Missing Believed Dead by Chris Longmuir Read Free Book Online Page A

emotions.
    ‘Ma’am!’
    She had been deep in thought and had not heard the constable approaching. ‘Yes?’ She smiled. ‘It’s DC Cartwright, isn’t it?’ The girl seemed hardly old enough to be a constable let alone a detective.
    ‘Yes, ma’am. I’ve found some interesting chat room stuff on the computer and we need to check it out with Mrs Fraser.’
    Kate frowned, concentrating on what the super had told her about ongoing cases. ‘Is that the family whose daughter is missing?’
    ‘Yes, ma’am.’
    ‘You’ve met the family?’
    ‘Yes, ma’am. I went with Bill – I mean DS Murphy, on the initial investigation.’
    ‘I see. I suppose we could wait for DS Murphy to come back. Do we know when that will be?’
    ‘No, ma’am.’ The young woman seemed embarrassed. ‘Should I wait for him?’
    ‘No, no!’ Kate nodded towards the detective constable at the other desk. ‘Take him with you.’
    ‘Yes, ma’am.’
    A few minutes later Kate prowled round the empty room, thinking it was amazing what you could deduce from a person’s desk and working space. When she came to DS Murphy’s, she tutted with exasperation and lifted the three files sitting on his desk. He needed a lesson on data security. She would make sure his name was put forward for the next training course.
    The phone in her office rang, breaking the silence. She walked briskly there, dropped the files on her desk, and lifted the receiver. ‘DI Rawlings!’
    She listened with rising excitement, scribbling the details on a writing pad. Replacing the pencil on the desk, she said, ‘Find DS Murphy, wherever he is, and instruct him to meet me at the Overgate multi-storey car park.’ She listened for a moment. ‘I don’t care what he’s involved in. This is a suspicious death and I’ll accept no excuses from him.’
    * * * *
     
    Bill drew into the kerb in front of the house in Johnston Avenue. It was one of a row of two-storey, semi-detached villas set back from the street with a small area of garden in front. He sat for a moment thinking what he was going to say, but when he finally got out of the car he was still undecided.
    The iron gate hung open and he strolled up the garden path and rang the bell.
    The sound of raised voices coming from inside the house stopped. He stood back to get a better view of the windows, waited a moment and rang the bell again. When there was no response he pressed it yet again and this time he kept his finger on it.
    Muted voices, the sound of scuffling and someone running downstairs, preceded the door opening.
    ‘OK, OK.’
    The slight young man who opened it looked flustered. A strand of hair had escaped his ponytail and flopped over his face.
    ‘You must be Ryan,’ Bill said, doing mental arithmetic. The boy was fifteen at the time of the initial investigation. He must be twenty now, although he looked younger – maybe because he was small.
    ‘Yeah!’ He frowned as if trying to remember who Bill was.
    ‘You don’t remember me?’ Bill rummaged in his wallet for his ID card. Finding it he held it up. ‘I was involved in the investigation of your sister’s disappearance.’
    ‘That was a long time ago.’
    ‘Yes,’ Bill said, ‘we’re having another look at it. D’you think I could talk to your parents?’
    ‘Mum’s at work. She won’t be back until after four.’
    ‘What about your father?’
    ‘He’s not here anymore.’ Ryan shuffled his feet and looked away.
    ‘And good riddance too – he was a waste of space.’ The girl coming down the stairs was slim with the same honey blonde hair he remembered her mother having, although hers was shorter and worn in a straight style that covered her ears and partly hung over her face almost masking one eye.
    ‘You must be Emma?’ Bill reckoned she would be eighteen now, although her unsmiling face, which reflected a mixture of maturity and vulnerability, made it difficult to tell.
    ‘Must I?’ she mocked, looking at him with serious