THE JOURNEY NORTH was trouble free. Not so, the grovelling apology to Jo when Kate found out that Rachel McCann still hadn’t resurfaced. It had been twenty-four hours since her last contact with anyone – the phone call to her college friend, Susan Myers, at four o’clock the previous day.
‘Did Emily ring round her friends again?’ she asked.
‘Of course she did.’ Jo sounded pissed.
‘And?’
‘Either they know nothing or they’re not saying.’
‘What do we know of the boyfriend? Vic, did you say his name was?’
The mobile signal was weak. Jo’s voice came and went. ‘Her friends don’t . . . a clue. They aren’t . . . he exists except in Rachel’s imagination.’
‘Maybe he doesn’t.’ Putting her foot down, Kate passed a lorry with an unsafe load, a flapping tarpaulin no longer securing a cargo of second-hand furniture. ‘It wouldn’t be the first time a girl invented a boyfriend to impress her mates. I did it myself once. Rachel’s unhappy, Jo. She’s missing Robert. Maybe Vic is her way of keeping her father alive.’
‘Oh, so you’re a psychologist now!’
‘Don’t get arsy with me. You asked my opinion: I’m giving it to you.’
Three cars on the inside lane indicated to pull off the motorway at a service station. Kate looked at her watch, her stomach rumbling a plea for food. But the stench from a nearby pig farm made her plough on without stopping. There would be time enough to eat when she got back to the station. Hopefully by that time Robbo would have both food and progress to impart.
‘I didn’t mean to get at you,’ Jo apologized. ‘I’m feeling guilty, that’s all. I’ve known for ages that Rachel was being difficult. Hell, I’ve even witnessed it on occasions. I just didn’t think it was my place to interfere. I gather Stamp tried and wished he hadn’t. So I did sod-all and now . . .’ She sighed. ‘Emily’s in a right state.’
‘It was obvious she wasn’t coping,’ Kate said.
‘Oh, that’s very helpful.’
Kate ignored the dig. ‘Did you stay with her last night?’
‘I offered, but she wasn’t having any so I went home. When I got to Low Newton I rang her, only she didn’t pick up. I drove over there early this morning and she wasn’t in. One of the locals said he’d seen her acting weird. He stopped and asked if she was OK but she wouldn’t talk to him.’ Jo sighed loudly, her words spoken in monotone almost, evidence of how desperate she was. ‘I don’t think she realizes what an impression she’s giving out. I mean, a lone female standing on a bridge in tears. I gather the local man thought she was about to jump. She was still there when I found her. She’d been out searching. I don’t know what she expected to find, but she just can’t conceive of Rachel eloping with a boyfriend, Valentine’s Day or not.’
Right now, Valentine’s Day seemed a world away to Kate. So much had happened since their brief encounter at Low Newton-by-the-Sea. None of it good. ‘Look, I’m an hour away,’ she said, trying to take the pressure off Jo. ‘Leave it with me, I’ll try and get hold of her. See if I can talk some sense into her.’
‘Would you?’
‘I just said so, didn’t I?’ Kate needed the distraction like a hole in the head. But having spent time with the O’Neil family, missing girls were high on her agenda at the moment. No matter how busy she was, she couldn’t turn her back on a friend in need. ‘It might not be in person, but I will talk to her. Is she at home now?’
There was silence on the line.
‘Don’t tell me she’s at work?’
‘Against my advice,’ Jo said. ‘And with a ridiculous notion of tackling Fearon—’
‘She can’t do that!’
‘I don’t mean she’s going to ask him about Rachel – give her some credit! She wants to keep him close in the vain hope that he starts mouthing off and inadvertently gives away a clue as to where she might—’
‘Vain being the operative word. Does she have any idea how crazy that sounds?’
‘She doesn’t care. She just wants Rachel home safe.’
