CORE MEMBERS OF the Murder Investigation Team were sitting in a semi-circle in the centre of the incident room, lights dimmed, no civilian personnel present. DC Lisa Carmichael looked as though she wanted to punch someone. It was an appalling state of affairs but, like it or not, age had a bearing on how any police force dealt with missing children.
‘Hank, you up for driving to Hull?’ Kate took in Gormley’s nod. ‘Maxine O’Neil’s parents need telling and I’d like to be the one to do that before they find out from some arsehole blabbing to the press. Who spoke to Humberside?’
DC Maxwell raised a finger.
‘What enquiries were made?’ the DCI asked. ‘How far did they take it?’
‘That’s difficult to say. The parents maintained she was a lovely kid. Not the type to go off on her own. There was no fight. No argument beforehand. Others said different.’
Kate’s interest grew. ‘Go on.’
‘There were rumours,’ Maxwell said.
‘Kind of rumours?’
‘Information from her mates that there was another side to her.’
‘The school bike, you told us,’ Carmichael made a face.
Maxwell shot her a look. ‘Humberside’s description, Lisa. Not mine.’
‘Sounds like yours.’
‘Yeah, well it wasn’t.’
‘Oi! Cut it out, you two! Look, we’re all tired. But we need to focus, now more than ever.’ Kate’s eyes were on Maxwell. ‘And the upshot was?’
‘They did what they could but their enquiries came to a dead end.’ His face flushed as he realized his choice of words might’ve been better.
‘Did they do a reconstruction?’ Kate wanted to know. ‘Because if they didn’t, we might need to.’
‘Not sure.’
‘Find out. Lisa, phone Humberside. Let them know we’re on our way. I want the missing-person form and the file faxed up here immediately. I want you lot to grab a couple of hours’ kip at the B & B and then come straight back here. I expect a broad antecedent history by the time I return. Any links with this area, any links with Bamburgh in particular. OK, that’s it. You know the drill.’
‘SO I’M WASTING my time then,’ Emily glared at the young PC.
‘I’m not saying that, and I can see how distressed you are. But we’ve got to wait a while before we proceed further.’ The PC glanced at his watch, his eyes darting to Jo as he looked up. Then he turned his attention to Emily. ‘It’s barely eleven o’clock, Mrs McCann. She’s only been gone a few hours. You’re far better going home. If Rachel isn’t there by morning, by all means, contact us again. Why don’t you give her another call now?’
‘I’ve phoned her umpteen times and got no answer,’ Emily wailed.
‘Did you know she’d not been in college this afternoon?’
Emily gave a resigned nod.
The PC flipped his notepad open. ‘And did you also know she’d called her friend Susan Myers at four o’clock?’
‘Did she? Susan never mentioned it to me.’
The PC shrugged. ‘According to her, you never asked.’
‘No,’ Emily said. ‘I don’t suppose I did.’
‘Miss Myers was in a lecture when the call came in. She wasn’t able to pick up but it was definitely Rachel’s number. She read it back to me . . .’ The officer shifted his gaze to Jo, then to Emily. ‘Your daughter has a new boyfriend, Mrs McCann. His name is Vic.’
Emily went quiet.
It was the killer blow Jo had been waiting for. She squeezed Emily’s hand. The PC might be very young but he was pretty switched on. Given the fruits of his enquiries he had good grounds to doubt Emily’s version of events. Maybe he was right to do so. Rachel had been stroppy, secretive, and downright disobedient of late. She’d come in drunk several nights running since her mother had returned to work. Was it any wonder she wasn’t thinking straight? Her story sounded farfetched, even to Jo.
MAKING ARRANGEMENTS TO meet their Humberside colleagues early next morning, Daniels and Gormley grabbed their coats and left the incident room for the long drive south.
‘You got the sample?’ she asked.
Gormley patted his jacket pocket and nodded his head.
‘I’ll have to ask the girl’s parents about the pearls whether I like it or not, and a whole lot more besides . . .’ As the DCI pushed through the door into the corridor her mobile rang. Cursing, she took the phone from her pocket, pressed to answer and lifted it to her ear.
‘DCI Daniels,’ she barked. ‘What is it? I can’t talk now.’
‘Can you call me later then?’ Jo asked.
‘Oh, sorry. Actually no, yes . . . maybe, I don’t know.’ A thought popped into Kate’s head. ‘Hold on!’ She grabbed Gormley’s arm, stopping him in his tracks, not bothering to cover the speaker. ‘Wonder if Munro knows about Maxine O’Neil?’
‘He’s bound to,’ Gormley said. ‘You want me to ring him before we set off?’
‘No, it’s OK, I have his number in here.’ She pointed at her phone with her free hand. ‘C’mon, you can bell him on the way.’ As they left via the rear exit, Jo’s voice was drowned out by the din from a passing ambulance. ‘Sorry, Jo. Didn’t catch that. What did you say?’
‘I said, that’ll be a no then.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ Kate pressed her key fob and the lights on the Q5 blinked as the door locks clunked open. She climbed in and started the engine. ‘Hey, look, I’m sorry. Something’s come up. I’m flat-out here.’
‘Fine!’ Jo’s voice filled the roomy interior of the Q5. ‘Sorry I bothered you.’
‘Don’t be daft . . .’ Kate hadn’t figured on a public row. But as soon as she turned her key in the ignition, her mobile had switched to the hands-free system. She tried to ignore the heat of Gormley’s eyes on the side of her head and the sarcastic remark that followed, an observation about Jo being in a strop and laying the blame at her feet. Resisting the temptation to rip into him, Kate said, ‘Take no notice of Hank. Just believe me when I tell you it’s important.’
‘It always is,’ Jo said. ‘Shame you care more for the dead than the living.’
Kate winced. ‘How is Emily?’ she asked, sheepishly.
The dial tone hit her ear as Jo put down the phone.
‘Great answer,’ Kate muttered, pulling away.
‘Mind if I ask you a serious question?’ Hank said.
She looked at him. ‘Fill your boots.’
‘Do all dykes argue 24/7?’
Kate didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.