Chapter 18: Chapter 18

FORTY

Gina threw her jacket over the filing cabinet in her office and wiped away the line of sweat that was forming at her brow. She wrestled with the creaky window, finally managing to fully open it. Hot breeze blew her hair over the front of her face, the light revealing her split ends. After this case, she was going to get a much-needed haircut but as always, her self-care was at the bottom of the list. Hair is just hair, she thought. It can wait. Solving the case or cases of their two dead girls was her priority and that started with familiarising herself with the one they’d identified, Simone Duxford.

She sat and shifted the mouse until the screen lit up. She put Roy’s name into the search bar and waited. He wasn’t on their system at all. Her mind wandered back to the morgue. There was definitely some tension between Roy and Julia.

She flicked back to the previous screen and Simone’s file flashed up along with an email notification. There was an update from O’Connor. Simone’s foster family, social worker and biological mother had been informed of her death. Bryn Tilly had been in to speak to them and had not shown any recognition of Simone Duxford, not of her name or photo.

Eighteen, nearly nineteen. Date of birth tenth of August 1999. Registered as living in foster care up until she was

eighteen. There was a note on the file. The foster family had wanted her to stay with them, but Simone hadn’t got on well with their children and had left after securing a hostel placement in Birmingham at the end of August that same year. Another note told her that Simone never checked into the hostel. Her foster family, the Smiths, reported her missing at this point but she later called them to say she was staying with friends. As she was an adult, they felt the only thing they could do was leave her to it.

Gina scanned Simone’s conviction file. There were three cautions for shoplifting in Birmingham and finally a conviction for theft of wallets in a nightclub in Birmingham. This resulted in an eight-week suspended sentence. Gina continued scanning Simone’s arrest notes. Simone had become tearful, stating that she had no choice as she’d needed money to fund her drug habit.

Gina scrolled down further. There was also a caution for soliciting outside a bar in Birmingham in October 2017. So many young people ended up like Simone. Out of the care system, into hostels or on the streets, with nowhere to go. Maybe she’d tried to reconnect with her blood relatives. Opening the family tab, Gina stopped on the passage that described her mother’s drug problem. Simone was removed from her care after a drug bust on her property revealed a dealing operation. Miss Duxford was only twenty-eight when her daughter was removed from her care and she’d never tried to maintain any relationship with her after that. She scrolled down further, trying to find out who Simone’s father was. There was no one registered.

Gina tried to put herself into Miss Duxford’s mindset. At fifteen she becomes pregnant and gives birth to Simone when she’s sixteen. Had she been disowned by her parents? Had the

father given her empty promises at the time, then failed to live up to them? Why hadn’t she registered him as the father? Maybe she didn’t know who he was. Was she assaulted? So many questions that maybe weren’t relevant to the investigation, or were they? Had Simone gone looking for her father? Who were the friends she was meant to be staying with? There was only one way to find out. She picked up her phone. ‘Wyre, we need to speak to Simone Duxford’s foster family. I know I tasked you and O’Connor with investigating this further, but I need to be there. It’s also important that one of you are with me to hear what is said and get straight onto follow ups when we get back. Despite what I said, I’ll still also be actively working both cases and keeping in mind that they are looking certain to be one case. Do either you or O’Connor want to come with me now? Simone Duxford’s foster family only live in Bromsgrove, so we won’t be too long.’ She heard Wyre relaying the message to O’Connor.

‘O’Connor said he’d like to go. I’m snowed under going through the masses of calls we’ve had and all the information from the door to doors.’

‘Any of it relevant?’

‘Not as yet, but they keep coming in thick and fast.’ ‘Right. Let O’Connor know I’ll be ready to leave in five.’

Gina hung up, powered her computer down and grabbed her phone.

FORTY-ONE

Gina took the right-hand turn into the estate on Bromsgrove as O’Connor played with his phone. It was an area she’d passed only a couple of weeks ago when she’d visited the High Street. She’d brought Gracie and sat outside, enjoying a coffee in the sun while her granddaughter played with her milkshake before tipping half into her lap. Gina almost grimaced at seeing the look on Hannah’s face when she returned the little girl. Her yellow-coloured dress had been splattered with chocolate milk and by the time she pulled up, given the heat, the milk had begun to take on a rancid smell that still lingered in her car. This time, though, she wasn’t going over the brow of the hill and into the centre for a leisurely morning, she was visiting the Smiths. Foster family of Simone Duxford.

The closely set houses followed the neat windy road, until they got closer. Gina paused and pulled up outside the Smith residence. ‘I hate these types of visit.’

