Hurt (DS Lucy Black) Page 9

  ‘Where’s he gone?’ Fleming asked, turning back to the woman again.

  ‘Manchester. He’s a lorry driver. He had to leave at five this morning to get the early ferry across.’

  ‘This would be Mr Finn, would it?’ Lucy asked, pointing to the picture on the mantelpiece.

  ‘No,’ Sinead said, with a confused laugh. ‘That’s Seamy.’

  ‘What’s his full name, Mrs Finn?’

  ‘Sinead, Jesus,’ the woman replied. ‘Seamus Doherty.’

  ‘Who does he work for?’

  ‘H. M. Haulage. Harry Martin’s his boss. He’s H. M.’

  ‘I see,’ Lucy said, jotting down the name. ‘Sarah wouldn’t be with Mr Doherty, would she? Maybe went to keep him company?’

  Sinead shook her head. ‘No. They don’t really get on. Sarah’s dad left a few years back and it’s still raw, like. You know?’

  ‘How long have you been with Mr Doherty?’

  ‘A year or two.’

  ‘Does he live here?’

  Finn nodded. ‘When he’s not working. He drives a lot.’

  ‘Have you checked with him that Sarah’s not with him at the moment?’

  ‘His phone’s switched off,’ Sinead said. ‘Besides, he’d have phoned to let me know if she was with him.’

  ‘And what about Sarah’s father? Would she be with him?’

  ‘I doubt it,’ Sinead said. ‘He lives in Australia. He headed out for work and never came back.’

  ‘How did Sarah take to you having Mr Doherty staying here?’ Fleming asked.

  ‘It’s my house, isn’t it?’ Sinead said.

  She lifted another cigarette, lit it off the butt of the smouldering one she held, then flicked the dead one into the fireplace. She folded her arms again, facing Lucy and Fleming, as if challenging them to disagree.

  ‘Of course,’ Fleming said. ‘Look, before we start a full search for Sarah, DS Black is going to take a quick look through the house. Just to double-check that she’s not here. Is that OK?’

  She bristled a little, perhaps at the implication that she may not have looked for her own daughter. Before she could speak, though, Fleming raised a placatory hand.

  ‘I’m sure you checked already, but sometimes we get called out to houses and the child in question is hiding somewhere inside. Sometimes they enjoy all the fuss and attention of people searching for them. It won’t take long.’

  ‘Please yourself,’ Sinead Finn said. ‘I’ve looked for her already.’

  ‘I understand,’ Fleming said, attempting a smile. Not quite managing it. ‘A fresh pair of eyes and that. How about you sit and tell me a bit more about Sarah? Give us a sense of who she is.’

  Chapter Twenty

  Lucy went to the rear of the ground floor first and worked her way up. The back room was a small toilet, plain. A raft of coats hung on coat pegs screwed to the wall. She patted through the coats; just to be sure Sarah wasn’t in there. The kitchen and dinette were next. There were precious few places where a fifteen-year-old girl could hide.

  The kitchen itself was small, something accentuated by the amount of stuff cluttering the worktops. The remains of a Chinese takeaway from the previous evening congealed to two plates. The tinfoil trays remained, half filled, among the torn scraps of a brown paper bag. Two wine bottles sat next to them; one empty, the other perhaps a quarter full. Two glasses sat beside it. The sink was filled with older dishes again: a pan with spaghetti sauce hardened to the surface, a scattering of plates and cups beneath it, forming a pyramid of crockery that spilled over onto the draining board.

  The next room was the sitting room where Fleming and Sinead Finn sat. Lucy could hear a snippet of the conversation as she passed the room and headed up the stairs to check the first floor.

  The upper floor had two bedrooms and a bathroom. The bathroom was to her left. She took a quick look in; nothing out of the ordinary. A white T-shirt and a pair of boxer shorts lay discarded behind the door, nestled on top of a sodden bath towel.

  Lucy stepped across to the glass above the sink which held toothbrushes and paste. Three brushes. Assorted pieces of make-up were scattered across the windowsill.

