The Moor (DCI Ryan Mysteries, #11)(9)
And they knew her.
Phillips reached across to rub her feet. Since her attack, MacKenzie’s leg had never been the same and, by the end of a long day, her feet ached.
“All these years she couldn’t remember what happened, so they probably stopped worrying about it becoming a problem. Now she’s done a runner, that’ll put the wind up.”
They fell silent, considering the ramifications of that.
“She told me her da’ was a hard man,” Phillips continued, keeping his voice low. “If he’s involved, we could have a fight on our hands keeping the girl safe.”
“Let’s hope he isn’t,” MacKenzie whispered. “For her sake, let’s hope she doesn’t have to live with the horror of that, too.”
CHAPTER 6
Monday, 3rd June 2019
The new day dawned bright and cloudless, a bold blue canvas against which passing aeroplanes blazed frothy white trails as they made their way to foreign shores. Ryan and Phillips watched them from the boxy confines of the Northumbria Police Constabulary Headquarters, through the single, grubby window of their Chief Constable’s corner office.
“Let me see if I understand the situation correctly,” she said, in deceptively calm tones. “A girl—a child—you’ve never met turned up on your doorstep, Ryan, and you didn’t think to call Social Services immediately?”
He held his ground.
“No, ma’am. Samantha O’Neill reported a murder, which falls within my remit. I took a brief statement and corroborated certain basic facts to establish whether she was…” He paused, searching for a delicate way to put it.
“Telling the truth, or pullin’ a fast one,” Phillips put in, helpfully.
“Thanks,” Ryan muttered.
“Don’t mention it,” Phillips returned.
Sandra Morrison sucked in a long breath, then let it out slowly. She prided herself on being a fair woman, not given to displays of irrational behaviour or emotional outbursts. That same restraint had cost her a marriage and countless friendships over the years, but it had also enabled her to rise swiftly through the ranks of a police hierarchy that had—until more recent times—been largely geared in favour of her male counterparts. On the whole, she didn’t regret the choices she had made, and she was usually able to predict the actions of the staff she was responsible for leading.
Usually, being the operative word.
The two men standing before her represented two of the best murder detectives the Criminal Investigation Department had to offer; not merely in their own district but on a national level. Ryan and Phillips could not be more different, both in looks and in temperament, and there had been times when they had taken her by surprise. However, she wouldn’t have described either of them as a ‘soft touch’, and she said as much.
“I wouldn’t have pegged either of you as the type to take in waifs and strays,” she said, to nobody in particular.
Ryan merely cocked his head.
“The girl’s a witness to murder,” he said. “That changes things.”
“Possibly,” she corrected. “Only if the DNA results prove the unidentified female is her mother.”
“They’re due back today,” Ryan said. “I’ve asked Faulkner to put a rush on it.”
Morrison leaned an elbow on the edge of her desk and propped her head on her hand. She could have probed him about why he’d felt it necessary to authorise an express forensic service on a cold case but, since the deed was already done, there seemed little point in quibbling over it.
“Where’s the girl?” she asked.
“MacKenzie’s introducing Samantha to some fine dining, in the staff canteen,” Phillips joked. “She’s been no trouble, so far.”
Morrison thought she heard the beginnings of affection in his voice and was troubled. She glanced up at the clock on the wall.
“The rep from Social Services will be arriving any minute now,” she said crisply. “Let’s be clear about something, Frank. I allowed the girl to stay with you last night because it was so late in the day and both you and Denise are fully DBS-checked—but that was a one-off. Social Services will need to assess the situation and decide whether she should return to her family or go to a foster family in a secure location while an investigation is ongoing.”
Phillips was defensive.
“She’s a canny lass and all that, but I’ll be just as happy to see her go back home,” he said.
“Just as well,” Morrison returned.
“She seems adamant she won’t return to her father,” Ryan put in. “Even without the spectre of murder hanging over her head, Samantha obviously doesn’t want to go home. The prospect of her father being a prime suspect didn’t faze her at all, which is highly unusual. That should be enough to give us pause.”
“There doesn’t seem to be much love lost,” Phillips agreed. “Maybe she’d be better off somewhere else.”
Morrison made a sweeping gesture with her hand.
“It’s not our decision to make,” she said. “You’ve known the girl for two minutes, so you can’t possibly know what she feels or doesn’t feel about her family, or indeed whether your skills will be required at all. Don’t get carried away by sentiment.”