Straight Back (5 page)

“I haven’t yet, son, no,” Catherine replied. She hadn’t been home from work that long before she’d started on dinner. Her job at the records office of the Hope Hospital in Salford was constantly under review, which meant it was constantly under an implied threat. So far she was holding on but if they did decided to pay her a handsome sum with which to ride comfortably into retirement, she wouldn’t object. In fact, she’d snap their bloody hands off. “Aren’t you going out tonight?”

“No,” said Leo. “I’ve quit drinking during the week just to give my body a bit of a break. I’ve said I’ll see them all on Friday.”

“You don’t mind if I continue to indulge?”

“Of course not,” said Leo, who’d finished loading the dishwasher and was now doing his best to enjoy sipping a mug of tea. This ‘no drinking’ business was so bloody boring. He could just go a nice pint now. “Did you make that appointment with the doctor?”

“What can he say that I don’t know already?”

“I didn’t think you had,” said Leo, who was concerned that his mother’s usual stubbornness might lead to a late diagnosis of something potentially serious.  “I want you to get everything checked out, mum. You’ve not been yourself lately.”

“And what is ‘myself’, son?”

“You see there you go,” said Leo. “I’ve never heard you talk like this before.”

“Oh, why did I have a son who’s like a dog with a bloody bone?”

“Well, you did,” said Leo. “And I know my mum. And I know when she’s in denial.”

Catherine knew Leo was right. The sharp, stabbing pain in her lower back had been growing in intensity and was starting to have a debilitating effect on her daily movements. She was fighting it because she was only fifty-eight and didn’t want to start acting like an invalid. In reality, she was scared to find out what it might be. She worked in a hospital. She was surrounded by sick people every day and, like most medical staff, she had no desire to become a patient.

“I’ll ring the doctor in the morning,” said Catherine.

“Do you promise?”

“Yes, I promise.”

“Good. Now go and get yourself settled down in the living room and I’ll bring you a glass of wine through.”

Catherine smiled at the considerate nature of her son. He’d make some girl a very lucky wife one day but, although he had a good social life, he never seemed to meet anyone special. He’d had a few skirmishes over the years but he’d never got engaged or even really serious with anyone. He wasn’t ugly or overweight. He wore decent clothes. He just didn’t connect with the big game of life and love. It made her worry sometimes about how lonely he might get when she’d gone. It didn’t seem to worry him though.

She went through to the living room and switched on the TV. With the remote control she pressed for
Sky News
. There was a time when she wouldn’t have been seen dead watching or reading anything owned by Rupert Murdoch but maybe it was something to do with the landscape out here in Littleborough. From her living room window she could see right across the moors and it tended to make her feel mellow. That and the fact she would also have to concede that she thought Sky was a pretty good news station. Sometimes better even than the BBC.

It was the second item that the presenter read out that caught Catherine’s attention. Her mouth literally dropped open with shock. The item was about a missing teenage girl from Manchester called Sheridan Taylor whose body had been found in the wreckage of a burned out car. She turned her head to see Leo standing there with her glass of wine in his hand looking like someone had stepped on his grave.

“Wasn’t she one of your students?” asked Catherine.

Leo swallowed. “Yes,” he said, before giving her the glass of wine. “I bloody need one of those too now.” He went back to the kitchen and poured himself a glass. He could feel his heart begin to beat faster and he leaned his forehead against the wall cupboard. He thought for a moment and then he looked up towards the front door and wondered how long it would be before the police came wanting to talk to him.      

“I’d just like to say how very sorry we are for your loss, Mrs Taylor,” said DI Rebecca Stockton. She was sitting on a chair in the living room of the Taylor home with DI Oliver Wright sitting beside her in the other chair. Ellie Taylor and her partner, Arif, were sitting opposite them on the sofa. Rebecca hadn’t exactly expected a warm welcome but it looked like this encounter was going to be harder than she thought.

“Well, I’m gratified I’m sure,” said Ellie, her voice shaking with emotion. She was overwhelmed with grief but she was also bloody angry at the way the police had handled the case so far. “I was wondering when you’d show up.”

