Chapter 11: Chapter 11

TWENTY-TWO

Miley curled up in the corner of her room at the back of the house, shaking and hoping that the boss would bring her some medicine soon. Her stomach had been playing up something rotten. Jackie had been calling out until about half an hour before, but her room was now silent. There was no way Miley could go and check on her. She had to stay near the bathroom, like she’d been doing for the last two hours. She heaved again but there was no use going to the bathroom, there was nothing left to come out of her. ‘Stop,’ she screamed as a pain shot through her body. The heat was the worst. Sweating – she dripped like a tap; her misshaped T-shirt had soaked through. All she had wanted was to walk on the grass but no one had come to let her out. She wanted to feel what it was like to breathe in fresh air, to walk barefoot on the ground, to listen to the birds chirping. ‘Let me out!’ Tears mingled with sweat and ran down her cheeks. No one ever heard. She didn’t really care about going out for a walk any more. She only wanted her medicine.

Reaching down, she scratched her leg until she drew blood. The flaring red stripes going down her shin were now allowing little droplets of blood to escape. She scratched again. It was like there were insects burrowing under her skin, trying to find an escape. She’d let them out so they could be

free. She clawed and clawed until finally she’d sliced a piece of skin with her nails.

An armoured black insect with a visible exoskeleton emerged from the wound, having pushed through muscle and flesh until its large head poked out, peering at her with its compound eyes, each receptor an eye in itself. Her mind turned to how the creepy crawly must see. How many of her could it see? One, five, a thousand. She screamed as the creature pushed the final part of its body out, the abdomen. As it did, the wound stretched further and blood began to drip down her leg. ‘Get off me,’ she cried as she went to hit it. The insect pushed its wings from its thorax, dodging her hand as it flew away, buzzing around the window. It wasn’t like any fly she’d ever seen. ‘It’s not real, it’s not real,’ she kept repeating. ‘You’re not real.’

‘There, this should make things better. You know I always make sure you’re well looked after. I don’t know why.’ Her skewered vision caught sight of him as he leaned over her.

‘Thank you,’ she whimpered as she lay flat on the floor.

He could administer her medicine wherever he liked.

‘Not that you deserve it. I can’t believe how little care you’ve been taking of her. She’s precious to me, you know. Have you ever loved someone immensely?’

As the medicine coursed through her body, a wash of calmness began to replace the anxiety. She was on the floor, in her room, with her boss leaning over her. Such an understanding boss. No other boss would ever give her another chance after what had just happened. She reached down and brushed her fingers over her shins and legs. There were a few raised lines but no wetness. The insect had gone and she was

fine. There was no insect. There is no insect, she kept repeating in her head.

‘I love Jitterbug.’ A smile spread across her face as she remembered Stacey telling her how much she loved Jitterbug. ‘And my mother.’

‘You need to remember why you left home and focus on that. That woman in the next room is my world and unless you treat her like she’s your world, you will be punished. You know what that means.’ He held up an empty syringe. ‘Imagine if there were no more of these. How would that make you feel?’

Her face scrunched up as she burst into tears, laughing and crying at the same time.

‘That pain you feel, before you have your medicine; it’s a killer, isn’t it?’

She nodded and sobbed as she dragged her fingernails along the floor. The very thought of not having the next fix lined up was shaking her to the core.

‘So you will look after my darling Jaqueline?’

‘I will, I promise. I love Jaqueline.’ She lay back and wiped her tears away.

‘You need time to think, remember how lucky you are.

Remember, I saved you. Remember that.’

She sobbed and reached out for his hand, just wanting some close human contact, just a hug. ‘Get off me, you filthy cow. Don’t ever touch me, you hear? I never touch you, do I?’

She let out a half giggle as the drug continued to work its way through her veins. ‘I hear you, loud and well. I need to go out for a walk. I want to go out,’ she murmured with a smile as

she wiped a string of snot from her face. ‘Please let me go in the garden.’

‘You will one day. Work hard, and when you deserve a treat, you will get one,’ he whispered in a soothing voice.

She closed her eyes as she listened to the call of the crows coming from outside. Within moments she’d nodded off, entering a world of most welcomed dreams.

