Righteous Anger: A frantic hunt for a child killer (DCI Rob Miller Book 3)

by BL Pearce

  “Yeah, but there was no sign of Katie found at either of their properties, and we checked the entire road. Twice.”

  Jo just shook her head.

  Rob cradled his wine. “There’s this paedophile in the area, a local guy called Payne. We got his name off the sex offenders register. But as far as we know, he didn’t have any connection to Katie.”

  Jo frowned. “A paedophile? I can look into him, if you like. That’s in our ballpark.”

  He nodded. “Thanks. Anything you can dig up, would be useful.”

  He wasn’t going to say no. The National Crime Agency had an entire department dedicated to child abuse and exploitation. It was one of their specialities. Any information they had on this Payne character would far outweigh anything Will could get his hands on – if there was anything to be found.

  “It was awful,” Jo whispered. “After Rachel disappeared.”

  Rob leaned back and watched her. He could see the grief hovering behind her clear, blue eyes. “My mother fell to pieces. Rachel was her favourite. She was always so vibrant and girly. Popular too.”

  “What about you?” Rob wanted to know.

  “I was more of a tomboy. I spent most of my time playing football with my cousins up the road. I remember they had a big garden with a goal post at one end. I didn’t really get on with the girls at school. My mother never said as much, but I’m pretty certain she wished I’d been taken instead.”

  “You can’t know that.” Rob was shocked that she’d feel that way.

  “We didn’t have the best relationship,” Jo admitted. “Mum was very feminine herself, Rachel was just like her. After she disappeared, mum couldn’t cope, so I moved in with my grandparents.”

  “I’m sorry.” He pictured Jo as a lost little girl, reeling from her sister’s disappearance, having no one to turn to.

  “My nana was wonderful.” Her face lit up. It was clear they’d been very close. “She became my surrogate mum. I spent the majority of the next few years at their house. I used to tinker with my grandfather in the garage, play for the local football club, I was happy.” She shrugged.

  “What about your father?” he asked.

  “My father was at a loss at what to do. I remember him arguing with my mother in the weeks after Rachel’s disappearance. It was terrible. That’s one of the reasons my grandmother took me in. Their marriage broke up pretty soon after that. Dad moved to Scotland to be near the oil rigs. He wanted to get as far away as possible. Mum withdrew into herself. I remember her walking around like a zombie. She was there, but in her mind, she wasn’t there, if you know what I mean?”

  “Couldn’t have been much fun for you,” Rob remarked.

  “No, but I was young, so I didn’t really understand. I knew Rachel wasn’t coming back, but I didn’t know what had happened to her. I thought she’d run away.” She paused, playing with the stem of her wine glass.

  “It was only when I was older that I began to understand the implications of her disappearance. My grandmother explained it to me when I was a teenager. My mother never mentioned Rachel again.”

  “That’s tough,” Rob commented.

  She gave a dry little laugh. “You’re the first person I’ve ever talked to about it.”

  “I’m honoured.” He bowed his head. “I’m just sorry you had such an awful time of it. Do you see much of your parents?”

  She shook her head. “Mum’s in a home near Manchester. She never quite recovered. I haven’t seen her in years. Like I said, we’re not close.”

  “And your dad?”

  “He died several years back. Heart attack.”

  “Shit, I’m sorry.”

  “That’s okay. Everybody has their skeletons, right?”

  She was right about that.

  He looked at her with newfound respect. Not only had she suffered parental neglect growing up, but she’d made her way through university into the police force and worked her way up to the rank of Detective Inspector for the National Crime Agency.

  Pride filled his chest, along with something he didn’t care to put a label on.

  She saw the way he was looking at her and whispered, “I’m tired of talking. Shall we go to bed?”

  He nodded. Right now, there was nothing he wanted to do more.

  Silently, she took his hand and they went upstairs.

  19

  The gallery where Payne worked was situated in the centre of Barnes village, a few shops down from the theatre. The glass frontage added a sheen to the contemporary works on display.

