Discarded

by M. A. Hunter

  ‘Actually, Geoff,’ Jack continues, ‘Emma has a couple of faces she’d like running against the database you developed. We believe the pictures were taken a couple of years after the two went missing so facially there would be a better chance of finding a match. I’ve emailed them to the team account, if you could check for us?’

  Geoff nods without speaking.

  ‘The reason we’ve not yet had much success with matching faces with missing children so far is either the angle of the captured frame won’t allow for comparison, or the face is older than what we hold on file for the missing child,’ Jack explains. ‘We’re experimenting with manually aging the photos we do have to see if better comparisons can be made.’

  ‘Found them,’ Geoff says, eyes still fixed to his screen.

  ‘What? Already?’ I ask, surprised at the speed with which the match was made.

  ‘The girl is an 86.5 per cent match to one of the extracted frames, and there is a 64.9 per cent match to the lad. Not perfect, but see for yourself.’

  Jack and I move round behind him and stare at the screen. Sure enough, the still frame shows a girl pressed up against a wall who does resemble the headshot I was sent. The frame of Cormack is less obvious, though the dark ginger hair in the frame looks to be the same tone as that of the missing child poster I found online.

  I move away from the screen as the enormity of the discovery sinks in. Faye and Cormack were at Pendark. It isn’t a huge surprise about Faye, given her remains were discovered in the suitcase there, but it ties Cormack to her, and that in turn potentially ties Saltzing to Pendark. And it possibly ties them both to my sister and Freddie.

  ‘Great, thanks, Geoff,’ I hear Jack say, before joining me back at his desk. ‘You look like you’ve seen a ghost. Are you okay?’

  I’m far from okay, but I can’t bring myself to answer that question, as I’m hit with a wave of emotion. I’m grateful when Jack catches me and I bury my head in his shoulder.

  DCS Rawani is waiting in his office when we return and I’m surprised to find he has printed off images of Arthur Turgood and Peter Saltzing and stuck them to the notice board out of sight of the door. He is standing beside the notice board studying further printed pages in his hands.

  ‘Good, you’re back. I trust, by your faces, you found a match?’

  ‘Not close enough to say categorically it’s them,’ Jack confirms, ‘but close enough that it’s worth pursuing.’

  ‘How close is enough, Jack?’

  ‘86 and 65 respectively. That’s a better start than we had when we were reviewing Jemima Hooper’s case.’

  Rawani narrows his eyes. ‘Very well, that is what you are to report back to DCI Dainton. File a report on the photographs that Miss Hunter received, but for now do not mention the picture received today. I note you’ve sealed it in an evidence bag, presumably because you were planning to have it forensically examined? I would urge you against such a measure, as we don’t want others to know the former commissioner is under investigation.’

  I can’t help smiling through my fatigue at the mention of we.

  ‘For now, re-investigate the disappearances of Faye McKenna and Cormack Fitzpatrick as you did with Jemima Hooper with Tomlinson always in the back of your mind, but never mentioned in public. As soon as anyone gets a sniff that we are actively pursuing the former commissioner, we will come under huge scrutiny. For the time being we need to keep those dogs at bay.’

  Jack is nodding along, jotting notes as Rawani continues to suggest directions the investigation can take.

  ‘And that brings me back to you, Miss Hunter. Are you prepared to make a formal statement to Jack about how you came to receive the pictures of Faye and Cormack, but leaving out reference to the latest photograph?’ He narrows his eyes, awaiting my response.

  He is asking me to lie in a statement. No, okay, it’s not exactly lying, but he wants me to omit part of the truth, and now that he’s asking, I don’t know how I feel about that. Jack says he trusts DCS Rawani, and until this point I have had no reason to doubt his credentials. However, what happens if we’re wrong about him and his offer of help is solely to take control of the investigation and bury any reference to Tomlinson? My omission would make me complicit in such an act, and that’s not something I’m prepared to do.