It was dark, maybe the middle of the night. She flinched as she reached down to pull the blanket from her sticky body. She shrieked in pain as she tried to touch the lamp to turn it on. Pressing the switch with her knuckle, she stared at her stinging fingertips. Each one had been burned, leaving a seeping, blistered mess where they should have been. Was that the punishment he’d promised her? It pained her to cry as she rolled on her back. They throbbed from tip to wrist. What had happened? She remembered needing her medicine and then one of the bosses had returned. She must have had her medicine as she’d felt so calm and sleepy. The insect had vanished and she’d had the most perfect dream. She’d dreamed of Freddie, her school crush. He’d never shown much interest in her but when she finally finished with this job, she’d look him up, find out what he was doing and maybe they’d date for a while, go to the cinema. That dream had ended and she was here, all alone, working hard to make something of herself. She sobbed as she bent her fingers.

Her gaze stopped at the opened bottle of unbranded vodka on the floor. There was at least half left and the top had been removed. She struggled to open the cap, careful to lift the bottle between her two palms and took a swig, before pouring

a little over her wounds, letting out a yelp as she held the bottle. A creature flapped past her head. Freezing mid swig, she let the bottle slip from her quaking hands and took a few sharp breaths. The insect was back. As it flapped in front of her, following the light, she exhaled. It was just a moth, a plain old moth, searching for light in the darkness – a bit like her at this moment.

She flinched as a screech filled the air. Jackie had woken. It was her duty to attend to her. The woman constantly yelled repetitive sounds and this was followed by a bang. She held her breath, fighting against the need to gasp for air. Jackie had stopped babbling. Something had happened. She was going to be punished again.

TWENTY-THREE

TUESDAY, 17 JULY 2018

All eyes were focused on Gina as she stood at the head of the main table in the incident room. ‘Thank you for all being here on time,’ she said as Jacob entered, looking flustered. Briggs removed his jacket and fanned a pile of paperwork in front of his face.

It was only seven thirty in the morning but the heat was already stifling. O’Connor gave the window a shove and it finally opened, letting in no breeze at all. In fact, all it let in were the midges and drunk-looking wasps that had been buzzing around outside. He pulled the cord, dragging the blind across to block out the intense sun.

Gina walked over to the front of the room with a pen, ready to update the board as they spoke. ‘Thank you. Right, I have updated the system and some of you might have seen that we received the forensics results from the girl’s clothing. Traces of blood have been identified that do not belong to the girl. She is A negative, the blood found on her clothing is group O. The results from her fingernail clipping show a trace of human faeces present under the fingernails, again, not her own. The question is, whose? Her state is worsening. I called the hospital for an update before this briefing and she is on almost constant monitoring.’

‘So we might never get to speak to her and find out what went on?’ Wyre asked as she rolled her crisp white shirtsleeves up.

‘I hold out hope. She’s still fighting. Have we managed to find out what was on the old Nokia phone we found in Darren Mason’s room?’

Keith scratched his nose as he turned a page in his notebook. ‘The battery was indeed dead. We recharged the phone and managed to turn it on. There were old messages on it, but they were messages between kids, a nine-year-old Darren and his old school friends. It looks like the parents gave him this basic phone years ago to keep tabs on him when he was playing out. I passed these over to O’Connor.’

‘Yes, I followed up on the numbers. Some haven’t been in use for a few years. The ones that were still in use belonged to his mother and father. Again, I read through the transcripts of the answerphone messages and his texts and there was nothing that relates to the case. All the messages date back to around 2008. I really thought we were on to something, finding that phone, but nothing. Sorry, guv.’

It wasn’t what she hoped it would be, O’Connor was right. ‘Damn it, anything back on the family laptop?’

O’Connor annoyingly tapped his fingers on the table as he read his notes. ‘Yes. This was interesting. I know why Mr Mason didn’t want us to take his computer.’ He paused and smiled. Gina shrugged her shoulders. ‘He was downloading porn, of the legal adult variety. The account was in his name anyway.’

‘So nothing again? We can’t have him on his father’s legal porn downloads. What about the syringe in Darren Mason’s room?’