  “I never did get modern art,” Rob confessed to Mallory.

  “It helps if you know the context,” Mallory said.

  Rob raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t take you for an art lover?”

  “Not a lover, no, more of an aesthete.”

  Rob grinned. His partner was full of surprises.

  Inside, it was freezing cold. Rob was always amazed at how just because it was summer, people thought they ought to run the air-conditioning at full blast.

  It wasn’t even ten o’clock.

  Pale floorboards stretched from one end of the gallery to the other. The walls were a muted white, and every painting had a light fixture above it, to illuminate the canvas and show it off to its best advantage.

  A marble head stared blankly at them from a pedestal, while a predatory tiger made entirely from metal wire crouched in the corner, waiting to pounce.

  “Can I help you?” a high-pitched nasal voice asked.

  “Are you Anthony Payne?”

  The man nodded warily. He was slim, well dressed, with a mousy-blond combover.

  “I’m DCI Miller and this is DI Mallory.” They both held up their ID’s. “Do you mind if we ask you a few questions.”

  He looked away. “This is about that little girl, isn’t it?”

  Rob raised an eyebrow. “How did you know?”

  “Whenever something like that happens, the police inevitably come knocking on my door.”

  That’s the price you pay for sexually assaulting a minor.

  “Is there somewhere we can talk?” asked Rob.

  The gallery was empty, but Rob didn't want anyone walking in and overhearing their conversation. Payne was of the same mind because he gestured for them to follow him. “I have a back office.”

  They filed into the small musty space. Rob glanced around. Oil paintings against the wall, frames piled on a desk, the acrid smell of turpentine.

  “Take a seat.”

  They sat opposite Payne. Between them was an antique mahogany desk on which was an open laptop. He closed it and gazed at them.

  “You want to know where I was the day that little girl went missing?”

  It was clear he’d been down this road before.

  “The morning, if you don’t mind. Between eight and ten a.m.”

  “Remind me which day it was?” Very clever. Rob caught his eye and knew that he knew exactly which day the little girl had gone missing.

  “Tuesday, the second of August.” He kept his voice even.

  “Ah, well I opened early on Tuesday. Monday is my Sunday, you see, and there’s always deliveries and things to attend to on Tuesday morning.”

  “What time did you get to the gallery?”

  “I was here by eight thirty. We usually open at nine-thirty. Ten, on weekends.”

  “Can anyone vouch for you?” Mallory asked.

  The man ran his eyes over the DI and Rob thought he saw an appreciative spark. If Mallory noticed, he didn’t let on. “Indigo can.”

  “Indigo?” Rob frowned. “Who’s that?”

  “The barista at the Olympic Cafe. I get my morning coffee there before I open up shop.”

  Rob glanced at Mallory, who got up and excused himself. The Olympic Cafe was right next door and there was no time like the present.

  Rob saw Payne’s eyes follow Mallory as he left the office.

  “How long did you do in Wakefield?” Rob asked.

  “Six years.
” His eyes hardened. Not so amenable anymore.

  “You assaulted a minor,” Rob said. “You abused a position of trust.”

  He sighed, a bit overdramatically. “So I've been told. I served my time, okay, and I’ve kept to myself since then. I have no intention of going back inside.” He suppressed a shiver. They weren’t too kind on nonces in prison.

  “Did you ever meet Katie Wells?” Rob watched for a reaction. The man would deny it, even if he did know her.

  His eyes widened slightly. “No, I didn’t.”

  The overriding expression was one of quiet defiance.

  Rob sighed. “Okay, Mr Payne. Thanks for your time.”

  Payne saw him out and watched from the door as he joined Mallory next door at the cafe. Rob glanced back. Payne waved. The smile on his face made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

  “Was he here?” Mallory had just finished talking to a tall, blonde woman in a floor length, sleeveless dress.

  “The manager said Indigo only comes on shift at twelve. Do you want to wait?”

  Rob glanced at his watch. It was ten fifteen.

  “Nah, we’ve got too much to do. Send someone else to talk to him.”

