Ready or Not (14 page)

             
The manager got up, ready to disappear back into his office.

             
Kate reached across the counter and grabbed him by the shirtsleeve; a little more authoritatively than she had intended. He glared at her and pulled his arm away brusquely, shaking himself so that crumbs fell from his beard like dandruff.

             
‘I’m sure you’ll find a way around that, Sir,’ she snapped. ‘You have an hour to work it out. Otherwise I’ll send some people to help you.’

             
Back outside Pontypridd train station Kate took her mobile from her pocket and made a call back to her office.

             
‘It’s Kate,’ she said. ‘The manager at Morgan’s doesn’t want to play ball. Get someone with a search warrant round there within the hour and find out who hired this bloody car.’

Eighteen

It
was half past one when Anna Ferguson walked into the station and asked to speak to Chris Jones. He took her into one of the interview rooms and offered her a cup of tea.

             
‘I’d rather have a Bacardi Breezer,’ she said, grinning.

             
Chris rolled his eyes. ‘Tough.’ He sat opposite her. ‘What can I do for you?’

             
The girl was young – late teens, possibly early twenties – but she had a confident air about her and a disdainful expression, as though her mere presence at the station was an honour for which Chris should be duly grateful.

             
Anna sat back in her chair and looked around the room though there wasn’t much to look at. She checked underneath the desk and behind her seat then nodded slowly when she spotted the camera in the corner of the ceiling. She chewed frantically on a piece of gum, occasionally pausing to blow a blue bubble.

             
‘Is that thing on?’ she asked, nodding to the camera.

             
Chris said nothing and let her come to her own conclusions.

             
‘Never been in a police station before,’ she said, turning her attention back to him. ‘Bit of a dump, init.' She looked him up and down; her eyes dark, burdened by the weight of her thick lashes which were heavy with black mascara. She gave him a coy smile that Chris suspected was designed to make him feel uncomfortable. It didn’t.

             
‘Not what I was expecting,’ she said, disappointed.

             
‘What were you expecting?’

             
She shrugged and rested her elbows on the table. ‘Dunno,’ she said. ‘They always look a bit more exciting on the telly though.’ 

             
‘Well,’ Chris said, keen to get the conversation moving to something more relevant than Anna’s view on police station interior design, ‘now we’ve done the décor and now you’ve seen you’re not missing anything, how about you tell me what you came here for? I’m pretty busy, so let’s try and make it quick.’

             
She leaned further forward in her seat and placed a hand on the desk between them, her long fingers with their manicured pink painted nails splayed. Her lipstick smile widened. ‘Is there a reward?’ she asked, drumming her nails on the desk and leaning forward.

             
She was trying his patience and the nail drumming became quickly irritating. ‘Look, Anna,’ he said, levelling with her. ‘How about you just tell me what it is you want to tell me and I won’t have you arrested for wasting police time?’

             
The confident air evaporated. Anna sat back anxiously in her seat and pulled her hand from the desk. ‘Alright,’ she snapped defiantly. ‘Chill out, granddad – give us a chance.’

             
Chris smiled and put his elbows on the desk. ‘Fire away.’

             
‘It’s about that Joseph Ryan bloke,’ she said, taking the gum from her mouth. She suddenly had Chris’ full attention. It was amazing, he thought, how quickly bad news could spread across a relatively large town. ‘The one who was found in the park this morning, right? Well, it might be nothing, but I saw him last night.’

             
Chris raised his eyebrows slowly. ‘Where, Anna?’

             
Anna wriggled in her seat, distractedly looking around her and up at the camera. She stretched her chewing gum between her fingers, coiling it around her thumb before popping it back in her mouth.

             
‘Freaky, isn’t it?’ she said, chewing agitatedly. ‘Bang. Over, just like that. Things like that don’t happen round here.’

             
Chris watched her working the gum around her mouth.

             
‘He wasn’t shot though, was he?’ she said. ‘I don’t know why I said ‘bang’.’

             
‘How do you know about Joseph Ryan?’ Chris asked, ignoring her question. ‘He was only found this morning.’

             
Anna shrugged. ‘Small town, isn’t it?

             
Isn’t it just, Chris thought. It was incredible where so many people had come from that morning, even at such an early hour. People never tired of drama or a chance to gossip about it.

‘I wasn’t going to come
here, like, but I don’t want that on my

c
onscience, do I?’

‘Don’t want what on your conscience, Anna?’

He wondered why she posed every statement as a question, as if she

needed an answer for everything she already knew the answers to.

             
‘Well, knowing that I didn’t come. I don’t want people knowing where I

work, see. Well…more to the point, I don’t want my brother knowing – he’d kill

me. I mean, like, literally.’ She ran her hand across her throat. ‘Know what I

mean?’