Keith swigged his drink and sat back. ‘We analysed traces of the substance in the syringe. It had been used to inject anabolic steroids. They are injected into the muscle, where the steroid is released slowly. He was probably hoping to increase muscle mass. Also, as part of the testing that we did, the results from the girl’s blood shows us that she’d been using heroin.’

‘So we can’t even link the contents of his syringe to her?’ ‘That’s right, guv.’ Keith closed his pad.

‘The orders for the steroid injections were also showing on the laptop. Didn’t even try to hide it. He was still logged in. Darren Mason had made the order via an online supplier. Looking into the supplier is just another job to add to the ever increasing list,’ O’Connor said.

‘I suppose we have to release him on bail, for now. Nothing linking him to the girl in his house, nothing at Callum’s Besford’s flat and no further evidence. Given that he’s in a relationship with Callum Besford, we need to make sure he’s safe when we release him if he’s heading back there and not home. Callum told us that some local youths were harassing them, homophobic harassment. I’ve contacted Redditch Police and the council, they are following up on these incidents.’ Gina slammed a fist on the table. ‘Looks like we’re back at the beginning and I really thought we were getting somewhere. We need to make sure we’ve plotted every stop that Darren made that morning and work on the theory that she got into the van during one of these stops. Although the girl could have been in his van since leaving Callum’s flat. Maybe she got in when he was parked up in Winyates, Redditch. O’Connor, can you follow this one up? Arrange a door to door of the area. Find out if anyone saw her getting

into his van on that morning or the night before. Wyre, can you go over the plot points on the map, where Darren said he’d stopped to talk to Callum on the phone. Find out what’s around, anywhere she could have come from. Any CCTV, private or commercial? I know you’ve been working on this, but spread the net a little wider.’

Wyre nodded.

Gina’s phone went. She recognised the number. The call was coming from Cleevesford Hospital. ‘Excuse me,’ she said as she stepped towards the window to get a clearer signal. The room filled with chatter as the rest of the team discussed their next moves.

‘DI Harte.’

‘Doctor Nowak,’ he replied with a faint accent. ‘Any updates? Has she been brought around?’

‘Quite the opposite, I’m afraid there was nothing more we could do for her.’

Gina placed the flat of her hand on the window and stared out at the car park. That wasn’t what she wanted to hear.

TWENTY-FOUR

Jacob entered Gina’s office and sat opposite her. She scrolled down her messages. ‘I’ve just forwarded some information to corporate communications detailing the girl’s description, hopefully this will be on their websites as soon as they receive it, and on the radio and local news for mid- morning or lunchtime. Someone must have seen her getting into the van. Winyates is a highly populated estate. If she ended up in the van there, someone must have seen something. Maybe the youths did.’

She made a note to task Wyre and O’Connor to follow that up. ‘What about CCTV? The back of the businesses lead out to this car park too. Some of them have probably got CCTV. The buses run on the road just behind the car park. People would be coming and going at most hours, and after the pub closed. It’s a busy little estate centre. Maybe someone saw the girl hanging around. We need the CCTV from all the shops and the pub.’

‘Then the question is, did she get in of her own free will?’

Gina began picking at the end of her biro where the plastic had broken off. She tried to imagine Winyates centre on a Friday night. Maybe the pub had been full or the chip shop had been busy. People may have been visiting one of the later

hours convenience stores. Maybe someone had seen the girl; she may have been high and wandering around. Did she find the van open and decide to sleep there until morning then awoke to find the van moving? Gina shook her head. ‘Why was she splattered with someone else’s blood?’ Gina paused for thought. ‘She had a cut to her side. Had she been attacked and defended herself? Maybe she’d run away from something, using the van as a hiding place. Maybe it was the blood of another girl. Toby Biddle’s words keep coming back to me. He said she whispered, “help her” to him as she lost consciousness. We have to find out if she was there first and that starts with asking questions and gathering CCTV.’

Jacob leaned back in the chair. ‘Definitely. Can I nick a biscuit, guv?’ She slid the almost empty pack of chocolate digestives across the table.

‘No breakfast this morning?’

