by Bill Kitson
Again the unexpected change of direction seemed to throw Joan momentarily. ‘Yes. She has to deal with e-mails and that sort of thing.’
‘Does she have a computer at home as well?’
‘She has one in her bedroom.’
‘Do you know if she uses chat rooms and the blog sites that are so popular?’
‘Yes, she does. I know because I heard her talking to Mandy; she’s into computers as well. I remember it ’cause I’d never heard the word blog before.’
‘Any hobbies?’
‘Tennis in summer, and she goes to Netherdale Swimming Baths occasionally.’
‘So, Sarah’s perfectly happy and content. Are there any issues you can think of? What about her health, any problems?’
‘She’s fine. I can’t remember the last time she went to the doctor.’
‘I think that’s enough to be going on with for the moment. I’m going to start things moving to find her. Clara will take you home and stay with you in case she turns up. Do you have any family who might come and be with you?’
Suddenly, Joan Kelly felt very much alone. ‘No, I’m an only child, just like Sarah. Both my parents are dead, and I have no other family.’
‘In that case, it’s even more important that an officer stays with you until this is all cleared up. I’m going to ask DC Pearce to call in later, and I’ll be in touch as soon as I have anything to report. I’m not going to insult your intelligence by saying “don’t worry”, because you wouldn’t be a mother if you didn’t.’
‘Thank you, Inspector.’ Joan Kelly’s simply worded plea went straight to her listeners’ hearts. ‘Just please, find Sarah safe and well, that’s all I ask.’
Nash glanced across at Clara, but she was already on her feet, waiting to escort Joan from the building. He was still staring at the door, reflecting on what he’d been told, when Pearce re-entered the room.
‘I’ve got all the info,’ Pearce laid a sheaf of papers on Nash’s desk.
‘I take it you drew a blank with the ambulance service?’
‘No female casualties, apart from a fifty-year-old woman who got glassed in a cat fight at The Cock and Bottle last night. Nothing unusual for that place.’
‘Right, I want you to follow Clara out to Mrs Kelly’s house. I want you to have a good look round, use your eyes and ears. Ask Mrs Kelly if you can take a peep into Sarah’s room. Check the garage and any outbuildings, all the usual. I want you to get a feel of the atmosphere. According to Mrs Kelly, the home life was close to idyllic. I want to know that she was telling the truth. Ask Clara to get Mrs Kelly to let her check Sarah’s computer. She’ll know what to look for. As soon as you’re finished, I want you straight back. In the meantime, I’m going to rustle up a uniform to replace Clara. You can both be of more use here.’
‘What’s your own feeling, Mike?’
‘I’m not sure, Viv. I’m going to alert Tom before I make a start on these,’ Nash indicated the paperwork Pearce had brought him. ‘I know it’s early days, but, if something has happened, the next twenty-four hours could be critical. One more thing, Viv, while you’re at the house, find out the name of the family doctor. Daughters don’t always tell their mother the truth, particularly about certain health matters.’
‘Tom? Mike Nash here. Sorry to disturb you on a Sunday.’
‘It’s okay. What’s the problem?’
‘We’ve a potential missing person. Nineteen-year-old girl went clubbing on Friday night, failed to return home and hasn’t been seen since. Mother’s frantic. I’ve been through all the usual, family fall out, girl getting laid or getting pissed. According to the mother none of them fits.’
‘You reckon there’s cause for concern?’
‘There seems to be no reason for the girl to stay away of her own free will.’
‘Let me know if you need me to come through. Anything you need in the meantime?’
‘A sensible, kindly WPC to nursemaid the mother, if it can be arranged. Clara’s with her at the moment, but I need her here.’
‘I’ll sort that. There’s a WPC at Bishopton would fit the bill perfectly, anything else?’
‘No, that’s fine.’
It proved to be one of those frustratingly fruitless days in an enquiry when little is achieved, and any information gathered is of a negative value. The small team of CID officers established that everything Joan Kelly had told them appeared to be true.
