Gone (18 page)

The door opened and a woman answered. She was dressed in an unbelievably short skirt and vest top despite the weather. At first Freeman wondered if it was Jenny. But closer inspection revealed the woman was much older.

‘Yeah?’ the woman said.

‘I’m DS Freeman,’ she said, showing her ID. ‘Are you Angela Taylor?’

‘Angie,’ she said and stepped forward, arms wrapped around herself. Freeman couldn’t decide whether it was a defensive gesture or just that she was, understandably, freezing. ‘Why?’

‘It’s about your daughter, Jenny.’ Freeman saw Angie stiffen. From behind her a man appeared, hunched over slightly.

‘This is my husband, Malcolm,’ Angie said. ‘She’s here about Jenny,’ she said over her shoulder to her husband.

‘Oh God,’ Malcolm moaned.

‘Don’t worry, nothing’s happened. I was just wondering if you had a number for her. I need to speak to her regarding Emma Thorley, someone she used to know in Blyth.’

‘Blyth?’ Angie said.

‘Yes,’ Freeman replied, wishing they’d invite her in. ‘It’s going back a bit. About eleven years.’

‘Well, we wouldn’t know anything about that. Haven’t seen her since she was sixteen.’

Chapter 39

15 December 2010

Angie walked through into the living room and Freeman followed as Malcolm shuffled between them. As he got close she saw that he wasn’t much older than his wife, maybe mid-fifties, but whatever condition he was suffering from made him appear frail. Mrs Taylor, on the other hand, was fighting the ageing process with spades of make-up and inappropriate clothes.

Malcolm made it to a seat next to Angie and Freeman sat down opposite them.

‘So you haven’t seen Jenny for . . . twelve years?’ Freeman said, trying to recall how old Jenny was.

‘Almost thirteen,’ Malcolm said.

‘Can I ask what happened?’

Angie Taylor cleared her throat and looked at her husband. He sat with his head down.

‘She just buggered off one day. Never came back,’ Angie said and lit a cigarette. Freeman didn’t want to say anything but thought she might puke all over their shag pile carpet.

‘She was always a bit of a troublemaker,’ Angie went on, and Malcolm let out a breath that made Freeman turn her attention to him. ‘She
was
, Mal. You know she was. Always in trouble right from when she was a little girl.’

‘That’s our daughter you’re talking about. It’s no bloody wonder she left,’ Malcolm said.

Angie pursed her lips and looked back at Freeman. ‘She was expelled from school twice. She got into fights with other kids. Girls
and
boys. She never did well at school, she wasn’t the brightest kid—’

‘For God’s sake, Angie,’ Malcolm said.

‘Anyway,’ Angie said, looking pointedly at Malcolm, ‘she’d run away a few times before, always for a few days and then she’d be back. She’d make promises that she’d be good but she just couldn’t do it. It wasn’t in her nature. She started doing drugs when she was thirteen.’ Angie sat forward and stared at Freeman. ‘Thirteen. Can you imagine?’

Freeman said nothing. But she could imagine. She could imagine far worse because she’d seen it for herself. Darren had been younger when he started drinking.

‘She started lying. I mean she always told lies, but not like this. She stole from us. Her own parents. She took my credit card, ran it right up to the limit buying God knows what and then sold it all for drugs. She was shoplifting, sleeping with anyone who’d have her—’

‘Angie!’ Malcolm shouted and his wife looked at him, eyes wide as if he’d dare raise his voice to her.

Freeman took a breath and put her hands up to try and placate them. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, ‘but when was her disappearance reported?’

Malcolm let out a bitter laugh that turned into a cough. Angie reached over and rubbed her husband’s back until he calmed down. When he was composed again he looked up at Freeman. ‘That’s the thing,’ he said. ‘We never reported her missing.’

Freeman’s eyebrows rose. She couldn’t help it. ‘You never reported your daughter missing?’

Malcolm looked at the floor again and Angie sucked in her cheeks and stared at the wall above Freeman’s head.

‘And when did she disappear?’

‘1997. May. We tried to help her, time and time again,’ Angie said. ‘We did. But she didn’t want help. All she wanted was money and drugs.’ Finally she looked Freeman in the eye. ‘Before she went for the last time she did something.’ Angie pulled a tissue from her handbag and wiped her nose. ‘I was at home one day. I’d come home from work with flu. I was in bed and I heard the door and then all these voices. Three or four of them, another one sat out in the car, waiting for them. I went downstairs and she was there with three boys. Or three men, I suppose. They were taking everything. The TV, the stereo, everything.

‘We didn’t have a lot. I don’t even know that they would’ve got much money for it but they were taking it anyway. I screamed at her to stop but she wouldn’t. Two of the boys pushed past me, carrying the TV out to a car. I knew one of them, his dad lived round the corner. Little bastard he was. Chris something.’

‘Christian Morton?’ Freeman asked.

‘Yeah. That’s him. His dad was a right one as well. Anyway, I told them I was calling the police and went into the kitchen to the phone. I could hear the other boy shouting, telling her to hurry up but she came in the kitchen after me. I picked up the phone and was about to dial when she had this knife in my face. My own daughter standing there, threatening me with a knife.’ Angie shook her head and Malcolm put his hand over hers.

