1st December 2019
Afternoon
‘Ms Chambers, thank you for taking the time to come in today,’ PC Hastings said, his smile designed to be disarming, though it was anything but. He looked at me like he wanted to hurt me. He’d scared me a little last time I was at the station and unnerved me further in the way he looked at me in the pub. But things had changed. I could feel he was no longer the ‘big man’ on the case. I caught the news. There was a new face in front of the cameras; a new DCI from a larger force who had stepped in to lead the investigation, one designed to handle cases like this. A woman, and Hastings seemed the type to hate that his new boss was female, and that made him dangerous now, unpredictable.
‘Not at all,’ I smiled back. ‘I want to help in any way I can.’
‘Well, we appreciate that. Please, make yourself comfortable.’
I knew it wasn’t standard practice for a police officer to ask you to come to the station for ‘a chat’. He should have come to my dad’s house instead. I suspected he wanted the formality of it, flexing the little power he now held. He needed to be on his own turf.
‘I suspect you’re wondering why I wanted to talk?’
‘Because Baz is missing.’
‘You mean Dr Barry McBride. Yes, partly.’
‘Do you know anything about what is going on?’ I countered.
‘Why don’t you tell me what you know,’ he said. Our little game of chess was well underway.
‘I know my friends are going missing. I know that with both Jamie and Georgia, it looks like foul play. And Baz, let’s just hope…’
‘Hope what, Ms Chambers?’
‘Hope he decided to leave, rather than anything else.’
‘What, like you did?’
‘Yes, like I did.’ I felt indignant. ‘Are we here to talk about what’s happening now, or what happened over twenty years ago?’
‘In my mind, Ms Chambers, I think they are part of the same question.’ He smiled again before standing. ‘I think it’s curious that more people are going missing since you have returned. I asked your friends about this earlier, Michael and Holly, they found it curious too.’ His tone had shifted, and his words felt rehearsed. I started to wonder if he had ever questioned anyone before, because everything he was doing felt like it came from some TV cop show.
‘Are you implying…’
‘I’m implying nothing, just curious. And I’m wondering how to interpret the curiosity.’
He’s trying to use my friends against me. Fucking. Wanker.
‘Perhaps you could start by looking into the Drifter?’
‘Ah yes, I wondered how long it would take for him to come up. Neve – may I call you Neve?’
‘Sure.’
‘Tell me more about him.’
‘Well, as I’ve said, I’ve seen him in the woods…’
‘I’m sorry, let me be clear, tell me about him from 1998.’
‘Why?’
‘I’m trying to get a picture of who this man is.’
‘So, you believe me now?’
He didn’t answer but watched me from behind his desk.
‘I don’t know what I can say that’s not been documented already.’
‘Yes, I’ve looked at your statements from back then.’
‘They’re probably more helpful than me trying to remember.’
He ignored my comment and turned his back to me, realigning a picture on the wall. ‘There was a lot of myth surrounding what happened to Chloe, and it was fuelled by this idea of the Drifter being a ghost from the mine.’
‘I never said it was a ghost.’
‘Not directly, no. You spoke of a man shrouded in shadow, moving only at night. And then Chloe went missing. And this Drifter – who you and your friends independently say you saw – vanishes without a trace, and Chloe is never found.’
‘I don’t know what to say.’
‘I thought that she was down the mine, that whoever took her left her down there. There was no evidence to suggest anything of the sort. And as you know, the tunnels were searched. But we couldn’t search everywhere, too many unsafe places. Too many unfinished tunnels. Still. I’ve always wondered.’
‘How can I help you, PC Hastings?’ I said, my thoughts on what Thompson said the night before.
‘Where did you see this man – this Drifter – back then?’
‘I saw him near the mine mostly. Sometimes in the woods nearby. You know this.’
‘And now, where have you claimed to see him?’
I didn’t like the way he stressed the word ‘claimed’. ‘In the woods and outside my father’s house.’
‘And you’re confident, this is different to your “episode” in 2003 when—’
‘I know what happened to me in 2003. And yes, I am.’
‘So, a few more places then. I mean, different places to back then.’
‘Yes, a few more places.’
‘It’s just you’re the only one to have seen him?’
‘Yes, I am.’
‘Curious. What I don’t understand is, why would he return after twenty-one years? Why now?’
‘I’m hoping you will find that out.’
‘That’s the plan.’ He smiled again, the same fox-like grin. It was wiped off his face quickly when someone entered the room without knocking.
‘Hastings,’ a voice said behind me, a female voice. I turned to see a middle-aged woman, high cheekbones and strong green eyes, hands in her pockets. She smiled towards me, and then looked back at Hastings, who I could tell was squirming.
‘This is Neve Chambers,’ he said.
She offered her hand and introduced herself – I didn’t catch her name, but knew it was the same woman I briefly caught on TV this morning after Hastings’ five minutes of fame. The DCI from elsewhere.
‘I was just asking her about when she last saw Dr McBride,’ he offered without being asked, and I had to hide my smile at how pathetic he really was.
‘I see, and when was that?’ the DCI asked.
‘Last night, we met for a drink,’ I replied.
‘We?’
‘Dr McBride, Michael, Holly and me.’
‘Could anyone corroborate this?’
‘Yes, the pub was busy. Heaving. PC Hastings was even there,’ I added, knowing I might regret it.
‘I see,’ she said, looking over me at him. Her expression said more than words could.
‘Well, Ms Chambers, thank you for coming down. Sorry to take up your time,’ she said, offering her hand. I stood and took it; it was firm, commanding. She oozed confidence and control and I wished I could be a fly on the wall after I left.
‘If I can do anything else to help?’ I said.
‘Thank you. We have your number?’ She looked again at Hastings who must have nodded. ‘Good. Keep your phone on, so I can get hold of you when I have any news, or have any more questions?’
‘Of course.’
‘And if you can think of anything, please don’t hesitate to call the station.’
‘I won’t,’ I lied, for the second time in under twenty-four hours.
I dismissed myself without saying goodbye and walked towards the bus stop to catch the bus back to the village. As I waited, I messaged Holly and Michael.