‘Me too, guv,’ he said as he wiped the beads of sweat from his bald head with a crumpled tissue. ‘I hope they have a fan. I’m melting.’

The grass on the garden had dried out and the frontage looked like it could do with a clean and de-weed – a bit like

her own.

‘This is where Simone was placed in 2011 and had been her home until she left.’ She checked her notes. Mr Josh Smith, teacher of maths at a higher educational institute in Kidderminster. Mrs Angela Smith, currently working at Asda in Bromsgrove as a shop floor manager. They had two children of their own, twelve-year-old Chloe and fourteen-year-old Emily. The door opened as she went to knock.

‘Come in.’ Mr Smith stepped aside so that they could enter. ‘Can we get you a drink?’

‘Water would be lovely, thank you,’ Gina replied. O’Connor politely refused. Mr Smith took a seat at the head of the kitchen table. Mrs Smith placed a jug of water with a few slices of lemon in it on the table and placed a glass in front of her husband and Gina, before pouring it out. As Mrs Smith settled, Gina noticed the slight tremor of her fingers that lay on the table. Her eyes looked puffy and her face was pale and blotchy.

‘We’re finding this hard to take in, as you can see,’ Mrs Smith said.

Mr Smith looked into his lap and took a deep breath. ‘I know she wasn’t our biological daughter but we loved her like she was. Things had been far from easy but we never gave up on her, however hard she pushed us, and she did test us to our limits, didn’t she?’

Mrs Smith rubbed her eyes.

Mr Smith nodded. ‘I’d be lying if I said it was easy but that’s what we signed up for. We knew about her background and we wanted to make a difference. I tried to help her with homework, with career direction, but the anger and upset that

she carried, well it was hard to break through. It’s not like she went without, living here, with us. I know I’m only a maths tutor and my wife works at the supermarket, but we work hard. We earn a decent enough living. We keep a nice roof over our heads and don’t get into debt. We don’t go out drinking, we don’t smoke and we love our children.’

‘We don’t know what we did wrong with Simone and now we’ll never be able to fix things.’ Mrs Smith looked up as if trying to hold back tears of loss, guilt and confusion as to where it all went wrong.

Gina could see the painstaking thoughts that were going through both of their minds. Mrs Smith hugged her large frame, her scrunched up shoulders and arms providing a protective barrier between her and the feelings she was trying so hard to supress. Her shoulder-length brown hair, bronzed skin tone and dark eyes, gave her a Mediterranean look. Mr Smith cupped the one side of his stubbly chin with his hand, elbow on the table. He had a full head of grey hair, parted to one side.

‘Can you tell us a little about the relationship you had with Simone?’ Gina asked. She watched as O’Connor began searching in his pockets for a pen. She pulled hers from her bag and placed it on his notepad.

‘When she first came to stay with us, she was a quiet kid, really underweight and not in the best of places. She’d been through so much, so many things a child should never have to go through.’ Gina had read her files but she let Mr Smith continue as she wanted to hear what he had to say and get a fuller picture of their victim. ‘They told us that her mother was an addict and had invited a string of men to be a part of their life. The last one was the worst. Our poor girl had endured a

lot at his hand. She was found in a skinny, sorry state. She’d been abused sexually but we never knew the extent of how much. Simone would never say. She never told the social worker, the police or anyone else. We always told her she could talk to either of us at any time, day or night – that we were always here. We do know the last man her biological mother was with beat her. Poor girl was covered in bruises. She came to us in a state; battered, bruised, riddled with head lice and scabies.’

‘We just can’t believe this has happened to her. We knew she couldn’t settle and she was an almighty handful but we were hopeful. I know the girls found it harder over the last year Simone was with us…’ Mrs Smith paused.

‘How did your girls find it harder? Gina asked.

‘They were all clashing, especially when it comes to the bathroom. We have one family bathroom and had two teens and a preteen competing to use it, that’s without adding us to the equation. They argued every morning. Things even got nasty a couple of times. Emily had purposely left the shower running and locked herself in the bathroom, using all the hot water. Simone had lost her rag and shouted at her. It had ended with Emily throwing the fact that they weren’t real sisters at her, and because of that she deserved more bathroom time. It had been a bad spell and yet, despite their differences, Emily was so upset when Simone left, blamed herself for driving her away, said she didn’t mean what she said.

