Exodus: A Rhys Davies novel

By Steve Williams

Somewhere on the streets of London an apparently motiveless killer is on the loose, his victims all bearing the hallmarks of some strange ritualistic death.

Rhys Davies, a Detective Inspector in the Metropolitan Police Serious Crime Directorate, is sent with his team to try and find what links the victims together. On the face of it, there is nothing obvious, and never any clues to the motive. The only leads he and his team have are the fingerprints the killer leaves behind and the hideous death the victims all suffer. Davies and his team struggle to put the pieces together in a desperate attempt to track the killer down before he can kill again.

Meanwhile, in a coffee shop on the corner, another killer lurks. Having escaped prison due to a technicality at his last trial, he waits, watching, planning, targeting his next victim...

• Language: English
• Publisher: Steve Williams
• Release date: May 12, 2012
• ISBN: 9781476052854

Steve Williams

I am Steve Williams, 48 years old, living with my fiance in Kent in the UK. Exodus is the first in a series of novels all featuring Detective Inspector Rhys Davies and his Metropolitan Police Murder Squad team. I have already written a considerable portion of the second novel and have plans for at least four others after that. I am writing two non-fiction books too at present - one on motivation and the other on the process of writing. I am hoping that both will be published this year. I have several other books in the pipeline, two historical novels, a short story anthology and I am currently working on the story for a six part television series. When I am not doing all of that I am also an actor, public speaker and qualified teacher. If I had to choose - writing and acting would be my favourite past-times! I hope you like Exodus and would love to hear all your views on the book. Please don't hesitate to get in touch. Look forward to hearing from you. Steve

Book preview

Exodus Steve Williams

Exodus

A Rhys Davies Novel

By

Steve Williams

Copyright© 2012 by Steve Williams.

First published in Great Britain in 2012 by Steve Williams.

The right of Steve Williams to be identified as the Author of the Work has been asserted by him in accordance with Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the author, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

All characters in this publication are fictitious and entirely the authors own creation. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead is purely coincidental.

Prologue

The room was in virtually complete darkness, the only illumination being the two large candles placed at either end of the narrow, black table, which had been made into a makeshift altar. The smell of sulphur from the recently extinguished match hung heavy in the air. In the centre of the table stood a large, ebony crucifix, on which hung an ivory figure of Jesus. Running down the statue from the head and dripping off the feet onto the table, looking as black as the table in the flickering candlelight, was blood. Behind the altar, pinned to the wall, was a large piece of paper on which was written:

Exodus Chapter 21, verse 23

And if any mischief follow, then thou shalt give life for life. Eye for eye, tooth for tooth, hand for hand, foot for foot, burning for burning, wound for wound, stripe for stripe.

Around the edge of the inscription were pinned small photographs. At the top, in the centre of the sheet of paper, was a photograph of a young blonde girl, and down the sides, blurred images of various ostensibly ordinary people as they went about their daily lives.

The rest of the room was totally black. The walls had been painted black, as had the bare wooden floor. Heavy, black velvet curtains hung ominously in front of the single window. They were unnecessary, as the window had been boarded-up from the inside a couple of years before and no light was able to enter the room in any case, but they added to the general effect. Forbidding and foreboding. The black heart of the house created by the black heart of a man. A cold heart. A heart full of hate and a desire for vengeance.

Vengeance is mine, says the Lord, and the black heart belonged to a man who was determined to be the bringer of such vengeance.

The self-styled instrument of vengeance was kneeling in front of the altar, head bowed, lost in his own thoughts. Dark thoughts. Black thoughts. He was naked and he, too, was covered in blood. He was muttering to himself quietly, you will pay. I will make you pay. I will make you suffer as I have suffered.

Slowly, he reached across the altar to the first of the pictures at the side of the inscription. It was an out-of-focus photograph of Claire Turner-Sixsmith leaving her office. A once-beautiful woman now lying dead on the bed in her own apartment. Vengeance had been sweet and swift. The man touched Claire’s photograph and slowly drew a cross from corner to corner. A cross in blood. Claire’s blood.

