Before It's Too Late (14 page)

Jackman fished his buzzing mobile out of his pocket. Celia’s name flashed up on the screen. He moved back down the side of the building, away from the drone of engine noise before he answered.

“Hi, Dad!”

The bright intonation brought an inadvertent smile to his lips. “Hi, what’s up?”

“Oh, nothing. I’m at Sam’s and she’s got some of the old crowd together from school. Bit of a reunion. Her parents are away so we’re gonna have a BBQ over here and catch up. Just calling to say don’t wait up. Looks like it’s going to be a late one. Might stay over.”

He could hear the babble of chatter in the background. Celia giggled as if she was having a two-way conversation. “No worries. You have a good time,” he said. “See you in the morning.”

“Sir?”

Jackman turned to see Keane marching towards him as he ended the call. His yellow tie hung loose around his neck. “How did you get on?”

“Bloody hopeless,” Keane said through panting breaths. He took a tissue out of his pocket and wiped his brow line. “There’s no CCTV at the internet cafe. I’ve spoken to the guy who was working the shift when the email was sent and he reckons it was really busy. He can’t remember anything. The shops opposite don’t seem to have cameras either.”

“What about payment records?”

“Nothing. It’s a dirty little two-booth cash-only operation. I asked if he has any regulars, thinking of people we could interview as potential witnesses but he said most of his customers are visitors to the area. They only come in once or twice. Sorry, sir. I think we’ve hit a dead end.”

He sat down on the wooden bench and propped his rucksack up beside him. A late afternoon breeze had gathered, whispering through the branches of the surrounding trees.

A family sat on a rug nearby, a blanket in front of them laden with a messy array of empty plates, half-eaten sandwiches and beakers of juice. A tin with the lid slid off exposed a collection of cupcakes. The woman was not unlike the opaque memories he held of his own mother, buried in the depths of his mind. Slender and petite, she was dressed in a white shirt and floral skirt that had risen up to expose her bare knees. As he watched, she leant forward and ruffled the hair of the man next to her.

Two boys, still in school uniform, were perched on the edge of the blanket, picking out tufts of grass and throwing them at one another, menacing grins on their faces. The man sat forward and stretched, then laid back and rested on the grass. The younger boy looked up, shouted to his sibling and they immediately ran over and jumped on their father in mock-combat. Their father roared as he rolled around with them. Their mother’s white teeth gleamed as she trilled in the background.

He was mesmerised by the display. His own childhood had been filled with an invented little world of playmates, imaginary friends who fitted in with whatever game or scenario he wished to play. He became good at it, adjusting his tone for the different characters, throwing his voice like a ventriloquist to make it real. More than once his mother had knocked on the door of his room, labouring under the misapprehension that he’d brought friends home to play.

Friends. He thought back to his school days. The boys taunted him, called him weird, picked him last for team games while the girls laughed in the background. Only a few of the plain girls showed him any kindness and that never lasted long. No, from an early age he had to satisfy himself with friends of his own making.

As he entered his teens, he learnt that the only way to gain his father’s attention was through his school grades. His father pored over his reports, as if his life depended on them. So he decided to work hard at school and charm his teachers in an effort to reach out to his father. And he figured out how to sit on the periphery of friendships, so that he didn’t stand out, the lone kid.

He looked back at the family. They’d stopped playing. The mother was gathering up the leftover food and packing up the basket. The boys nudged each other as they collected rubbish. The man brushed blades of grass from his trousers. For the briefest of moments they tugged at his heart strings, raising an ache that reached up through his chest and into his throat.

The man bent forward and pecked his wife’s cheek. She turned and winked at him as he drew back. In that split second everything changed. And the ache that had gripped him so tightly turned his heart to stone.

Chapter
Twenty-Five

By 8pm Jackman was back at the station in Stratford, studying the statements from Min’s friends.

DS Gray had established that Min’s uncle had left his flat last summer. Where had he stayed in the meantime? And where was he now? Jackman was convinced that somebody in the Chinese Quarter knew something. DS Gray promised to call him as soon as the local beat officer landed, but that wasn’t going to be until tomorrow.

He re-read another statement and cast it aside. He wasn’t really sure exactly what he was looking for, just something a little out of the ordinary, or someone that Min had met or spoken about.

None of the friends’ statements indicated anyone that had been hanging around, watching or bothering Min. None of the tutors remembered seeing anyone at the college. Even Tom hadn’t noticed anything and she seemed to spend most of her time with him.

A thought jabbed at him. Maybe Min had tried to trace her uncle and ran into something untoward?

He shuffled the statements around and skimmed through each one lingering on the one from Lauren Tate, Min’s best friend, who hadn’t been at the party on Monday night.

Jackman sat back in his chair as Alice entered his head. Many days she’d come home from work full of stories. Stories about friends’ or work colleagues’ lives, some that he’d never met or would never likely meet. Her capacity to care about the most intimate details of other people’s lives, often strangers, always surprised him. He learnt very early on to listen quietly whilst she shared her news. She reminded him of a heated kettle that needed to empty itself of every drop of hot water before it had a chance to cool down.