BY THE TIME Kate reached Alnwick station, Rachel McCann’s disappearance was all round the nick. As she entered the stairwell, heading for the incident room, she overheard snippets of conversation that made her very angry. A police constable was standing on the ground-floor landing making fun of the ‘weirdo’ who’d come in to report Rachel missing.
She hung behind, grinned at him. ‘Give her the brush-off, did you?’
The PC grinned back.
Smug bastard.
‘Sure did!’ he crowed. ‘Silly bitch was chuntering on about some DCI from the Toon being a personal friend – like that was going to make a difference.’ His face went red as he saw the reaction of those he’d been mouthing off to. His audience retreated quickly, leaving him to face the music.
‘Listen to me, you lazy git. I’m the DCI from the Toon you just referred to. So get your arse out there and look before I land you with a blue form! I’m not telling you because I know the family socially or because Rachel McCann is a decent lass – I couldn’t give a shit if she was the chav from hell! You treat her mother with the respect she deserves. You hear me?’
‘Yes, ma’am.’ He could hardly bring himself to look at her. ‘But can I just say in my defence—’
Her glare cut him dead.
He tried again. ‘Ma’am, the girl was in touch with a mate of hers. I didn’t think—’
‘You got that right! Has it never occurred to you that a clever offender might use the victim’s phone to call someone in order to create the impression of normality and throw us off the scent? Given that most of her friends are at college, at that hour in the afternoon there’s a strong likelihood they’ll be in a lecture and therefore unlikely to pick up.’ He opened his mouth but Kate waved him away in disgust. ‘I’m not interested in your poxy excuses – just piss off out of my sight!’
THE MURDER INVESTIGATION TEAM were hard at it when Kate walked in, still livid with the dickhead in the corridor. There was no recent activity recorded on the murder wall. No identity for the second victim. No news: period. She went straight to her office and shut the door with the intention of contacting Emily. But as she pulled her mobile from her pocket, it rang in her hand.
Gormley had worked quickly. He’d already re-interviewed John Butterworth, Maxine O’Neil’s teacher, the only witness to see her standing at the bus stop before she went missing, a split second observation as he drove by that may or may not have been accurate. He’d been labelled as the last person to see her alive and was therefore the most appropriate witness to start with.
‘Does his story hold up?’ Kate asked.
‘Yep. Drove the route myself and checked his movements on CCTV. His car was seen leaving Beverley at the time he gave in his original statement. He had an appointment at a private dental clinic four miles away. Their security camera captured him arriving – a few minutes early, according to the receptionist. I timed the run and there would be no time to abduct the girl and conceal her, unless he had her hidden in the boot while he was sitting in the dentist’s chair.’
‘How did he come across to you?’
‘Genuine, I’d say. Really upset when I told him we’d found her body. Visibility was good that morning. No fog, like we had here this morning, no parked cars obstructing his view of her standing there.’
‘And the bus driver?’
‘One hundred per cent convinced that she was not at the stop as he drove by. He’s adamant on timings. His evidence is, or should I say was, corroborated by witnesses on the bus at the time. I’ve yet to trace them all. Some have moved but I’ve got Ailsa on it. The bus driver knew Maxine, by sight not name, often picked her up at that stop and dropped her close to her home. It was and still is his regular route.’
‘Damn!’ Kate had been hoping for some discrepancy between what the witnesses were saying now and the statements obtained at the time. But Gormley quickly ruled that out. ‘OK, keep on it. Anything else I need to know?’
‘Nah. I’ve got a list of witnesses who came forward at the time, those who used the road regularly. I’ll work my way through them in case our boy is among them. But it’ll take some time. It’s the main east-west route used by thousands every day, so there’s a good few to get through.’
‘Have you been to the scene of the last sighting?’
‘Yep, it’s a long straight road. Not much vegetation to hide in. It seems likely she was taken by car. Whether she was taken by force or accepted a lift off someone she knew is the million-dollar question. Any news on Rachel?’
‘No. I’m about to call Emily. Speak later, yeah?’
‘Yeah . . . give her my love.’