CHAPTER TWO
At seven forty-five on Friday morning, Karen Hart got out of the shower after another sleepless night. She wrapped herself in a towel and ran a hand through her short, dark hair. Despite taking the same route from the bathroom to the bedroom every day for years, today she managed to stub her toe on the bathroom cabinet.
A string of curse words left her lips and she put a fist to her mouth to smother them. She limped down the hallway to the bedroom with gritted teeth.
She had just finished buttoning her blouse when her mobile phone rang. She snatched it up from the nightstand.
‘DS Karen Hart.’
There was a pause and then, ‘Karen? Is everything all right?’
It was her boss, DI Scott Morgan. She wasn’t surprised at the concern in his voice. She knew she sounded angry, and her bad temper wasn’t only down to the pain in her foot.
It was now October, and despite efforts by Internal Affairs, DI Freeman still hadn’t been charged over his involvement with the Cooks, a local family who’d been trafficking vulnerable people. Every day, Karen tried and failed to put the matter behind her. The idea that Freeman might get away with everything he’d done was sickening, and Karen’s fury made it hard to concentrate on anything else.
‘I’m fine. I just stubbed my toe coming out of the bathroom. What is it?’
‘Two missing kids,’ he said, pausing to let his words sink in.
‘Again?’ Karen’s grip tightened on the phone. A previous investigation, when two schoolgirls went missing in Heighington, was still fresh in her mind. It had been the first important case they’d worked on together.
If there was one thing guaranteed to take her mind off her own problems, it was working on a time-sensitive case. She didn’t know where she’d be without her work and the rest of her team.
‘This one’s different. They’re seventeen-year-old, female A-level students. They attend Markham but have been taking part in an intensive study week at Chidlow House, in Harmston.’
Karen grabbed her suit jacket and left the bedroom with her phone tucked between her chin and shoulder. ‘How long have they been missing?’
‘No one’s sure. One of the other students saw them leaving at nine p.m. last night, and no one saw them return. Their absence was only noticed when they didn’t turn up for breakfast this morning.’
Karen frowned as she made her way downstairs. ‘And we’re already on the case?’
‘Yes, the superintendent called me directly. She wants us to act quickly on this one.’
‘I understand,’ Karen said. But she didn’t understand, not really.
Two teenagers sneaking out at night wasn’t unusual. The fact they hadn’t returned was worrying, but it wasn’t yet eight a.m. Not much time had passed since it was noticed the girls were missing. Karen liked to think her team was conscientious and quick to act in cases like this, but that was pretty fast even for them. What was behind this eager response? Were either of the girls known to be a high-risk target for abduction? Children of diplomats and heirs to foreign thrones were known to attend Markham School for Young Ladies.
Karen shook her head. The school sounded like a relic from a previous century!
‘They could have gone to a party, stayed out all night and crashed at a friend’s house,’ Morgan suggested. ‘With any luck they’ll turn up soon looking sheepish.’
‘But the super wants us to investigate straightaway? Talk to the parents, check local CCTV?’
‘Actually, she wants us to get to Chidlow House ASAP. There’s a lot of pressure on this case.’
‘Why?’
‘I’m not sure yet, but I’m sure we’ll soon find out.’
Karen marched through the kitchen looking for her handbag and eyeing the coffee machine sadly. She wouldn’t have time to get her usual fix before leaving today.
‘I take it the parents have been informed and the youngsters haven’t just got sick of studying and gone back home?’
‘Correct. Both sets of parents are coming to Harmston. They live locally so they might be there before us.’
‘All right, I’ll meet you there.’
After she hung up, Karen grabbed her bag and car keys and headed for the door, hoping this was a case where she could really make a difference. She needed something to get her teeth into and to take her mind off the failing investigation into DI Freeman’s corruption.
She returned her neighbour’s wave before getting into her Honda Civic, but didn’t pause for a chat. She was growing tired of explaining to Christine that there were no new updates on the corruption investigation and of seeing her own disappointment mirrored on her friend’s face.
A few months ago, the team had come across a criminal network paying off members of Lincolnshire Police. Although two traffic officers had been kicked off the force for their role in bungling the investigation into the accident that had killed Karen’s husband and daughter, their informant had also named DI Freeman, an officer who Karen had been very close to and trusted, as the man behind the cover-up. He had been taken off active duty but hadn’t been punished in any other way. It was bad enough that he wasn’t behind bars; the idea of him returning to active duty made Karen furious.
Last month, Karen had made an appointment with the assistant chief constable, Kenneth Fry, to ask that he pay particular attention to the case. But he hadn’t seemed particularly responsive. Though his face was a mask of pity as they talked, Karen couldn’t help thinking he was putting it on. His sympathy was an act, and not a particularly good one. All he really wanted was to make the right noises, tick the correct boxes and get Karen out of his office.
During the meeting, Karen had calmly stated her case, but the ACC hadn’t seemed interested, and when she’d pushed him, asking for actions rather than words, his faux sympathy had slid away, revealing his irritation.
‘I can assure you, DS Hart, that procedures are in place and followed to the letter,’ Fry had said. ‘We can’t simply take the word of a criminal informant against one of our officers, who I might add has never made a single misstep in the past. How would you like it if an accusation was levelled at you and we acted before a thorough investigation?’
Karen had only just managed to keep her temper. ‘I’m not asking you to act without one. I’m asking you to make sure there is one.’
‘I realise you have suffered a terrible tragedy, but this is starting to feel like a witch hunt against DI Freeman, which I can’t condone. I know it’s extremely difficult for you, but I must ask you to be patient while we conduct the inquiry.’
Patient! It had been months and they seemed to be no further on.
The superintendent had been kind enough to keep Karen updated, but there weren’t many updates to be had. As time drew on, she began to feel that DI Freeman was going to get away with his part in covering up the story behind her husband and daughter’s deaths, and it made her blood boil.
The rain hammered down as Karen drove into Harmston. The small village sat on the Lincoln Cliff. Though Lincolnshire was well known as a flat county, it certainly had a few steep hills scattered here and there.
Wet brown and yellow leaves carpeted the sides of the road, impairing drainage, and the heavy rain made it hard to see more than a few feet ahead. The windscreen wipers clunked rhythmically from side to side. She was impatient to get there but knew in this weather she had to take it slowly.