  Moving back out to the landing, she glanced into the next room, knocking on the door as she did so. It was, presumably, Sinead Finn’s bedroom. A double bed with the clothes spilling onto the floor. A pint glass of water sat on the bedside cabinet on one side, a crowded ashtray on the other. The face of the old-style alarm clock behind it was magnified through the glass. Lucy picked her way across and, lifting the clock, checked the alarm time: 4.30 a.m. As she replaced the clock on the cabinet, she noticed a number of small oval scorch marks blackening the cabinet surface.

  Two built-in wardrobes faced the bed. Lucy checked the first. A smattering of shirts and jeans, all male. Two pairs of sneakers sat on the floor.

  The dressing table between the wardrobes held more cosmetics and a large pine jewellery case, so full that the lid did not close properly. The second wardrobe contained Sinead Finn’s clothes, crammed tightly together in the space; Lucy struggled to make room to check that Sarah was not hiding behind them.

  Finally, Lucy dropped to the floor and checked under the bed. Another pair of trainers, a used condom folded on itself, a spoon, lying face down, the curve of its back blackened with soot. Quickly she got up again, wiped her hands on her trouser leg.

  The room next door was clearly Sarah’s. It was simply furnished. A single bed, white wooden frame. A desk and a wooden chair. A single standing wardrobe. A small cabinet beside the bed on which sat another alarm clock with a space on top for docking an iPod. Instinctively, Lucy checked the alarm time on this: 7.30 a.m. The alarm was turned off.

  The bed was neatly made, the pink duvet something Lucy would have expected in the room of a child many years younger than Sarah Finn. Again, she glanced under the bed, but the space was empty.

  She opened the wardrobe. Fewer clothes hung in this compared to Sinead’s. But what was there was hung neatly, first tops, then jumpers, then jeans. No dresses or skirts, Lucy noticed. Mind you, she didn’t wear either that often herself.

  ‘Are you lost up there?’

  Lucy looked out to see Sinead Finn mounting the final steps onto the landing.

  ‘I’m almost done. Is there anything missing from her room? Anything obvious?’

  The woman stepped into the bedroom and glanced around, mouthing quietly to herself as if counting off items on a list. ‘She’s an old rabbit sits on her bed,’ she said finally. ‘That’s about all.’

  ‘An old rabbit. A toy?’

  The woman snorted lightly. ‘Aye. An ole white thing her father gave her. She’d taken it down from the attic a few weeks ago and started sleeping with it.’

  ‘Any reason why?’ Fleming asked.

  ‘Why what?’

  ‘Why she started sleeping again with a childhood toy?’

  The woman looked at him, then shrugged, pulling her dressing gown around her as she did. ‘I dunno,’ she said.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Fleming stood at the door of the car, waiting for Lucy to unlock it. ‘What’s your feeling?’

  ‘Hard to say,’ Lucy commented. ‘She could have run away if she’s taken the rabbit toy with her.’

  ‘Though we need to get to the bottom of what made her start sleeping with it.’

  ‘Maybe she missed her dad,’ Lucy offered.

  ‘Maybe,’ Fleming agreed, though he sounded unconvinced. Lucy was well aware what he was thinking; older children regressing to childhood toys in that manner could be an indicator of something more sinister.

  ‘So, we know the mother started up with the new fella,’ Lucy said. ‘Maybe the girl was struggling with it a little.’

  Fleming nodded. ‘Follow up on the partner, Seamus Doherty. See if his work has a way of contacting him.’

  ‘He has another place,’ Lucy commented. ‘The clothes in the wardrobe upstairs look like spares he keeps for when he stays
over. He’s living somewhere else.’

  ‘Check again with Sinead Finn, see if she knows where else he might live.’

  ‘And one of them is using heroin. I found works in their bedroom.’

  ‘Of course you did,’ Fleming said, shaking his head. ‘That might explain why she didn’t even notice if the wee girl hadn’t come back last night. We’ll do a sweep around of the local shops, see what people have to say. And try to find out whereabouts on the road to Manchester Mr Doherty is at the moment.’

  They drove across to the small shopping area to the left of the local primary school. The block comprised a hairdresser’s, post office, supermarket and chip shop. They decided Lucy might have best luck in the hairdresser’s. Fleming volunteered to take the chippie.

  As she approached the shops, she noticed a gang of teenagers standing on the corner of the block. She thought she recognized some of them as having been with Gavin Duffy when she saw him standing opposite Gene Kay’s, but she couldn’t be sure.