  ‘Miss Hunter?’ Rawani presses when I haven’t responded. ‘I understand your reluctance and I believe you are right to have reservations. To that end, I would also like you to make a second statement in the presence of Jack and myself, where you do share what was received today. That way, each of us can hold a copy of that statement offline, so that if firm links to Tomlinson are discovered, it can be resurrected as required. Would you be in agreement with that approach?’

  ‘Absolutely.’ I beam, grateful that he doesn’t resent my reticence.

  ‘Good, then I suggest we do that next, and then you can be on your way, Miss Hunter. Might I also suggest you use your journalistic instinct to make discreet enquiries into Tomlinson’s background? It would certainly put a protective barrier around Jack and me – like tackling the problem from opposite ends and hoping to meet somewhere in the middle.’

  ‘Sounds like a plan,’ I concur.

  ‘And you really have no idea who is sending you these pictures?’

  ‘None whatsoever.’

  Chapter Forty

  Then

  Basingstoke, Hampshire

  The caravan was warm and musty as Joanna sat, head buried in her hands, awaiting the return of Precious. She’d cried all the way home until the tears had run dry, and as much as she wanted to make Grey feel guilty for his part in their separation, her eyes remained dry. He hadn’t left her since they’d returned, maybe still conscious of her escape attempt last year. He needn’t have worried; it was black as death outside and it had started raining when they’d arrived back, and she wasn’t stupid enough to run off in such conditions. Not again. The pitter-patter on the roof confirmed it was raining hard outside now.

  ‘You want something to drink?’ Grey asked now, watching her from his seat across the small room.

  She raised her head and shook it.

  ‘Sure? I make a mean hot chocolate. You should try it.’

  She shook her head again; she had no appetite for something hot and sweet. The alcohol she’d consumed at the party hadn’t settled well with the wine they’d drunk before they left and she couldn’t tell if it was that or the frantic ball of worry in her gut that was making her feel so nauseous. She hadn’t eaten anything since lunch, but her appetite was long gone.

  Precious had warned her what would happen if they ever crossed Mr Brown, and Joanna had seen the look of pure hatred in his eyes as he’d removed his belt and closed that door. He was going to make her suffer, and it was all Joanna’s fault. Had she not kicked up a fuss and gone with Bill and his bushy beard, they wouldn’t be in this situation now. In fact, they would probably have finished their assignments and be on the way back with handfuls of cash each. Instead, she was trapped here with only the lascivious letch Grey for company.

  She started as Grey slapped his hands on his thighs and stood. ‘Well, I’m going to fix myself a drink while we wait.’ He opened the fridge and peered around inside, then slammed it shut with dissatisfaction. ‘What happened to that wine I bought you two? You can’t have drunk it all already. Have you got any other booze in here?’

  ‘No,’ Joanna replied quietly.

  Grey sighed, settling for filling the kettle from the tap and putting it on to boil. He looked so unkempt: his suit jacket hanging from the chair was creased, his shirt only half tucked in, and his tie pulled into a tight ball of a knot. He was a far cry from the man she’d met at the newsagent’s eighteen months before – a lifetime ago. Precious had warned her at the party that she should consign that part of her life to the history books, and in a way she’d already started packing it away. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d thought about her mum and dad. Presumably they were o
ut there somewhere, though she couldn’t be sure if they’d still be looking for her. Grey had told her that her parents had given her to them, and if that was the case they’d have no reason to look.

  ‘Ha!’ Grey exclaimed, pointing a finger in the air and moving across to his jacket on the chair with a gleeful grin. Reaching inside the jacket, he extracted a metal hip flask, unscrewing the lid and taking a swig. He lowered the canister and offered it to her, but she shook her head.

  ‘You don’t need to be scared,’ he told her, moving across to the table and dropping onto the cushioned seat beside her. ‘It’s only a drop of scotch. I won’t tell if you don’t.’ He pushed the flask towards her again but she pushed his hand back.

  The pungent aroma caught in her throat, causing her to dry retch.

  ‘Suit yourself,’ he admonished, taking another swig for himself. ‘S’pose it’s not to everyone’s taste. What sort of stuff do you like then? You like sweet wine, right? I’m sure Precious doesn’t drink it all on her own, right?’

