I opened the door to DC Rebecca Reynolds, knowing full well that I looked a state. It was Saturday afternoon already, but after spending all night trawling through Teigan’s laptop, I’d eventually fallen asleep on her bed at nine o’clock in the morning. Her sheets smelt like her, that mixture of perfume and hairspray with an edge of coconut — the body butter from The Body Shop that she smothered herself in every day. I’d snuggled myself up in her blankets, carefully taking in the familiar aromas, hoping I wouldn’t use them all up.
“Afternoon, Ms Walker. How are you doing?” DC Rebecca Reynolds asked with a sympathetic smile. “I’ve brought my colleague along today.”
Her colleague was clearly more senior than she was. He was in plain clothes, for starters. He looked like he was in his early forties, unless perhaps he was still in his thirties, but hadn’t aged too well. His hairline was receding, the dark flecked with the odd grey, but his eyebrows remained thick and dark. He nodded and offered a brief handshake as he introduced himself. “Afternoon. I’m Detective Sergeant Anthony Clarke. I’ll be overseeing the investigation into your daughter’s disappearance from now on.”
His words made the hairs on the back of my neck prickle. So now it was a full-blown investigation. “I haven’t heard anything from her or any of her friends.” My throat was hoarse from not speaking to anyone for hours. I cleared it as best I could. “Has anyone contacted you from the appeal?”
DS Clarke shook his head. “Unfortunately not, Ms Walker. Can we come inside?” There was something familiar about him, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. I wondered if we’d crossed paths at an ASBAG meeting at some point. Every once in a blue moon it fell on me to be the Children’s Services representative at the Anti-Social Behavioural meeting.
I stepped back, allowing them inside before picking up the bracelet from the coffee table and presenting it to DS Clarke. “I found this last night in her bedroom. I don’t know where it came from. Do you think she’s with whoever gave this to her? Is there a way to trace where it came from?” I knew I was talking too quickly, but I couldn’t help it.
DS Clarke held his hands up to signal for me to slow down.
“May I see?” said DC Reynolds, putting on evidence gloves and taking the bracelet carefully from my hands. She studied it for a moment before putting it in an evidence bag. “It’s quite good quality. Expensive, probably.”
I nodded. “But is there a way to find out who gave it to her? She’s not with the friends I’m familiar with, her phone’s not even ringing any more–”
“Hang on, Ms Walker, please. Is her phone dead? Is that what you’re saying?”
“Yes, yes. It was ringing out before, but now it’s just cutting straight to voicemail.”
“Hm.” DS Clarke scratched the back of his head as he gazed at the bracelet.
“What?” My voice came out stretched and panicky.
“Well, am I right in thinking you said she has her phone charger with her? That she usually takes it in her school bag?”
“Ah, yes,” DC Reynolds nodded. “That’s what you said yesterday, wasn’t it? And her charger wasn’t in her room.”
A sense of dread crept up on me. She hadn’t been able to charge her phone. What did that mean? “Are you suggesting she’s being prevented from contacting me? That she hasn’t just run away?”
DS Clarke waved his hands and shook his head. “No, no. Please don’t get ahead of yourself. There’s a million and one reasons why a phone dies. The most likely answer is indeed that Teigan has run off, as a result of your argument. And, yes, looking at this bracelet it certainly wouldn’t be out of the realm of possibility that she’s with a young man or boyfriend of some sort. Are you aware of your daughter being in a relationship?”
I took a deep breath in an attempt to calm myself before explaining about the rumours from Poppy’s mother. About what Poppy had said about the older guys Teigan and Krystal were apparently hanging out with. I explained all about hacking into her Facebook page the night before and the list I made of all the unknown names and suspicious-looking profiles I’d come across. I told him how I’d managed to get into Teigan’s Instagram, as well, but couldn’t find any incriminating pictures of her with older guys. The only thing I didn’t tell him was the last thing I saw before I fell asleep. It was that look of hurt on her face. Hurt I had caused …
Once they’d left, I headed out for a walk. I had to get out of the house. I bundled myself up in a coat and my ankle boots, the weather having taken a sudden turn for the worse. I found myself walking Teigan’s journey to school in an attempt to be closer to her. As I stood on the pavement, waiting for the lights to change, I stared up at the Cathedral of St John the Baptist. It towered over me, the almost golden spires brightening up the otherwise mundane Earlham Road. I took it in before shutting my eyes for a moment, praying to myself that Teigan was alright.
As I crossed the road towards Chapelfield Gardens — I knew Teigan always cut through this way — I tried to remind myself of all the reasons to stay positive. There’s no evidence of foul play, I told myself. We had an argument, so it’s entirely plausible that she has run off to punish me, but is perfectly safe. I winced again at the memory of Teigan’s words. Did she really feel as though I didn’t care?
The spring flowers were starting to open in Chapelfield Gardens; they would be in full bloom for the N&N festival in May. I hoped, more than anything, that Teigan and I would be at the festival together this time next month. Her disappearance would all just be a horrible memory that I was glad to see the back of. I walked along the edge of the park, replaying the voice of my own mother in my head. Keep looking up to the sun, my little petal. It’ll be all right, I told myself. This would all be okay in the end. It had to be.
My thoughts were interrupted by an over-excited dog that looked like a white-haired vizsla. He came bounding over to the bed of roses I was standing beside. The dog half jumped into the shrubbery, barking with excitement.
“Rosy! Rosy, come here!” A woman in her fifties came over. “Get out of the bushes, you.”
I smiled down at the dog and went to walk away, just as the dog pulled something from the bushes. I froze, stunned. There, in between its jaws, was an i-Phone. An i-Phone in a rainbow-coloured case.
“Wait,” I nearly shrieked. “That’s …”
“Oh, goodness, that’s not your phone, is it? Did you drop it? Oi, Rosy, drop it, you.” The lady took the phone out of the dog’s mouth. “Oh goodness, she didn’t do all that just then, did she?”
I shook my head, numb, as she passed me the phone. It was exactly the right model, with the exact same rainbow case, except, now, the screen was shattered. I stared down at it, fear turning to ice in my veins.
I knew one thing for certain. Teigan wouldn’t willingly be separated from her phone.