“We came as soon as we thought it was appropriate, Mrs Taylor,” said Rebecca.

“As soon as you thought it was appropriate? You’ve got a bloody nerve. How come you didn’t think it was appropriate to instigate a search for my daughter once you knew what had happened at the petrol station? How come you didn’t distribute the picture from the CCTV before this morning when, as we all know now, it was too bloody late!”

Rebecca glanced sideways at Ollie.

“Oh, don’t bother looking at him,” Ellie commanded. “You are the senior officer in charge of this case, aren’t you?”

Rebecca swallowed. “Yes, I am, Mrs Taylor.”

“Then I’m asking you to explain how my baby girl came to die all alone in a car that was on fire when you should’ve been out there looking for her?”

Rebecca was at the tail end of an absolute hell of a day. Not only had she received sideways looks of disapproval from other officers outside her team but the press conference she’d had to endure earlier had been like a lynch mob. They all wanted to know why the search hadn’t been instigated once they had the CCTV picture and literally grilled Rebecca on it. But that all paled into insignificance compared to having to look the mother of Sheridan Taylor in the eye, like she was doing right now.

“Mrs Taylor, if I may,” said Ollie, by way of rescuing Rebecca. “We had no way of knowing if it could’ve made a scrap of difference to release the picture of Sheridan as soon as we had it.”

“So why didn’t you?” Ellie wanted to know. The fear of what her little girl might’ve suffered during those few hours was beginning to overwhelm her again, just like it had been doing all day since they’d found out. “I mean, do you have any idea what might’ve happened to her during those hours she was missing and how the thought of that is killing me?”

“Do you know who the driver of the car might’ve been, Mrs Taylor?” asked Rebecca.

“What?”

“Well, it’s clear to us that Sheridan must’ve known who it was, otherwise she wouldn’t have got into the car so easily.”

“My daughter may be sixteen but she’s still at school and wouldn’t know anyone who drives around in a big car, picking up teenage girls,” said Ellie.

“Then how do you explain why she went off in that car, Mrs Taylor?”

“Oh, I know what you’re doing,” Ellie snarled. “You’re trying to shift the focus away from your mistakes.”

“Mrs Taylor, we’re doing nothing of the sort, we’re simply trying to work out what happened.”

“I’ll tell you what happened. You didn’t put her picture out quick enough which lost you valuable time. My daughter’s death is on your hands, Detective.”

Rebecca decided to take that one on the chin and keep going. “Mrs Taylor, the driver of the car is still out there and we’re determined to find him so we can give you the kind of answers that may bring you some kind of peace.”

“Some kind of peace? Are you mad? I’ll never find some kind of peace over this!”

“Okay, I apologise for the choice of words, Mrs Taylor but we’re doing everything we can with regard to this case.”

“You’re a liar.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“You said, at your press conference this morning, that you’d put out a notice last night to all police stations in Greater Manchester telling them to inform you if there were any reports of missing teenage girls, no matter how long they’d been missing. And yet when I rang our local station at nine o’clock last night and told them that Sheridan had been missing since the afternoon I was told that they weren’t interested until Sheridan had been missing for twenty-four hours. Therefore, either they didn’t follow your instructions or you’re a liar.”

Rebecca was seething. She knew that the notice had gone out. Why had that station slipped up? Heads would roll over this. As if there weren’t enough bullets being loaded into the gun and pointed at her.

“I’m sorry, Mrs Taylor,” said Rebecca. “The notice did go out and I don’t know why it wasn’t followed in this instance but I can assure you there’ll be a formal enquiry and we will get to the bottom of it.”

“A formal enquiry? You can have all the formal enquiries you like but it won’t take away my pain. You didn’t know how old she was. All you knew was that she was a teenager but you didn’t know if she was a minor or an adult and that should’ve given you an even greater incentive to try and track her down. Do you know what it’s like? Do you know what it feels like to watch the morning news and see your daughter’s picture splashed across the screen? Do you know what it feels like to find out from that same news programme that she murdered someone and then died in a burned out car? Can you conceive of how that feels? Can you?”