  They walked back to the car. Payne had gone back inside his icy lair, but his shadowy figure could be seen lurking behind the glass frontage.

  “That guy gives me the creeps,” Rob said. “Let’s check him out thoroughly and make sure he’s not connected to the family in any way.”

  “You think he could be involved?” Mallory seemed surprised. He obviously hadn’t picked up the same vibes Rob had.

  He kept his eyes on the glass front until the shadow disappeared. “I’m not sure, but I don’t trust him.”

  They stopped at Tessa Parvin’s house on the way back. “There’s something I want to ask her,” said Rob.

  It was another perfect day. Barnes pond was surrounded by mothers and toddlers, feeding the ducks. Couples watched their kids play. Rob wondered, just for a moment, what it would be like to do that with Jo.

  Tessa was pottering in her garden when they pulled up in front of her house. She raised her head and waved. A nice change from their last greeting. Her front door had been replaced.

  “Good morning, detectives.” She wiped her hands on a dirty tea cloth. “I was just pruning my lavender. It grows like wildfire this time of year. Lovely though. Would you like some for the station? I have tonnes of the stuff.”

  “No, thank you,” he said with a grin. “I’ve actually just popped in to ask you something.”

  She raised her eyebrows. “Is this to do with Arina’s disappearance?”

  “Yes. I spoke to PC Brightman, the constable who responded to your emergency call out the night Arina went missing. He mentioned your husband had packed some of his belongings, which is how you knew he’d left.”

  She nodded, shading her eyes from the sun. “That’s right. He’d taken his suitcase.”

  “What about Arina’s things?” Rob asked. “Had he packed any of her stuff? Was her suitcase missing too?”

  Tessa tossed her secateurs onto the ground. “No. Arina’s things hadn’t been touched.”

  “You’re sure about that?”

  “Of course, I’m sure. No one had been into her room. I told you, Ramin wasn’t interested in Arina. There was no way he’d taken her with him.”

  That’s what he thought.

  “Okay, thanks for clarifying.”

  “Does this mean you’ll reopen the case?” Her voice was hopeful, desperate.

  Mallory glanced down at his feet.

  “We’re still looking into it,” Rob replied. Luckily the glare prevented her from meeting his gaze. He didn’t tell her she was still a potential suspect.

  She nodded. “Thank you, detective.”

  “We need to find out one way or another whether Arina Parvin is living in Iran,” he said, as they walked back to the car.

  “Harry has a contact,” Mallory pointed out, which Rob already knew. “I’ll chase him up on it.”

  “That’s the only way we’ll know for sure whether she’s a real missing person,” he said. “It’s unlikely we’re going to get anywhere through official channels.”

  “Would the NCA be able to help?” Mallory asked.

  He had a point. Jo’s organisation would have contacts to non-profits and humanitarian groups in the country. They might be able to find out if Ramin Parvin had arrived with his daughter four years ago or where she was now.

  “It’s worth a shot,” he said. “I’ll speak to Jo when we get back.”

  Mallory got to work on Anthony Payne, digging into the sex offender’s background. “Liaise with Jo,” Rob had told him. “She was also going to look into him.”

  Rob went to find Harry. “Have you managed to talk to your friend with the uncle in Iran yet?” He got straight to the point.

  Harry, who was on the phone, hung up. “Yes, I did. She’s going to Skype him this evening and ask him to look into it for us. Apparently, he’s not very high up in the police force, so she doesn’t know how much use he’ll be, but she said she’d ask anyway.”

  “Okay, good. Keep me posted.”

  Then he got hold of Jo. “Mallory’s going to call you about Payne’s background. We’re trying to find out if he had any connection to Katie Wells.”

  “I’ve cleared it with my boss,” she told him. “I’m going to look into him too. I’ll give Mallory a call this evening if I haven’t heard from him by then and we’ll compare notes.”

  “Thanks, Jo.” He hesitated. “There’s something else I wanted to ask you.”

  “Yeees.” She dragged out the word, but he heard her smile.

