set aside his ignorance of modern mating rituals and circled a call from the councillor’s home two days before Caitlin’s termination and four days before her disappearance. Roland had denied contacting Caitlin after the break-up, so it seemed noteworthy.
Next he ploughed methodically through her outgoing calls, several of which had been placed to a number identified as the Rutherford Clinic, where she had undergone her termination. There was a sprinkling of other numbers, including a pizza delivery service, a nail bar and a hairdresser.
He tossed the phone records aside and picked up the report detailing the abrupt interruption of GPS tracking on Caitlin’s phone on the night of her disappearance. Again he put it aside, as it told him nothing he didn’t already know. On Friday 20 March, Caitlin had walked up Kedleston Road through heavy snow, past the university buildings, to her shared bungalow, where she picked up her rucksack. After that, her phone’s GPS had been disabled and subsequent movements were a mystery, though it was reasonable to assume that she had disappeared that same night.
He turned to the bank statements. Caitlin’s account had been in overdraft after paying her university fees and a security deposit on the bungalow in September of last year. Her student loan had put her back in the black, and for the next six months there had been a steady stream of cash withdrawals as well as regular payments for rent, utilities and her one credit card. The payment for her return train ticket to Liverpool had come out of her account six weeks before the Easter break. There had been no activity on her current account or credit card since her disappearance.
Brook pored over the limited entries on her credit card statement. Caitlin was remarkably prudent in her spending for one so young. Even with a full student grant, he himself could remember the pinch of tight finances at the end of every month, and his old Access credit card had often taken a hammering.
‘Her consumption is positively frugal – thirty pounds at the campus Waterstone’s and twenty pounds for takeaway pizza,’ he said, mulling aloud over the only purchases in the final month of her statement. Granted, the month had been cut short by her disappearance, and as Laurie Teague had attested, the pregnancy had persuaded Caitlin to eschew an active social life for a few weeks. He sat back to ponder. ‘Even so, there’s a dog not barking here.’
‘Who’s barking?’ Brook was startled out of his reverie. Noble spotted the file and raised an eyebrow. ‘Revisiting already?’
‘Well, I thought about what you said. About Caitlin and those missing girls.’
‘The Interpol girls?’ enquired Noble breezily.
‘Yes,’ replied Brook solemnly. ‘And although it’s a thankless task, I think you’re right – they deserve more than a passing glance.’ Noble said nothing. ‘And there is something odd about Caitlin vanishing so completely. No warning, no trace.’ Still Noble was mute and Brook began to falter. ‘The emotional trigger of the termination may have tipped over into depression.’ Noble raised an eyebrow and a mocking smile began to turn the corners of his mouth. ‘You know about the new initiative, don’t you?’
Noble’s grin erupted and he clapped his hands together. ‘Hot off the press. Pity we’re so snowed under that we can’t give it the attention it deserves.’
‘Isn’t it?’ replied Brook, a guilty smile deforming his face.
‘It gets better. Sergeant Hendrickson tells me DI Ford won first prize in the pointless inquiry raffle.’
‘A very able choice,’ responded Brook soberly.
‘Well he’s not taking it very well. He reckons you had something to do with it,’ said Noble. ‘Did you?’
‘I don’t have that kind of influence with Charlton, John.’
Noble eyed him with suspicion. ‘If you say so.’ He nodded at the papers in Brook’s hand. ‘Dog not barking?’
Brook threw Caitlin’s
Next he ploughed methodically through her outgoing calls, several of which had been placed to a number identified as the Rutherford Clinic, where she had undergone her termination. There was a sprinkling of other numbers, including a pizza delivery service, a nail bar and a hairdresser.
He tossed the phone records aside and picked up the report detailing the abrupt interruption of GPS tracking on Caitlin’s phone on the night of her disappearance. Again he put it aside, as it told him nothing he didn’t already know. On Friday 20 March, Caitlin had walked up Kedleston Road through heavy snow, past the university buildings, to her shared bungalow, where she picked up her rucksack. After that, her phone’s GPS had been disabled and subsequent movements were a mystery, though it was reasonable to assume that she had disappeared that same night.
He turned to the bank statements. Caitlin’s account had been in overdraft after paying her university fees and a security deposit on the bungalow in September of last year. Her student loan had put her back in the black, and for the next six months there had been a steady stream of cash withdrawals as well as regular payments for rent, utilities and her one credit card. The payment for her return train ticket to Liverpool had come out of her account six weeks before the Easter break. There had been no activity on her current account or credit card since her disappearance.
Brook pored over the limited entries on her credit card statement. Caitlin was remarkably prudent in her spending for one so young. Even with a full student grant, he himself could remember the pinch of tight finances at the end of every month, and his old Access credit card had often taken a hammering.
‘Her consumption is positively frugal – thirty pounds at the campus Waterstone’s and twenty pounds for takeaway pizza,’ he said, mulling aloud over the only purchases in the final month of her statement. Granted, the month had been cut short by her disappearance, and as Laurie Teague had attested, the pregnancy had persuaded Caitlin to eschew an active social life for a few weeks. He sat back to ponder. ‘Even so, there’s a dog not barking here.’
‘Who’s barking?’ Brook was startled out of his reverie. Noble spotted the file and raised an eyebrow. ‘Revisiting already?’
‘Well, I thought about what you said. About Caitlin and those missing girls.’
‘The Interpol girls?’ enquired Noble breezily.
‘Yes,’ replied Brook solemnly. ‘And although it’s a thankless task, I think you’re right – they deserve more than a passing glance.’ Noble said nothing. ‘And there is something odd about Caitlin vanishing so completely. No warning, no trace.’ Still Noble was mute and Brook began to falter. ‘The emotional trigger of the termination may have tipped over into depression.’ Noble raised an eyebrow and a mocking smile began to turn the corners of his mouth. ‘You know about the new initiative, don’t you?’
Noble’s grin erupted and he clapped his hands together. ‘Hot off the press. Pity we’re so snowed under that we can’t give it the attention it deserves.’
‘Isn’t it?’ replied Brook, a guilty smile deforming his face.
‘It gets better. Sergeant Hendrickson tells me DI Ford won first prize in the pointless inquiry raffle.’
‘A very able choice,’ responded Brook soberly.
‘Well he’s not taking it very well. He reckons you had something to do with it,’ said Noble. ‘Did you?’
‘I don’t have that kind of influence with Charlton, John.’
Noble eyed him with suspicion. ‘If you say so.’ He nodded at the papers in Brook’s hand. ‘Dog not barking?’
Brook threw Caitlin’s
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