‘That was bloody awful,’ Dawn said as they left Janice with the Hinds and walked out onto the street.
‘Horrendous. It’s not looking good is it?’ Dylan said shaking his head. His eyes were downcast, his hands in his coat pockets as they strode out into the freezing night air. ‘Some bastard took a big risk and got away with it. She could be anywhere. We’ll have to be sure she isn’t still round here first. I want every corner of this area searched before we move on.’
In each house searched, the officers would have to look into every possible place a young girl could hide or be hidden. This would include suitcases, cupboards, drawers, and boxes. There were thirty-five houses to search in the immediate area, Dylan was told. Nothing would be left to chance. As well as the searches, direct enquiries were being carried out of the registered sex offenders living in and around Tandem Bridge. There were sixteen. Each and every one would be subjected to interrogation and their flats, houses, or wherever they lived would be searched. This would hopefully be by consent, but if not, then there would be a warrant requested. Nothing would stand in the way of this little girl being found. Daisy’s friends would be contacted to see if she’d spoken to them. It was a priority line of enquiry for Dylan. Daisy went to Tandem Bridge Middle School, as did the majority of children in the area.
It was now the early hours of the morning. Wendy and Trevor looked pale, numb with shock, their faces etched in pain. They kept asking if they could do something, anything, to help. All they knew was that their little girl, their only child, was gone. A few hours before excitement had filled the very room they were in. Trying on that bridesmaid dress was a long-awaited dream come true for Daisy.
‘Where is she? I need to know where she is. Daisy has never been out at this time of night before. She’ll be so frightened. She’ll need me.’ It was going to be a very long, painful night for them, and they wouldn’t sleep, they couldn’t. The search team would continue through the night. There was now a large police presence in the area, which would remain sealed. Although Dylan and Dawn were now going home for a few hours, they would be back at first light, when the briefing of more officers would take place. Daisy needed to be found, and quickly.
Dylan didn’t even remember the drive to Jen’s house. Unlocking the door as quietly as he could, he found Jen’s golden retriever, Max, was waiting in the hallway. Dylan mumbled a hello to him through his swollen lips and Max’s tail swished the walls. The dog was always pleased to see him.
Sanctuary,
thought Dylan, as he slipped into bed next to Jen’s warm body. She stirred.
‘I’m knackered. Love you, Miss Jones,’ he said sleepily as he rested his head on the pillow next to Jen as gently as he could so as not to wake her. He drifted into a deep sleep, waking intermittently either due to the pain from his lip or thoughts of Daisy and whatever evil bastard had taken her.
Chapter Three
At 6.20 a.m., just over twelve hours after Daisy had been reported missing, the police received a 999 call from a distressed lady who had been walking her dog on wasteland near to Dean Reservoir, approximately seven miles from Daisy’s home.
‘Please help. I’ve just seen what looks like a child’s body. I’m sorry I can’t go any nearer, could you send someone please? Quickly.’
A police car arrived at the location within six minutes. There was a biting wind. Mrs Day stood on the open moorland, bewildered, pale and shaken, with her mobile phone still in her hand. She was a smart lady of about forty years, dressed for the weather in boots, jeans, and an anorak. Nearby was her red Mini Cooper. Inside the car was her liver and white Springer spaniel.
‘I had to put Belle in the car. She wouldn’t stop barking, that’s why I walked towards … it,’ she told the officers. ‘But …I … couldn’t. I’m sorry. It made me feel sick.’ She held her hand to her throat, a hankie grasped firmly in her hand. She was visibly shaking. The older officer placed an arm around her shoulders.
‘Mrs Day, you’ve done really well just ringing in. Are you sure you’re okay? Do you need a doctor?’
‘No, no thank you, love. It’s, it’s just such a shock, you know?’ She shivered.
The officer guided her to her vehicle where he sat her in the driver’s side, then he retreated to the passenger seat. Speaking to her gently he took notes in his pocket book as he asked her where she had walked and where she had seen what she thought was a body.
She pointed. ‘Just over there. If you walk straight forward you’ll see it for yourself.’
The younger officer followed the route Mrs Day indicated. Some twenty-five yards ahead, away from the road, he saw it.
