The Final Minute (11 page)

I nodded, and stepped out into the rain.

Thirteen

Tina’s next appointment was with Sheryl Warner, the girl who’d rung earlier in the day to talk about Alan Donaldson’s daughter, Lauren, having seen the piece in the
Mail.
It seemed the two of them had been friends, and after a short conversation with her, Tina had decided that she was well worth visiting.

On the drive to her house, she thought about Sean Egan. The problem was she couldn’t make up her mind about him. She was almost certain he wasn’t lying about what had happened to him (although the dream in which he’d described Lauren appearing seemed too coincidental), and he’d never struck her as the kind of man who’d rape a woman. But Tina had learned from her long career in the police that seemingly charming, balanced people were capable of doing some terrible things when the mood took them, and Sean had certainly proved capable of violence during that very short space of time he’d been in her orbit all those years back. He’d taken the law into his own hands by unofficially infiltrating a gang of armed robbers and being directly involved in the kidnap of a murder suspect. The murder suspect and all the gang, with the exception of Sean, had ended up dead, and although he’d not been charged in connection with the events, it didn’t mean he hadn’t been responsible for at least some of the killings. It crossed her mind to report what Sean had told her to her former colleagues in the police. After all, by his own admission he had important information about two murders, and if she didn’t say anything she was leaving herself open to charges of perverting the course of justice and assisting an offender.

Even so, she decided that for now she’d keep quiet and play things by ear. It would be useful to talk to the woman who’d accused Sean of rape, and whose evidence had put him behind bars, but it wouldn’t be easy. Like all rape victims, the woman had lifelong anonymity and Tina would have to pull some strings with old contacts if she was going to track her down. And then what? Even if Sean was completely innocent, the woman was never going to admit it. That was the problem with date rape: it was one person’s word against another. And yet Tina knew she’d feel better about working with Sean once she’d at least had the chance to talk to the woman who, as far as a jury was concerned, had been his victim.

Sheryl Warner lived at the southern end of Camden Town, close to Morningside tube station. Tina knew the area well. It wasn’t far from where she’d lived for a while with her then boyfriend, a fellow cop called John Gallan; there was an Italian restaurant called Conti’s they’d both liked just off the high street. That had been the last time she’d lived with anyone, and it was a long time back now. John had been dead eight years, and it made her wonder where the time had gone, and what she’d be doing in another eight years.

There was no parking near the flats so Tina found a spot on a meter a few streets away. It had been raining but the sky was now beginning to clear. Her route took her past the street where Conti’s was and she couldn’t resist a glance to see if it was still there. But it was gone, replaced with a coffee shop that looked to be doing a roaring trade, and in a way that pleased Tina because she knew that seeing Conti’s as she remembered it, with its traditional red and white chequered tablecloths and empty wine bottles lining the walls, would have just made her sad.

Sheryl’s flat was on the first floor of a large townhouse opposite a well-kept park. At first glance it all looked very nice, like an estate agent’s photo, but a closer look revealed that the park was clearly a hangout for drunks, and barely twenty yards from Sheryl’s front door, but just out of sight, was a dilapidated pre-fab pub that looked more like a fortress, backing on to a huge high-rise estate. As was so often the case in London, Tina thought: turn a corner into the next street and everything changes.

After being buzzed in, Tina climbed a creaking staircase that smelled vaguely of damp. Before she could knock on the door at the top it was opened by a petite blonde girl in her mid-twenties looking effortlessly pretty and cool in a pink vest, grey track pants and thick socks. She smiled widely, revealing newly whitened teeth that were a bit too big for her mouth. ‘Hi Tina,’ she said in a voice that veered dangerously close to cutesy. ‘Nice to meet you.’ She stuck out a hand, and Tina shook it. ‘Come in.’

Sheryl led her into a spacious living room that smelled of perfume and cigarettes and looked like it could use a decent spring clean, and plonked herself down on the sofa, gesturing for Tina to take a seat in the armchair next to it.

‘Excuse the mess, I had a late one last night.’

And it was a mess too, with cups, crockery and half-full ashtrays dotted around on all available surfaces, and a lot of strewn clothes. The curtains were closed too and all the lights were on, which gave the place a claustrophobic feel.

Tina removed a top from the chair and placed it on the carpet before sitting down, thinking that at three o’clock in the afternoon the excuse that you hadn’t had time to clear up didn’t really wash.