Ellie didn’t know how much more she could take. When her ex-husband, Brian, had betrayed her in such a brutal and public way, she hadn’t known a broken heart like it but she’d had to pick herself and her daughters up and start all over again. She hadn’t had any choice, if only for the sake of her daughters Sheridan and Paige, and because she’d never been one to just give up the ghost when the going got tough. They’d moved from their dream home to somewhere that was less than ideal but she’d managed to keep the roof over their heads. She’d managed to work things out sufficiently so they could survive and continue with their lives. It had been a struggle and Sheridan had taken against everything, right from the start, which hadn’t made things very easy. Then Ellie had taken a part time job at the nearby refugee centre which was where she met Arif. He was the epitome of tall, dark and handsome with his dark, dark eyes and jet black hair. She’d fallen for him instantly although she’d been cautious not to let it show until she was sure that he felt the same way. She brought him into her life and his charm and the beautiful way he spoke English were a hit with everyone except Sheridan. Sheridan held out even when Ellie became pregnant with Tariq. Now she had a beautiful son to go with her beautiful daughters but still Sheridan refused to embrace any of it. She’d watched the anger rise up in her so unpredictably at times. She’d once hit her sister Paige and for a while Paige had refused to be alone with her big sister. And, all the time, Ellie’s ex-husband, Brian, hadn’t been in touch. She’d wanted him to take Sheridan for a while and see if a few weeks with her dad might calm her down and make her more rational. If only Brian had been willing to be a responsible parent, perhaps none of this would’ve happened.

“Why didn’t you start looking for her last night?” asked Arif. “Who made that decision?”

“I did,” said Rebecca. “I didn’t want anyone protecting Sheridan if they recognised her. Because, let’s not forget here, that she murdered a stranger who was standing up for a man who Sheridan was abusing. Let’s not forget that, with all due respect.”

“I think you’d better leave,” said Arif. He was holding Ellie as she sobbed.

“Where are your other children?” asked Ollie.

“Both Paige and our son Tariq are with their grandmother, Ellie’s mother, in Ashton-under-Lyme. Paige, as you can imagine, is distraught about the death of her sister and about the circumstances surrounding her death.”

“You’ll pay,” said Ellie.

“Sorry?” said Rebecca.

“Your decision led to the death of my daughter and you will pay for that,” Ellie warned. “I’ll make sure of it.”

Jeff Barton was tucking into his breakfast on the flight from Hong Kong to Manchester. He’d opted for the ‘English’ breakfast but immediately wished he hadn’t. The sausages tasted of nothing, the bacon was as dry as sticks, and the scrambled eggs were okay but not exactly moist. His son, Toby, had gone for the Chinese breakfast of three different types of dim sum and was very proudly sitting there, eating it using his chopsticks. It made Jeff smile. He loved the bones of his son. Nothing and no-one would ever come between them. 

‘Daddy?” Toby asked.

“Yes, mate?”

“Do you think Brendan will cook dim sum for my breakfast when we get home?”

“Well, we can ask him,” said Jeff. He’d given Brendan, their live-in housekeeper and male nanny some time off whilst they’d been away but he was due back to the house later on today. “He could go with your grandma to the Chinese supermarket to get them. I don’t think they’re that difficult to cook.”

“Or Grandma could bring them for him when she comes to see us?”

“Yes, I suppose she could,” said Jeff. “I don’t think she’d mind.”

Jeff and his son were returning to the UK by themselves. Jeff’s late wife’s parents, with whom they’d travelled out, were staying on in China for another week. They’d had a wonderful holiday. Jeff took great delight seeing Toby soaking up his late mother, Lillie Mae’s, Chinese heritage and he was determined that he would always do so. Lillie Mae’s mother, Cynthia, had talked with Jeff at great length one evening. She said that she and her husband would completely understand if Jeff met someone else and wanted his life to move on. All they asked was that he’d maintain contact with them and never allow Toby to forget his Chinese heritage. Jeff had reassured her on both counts.