Chapter 1

She looked so beautiful. As he looked down on her laying there he could hardly believe how beautiful she actually looked. His daughter. His world. It had been her eighth birthday just two days ago and he smiled as he remembered how excited she had been as she had torn the wrapping paper from the huge box in the centre of the living room. How she had run across the room, tears streaming down her face as the box opened to reveal her brand new bicycle. How she had thrown herself at both of them sitting on the sofa, her arms flung wide.

Mummy, Daddy, thank you so much. You are the best. I love you. I love you. I love you.

Then she had gone. Back to the bike, ripping the box apart to reveal the object in all its glory. It was bright red, gleaming in the sunlight streaming through the living room window. It was a hybrid bike, designed to go both on and off road with big, thick, knobbly tyres. Most importantly, though, was the fact that it had gears. Real gears. That was what she had really wanted, ever since she had learned to ride. A bike with real gears.

It had been an expensive bike, too. But she was worth it. On top of which it had been all part of his and his wife’s celebration of his promotion, which he had learned of only two weeks previously. Not just an ordinary promotion, either. After ten years of solid, hard work for the company he had been made into a junior partner with the promise of a full partnership in another two years. He had made it. Finally. Life was good.

He had opened the patio doors and they had both watched, amused, as she had dragged the bike through to the back garden leaving a trail of shredded wrapping paper and bits of box in her wake.

Come and watch me in the garden, she had insisted, her voice trailing away as she disappeared through the doorway. I want you to see me ride it.

He had put his arm around Tina and pulled her close, kissing her softly on the forehead.

I think she likes it, he had said. Thank you, my darling.

For what? she said, looking up at him, quizzically.

For believing in me. For being there for me. For her. For loving me.

She looked up at him and smiled. She reached up and touched his cheek, softly, tenderly and slowly pulled his head towards her. She kissed him, gently at first, then with more passion, opening her mouth and touching his tongue with hers, their tongues performing an erotic dance in each other’s mouths.

Yuck. That’s disgusting! had come a voice from the doorway. I have been waiting for you for ages. Come and watch me on my bike.

They had all laughed then, and just to remind them not to start again, she had run across the room, grabbed his hand and dragged him into the garden to watch her.

Now, here he was looking down at her. Her eyes closed, her long blonde hair spread out, framing her soft, beautiful face. The sheet was pulled up and folded just under her chin, as she always had it.

He was suddenly aware of someone shuffling behind him and there was a small cough. A man’s cough.

I’m sorry, sir, said the man’s voice, Is it her?

He nodded slowly. Unable to speak. Nor to take his eyes off her.

I am so sorry, sir, said the man from behind him. He was aware that the man had now moved around the trolley on which his daughter lay and was starting to lift the sheet to cover her face. Instinctively he reached out and grabbed the man’s wrist, stopping him in his tracks.

I’ll do it, he said hoarsely.

Of course. Would you like me to leave you alone for a few minutes? The man had a kindly face with soft, sympathetic eyes.

He had nodded and the man left the room almost silently, the only noise being the soft click of the door catch as he closed the door.

Now the tears came. His eyes filled with water, stinging, salty water, before it overflowed and cascaded down his cheeks, dripping onto the white sheet that covered his daughter. His dead daughter. He could hear the slightly metallic ting as his tears hit the cold metal of the trolley on which she now lay, occasionally muffled by the crisp white sheet.

This was the moment he had dreaded. Feared more than anything else since that frantic phone call from Tina yesterday morning. Through broken sobs she had tried to explain. She had only lost sight of her for a minute as she had stopped to chat to a friend. When she had turned the corner where the coffee shop stood she had expected to see their daughter on the next corner where she always waited, but she wasn’t there. Tina had told him she had hunted high and low for her in the nearby streets, had run frantically to the school, but to no avail. Their daughter could not be found. Anywhere. By now she had been in such a state that the school secretary had been the one to phone him initially, to tell him she was there, before passing the phone across to her.