The body was face down and had a blue plastic bag secured over its head. He immediately contacted the control room and then checked the body for a pulse. There were no signs of life. Using his radio he requested the attendance of paramedics on the off chance anything could be done, but deep down he knew it was futile. They could at least make the pronouncement of life extinct. He called for the attendance of senior CID and uniform supervision. Using blue and white crime scene tape, he started to create a line from the roadway to the body, indicating the pathway Mrs Day had taken. He wrapped the tape around trees to begin sealing off the area, preserving it for a later search.
The officers would record what they had done and why: they had no doubt it was a murder. CID arrived and a detective swapped places with the uniform officer to sit with Mrs Day. He told her that an ambulance was en route.
‘I’d only been parked about two or three minutes when Belle started barking continually at one spot, which is so out of character for her. I looked to the place where she was yapping, saw it, and dialled 999,’ Mrs Day told him.
Seated in the security and quietness of Mrs Day’s car, the two watched the paramedics arrive. They saw the negative nods of their heads and they watched as the paramedics retreated from the scene.
‘Are you sure you’re okay to drive?’ asked the detective. ‘We’ll visit you later at home to take a statement if that’s okay with you.’
‘Oh, I’ll be fine. Thank you. You’ve enough to do here. I’ll see you later,’ Mrs Day said.
Dylan’s mobile and pager awoke him as they danced a duet on his bedside table. His face ached. As he yawned his lips cracked and flaked like old paint on dead wood. He picked up his phone. A bright, sharp, wide-awake voice on the other end spoke.
‘Detective Sergeant Dawn Farren asked me to contact you, sir. I’ll ring you back in a few minutes to give you chance to come round, shall I?’ Before he could speak, the caller hung up. Jen had gone into autopilot, so accustomed to the routine when he got called out and their sleep was disturbed. He smiled inwardly as he got a glimpse of her naked body before she covered it with her dressing gown. She turned as she switched on the big light, looked at him, froze, and then said, ‘Oh my god, Jack, what’s happened?’ She burst into tears as she rushed to his side of the bed. ‘Just tell me that one day you’ll walk away from it all,’ she begged, holding him so tight her knuckles were white.
‘Don’t worry, love, nothing will ever come between us. Definitely not the job. I love you, Miss Jones,’ he slurred, trying to stretch his mouth open as he reassuringly stroked her hair.
Jennifer Jones worked at Harrowfield HQ in the admin department, which is where their eyes had first met. Their hands had accidentally touched putting the post in their pigeonholes. Passing the coffee cups had brought about electricity that he couldn’t ignore. He was like a lovesick teenager and he knew it when he began changing his routine just to catch a glimpse of her. He’d asked about her discreetly, but no one seemed to know much about Miss Jones other than that she lived alone. What he did know was that she was a stunner, and he wanted to know more. No one had guessed about the relationship so far, which was a miracle in the police force, but that’s the way he liked it.
Let’s face it,
Dylan thought,
my life is sweet F.A. to do with anyone else.
Dylan told Jen he wanted to protect her. To be honest he didn’t know if that was his real reason, but he did know that he stood on a lot of toes in both the criminal world and at the police station, and he didn’t want her to bear the brunt of any backlash he may have coming to him. There’d been a few close calls, but for now their secret was safe. His thoughts were interrupted by the shrill of the phone.
‘Don’t think you’re going anywhere without telling me what’s happened,’ she said, waving a finger at him now the initial shock was over. Jen moved swiftly. As he watched, his suit, shirt and tie come out of the wardrobe in double quick time. Reaching for the pen and paper he always kept by the bed for occasions such as these, he caught sight of the digital clock. It was 06.50 a.m. He yawned and licked his swollen lips before speaking, but a sharp pain with a burning sensation caused him to gasp.
‘Hello, boss. Body found at Dean Reservoir a short time ago.’ Dylan listened and took notes. ‘DS Farren wants you to meet her at Harrowfield nick.’
Jen placed a steaming cup quietly beside him on the bedside table and planted a kiss on the top of his head. He took a sip of the coffee. ‘Shit,’ he squealed as the cup stuck to his lip.
‘Pardon sir?’
‘Yeah, tell her I’ll be there ASAP.’
