Gone (16 page)

Freeman looked at the stick again. Why was it taking so long?
Was
it taking so long? She checked the box again. Two minutes, it claimed.

She looked down at the stick again and felt a shockwave right through her body. ‘Fucking, fucking, fuck,’ she said, loud enough for anyone else in the ladies’ to hear. She’d been expecting it, but it was still a shock to the system to see it in front of her again in black and white. Or in blue, rather. She’d been telling herself it didn’t matter what the stick said because she’d made up her mind anyway. But now it was real. Now it was a real decision, not a hypothetical one. She felt tears stinging the backs of her eyes and pressed her fingers into them to stop them from coming.

She stuffed the test, along with the packaging, into the sanitary bin and then kicked it for good measure. Brian could go fuck himself. This was none of his business. Nothing was going to change.

Routledge was sitting on her desk as she walked in. Arms folded, foot tapping. He gave her the look.

‘I know, I’m late,’ she said. ‘I was speaking to a witness.’

‘Who?’

‘Diane Royle. A friend of Emma’s.’

‘And did you learn anything useful?’

‘Lucas Yates might’ve broken Emma’s arm.’

‘Might’ve?’ Routledge said. ‘Have you spoken to Ben Swales yet?’

‘Yes,’ Freeman said. ‘Yesterday.’

‘And? What did the creepy little bastard have to say for himself?’ He’d seen Ben’s picture on his driving licence and had made a snap decision that he was creepy. She was glad to see such stellar police work in action.

Freeman sighed. ‘He denied knowing her.’

Routledge’s eyes lit up. ‘Really?’ he said. ‘Now that doesn’t sound like the response of an innocent man, does it?’

‘Well, he changed his mind when I reminded him about Emma’s dad—’

‘I bet he did.’

‘Said he’d forgotten about her.’

Routledge snorted. ‘Perhaps you should bring him in.’

‘On what grounds?’

‘The same grounds you had for bringing in Yates. He knew Emma. At least Yates isn’t denying it.’

‘No, but why would Ben Swales kill Emma? What reason would he have?’

‘They don’t always need a motive,’ Routledge said and stood up. ‘Speak to him again. Speak to the people he used to work with. Anything else?’

‘There was another girl. Jenny Taylor. Knew Emma and Lucas. I’m hoping to speak to her as soon as we trace her. Lloyd’s on it,’ she said before Routledge could ask.

Routledge glanced over at Lloyd throwing peanuts into his mouth like a trained monkey and gave her the look again before walking back to his lair.

‘Lloyd,’ Freeman shouted across the room and the DC turned around before slapping McIlroy on the shoulder. Everybody’s mate. He headed in Freeman’s direction and she wanted to smack him in his stupid jolly face.

‘Boss?’ Lloyd said.

‘Jenny Taylor.’

‘Ah yes, Jenny Taylor,’ he said. ‘I found her.’

‘Really?’

‘Don’t act so surprised. I do have my uses.’

‘That’s debateable. So, where is she?’

‘You have to say the magic word, now you’ve insulted my amazingness.’

‘Tell me or I’ll break your legs,’ Freeman said.

‘That’ll do. Okay, I couldn’t find her through the DVLA and there was nothing on our system since all the fun and games in that pub. But I checked her NI number and discovered she was claiming benefits from 2000 to 2003 in Sheffield. Then she got a job, bless her little cotton socks, and then—’

‘Where is she now, Lloyd?’

‘Middlesbrough.’

‘Middlesbrough?’

‘Yep. Sunny Middlesbrough.’

‘Okay,’ Freeman said, ‘give me the address and phone number.’

‘No phone number, I’m afraid.’

‘Okay. Give me the address.’

Lloyd scuttled back to his desk, rummaged around the mess and came up with a piece of paper, the corner torn off.

She thanked Lloyd and checked the time. She really wanted to speak to Ben Swales again, but not because Routledge said so. Alnwick was forty-five minutes away. Middlesbrough over an hour. Unfortunately they were in completely different directions. She also wanted to speak to Ben’s old colleagues at the clinic again.

Freeman plonked herself down on the edge of her desk and dialled. He answered after three rings.

‘Gardner.’

Chapter 34

19 April 1999

Emma sat on the edge of Diane’s bed, an uncomfortable silence hanging between them. Diane had been so excited when she’d opened the door to find Emma standing there. She’d hugged her, told her she was so glad she was back to normal. And then Emma had burst into tears. She knew she couldn’t tell Diane about the baby, no matter how much she needed to tell someone. But she had to get away from her house, from Lucas.

‘So . . .’ Diane said. ‘You want to tell me what’s up?’

She didn’t realise she was crying again until Diane looked like she was going to burst into tears herself. She came and sat beside Emma, draping her arm around her.

‘Is it
him
?’ Diane said.

Diane hated Lucas even though they’d barely met, even though she didn’t know half of what’d gone on. Maybe she wasn’t as naive as Emma thought. Maybe she would understand.

Emma nodded. ‘He won’t leave me alone. He stands outside the house, just staring, waiting for me to come out. And if I do come out he says things, threatens me. He follows me everywhere. I daren’t go out most of the time. And I’m scared in case he does something to my dad. He broke in, too. He—’ Emma caught herself. She couldn’t share that with Diane. ‘I know it was him,’ she said.

‘You have to call the police,’ Diane told her.

