Читать книгу Nowhere to Run - Jack Slater - Страница 13

By the time Pete turned into the street where he lived, barely a mile from the station, the smell of fish and chips that permeated the car had gone from appetising to nauseating as he worried about the problems this case could throw up. Its similarities to their own were bound to cause trouble at home. It would be a reminder, if nothing else. But there was nothing he could do about that. The girl needed him – and needed him to be on top of his game. To find her before the sick bastard who’d taken her – if that was what had happened – went one step further and killed her like the Jane Doe they had discussed earlier.

His mind conjured an image of a forlorn-looking body, naked and filthy, lying in the mud at the side of the river like so much discarded rubbish. A young life snuffed out as if it meant nothing. He shook his head. He could not afford to think like that. He had to be positive. He had to expect and plan to find Rosie Whitlock alive and soon. For her sake as well as his own.

He turned into his drive and got out of the car, warm paper package in hand. The front door opened before he reached it.

‘Daddy! Good day?’ Annie grinned up at him in jeans and T-shirt, a glittery pink elephant covering most of her slim chest.

Pride swelled like a physical lump in his throat and he wrapped his free arm around her, lifted her up and kissed the top of her head. Her long brown hair smelled mildly of shampoo. He took a long breath and set her down again. ‘Hello, Button. You smell nice. It didn’t go to plan, I can tell you that. I was hoping for a nice, easy slide back into things, but instead I went and picked up a big case. Here, take these into the kitchen, will you?’ He handed her the food and shut the door against the chill of the night.

‘OK.’ She took the package and skipped away.

‘Hi, Lou,’ he called, as he slipped off his shoes and jacket, but there was no response.

He went through. She was sitting in her usual place on the sofa, dressed in jogging bottoms and a sweatshirt, her dark, greasy hair tied back in a ponytail. The TV was playing some kind of game show, the sound barely audible.

‘How you doing?’

She didn’t take her eyes off the TV. ‘OK.’

‘What you been up to?’

‘Nothing.’ Her voice was dull, uninterested. She’d been like this, or worse, for months now, ever since the first flush of frantic panic faded a few days after Tommy’s disappearance. It was like she’d suffered an emotional overload that had used up everything inside her and she had been unable to replenish it.

He kept trying. Anything to get a response. ‘Heard from anyone?’

She shook her head.

‘Thought you might have gone out,’ he said. ‘Gone shopping or something.’

‘What for?’

‘To get out of these four walls. Get a bit of sunshine. See some people, other than me and Annie.’

‘See a bloody doctor, you mean,’ she said sourly.

‘I didn’t, but it couldn’t hurt, if you feel ready.’

‘I don’t.’

‘Tea’s ready,’ Annie called from the kitchen.

Pete let out a long breath. He was finding it harder and harder to cope with the expressionless monotony of her depression. But what could he do? If Louise didn’t want to see a doctor, a grief counsellor or a psychiatrist, he couldn’t force her to. He’d made the suggestion more than once and she’d steadfastly refused. ‘I don’t need a grief counsellor. Tommy’s not dead,’ was her standard answer. Or, ‘Our son’s missing, for God’s sake. What do you expect?’

‘Thanks, Button,’ he called. ‘Hold on, I’ll fetch it through.’

Annie had plated up the food and poured three glasses – two of shandy and one lemonade. Pete reached out and drew her into a hug. ‘You’re a wonderful daughter, you know that?’

‘I know.’ She gave him an impish smile.

Pete laughed and ruffled her hair.

‘Dad,’ she complained, swiping her fingers through it to settle it.

‘Come on, let’s eat.’ He picked up two of the plates and carried them through to the dining table in the conservatory while Annie carried her own, then he came back for the drinks. ‘Lou,’ he said as brought them through.

She got up, turned off the TV and came through to sit with them. Which was an improvement on a couple of weeks ago, he thought. Then, she would have eaten on the sofa, staring at the TV and barely noticing what was on her plate.

‘You done your homework?’

‘Yep. Didn’t have much. Just a bit of maths and some geography.’

Her two favourite subjects. ‘Good girl. I’m going to have to go back in for a couple of hours, so you’ll need to get yourself to bed, all right?’

‘Why?’

‘What do you have go back for?’ Louise asked.

‘I need to get things organised for the morning. We need a search team and canvassers out first thing and I’ve got people to call to arrange interviews.’

Louise grunted and shoved another chip in her mouth, chewing silently.

Pete glanced at Annie, picking apart her fish, and suddenly pictured the photos of Rosie Whitlock that he’d seen in the sitting room of her home. How would she be coping right now, wherever she was? How would Annie cope in the same situation? Would she panic? Would she lose it and get completely stressed out? Or would she deal with it as capably as she seemed to be dealing with Louise’s condition and the disappearance of her brother?

She had been as distraught as Pete and Louise when it happened, of course, crying night and day, demanding answers, but she had grown up a lot in the following weeks. As Louise spiralled downwards, withdrawing into herself, Annie had stepped up. Taken on the role of mother in the household.

He didn’t know what he would have done without her, if he was honest. But the thought of her going through what Rosie Whitlock must be enduring right now clogged his throat with horror.

‘Dad?’

He blinked. Cleared his throat. ‘Sorry, Button. What was that?’

‘Are you all right?’

‘Yeah, of course. Don’t worry about me.’ He forked up a piece of fish, unsure how long he had been lost in his awful thoughts. ‘What was it you said?’