              Chris nodded.

             
‘I work in Candy’s,’ Anna finally admitted, and Chris wasn’t surprised that she was trying to keep it from her brother. The place hadn’t been open very long and was Pontypridd’s first and only strip club. There’d been public outcry when the building had been sold to its new owners, but as far as the council were concerned it didn’t matter what was going on inside as long as the place was funding itself. Better for it to be a strip club than a boarded up, run-down premises that was an eye sore amongst the street’s other buildings.

             
‘You know…’ Anna said, lowering her voice as though the room was bugged and glanced, nervously, at the camera fixed to the wall in the far corner of the room. ‘The exotic dance bar in town?’

             
‘The strip club?’

             
Anna shrugged and sat back. ‘You say tomato…anyway, whatever – he was in there with some bloke.’

             
‘What bloke?’

             
‘I don’t know, do I?’ Anna said indignantly, looking at Chris as though he’d asked a stupid question. ‘How would I know? I just work there. Never seen him before. Nice looking bloke. I remember him ’cos he wasn’t pervy. Most of them are, see. That Ryan bloke…’

             
Chris waited. ‘That Ryan bloke what?’ he asked.

             
‘Sleazy,’ Anna said. She pulled a face. ‘Urghhh. Anyway,’ she continued, ‘I can’t tell you any more than that. Is there a reward?’

             
‘What did he look like?’ Chris asked, ignoring the question. ‘This man Mr Ryan was with.’

             
Anna paused and blew a bubble. It was a little bigger than she’d expected and burst over her chin, sticking to the skin around her mouth. Chris waited patiently as she scraped at the gum with a pink talon, dragging off an inch of foundation along with it.

             
She was probably an attractive girl without the mask, Chris thought. And probably a nice girl if only she’d drop the hardened attitude.

             
‘He was sitting down,’ she said, ‘so I don’t know how tall he was or anything. Probably about average. How tall are you?’             

             
‘Six feet two.’

             
‘Oh,’ Anna said. ‘Shorter than you then. He had dark hair – not really dark like black – just sort of dark. Thirty-ish. Really blue eyes – like, proper blue. I remembered them ’cos they were so…you know...’

             
‘Blue?’ Chris finished for her.

             
‘Yeah,’ Anna nodded.

             
Chris looked at her as she continued to chew and try to recollect the man she’d seen with Joseph Ryan.

             
‘Do you always remember customers in such detail, Anna?’ he asked, the sarcasm passing over her unnoticed.

             
‘Clients,’ she corrected him, offended. ‘Only the ones who leave big tips. And I never seen eyes as blue as them before.’ 

             
‘What about Joseph Ryan?’ Chris asked. ‘What do you remember about him?’

             
Anna shrugged. ‘Not much really. Like I said, sleazy. Good looking, but knew it, which is always a bit off-putting, don’t you think?’

             
For a brief moment, Chris unwittingly pictured Kate Kelly. If there was a perfect example of someone unaware of their own beauty or the effects that it could have on others, it was her.

             
He cleared his throat and thanked Anna for coming to see him.

             
‘Something else though,’ she said. ‘I think you need to have a word with my mate.’

             
‘Your mate?’ Chris said. Why was this girl making him repeat the end of every sentence?

             
‘Lauren Carter,’ she said. ‘She’ll be able to tell you more about Ryan than me.’ She smirked, pleased with herself.

             
Chris leaned back in his chair. ‘Why’s that, Anna?’ he asked.

             
Anna blew another blue bubble with the gum she’d been chewing on non-stop throughout their conversation. She paused, making sure she had Chris’ full attention and leaned back in her chair, smiling smugly.

             
‘She was having it off with him, wasn’t she,’ she said.

Nineteen

Kate was making her way back through the town centre when she heard a voice behind her, calling her name. Neil hurried across the road towards her. He looked warm despite the chilly afternoon air, as though he’d been rushing somewhere, and self-consciously ran a hand through his hair, aware that he looked dishevelled and that he was sweating. Kate felt the same self-consciousness and looked down at her outfit, hoping Neil wouldn’t notice the coffee stain on her skirt.

             
‘Have you had lunch?’ Neil asked unexpectedly.

             
Kate considered her answer carefully. Despite the seven biscuits she’d devoured while watching the Taff Street CCTV footage, she was very hungry and the mere mention of the word lunch made her stomach rumble. Think, Kate, she told herself. You are working on the case of this man’s missing son. You met him yesterday. You don’t know him. If anyone sees you this could be deemed highly inappropriate and unprofessional.

             
She thought back to last night, about standing in her flat in the absence of the last of Stuart’s belongings; remembered the way in which she had held Neil’s mobile number in her hand, contemplating the call.

             
She remembered Lydia’s voice answering Chris’ phone.

