Then She Was Gone (11 page)

Terrified of what that answer might mean for the future.

There’s a truth to some of the things shown in crime dramas on TV. There’s also much fiction. Murphy didn’t enjoy watching them, preferring something mindless
instead. He enjoyed reading true crime books every now and again, but it wasn’t often.

Crime just wasn’t something he wanted to see dramatised.

What they don’t show you in those programmes is the hours of boredom, the endless monotony of writing reports and filling out forms. The wasted moments, hanging around, doing nothing but
wait for others to work and finish their responsibilities before you can get started.

Sitting in his car outside the flat which had been Sam Byrne’s secret hideaway was one of those times. As bleary-eyed students made their way up the hill of Mount Pleasant towards the
university, he was stuck in an increasingly uncomfortable car seat.

‘Freshers’ week starts earlier each year,’ Rossi said, mobile phone in her hand. ‘There’s a statement coming from his parents soon. We knew it wasn’t going to
be kept quiet for long. Nothing we could do about that.’

Murphy grunted a response, shaking his head and grinding his teeth. ‘Still, a day? I know the boss’ll be understanding, but that prick Butler will be a nightmare to deal with from
now on. We couldn’t keep the thing under wraps for twenty-four hours.’

Rossi sighed and ran her free hand through her hair, pushing it back from her face. ‘Do we know who blabbed yet?’

‘It’ll be one of the people who live here. Mixed with a “source” inside the department. That’s how it works these days.’

Rossi sniffed and went back to scrolling through her phone. ‘So far, it’s not really anywhere but online. The
Echo
have got it, obviously, but not much on
Sky News
or the BBC. Could be that we’d feed it by commenting.’

Murphy rubbed the bridge of his nose and wondered when things had changed so much. When he suddenly had to consider things like this?

The news of Sam Byrne’s disappearance had broken overnight and only increased from there. Now, his name was trending on Twitter and an endless stream of people having a field day with the
story on social media. That was the world he lived in now, Murphy thought. When normal, everyday people believed they had a right to comment on everything, even if they knew nothing.

‘I don’t know,’ Murphy said eventually, more to fill the silence than anything else. ‘If he’s just buggered off somewhere, maybe this’ll make him check in and
we can get on with actual police work. If not, then maybe we’ll find him sooner because of it. Or we’ll never find him because someone panics, or we find him
because
someone panics.’

‘That’s a lot of possibilities in one sentence. It was always going to happen. There’s no way someone in the public eye, especially a politician, is going to disappear and no
one find out.’

‘Suppose you’re right,’ Murphy said, lifting his radio and speaking into it for a few seconds. ‘Let’s go.’

They both exited the car, Murphy stretching a little as he did so, glad to be out of the confines of the vehicle.

‘Will anyone be up at this time?’ Murphy said, giving a nod to the uniform waiting outside. He waved over to DC Kirkham who was standing on the other side of the road, turning away
as he bounded across. ‘You know, students and that. They’re not usually early birds.’

‘Do you believe every stereotype you hear?’ Rossi replied, taking the lead and opening the door which lead into the communal hallway. ‘They’ll be up. It’s whether
they’ll be in that’ll be the issue.’

‘Uniforms say no one has left since last night. They knew we were going to be interviewing them this morning. They probably told them why as well, which is why they’re still here and
discussing it on bloody Twitter.’

Murphy held the door open for DC Kirkham, who muttered a thanks as he joined them in the hallway.

‘OK, let’s split this up. A floor each?’ Murphy said, looking at the two younger detectives.

‘Sounds good to me,’ DC Kirkham said, a touch of eagerness to his tone.

‘Laura, you take the ground floor, I’ll take the second. Jack, you take the first. Remember, no names mentioned. Just allow them to talk.’

Murphy waited for DC Kirkham to start ascending the stairs before speaking to Rossi in a low voice. ‘If they push, let them know a little bit, but we need to find out exactly what’s
been going on in that flat. Finish up quickly and join Jack. I don’t want him screwing anything up.’

Rossi gave a nod and then turned away, knocking on the first door, the sound reverberating around the hallway. If they weren’t already awake, the whole place would be by now, Murphy
thought. A minute later, he was on the top floor, walking swiftly over to the door opposite the flat Sam Byrne had rented. The door was opened while he still had a fist in the air, knuckles unused
on the wood.

