Cut Short (23 page)

  'It's not like it's always the same one.' The girl was truculent now she'd regained some self-control but she was clearly very frightened about landing herself in more trouble with her parents.

  'They're only fourteen,' Mrs Hooper explained. 'Too young for serious boyfriends.'

  'Mum!' Ella protested.

  'Too young for boyfriends at all, serious or not,' Mr Hooper interjected.

  'Oh, Norman, she's said she's sorry.'

  'Sorry? Did she clear up the mess in the bathroom? Well, did you?' Ella muttered an expletive under her breath. Her father threw her a black look.

  'We only wanted a bit of fun,' the girl burst out suddenly. 'Is it a crime to have some fun once in a while?' She appealed to Geraldine, looking her in the eye for the first time. 'It's all work, work, work, with them. And it's the same at school. All they do is bang on about bloody GCSEs, like the universe depends on it.' She turned on her father. 'Why can't you just leave me alone? I'm going upstairs. Homework!' She leapt up and ran out of the room. They heard her feet stamping on the stairs. Geraldine made her escape, as domestic conflict threatened to start up again and the sound of shouting followed her until she had passed through the garden gate. Geraldine tried to quell her unease, but visiting Ella's house had confirmed her suspicion that Rusty had lied to her mother. More than just a few girls had attended the party.

  The DCI said she wanted the missing girl to be treated as a priority. 'We've got to find this girl, wherever she is. Where did she stay overnight? Let's assume she stayed with a friend, or at some man's flat. Drop everything else and start looking,' she barked. 'Geraldine, I want a full report on my desk now!'

  'Taking a risk there, gov,' Peterson smiled, crouching down by Geraldine's desk. She looked up, startled, and closed the notebook she'd been staring at. 'Postponing your report,' he scolded, making a tutting sound and grinning broadly.

  Geraldine smiled back. 'Typing up my report will have to wait,' she replied firmly, 'and the boss'll have to lump it. I've given the duty sergeant the gist of it. I want to get on with the real work.'

  'Finding Jacqueline Ross.'

  'Exactly.'

  'She could well have left the party with some boy or other,' Peterson said, straightening up.

  Geraldine voiced her doubts. 'It's nearly six o'clock now. Wouldn't you expect her to have been in touch with Ella at least, to find out if she'd left her phone there?'

  'Maybe she can't contact her, because she hasn't got her number.'

  'True. She's probably only got the number saved on her phone. Which reminds me, have we got anything from the numbers on her phone yet?'

  Peterson shook his head. 'Just kids from the school so far. Look, gov,' he leaned forward, lowering his voice. 'Don't you think the DCI's jumping the gun a bit? I mean, if it wasn't for Angela Waters and Tiffany May, we wouldn't be getting all het up over some fourteen-year-old who goes to a party and doesn't come home straight away, would we? It's not like it doesn't happen all the time.' His confident assertion turned into a plea. 'We're only jumping through all these hoops because of the strangler.'

  'Yes,' Geraldine agreed. 'We're doing all this because of the strangler. And yes, as it happens, I think she's right.'

  'My guess is she'll go back to her parents when she's ready,' Peterson insisted, but his face was drawn with tension.

  'Fancy a drink on the way home?' she asked him. The DS shook his head and mumbled something about needing to get home.

  Geraldine drove back to her flat early. She could have stayed on at the station but she needed a break. Perhaps a girl going missing when there was a killer abroad was no more than an appalling coincidence. Carter was right – she
was
letting the stress get to her. She needed to be more detached. Catching sight of the estate agent's card propped up on the shelf in her hall she wondered whether Craig Hudson might offer her a brief distraction from the haunting images of Angela Waters and Tiffany May. Any company would be better than none during this interminable waiting. And by some miracle the missing girl might even have turned up by the morning.

40

Return

Melanie hesitated on the doorstep. At least her keys had been in her pocket, or Terry might have taken her car. And the keys to her parents' house. Bracing herself, she turned the key in the lock and breathed in the clean scent of home. Roman came running along the parquet floor, paws sliding in a wild rush. He barked once. Melanie sank to her knees and buried her face in his warm fur, grinning with relief as his tail thumped a welcome tattoo on the floor. Nora came out of the dining room, holding a tray.