‘No, Amber didn’t stay over so I didn’t bother making any just for me. She seemed a little miserable last night and left. She’s just realising what it’s like to date a detective. It took longer than I thought it would. They all say they don’t mind the hours and the call-outs, but eventually they get fed up. It’s been a passionate few months,’ he said with a smirk.

‘I gather it’s not love then?’

‘I did wonder. I suppose I had high hopes, but nah. I’ll survive. I might be wrong, she said she was coming over tonight but what will be will be.’ He took the last whole biscuit and crunched down on it.

‘Wyre is working on all the stops that Darren Mason took. I can see this is going to take up a lot of our resources and I can’t see us getting any extra officers to do all the groundwork. What a luxury that would be. We are going to

need Smith’s assistance. I know he’s battling the drug issues in Cleevesford so do be nice.’

‘Aren’t I always? We both know Smith loves assisting us on the juicier cases.’

‘Get some of his team over to all the places Wyre pinpoints. Ask at the houses and businesses. See if anyone knows anything. We also have the appeal, as soon as that airs, I’m sure we’ll be inundated.’

‘Full day ahead then, guv?’

Gina finally snapped off a piece of the pen’s casing and dropped it onto the desk. ‘Isn’t it always? The singed off fingerprints bug me a lot. Either she or someone else was trying to conceal her identity. Why? After the conversation with Doctor Nowak, he also said they spotted a very small amateur tattoo on one of her buttocks – live the dream. I suppose we’ll learn far more from the post-mortem. We need to check missing persons too. Someone out there must be missing a daughter, a sister, a friend.’

‘I’ll get on to missing persons before the influx of calls come through.’ Jacob pulled her door closed as he left.

Gina grabbed the last bit of broken biscuit and began crunching on it as she opened the case files, her mind wandering into her own life as she caught up on the case. That girl could be anyone’s daughter, it could have been Hannah. As the biscuit mulched in her mouth, she shivered as her stomach clenched and her heart rate increased. She tried to swallow but her throat wasn’t obeying her wishes. She grabbed the paper bin and spat the biscuit out as she gasped for breaths.

She tried to block out the difficulties she and Hannah were having, hoping that the silent treatment would end at some point. Closing her eyes, she tried to think about happier times.

She remembered taking Hannah to the park when she was about six. They’d laughed so much as Gina had gone down the big slide, head first, following eight-year-old Hannah. She’d got wedged in the middle. Hannah ran back around and went down the slide behind her, placing her little feet over Gina’s, slowly pushing her to the bottom, both of them in fits of laughter. ‘I’ll rescue you, Mummy,’ Hannah had said. ‘I’ll rescue you.’ She had rescued her, in more ways than one. Her little girl had kept her sane over the years as she processed what she’d been through with Terry. Without Hannah in her life, who knows where she may have ended up? Only, it was a shame things had to change. Hannah changed as her teen years took over and their relationship had never recovered.

Gina flinched as the office phone went. Briggs.

‘Harte, the press release is out. It’s online but it will be hitting the radio soon and the local news on TV at noon. Be ready.’

TWENTY-FIVE

Julia threw her backpack onto the kitchen table, flicked the switch on the kettle and placed a cup on the worktop. Her daughter was still out there somewhere, mixed up in who knows what and here she was, making a cup of tea. She grabbed the cup and screamed as she threw it at the patio doors, making a slight chink in the glass. With white knuckles, she gripped the spoon and allowed her pent up tears to fall down her cheeks. If Christina’s friend had said something sooner, she might have found her daughter. After this long, the trail was weak and she could be anywhere. And who was the lad she’d taken off with? The girl had told her all about Christina’s crush on a boy at school. If only that boy had accepted her proposition of a date rather than humiliated her in front of everyone, telling the whole school that Christina was a mini stalker because she swooned over him when he walked by. Isn’t that what a lot of teenagers do? Swoon over boys and girls they liked.

Their conversation had been useful. She was looking for someone called Westley, no surname as yet. Apparently, he was known for hanging around by the river in Worcester, exactly where she’d hung the posters up. Christina must have been hanging around there with him and not one person had called with information, not one person had anything

whatsoever to say. She opened the fridge and grabbed a half- opened bottle of wine and poured a glass. Coffee wasn’t going to cut it today.