‘Hello, are you them?’ a voice said from within. Murphy looked down, and then down a bit further to locate the voice. A small, mousy-looking woman peered over glasses up at him.
‘We were told you might be knocking.’

Murphy introduced himself, looking past her into the flat for anyone else lurking there. ‘Mind if I come in and have a chat?’

‘You’re not allowed to question me and enter my home if I don’t want you to, or without a caution being read.’

The girl, because that’s what she was really, he thought, was trying to maintain eye contact with him, but was failing. Her hands shook a little as she held the door. Murphy tried to make
himself half a foot shorter, but settled for tilting his head and smiling thinly.

‘Nothing to worry about,’ Murphy said, attempting his ‘soft’ voice. ‘Just a few questions about the flat opposite yours, that’s all. Can I come in and
explain?’

The woman hesitated, then she opened the door a little further and allowed him to enter. He waited for her to close the door and followed her into the living area. The flat was the same layout
as Byrne’s flat opposite, just in reverse. He looked around, widening his eyes in surprise as the expected chaos of student digs failed to materialise.

‘Nice place,’ Murphy said, still trying to allay the woman’s fears. ‘You keep a tidy home.’

‘Flatmate’s room is more what you’d think a student flat would be like,’ she replied, pushing her glasses up her nose. ‘I’d offer you a drink, but I
don’t really want to.’

Fair enough, Murphy thought. ‘Not a problem. What’s your name? You still haven’t told me.’

‘Claire,’ she replied, folding her arms across her chest. ‘Just Claire for now.’

‘OK, Claire. As I said, just a few questions and then I’ll let you get on. Mind if we sit?’

Claire hesitated again, biting her bottom lip, before moving over to a sofa and sitting on the far end of it. She motioned to a chair tucked under a small kitchen table on the other side of the
room. Murphy moved across and pulled it out. The room wasn’t exactly spacious, but it had been nicely put together: one sofa, a flat-screen television opposite it in the corner of the room.
The kitchen area was behind him and seemed clean enough. There was a faint smell of lavender in the room and a healthy-looking potted plant stood on the windowsill. There were a few prints on the
walls, but no photographs. He imagined they would be in her own room, the flatmate doing the same. This would be a communal area, purposely kept clear of anything personal.

‘I don’t know anything,’ Claire said, fixing Murphy with a stare. ‘So I don’t know why you need to speak to me.’

‘Let’s not be too hasty, Claire. You don’t know what I’m going to ask yet.’

‘It’s about the flat over the way. As I said, I don’t know anything.’

‘Let’s start at the beginning,’ Murphy said, pulling out a usually unused notepad. ‘How long have you lived here?’

‘A year. Just about to start second term at uni.’

‘Which one?’

Claire’s shoulders relaxed a little. ‘City, up the road.’

‘What are you studying there?’

‘Physics,’ Claire replied, arms now by her side. ‘Very difficult and not for the faint-hearted. I have some studying to do actually, so if we could hurry
up . . .’

Murphy held up a hand of acceptance. ‘Where are you from originally?’

‘Preston. Would you like to know what my parents do for a living, or how they met? Maybe you would like to know my grandmother’s shoe size? I don’t see what any of this has to
do with why you might be here.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Murphy said, unhappy with how the apology tasted in his mouth. ‘You’ve lived here for a year. Do you know many people in the building?’

‘A few, not many. We tend to keep to ourselves here. Thankfully, the price of the rent keeps away the ones who are at university primarily to test the parameters of their liver functions.
We’re a little more studious here. Of course, there’s a few people who aren’t even students.’

‘Was the person who lived in the flat opposite one of them?’

Claire didn’t respond for a few seconds. ‘I didn’t really know him.’

‘But you saw him?’

Another few seconds went by in an uncomfortable silence. ‘I may have done. I didn’t know at the time who he was.’

‘Who do you think he is?’

It was Claire’s turn to tilt her head at Murphy. ‘I think we both know that’s a ridiculous question, Mr Murphy.’

