‘The police were checking this morning. I suppose she wouldn’t have been able to get that far so quickly, even with money for the train fare. But hopefully her dad will keep the police updated.’
‘Or hopefully he won’t,’ Matt murmurs. ‘That kid deserves some space. And a chance to make her own decisions. If that translates as her trying to make it work with her dad without social services meddling, then I think she should be allowed to – whether the state thinks he’s a fit parent or not. They don’t always get it right.’
I look away, tip the ice-cold drink down my throat.
You don’t always get it right.
That’s what Matt is really saying.
And perhaps he’s got a point.
Email from DI Finnemore (SIO) to Det Supt Bishop
Subject: Sunday 12th May update
Sir,
Victim’s sister – Jessica Scott – was reported missing yesterday morning by her social worker, Colleen Byrne. She went to bed as normal on Friday night but was not there when her foster carer checked at approx. 08.30. Missing person investigation has been opened by the area team – but we’re pooling info and resources as the cases are so closely linked.
Property searched. No sign of forced entry, or of a struggle. No window open in Jessica’s bedroom. Assumed she left the property of her own accord. Small rucksack missing. Possibly some clothes as well but foster carers were unable to confirm. Most of her belongings remain. No sign of phone, but records show it hasn’t been used since Friday night. All usual checks (hospitals, known acquaintances, etc.) have proved unsuccessful so far. CCTV footage being collected today. Open mind about third party involvement at this stage – but Caden Carter clearly not involved as he was in police custody. Will keep you updated.
Caden Carter was released on police bail with strict conditions yesterday evening. Interviews were going nowhere, and CPS want answers to forensic anomalies before they’ll consider charging him so that’s our focus for now. Also, between you and me, I am conflicted. He has stuck to his story without any of the usual lying tells. Hard to believe that Amber saw two different people in such a remote location, but not impossible. And the multiple blood samples support that theory. She was an active user of Snapchat so theoretically her location could have been known to all her followers via the map function. Am trying to get more data but you know social media companies and their f**king privacy obsession.
I think I mentioned a lead that Colleen Byrne gave us after Amber’s body was found. Raj has been looking into this. About a year ago, Amber was roughed up by an older boy with query gang affiliations while at their last foster home. This is what prompted the girls’ move. But the threat was actually aimed at her sister, Jess, and all indications so far are that the girls have completely disengaged from their old life, so this remains a low priority line of inquiry. However, Raj is tracking down the male involved (now 19 years old) to question him.
Also, I was looking through witness statements again last night. There was an eighteenth birthday party in Chinnor the night of the murder, and the mother of the host was interviewed. Two children had taken ecstasy, which we discovered was supplied by the victim and the team understandably focused on that. But I noticed that Mrs Ainsworth (the host’s mother) also mentioned that she saw Mr Rose – Lucy’s father – in his car when she was taking some bottles to her recycling box at the front of her house at about 00.45. He asked if the party was over, she confirmed that it was, and he drove away. But Mrs Rose told me that her husband was fast asleep when she got home at 22.45.
I have asked DC Williams to check all CCTV during the evening for his car specifically. I’m starting to wonder if that family aren’t as sweet and innocent as they look.
Simon
AFTER
Monday 13th May
Rachel
I roll onto my back and open my eyes. The darkness is almost absolute, but I can just make out the shadow of our glass pendant ceiling light above me. Its filament bulbs look like three black eyes, and I stare into them, willing them to bring me some clarity. But there’s nothing, so I turn onto my side, away from Matt, and look at my watch on its stand instead: 04.47 in loud fluorescent green.
Of course I wasn’t going to sleep well after the Sunday I had. Or Sunday afternoon to be exact, because the day started quite well. Milla offered to come to Waitrose with me, which must be a first, and it gave me a chance to ask her about Friday night. While she didn’t exactly shower me with details, after a little encouragement, she did explain what happened.
And it turns out Matt was right. It was Felix that Milla was hiding from. And that led to a conversation about why they split up in the first place. Quietly, without making eye contact, Milla told me that Felix had admitted to cheating on her. She didn’t know who with, and he promised her that it was over. But she wanted out. And once she got over the initial shock, she found that she liked being single again.
Unlike Felix, who just got more desperate to get her back. Milla was starting to entertain the possibility of a reconciliation when she came across him snogging someone behind one of the derelict carriages on Friday night. In the darkness, Milla couldn’t make out who it was, so the girl’s identity remains a mystery. But he’d lied, and she almost fell for it; and that hurt a lot. I explained this all to Matt when I got home from the supermarket, how he’d guessed right. I thought he’d be relieved, but he didn’t react one way or the other.