‘I can’t. They won’t do anything. They’ll just tell him to leave me alone and then he’ll get even more pissed off. I don’t know what to do.’

She waited for Diane to say something, to give her an answer to all her problems, but she just sat there, her forehead creased with concern. She shouldn’t have come. Diane couldn’t help her. She was on her own.

Chapter 35

15 December 2010

Freeman wondered if she’d be better spending her time speaking to Jenny Taylor. The girl had known Emma, hadn’t liked her, but knew her. And, according to Diane Royle, was intimately acquainted with Lucas Yates. If anyone knew anything, it was likely to be her.

Instead she drove through town, past the clinic Ben had worked at. She swung the wheel and turned into the back alley, causing the car behind to honk its horn. Ben’s memory of Emma Thorley was a little cloudy, to say the least. Maybe his boss would recall something that had slipped Ben’s mind.

Freeman walked past a group of teenagers blowing smoke into the clinic and went into the relative warmth. The manager, Jessie, was standing beside the reception desk, speaking to a young girl, her hand on her shoulder. Jessie looked up as Freeman walked in and handed the girl over to a colleague. There was no sign of Catherine. Perhaps she’d been fired for losing the letters.

‘Oh, are you here about the break-in?’ Jessie said. ‘I was beginning to think no one was coming.’ She walked around the desk, coming to a stop in front of Freeman.

‘I’m not here about a break-in,’ Freeman said.

‘Oh. Then why are you here?’ Jessie asked. ‘We called about this first thing.’

‘I’m sure someone will be here as soon as they can, but I wanted to ask you something else.’

Jessie seemed to bristle at this but led Freeman to a small room down the hall. She closed the door behind them.

Jessie indicated the hard plastic chairs and sat down. Freeman noticed the broken window, covered up with cardboard and Sellotape.

‘Was anything taken?’ she asked Jessie.

‘Just the petty cash box, I think, but we get it a lot. Usually people looking for drugs. Why they think we’d have any is beyond me. We’re in the business of getting them off drugs, not supplying them.’ She looked around the room and then turned her attention back to Freeman. ‘You asked about Ben Swales.’

‘Actually, I wanted to know about him and Emma Thorley,’ Freeman said and saw Jessie’s brow twitch. ‘You said something last time about seeing Ben with a girl. Was this her?’ She showed Jessie a photo of Emma.

‘Yes,’ Jessie said. ‘That was her.’

‘Do you remember anything else about her?’

‘Not really. I never worked with her. But I remember her. Quiet. Different to most of the young people we get in here. She seemed . . .’

‘What?’

‘I think there was something going on with her and Ben.’

‘Going on?’ Freeman said. ‘They were seeing each other?’

Jessie shook her head. ‘I don’t know that for sure. But it was odd. I saw him leave with her several times.’

‘When was this?’

‘Oh, I don’t know. Not long before he left.’ Jessie looked up as someone came to the door. ‘Do you need something, Andrea?’ Jessie asked. The blonde woman stared at Freeman before turning back to Jessie.

‘Someone’s here about the break-in,’ she said.

‘Excuse me,’ Jessie said and got up. Freeman followed her into the office behind Catherine’s desk. A uniformed officer she didn’t recognise was looking at something behind the door. She edged around and saw the mess in front of a small filing cabinet. The contents had been pulled out and left all over the floor. Freeman looked to Jessie for an explanation.

‘We haven’t touched anything,’ Jessie said, not knowing who to address any more. ‘I guess our night-time intruder thought we might have something of value in there.’

‘And did you?’ Freeman asked.

‘No. Like I said, we don’t keep drugs or money on the property, other than the petty cash box with a small amount of tea money. They took the tea money. All three pounds forty.’

Freeman showed the officer her ID and bent down and scanned the files.

‘Personnel files?’ she said and looked up at Jessie.

Jessie nodded. ‘Yes. They found the keys and went through all the drawers. Clearly they found nothing they wanted.’

She looked down at the files. ‘Have you checked to see if anything is missing?’

‘No. I was waiting for the police,’ she said and crossed her arms. ‘But why would anyone want paperwork?’

Freeman noticed Andrea staring through the small window in the door and took a pair of latex gloves from her pocket, pulled them on. She started flicking through the files. ‘Would Ben Swales’ file have been in here?’ she asked.

‘No. He left a long time ago,’ Jessie said. ‘It would just be current staff.’

Freeman got to the bottom of the pile. She sighed and peered into the empty drawer. ‘Can you take a look? See if anyone’s is missing?’

Jessie bent over and looked through the files, shaking her head. Freeman stood back and the officer called it in, requesting someone to come and take prints.

Freeman turned, looking around the office at the other drawers. ‘Do you keep records of clients?’

‘Yes,’ Jessie said.

‘For how long?’

‘Usually ten years after their last treatment. But . . .’

‘But?’ Freeman prompted.

‘But anything not from the last couple of years would be in the store cupboard.’ Jessie led Freeman down the corridor to a small, windowless room. There were dozens of boxes of paperwork.

‘Emma Thorley’s file could still be there?’ Freeman said.

‘You’re welcome to take a look.’

‘Any tips on where to start?’

Jessie shrugged and closed the door.

Freeman turned to the boxes and opened the first one. Hundreds of sheets of paper were stuffed in but she couldn’t make out how it was ordered.