It had been a while since anyone had called him ‘Mr’, thought Murphy, trying not to show his annoyance at the fact she couldn’t even manage to call him detective. ‘How
about, just for my sake, you tell me. Just to make sure.’

‘Sam Byrne,’ Claire said, looking away from Murphy and towards the switched-off television. ‘The man standing for MP in the by-election coming up. They say he might
win.’

‘I don’t know about that, but we are talking about the same person at least. When was the last time you saw him?’

‘I’m not sure. I hear him out in the hall now and then. A week or so, maybe. I suppose he’s been busy recently. I don’t think he lived here, to be honest. We would only
see him every now and again. His post would pile up downstairs in the pigeonhole.’

‘Did you ever speak with him?’ Murphy said, crossing one long leg over the other. ‘Ever borrow a cup of sugar or something?’

‘No, not really,’ Claire replied, ignoring the attempt to lighten the mood. ‘Just a quiet nod if we passed each other out in the hallway. It’s a bit difficult to ignore
someone who lives only a few feet away.’

‘So, you’ve never heard anything out of the ordinary there? TV too loud or anything like that?’

Claire thought for a moment, began to speak, then stopped herself.

‘What is it, Claire?’ Murphy said, uncrossing his legs and leaning forwards.

‘Well . . . it’s probably nothing, that’s all. I don’t want to create a problem, or exacerbate an existing situation.’

Exacerbate, Murphy thought. That was a new one. ‘We’re trying to help Sam, that’s all,’ he said, keeping his calm. ‘Any information will be treated with the utmost
respect.’

Claire breathed in and pulled on a few strands of her hair. ‘I’ve heard a few things coming from the flat, but I just thought it was a television on too loud, that’s all.
Sometimes . . . well, they sounded too real.’

‘What did you hear?’

‘Screams.’

Murphy nodded, but didn’t say anything. He waited for Claire to keep talking.

‘I thought it was just a horror movie, that’s all. There was something else, though. Happened a while ago, so probably has nothing to do with anything.’

‘Go on, Claire,’ Murphy said, trying to keep the eagerness out of his tone. ‘You never know what might be helpful.’

‘Well, this is a few months back now. I came home late from working at the library in uni. The hallway was quiet and I was about to let myself into the flat when his door opened. A girl
came out crying, really quietly but it was loud enough for me to hear her. He came out and shepherded her back inside and just gave me a look, as if he was apologising. I just put it down to an
argument or something.’

‘You don’t seem certain about that.’

Claire shook her head and seemed less sure about what she was saying. ‘I don’t know. There was something about the whole situation I didn’t like.’

‘What was it?’

‘It was like . . . It was as if she didn’t want to be there and he was making sure she wouldn’t leave. He didn’t drag her back in or anything like that. It
was just a feeling. I wanted to say something, but didn’t think it was my place, especially if I was wrong.’

Murphy finished writing and considered Claire’s words again. Looked up at the young woman and tried to make sense of what she’d told him.

A few minutes after Claire had told him about hearing screams and a crying girl in the hallway, Murphy was saying goodbye and leaving his card. There was patently nothing else
she was willing to say, which made things a little more difficult. Just another piece in what was becoming an ever more complicated jigsaw.

Murphy made his way to the other neighbouring flat, knocked a few times, then slid a contact notice under the door when there was no answer. The flat was on the same side as Claire’s had
been, so he wasn’t expecting much more from the occupant. It was another item which needed ticking off the list, however.

‘How are you getting on?’ Murphy said, joining DC Kirkham on the floor below as the younger man exited the last flat. ‘Anything useful?’

‘Not really,’ DC Kirkham said, flipping open his notepad. ‘Bloke in number five works nights and was just pissed off I woke him up. Wasn’t much help at all really. Couple
in number four were on their way out the door to a lecture. Both studying history, both originally from Manchester, both had no contact with the person who lives in that flat upstairs. No answer
from number six.’

‘Did you get all their names?’

‘Of course,’ Kirkham replied, eager rather than annoyed. ‘Although number five refused to give me a surname. Didn’t matter, as I spotted it on an envelope on the way out.
He didn’t know anything really, but does remember seeing Byrne last week sometime. Couldn’t be sure of the date.’