Sarah’s friend, Mandy, added little to their stock of knowledge. She explained that she’d felt unwell early in the evening and had gone home, leaving Sarah alone at The Red Dragon. Sarah had been undecided about whether or not to continue on to Club Wolfgang. She definitely hadn’t planned to go to Netherdale or Bishopton. She appeared to be her normal, bright and cheerful self. Certainly hadn’t mentioned any worries or problems. Nobody had tried to chat up either girl at the pub or even engage them in conversation. As far as Mandy remembered, the clients were mostly regulars, people the girls knew.
The landlord of The Red Dragon told much the same tale, adding only that as far as he was aware, Sarah had left around 10.30 p.m., alone as he remembered. He too was unable to recall Sarah in company with anyone but Mandy.
All of which was frustratingly inconclusive. The question of what had happened to Sarah Kelly after leaving The Red Dragon was still unresolved. Information from the nightclub itself was much more revealing. Nash interviewed the manager, the DJ, the staff on duty on Friday night. The DJ, one of the barmaids, and both bouncers remembered talking to Sarah, who, along with Mandy and Tammy, was amongst their most popular regulars. Each of them had asked her where the other girls were. In addition, the DJ confirmed having seen Sarah talking to several others during the night and dancing with a couple of men. This might have had more significance but for the bouncers’ resolute statement that they recalled her leaving alone at around 2 a.m.
The manager brought in CCTV tapes shot within the club. Mrs Kelly was brought back to the police station to view these, along with Mandy. The footage confirmed broadly what the nightclub staff had told the police. Mandy was able to identify two out of the three men Sarah had danced with. Both had been at Helmsdale Secondary School with the girls. The third was a stranger to Mandy, to Sarah’s mother and to the nightclub staff.
The videotape also confirmed the accuracy of the bouncers’ statements. Sarah had indeed left the nightclub alone, shortly after 2 a.m. The tape also showed one of the locals and the stranger leaving much later, both accompanied by girls. Mandy snorted with derision on seeing the stranger’s companion. ‘That’s Sharon Bell from Westlea Council Estate. The sort that gives slags a bad name. She’d shag anyone for a pint of lager. No make that a half,’ she corrected herself. ‘Sorry, Mrs Kelly.’
The third man Sarah had danced with had remained in the club until closing time, by which point Sarah should have been at home and in bed. Crucially, the one piece of evidence that might have given them a clue as to what had happened to Sarah after leaving the nightclub was not available. The street surveillance camera (SSC) installed only a few months earlier had been out of action. The lens had been damaged by vandals during the week and the maintenance company hadn’t repaired it. The news left Nash fuming with anger and frustration. ‘I’m going to watch the CCTV tapes again,’ he told Mironova. ‘There’s something I noticed first time round might be worth a closer look.’
He picked the first of the tapes. He wound it on and they started to watch. A few minutes into the footage Nash paused the film. ‘This is it. This next bit, Sarah’s at the bar. She gets a drink and goes to sit down.’ He played a few seconds more of the tape. ‘Then she stops to talk to someone. There!’ He stopped the tape again. Clara peered at the screen. The man’s face was in shadow, his back half turned to the camera. Deliberately? She wondered.
Nash moved it forward frame by frame, but they were unable to get any clearer image of the man Sarah had spoken to. ‘The trouble with those cameras is the resolution’s so poor it�
�s difficult to get a good likeness,’ he grumbled.
‘If necessary, we could get it enhanced digitally,’ Clara suggested.
‘It’s early days for anything so radical, but worth bearing in mind. In the meantime I want you and Viv to find any taxi drivers who were working the late shift and may have seen anything significant.’
Tom Pratt arrived in Nash’s office to see if there had been any developments. He discussed what little evidence there was. Nash was in no doubt. ‘The fact that Sarah left the club alone, sober and early, rules out the more innocent reasons for her disappearance. If there was evidence suggesting she got stoned on drink or drugs, I might be persuaded she was lying low but there’s absolutely no reason to suspect that. All of which points to something more sinister.’
Pratt glanced at his watch; it was almost 6.30 p.m. ‘Supposing you’re right, what do you intend to do next? I’m not saying I disagree with you, mind. I can’t think of a plausible explanation that doesn’t involve foul play either.’