  She caught sight of Melanie and a smile rose to her lips. 'Melanie!' Nora turned and scuttled back into the dining room. Melanie heard a murmur of voices. She had barely clambered to her feet, when she felt her mother's arms around her shoulders and the warmth of her body. Then her father was smiling and patting her awkwardly on the back as though she'd just given birth.

  It was tough confessing to her parents that Terry had taken her jewellery, including some of her mother's heirlooms. Her father narrowed his eyes but said nothing. She listened to her parents discussing the situation later, when they thought she was out of earshot.

  'Are the police going to be interested, Lynda? The boy could claim they were a gift.' Melanie heard the gentle buzz of her mother's voice but couldn't make out what she was saying. 'It's her word against his,' her father replied. 'I'd rather leave it, Lynda. Let's just take it on the chin and move on or it'll turn into a whole media circus. Just drop it. It could be a lot worse.' She heard her mother crying and her father conceding. 'All right, I'll get onto the police in the morning. But they'd better be discreet. And I don't want that little shit mentioned in front of Melanie. She's suffered enough. Let's not make it any worse for her.' Melanie crept upstairs, for once grateful for her father's protection. As far as she was concerned, that was the end of the affair.

  Later that evening Lucy phoned and Melanie agreed to go out with her friends. She'd cried long enough over Terry. He wasn't worth it. But as she drove through the high wrought iron gates, a posse of journalists sprang from nowhere to surround her, blocking her car in every direction. Somehow they'd got wind of her affair and had been waiting to grill her. Melanie swore out loud. On top of everything else, she was going to be late to meet the girls. If she didn't hurry, Lucy and Hannah would set off to London without her.

  'Melanie! Can you confirm your parents have disinherited you?'

  'Miss Rogers, what are your plans for the future?'

  'Are you getting married?'

  'Where's your boyfriend?'

  'Tell us his name, Melanie. Just give us a name.'

  Melanie gritted her teeth as cameras flashed. She'd forgotten how intrusive journalists could be. If her father threw a party it was reported as a key event hosted by a major force resurfacing in the UK music industry. He had only to sneeze in public and the media suspected terminal pneumonia for an ageing rock star from a bygone era.

  'Miss Rogers, what has your father got to say about your love affair?'

  'Melanie!'

  'Melanie! Can you tell us anything?'

  As it happened, she had a story that would make their keyboards crackle. She could just imagine the headlines in the tabloid press: 'Melanie Rogers Ripped off by Cheating Lover'. The thought of her private humiliation being made public made her cringe. She bit her lip, and turned away from the cameras.

  'Miss Rogers!'

  'Melanie!'

  'Have you got anything to say?'

  'Anything to tell us, Melanie?'

  'Yes,' she thought furiously, 'I can tell you lot to fuck off,' but she answered primly, 'No comment,' her voice drowned in the camera clicks and shouting. She gave a wonky attempt at one of her mother's gracious smiles as she put her foot down and reversed back through the entrance and a security guard closed the gate. Melanie hurried into the house, cursing. She knew she wouldn't be able to hide away indefinitely but she wasn't ready to face the reporters yet.

  She dialled Lucy's number. No answer. If she'd thought to ask where her friends were heading, she could still have joined them, but they were probably on their way to London by now.

  She tried Hannah's number. 'Hi this is Hannah. Leave a message and I'll call you back.'

  Melanie's mother came out into the hall. 'I thought you were going out,' she said.

  'Changed my mind,' Melanie smiled. She didn't want to upset her mother any more. At least those bloody reporters had taught her how to hide her feelings.

41

Lake

Jim was good at hiding things. Leaving the girl under his mattress, he went out into the night. He didn't find Miss Elsie but he had a clever idea. He knew how he could move the girl without being seen. She'd be safe in the park. He watched a car go by and grinned. He'd never passed a test so they wouldn't give him a car but he knew what to do. He knew how to watch and learn.

