Their Lost Daughters (DI Jackman & DS Evans #2)(16)

Jackman had never heard her badmouth another officer before. The aggression in her voice was about as normal for Marie as a fish climbing a tree. In his book this meant some sort of emotional involvement. ‘So were you close? You and this colleague?’

At first he thought Marie wasn’t going to answer, then she said quietly, ‘She was my first crewmate, a great girl and so full of potential, until she turned down that slimeball’s advances.’ She shrugged. ‘It wouldn’t happen now. Cade wouldn’t have dared, for fear of a sexual harassment charge, but back then a young policewoman didn’t stand a chance against a senior officer like him.’

Jackman desperately wanted to delve deeper, but decided that now was not the time. He nodded and took it no further. Not that he’d leave it alone for too long. Marie had obviously never forgotten her old crewmate, and the anger she had felt had never dissipated. There was a story there that he was very interested to know — when the time was right.

A knock at the door dispelled his thoughts.

‘I’m your liaison officer, sir, PC Gary Pritchard. And I’m very pleased to meet you.’ An older man entered the tiny room and held out his hand.

As they shook hands, Jackman’s eyes narrowed. ‘Have we met before, Constable?’

‘I was seconded to your area to help out on the Red House Farm murder, sir. I’m surprised you remember me.’

‘I do. I always remember good coppers, and you were polite, helpful and remarkably efficient, considering that you were working way out of your comfort zone and for a different division.’

Jackman saw that Pritchard was blushing.

‘Glad to have been a help, sir,’ he murmured to his boots. ‘That was a nasty case, that one. All those deaths under one roof.’

‘Still, we eventually caught the intruder who killed them. Thank God.’ Jackman frowned. ‘That was the second of three terrible investigations in this area.’

‘Yes, sir. Years before, Harlan Marsh had the Mulberry shootings, when Simeon Mulberry shot his wife and then himself, right in front of his children. Then you had the massacre of the farm workers at Red House Farm, and then there was that tragedy at Dovegate Lane.’ He shook his head. ‘What a world we live in.’

‘Well, let’s hope this case is a simple one. Come on in, PC Pritchard, although I can hardly say make yourself at home.’

The constable looked apologetic. ‘Not exactly roomy, is it? This old place is pretty well ready for the wrecker’s ball. They keep promising new premises, but then they say the budget won’t stretch that far.’ He bit his lip and growled. ‘Even so, this is taking the proverbial. Shall I try to organise something a bit better?’

‘No, we’ll cope. Hopefully this is just a flying visit. Go find another chair, if you can fit it in, and fill us in.’

Gary Pritchard left, returning shortly dragging a chair, and in his other hand balancing a tray holding three polystyrene cups of coffee, a heap of sugar packets and some creamers. ‘I hope you both drink coffee. If you don’t you are unlucky, the tea here tastes like something left behind after the tide’s gone out.’

Jackman smiled. ‘Coffee’s great, thank you. So, Constable, why are we here?’

‘Well, actually it’s your own fault.’ Gary gave a cheeky grin. ‘Chief Superintendent Cade read the county stats regarding your recent arrest rate. When a Masonic friend of his hit a problem, he promised him he’d get the best team in the area onto it. And here you are!’

‘Oh, great! And are you really rushed off your feet with a serious investigation?’ asked Jackman.

‘We are up to our necks, sir, but then we don’t have the staff that your division has. And what seems serious to us out here in the sticks is probably not as bad as the things you deal with.’

‘Okay, you’d better give us the background.’

Gary sat down, stirred his coffee and frowned. ‘The girl, Toni Clarkson, is sixteen and a right little tearaway. It seems that her father, Neil Clarkson and his wife Ellen, have spoilt her to the point of ruining a kid who’s bright, if somewhat unruly.’

‘Has she run away before?’ asked Marie.

‘This is the fourth or fifth time. That is why there is no missing persons alert, even though she’s vulnerable because of her age. We could go public, but Daddy is shit-scared that we’ll find her crashed out, drunk as a skunk, in some squat and make him look a total fool.’

Jackman’s forehead had become a mass of creases. ‘So good old Chief Cade, his chum in high places, has roped us in to sort it out for him?’

‘As quickly and as quietly as possible, sir.’

‘Well, we’ll see about that, Constable,’ snapped Jackman. ‘I’m not renowned for my diplomatic fairy feet. We’ll do what needs doing, and in whatever manner I see fit.’

Gary nodded and gave a satisfied smile. ‘Oh, good.’

‘Nice to know we already have an ally in the camp. So what happened this time, Constable?’ asked Marie, taking out her notebook.

‘Yesterday Toni had a row with her mother over something quite trivial, but it escalated into a huge dust-up. Dad stuck his oar in and grounded her. Toni, as you’d expect, didn’t take it well, and when night fell she bunked off out of the bedroom window.’