It was already half past five by the time the LAC review came to an end. The review meetings for looked-after children were always the same — the chair would spend hours going over all areas of the child’s life to make sure they were doing as well as they possibly could, despite being in foster care. The kids hated the review, and I didn’t blame them; they were unbearably boring at times.
The chair had made an example out of me for my tardiness. The meeting had been due to start at half one, but I hadn’t made it until quarter past two. Instead of starting without me, the chair had made everyone sit and wait, which had resulted in the whole room glaring at me when I finally rushed in.
I’d apologised profusely for being late. The drive to Leeds and back had been a nightmare. I’d hit problems on every single A road; first, I had gotten stuck behind a huge tractor on the A47, then I’d caught the rush hour traffic on the A17 and, just to top it off, there had been an accident on the A1. By the time I arrived, I only had half an hour to spend with Ellie before heading back again.
I glanced at my watch at the end of the review and mentally figured out what time I’d get home if I left work straight away. It was so tempting, but I needed to check that Carly was okay. Thanks to the disastrous TV Today interview, her family’s tragic story was all over the media again. I sighed as I headed to the car. I wouldn’t get home until gone seven, but, hey, then it would be the end of the week.
Carly opened the door to her foster home. She had a look of hardened resilience about her — downtrodden, but carrying on. Her eyes were slightly glazed over, as if separated from her emotions. She’d dyed her hair again. The last I’d seen her it was bright red, but now it was dark, a very similar brown to Teigan’s.
“Oh, I like your hair. Thanks for seeing me today, Carly. I just wanted to check how you are doing, after yesterday.”
“Okay. I guess.”
I followed Carly through to the middle room. The house was exactly the same architectural layout as mine, except they’d put the TV and sofa in the middle room and had made the front area the dining room instead. It was all very clean and tidy, and an overwhelming smell of lemon zest cleaning products filled my senses as we walked through.
“Is Anita in?”
“Nah, she’s at Asda.” Carly sank on to the navy sofa. She looked up at me, waiting for me to get to the point.
“So,” I perched on the armchair opposite her. “You saw it, then?”
“Well, not exactly. But everyone was sharing the YouTube link on Facebook. They all know it was a local case and stuff. Timmy’s old best friend was sharing it, slagging the system off, and giving it all that about how he’s going to ‘avenge him’ and shit.”
The knot in my stomach tightened. There’d been a lot of those sort of comments when it first happened. Hate mail, calls for punishment. It was awful. Now Nancy Thompson had stirred it all up again, and it was Carly who would suffer.
“I’m so sorry, Carly. If I’d had known they were going to pull at that thread, I’d never have gone on the show.”
She shrugged her shoulders, her black skull t-shirt slipping as she did so, revealing her skinny upper arm. “Not your fault. People just get all stupid and want an excuse to throw shade at the system.”
I was impressed with her understanding and maturity. Despite the personal blame I placed on myself for Timmy’s fate, Carly had never voiced such an opinion. She’d understood that foster care was still better than home — for them — and that Timmy and Rhys’ actions couldn’t have been prevented. She hadn’t looked for someone to blame, her good nature just accepting the fact that sometimes bad things happen. And sometimes horrific things happen.
“True, but still, I’m very sorry it’s been dragged up again. It can’t be easy for you.”
Carly nodded, silently accepting my apology. She started biting her lip, which was pierced on the left with a silver hoop. “So, it’s my birthday next week.”
“Of course.” I was grateful for the change in topic. “You’ll be fifteen, won’t you?” I knew that was the case, as she was only a couple of months older than Teigan. They were the same school year, but were living very different lives.
“Mm-hmm, the same age Timmy was when he … you know.”
“Yes,” I said. It was all I could manage. Rhys’ distressed face shot into my mind, as I’d dragged him away from the body of his brother, screaming for the foster carer to call an ambulance. He’d struggled, kicking and yelling, while I had plugged his own wounds with whatever I could think of. My cardigan tied round his wrists, my hands pressing down, trying to ease the bleeding. That was the last time I’d seen him. They’d taken him off my caseload immediately after that day.
“I’d like to see Rhys. Can you set up a contact?”
I was surprised, as I wasn’t expecting that. “Oh, well, Rhys is twenty, so he’s no longer under our care. He’s an adult now, according to law.”
“So?”
“So, Children’s Services doesn’t work with him any more. But there’s no restrictions on your contact or anything — you guys can just set it up yourselves. You don’t need our permission.”
Carly’s green eyes blurred with tears. She was haunted by her own memories. “I know, but he hasn’t replied to my texts for ages, and he won’t pick up the phone.” Her bottom lip started to tremble, the silver hoop twinkling as it caught the light. “I don’t even know where he lives now.”
