problem.’ She waved her notepad. ‘Marks will just assume it was you that made me late. I’ve been taking telephone statements since yesterday.’ They continued to head towards the end meeting room.
‘Have I missed anything?’
‘Still nothing.’ She screwed up her nose. ‘There are a lot of maybe I saw her calls, but not one of them stands out. Young and Charles are trawling through most of them, but it’ll take them an absolute age.’
‘I’ll stay on for a couple of hours and give you a hand, if it’s stacking up.’
‘OK,’ she gave a grateful nod, ‘as long as you mean it. I know what you’re like for getting distracted.’
‘Unless there’s an emergency,’ he protested.
‘Well, in that case I’ll believe it when you show up.’
They entered the briefing room and he assumed they were the last to arrive but, as he turned to close the door, he saw DI Marks striding along the corridor towards them.
‘Thanks,’ he grunted to Goodhew, who held the door as he marched in. Goodhew clicked the door shut and would have remained standing, but Marks nodded him towards the chairs. ‘Gary, sit. It’s time you got out of the habit of being last in and first out.’
His colleagues Kincaide, Gully, Clark, Young and Charles were all seated, but Kincaide sat closest to the front, with his chair angled slightly away from the other five. Goodhew dropped into the chair next to Aaron Clark, who tutted a quiet reprimand.
DI Marks folded back the cover sheet of the flip chart to reveal the first page, where ‘25/3/11 p.m. – 26/3/11 p. m.’ was inscribed in red ink. ‘As far as we’ve ascertained, then, Kaye Whiting disappeared sometime between 8 p.m. on Friday 25 March and the evening of Saturday 26th, when she failed to turn up at a family birthday gathering.’
Kincaide already fidgeted in his chair, and started speaking as soon as Marks paused. ‘That’s if her sister’s boyfriend Carl Watkins is telling us the truth. He’s the one who supposedly saw her at 8 p.m. on Friday, sir.’
‘Quite so, Kincaide. The previous sighting to that one, was by a work colleague, Doreen Kennedy, who dropped her off at her home at six-twenty. Any comments so far?’ He scribbled a blue question mark above the ‘8 p. m.’, circled it, and drew an arrow from the circle to one side – where he now wrote ‘6.20 p. m.’.
He looked around the group and rubbed the end of his nose a couple of times with his knuckle, before continuing.
‘She was reported missing by her mother, and we have no other sightings to go on. Her entire domestic situation appears to have been in order and—’
Kincaide raised his hand this time. ‘Sir?’
‘Yes, Kincaide?’
‘I’ve just interviewed her uncle, Andrew Burrows, who also missed the family get-together. Didn’t feel well he says, but seems rather an antisocial type, sir.’ Despite facing away from the others, his voice was louder and more demanding than Marks’.
Marks fidgeted with his nose once more. ‘Michael …’ he paused and made a conscious effort to keep the sarcasm from his voice. ‘I suspect every family has a relation who’s no party animal, so—’
Kincaide butted in again. ‘But this was for his own mother, sir.’
Marks rattled the flip chart as he tore off the top sheet. ‘I too didn’t go to one of my mother’s birthday bashes, but it wasn’t because I was busy abducting my niece!’
Marks scowled, aware he’d made a few people smirk. ‘But don’t drop that thought, Kincaide. Stranger things happen.’
‘Yes, sir.’ Kincaide nodded.
On the second sheet, Marks now wrote three headings: ‘Own Choice’, ‘Accident’ and ‘Crime’.
‘While we cannot discount the possibility that she’s met with an accident, we do know that she is not in any of the nearby hospitals or morgues, and we should therefore discount this avenue at the current time.’ He drew a line through the word ‘Accident’.
‘Clark is keeping tabs
‘Have I missed anything?’
‘Still nothing.’ She screwed up her nose. ‘There are a lot of maybe I saw her calls, but not one of them stands out. Young and Charles are trawling through most of them, but it’ll take them an absolute age.’
‘I’ll stay on for a couple of hours and give you a hand, if it’s stacking up.’
‘OK,’ she gave a grateful nod, ‘as long as you mean it. I know what you’re like for getting distracted.’
‘Unless there’s an emergency,’ he protested.
‘Well, in that case I’ll believe it when you show up.’
They entered the briefing room and he assumed they were the last to arrive but, as he turned to close the door, he saw DI Marks striding along the corridor towards them.
‘Thanks,’ he grunted to Goodhew, who held the door as he marched in. Goodhew clicked the door shut and would have remained standing, but Marks nodded him towards the chairs. ‘Gary, sit. It’s time you got out of the habit of being last in and first out.’
His colleagues Kincaide, Gully, Clark, Young and Charles were all seated, but Kincaide sat closest to the front, with his chair angled slightly away from the other five. Goodhew dropped into the chair next to Aaron Clark, who tutted a quiet reprimand.
DI Marks folded back the cover sheet of the flip chart to reveal the first page, where ‘25/3/11 p.m. – 26/3/11 p. m.’ was inscribed in red ink. ‘As far as we’ve ascertained, then, Kaye Whiting disappeared sometime between 8 p.m. on Friday 25 March and the evening of Saturday 26th, when she failed to turn up at a family birthday gathering.’
Kincaide already fidgeted in his chair, and started speaking as soon as Marks paused. ‘That’s if her sister’s boyfriend Carl Watkins is telling us the truth. He’s the one who supposedly saw her at 8 p.m. on Friday, sir.’
‘Quite so, Kincaide. The previous sighting to that one, was by a work colleague, Doreen Kennedy, who dropped her off at her home at six-twenty. Any comments so far?’ He scribbled a blue question mark above the ‘8 p. m.’, circled it, and drew an arrow from the circle to one side – where he now wrote ‘6.20 p. m.’.
He looked around the group and rubbed the end of his nose a couple of times with his knuckle, before continuing.
‘She was reported missing by her mother, and we have no other sightings to go on. Her entire domestic situation appears to have been in order and—’
Kincaide raised his hand this time. ‘Sir?’
‘Yes, Kincaide?’
‘I’ve just interviewed her uncle, Andrew Burrows, who also missed the family get-together. Didn’t feel well he says, but seems rather an antisocial type, sir.’ Despite facing away from the others, his voice was louder and more demanding than Marks’.
Marks fidgeted with his nose once more. ‘Michael …’ he paused and made a conscious effort to keep the sarcasm from his voice. ‘I suspect every family has a relation who’s no party animal, so—’
Kincaide butted in again. ‘But this was for his own mother, sir.’
Marks rattled the flip chart as he tore off the top sheet. ‘I too didn’t go to one of my mother’s birthday bashes, but it wasn’t because I was busy abducting my niece!’
Marks scowled, aware he’d made a few people smirk. ‘But don’t drop that thought, Kincaide. Stranger things happen.’
‘Yes, sir.’ Kincaide nodded.
On the second sheet, Marks now wrote three headings: ‘Own Choice’, ‘Accident’ and ‘Crime’.
‘While we cannot discount the possibility that she’s met with an accident, we do know that she is not in any of the nearby hospitals or morgues, and we should therefore discount this avenue at the current time.’ He drew a line through the word ‘Accident’.
‘Clark is keeping tabs
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