‘Mironova and Pearce interviewed the taxi drivers. There weren’t many of them around, so we’re going to have to try at a later hour. I’m not suggesting one of them picked her up but it’s a possibility. One of them might have spotted her. That’s about all we can do for today. If there’s no positive news by morning I think we should search the area surrounding Sarah’s route from the club to her house, especially any areas of open ground. We’ll need a lot of men to do that thoroughly.’
‘Okay, I’ll go along with all that. Don’t worry about the manpower. I’m going back to Netherdale now. I’ll get working on it. Every available uniformed officer will be here at first light, unless something turns up in the meantime. I’ll get one of our liaison lads to do a press release tomorrow, unless, as I said, something turns up.’
Mironova and Pearce had talked as they were driving back to the station. ‘One bit of good news,’ Clara had said. ‘I think Mike’s beginning to get over the worst of his grief.’
‘How do you work that out?’
‘When I’d spoken to Mrs Kelly this morning, I’d to ring him. I ran him to earth in Lauren Robbins’s bed.’
‘She’d make any red-blooded male cheer up.’
‘It’s the first time he’s looked at a woman since Stella died. I was beginning to think he’d been gelded.’
Nash told them of his conversation with Pratt. ‘Tom’s arranging for search parties to start tomorrow. I’d like you both to talk to the neighbours in the morning. Ask them specifically if they’ve seen any strangers loitering around, any odd callers, cars they didn’t recognize, the usual sort of thing. Then meet me back here.’
chapter three
Helmsdale police station was crowded with officers drafted in from Netherdale and surrounding areas. The short briefing they received from Tom Pratt split the assembled force into three sections. One would cover the area close to Club Wolfgang. The second would search along the route Sarah would have taken to walk home. The third group would concentrate on the open areas in and around the town – sports fields, parks and playgrounds – before switching their attention to the banks of the River Helm that meandered through the nearby countryside.
Nash had a brief conversation with the managing director of Rushton Engineering, who confirmed that Sarah was happy there and well thought of by employers and staff alike. Arrangements were made to speak to all the employees on Tuesday, if it became necessary.
The Kelly family doctor informed them that as far as he was aware, Sarah Kelly had no health issues. Her last visit to the surgery had been several years earlier, for routine injections prior to going abroad. Nash was still on the phone when Tom Pratt dashed into his office. ‘Got a minute!’ His whisper was an excited one.
‘Excuse me a moment,’ Nash lowered the receiver. ‘What’s up?’
‘I’ve just heard from the team at Club Wolfgang. They think they’ve found something. You coming?’
‘You bet. Hang on while I finish.’ Nash resumed his call. ‘Thanks for your help, Doctor. If I need anything more, I’ll get back to you.’
‘What have they got?’ Nash asked as they hurried across the yard to Pratt’s car.
‘A woman’s handbag, more like an evening purse according to the description. It was under one of those big industrial wheelie bins, at the back of that little ginnel running alongside the nightclub. It’s a short cut, one that Sarah could possibly have taken. Sounds as if it might have been kicked under the bin: in a struggle maybe.’
Both entrances to the alley had been taped off. Nash assessed the position where the handbag lay. It was little bigger than a purse, black, with a satin-like finish and a serpentine pattern picked out in brightly coloured glass beads, the sort that could be bought fairly cheaply in a host of different outlets. His nose wrinkled in mild distaste as he bent to peer underneath the bin. The smell of stale urine left him in no doubt as to what many of those frequenting the alley used it for. The bin was almost at the end of the narrow pathway, as it emerged on to the relief road that served as a bypass for the High Street. He straightened up, concentrating his gaze on the main road for a few seconds, then looked round. Nash pointed upwards, indicating to Pratt. ‘I found out yesterday that street camera was damaged a week ago. It might have been a random act of vandalism. However, I’m not so sure. There could be a more sinister motive.’
‘You think it’s been done deliberately? If so, that could mean a carefully planned abduction, rather than an opportunist attack.’