He dressed quickly. Dylan had basically moved in with Jen although he’d kept his flat on at HQ Training Centre for appearances’ sake.
‘Don’t worry, love, the idiot who did it is locked up,’ he said as he picked up his briefcase. ‘I’ll ring you when I know what’s happening.’ With that he gave her a hug as he flew out of the door. She watched the lights on his car as he reversed out of the driveway. She sighed. It depressed her to see what the job did to him. No sleep, a busted lip and not knowing what horrendous sight was awaiting him: that was just for starters today.
Dylan and Dawn travelled in his car to Dean Reservoir. He travelled the road often, as did his fellow workers, because it was a short cut between Harrowfield nick and Tandem Bridge Station. The blustery winds made it feel cold and the clouds were grey and heavy, threatening rain. However Dylan was pleased that the traffic was surprisingly light.
‘Can we have the helicopter up, to attend the scene for an eye in the sky view and aerial photographs, please?’ Dawn asked the officer in the control room via the radio. ‘A body tent and windbreaks would be good too. They’ll need to be the sturdy ones. The wind’s really picking up here.’
’I’ll contact operational support and get back to you,’ came the crackling reply.
‘Fell walking isn’t my speciality, boss, and no way am I going to get my new boots covered in sheep shit,’ said Dawn looking down at them, horrified at the prospect.
‘You girl. I’ve got my wellies in the boot, but you’re not having them.’
‘You’ll just have to carry me, then, won’t you?’ she said cheekily.
‘Impossible,’ he remarked, laughing, which made his lips stretch tight and sting. ‘Ow,’ he said.
‘Serves you right.’
Dawn was married and had met her husband Ralph while they were still at school. She’d been a waitress and he’d been a trainee chef. Her Achilles’ heel was food, which she never apologised for. ‘You are what you eat,’ she would often say, ‘And boy, do I eat.’ Ralph was now the head chef and owner of a restaurant they’d named ‘
Mawingo’,
Swahili for ‘up in the clouds’, after a place they had visited on their honeymoon. It had far-reaching views across the Yorkshire countryside, and a fantastic reputation. She assured Ralph she didn’t love him for his culinary specialities, but it was a hell of a bonus.
Access to Dean Reservoir was difficult. Salters Road was a narrow, single track tarmac road with few passing places. It was littered with potholes and corroded edges, definitely not a road on which you could travel at speed.
‘I’m glad it’s your bloody car we came in,’ said Dawn as they bumped along the uneven surface. The road was on a slow incline to such a height that you could see over the historic village that lay below in the valley. They travelled up the hill and the road opened up to a huge expanse with long distance views of moorland. It was nice in summer, but in winter it was bleak, barren and uninviting. The hills in the distance were dark silhouettes touching the sky. The clouds rested on the ground and the trees beyond appeared to float as if suspended in the sky. It was an awesome sight. If it had been painted it would have looked unrealistic on canvas. To the left of the road was a coppice of trees; some evergreen, some bare, which shielded the reservoir ahead. The trees were bending as though exercising in the strong wind. There were no homesteads nearby. It was a lonely scene. As they travelled the desolate road a few sheep wandered around near to the walls. They could be seen huddled together in the distance, desperately trying to shelter from the elements, the only visible sign of life around. Dylan had ensured the road was closed off to all traffic where the outer cordon started. It would ensure that the Press with their marvellous zoom lenses could not get close enough to take photographs of the body. He knew once they heard about it they would be there like a shot.
‘Do you think it’s Daisy?’ Dawn asked.
Chapter Four
The wind roared across the moor, flattening the long grass and teasing the trees in its path. They stopped in the gravelled car park alongside the marked police vehicles. Dylan’s car door was almost ripped off its hinges as he opened it onto the rough open terrain. There were deep dark holes filled with bits of twig and clumps of heather underfoot. The crime scene tape flapped about like the tails of a kite in the wind. The weather could at any moment turn perishing, Dylan knew only too well. Outdoor clothing was a must. He was immediately impressed with how the first two uniformed officers at the scene had acted on their own initiative and made a mental note to send a report to their supervision to praise them.
Future CID material,
he thought to himself as he began clambering into his protective suit. Leaves curled and twisted, sweeping the ground around him.