I’m so sorry, she had kept saying, it’s my fault.

He had struggled for nearly five minutes to calm her down before he had got the full story from her. Knowing full well that she was in no fit state to organise anything, he had asked her to give the phone back to the secretary who had, in turn, put his call through to the head teacher. He had explained to the Head exactly what had happened, as far as he knew it, and within minutes the Head had agreed to despatch all the available spare teachers into the surrounding streets to search for her. The Head herself would contact the police to ask for their assistance whilst he made his way to the school from work.

His boss had been fantastic, instructing one of the company drivers to stop everything else he was due to do and give him a lift to the school.

You can’t go home on the train, she had said. I’ll get Eddie to drive you. Don’t worry about anything here. Does your secretary have all the details of your appointments today?

She does.

Then we shall spread them around the rest of the team. I’ll do some myself, too. You just go home and find your little girl and, when you do, give her a big hug from me. She had patted his hand gently, her heart going out to this poor man. Good luck.

He had arrived at the school to find his wife being comforted by two police officers and the Head teacher. Tina had thrown herself into his open arms, her tears dampening his suit jacket. He had held her tight, trying hard to keep his own emotions in check. The Head had explained that, so far, there had been no sighting of his daughter, but there were still seven teachers out on the streets looking for her, all of whom were in contact with each other and the school on the school radios. One of the police officers had spoken to him, too. There were apparently three police vehicles in the area already looking for her and both the neighbouring boroughs had been informed of her disappearance. Disappearance. The word made his blood run cold. His daughter, his beautiful Beth, disappeared. Gently, he had released himself from Tina’s vice-like grip and had sat next to her in the large leather sofa in the Head teacher’s office. The two police officers sat opposite them and filled in a long form, asking seemingly endless questions about his daughter. Why were they not out searching for her instead of asking stupid questions?

We need as much information as we can get, sir.

He hadn’t realised he had actually asked the question out loud.

The more information we get from you at this stage, the policeman continued, the more focused we can be in our searches.

Of course, he had said, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to ask the question out loud. Please continue. I just want my Beth back.

I know you do, sir. We will find her. I know this is hard for you both, but we are doing everything we can to find her, believe me.

There had been more questions and then the police officer had shown him a photograph. He tried so hard, but he couldn’t stop the single tear rolling down his cheek when he saw her beautiful, happy, carefree, smiling face looking back at him from the photograph. It was the school photo taken only about four weeks ago that the school had kept in its file.

Are you happy for us to use the photograph to hand copies around to all our officers, sir? It will help us to identify her if… when we find her.

Of course you can use it. Just find her. Please.

The police had taken them both home then, though neither of them really wanted to be there. The police officer explained that it would be better if they stayed at home so that they could both be contacted when they had more news. Reluctantly, they had agreed to stay at home, but had insisted on showing the officers the route that they took each morning to school and Tina had identified the street corner on which Beth would normally have waited.

Once indoors, one of the officers had made them both a cup of tea whilst the other officer had made a long phone call to his control room. Then the officers had left, leaving them alone. Both lost in their own thoughts. Tina sobbed almost endlessly, blaming herself. If only she had been watching her all the time, he kept thinking, none of this would have happened. No. He mustn’t think like that. They needed to be strong. Together.

After nearly two hours, during which he had phoned around all of her friends, he still had no idea of her whereabouts. He had made all the parents he had been able to contact promise him that they would call as soon as they learned anything and any that were staying local assured him that they would keep an eye out for her. After the last call he had flopped down into the armchair opposite his wife. He had not wanted to sit next to her. He was now struggling with his own emotions and didn’t feel he had the strength to try and comfort her, too.

