Chapter One; Moving On
Detective Inspector Rose Callaghan stood up from behind her desk. Scraping her light brown hair up behind the back of her head as she tied the elastic hair band tightly through her hair. Rolling her neck, she felt the tension of the day through her shoulders and ache down her spine.
She was tired she hadn't eaten all day and had undertaken an eight-mile run at half six this morning. Turning the back of her wrist to face her she sighed noting that the time was already a little after ten past nine. Outside her office every desk in the larger open plan office for her team sat empty, screens powered down. Lack of commitment she pondered or an example of common sense.
Her meeting from earlier in the day with Bernadette Wise was still troubling her though; the conviction in that woman's voice, the tears in her eyes as she'd recounted, no doubt for the thousandth time how her daughter following a night out had simply vanished, seemingly into thin air. Both Uniform Officers and Detectives at the time had carried out thorough if cursory routine enquiries. Her mobile had last been triangulated to a property on the far side of town. A property well known to uniform that belonged to a Mr. Gurpreet Patel, an Indian Landlord who had no knowledge and no idea that the property he was letting out through a local agency was regularly being used to host large gatherings, come parties every Friday and Saturday night. Patel has been long ruled out of the investigation, an innocent victim himself not least given he'd been living in Delhi for the last nine months. Callaghan had seen the photos, his house had been trashed, ransacked, as if a swarm of locusts had torn through and stripped the residence. More to the point no one individual was seemingly connected to the lease of 57 Immingham Rise so that a leaseholder could be questioned let alone held culpable of who or what was connected to the property. This oversight thanks to a seeming lack of a process at Graves and Freeman, the letting agency, where there had been shockingly insufficient background checks and no reliable records to capture exactly who the property had been let to for the sum of twelve hundred and fifty pounds a month back in August of last year. Documentation had all been signed in the name of a Mr. James Wolf, who's list of references not surprising held no credence, Wolf's no doubt fake signature being the only one on the paperwork, despite the tenancy agreed for six rooms in what was supposed to be the shared residence property.
The regular complaints of noise and anti-social behaviour from the neighbours hadn't been enough to warrant anything beyond acceptance of being a regular nuisance call out to her colleagues in Uniform. Occasionally a squad car was sent to attend the property in cursory response to the neighbours' complaints; this despite the frequency of received complaints and the recognised growing reputation around the address. Bottom line was Uniform Police were massively understaffed, noisy private parties didn't warrant their attention. Students just doing what Students did, being noisy, getting out their minds and having no consideration for anyone else. Best to let them get on with it was undoubtedly the stance taken. Only now did the matters not seem trivial, only now when noise and drug complaints paled into insignificance when the property related to a Missing Persons Investigation.
Similar to any check on the background of the tenants at the property the profile of the Tinder date Mica Wise had been on shed no light. Three images against a name of Alex Russell. A name that yielded no results when it had been cross referenced against the photos and their database. The photos must have been accurate for Mica Wise to have met, on at least three known occasions, with the man she believed to be Alex Russell. The salubrious nature of online dating Callaghan thought to herself. The platforms mixed the desperation of singletons to the hope of genuine relationships but matching them more often than not for quick hook ups, one-night stands and the opportunity of infidelity. To this day Callaghan could not understand how anyone could put any faith or trust in essentially a mobile app that could be signed up to in a matter of minutes without any formal identity check or verification.
The file on her desk detailed every message sent between Mica and Alex Russell through the App. He'd been the first to make contact with her. His messages a blend of charm and humour that had led to a rendezvous at a presumed to be safe public location, given the unofficial etiquette of such meets arranged online, the local Nando's was in Callaghan's opinion hardly a romantic first date location. Following a string of initial messages all communication seemed to have switched infuriatingly to WhatsApp messages. Infuriating because despite the ongoing investigation into Mica's disappearance the company, a subsidiary of Facebook, refused to assist any Police Investigation by sharing the content of secure messages. In the absence of a mobile phone to physically unlock to access such messages it was in Callaghan's opinion tantamount to negligence on behalf of such a huge organisation that they could knowingly withhold details that could prove to be vital information.