‘It may be pure coincidence, but it needs checking. It’s far too high up for kids throwing stones. Though it would be a fairly easy target with an airgun.’
‘Surely the camera would have recorded them shooting at it?’
‘Not if they fired from an oblique angle. If that is Sarah’s bag and she was attacked here, it’s damned suspicious that the camera just happened to be out of action.’
‘You seem fairly convinced.’
‘I think it’s a hell of a coincidence. Look at the facts we know. Sarah left the club on Friday night, after which she wasn’t seen again. She had to come this way, or walk an extra mile to get home. Now we’ve found a bag on that route. The place we’ve found it is the most vulnerable point, a deserted, dark alleyway with an SSC conveniently out of action. What would you think?’
‘Put like that, I find it difficult to argue. I’ll get SOCO involved. We can’t afford to waste time.’
‘We also need to get the report on the damage to that camera,’ Nash paused and looked at his superior. ‘Tom, you do realize that if an attacker planned this, if he shot the camera and laid in wait for her, we’ve a very harsh set of questions to ask ourselves.’
‘Hang on. I’ve just spotted a flaw in your theory. How would an attacker have known she’d be alone? It was pure chance that one of the girls was away. Even more of a fluke that the other was taken ill. He’d have had no guarantee she’d walk down this alley at all, let alone on her own.’
‘He could have been fairly sure,’ Nash contradicted him. ‘Both the other girls live on the far side of the High Street. They’d have no reason to walk down here. It’d have been out of their way. That in itself means something else.’
‘What’s that?’
‘It means if there is an attacker, he’s been watching and planning this for a long time.’
Pratt left to call in the specialist forensics team and Nash walked out of the alley to the relief road. He looked to the right and left, absorbing his surroundings. This side of the road merely showed the backs of the buildings along the High Street. Most were shops, sprinkled with the usual collection of banks, building societies, estate agencies, an Italian restaurant, a Chinese take-away and a café.
None of these was likely to be the scene of much activity at 2 a.m. on a Saturday morning, apart perhaps from the Chinese. But that was at the far end of the High Street, getting on for a quarter of a mile away.
Nash stood quietly. The scene in his mind’s eye was total
ly different from what was before him. It was no longer Monday morning. It was Friday night and the road was deserted and dark, the nearest street lamp was unlit.
Nash stared straight ahead into the darkened yard belonging to the nearest shop. A car was parked, no lights showing. Inside, a man was sitting hunched and tense behind the steering wheel. Waiting; but for what?
‘Is that what you did?’ He asked in a murmur. ‘Did you watch her, plan all this? Did you shoot out the camera? Park here in this yard with a view of the entrance? Was that it? You’ve anticipated this moment for a long time, wanting Sarah, your need for her growing. Now the time’s come and your lust can’t be denied any longer, can it? You’ve got to have her. The need will drive away any fear. The lust for her young, sweet body will drive out any inhibitions. The desire has become agony, hasn’t it? Tonight you’ll claim your reward. You’re no common rapist though, are you? No, far from it, you’ve selected your victim with care. You’ll have the car window open, waiting for the sound of her footsteps. The sound will clatter, amplified by the confines of the alley. Then you’ll get out of the car. The street’s deserted, safe. But you knew it would be, didn’t you? You knew it because you’ve watched it so often, waiting for the right moment. It’s all part of your planning, your careful, meticulous planning. Nothing left to chance.
‘Is that her footsteps? You’ll have to hurry to conceal yourself behind the big wheelie bin. You know exactly how much time you’ve got, because you’ve planned it all so well. Then you’ll wait until Sarah’s alongside you, or will you leave it until she’s gone past, perhaps? Then you’ll step forward and claim her. That’s how you did it.’
One of Mike’s fellow officers in the Met observed once: ‘Nash seems to go into some sort of a trance at times. When I asked him what he was doing, he said he was committing the crime. I didn’t understand at first, but when he came out of it he’d a string of questions no one else had thought of. I know we’re all supposed to try to get inside the mind of the criminal, but he goes one further. He plans and commits the crime all over again, like watching action replay. I tell you, it spooked me.’