He turned this over in his mind. If Min had a secret who would she be more likely to talk to? Tom? Possibly. Although they’d argued the night she disappeared. There was the pregnancy, the issues with her parents. Were there other problems? Maybe she wasn’t sure she could trust him. But a best friend…

Jackman stared at Lauren’s statement. He had to do something. He considered it for a split second before he grabbed his phone off the desk and dialled.

Lauren Tate wound her ankles uncomfortably around the chair legs. She was a short girl with broad shoulders and horsey features. Sleek brown hair hung down each side of her face like a pair of silky curtains. A fitted black t-shirt sat atop faded denims that clung to her thighs.

Lauren’s mother had greeted them at the door of her modern semi on the edge of the north side of the town as their car pulled up, her face contorted into an expression of concern. Jackman was glad he’d phoned ahead. A brief phone discussion with Mrs Tate had laid the groundwork nicely and she couldn’t have been more obliging. She poured fresh coffee for all, then made a concerted effort to leave her daughter with Davies and Jackman in the kitchen alone. She didn’t mention Min after the phone call, although he could see that the disappearance of her daughter’s best friend was on her mind.

The Tates’ kitchen was a large room that spanned the rear of the property. Dull sunbeams filtered through the skylight and glinted on the varnished table. The gentle babble of the television could be heard from the next room.

Jackman smiled. “Thanks for seeing us, Lauren.”

She stared back at him with large eyes, then shifted her gaze to Davies beside him.

“Don’t be alarmed,” he said with a kind smile. “You aren’t in any trouble. We are just building up a picture of Min at the moment and wondered if you could help fill in the gaps?

She thrust a sharp nod, but said nothing.

Jackman cast a quick glance at Davies before he continued, “In your statement you said that you weren’t at the Old Thatch Tavern with Min on Monday night?”

She cleared her throat. “No, it was my mother’s birthday. We went out for a family meal.”

Jackman nodded. “When was the last time you saw Min?”

Lauren thought for a moment. “Monday evening. I went back to her apartment for a coffee. She had bought a new skirt and wanted to show it to me.”

“What time was this?”

Lauren paused for a second. “About five-ish I guess. I stayed about an hour.”

“So you left around six o’clock?”

“I guess so. Our table was booked for eight, and I wanted to get back and get ready.”

“How did Min seem?”

“Fine, really. It was a big night out, Tom’s birthday. We chatted a while and then I left.”

Jackman smiled. “Would you say you two are close?”

Lauren’s face lit up, but her eyes looked like they were about to cry. “Yes.”

“How did you meet?”

Lauren tugged at the silver necklace around her neck and wound it around her fingers. She stared into space for a moment as if she was recalling fond memories. When she met his gaze again, she seemed calmer. “It was about the second week of term,” she said. “I was walking across the campus to the canteen after class. A pencil dropped from her bag.” She gave a weak smile. “Sorry, we’ve joked about that so many times since. A pencil drew us together. Sounds odd, but we just got talking and she followed me into the canteen. I already knew Tom and the others she hung out with, from secondary school. We just kind of clicked straight away.”

Jackman angled his head. “Your mutual friends like Steph describe you as inseparable.”

She grinned. “Min and Tom are inseparable. I think I became her friend when I introduced her to YouTube. The internet is heavily monitored in China and YouTube is banned. She loved the music parodies on there. When we’re not together we chat over Skype in the evenings, while watching them.” She shrugged. “She’s really very easy to get on with. Everybody likes her. And Min cares about everyone.”

“How do you mean?”

Lauren thought for a moment. “Well, it’s like the rich kids at the college. The arrogant ones who miss classes and nag you to copy your assignments? Most of us give them a wide berth. But Min still had time for them. She’s nobody’s doormat, but she’d still speak to them, laugh with them, lend them her books to catch up.”

“Was there anybody she didn’t like?”

Lauren sat quietly, then shook her head.

“Anyone that didn’t like her?”

“No.”

“What did she talk about when you were together?”

“All sorts. Girl stuff mainly. She shared stuff about her family back home. Wants me to meet them when they come over in the summer.”

She went on to talk about Min’s family, but only shared facts that Jackman already knew. “What about any other family?”

Lauren looked puzzled. “She’s an only child.”

“Has she ever been to Birmingham?”

“I don’t think so. I know the overseas students have a few trips out to places like London and Bath. She hasn’t mentioned Birmingham.” Her face was blank, eyes clear.

“Thanks.” Jackman gave her a small smile. “What about Tom?

“What do you mean?”

“How do they get along?”

“Alright.”

“Oh, come on Lauren. Your best friend is missing. We know she was pregnant.”

Lauren’s eyes widened. There was a moment before she spoke. “She was scared,” she said, her voice barely a whisper. “He wanted her to get rid of it. But she wasn’t sure what to do… ” She broke off mid-sentence and swallowed. “Can I ask you a question?”

Jackman nodded.

“Do you think she’s okay?”

“We have no evidence to suggest that she has come to harm,” he said diplomatically. “But I’ll feel a lot happier when we locate her.”

He watched as small tears formed in the corners of her eyes. “I’m scared something has happened to her.”

Davies retrieved a packet of tissues from her pocket, pulled one out and passed it over. “I know, love,” she said. “Try not to think that. We’re doing everything we can to find her. In the meantime, if you think of anything else that might help in any way, just give us a call.”