My heart swelled in compassion. I really felt for her. She had no one else, and now her big brother was ignoring her, the only family she had left. I sat down next to her on the sofa and softened my voice.
“Oh, Carly. I’m sorry. How long has it been since you heard from him?”
She sniffed and wiped her nose with her sleeve. “I don’t know, like, a few months.”
Hm. That didn’t sound good. The last I’d heard Rhys had gone a bit “off the rails,” as they say. He was probably in with a bad crowd or involved in some dodgy business. Either way, if he was up to no good, it was probably best to keep Carly away from him. But he was her brother, so I had to try. She deserved that, at least.
“Tell you what, I’ll check his last known address in the system on Monday. His most recent social worker might have known it, depending on when he moved. And if not, I’ll let the police know we’ve got some concerns. They’ll be able to track him down, no problem. He’s probably just being a typical boy, rubbish at texting back.”
She let out a little laugh through her tears.
“I’ll let you know by the end of Monday, okay?”
“Special delivery!” I shouted, as I shut the front door behind me. Ten to seven — I’d made pretty good time, really. I let out a sigh of relief; I was finally reaching the end of the terrible week.
“Teig?” I called upstairs. “I got Domino’s. Pepperoni Passion — your favourite!”
Silence. I dumped the pizza box on the coffee table and trudged upstairs, knocking loudly on her bedroom door. She was playing Justin Bieber. Again.
“Teigan, did you hear me? I’ve got pizza.”
I gave up and went to open the door, expecting to rattle the locked doorknob until she came and opened it, except that it wasn’t locked. It opened straight away. To an empty room.
The Norfolk & Norwich festival leaflets were on the beige carpet, where I’d passed them under the door. They were untouched. I looked around and realised that her red lamp was on, just as it had been the night before. A chill ran through me as Justin Bieber’s “Love Yourself” started to play. Was it possible the light and music had been left on since Thursday morning?
I walked briskly across to my room to unplug my phone from the charger. After rushing off to Leeds this morning, I’d completely forgotten to unplug it and take it with me. The battery was probably fried from overcharging. As I turned it on, the green box popped up.
Four missed calls from SCHOOL.
I froze. School never called unless there was a problem. Just as I went to listen to the voicemail, there was a knock at the door. I hurried downstairs, keeping the phone clutched in my hand, silently praying that it was Teigan at the door and that maybe she had lost her keys.
I flung it open, to the sight no one ever wants to see. Two police officers.
“Oh, God, what’s happened? Is it Teigan? Is she in hospital? Has there been an accident?”
It was the male one who spoke first. He was young, probably mid-twenties, with a fresh face and a hopeful expression. He gestured proudly at his uniform as he spoke. “Ms Walker, I’m Teddy Carson, a Police Community Support Officer for the area. This is my colleague, Detective Constable Rebecca Reynolds. Can we come in?”
“What’s going on? Is Teigan OK?”
“Your daughter’s school contacted us today, Ms Walker, explaining that they’ve been trying to get hold of you for two days, but to no avail.” This time it was DC Rebecca Reynolds who spoke. She was Scottish and had a beautiful accent of rolling “R”s. She was also young, although seemingly older than the PCSO.
“I left my personal phone on charge in my room, and I forgot to grab it. I just tend to use my work phone.” I looked from DC Rebecca Reynolds to PCSO Teddy Carson, desperate for more information. “Please, just tell me. What’s going on?”
DC Rebecca Reynolds gestured to Teddy that she was going to take the lead. He nodded curtly. “When did you last see your daughter, Ms Walker?”
“Yesterday morning … before school.” I gulped — that didn’t sound good, for a start.
“Right … So, can I ask why you haven’t reported your fourteen-year-old daughter missing yet?” Her voice was packed with judgment. The sort of judgment I often secretly held towards parents who sent their children to school dirty and unfed.
“Missing?” I almost choked on the word. “She isn’t … she can’t be …”
“Teigan hasn’t been at school for two days. In fact, she hasn’t been seen by anyone since Wednesday — except you say you saw her yesterday morning?”
I couldn’t nod. I was frozen to the spot, trying to process the words coming out of her mouth.
“Which makes you the last person to have seen her,” the PCSO chipped in. “I know this must be very difficult, but we’re going to need to ask you some questions about that encounter.”
Encounter? Why was he using that word? It made it sound so … threatening. Did they know we’d argued? I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to focus. All I could see was that look of hurt on Teigan’s face, then the darkness clouding over.