The Profiler (3 page)

Ellie’s eyebrows rose. “How old did you say she was?”

He glared at her. “Nineteen. And yes, she’s never been away from home overnight before.” His eyes drilled into hers. “She’s disabled, Detective. She has Down’s syndrome.”

Ellie’s shoulders slumped and the breath left her body in a rush. “Shit. I’m sorry, sir. I really am. Me and my big mouth. I should learn to close it. How many times—?”

“For fuck’s sake, Ellie. Shut up.”

Ellie flushed in surprise at Ben’s harsh reprimand. “Yeah. Right. I’ll stop talking. Right now.” She squeezed her eyes shut for a few seconds. When she opened them, Ben regarded her closely, his expression somber.

“I want you and Luke to talk to Mrs Ward. Go and get a few photos of the girl. Talk to the neighbors. Call the TV stations. You know what to do. We need to find this girl. Before another night falls.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Job’s done, sir.” Luke gave him a level look. “We’ll find her. Don’t you worry.”

Ben’s gaze narrowed. “Yeah, well, just get on with it, okay? Time’s of the essence.”

They moved toward the door.

“How are things going with the other investigation? Did we get anything from the autopsy?”

Ellie turned back. “It’s not good, sir. Samantha Wolfe thinks believes the woman was decapitated before she stopped breathing.”

“Jesus.”

Ellie remained silent.

“You don’t have an ID?”

She shook her head. “Not yet.”

“You’ve got it out to the media?”

She nodded. “Of course.”

Ben blew out his breath on a heavy sigh. “I’ll get some of the others to go through the missing persons’ files. Do we have a time of death, yet?”

“Two or three weeks. That’s Samantha’s best guess,” Ellie replied.

“Well, it’s not the Ward girl. But what about the other one? Sally Batten?”

Ellie pursed her lips. “It’s possible. I didn’t think of her earlier, but she was reported missing a fortnight ago.”

“As soon as you’ve seen the Wards, go and talk to Sally’s parents. Show them the head photos. There’s no way of knowing if they read the papers. I’m sure the pictures are gruesome, but we don’t have a choice. Besides, if it is Sally Batten, they’ll have to formally identify her at the morgue and I’m betting the real life version is a hell of a lot worse than the pictures.”

* * *

Ellie negotiated the right hand turn into Evelyn Ward’s street and glanced across at Luke. “What number
on Edward Street did you say?”

He consulted the crumpled piece of paper in his hand. “Thirty-six. At least, that’s what I think it says.” He turned the paper in her direction.

She glanced at it and frowned. “The boss could do with some handwriting practice.”

“I guess he had other things on his mind.”

“Do you think there’s more going on here? I mean, I know this is the second girl to go missing, but it’s not that uncommon for teenagers to take off for a while. Especially if things aren’t good at home.”

“I guess you don’t know, then.”

“Know what?”

“That’s right. I forgot you only transferred in a few months ago.”

She waited for him to continue. When he didn’t, she sighed and pulled up at the curb outside the red brick house with the number thirty-six painted in black on the neat white picket fence running across the front of the property.

She turned to him expectantly. “So?”

The line spanning the bridge of Luke’s nose deepened. He stared out through the windshield. The rain had stopped, but the sky was still heavy with full-bellied clouds.

“The boss’ daughter went missing at nineteen, more than ten years ago,” he murmured. “She’s never been found.”

Heat spread across Ellie’s cheeks. She thumped the steering wheel. “Shit. I had no idea.”

“Yeah, well, he doesn’t like to talk about it. She was his only child.” He shifted to look at the nondescript brick-and-tile house opposite. “That’s why this has probably hit him harder than you’d expect.”

Ellie breathed a heavy sigh and shook her head. “Shit.”

He grimaced. “Yeah, anyway, let’s go and talk to the mother. The sooner we get some pictures out to the media, the sooner we’ll find her.” He glanced at his watch. “If we’re lucky, it might even make the six o’clock news.”

