he’d seen before—they were the ones on the USB drive. He scrolled through them on the tiny screen until he reached some pictures he hadn’t seen before. There were only four of them and as far as he could see, Milly—assuming it was Milly—was the only person in them. They looked like informal shots to Jimmy’s untrained eye. Phone snaps as opposed to professionally taken pictures. In them, she looked as if she was wearing a white dressing gown, but Jimmy knew he would have to wait to get them up on the laptop screen to look at them properly.
It took what felt like ages for his ancient MacBook to install iTunes, but eventually he transferred the photographs onto the hard drive of the computer. Jimmy refilled his whisky glass and clicked on the first of the photographs.
It had been taken in what looked like a bedroom. Whoever had taken it had captured Milly walking toward an en-suite bathroom, looking over her shoulder at the camera. He could see a sink and the rim of a toilet through the door she was heading for. As Jimmy had thought when he’d seen the pictures on the small screen, she was wearing a white dressing gown. He zoomed in on her face, and his chest tightened as she filled the screen.
‘Milly,’ he whispered as he examined her carefully. She looked annoyed, as if she didn’t want her picture to be taken. Her mouth was half open, either saying something or about to say something. Milly’s usually immaculate hair was tousled, her cheeks flushed, and she had a slight sheen of perspiration on her forehead. With a sinking feeling, Jimmy realised why she looked the way she did. ‘Oh, Milly,’ he whispered again. ‘What are you up to?’
In the next photograph he looked at, Milly was even more irritated. Her hair was wet and dripping onto the shoulder of the dressing gown. In one hand was a towel which was raised halfway to her head, and the other was held out toward the camera, palm out. The third photograph showed her from the rear, standing and facing away from the camera. It didn’t look as if she knew it was being taken. She was wearing jeans and her hands were behind her back, doing up her bra. Her head was forward, and Jimmy’s eyes were drawn to the tiny tattoo on the small of her back. He didn’t know Milly had any tattoos, but the revelation didn’t surprise him at all given the last few days.
With a heavy heart, Jimmy clicked on the final photograph. This was the clearest of them all, and showed Milly’s head and shoulders. She was fully dressed, wearing a blue denim jacket with the strap of a handbag visible over her shoulder. Milly was face on to the camera, hair still damp and her arms folded across her chest. She had an expression on her face that Jimmy knew well. It was the same face she put on every time he’d pointed a camera at her since she was a small child and told her to say “cheese”. The forced smile, thin lips over gritted teeth, a slight frown.
Jimmy reached for his phone and scrolled through his contacts, pressing it to his ear after he’d selected the one he wanted. After several rings, a tired sounding voice answered.
‘Hello?’
‘Dave, it’s Jimmy.’
‘Who?’
‘Jimmy. Jimmy Tucker.’
‘Oh, hi. It’s quite late, Mr Tucker.’ In the background, Jimmy could hear a woman’s voice asking who the fuck was on the phone at this time of night.
‘Ah, sorry,’ Jimmy replied, glancing at the clock on the wall and realising that it was gone midnight. ‘I didn’t realise.’
‘Give me a sec.’ On the line, the woman’s voice receded into the background. ‘What can I do for you?’
‘If I give you a photograph, can you tell me anything about it?’
‘Such as what?’
‘Who took it, when it was taken, that sort of thing?’
‘Probably not who took it, no,’ Dave replied. ‘But I can probably get some more information, depending on the settings on the camera.’
‘Can I send it to you?’
‘Do you need this now?’
Jimmy paused before replying. He desperately wanted to know everything he could about the photographs, but didn’t want to piss Dave off.
‘No, just as soon as you can if that’s okay?’
‘Sure,’ Dave replied. ‘I’ll text you my e-mail address. Send it over and I’ll have a look first thing when I get into the office.’
Jimmy thanked Dave and ended the call. A few seconds later, his phone buzzed with an incoming text message. Jimmy used his MacBook to e-mail the photograph to him, selecting the largest image size to be on the safe side.
He sighed, realising that there was nothing else he could do that evening. Turning back to his laptop, he re-opened the last image of Milly. Jimmy zoomed in on her face, in particular her eyes. Even though she was pretending to smile, her eyes couldn’t hide the look of determination in them. She looked angry and triumphant in equal measures.
Jimmy zoomed the photograph back out and looked at his daughter. He didn’t want to close the window down. It seemed too final. Wh
at if his laptop wouldn’t re-open it? Knowing he was being ridiculous, he looked at her face one last time before shutting the computer down.
Chapter 30
The first thing Jimmy did when he got up the next day was boot up his laptop to see if there was a reply from Dave about the photograph. Maybe, Jimmy told himself, Dave was an early bird? While he waited for the laptop to work its slow way into life, he glanced at the clock. He doubted that Dave would be in the office this early—it wasn’t even seven o’clock in the morning.
Jimmy checked his e-mail but there was nothing other than spam messages for small blue pills that he wouldn’t have much of a use for, either now or in the future. He closed the laptop lid and got to his feet before calling for a taxi. He rarely took taxis for several reasons. Price was one, the general standard of driving was another, but the main one was that he had yet to meet a taxi driver that he hadn’t taken an instant dislike to. The thing was, he didn’t have a choice. The office that Gareth worked at was on the outskirts of the city and nowhere near any bus routes unless Jimmy wanted to change about three times. Which he didn’t. There was, however, a Starbucks coffee shop over the road from Gareth’s office where he could wait for them to open.
An hour later, after a refreshingly silent cab ride to the industrial estate, Jimmy was sitting in the Starbucks wishing he hadn’t bothered with a cheese and ham toasted sandwich. He didn’t know much about the Trades Descriptions Act, but he was fairly sure that the sandwich would have failed on several counts—the most notable of which was calling it toasted. Faintly warmed in a shit oven didn’t count, in Jimmy’s opinion.
Finding Milly Page 19