The sudden, unexpected chime of the doorbell made them both jump. He had rushed from his seat followed closely by Tina and they had nearly sprinted to the front door. They both wanted the same thing: for her to be there, outside, cold and damp, but okay. They hoped beyond hope. They were desperate for it to be her. He turned the handle and flung the door wide, causing the door to smack against the plaster of the hall wall, leaving a small dent.

It wasn’t her. Instead the open door revealed a young man with a startled look on his face. He was smartly dressed in a pale grey suit with highly polished shoes, the toecaps gleaming with a mirror like finish.

Good morning, he said, smiling softly.

Look, whatever it is you are selling just go away, we are not interested…

I’m sorry, sir, said the young man, I know I’m not the person you had hoped to see, but I am here to help you. He reached inside his jacket and pulled out what appeared to be a small black wallet. He opened it to reveal a silver insignia and a photographic card. I’m Detective Constable William Masterson, Mr Jennings. I have been asked to come and talk to you and act as a liaison between yourselves and the team trying to find your daughter.

I am sorry. We didn’t know you were coming. Please come in.

That’s quite all right, sir. Apparently, the control room tried to call you to let you know I was on my way, but the phone was, understandably, engaged. I wouldn’t normally be here this early on in a missing person’s enquiry, but I thought it was important to come as soon as possible.

Thank you. Would you like a cup of tea, Detective?

That would be lovely. Please call me Bill.

The tea was made in virtual silence. All three of them stood awkwardly, nervously, in the kitchen, the only conversation being to ask Masterson whether he took milk and sugar. He didn’t. Black tea was his preferred option. The girl’s parents turned their noses up in unison at the thought of drinking tea with no milk.

They all filed into the living room and sat in the places they had just left, with Masterson sitting on the sofa next to the missing girl’s mother.

I know this is really hard for you and I am here to help you in any way I can, said Masterson. Please feel free to ask me anything you like at any stage and I will do my best to answer your questions. Okay?

The parents both nodded.

Now, he continued, I know you went through this long form when you were at the school earlier with the two uniformed officers, and I would just like to run over it again with you and just see if there is anything more we can add to help with our search for your daughter. I should imagine the phone was engaged because you were ringing around all her friends’ parents?

He nodded.

No one had seen or heard from her, I take it?

Jennings shook his head sadly.

The next hour was spent with Masterson going through the missing persons form in fine detail. The uniformed officers had done a very good job in the initial stages and Masterson made a mental note to talk to their Inspector after this was all over and tell him how impressed he had been with their efforts. At the end of the review, the only additional information that Masterson had managed to obtain was the phone numbers of the other parents who knew Beth.

Masterson then excused himself and stepped outside the front door where he phoned the control room to apprise them of the fact that there was no new information to impart. He also spoke to his own Detective Inspector and asked him to put as many officers on to the search as he could muster.

This is a serious one, Guv, he had said. The girl comes from a very happy home, the parents are lovely people, and the house is clean and tidy. It was her birthday just a couple of days ago and she was absolutely showered with gifts, including a brand new, expensive bike. I haven’t spoken to the school directly, but I have had a brief chat with the officers who went there and there is no suggestion that she has any problems as far as the school is concerned, she is always bright and cheerful and, apparently, a delight to teach. The father has phoned a number of other parents already and no one has seen hide nor hair of her. I have to say, boss, I have a nasty feeling about this one.

So do I, Bill, given what you have just told me. Right, I have a copy of the Misper form in front of me and the original school photograph. The Intel Unit has already scanned the picture and I shall get them to produce a quantity of handbills that we shall give out to all the uniformed cars. I shall take all available CID officers off non-urgent enquiries and I shall talk to the superintendent and try and get whatever assistance I can from the surrounding boroughs. I trust your judgement on this one Bill. If you think it’s real, so do I. I will call you back on the mobile and let you know what is happening. In the meantime, keep the parents at home as best you can. If they insist on going out to search, we will put one of them in one of the CID cars, but I don’t really want to do that.