I tried to make lunch feel normal. Cooked a roast lamb with new potatoes, spring vegetables and home-made mint sauce. Even convinced Matt to open a bottle of Pinot Noir. Milla did her bit – telling us about the revision schedule she’d devised for her study leave – but Lucy was mute, Matt grim-faced, and my own conversation was stilted as I tried not to mention Amber Walsh, Jess Scott, blackmail, bullying, drugs, dead badgers, violent mechanics or blood-smeared bluebells.
And then Charlotte’s message popped up on my phone.
Have you heard the news?
Wainwrights told this morning.
Suspect in custody has been released.
I didn’t go back to her. Perhaps I should have done, to keep up the pretence of being a gossip fiend like everyone else in the village. But I didn’t have the strength for more bad news, so I turned my phone off completely, and stacked the plates in the dishwasher with so much gusto that one of them smashed. When the landline rang a few hours later, I chose to let it ring out, but I couldn’t completely leave my head in the sand because, when I saw the red light flashing, I listened to the voicemail.
It was DC Bzowski. As soon as I heard her voice, the memory of Lucy’s interview sprang into my mind, making my chest tighten. But the message wasn’t for me, or Lucy. The detective was asking for Matt to call her. She didn’t say anything more, but that didn’t stop my mind racing.
My dad will kill you.
Was she calling about the note? Had Jess got it to them somehow before running away? Or maybe she dropped it, and the police have come across it. It was typed rather than handwritten, but with the link to Lucy, maybe it would have been easy for the police to work out which dad the note was referring to.
I couldn’t settle after that, or bring myself to tell Matt about the message, so I picked up my car keys, muttered something about going out for fuel, and escaped the house.
I had nowhere to go, but I took the main road out of the village towards Kingston Blount. I kept my eyes focused on the tarmac as I passed Kiln Lakes, but just beyond them, in the open fields, I saw a flash of something in the corner my eye. A sight that made me retch.
There were at least a dozen police officers. Eyes down, walking slowly across the fields beyond the lake. And there could only have been one reason they were there. The police must think Jess has been harmed otherwise why would they be searching in the undergrowth? And so close to where Milla left the ransom money. Matt said Jess came from those fields but left in the other direction, so they’re looking in the wrong place. But of course Matt can’t explain that to the police.
My dad will kill you.
Just like Lucy can’t admit to seeing Amber on the night she died.
I wish she was dead.
My phone moves past 05.00 and I decide that’s close enough to morning to get up. I push back the duvet, shuffle out of bed, and creep from the room. As I wait for the kettle to boil, I stare into the garden – dawn sneaking its way over the fir trees – and try to make sense of what’s happened over the last ten days. How my family has become so entwined in another family’s trauma.
Except it’s not ten days, I realise as I pour steaming water into my mug and watch the teabag balloon then settle. It began last autumn when Amber and Jess initiated their bullying campaign. Lucy did nothing to provoke them, not at the start or later. But for over six months they wouldn’t leave her alone. If anything, their bullying escalated over the period. All I could think about was stopping it, so I never put any energy into understanding why they did it in the first place.
I lean against the kitchen counter, sip my tea, and realise what I need to do.
It’s half past six when I arrive at my office. I washed in the kitchen sink at home, and chose clothes from the laundry pile to avoid going back upstairs, so I look a mess. But luckily the place is deserted. The cleaners have been – they work overnight – and there’s a strong smell of furniture polish in the air. I drop into my chair, plug my laptop into the cable curled around my stand, and open up the client database. During the car journey here, I promised myself that I wouldn’t pause. That I mustn’t give myself an opportunity to change my mind. But as I stare at the search function, my fingers hover over the keyboard.
We only have one database in Children’s Services, and of course I have access to it – I’m one of the team’s most senior employees. At any point during this whole messy time, I could have logged in, brought up Amber’s and Jess’s file, and found out everything about them. But I have been doing this job for twenty-five years, and reading the details of cases you’re not involved in just isn’t done. It goes against the principles that have etched their way into my skin over the last two and a half decades.
But this is exactly what I came to do this morning, so I need to stop pretending that I’m grappling with my conscience and get on with it.
I type Amber Walsh and click into her file. It’s all there. Her mother being killed by her abusive partner when Amber was 6 years old. The series of short-term foster carers who looked after her while something more permanent was set in place. The move to Littlemore, a neighbourhood south of Oxford’s city centre, with her sister Jessica a year later. And then to Chinnor in July 2023 due to “safety concerns” which all fits with what Colleen told me.
But then I notice the secondary school that Amber attended for a year before she moved, and I feel blood drain from my face. I lean back for a moment, close my eyes. I think about the dead badger and wonder whether the council removed it like they promised Matt.
Whether it exists at all.
Then, very slowly, as though there’s tonne of pressure against my chest, I lean forward again. I crawl my fingers across the keyboard until Jess’s file appears and, with a final push of inner strength, I press open and watch the information expand on my screen.
TWO YEARS, TWO MONTHS BEFORE