  As she approached them, she realized that one of them was slightly older than the rest. The group fanned out behind him in a semicircle.

  He raised his chin slightly at her approach and she recognized him as the one who had shouted and winked at her when she and Fleming had left Kay’s house.

  Lucy scanned the group behind him for Gavin but could not see him.

  ‘I need some help,’ she said.

  The boy at the head of the gang smirked. ‘Do you now?’

  Lucy produced the picture of Sarah Finn and showed it to him. ‘Do any of you know this girl? She’s a local lass. She’s missing.’

  The youth shook his head.

  ‘That’s Sarah, Tony,’ one of those behind him said, earning a scowl for the comment from the youth whom Lucy now took to be Tony.

  ‘You do know her?’

  Tony nodded. ‘I know of her. She goes to the youth club times. That’s all. We’ve not seen her in a while though.’

  ‘We?’

  Tony nodded towards those behind him. ‘If they’d seen her, I’d have seen her.’

  ‘Will you let someone know if you hear anything of her whereabouts?’ Lucy asked. She pulled out her card, which Tony looked at but did not touch.

  He nodded. ‘We hear anything, we’ll pass it on,’ he said, then turned from her, indicating that, for him at least, their discussion was concluded.

  As it turned out, Lucy was finished much sooner than she expected in the hairdresser’s too. There were only two customers in there, neither of whom knew Sarah Finn. Like Tony and his gang, the girls working in the place knew her, but hadn’t seen her in a few days. They did promise to keep an eye out for her. Similarly, the post office next door was quiet, with only two people in the queue ahead of Lucy.

  The man behind the counter knew Sarah well, he said. She often came in on messages for her mum. She was a very sensible girl, he said. A little awkward, maybe. A little shy.

  ‘Have you see her today?’

  ‘No,’ the man said. ‘Not since yesterday afternoon. Why?’

  ‘She’s not come home,’ Lucy said. ‘Her mum’s asked us to look out for her. If she comes in at all, can you give me a call?’ Lucy handed the man the card Tony had refused to take through the gap at the bottom of the glass partition between them.

  ‘Of course,’ he said. ‘You know the mother then?’

  Lucy nodded. ‘Mrs Finn contacted us about Sarah. She’s very worried.’

  ‘Mmm,’ the man replied.

  Lucy waited a beat to see if he would elaborate, but to no avail. ‘What was Sarah in for yesterday?’

  ‘She was taking money out for her mother,’ he said. ‘Her card account. She withdrew two hundred pounds from her child benefit account.’

  ‘You’ve a good memory,’ Lucy said. ‘A police officer’s best friend.’

  ‘I remember that,’ he said. ‘Normally you wouldn’t let a child withdraw that kind of money, but Sarah did a lot of that type of stuff for her mother.’

  ‘I see,’ Lucy said.

  The man leaned closer to the glass. Lucy noticed his name tag resting against the partition. Ian Ross.

  ‘Have you met the partner?’

  ‘Seamus Doherty?’

  Ross nodded. ‘He’s a strange one. Quiet. He’s away a lot.’

  Lucy nodded, leaning closer in the hope that Ross might elucidate, but the man simply nodded knowingly.

  ‘Thank you, Mr Ross. That’s very helpful.’

  The man sank back to his stool. ‘I’ll call if I see Sarah,’ he promised. ‘I’ll ask about too, with the customers.’

  ‘That would be very helpful, Mr Ross,’ Lucy said.

  She headed back out to the car again, but there was no sign of Tom Fleming. The people in the corner shop must have been more talkative than he expected, she thought.

  Ian Ross’s comments had reminded her, however, that she was to follow up on Seamus Doherty.

  She took out her phone and googled H. M. Haulage. The first result gave the contact details and a Google map of the office location in Coleraine.

  A friendly sounding girl with a broad Ballymena accent answered the call almost immediately.

  ‘Can I speak with Mr Martin, please?’ Lucy asked, having introduced herself.

  ‘With what is it in connection?’ the girl asked.

  ‘With a missing person inquiry,’ Lucy replied tersely.

  She was put on hold without further comment and for almost two minutes Lucy listened to an electronic version of ‘Greensleeves’. Given the choice, she’d rather have listened to silence while she waited.

  Finally she heard a click and Harry Martin introduced himself. His voice was deep, gruff, his accent a little closer to home, as best Lucy could tell.