  In any normal situation, asking an eleven-year-old what her favourite alcoholic beverage was would be a weird question, but not here.

  ‘When’s Precious going to be back?’ she asked, deliberately fluttering her eyelashes as she did.

  He looked away when she caught him looking at her. ‘I told you, I don’t know. All I was told was to bring you back and wait with you here until Mr Brown returned. That’s what I’m doing.’

  ‘But when will they be back?’

  ‘How long’s a piece of string?’

  She considered him: the scar on his forehead that broke one of his eyebrows in two, the scar tissue stopping the hair follicles from growing. She’d been so terrified of him that night in the woods, but that fear had diluted since she’d experienced just how terrifying Mr Brown was by comparison. What was it Precious said about him? My enemy’s enemy is my friend, or something like that.

  ‘You’re scared of Mr Brown too, aren’t you?’ she said, reaching out and gently resting her hand on his.

  His head snapped round at the comment as if he was planning to bite her head off, but instead he looked at her hand and then into her eyes. ‘We could get out of here, you know.’

  The lust she’d seen so many times in the photo studio was there again, constricting the veins beside his eyes and dilating the pupils. She began to withdraw her hand, realising her plan to sweet talk the information out of him had been misjudged, but he caught her fingers and gently pulled her hand towards his lips, kissing it.

  ‘I’m not a bad man. You understand that, don’t you? I’m not like Mr Brown. I care for you girls.’ Lust dissipated into trepidation. ‘I care for you, Kylie. You know that, don’t you? You’re special to me. The way I feel about you…’ He chuckled to himself. ‘I know how ridiculous it must sound, but I’ve never felt this way about anyone before.’

  His confidence grew and he shuffled round so that he was facing her and could hold both of her hands. ‘What if we left this place now? Together. You and me. I can’t believe I’m even suggesting this, yet somehow I know you won’t laugh in my face. I’m in love with you, Kylie. There, I’ve said it now and I can’t take it back. I love you, Kylie! I am in love with you, Kylie. That’s why I didn’t want any of those other men to be with you tonight. That’s why I’ve kept you from attending those bloody parties for so long. You don’t have to say you love me, but I think if you got to know me – away from this place – then you’d see I’m not as bad as you might think now. I’m not the most handsome guy, but you could do a lot worse.’

  Her head was spinning. She had not foreseen this turn of events.

  ‘We could go now, somewhere they’d never find us. Somewhere we could just be alone. We could go to South America; they’d never look for us there. What do you think? Nobody would judge us there either. I know you’re still developing, and I promise I won’t touch you until the time is right and when you’re ready. Please, Kylie, just say the word and we can go right now, before Mr Brown gets back. What do you say? Will you give me the chance to love you as you deserve to be loved?’

  She had no intention of going anywhere with him, and she couldn’t leave Precious behind to face Mr Brown’s wrath alone. He would be angry if Grey took her away, and he would only have Precious to take it out on. Precious had already suffered because of her, and she wasn’t prepared to repeat the mistake. She was about to tell him as much when they heard the squeaky brakes of a car pulling up outside.

  Grey dropped her hands like they were diseased and hurried to the door, peering out before quietly cursing and hiding the hip flask back in his jacket and retaking his place on the chair, as if the last five minutes hadn’t happened. His cheeks were flushed and his hairline bore the sheen of perspiration.

  ‘Not a word about what we discussed,’ he said in a loud whisper moments before the door opened and Mr Brown hurried in out of the torrential rain.

  He pulled the door closed behind him and locked it. There was no sign of Precious. Joanna could only hope she was still in the car and would be brought in shortly.

  Mr Brown saw her staring at the door and launched towards her, dragging her out from behind the table by her hair. She yelped and screamed and tried to prise his hand from her hair, but his grip was strong and his pull tight.

  ‘You belong to me,’ he said evenly, almost lifting her from the floor. ‘When I tell you to go and screw a client, you will fucking go and screw that client. Am I clear? Do you realise how much you cost me tonight?’

