Woman Last Seen(58)

But then DC Clements reminds herself that Kylie Gillingham’s life wasn’t perfect, was it?

It couldn’t be if she’s run away from it. Or worse, been taken from it.

Clements calls two of Kylie’s three half brothers (she can’t yet track the third, apparently he’s on holiday in Malaysia). They don’t have much to add. They haven’t seen Leigh since their father left her the bulk of his wealth. They offer assurances that they will contact the station if she gets in touch. They sound remote, disinterested. Again, Clements doubts that these family members would offer a sanctuary to Kylie if she needed one.

Clements rings a few of the numbers recently dialed on both phones she had owned. Leigh’s last tracked phone calls included a call to the school secretary to ask if she could rummage through the lost property box to try to locate Seb’s missing school coat. She’d also rung the dentist to book regular checkups for both the boys. They were scheduled for next week. Kai had called her hairdresser, to make an appointment for a trim, an appointment she’d failed to show up to. “Is that unusual?” Clements asks the woman who answered the phone.

“Yeah, I can’t remember her no-showing before. She’s really nice—tips well. Is she okay? I hope so.”

“Most likely. Did she seem okay when she spoke to you?”

“Yes. Totally.”

Everyone Clements talks to agrees that neither version of Kylie Gillingham was showing any obvious signs of stress, nothing out of the ordinary.

Finally, at just before 7:00 p.m. Clements calls the best friend, Fiona Phillipson; 7:00 p.m. is her cut-off on a Friday for making enquiries. She plans to stay for a few more hours at the station, get a takeaway delivered; there isn’t anything to rush home to because she isn’t midseason on any TV show at the moment, but she doesn’t like calling people too late on a Friday because other people have lives.

“You didn’t see any change in her behavior?” Clements asks. As the person who last saw Kylie, Fiona’s testimony is key.

“No, none, but then, we’ve established that she has quite the poker face,” Fiona comments sharply, not able to hide her anger. “Who knows what she was thinking.” Clements gets it, Fiona is hurt. She thought they were close. Besties. All Kylie’s friends and family are reeling, coming to terms with the fact they don’t know her, no one knows her. They are, naturally enough, enraged. Clements is just sad. In her experience, the unknown are the most vulnerable. And dangerous.

“Leigh is one of those really busy women—you know, never still for five minutes, two minutes, always dashing about somewhere to go, someone to see, something to do,” offers Fiona. “It made the rest of us feel left behind. Sort of rooted.”

“Being rooted can be a good thing,” comments Clements.

“True, yes, of course it can,” Fiona rallies. Her voice has a defensive edge to it. Clements recognizes it, empathizes with it. A single woman exhausted with justifying her choices. Her lot.

“I suppose it must have finally got to her. The deceit and everything. Years of it, from what you say. Maybe she just couldn’t handle it anymore,” murmurs Fiona.

“So, you think she’s run away?”

Fiona falls silent. Clements wishes she was conducting this interview face-to-face. She is good at reading people and knows that often a lot is said inside silences. “I don’t know. It’s one thing to think, isn’t it? Possibly the best thing.” Fiona’s voice cracks. Not just angry then, worried for her friend too? The police are unfortunately used to bearing the brunt of people’s worry in the form of aggression. It doesn’t surprise Clements when Fiona throws out the heated challenge, “Isn’t it your job to take the educated guesses?”

“It’s our job to find out everything we can.”

Fiona sighs. It isn’t clear if the sigh is one of frustration, anger, grief.

“Is there anything at all you can think of that may be relevant? Anything to help us understand her state of mind?”

“She was depressed.”

“Are you sure?”

“No, not certain. Maybe you should check with her doctor. I think she was on tablets at some point.” Fiona admits this reluctantly, aware she is betraying a confidence, not wanting to paint her friend in a bad light. Clements doesn’t judge, half the people she knows are on antidepressants, popped them like vitamins, but if Kylie was depressed and taking antidepressants, she would be classed as vulnerable and maybe the missing persons case could be escalated.

“That’s helpful, I will.”

“I remember her talking once about how she couldn’t see any joy anymore. That she was blind to it.”

Clements doesn’t know how to ask the question but doesn’t know how she can avoid asking it either. Time is running out. They might be locked down by Monday. Other cases might come along and take precedent. It is a sickening thought, but lockdown is bound to lead to an increase in domestic violence. She wouldn’t be able to solely focus on this once lockdown was announced. Not without a body. But she doesn’t want a body. A body is so final. “Do you think she could have taken her own life?” Clements probes. She tries to keep her tone neutral. Any hint of sympathy, empathy, shock or judgment can be leading. She wants to know what the best friend thinks.

“I don’t want to think that but it’s possible and maybe—”