Thanks, Guv. I don’t really think either of them is in a fit state to go anywhere at the moment, they are in pieces right now. It shouldn’t be too difficult to keep them here. I’ll speak to you shortly.

He hung up and walked slowly back inside. This was going to be a very long day. As he walked into the living room the girl’s parents both turned to look at him expectantly, hopefully, desperately. What could he say to them? What could possibly comfort them in such a heartbreaking moment as this?

We have got everyone we can muster out looking for her. We will find her. I hope, he thought silently.

They sat in complete silence for almost the whole of the next hour. The quiet only broken when Masterson went to the kitchen to make them all another cup of tea. Those were the worst moments for him as a liaison officer, the not knowing. He always tried to allow the missing person’s family to lead the conversation. No one was really interested in talking about the weather or the weekend sporting results or any inane platitudes he might offer, so it was always better to let them talk about what they wanted. Normally, the missing person. Offering to make the tea or some such mundane task, always gave him the opportunity to take a break from such an oppressive atmosphere, albeit only for a brief period of time.

He was just putting his cup to his lips when the mobile phone rang. Excusing himself, he stepped out into the back garden. He didn’t want to be out at the front again, it wouldn’t be too long before people got to hear what was going on and he didn’t want to have to field all the inevitable, awkward questions when he was trying to make phone calls. He checked the display screen before answering – it was his Inspector.

Bill. Good news on the manpower front. I have an additional 20 CID officers on the way here from the surrounding boroughs, the Territorial Support Group is sending two van-loads down and I have three dog units on the way. I am also waiting for an answer from the dog training school. I know the dogs are not ready for full duties yet, but they could use this to practise their search skills and it gives us a few extra officers out on the streets. The Superintendent has also authorised me to offer overtime to anyone from early turn uniform teams who can stay on to help.

That’s great. Have you had much of a response from them?

I went to the Duty Officer to tell him and they had beaten me to it. Every early turn officer had already volunteered! I estimate that, by the time everyone is available, I will have around sixty officers on the ground looking for her. I have also got an undertaking from the Missing Persons Bureau that they will have two officers dedicated only to this enquiry for the next 48 hours.

Thanks boss. Are you happy for me to be here for the foreseeable future?

Of course. Let me know if there is anything you need. I’ll speak to you as soon as I have briefed everyone. As there is no specific area we should look in at this stage I am just going to flood the area paying particular attention to the parks and open spaces. I just hope and pray she was fed up and decided she just didn’t want to go to school today, and we’ll find her playing happily somewhere. Unlikely, I know, given the circumstances of her disappearance, but we can live in hope.

Over the next few hours the mood in the house changed, becoming more anxious. Masterson noticed that, as time went on, the realisation slowly dawned on the parents that the outcome was unlikely to be a happy one. The school closed for the day and by four o’clock the head teacher had been on the phone to check whether Beth had been found. Masterson had spoken to her himself, and the sadness in her voice echoed his own thoughts. The early turn officers had done as much as they could and by nine that evening they were exhausted. They had been helped for the afternoon by the police helicopter, which had flown constantly overhead, only going away to refuel. The helicopter had passed backwards and forwards over all the open spaces using its thermal imaging camera. At one point it had picked up a heat source deep within a tangle of bushes on some nearby common land but, when the uniformed officers arrived on the scene and picked their way carefully through the undergrowth, all they found was an elderly vagrant, startled at first by being woken so abruptly by a gang of uniformed police officers and then angry that his secret hiding place had been discovered. The officers had left him muttering under his breath as he settled himself back down to sleep. Late that evening the Superintendent had reluctantly given the order for his early turn officers to stand down. None of them had been happy with the idea, but they were all expected back at work at six the following morning and he was supremely aware that they would all need their sleep. He congratulated all the officers on their sterling efforts so far and he promised them that, had the girl not been found by the following morning, he would task as many officers as he could spare with a renewed search.