Tinder and more importantly Alex Russell, whatever his true identity, did though provide a known link to the second file on her desk. Callaghan picked up a black and white photo of local schoolteacher, Leah Davis. Leah had been reported missing by her best friend Leon Mackenzie five days after a Tinder date with an Alex Russell. Five days, some friend. CCTV of the night in question from both the 'Lune Bleue' restaurant and her apartment block showed the couple engaged in a seemingly relaxed convivial atmosphere. A little after ten thirty they'd caught a taxi which had dropped Leah Davis home. Again, CCTV clearly showed this to be the case. ANPR cameras had tracked the Taxi to a block of flats in the Docks where the Taxi Driver confirmed he'd dropped the man alleging to be Alex Russell a little before eleven o'clock. The Driver when interviewed, some eight weeks later, hadn't recalled the fare let alone anything remarkable as the witness statement recorded. Needless to say, there was no record of an Alex Russell at the address he'd been dropped at and the concierge team at the exclusive address had no knowledge of a visitor or resident matching Russell's description. Shadows had been chased from day one of the disappearance of Leah Davis.
At some point between ten thirty on that Saturday evening and the following Thursday the 23rd of November Leah Davis had simply, inexplicably disappeared. The last known sighting matching the last known triangulation of her mobile phone, the time stamp a matter of minutes apart. Two to be precise. Her mobile had been found in a lift at her own apartment block, featuring in a 'Lost' notice pinned to the residents notice board in the foyer where she lived. A neighbour had kept the phone safe until Uniform had applied a little common sense.
Who was Alex Russell was Callaghan's big question? He being the one man who linked these two seemingly unconnected young women. Despite numerous appeals and floating his photo via local and national channels no information had been forthcoming. The man was an enigma to them, a ghost himself with the ability to disappear.
The final file on Callaghan's desk was for that of Alison Hughes, an engaged Sales consultant from the Cosmetics and Perfume department of Graysons the City Centre department store. Alison had gone missing on the way home from work on the evening prior to Mica Wise's reported disappearance. Alison Hughes fiancé had reported her missing within hours of her not returning home. His alibi was watertight, despite the inevitable cross-reference that had been undertaken. Callaghan had watched the video of his interviews, not a single doubt in her mind that he was innocent as he sobbed into his hands throughout.
The date and the relative location in the same City that Alison Hughes was headed were the only tentative connection to either Mica Wise or Leah Davis disappearance. And it was tentative at best. Callaghan should know better than to rely on hunches, which never rang true. Her career to date rather than her training led her to know better, despite every base instinct, something and she had no idea what seemed to link Alison Hughes to her investigation. If only for the fact that like Leah and Mica she was an incredibly attractive young woman. Brown hair, brown eyes, on a rudimentary level was that Alex Russel's thing, his preference?
There was no need for Alison Hughes an otherwise happy, content, engaged to be married woman to just inexplicably vanish. It could be no coincidence that she disappeared at the same time as two other women from the same City.
Detective Inspector Rose Callaghan knew the truth about these girls was out there. She feared, as was rumoured, the potential of a serial killer but in the lack of clear verifiable evidence she knew to avoid such scaremongering and speculation. Equally there had been no subsequently reported disappearances, not locally at least, for six whole months.
Callaghan sat back down at her desk. The photos of the three girls stared up at her, haunting her but equally perversely taunting her. She rubbed her fingers over her temples.
She should go home. She could go home but she wouldn't rest, she wouldn't switch off. Not properly. Not until she knew the truth.
**********
Things were going great.
Sat there on the sofa I watch the television as Sarah lays across my chest. The familiar pose for not just a Friday evening but near enough every evening of the week.
Sat between us and the TV on the coffee table teasing me is a slightly ajar Pizza box which I know contains a half-eaten chicken, bacon, sweet corn BBQ base thin crust Pizza. I near salivate but I don't move as I don't want to disturb Sarah. I'm content enough I figure, a fourth slice, despite the hunger pangs could be considered unhealthy. Although the Carbs might be a worthy investment. I need every bit of energy for the whirlwind who's sound asleep in the single bed upstairs. Young Grace.
Bernadette had dropped her off just after I'd gotten home from work. Another week of selling online advertising in a stuffy little call centre. It paid well though and somehow, with no prior experience I was excelling. Doubling my weekly wage with commission payments. I'd only been there three months but already promotion was being discussed. Jack Hughes, Desk Based Regional Sales Manager; the job title sounded a little ugly, but the associated pay rise sounded very attractive.
I genuinely looked forward to my time with Grace though, she'd been so excited going to bed earlier on the promise of a trip to the Zoo tomorrow. The hour before bed spent conscientiously scribbling pictures of all the animals she wanted to see; I'd had to break it very gently to her though that they had no Unicorns at this particular Zoo.
