Following my confirmation of Ray “Dopeman” Arthur’s identity, the IT guy had scuttled off, and I’d found myself back inside the stuffy room with DS Clarke. I pulled off my cardigan and started twisting the sleeves in my hands, stretching the fibres as far I could. My mind was racing. How could this have happened?
“I’m sorry. Talk me through this again, Ms Walker.” DS Clarke was sitting opposite me again, with an almost bemused expression on his face. He, too, had rolled up his sleeves in a bid to cool down. “You had a child with this man, but you didn’t recognise his name when searching Teigan’s Facebook?”
I shook my head. This wasn’t happening. It couldn’t be. Fourteen years of absolutely nothing — no phone calls, no texts, no letters, no payments … nothing. Only to find out he’d been having secret conversations with my daughter. My daughter, not his. I refused to acknowledge that Teigan was Ray’s daughter, too. To me, a father should be there for you, to support you and fiercely protect you. He’d rather die than let anyone hurt his little girl. Ray was none of that — he didn’t even know her.
“I knew him as Ray Jackson; that’s his real name. I haven’t spoken to or heard from the man in fourteen, going on fifteen, years.” The day that he walked away flashed in front of me. It was raining, of course, in true tragic style. He said he couldn’t be part of it any more. I never fully knew what he meant by that. But I suspected that he’d known what I’d done. The pain on his face had been clear; he didn’t want to walk away from his daughter, but he couldn’t bring himself to fight to stay any longer.
My nostalgia was cut short by a cough from DS Clarke. “Sorry. So, yes, when Ray “Dopeman” Arthur popped up on the screen, how could I have known it was him?”
“Well, the first name is a clue.”
I shot DS Clarke my best dagger stare and ignored his comment. “Have you tracked him down yet? If she’s been talking to him, he may know where she is. She could even be with him, for all we know.” The image of the two of them together floated into my mind, laughing about their father-daughter time and how surprised I would be. I shivered. It didn’t seem right, not after all this time. He had backed off years ago; why should he have a relationship with her now?
DS Clarke clasped his hands together, resting them on the table. “We have his address. It’s in the town of Diss. DC Reynolds and I will be heading there shortly.”
Diss? He still lived there then. He hadn’t even moved in fifteen years. He was probably doing the same old stuff for the same people. He had always wanted a simple life, after all. I’d always wanted more, but, now, I couldn’t help but envy some simplicity and routine.
“The active messages on their Facebook conversation were just general chit-chat, as you’ve seen. But we’ve traced it back to all the archived messages. Are you aware they’ve been in contact for nearly a year?”
I stood up, bashing my legs on the underside of the table as I did so. “A year? Are you joking?” My cheeks flushed red with indignation. How could I possibly not have known this was going on for an entire year? I was meant to have good observational skills, for Christ’s sake.
“No, I’m not joking,” said DS Clarke, who remained seated. “Are you sure there were never any signs they’d been in touch? Teigan asking more about her dad all of a sudden?”
“No … nothing.” I started to pace back and forth, running my fingers through my hair as a slideshow of images from the last year projected through my mind. Had I missed clues? Had Teigan tried to tell me? There was that time she got disproportionately annoyed about a comment I made about absent fathers … had she been building this relationship with him then? Suddenly defensive for her castaway father? Perhaps I had been too caught up in myself — in work and the Walker Foundation. Or, even worse, she had successfully kept something this significant completely hidden from me, without ever raising suspicion. Nancy Thompson’s words echoed in my ears. “You believe your daughter tells you everything? … Then, you, quite frankly, are an idiot.”
DS Clarke was looking at me in that intense way again. Half judgment at my incompetence as a parent, half pity for the bombshells which were being dumped on me. “It’s a bit of a running theme, you not knowing what is going on in your daughter’s life. You thought she wasn’t dating anyone?”
“She wasn’t. At least, I didn’t think she was … until I found the bracelet.” My voice was weak. Maybe the bracelet had been given to her by her dad? A bum he may be, but a harmless one, at least. I’d much prefer he’d given her the bracelet, rather than some manipulative, smarmy lad with an agenda.
DS Clarke sighed as he pulled out a piece of paper. “Her phone records suggest otherwise. Before you get excited, I’m afraid this number has since gone out of use on all networks. The last known GPS location was right by the river, suggesting it was chucked in from somewhere around the Riverside complex. But, before it went out of action, she had various messages from someone saved as ‘xoxo.’ It’s meant to mean hugs and kisses, so I’m told.”
I nodded in agreement, waiting for the next blow as I stood rooted to the spot.
DS Clarke cleared his throat and read in a somewhat awkward tone. “Sent last weekend: ‘Can’t wait to see you again, babe, you looked gorgeous today. PS, glad you love the bracelet.’ The Thursday before that: ‘You’re so much more real than those girls, babe, you’re so mature and classy. That’s why you need a guy like me. A real man.’ There are lots of them. Most interestingly, the one sent Wednesday evening, the day before she went missing. ‘Can’t wait for this weekend, babe, it’s going to be mint. Our little secret, though, yeah?’”
The terrifying thought that I’d been trying to suppress forced itself to the forefront of my disoriented mind. What if this guy, this “real man,” had convinced Teigan into a secret weekend away? But, what if, in fact, it wasn’t a weekend away at all? My head filled with everything I knew about child sex trafficking and forced prostitution. God, no, please no. My blood pressure was dropping rapidly, that prickly feeling creeping through my body as my head became lighter and lighter.
“Ms Walker, are you all right?”
There was concern in his voice, and as my vision started to fade, I saw his blurred silhouette leap up from his seat and move towards me. Within a moment, the dizziness took over, and I crashed to the floor, my mind and body physically unable to take any more.