At midnight, after consulting with his own senior officers and those from the neighbouring boroughs, the superintendent had suspended the search. Overnight the other borough officers and his own would continue the search when time and resources allowed.

Back at the house there had been a succession of visitors. In the main they had been police officers either seeking new information or updating Masterson or the family on the current state of the investigation. Much to Masterson’s relief Jennings’ sister had called the house phone at six that evening. They had all rushed to the phone hoping beyond hope that it would be Beth or at least someone who knew where she was. When it turned out not to be her, neither parent had been able to speak to the person on the other end of the phone and they had passed the receiver to him.

Hello? Who is this? said a clipped, cultured voice on the other end of the phone.

Good evening. I am Detective Constable Masterson and I’m afraid I have some bad news about your niece.

Twenty minutes after they had hung up, she had arrived on the doorstep.

Masterson was grateful for the new, unexpected, arrival. His experience told him that the length of time the girl had been missing meant that her chances of survival were greatly reduced. If she had just wandered off for a bit of fun then there was a chance for her. Given the circumstances of her disappearance, though, that seemed more than unlikely. Sadly, the likelihood was that she had been taken by force, in which case, the longer it went on the less chance she had of survival. There had been a few instances where a child had been abducted and kept, secluded from the world, for some time, but these instances were few and far between and, without exception had been abroad. He had read about one poor girl recently somewhere in Europe who had been locked away in a makeshift dungeon for nearly nine years! These were very rare occurrences, though. In Masterson’s own experience of such things, once the kidnapper was so tired he had to go to sleep the kidnap victim became a liability. The kidnapper had to be absolutely certain that the victim could not make any noise and attract people’s attention or, worse still, escape and alert the authorities to the kidnapper’s whereabouts whilst he slept. It was easier, then, to kill the victim before sleep. Safer. If he hadn’t already killed her whilst executing his depraved plan.

So the arrival of this woman made Masterson’s job immeasurably easier. On the face of it, she was very calm and collected and would be the ideal conduit through which Masterson could pass information, particularly any bad news, to the parents.

Hello, she said as Masterson let her through the front door. I’m Penny. We spoke on the phone a little while ago. What exactly do we know so far?

She was a tall, elegant woman. Masterson guessed her age as mid-thirties (she was in fact 39). She held herself upright and in control, though her anxiety and concern were more than evident in her soft, blue eyes. Her face was framed by long dark hair, pulled back into a loose ponytail that hung down past her shoulder blades. Her height was accentuated by the high heels on her knee-length black leather boots into which were tucked her skin-tight pale blue jeans. Masterson had to physically stop himself from staring at her perfect backside. Not the time or the place. Tucked into her jeans was a loose-fitting white gypsy-style blouse with enough buttons undone to hint at what lay beneath, but not enough to actually show you. She had no jacket on, she hadn’t needed it in the expensive-looking car that she had left parked on the drive, and was carrying a large black leather handbag.

Masterson explained to her what had happened so far, he told her about the disappearance of the girl, the enquiries at the school and with her friends and the extent of the police search so far.

Okay. Thank you, she said softly. You are doing a very good job and I know this can’t be easy for you here either. I need to know what you think is the likely outcome of this whole episode so I can prepare myself and be strong for them. She nodded her head slightly towards the living room door.

I am hopeful we will find her safe and well in the morning and we can get her back to her Mum and Dad.

That’s the official line, I know, but your eyes give you away, she said. I’m sorry, it was an unfair question. Thank you, Officer…

William. Please call me Bill. I am here as your friend as well as being a police officer.

She smiled. Thank you, Bill. I had better go in and see them now.

She walked purposefully into the living room and Masterson, staying in the hallway, pulled the door closed behind her, not wanting to intrude on their private moment. The sounds of crying from beyond the door proved that she was having as much difficulty maintaining her composure as the parents were. Masterson slipped off to the kitchen and put the kettle on. They were all going to need another tea – this would be a very long night.