             
It was just lunch, she told herself. Just a very quick, unassuming sandwich. Harmless.

             
‘I’ve got half an hour,’ she said.

             
The cafe was a busy, very public place in which they could quite legitimately be holding a business meeting or an update on the case regarding Ben’s disappearance; nothing that would look odd or out of place should anyone from the station see them there together.

             
In essence, that was all it was anyway; just an innocent lunch meeting between a detective inspector and the father of a missing boy. Kate was leading the case on his missing son; what was she supposed to do: avoid him completely?

             
Kate straightened her skirt as Neil held the door for her and she tried to avoid eye contact with him. A perfectly innocent lunch meeting, she repeated to herself. Who are you trying to kid, Kate Kelly? 

             
She really did only have half an hour; she didn’t want to waste any further time before she got back to the station and saw Clayton with the new evidence she was sure she had found that morning. She and Neil would have a quick lunch and then she would head back. She was hoping that by the time she got back to the office one of the PCs would have made progress on finding out who’d hired the car that she’d spotted on the CCTV camera: the mysterious vehicle that had stood motionless for over two hours on the day that Stacey Reed had gone missing. Pity the tapes weren’t good enough to see who was driving it. Or anyone else who’d been in car.

             
Neil led the way to a table in the far corner of the cafe. He waited for Kate, pulling the chair back for her, and she was fascinated by his old fashioned manners. The gesture was so rare these days that it seemed almost archaic, yet it was undeniably endearing and made him all the more attractive. Kate took a moment to absorb the details of his appearance. His thick hair was gelled slightly in a slight flick at the front, with the back left loose and tousled. On anyone else, Kate thought, it may have looked as though he was trying too hard, but on Neil, she thought, it looked effortlessly handsome, as though he had rolled out of bed that morning as unruffled as he’d looked the night before.

             
Although in his early to mid thirties and with the earliest sign of crow’s feet etching the corners of his eyes, Neil still had a youthful look about him. He wore dark grey denims and a light grey, V-neck sweater with a white t-shirt underneath. Kate hadn’t yet worked out what it was about Neil Davies that had made her feel so instantly comfortable in his company. His honesty regarding his children, the circumstances of his past and the way in which he had spoken about his son; all had made him somehow more attractive to her. The fact that he was incredibly good looking had also contributed, Kate thought.

             
She looked down and again checked the creases in her skirt, smoothing the front of it with the palms of both hands. She was wearing a white shirt with a loose black skirt; not exactly what she’d have chosen if she’d known she was going to bump into this man. She was revealing the slightest hint of cleavage, but decided it could stay.

             
What are you doing, she scorned herself. There are two children missing and you’re behaving like a teenager on a first date.

             
‘I really can’t stay long,’ she said apologetically, flustered and slightly ashamed of her own behaviour. ‘You know how it is.’

             
He smiled and passed her the menu. ‘You must be hungry,’ he said. ‘It’s pretty late for lunch.’

             
Kate nodded and took the menu from him. ‘Starving,’ she said, returning his smile.

             
They looked at the menu without speaking, both aware of the silence, which seemed to be getting louder the longer neither of them spoke. The noise of the rest of the café built walls around them. When the waitress arrived at the table Neil ordered a brie and bacon panini, waiting first for Kate to place an order for the mozzarella and tomato alternative. Again Kate noticed the old-fashioned manners, as well as Neil’s perfectly straight teeth.

             
They offered as good an opportunity as anything else to break the silence.

             
‘You’ve got great teeth,’ she said.

             
‘Thank you,’ Neil smiled, accepting Kate’s compliment graciously. ‘I got them from my father.’

             
Kate narrowed her eyes in mock criticism. ‘Not literally, I hope,’ she replied.

             
It had been meant as a joke, but as soon as the words had left her mouth and Kate heard herself speak aloud she realised what a ridiculous comment it had been.

             
Immediately, her face began to colour.

             
‘Oh my God,’ she said quietly, putting a hand to her face. ‘What a stupid thing to say.’

Neil looked serious for a moment. His blue eyes studied her

thoughtfully then his face broke into a wide smile and he laughed. ‘I confess, Officer,’ he said, raising his hands in mock surrender. ‘It was me. I nicked me old man’s gnashers.’

             
Kate laughed and felt her colour subside a little. ‘That’s Detective Inspector, to you,’ she said, surprised at the teasing tone in her voice; the girly voice that sounded nothing like her own. 

             
The arrival of the waitress with their food provided a much needed distraction; a break in conversation that allowed Kate a moment to compose herself and return to her natural colour. She watched Neil interact with the waitress; the curiously old-fashioned manners still in place, obviously not put on for her benefit.

