Gone (13 page)

Lucas pushed aside the packets of biscuits and was about to close the drawer when something caught his eye. He pulled out a set of keys and shook his head. These were supposed to be the people making the world a better place. Fucking idiots.

Lucas swung the door open and walked into the office. He noticed there was no window and felt around the wall next to the door, flipping on the light switch. The warm light revealed a depressingly sparse room. He pulled at the top drawer in the filing cabinet. Locked. He turned to a desk and rummaged about in the drawers. Nothing but chocolate biscuits and a newspaper from the week before. He scanned the desk looking for a hidey-hole where someone might stash keys. Coming up empty-handed, Lucas kicked the bottom of the filing cabinet. He tried the other drawers, knowing it wouldn’t help.

He stood in the middle of the room and considered his options. He could nick the computer, maybe make a bit of cash if nothing else. But that wasn’t what he wanted. He came for information and he was going to get it.

‘Fuck,’ he muttered. He booted a wicker waste-paper basket across the room, causing debris to scatter. He should just trash the place out of fucking spite. He walked to the door and then stopped and pulled it away from the wall, noticing a small cabinet tucked away in the corner, buried under pots full of dying plants. He bent down and tried the keys again. Finally he got the right one and pulled open the drawer. Several files were stacked inside and a small metal box was placed on top. As Lucas lifted the box out he heard the clatter of loose change. He put it aside and pulled out the files. He opened the first few and recognised the names Catherine and Andrea. Bingo. He threw aside the ones belonging to current staff and kept looking. No Ben Swales.

‘Fuck,’ he muttered again and threw the files across the floor. There was no information on Ben. No clues to where he’d gone. Lucas leaned against the wall. The blonde said Ben had gone home to look after his mum. What else would he have told her? Lucas scanned the scattered pile of records. Andrea Round. He pulled the file out and scanned the information for what he wanted. If her records were up to date, Andrea Round lived a fag-end flick away from The Fox and Hounds, not far from the bedsit. It wasn’t the kind of establishment he frequented himself. But he knew from passing on his way into town that Tuesday was quiz night and that it was populated by middle-aged losers with nothing better to do and no one to do it with. If he couldn’t find Ben Swales he was willing to bet he’d be able to find Andrea.

Lucas grabbed the metal money box, smiling as he made his way back to the window. He was one step closer to finding Ben. And to finding out what he knew.

Chapter 27

14 December 2010

Gardner tried to decide if the flat looked even sadder
with
the four-foot Christmas tree than it had without. Maybe Tom Waits playing in the background was making things worse. He hadn’t put decorations up for years, didn’t much see the point. More often than not he chose to work Christmas. Let the people with lives have the time off.

The tree and accompanying decorations were an impulse buy from Tesco on his way home. He’d only gone in for something for his tea. But the thought that there could be a message waiting for him at home from the dating site had spurred a sudden desire to get into the Christmas spirit. He didn’t want anyone he brought home to think he was a miserable git. So he’d grabbed the last Christmas tree left on the shelf and gathered up a selection of mismatched baubles and tinsel. On the drive home he realised he was decorating the place for an imaginary woman. He hadn’t even been in touch with anyone yet. He wondered if he could get any lower.

He remembered the tree he’d bought with Annie for their first Christmas as a married couple. They’d barely managed to get it through the door. They spent hours decorating it. Every bauble he put on she’d moved somewhere else. This time he’d do it his own way.

The ping from the laptop perked him up. One new message. Gardner clicked onto his emails, deflated when he saw the message from B&Q offering him a discount on power tools. Was this who he was now? He was going to be forty-six next month and he was reduced to scouring the internet for dates and getting emails from DIY stores.

He clicked onto the dating site and logged in. No new messages. Maybe give it a week or so and people would start getting desperate about being alone for Christmas. He scrolled through a list of women who met his basic requirements. He didn’t think he was being that fussy. He didn’t care about things like hair colour or height. He was fairly open about age, although he didn’t want anyone too old or too young. He didn’t want to be
that
guy. Most of them looked pretty normal. But how did you know? They could all be complete lunatics. Maybe they felt the same about him. He thought he was pretty normal.

He sighed. Maybe he needed to start sending messages to them instead of waiting for someone to land in his inbox. Isn’t that what women wanted? For the man to do the chasing? But it all felt so desperate. He couldn’t face all the time it’d take to write a message (and he knew it would take forever to get it right) for them to then decline his offer – or worse, ignore him altogether. He felt a stab of guilt at the message he’d ignored himself. But really? Hats for cats?

Gardner logged out and closed the laptop. Maybe tomorrow. He got up, turned the light off and switched the Christmas lights on. It almost made the room look cosy. Gardner’s fingers tapped on the computer lid and Tom Waits started singing ‘Please Call Me, Baby’. Tomorrow he’d do something. He’d make a move.

He checked his voicemail. One new message from DS Freeman in Blyth, wanting more information on Ben Swales. Could he give her a call back? He pushed his phone across the table. He didn’t want to get involved in this again.

He looked around him at the sad Christmas tree. At the sad little life he’d made for himself. He couldn’t hide from the world forever.

Chapter 28

25 October 1999

‘DS Gardner? A word, please.’