  Tears had found their way to her eyes once more and she continued to claw at his hand without success. ‘Let go of me,’ she spat. ‘I won’t do what you tell me. You’re just a brute and a bully.’

  He slapped her hard across the face with his free hand but held her tight, which kept her upright. Her cheek burned with the pain. He slapped her again in the exact same place and the anger erupted from her gut. She scratched her acrylic nails down the side of his face, drawing blood. He immediately released her hair and she toppled to the floor, breaking her fall with her hands and immediately diving away from his lunge.

  ‘Oh, there’s nothing I like more than a girl who thinks she’s got a bit of fight in her. I broke that out of that black bitch and it’ll be fun to break it out of you too.’

  He lunged again but she shuffled her feet out of his grasp. She was now on the linoleum of the kitchen but that meant she was heading towards a dead end. But if she could just slip into the bedroom, she could barricade the door until she thought of a better means of escape. Scrambling over the floor, she’d almost made it to the next strip of carpet when she felt the warmth of his hand on her ankle, dragging her back towards his menacing sneer. It was the same look he’d worn when he’d closed the door on him and Precious earlier.

  ‘Leave her alone,’ she heard Grey say, but out of sight.

  ‘You stay out of this,’ Mr Brown barked back. ‘If you kept better order around here I wouldn’t need to dole out the punishments.’

  Grey came into view and she saw him push a hand into Mr Brown’s shoulder, causing him to release her ankle.

  ‘Oh, you want a piece of the action, do you?’ Mr Brown sneered, before a fist flew out and connected with the side of Grey’s head.

  Grey stumbled, crashing into the crockery and cutlery on the draining board, sending it hurtling to the hard floor, narrowly avoiding Joanna’s feet as she scurried out of the way. Grey straightened himself before lunging back at Mr Brown, driving a shoulder into his gut and forcing Mr Brown to take several corrective steps backwards. Mr Brown drove an elbow into Grey’s back and her knight dropped to his knees, but he wasn’t beaten yet, coming back with an uppercut to Mr Brown’s chin, before having his legs kicked out from him. Grey fell to his knees and Mr Brown took advantage, delivering blow after blow to his face, blood splashing across the cupboards, tiles, and floor.

  Joanna didn’t want to watch the two of them any longer and saw her opportunity to make it to the bedroom and b
arricade the door, but as she pressed her palms into the linoleum, she felt something sharp catch her skin and saw that the blade of the chopping knife had drawn blood. She stopped and looked back to where Grey’s face was rapidly swelling under the force of Mr Brown’s punches. Without a second’s thought for her own safety, she grabbed the knife’s handle, and charged towards the two of them, aiming for Mr Brown’s chest. But he saw her coming and took a single step back, swivelling Grey in the process, and Joanna’s momentum was too great to stop. The knife cut through Grey’s crumpled and bloody shirt like it wasn’t even there.

  He grimaced and blood spurted from the wound as he crumpled to the floor, clutching at the area where only the handle remained visible.

  Joanna stared open-mouthed at what she had done, but couldn’t move to do anything to help him. Shock shut down her brain and she stood as still as a statue while the blood quickly spread over the rest of Grey’s creased shirt, swallowing the stains caused by his bloody nose and lips.

  ‘Oh, fucking brilliant!’ Mr Brown shouted at her. ‘Look what you’ve bloody well done now!’

  Grey spluttered on the floor as his breaths came quickly, but they started to slow until they stopped altogether, leaving him staring ashen-faced and wide-eyed at Joanna.

  She still couldn’t move and made no effort to fight Mr Brown as he picked her up and carried her out through the rain, forcing her into the boot of his car. ‘I should have buried you with that black bitch but I can’t afford to lose any more money tonight.’

  She stared at him from the rough surface of the boot liner, paralysed by fear.

  ‘You’ve cost me far too much already,’ he growled, ‘and it’s about time you started earning some money. So you’re going to go away for a while, Kylie, somewhere you can’t cause me any more trouble. And I know just the man who’ll pay good money for a virgin like you.’