  'You see, you're good at lots of things,' Miss Elsie said. He loved Miss Elsie but she didn't like it when he told her so, even though she let him sing it with everybody else.

  'Close by me forever and love me I pray.' Miss Elsie taught him that. That was when he'd known she wanted him to love her. Even his mother had never asked that of him.

  It was easy to borrow a car. He had to check a lot of doors until he found one he could open. He was looking for a van but he found a car instead. He drove slowly up the road. He bumped into the kerb and laughed uneasily. The wheels on the car went round and round. He had to be careful not to hit them too hard or they might burst. He shut his eyes tight and giggled.

  She was heavier than before but he carried her down the passage all by himself. It wasn't easy because she wouldn't help him.

  'Don't be put off when it isn't easy,' Miss Elsie told him. 'You can do it if you try.' He had to make sure no one was watching. 'Look right, look left, look right again,' Miss Elsie told him, but he stared straight ahead and hurried to the car with the girl in his arms. If anyone asked, he'd tell them she was his girlfriend and she was drunk. His mother couldn't walk when she was drunk. Men carried her.

  He'd wrapped the girl in a coat but she was still cold. It was dark. No one saw them hurrying from the passageway to the car. That was lucky because she struggled a lot. She didn't want to go in the car. He wanted her to lie down on the back seat of the car but she made herself all stiff and refused to move, even when he made his gloved hand into a fist and hit her, hard. He had to bend her and twist her until she fitted in and he could shut the door. It was hard work but he didn't want to drive with the door open and her head sticking out.

  'We mustn't draw attention to ourselves,' Miss Elsie told him and he nodded. He knew that.

  Once he got her in the car, she lay as good as gold on the back seat while he drove her to the park. The streets were mostly empty. He passed two cars but no one paid him any attention.

  'We're OK,' he told her. 'Soon be there.' She wanted to know where they were going. She was always asking questions. 'I'm taking you to the park, and I told you that before. It's so you can be clean.' He told her and told her but she never listened. No one listened to him. 'I don't know why I bother,' he said. 'You never listen.'

  He drove right up to the gates and stopped the car with a sudden jerk. He was too clever to drive into the park because he knew the car would leave secret clues on the mud. He'd seen on the telly that cars left patterns on the ground. The police were clever at finding clues, but he was clever too. He was getting more and more clever every day, with all the thinking he had to do.

  It was difficult getting her out of the car. Now he'd brought her all the way to the park, she didn't want to move. She was awkward and heavy but there was no one about. No one saw them. He had to pull her and pull her to get her out and it wasn't easy, but he didn't care. He was happy to be back in the park where she'd be safe.

  'You can't have a bath in a coat, silly. Now be careful. The water's very cold, but it's clean.' She didn't want to get in. He had to push her. She didn't splash much. The moon came out. He looked up and saw a fox staring at him, silent in the silvery light.

  'Go away,' he said, 'it's private.' Without a sound, the fox turned and trotted away into the darkness. She bobbed about on the water, swimming. He put her coat round his shoulders because he was cold.

  He couldn't remember where he'd found the car so he drove it slowly back up the road and left it somewhere. It didn't matter where.

  'No one will know unless you tell them,' Miss Elsie said. He was very pleased when he got safely back to the shed. 'Well done,' Miss Elsie said, 'you get a merit star for being clean.'

  'And one for being clever?'

  'Oh, all right then,' she agreed and he smiled. He was getting very clever at this game. That night he slept well.

42

Protest

Geraldine was confused when she came to, naked, in a strange bed, feeling as though a ton weight was pressing down on her head. The sound of someone breathing startled her into wakefulness. A man was lying next to her beneath an unfamiliar duvet, the back of a tousled head plainly visible on the pillow. One of her shoulders ached and she explored it carefully, wondering if she'd fallen, or stumbled into a wall. Stretching her legs, she tried to recall the previous evening. She'd phoned Craig who had obligingly taken her out.