‘There was more to it though. Simone used to hang around with a load of losers from town, just kids but kids that smoked and drank a lot. I could sometimes smell weed on her and, of course, the confrontations over this just made everything worse. She started going into nightclubs and pubs, not coming

home. As I said, we’ve always provided for our family. I don’t know why she was the way she was. She basically told us where to go, said she’d had it with the girls and us trying to dictate rules to her when she was now eighteen. It wasn’t like that. We just cared for her. She’d been offered a place at a hostel and she was determined to take it. I wanted to go with her to see it but she said it was something she had to do alone. She never checked in to the hostel.’

‘What happened after that? Did you hear from her or see her?’

‘She called us a couple of times, normally after she’d been drinking. She said she was doing fine and had found somewhere to live. Around then, the police turned up to tell us that she’d been arrested for stealing wallets in nightclubs. She’d given them our address.’ Mrs Smith remained in thought. Gina spotted a tear welling up in the corner of her eye. She’d held it together well, Gina didn’t quite know how, but the woman was now beginning to crack. ‘That was the last time she called. I offered to go to court with her, help her, offered her bedroom back to her but she said she needed to do things on her own for a while. Said she’d call again soon and that she could handle it all. She then thanked me for being there. That was the last I, or indeed we, ever heard of her. I should have insisted. I should have turned up whether she wanted me there or not but I didn’t. I thought I was respecting her wishes and I suppose I thought she’d come back to us in her own time, when she’d got everything out of her system. We failed her!’ The woman wiped the trailing tear from her face. Her husband moved his chair closer to her and placed his arm around his wife.

‘You didn’t fail her, Mrs Smith. We are going to find out what happened to Simone. This is not your fault at all.’

However much she told Mrs Smith she was in no way to blame, she knew she’d always still blame herself. She would never see Simone again and never be able to make things right. However, Gina could get justice for Mrs Smith. She could find out who put Simone in that shallow grave, hoping she would never be found. She could find out how she got there and what she’d been through. She felt her knuckles clench under the table as she thought of the system, the underfunding and how it was letting vulnerable youngsters like Simone down. The girl had left with barely any support in place.

‘Can you please just find out what happened to her? We loved Simone and when her body is released, we are going to have a proper family funeral for her. Does her mother know?’ Mr Smith asked.

Gina nodded. ‘She has been informed. You may need to speak with her about any arrangements.’

‘That bitch caused all of this. Had she been a good mother not a raving junkie, this would never have happened. That woman didn’t deserve Simone. I wish she’d been our daughter from the start. She was ours.’ The man hugged his wife as she sobbed into his shoulders.

Mrs Smith pulled away from her husband and rubbed her eyes. ‘I still haven’t told our daughter, Emily. I don’t know how to tell her after all the bad feelings and arguing. She hated herself for what she’d said after Simone had left. This is going to destroy her.’

Gina was fully aware at how guilt could destroy a person. Ultimately, Emily would need help in forgiving herself. Families argued, that was normal. Families said hurtful things to each other. Hannah had hurt her on many occasions. If

something had happened to Gina, would Hannah be that wracked with guilt? She’d hope not. As someone who loved her, she’d simply hope that Hannah would grieve and move on. That’s what true love was, not controlling someone with guilt. Her mind flashed back to Terry and how he had always made her feel guilty at never loving him enough, controlling her as she constantly tried to prove him wrong. He’d left her with the ultimate guilt trip. She’d killed him and never paid the price. She was the real murderer in all this. If anyone should feel guilty, it should be her, and she did. Always guilty.

‘It will be hard but you need to be there for her.’ Gina said to the Smiths. ‘People always say things in the heat of the moment. We can be mean to each other, we all can, but Simone’s death was not Emily’s fault. Someone did this to her and I’m going to find out who it was.’ The only way she could help this family was to catch whoever did this and she would. They said their goodbyes. For now, she had what she needed.

The door closed behind them and Gina’s phone beeped. A message came through from Jacob.

We have a partial print – van girl forensics!

‘That’s good news. We need to hurry back. Also, when we get back, can you make a note to contact Miss Duxford, Simone’s biological mother? I know Wyre was unable to get hold of her after giving her the news. We need to speak to her.’

‘Will do, guv.’

Her heartbeat sped up with excitement, a partial print was just what they needed.

FORTY-TWO

Miley began to weep as she thought of what she’d left behind. She wanted to be free again, free to walk out, free to go and see her mother and free from addiction. Her hands shook as she wiped her face. She lay shivering on her bedroom floor, thinking back to how it all began.