As was her habit, she got straight down to business. ‘When was the last time you saw Lauren Donaldson?’

‘Not for a long time now.’

‘Can you be more specific?’

She giggled. ‘I’m not very good with dates.’

‘Try,’ said Tina. ‘This is a missing person we’re talking about.’

Sheryl looked taken aback by her tone but didn’t argue. Instead she pulled a face of intense concentration, like a kid. ‘Well, it was quite a few months ago. Probably March, April? She was in a club with Jen. Jen was a good friend of hers. They used to hang out a lot.’

‘Has Jen got a last name?’

She thought about it for a moment. ‘Jones. Yeah, Jen Jones.’

Tina wrote it down.

‘Sheryl, I’ve had real trouble finding the latest address for Lauren. Do you know where she was living when you last saw her?’

‘She was living with Jen. I went up there once after a party last summer. Their flat was in Chalk Farm, not that far from here. To be honest, I was pretty wasted so I can’t remember the exact address.’

‘Do you have any idea where I can find Jen?’

Sheryl shook her head. ‘No. I haven’t seen her for a long time either. I think the last time I saw her she was with Lauren.’

Tina was beginning to wonder if she was wasting her time here. ‘So how did you know Lauren?’

‘We met at a party a couple of years ago. We kind of hit it off and arranged to meet afterwards. We used to be part of the same scene.’

‘And what kind of scene was that?’

‘It’s like a party scene. You go to different clubs and parties … you know.’

‘So it was a social circuit?’

‘Yeah,’ said Sheryl unconvincingly. ‘I suppose.’

‘Can you give me the names of any of the other people on this circuit who’d know Lauren?’

‘Erm … God, I don’t know.’

‘How many of you were there on this party circuit of yours? Because it’s interesting, no one else has contacted me regarding Lauren’s disappearance.’

‘I think some people probably want to remain anonymous.’

Tina felt her antennae prick up. This was what often happened in detective work. You dug slowly, bit by bit, and sometimes it seemed like you weren’t getting anywhere. Then you struck something interesting, and potentially valuable. ‘Why would that be?’

Sheryl seemed uncomfortable for the first time. She grabbed a packet of cigarettes from the table beside her and lit one, offering the pack to Tina, who waved it away. She’d smoked two cigarettes on the way down here and that was enough for now.

Sheryl took a short drag on the cigarette, as if she didn’t really enjoy it, before looking at Tina through the smoke. ‘Look, can I ask you a question? What do you think happened to Lauren?’

‘I don’t know,’ said Tina, ‘but I’m worried about her. She hasn’t been seen for months; her Facebook page seems to have been taken down; her phone’s out of service. Her brother, who seems to be the only person she used to talk to regularly, hasn’t been able to get hold of her since early April.’

‘Is that Ben? She always talked about him. He was the only one of her family Lauren liked.’ She took another half-hearted drag on the cigarette. ‘You know, I’m worried about her too. I tried calling her a few times but, like you said, her phone’s dead.’

‘Have you tried Jen’s?’

‘Once. I didn’t know her as well as Lauren. But her phone was dead too. I said to people that I hadn’t seen them, but no one seemed that bothered. It was like they just weren’t there any more, and everything just moved on. It’s like that on the party scene really. People drift in and out.’ She paused. ‘You’re not a cop any more, are you?’

‘No, I’m not. Anything you tell me will be treated with the utmost confidentiality. All I’m interested in is finding Lauren.’ And this woman Jen, Tina thought. That she too seemed to have disappeared around the same time was coincidental to say the least.

‘There are a lot of drugs at some of the parties I go to,’ continued Sheryl. ‘Rich guys too. Guys who buy you things, take you away to nice places. And, you know, if they’re good to you, you’re good to them.’

‘I think I understand.’

‘One of the guys who kind of organizes a lot of the parties, he sometimes approaches girls and asks if they want to make some extra money.’

‘Doing what?’

‘You know, escort work. He asked me a couple of times but I didn’t want to do it. But I think Lauren might have been doing some. She always seemed to have a lot of cash.’

‘Can you tell me the name of this guy who organizes these parties?’

‘He’s still a friend of mine. What are you going to do to him?’

‘I’m just going to talk to him, that’s all. I’m sure he’ll want to help.’

