Nine Elms (Kate Marshall #1)(58)



“You were both on night shifts the day Kaisha went missing?”

“You think I did this to my fucking daughter?”

“Wayne, she has to ask these questions,” said Tammy, who could see he was becoming agitated. She turned to Kate and Tristan. “We was both on a night shift from six p.m. to six a.m. But we have to leave the house to get the bus at four p.m. to make two connections.”

“What time did you get back on Friday morning?”

“Just after eight,” said Tammy.

“Hang on, hang on,” said Wayne, pulling himself up to sit on the edge of the armchair. “Who the fuck are these two? Are you police?”

“They’re private investigators, Wayne, I said!” cried Tammy.

“What did you do when Kaisha didn’t come home?” asked Kate to Ruby, seeing their time could be coming to an end.

“I waited for her, then I rung her mobile, then I rung Mam. I went to Mrs. Todd’s next door,” said Ruby.

“I was proper furious with Kaisha,” started Tammy. “I thought she’d gone off somewhere . . . I cursed her good and proper to Wayne . . .” She shook and then broke down. Ruby reached out to cuddle her, but Tammy brushed her away, dropping her cigarette onto the grubby carpet. Ruby dutifully picked it up and stubbed it out.

“Can I ask if you’ve seen this man?” asked Kate. She held up Keir Castle’s Facebook photo. Tammy and Wayne peered at it. Tammy looked hopeful for a second but then shook her head. Wayne grabbed the printout and put it close to his face.

“Is this one of the bastards who hang around the hockey pitch?” he said.

“We just need to know if you recognize him. You see he’s quite distinctive with the red hair and the strong, pronounced features . . . How about you, Ruby?” asked Kate.

She shook her head.

“This is one of the dads, isn’t it? One of them stuck-up fuckers . . .”

“Wayne!” cried Tammy.

“Fuck you too! Do you know him?” he said, holding up the photo. “You didn’t look at it properly. Look at him.” He pushed the photo up and into her face, creasing the paper against her chin.

“I did look!” she said, slapping his hand away. He screwed up the photo and threw it in her face, then staggered about, having to grab the corner of the coffee table.

Kate looked at Tristan, who was about to get up and intervene. She shook her head. There was no placating a drunk, she thought from bitter experience. Things could escalate fast. She was relieved when the news headlines appeared on the TV and Wayne was distracted. They saw the familiar view of the crime scene from a couple of days ago. Tammy went to pick up the remote on the table, but Wayne beat her to it.

“I run the remote,” he said, jabbing a finger in her face. He tottered on his feet and turned up the volume.

It was a repeat of the drone footage above the crime scene, and a picture flashed up of Kaisha in her hockey gear, smiling and posing with a gold trophy.

“Police have discovered the body of another young woman they believe is linked to the murder of sixteen-year-old Kaisha Smith,” said the announcer. The picture then cut to the base of Higher Tor and showed police officers crouching down in a long row and conducting a fingertip search in the daylight.

“The victim has just been formally identified as sixteen-year-old Layla Gerrard, a pupil at Carmichael Grammar School who was reported missing last Thursday.”

More drone footage showed a school playing field and, next to it, a path alongside train tracks.

Wayne sank down onto his haunches. Tristan went to him.

“Mate, can I get you anything?” he said, helping Wayne up and back onto the armchair.

The man broke down in tears, heaving a sob. Ruby left the room and returned a moment later with a glass of water, which Wayne drank, dribbling it down his chin.

Kate noticed that Tammy was rummaging around in a cupboard under the TV.

“Where did they get that picture of Kaisha in her hockey gear? I didn’t give it to anyone. Did that policewoman take it?” said Tammy.

“Was it on Facebook?” asked Kate. “They could have lifted it off.”

Tammy was now absorbed in a photo album, flicking through photos of when she was pregnant, full of hopeful smiles.

It pierced Kate’s heart.

“Get out, just please, get out,” said Wayne, his face in his hands. Ruby went and picked up the balled-up printout of Keir Castle’s photo from the floor.

“I’ll get them to look at this again, when they’ve calmed down,” she said. Kate nodded, and she and Tristan left the room with Ruby.

“Are you going to be okay?” asked Kate when they got to the front door. Ruby nodded.

“I’ve been going to Mrs. Todd’s in the evenings and sleeping there. She’s nice. She used to be our crossing guard. Mum and Dad don’t really notice. They just drink and fight.”

Kate took out another card.

“If you have any problems, or if you’re scared, this is my number. I can help,” she said, giving it to her. Tristan gave her his card too.

Ruby nodded.

When they came back to the car, Tristan and Kate sat in silence for a moment.

“Jesus, that was awful,” said Kate.

“Yeah,” said Tristan.

“They identified the third girl quickly. I’ll see if Alan Hexham will give us any details from his postmortem,” she said, searching through her bag for her phone. Tristan took out his.

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