Christina had only spoken about him to her friend once or twice, saying that she’d met him in Worcester and that he was good fun to be around. A bit older, she’d said. What was a bit? Was he seventeen or was he in his twenties? She had said Christina mentioned that he wanted to try living in Birmingham at some point, thought there might be some work for him. Had he groomed her little girl and taken her to Birmingham? Or had they run away together? Christina certainly had a wild and rebellious streak but she was so naïve in many ways, always thinking she knew it all.

The police needed to know. She ran away, yes, but had she gone off with someone dangerous and was she still with him? Maybe they’d received reports about someone called Westley in Worcester or even Birmingham. It might provide a link at least. Her mind conjured up images, from homeless young people sitting in the doorways of Birmingham Centre shops to sleazy houses offering massages, where runaway kids were being pimped out.

‘Roy,’ she said as she turned. ‘I didn’t hear you come home. You’re meant to be at work.’

He took the wine from her hand and poured it down the sink. ‘This has to stop. I know you blame me for the other day, but every weekend since she left I’ve been out there with you, haven’t I?’

‘Reluctantly.’

‘You never shut up, do you? I’m trying my best here.’

She nodded, holding back any further tears. Things were already tense between them. He’d said a lot he probably regretted and so had she. ‘Whatever.’

‘I want to help, I really do. But every weekend we replace posters that don’t need replacing. It’s not getting us anywhere. I can’t keep doing this. I get really pissed off when you throw it in my face that I’ve never had kids of my own and I can’t possibly understand. I’ve been there for you both, haven’t I? Yes, things have been difficult. Yes, she doesn’t really like me living here and threw that in my face more than once when having one of her outbursts. I’ve let all that ride because I can see it from her point of view. She has you all to herself and suddenly it’s you and me all the time. Anyway, I’m here now. So, what next? I am not going to just replace posters on lamp posts. Now what was it you wanted to tell me?’

He was right. She’d thrown so many insults at him and pushed him away. ‘This morning, you wondered where I had been.’

‘Yes?’

‘I met Christina’s friend. She told me Christina went off with someone she’d been hanging around with along the river in Worcester, someone called Westley.’

‘She what? Why didn’t that girl say something earlier?

What else did she say?’

‘She wasn’t much help, she seemed really upset that she hadn’t told me earlier.’

‘No wonder. Had she said something back then, we could’ve been looking for this Westley all along.’

‘She promised Christina she wouldn’t say anything.’

‘Not good enough.’ Roy slammed his fist on the kitchen table and his face began to redden. ‘All this time she knew something and she didn’t say a word, not to us, not to the police. Did you ask the other kids about this Westley?’

Julia wiped a tear from her cheek. ‘I did, but no one had ever heard of him. What if someone has been grooming my girl and taken her? All the arguments we had, both of us… we drove her away. If she was happy, she wouldn’t have gone with him.’ Julia burst into tears and gripped Roy.

‘All the arguments were about her and it wasn’t just me moaning. The neighbours complained every five minutes, the school were always on at us. Are you really saying this is my fault?’

‘I never said that. You know I never said that.’

‘I’m sorry.’ He pulled her close to him and hugged her. ‘We will find her, I promise. We’ll call the police, tell them what you’ve found out. They may have heard of him. We’ll call the local papers, ask if anyone knows of a Westley who hangs around by the river. Here. Come on.’ He led her into the lounge and put the television on. ‘I’m going to make you a cup of tea, we’ll call the police and you can tell them what you know. If Christina’s friend does know more that she’s not telling, the police will get it out of her.’

Julia slumped into the armchair and stared blankly at the television screen as Roy went out to make a drink. A report came on the local news, something about an appeal, an unidentified girl being found in the Cleevesford area, between the age of fourteen and seventeen years old. The girl was now dead. ‘No!’ she yelled, hands shaking, heart hammering.

Roy ran in holding a teaspoon. His gaze followed hers until they were both staring at the screen. He kneeled down

and hugged her closely. ‘It’s not her. It can’t be her.’

‘She’s dead. My little girl is dead,’ the woman cried as she broke down.