Back then, she and her street friends were picking one of their targets. They watched the man as he went to light his cigarette. ‘You got this,’ the one girl said as she pushed Miley forward. ‘Stupid man doesn’t know where he’s going either, he’s walked past us three times already. Go get him, I think he fancies you anyway. Look, he’s staring at you.’ He tried again to light his cigarette, but his lighter had obviously ran out of fuel. The chilly air bit into her lungs as she inhaled.

Miley stepped forward avoiding the frozen puddle, her heart quickening as she stood before him. He gripped his lighter as he stared at her and a smile beamed across his face. She held out a lighter. ‘You want a light?’

‘You’re a lifesaver. It’s my only opportunity to have one in peace, without being nagged.’ She could see him looking at her hair. For a moment, she thought he might touch it, but he withdrew his hand and sucked on his cigarette, sending plumes

of smoke into the air. She guessed he might be a businessman given that he was wearing a shirt and a designer jacket. He wouldn’t miss the few quid he had in his pocket. If she could only find a way of slipping the shiny gold watch from his wrist

– no, too risky. She wasn’t skilled enough for that kind of trick.

‘I don’t suppose you can spare some change.’

The man stubbed the cigarette out on the floor after barely smoking half of it. ‘Walk with me.’

‘I, err, I don’t know.’ Something felt wrong. She glanced back and saw her two friends giggling behind the barrow, selling umbrellas.

‘I don’t bite. Do you want a cigarette?’

Miley shook her head as she walked alongside the man. It was a public street, heading up from New Street towards Symphony Hall and walking with him didn’t feel dangerous.

They passed a man sitting in a doorway of a long- abandoned shop. Wrapped in a quilt, shaking as he pleaded with his eyes for a bit of change. ‘People should work for their money, there are no free passes in life. These people stuffed up, they made their life choices and they ended up in the gutter. We all have choices. Don’t you agree?’

Miley reluctantly nodded and wondered if he had a low opinion of her. She had however given him a light, which had benefitted him. He turned slightly, his wallet sitting proud of his back pocket. She could grab it now, make a run for it. She held her hand out as he stared at the homeless man, her fingers almost reaching it.

He turned and she flinched. As her heart rate peaked, she knew her face was reddening.

‘I asked you a question. He stuffed up and now he’s in the gutter. Don’t you agree that it’s all his fault?’

She shrugged. ‘I don’t know. I guess we all have a different story.’

‘You can write your own story and someone like me can help you. I can be your guardian angel. I can give you the opportunity to turn your life around. A home, gainful employment, safety from the streets. You would regain your self-respect.’

‘What?’ Miley was confused. She’d gone from offering him a light while eyeing up his wallet, to being offered a way out. She wasn’t quite sure what he was getting at.

‘Can you spare some change?’ the homeless man called. His chocolate-coloured eyes threw a glassy stare as he pleaded for a few quid. The young man reached out with a dirty hand, smiling with an open mouth, displaying a dirty set of teeth, plagued with chips and gaps. ‘Anything will help, even ten pence.’

She watched as the man stepped back, not wanting his smart jeans contaminated by the young man’s filth.

She allowed the thought of a new life to run through her head. It seemed he was offering her a job. At the moment, she’d have to decline. She had her friends to think of and if they were all to eat that night, she needed his wallet. He was a tough target. Most were easy, a quick distraction and grab. She glanced back hoping to spot the other two. One of them should have caused a distraction by now. Through the corner of her eye, she spotted them giggling. Behind the man’s back, she stuck her two fingers up at them. They obviously thought it was hilarious. She was determined to win this one, with or without their help. That wallet was her target.

‘Get off me, you scrounging piece of shit,’ he said as he gave the homeless man a little kick with his shiny shoe. ‘Come on, let’s walk.’ She gave the young man a glance back as she followed her target up the street. He was clutching a carrier bag. She tried to peer around, into the bag as she kept up with his fast stride.

He continued walking towards Symphony Hall, passing several Big Issue sellers. ‘You haven’t answered my question. I’m offering you a new life.’

She looked away, awkwardly staring into the window of a shop. A warm bed and employment sounded tempting but could she trust him? Most people she’d come across when on the streets had been after one thing, her body. Would he take her to a brothel, force her to have sex for money and trap her, with no escape? ‘I don’t know.’

‘I had someone working for me, she was perfect, but she left for another job not long ago. I know what you’re thinking.’

She glanced at him.