Ellie climbed out of the unmarked vehicle and tried to ignore the cold knot of dread in her belly. The girl might have been nineteen, but was likely to have the mentality of a much younger child. Memories of the young son she’d lost stirred at that connection. She tightened her lips and forced them from her mind. Now was not the time. After all, this wasn’t about her.

A white metal mailbox overflowing with junk mail—half of it hanging out, wet and neglected—stood near the front gate. No doubt collecting mail was the last thing on their minds. She took a steadying breath and looked across at Luke. “Ready?”

He nodded. “Let’s do it.”

* * *

Ellie hid
her reluctance while she accepted the cup of tea and balanced it awkwardly on her knee. She hated tea. Unfortunately, it was all Evelyn Ward had offered and it seemed rude not to accept. The woman had gone to a lot of trouble gathering tea things, including polished silver teaspoons, store-bought fruit cake and matching china. Even the sugar bowl matched, but Ellie didn’t fail to notice the way the woman’s hands shook as she loaded the items onto the tray.

They were seated on a worn, chintz-covered two-seater sofa in a small but immaculate house. Ellie guessed it was
circa
1950, but the modern, neutral-colored paintwork was fresh and the place had been decorated with a talented eye.

After pouring the tea, Evelyn Ward took a seat opposite them in the matching armchair. Her cup remained untouched.

“I hope you’re not too hot.” At their enquiring looks, she shrugged apologetically. “I had to stoke the fire. I just haven’t been able to get warm.”

Ellie’s heart swelled with compassion. Leaning forward, she set her cup and saucer on the cherry wood coffee table and cleared her throat.

“Thanks for the tea, Mrs Ward, but we need to ask you some questions about your daughter. We know you’re worried about her. I take it you haven’t heard from her?”

The woman shook her head. She stared back at them, her pale eyes swollen and red-rimmed.

“It’s just not like her, Detective. I know what you must be thinking… She’s nineteen. Of course there’s going to be nights when she doesn’t come home. But not my Josie.” She gave them a hesitant look. “You know she has—?”

“Yes, Detective Superintendent Walker told us.” Luke placed his cup on the table and leaned forward. “We need you to tell us about her day yesterday, right up until the time you last saw her.”

Tears welled up in Evelyn’s eyes. She took a moment to dig around inside the front of her woollen dress and produced a crumpled tissue. Dabbing at the moisture, she then blew her nose. The tissue remained scrunched in her hand.

“I’m sorry, Detective. I just… I’m just so worried about her. I know something dreadful has happened. I just
know
it.”

“Mrs Ward.” Ellie kept her voice calm. “I know how difficult this is for you, but we need to get as much information as we can if we’re going to find her. Now, I think you told Detective Superintendent Walker she was home until about three o’clock when she left for work at the local supermarket. Is that right?”

“Yes, that’s right, although she wasn’t at home, as such. We went into town together in the morning to get our hair cut.”

She touched her head reflexively. “We always go in together. Every six weeks.” A thin smile twisted her lips. “She gets hers curled, I get mine straightened.”

Ellie returned her smile, hoping to put her at ease. “When you say you went into town, I take it you mean Penrith?”

“Yes. We go to
Hair Affair
in the Westfield Mall.”

“How did she seem?” Ellie asked.

Evelyn frowned in concentration. “She seemed just like she always does. Her usual, happy self. She loves going to the hairdresser.”

“Did anything happen while you were out?” Luke asked. “Did you run into anyone she knew?”

“No, we didn’t run into anyone we knew, but not long after we had lunch, I started feeling unwell. I-I must have eaten something bad. We left soon afterwards and returned home.”

“How does Josie normally get to and from work?” Ellie asked.

“I usually drive her.”

Ellie consulted her notebook. “I think you told Detective Superintendent Walker your husband Harold dropped Josie off at work yesterday. Is that right?”