  “Arina Parvin, the girl who went missing four years ago, may be living in Iran. Do you or the agency have any contacts in that country who can find out for us?”

  There was a pause.

  “I think we may know some people. There’s an underground women's empowerment group. I can’t give you any more details. I’ll see if I can get in touch with them. They might be able to help.”

  Hope surged through him. It could be a better line of enquiry than Harry’s friend’s cop uncle. “That would be great. If she is there, we can rule out one of these coincidences.”

  And it would give Tessa Parvin closure.

  The rest of the afternoon passed in a frustrating blur of false sightings, unhelpful forensic reports and useless CCTV footage. By five o’clock, Rob was ready to tear his hair out.

  “There must be something.” Even he could hear the desperation in his voice.

  “I think there is.” Evan’s quiet drawl.

  Rob hadn’t heard him approach his desk.

  “You got something?”

  “I don’t know what I’ve got. You’d better come and look at this.”

  Rob followed him back to his desk. The American DS glided rather than walked, in a smooth, efficient motion. It was the same when he eased himself back into his chair.

  “I looked into the disappearances of other young girls in the area. There are several possibilities.”

  “Rob lowered his voice. “Show me.”

  Evan clicked through to a digital map. On it, he’d pinpointed the locations of the missing girls.

  “Cheam, Elstead, Dorking and Bagshot,” read Rob. “All Surrey, except for Cheam, which is near Sutton, if I’m not mistaken.”

  “That’s right. They’re fairly spread out, which means they fall into the jurisdiction of different constabularies,” said Evan. “That’s one of the reasons nobody’s connected the dots.

  Rob studied Evan’s screen. “Ages?”

  He glanced at his notepad. “Rosie Hutton was twelve, Elise Mitcham eleven, Chrissy Macdonald was fourteen, and Angie Nolan was ten.”

  “They fit the age range,” he mused.

  “They were all reported missing by their parents after failing to return from school or the park or playground. Angie, the youngest, had been under the supervision of her
grandmother. She didn’t see who took her.”

  Rob gnawed on his lower lip. “If you add Arina Parvin to the list, and now Katie Wells, that’s six girls that we know of, who have gone missing in the last…” He glanced at Evan. “How many years?”

  “I looked at the last five years, but it could go back further.”

  “Christ.” Rob ran a shaky hand through his hair. Was this something? Or yet another coincidence?

  “And get this,” Evan said. “Rosie Hutton’s school satchel was found weighted down in a nearby river.”

  It was definitely something.

  He exhaled shakily. “I’m going to have to run this by the Chief Superintendent. I don’t know what to make of it.”

  Evan stayed silent.

  Sam Lawrence had been something of a mentor to Rob when he’d first arrived at Richmond CID. He practiced tough love, but it worked, and Rob had a soft spot for the feared DCS. He often ran ideas by him or bounced hypotheses off him. It was silly not to. The man had over thirty years’ experience in the field.

  He knocked on Lawrence’s door. As usual, it was ajar, but that didn’t mean you shouldn’t knock. Many a DS had learned that the hard way.

  “Come in, Rob.” Lawrence beckoned to him. “I’ve been meaning to catch up with you. What’s news?” He came around from behind his desk and gestured to the three armchairs positioned around a small circular table. “Let’s sit here. I could do with some tea.”

  He picked up the phone and asked someone at the other end to bring them a pot and two cups. “Coffee’s undrinkable.”

  They sat down. The Chief Superintendent leaned back and waited for him to start talking.

  He swallowed. “Sir, there’s something I need to run by you.”

  Lawrence frowned. “What’s on your mind, son?”

  The man was intuitive. He only ever called him son when he knew Rob was taking serious strain.

  “It was something Tessa Parvin said,” he began.

  The Chief Super nodded. “Well, spit it out, then.”

  “She always believed her daughter was kidnapped, even though the official police report concluded the father had taken her to Iran.”

  “Bloody embassy never got back to me,” Lawrence growled.