‘You think I want to get you somewhere and maybe pimp you out. Or you think I’m a nutter, that I might rape you or imprison you. Let me put your mind at ease. I am just a normal person with a position to fill. I have no desire for your body, I just need a carer for a lovely lady whom I care deeply about and you look like a person I could trust. I’m not saying it’s an easy job but you could do it. It would be live in as she needs round the clock care.’

As he continued speaking, he told her about the woman who needed care, Jackie. ‘Why would you want me to do that? You don’t know me and how do you know you can trust me?’

‘There’s something about you. I feel I could trust you to treat her with dignity. You seem like a nice girl and you don’t look like you belong here with all these losers.’

She gulped as she thought of her friends. They worked as a team and that’s how they survived. She glanced at his wallet again. There’s no way she could snatch it now after he’d offered her such a good opportunity, even though she didn’t think she’d take the job.

He checked his watch. ‘Come with me. Check out our home and meet Jackie. You will love her, I promise. She’s such a wonderful lady.’

Her two friends darted from around a corner and bumped into them. Her distraction had finally arrived. He jerked to the side, to avoid impact. Now was Miley’s chance to snatch the wallet. A sick feeling churned in her stomach. The man had a sick relative and he’d approached her with an opportunity that might change her life. She grabbed her friend with the dyed red hair and pulled her close. ‘These are my friends. Apologise for bumping into him like that.’

‘Sorry, mister,’ her red-haired friend said as she giggled. Her other friend gazed through her blonde fringe poking out of her dirty cap and looked on suspiciously. Miley’s red-haired friend did her scruffy coat up and shivered as she fidgeted on the spot.

‘Forget it, I’m fine. Do you girls want a sandwich? You look hungry.’ The man pulled the pre-packed sandwiches out of his bag and thrust one into each of their hands, then passed them all a can of pop. ‘Thank you,’ Miley replied, noticing that the man seemed to be fixated on her friend’s hair.

‘You’re all welcome.’

Miley’s blonde-haired friend burped after swigging from the can.

‘Are you all homeless?’

‘I might be or I might not be.’ Her blonde friend replied as she guzzled more of the drink before taking a bite of the sandwich. As she chewed, bits of mulched up ham filled her mouth, making Miley feel slightly queasy.

‘I can help you, well two of you.’

Her blonde-haired friend piped up. ‘Really? Because the only help I get offered around here comes with conditions, conditions I’m not prepared to enter in to. So, that’s no to the blow job and I will not become your sex slave or engage in whatever perverse plan you think you have in store for me.’

‘Really? You’re young enough to be my daughter, maybe even my granddaughter if I started young. Life is all about give and take and I definitely wouldn’t try to disrespect any of you in that manner. What I have to give might just be worth taking.’

‘Go on then. Give us what you’ve got?’

‘I’m looking to employ two people and they will be provided with a room and three meals a day. It is gainful employment and will involve a lot of, shall we say, domestic duties.’

‘Domestic slaves, I’ve heard of them. Do I look like I was born yesterday?’

Miley nudged her blonde friend. She was about to blow it for all of them. ‘If you’re not interested, go away and give us the chance. If you are, listen to what he has to say.’

He cleared his throat and smiled. ‘It’s good that you don’t trust everyone. There are some dangerous people about, but I’m really not one of them. I’m looking for employees, not slaves. It’s a good opportunity to get off the streets and make something of yourself. You’d like to make something of yourself, wouldn’t you?’

‘Not with your help. Stay away from me.’ The blonde girl paused and looked around. People walked by, ignoring them. That was the worst thing about being homeless, no one took a blind bit of notice. Crowds walked past, getting on with their bland lives. Work, shopping, keeping kids placated. ‘I’ve heard of your type before. If you don’t go away, I’m going to shout paedophile and point at you before I run. These people don’t see a thing all day. They walk past, pretend they haven’t seen me but the minute I start drawing attention to you… they’ll look at you. They won’t believe me, of course, but they will think about it and remember the way you look. If they see you again, they’ll make that connection.’ She stared at him with her blue eyes and pointed. ‘There’s the paedo. Do you hear me?’ It wasn’t quite loud enough for the passers-by.

‘Keep it down. He’s offering me a job, for heaven’s sake. I don’t want to be out here, stuck in the cold forever,’ Miley said.

‘Yeah, me neither,’ her red-haired friend replied as she stuffed the rest of her sandwich in her mouth.

‘I know you don’t know me and you probably don’t trust me, but just give me a chance. Come with me. Have a look at the rooms, meet the lovely lady who you will care for and then make your decision.’

‘Do what you like, but I’m not going anywhere with him,’ the blonde girl said.