‘Nothing. Just, you looked . . . I don’t know. Like you’d seen a ghost or something.’

Pete smiled. ‘Nothing that exciting, love. I was just thinking, that’s all. These chips are good tonight, aren’t they?’

‘Yeah. Did you go somewhere different?’

‘Same place, but there’s different people in there. They looked Greek or something.’

‘What, the old guy’s retired, has he?’

‘Must have. I didn’t ask. Maybe I’ll find out later. See what the gossip is in the station.’ He glanced at Louise, but she didn’t respond. Simply chewed stoically, her gaze turned inward, barely aware of her surroundings or the people in them. ‘I shan’t be too late back, anyway. Just do what’s needed and come home. No sense getting overtired. Nobody does their best that way, and we need to be on top of our game on this one.’

‘Bad, is it?’

‘As bad as it gets. But nothing for you to worry about.’

‘Dad. I’m ten years old. I’ll be able to get married in another six.’

Pete almost spat out his fish. ‘No, you won’t, young lady. Not without mine and your mother’s permission. Not until you’re eighteen, at least, and not then if you’ve got any sense.’

‘Why? You and Mum are all right.’

‘We didn’t get married until much later than that. When we were old enough to know what we wanted out of life and who we were. Getting married as young as that never lasts. You’re still growing up. Anyway, what’s the rush? You’ve got your whole life ahead of you. And you haven’t even got a boyfriend yet, have you?’

‘No,’ she said heavily. ‘But that’s not the point.’

Pete’s eyebrows went up. ‘Oh. And here I was thinking that was the whole point.’

‘See, you just don’t understand, do you?’

‘Honestly . . . not a clue.’ He grinned and reached out to tousle her hair. ‘I just know that I love you and I want you to be happy.’

She ducked away. ‘Well, so do I. That’s why I need to plan ahead. To be aware of my options.’

Pete suppressed a laugh. ‘Oh, yes? And who’s been putting ideas like that in your head, eh? You got a life coach started working at that school of yours? If so, send them round here. I need some lessons of that sort.’

‘What’s a life coach?’

‘Someone who gets paid enormous amounts of money for talking a mixture of common sense and pointless rubbish.’

‘Sounds like a good job. Easier than yours.’

‘Too right. I’ll tell you what – give it a couple of years, then look into it. See if your careers teacher can point you in the right direction.’ He swallowed the last of his chips. ‘But in the meantime, you make sure you’re in bed and asleep before I get home tonight, all right?’

‘Yes, Dad.’

‘Good girl.’ He stood up, briefly touched her cheek then rested a hand on Louise’s shoulder and kissed her forehead. ‘See you in a bit.’

*

Pete paused, shocked, in the doorway of the squad room. His whole team were at their desks, working quietly and, across from them, a whiteboard had been set up with photos of Rosie and her parents and the basic details of everyone they knew of who was linked to the case, all in Dick Feeney’s neat hand.

Dick looked up from his computer. With his cheeks darkened by a day’s stubble, he looked every inch his nickname of Grey Man. But this was the kind of commitment and work ethic that should have seen Tommy found, months ago. And, Pete was sure, would have if the same team were on it. He just wished they could have been.

‘How’s the missus?’

‘Pissed off at me for coming back in, but she’ll get over it. What’s going on?’

‘We’ve just been doing a few background searches. Seeing if there’s anyone linked to the family with a record,’ Jane told him.

‘And?’

‘Nothing yet, apart from your man, Sanderson.’

‘What did you find on known local paedophiles, Dave?’

‘There’s three on the register. I’ve got the details here.’ He held up a piece of paper.

Pete nodded. ‘We’ll need to visit them. Get their alibis, if they have any. Also, talk to the neighbours and the people who live around the school gates. But, before that, we need to make certain of the parents’ alibis. Ben, if you’ve got a minute, you could do that. Call the head of the school where the mother works and one of the partners of the father’s firm. Meantime, I’ll take Jill and see if we can knock the mother’s sister up. Jane, you and Dick see if you can get hold of Alistair’s brother, Michael. Dave, when you’ve finished what you’re doing, take Ben and follow up on the registered paedophiles. Verify whatever alibis you can.’

‘Bearing in mind who and what they are, have we got to be gentle with them?’ Dave asked.

‘Until you can put one of them in the frame, Dave, they’re as innocent as you are, as far as this case goes.’

‘If they were innocent, boss, we wouldn’t be looking at them,’ Jane pointed out.

‘You know what I mean. Anyway, I thought you were going home?’

She shrugged.

‘Well, thanks for coming back. All of you. Come on, Jill. And don’t forget your brolly; it’s pissing down out there.’

‘Bugger, we thought you were just sweating from the stairs, boss,’ Dick said, as Jill rose from behind her desk.

Pete ignored him. ‘If we’re done by nine, I’ll pop back in here. Otherwise, I’ll see you all in the morning.’ He held the door for the slim, dark-haired constable.

‘Thanks, boss.’ She finished shrugging into her heavy coat and started down the stairs ahead of him. ‘So, where are we going?’

‘Exmouth. They live down near the front, just up from the river mouth.’

‘Very nice.’

‘Hmm. Especially for a bar manager and a social worker.’

‘Jane was saying the mother reckons he’s a bit too touchy-feely.’

‘Yes. So, you take his missus and I’ll have a word with him, assuming they’re in.’

‘Right, boss.’

Pete pushed open the back door and let her through, then ran for the car, the rain now turned to sleet again and coming down hard.