             
Whilst they ate they discussed Neil’s son and the progress made on his case. Unfortunately the contacts recorded in Sarah Davies’ old address book had led nowhere. Sarah’s sister, Claire, who now lived in Newport, had been contacted but hadn’t seen or heard from Ben, and the few friends of the family that had been listed in the book hadn’t been in contact with any of the family for years. Kate had earlier been interviewed for a news appeal for the following morning’s local paper and she was hoping it would bring some information as to Ben’s whereabouts.

             
As she talked, Neil listened. It was a rare treat these days to have a man talk with, rather than at her and Kate relished the attentiveness Neil showed her and the way in which he responded to what she said. With Stuart, Kate had often found herself having one way conversations, with the occasional ‘hmmm’ thrown in for good measure on his part; small attempt to demonstrate that he was paying any attention at all. Similarly, any recent interaction with Superintendent Clayton had simply involved Kate being reprimanded and looked at with that fatherly ‘I am very disappointed in you’ expression. The only man other than Neil who listened to Kate was Chris, but he had too many other more important things to worry about at the moment. 

             
‘What about your daughter?’ Kate asked, thinking momentarily of Chris and Holly.

             
‘Sophie?’

             
‘Do you see her often?’

             
Neil looked down at his plate of food and pushed a piece of lettuce around with his fork. ‘Not as often as I would like,’ he replied. His voice was tinged with sadness and he looked away from his plate, his attention drifting to the far wall.

             
‘I’m sorry,’ said Kate. ‘I didn’t mean to pry.’

             
Neil shook himself from his reverie. ‘You’re not,’ he assured her. ‘Actually, I saw Sophie on Tuesday. She’s very upset about her brother.’

             
‘Understandably. Look, I’m sure when the appeal goes out tomorrow we’ll hear something. Ben’s OK. I’m sure of it. We’ll find him.’

             
She knew as she spoke the words that she shouldn’t be making promises she might not be able to keep, but she truly felt that Neil’s son had come to no harm, regardless of the days that had passed. But hadn’t she thought the same about her own brother, all those years ago? And wasn’t she still no closer to finding out whether she was wrong to maintain such hope for his return?

             
Neil offered to pay for lunch but Kate refused, insisting that they each pay for their own share. After pooling their change together and leaving it on the table they both reached to the floor for Kate’s jacket, which had fallen from the back of her chair and on rising almost bumped heads in an awkward and clumsy moment.

             
His face inches from hers, Kate could smell the scent of his aftershave. He held her stare for a little too long, a little more than was comfortable: a look she was already becoming accustomed to. For a moment, she thought he was going to kiss her.

             
‘You finished with these?’

             
The waitress standing behind them made them both jump. Neil and Kate replied at the same time and the young girl who had served them began clearing their plates and glasses. Kate put on her jacket and took her bag from her seat.

             
‘Well,’ she said; eager to move attention from the awkwardness of what had almost just happened between them. ‘Thank you for an enjoyable lunch. A lot nicer than a canteen sandwich eaten in the car, I can tell you.’

             
Neil smiled. ‘Anytime,’ he said. ‘And thank you.’

             
They made their way back through the café and stepped out into the street. Neil put a hand out to Kate, gently taking her by the arm. ‘Look,’ he said, as she turned to him, ‘thanks for listening. If you ever want to…well…’ he faltered. For a moment, Kate noticed, there was a vulnerable quality about him. The same vulnerability that had made her want to reach out to him and touch his cheek during that first meeting at the station. Christ, she was supposed to be an intelligent, insightful detective, wasn’t she? Not a woman who turned to blancmange at the first hint of a handsome smile.

             
‘…you know,’ he finished, giving her a smile that was both melancholy and exhaustingly handsome.

             
She smiled back. ‘I know,’ she said. ‘Thanks.’

*

Kate was making her way back to the station when a young WPC she had met just a few times before called her on her mobile.

             
‘Someone’s been ringing for you,’ she said. ‘Seems keen – he’s phoned about three times.’

             
Kate waited a beat. Not another missing child, she thought. Not today.

             
‘Andrew Langley,’ the girl told her.

             
‘Don’t know him,’ Kate said hurriedly. ‘What did he want?’

             
‘He said to tell you he’s got news about Daniel.’

Twenty

Chris Jones waited while Lauren Carter finished guiding a young couple through the advantages of single-storey living. Close enough to eavesdrop he couldn’t believe the
crap that had clearly been drummed into these workers at estate agent school, or whatever training it was they went through in order to qualify in the trade of selling people false hope and properties that were rarely worth the purchase price. Surely the couple on his side of the desk – who appeared intelligent and savvy enough to know better – were not going to fall for this well rehearsed bullshit? Didn’t they know that a ‘spacious apartment’ translated as a ‘poky flat’?