The morning dawned slowly. A grey, drab sunrise gave way to a grey, drab drizzly morning. Masterson hadn’t seen the sunrise, he had nodded off in his seat about an hour beforehand. He had managed to persuade the Jenningses to head off to bed at about two in the morning. They had resisted for a while, but they both knew they were exhausted so had eventually agreed, making Masterson promise that he would wake them the instant he had any news. He had been left downstairs with Penny and they had chatted for a while to pass the time, until Penny had lain down on the sofa and fallen almost instantly asleep. Masterson, alone now, had got up and made himself another tea before returning to the living room. He had turned off the main lights so as not to disturb the sleeping woman and had just left the small standard lamp alight next to his chair. He had spent the next hour topping and tailing his Family Liaison log and taking the opportunity to get everything up to date. Having completed everything he had to do, he felt a wave of tiredness wash over him. He desperately fought the urge to sleep, he wanted to be awake and alert when any calls came through. He wouldn’t get up and take a walk around the house to keep himself awake, he always felt like an intruder invading other people’s privacy whenever he did that, much to the amusement of his colleagues, who had no such qualms themselves. Slowly, inevitably, sleep had overtaken him. His head had started to nod and his eyes felt so heavy. He fought the urge but knew, in spite of himself, that it was a losing battle and eventually sleep enveloped him and his head lolled gently forward until his chin rested on his chest.

Now he was aware of being gently woken from his deep slumber. He could feel a soft hand resting lightly on his shoulder, shaking him carefully.

Bill. Wake up. I’ve brought you a cup of tea. It was a soft female voice, which puzzled him. He lived alone, why was there a woman in his flat? Suddenly he remembered where he was and he finally woke with a start. His eyes flew open and his head snapped back, his hand instinctively going to his mouth to check he hadn’t been dribbling down his suit front.

I’m sorry, he mumbled. I didn’t mean to go to sleep. Sorry.

Don’t be silly, said Penny, you are entitled to sleep just like the rest of us. I thought you would rather be woken before they come downstairs though, and I heard some movement up there just now.

Thank you, and thanks for the tea. What time is it?

Just after seven and you are very welcome.

Masterson and Penny sat in silence, drinking their tea, Masterson occasionally and surreptitiously picking the sleep from his eyes whenever Penny wasn’t looking in his direction. His mouth tasted foul, even after the tea, but he didn’t want to go up to the bathroom to clean his teeth whilst the parents were still up there. He slipped a tin of Altoids, ‘the curiously strong mints’, out of his pocket and popped one in his mouth. That would have to do for now. He offered one to Penny, who accepted the proffered mint gratefully. She, too, felt her mouth tasted horrid, but didn’t want to intrude on the couple upstairs.

When they had finished their tea, Masterson decided to call in and get an update on the current state of the investigation into the girl’s disappearance. He unplugged the phone from the charger, he didn’t remember plugging it in, he must have done that last night before he had dropped off to sleep. He dialled the Inspector’s number.

Morning, Bill, said his boss, I was going to call you shortly.

Morning, Guv. I hope I haven’t disturbed you at home?

No, no. I stayed here in my office last night. Got a few hours kip in the early hours. How about you, have you had a chance to sleep or would you like me to arrange for someone to relieve you?

I’m fine here, Boss. I’d rather stay with the family than go through the process of introducing someone new. If that’s okay with you?

That’s more than fine with me, Bill. Thank you. Promise me, though, you will let me know when you need to be relieved. You are no use to anyone if you get too tired.

I will. If you’re lining someone else up and want to ring them, I think Zac would be the ideal person. I did manage to catch forty winks in the early hours, so I’m feeling okay at the moment.

Okay. I’ll talk to Zac when we get off the phone. I suppose you want an update on where we are so far, do you?

Thanks, said Bill. I know the parents will be asking me when they come downstairs shortly.