A Killing Moon by Steven Dunne Read Free Book Online

suspicious spending on her cards. No phone calls, no sightings. I’d suggest she spontaneously combusted, but that’s supposed to leave a residue.’
    ‘Then why do I get the impression you know there’s something wrong here?’
    Now it was Brook’s turn to avoid eye contact. ‘I don’t know what you mean.’
    ‘Yes, you do. What is it? Gut instinct?’
    Brook looked up, an expression of derision on his face. ‘We’re not astrologers, John. We don’t read tea leaves. We work on evidence.’
    ‘Agreed,’ said Noble. ‘And we don’t have any, so what is it?’
    Brook hesitated. ‘You said you searched her room.’
    ‘Apart from her rucksack being gone, everything was in order,’ replied Noble.
    ‘That there. That’s what worries me,’ said Brook. ‘It’s too tidy. Students are messy – messy in their relationships, messy in their personal lives. The unplanned pregnancy tells me Caitlin was no different. If she left of her own volition, she couldn’t have removed herself from the face of the earth more thoroughly. That’s either a fluke or takes careful planning.’
    ‘And Caitlin’s not that careful.’
    Brook rubbed his tired eyes. ‘It was just an impression. On the other hand, she did carefully compartmentalise her lives in Derby and Belfast, so maybe that tells us something.’
    ‘So are we passing this on or not?’ said Noble.
    Brook sighed. ‘We don’t have a choice. Without leads, sightings or any sign of foul play, the only thing left to do is put her picture on the drinks cartons and wait.’
    ‘You forgot to mention crossing our fingers,’ said Noble, trudging to the door, a hand reaching for his cigarettes. No answer from Brook. ‘We keep a copy of the file in case we get a chance to revisit, okay?’
    ‘Absolutely.’
    Brook drove home after midnight along the dark, empty roads, uncoupling his mind from the challenges of the day. He loved the night drive out of Derby along the A 52 to Ashbourne and then on to his cottage in Hartington. It was a half-hour when he was forced to concentrate on the undemanding task of manoeuvring his aged car through the dark countryside of the Peak District.
    Spring had arrived and the promise of a few months walking around the hills after and sometimes before work was a great comfort to Brook. The prospect soothed his overworked brain, and made sleep possible at the end of the journey, if only for a couple of hours before insomnia took over and he rose in the small hours for his first tea of the day.
    Thirty minutes later, he dropped his laptop case on the kitchen table and opened the fridge almost as a reflex. For a detective who prided himself on evidence and logic, it was an odd thing to do, as the shelves were just as bare as they had been that same morning when he had reached in for the last pint of milk.
    He made a mug of tea and sat at the table, fumbling for his antiquated mobile phone. He hovered over his daughter’s number – one of only two on speed-dial – before thinking better of it. A phone call from a parent was bad news at any time, but after midnight it might induce panic. Instead he thumbed out a text – Not heard from you. How are you? – being scrupulous to punctuate and avoid text shorthand.
    A minute later, the briefest reply. I’m good . Brook frowned. A moment later, another message. Got U. No, I’m not a Yank. LOL. Wassup? Another victim remind you of me? Don’t deny it .
    Brook smiled as he tapped the keys. Am I so predictable? Actually victim not dead, just missing, and reminds me of me as a student .
    Who is he?
    He’s a she.
    V metrosexual ;)
    Brook was unsure of her meaning. Any chance of a visit?
    Rain check on the visit. I’m in Italy .
    ‘Italy?’ said Brook frowning. ‘I rest my case, John.’ He tapped out, Well thanks for letting me know . Not enamoured of the nagging tone, he deleted it, instead texted Ciao x , drank his tea and trudged upstairs to bed.

Six
     
    21 April
     
    Brook arrived at St