Sheryl pulled a face. ‘I don’t know if he will. I asked him about Lauren before, and he didn’t want to talk about her then. He just said he hadn’t seen her in a while and that was it, you know?’

Tina leaned forward in her seat, fixing Sheryl with a serious look. ‘I won’t tell him we spoke, and I’ll make sure your name never gets mentioned, but if your friend knows something about Lauren, I need to find it out.’

‘Seriously, you don’t want to mess him about. He knows people.’ Sheryl emphasized the ‘knows’. ‘Once there was a black guy after him for money over something and he ended up getting shot.’

Tina had no idea if this was true or not, and didn’t much care. ‘Don’t worry about me, I can handle him.’

Sheryl smiled. ‘Yeah, that’s what I like about you. You look like you don’t take shit off guys.’

‘I don’t take it from anyone. And nothing’ll happen to you. You’ve got my word on that.’

Sheryl sighed. ‘His name’s Dylan Mackay. I’ve got his phone number if you want it.’

Tina knew that if she phoned him, she’d get nowhere, but she took it anyway. ‘Do you have an address for him?’

Sheryl shook her head. ‘I’ve never been to his house, but I think it’s in Kensington somewhere.’

‘I’ll find him,’ said Tina, making a note of the details. ‘Do you have any up-to-date photos of Lauren and Jen?’

‘Yeah, I’ve got a few on my Facebook page.’ She looked round on the sofa until she found an iPad in a pink case.

Tina waited while she logged on to her account, thinking that it was an empty life this girl led, stuck in a messy flat on her own, going to parties with people she didn’t really know and who didn’t really care about her. She needed to get out and do something different – although the irony of this thought, given her own solitary existence, was not lost on Tina.

‘Look, here’s one of the three of us,’ said Sheryl, coming over and planting herself on the arm of Tina’s chair. She leaned in with the iPad so they could both see the screen.

The picture was a good one of the three women. They were clearly at a party, all wearing pretty but very revealing dresses, their faces made up like they were trying just a bit too hard, all grinning at the camera. Sheryl was on the left. She was holding a full glass of champagne and had her arm round Lauren’s shoulders. Lauren’s grin was more of a playful pout, and she looked the worse for wear. Tina’s gaze settled on the woman on the right. This was Jen, and with her peroxide blonde hair and thick, luscious lips she was the sexiest-looking of the three, and definitely the most worldly-wise. Even her smile looked calculated. Tina had no doubt she was a leader rather than a follower.

‘That was taken at China White’s,’ said Sheryl proudly. ‘I remember it was a good night.’

Tina looked at the date on the post: 28 March. It immediately struck her that this was only eleven days before Sean had his car accident.

‘Was this the last time you saw them?’ she asked.

‘You know what? I reckon it might have been. In fact, yeah, I’m sure it was.’

The timing concerned Tina but she kept it to herself. ‘Have you got any photos of Dylan?’

‘A couple, I think.’ She took back the iPad and scrolled through until she found a picture of a good-looking guy of about thirty taken at yet another party. He was tanned, with dark curly hair, and carried a look of money and breeding. Tina disliked him immediately.

She got to her feet and handed a business card to Sheryl, thanking her for her time. ‘Could you download both those photos and email them to me, and any others you’ve got of Lauren and Jen?’

‘Sure,’ said Sheryl, walking Tina to the door, ‘but don’t forget to keep me out of everything with Dylan.’

Tina reiterated that she would, but as she walked back down the staircase, she wondered if she’d be able to keep her word. If she started asking questions it wouldn’t take too long for Dylan to suspect Sheryl of having a hand in it, and Tina doubted if she’d stand up too well under questioning. But there was nothing she could do about that. Her priority was to find Lauren.

Or perhaps more likely, what had happened to her.

Fourteen

St Mary’s A and E was busy and loud, and most of the chairs in the open-plan waiting room were occupied by the walking wounded, and quite a few who didn’t look too ill at all.

It had taken me a good few minutes to explain to the receptionist what was wrong with me. Acute amnesia, it seemed, wasn’t a regular problem round here, or an emergency. Things also weren’t helped by the fact that there was no National Health number for a Matthew Barron, and I didn’t want to give her my real name, so I just shrugged and acted dumb. In the end, she’d made me fill out a form (which hadn’t taken long), and told me to take a seat along with everyone else.