  ‘Yes, Inspector Black,’ Martin said. ‘You needed to speak to me.’

  ‘It’s Sergeant,’ Lucy said. ‘Thanks for your time. I’m trying to contact one of your drivers, Seamus Doherty. His mobile phone is out of network apparently. I was wondering if you might have some kind of system where I could contact him in his lorry.’

  ‘We do,’ Martin said. ‘But I’m not sure how much use it will be. Seamus isn’t out today.’

  ‘His partner told us he left at five this morning for a trip to Manchester.’

  ‘Not for me, he didn’t,’ Martin said. ‘We don’t have any contracts in Manchester.’

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Fleming appeared out of the chip shop a few minutes later, carrying two small brown bags in his hand.

  ‘Lunch,’ he said, tossing one of them to Lucy.

  ‘It’s gone three, sir.’

  ‘Dinner, then,’ Fleming said.

  ‘Bit early for chippie grub, sir,’ she commented, opening the bag. A floury bap sandwiched sausage, bacon, egg and potato bread. ‘Mind you, I did have an early start.’

  Fleming had already started into his own, chewing happily, his cheeks dimpled with dollops of tomato ketchup.

  ‘Seamus Doherty’s not in Manchester,’ Lucy said, opening her own bap and peeling the rind of fat off the bacon, before replacing the upper part of the bread and taking a tentative bite.

  ‘Where is he then?’ Fleming managed through a mouthful of food.

  Lucy shrugged as she chewed. ‘Not where he said he would be.’

  ‘And not answering his phone. Get the details of his lorry and organize a Be On Look Out.’

  Lucy nodded. ‘I’ll have to ask Mrs Finn.’

  ‘What did the boss say about Doherty? Anything useful?’

  Lucy shrugged. ‘Not much. Just they don’t have contracts in Manchester. He said if he was going there, it wasn’t for his company.’

  ‘So either he’s driving for someone else, or he’s been lying to Finn every time he’s told her he’s doing a Manchester run. Sound her out on that too.’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ Lucy said. ‘I spoke to the fella in the post office too. Sarah withdrew £200 from her mother’s child benefit account yesterday afte
rnoon.’

  Fleming slowed in his chewing. ‘Check if the mother knew. If not, the wee girl’s run away.’

  Lucy nodded agreement.

  ‘The shop was useless,’ Fleming added. ‘But the chippie proved more useful. And not just for these. The owner’s daughter was working in the place. She’s a friend of Sarah’s.’

  Lucy understood why Fleming had bought food now. It gave him an excuse to stand longer, encouraging the girl to talk while the food was prepared.

  ‘Sarah wasn’t at the youth club last night. She had to go out with her mother and Seamus Doherty for dinner. Because he was headed away for the week today.’

  ‘A week to go to Manchester?’

  Fleming raised his eyebrows as he popped the final mouthful of his bap into his mouth. ‘So she lied to both her mother and her friends. Plus she got herself a new phone a few weeks back. The girl has given me the number. Compare with the one the mother has and see if she knew about the phone,’ he added, handing her a torn corner of a brown paper bag on which the number was written.

  Lucy’s mobile phone rang. It was the desk sergeant in Maydown, confirming that a team of uniforms had been dispatched to Finn’s house to begin house-to-house inquiries.

  ‘Best head back and meet the team,’ Lucy said.

  They met the teams outside Sinead Finn’s house. Fleming split the uniforms into pairs and divided up the local housing estates around Fallowfield Gardens into six blocks, one for each pair. One of the men had brought copies of the picture Lucy had sent into the station.

  ‘Meet back here at 5.30,’ Fleming said. ‘And call either myself or DS Black if you find anything. I’m going to call down to the youth club just to double-check Sarah definitely wasn’t there last night.’

  As the pairs dispersed, Lucy called back in with Sinead Finn. The woman opened the door, then hobbled back into the living room. She still had on the white dressing gown she’d worn earlier.

  Lucy closed the door and followed her in. ‘Any word?’ she asked Sinead Finn’s retreating back.

  ‘Nothing,’ the woman said. ‘I’ve called all her friends. And her mobile, too,’ she added. ‘Nothing. No one’s seen her. Her friends said she wasn’t with them last night.’