‘I put the phone down. I was shaking so much but I begged her to put the knife down and go. I said she could have the TV, have whatever she wanted. And she just looked at me with such hatred. I’ve never seen anything like that before. The boy came back in and told her they were leaving so she stepped back and I thought that was it. But as the boy walked out she came forward again and pressed the knife into my face.’ Angie swept her hair back and turned towards Freeman. An inch long scar ran along Angie’s face, parallel to her ear. ‘She did this to me.’ Angie sat back and sucked in her cheeks again. ‘I didn’t want her back.’

Freeman frowned. ‘You didn’t report it to the police?’

Angie shook her head. ‘No. I thought it’d make things worse. And when she didn’t come back after a week I knew she was gone for good.’ Angie shrugged. ‘Maybe she thought I’d called the police and thought better of coming back. Or maybe she’d already decided to go and that was her final fuck you, Mother.’

Freeman cringed, thinking about the difficult relationship she had with her own mother. In the aftermath of Darren’s arrest, she’d barely spoken to her. Blamed her for everything that’d happened. And in some ways she
was
to blame. Freeman was the one who’d told the police where they could find him. But she hadn’t forced him to do what he did. And after a couple of years inside even her mum had to admit that maybe Freeman had done what was best for Darren. Got him the help he needed. It was only once he got out and things turned to shit again that her relationship with her mum soured once more. At the memorial service they held for him, her mum didn’t even look at her, never mind speak. But that was five years ago and in the intervening years Lorraine Freeman had softened slightly. Was willing to admit it wasn’t
all
her daughter’s fault.

‘We did look for her, eventually.’

Freeman glanced at Angie and from her expression she guessed that the search had been her husband’s idea. ‘Three years ago I was diagnosed with cancer,’ he said. ‘It was a difficult decision but I wanted to make amends, wanted to see her again. We hired this private detective. We figured it was a bit late to file a missing persons report with the police so we got this private eye type. He looked for a while but he didn’t find her. We thought she probably didn’t want to be found. We gave up after that.’

Chapter 40

20 May 1999

Emma watched as Ben drove away, leaving her on the doorstep, scared to go inside her own home. He’d asked if she wanted him to go in with her but she’d said no. He’d done enough for her. She was on her own now.

Jasmine had told her the night before that she was really sorry but they needed the bed. A woman with a three-month-old baby was coming in. Emma had begged her to let her stay but it was no good. So sorry, Jasmine said. So she’d called Ben and he promised to pick her up in the morning. She’d cried all the way home, begged him to let her stay with him, or to find somewhere else to go. Hell, she would’ve settled for a lift to the bus station. Anything but go home.

But here she was. Home.

Someone told Ben he’d seen Lucas around with another girl. Maybe it meant Lucas had moved on. That he’d got bored of torturing her and had found another plaything. She felt bad for the girl, whoever she was. But she had to think of herself. As long as Lucas was out of her life, maybe things really would be okay.

Emma took a deep breath and opened the door. Her dad looked over his shoulder from his seat in the living room as if he were expecting someone to come home any time. She wondered if he was still expecting her mam to come in. She wondered if she was a disappointment.

‘Em?’ He jumped up and grabbed her, pulling her towards him. ‘You’re back.’

‘Hi, Dad,’ she said.

He stepped back and looked her over, a smile spreading across his face as if she’d just come back from a jolly holiday instead of disappearing again. ‘I wish you’d told me you were coming. I’d have got something in for tea.’

‘I didn’t know until last night,’ she said and stood there listening to the clock ticking. ‘I’m sorry, Dad.’

He just shook his head. ‘Don’t be silly. You’re back now. That’s all that matters.’ He walked out to the kitchen and started making two cups of tea. ‘Did Ben bring you? He’s a nice chap. I’m so glad you got him to come. I would’ve been so worried otherwise.’ He turned to her as the kettle boiled, suddenly sad. ‘You are going to stay this time, aren’t you?’

Emma felt a twist in her guts. How could she keep doing these things to him? How could she think it was okay to just walk away from him? From now on things would be different. She would make things right with him. She wouldn’t leave him again.

‘I promise,’ she said.

Chapter 41

15 December 2010

Adam was waffling on about the film and Louise made noises agreeing with him but if anyone had asked her what the film was about she wouldn’t have had a clue where to start. The whole thing was a blur, same as the rest of the world over the last few days. Since hearing the news about the body in Blyth she’d been unable to focus on anything else.

Adam took the shopping bags through to the kitchen and Louise closed the front door. She noticed the scrap of paper sticking out of the letterbox. She pulled it out, tearing it where the paper was soggy.

She opened the note, tried to make out the scrawl.
Please can you call DS Nicola Freeman in Blyth on . . .

Louise crumpled up the note as Adam came up behind her. ‘What’s that?’ he said.

‘Nothing,’ Louise replied. ‘Junk mail.’

Adam kissed the back of her head. ‘I’m going to get changed,’ he told her. ‘Do you want to eat now?’

Louise squeezed her hand around the note. How did they know where she was? Did they know that she was involved?

‘Lou?’ Adam said.

She looked up at him. He was waiting for her to answer him. She didn’t even know what the question was.

‘What?’ she said.

‘Do you want to eat now?’

Louise nodded and Adam headed upstairs. ‘Stick the oven on, then. I’ll just be a minute.’

Louise watched him go upstairs. He had no idea. No idea that she’d been keeping secrets from him all this time. No idea what kind of person she’d been – an addict, a whore. If he knew the things she’d done, he would hate her. And he’d have every right. She couldn’t bear it if he found out what she’d done in a past life.

Chapter 42