“Yes.” The woman looked away. Color flushed her cheeks. “I-I had taken quite ill. Since our arrival home, I had spent most of the time in the bathroom. I had a terrible bout of gastric and vomiting. I could barely stand from the cramping. There was no way I was going to be able to drive her there and collect her again. Harold was going to do it, but then he was called to work.”

“What does he do?” asked Luke.

“He’s a nurse at Westmead Hospital. Someone called in sick. They were already short staffed.” She shrugged. “He agreed to go in.”

Ellie sat forward in her seat, her notebook open. “Why didn’t you call Josie’s boss and tell him she couldn’t work? I’m sure if you’d explained the situation—”

“I understand what you’re saying, Detective and we talked about it. Harold was going to call the store, but Josie begged for us to let her go.” Mrs Ward shook her head, tears welling up once again. “She loves that job,” she sobbed. “It’s her first job. It makes her feel like any other nineteen-year-old.”

Ellie gave the woman a few moments to get her emotions back under control. She did her best not to glance at her watch. Time was marching on. They needed to get moving.

“What time did Harold drop Josie at work?” she asked.

“Three o’clock.”

“What time did she finish?”

“Ten. That’s her usual shift. Three to ten. She mainly packs shelves and does product presentations—things like that.”

“Was Harold supposed to collect Josie last night?” Ellie asked.

Evelyn Ward shook her head. “No, his shift wasn’t going to finish until eleven. He couldn’t possibly be back in time to pick her up. It was one of the other reasons we suggested she stay home last night.”

Ellie frowned. “So what arrangements were made to collect Josie from work?”

“Harold had arranged with Josie’s supervisor to send her home in a taxi. There’s a taxi stand right outside the store.”

Ellie scribbled in her notebook. “What’s the name of Josie’s supervisor?”

“Jason Warner. He’s been very good to Josie.”

“So, what happened last night?” Luke asked.

The woman clenched her hands again and gave a shaky sigh. “I was still feeling quite unwell, so I hadn’t been paying too much attention to the time. When I noticed it was ten thirty and she wasn’t home, I started to worry. We only live about seven minutes’ drive from the supermarket. She should have been home.”

“Did you call the store?” Ellie asked.

“Of course I did, but the phone just rang out. They actually close at ten.” Her lips tightened. “I guess there was no one there. I called Harold. He couldn’t get away from work. That’s when I called the police.”

“Have you spoken to anyone at the store today?” Luke asked.

Josie’s mother sighed. “Yes, I spoke to Jason. He said he asked one of the other staff, Drew McNeill, to walk with her to the taxi stand. He didn’t see her after she clocked off.”

“Did he say what time that was?”

“Yes. Right on ten o’clock. It’s recorded on her time card.”

“The store should have security cameras,” Ellie stated. “We might be lucky and catch them leaving the shop. It could give us some idea where she went.”

Josie’s mother stood abruptly. Hope flared in her eyes. “Well, what are you waiting for? You’re wasting time asking me all these questions. My baby’s out there somewhere and she’s in trouble. Soon it’s going to be dark and she’s going to spend another night on her own.”

Ellie and Luke stood and gathered their things. Ellie looked across at the other woman.

“Mrs Ward, where is your husband now?”

“He’s out looking for Josie.” She stared down at her hands where they lay twisted together. Her voice dropped even lower. “He’s been out searching ever since he arrived home last night. It was his idea for her to catch a cab. H-he’s taking it hard.” As if a button had been pressed, the woman’s face suddenly crumpled. “Oh, my God! Maybe that’s it? Maybe there weren’t any cabs? Maybe she started walking? Maybe someone came along and took her…”

The woman’s thin shoulders hunched forward, quiet sobs wracking her body. Ellie’s heart ached. Painful memories of Jamie’s death swirled in her head. She fought off the impregnable wall of panic that had become a familiar companion ever since they’d told her about her son. She knew firsthand how useless well-meaning reassurances from strangers were, but offered them anyway.

“Mrs Ward, we don’t know anything about what happened, yet. Who knows? She could have met up with a friend after work and gone out.”