Gardner followed his boss through the office, past the prying eyes of his colleagues. He knew he was being paranoid. But it bothered him more than he cared to admit. He didn’t know how many of them had known about the affair
before
he did. But every last one of them knew about it now. Threatening to castrate Wallace in front of the whole team probably hadn’t helped with keeping it under wraps. DC Bob McIlroy smirked as he walked past. He hated McIlroy almost as much as he hated Wallace, if that were possible. McIlroy was Wallace’s lap-dog. Wallace said jump, McIlroy said thanks for the opportunity to jump. Gardner had no doubt in his mind that McIlroy had known about Wallace and Annie long before he had, and that bothered him almost as much as the affair itself.

DCI Clarkson ushered him into her office and Gardner gritted his teeth as McIlroy muttered something under his breath.

Clarkson closed her office door and pointed to the seat in front of her desk. ‘Take a seat, DS Gardner,’ she said. She always referred to people by their rank, maybe to keep the lower ranks in their place. Gardner didn’t mind. He hadn’t quite got used to being a DS yet. He was beyond surprised that he’d managed to pass the exam, with everything that’d been going on. He’d only just scraped a 2:2 for his degree, but to be fair he’d put a lot less effort into studying at university than he had for the sergeant’s exam. When you’re twenty-one and living in London, there are better things to do than read Chaucer.

‘How’s your relationship with DS Wallace these days?’ she asked.

At first Gardner thought she was taking the piss, though Clarkson wasn’t known for her humour. She knew what had happened as well as the rest of the team. She’d been the one to pull them apart when he’d threatened Wallace’s family jewels. She may have been almost a foot shorter than they were, with the build of a malnourished sparrow, but she still managed to drag them off each other and Gardner into her office for a bollocking. Which was kind of what he’d been threatening Wallace with.

‘Let me put it this way,’ Clarkson continued. ‘If I asked if you could work together on something, what would you say? Do you think you could manage it without killing one another?’

Gardner’s stomach churned. She wanted him to work with Wallace? He could barely manage to pass him in the corridor without wanting to punch his face in. He wasn’t even going to go to the Christmas party, which he usually never missed, in order to avoid him. And now she thought it’d be a good idea for them to work together. She was more sadistic than he’d thought.

‘What did Wallace say?’ Gardner asked.

Clarkson almost cracked a smile. ‘He asked what you’d said.’ She stood up, indicating he should do the same. ‘It’s a big case. Think about it. Let me know.’

Gardner’s foot tapped under her desk. ‘I’m in,’ he said. He wasn’t going to let Wallace be the bigger man. He just hoped Wallace would decline the offer.

‘Good. I’ll see you both in the briefing at three,’ she said and showed him out.

Gardner sloped back to his desk. This wasn’t going to end well. He hadn’t seen Wallace for weeks; they’d somehow managed to keep out of each other’s way. He’d long since passed the stalking phase: following Annie home to her love nest; waiting to see her outside her office. He’d never actually approached her. He wasn’t sure what was more pathetic. He hadn’t even wreaked the revenge on Wallace he’d been so adamant about, other than tossing some tacks under his tyres one night.

Gardner grabbed his coat and headed out for some lunch. The shops already had Christmas decorations in stock. It was depressing. He wasn’t going to bother putting the tree up at home. What was the point? He’d be spending Christmas alone this year. Facing his parents was too much to bear. Or rather, facing his dad would be. No doubt he’d find some way of making it all Gardner’s fault. Norman Gardner had quite the knack of making
everything
his son’s fault.

Plus Gardner’s brother, David, would be bringing his girlfriend, who was six months pregnant. He didn’t think he could take their smugness. He’d rather sit by himself with a takeaway watching
Only Fools and Horses
. Failing that, he could always go to work.

As he walked out of Greggs, pasty in hand, he saw a familiar face across the road. Ray Thorley appeared to have aged years in the last few months. The investigation into his daughter’s disappearance had come to a standstill. Although this had been the longest she’d stayed away, there was no evidence that anything had happened to her. She was just another runaway.

He watched as Ray trudged by, shopping bags full of meals for one, and wondered how he’d be spending Christmas. Gardner couldn’t help but wonder if he’d done enough for him and his daughter.

Chapter 29

14 December 2010

Freeman stared into the glass of sherry Lady Clairville had handed her. She hated sherry but didn’t want to offend her host.

‘So, I take it things are over with you and your fella,’ Lady Clairville said, settling back into her recliner chair.

‘Yep,’ Freeman said and took a sip, cringing at the taste.

‘So you’re going to your parents for Christmas, then?’

Freeman shook her head and then thought about it. Her dad said they’d be going to her older brother Mark’s family down in Wales. She was welcome to go but it was unlikely. She had too much work to do. Things to sort out. Plus she didn’t think she could face a day, never mind a week, with four screaming kids going into overdrive after too many selection boxes. She loved her nieces and nephew but only in very small, highly controlled doses. And Christmas wasn’t a small dose no matter how brief your stay. Plus, she doubted her mum really wanted her there.

‘No, they’re off to see my brother and his family,’ she said.

‘You’re not going?’

‘Nah,’ Freeman said.

‘Have you just the one sibling?’

Freeman took another sip of sherry. She wondered if Darren counted now. If someone you hadn’t spoken to, who refused to speak to you, for eight years counted. Did someone who was dead for all you knew count?

‘Yeah, just one,’ she said and left it at that.

‘So it’ll just be you for Christmas, then?’

She wondered if Lady C was angling for an invite for Christmas dinner. She’d regret it if she was. Freeman had no idea where to start with making a proper roast. She could barely boil an egg. She watched as Lady C topped up her glass and wondered if that would be her in forty years. Sitting watching
Family Fortunes
with just a small dog to keep her company.