‘He’s not there, but his wife needs speaking to. She’s reported her daughter missing, it’s not the first time she’s done a bunk. Fill in the MISPER forms, give reassurance, then do the usual follow-ups … Noble, are you there?’
And to think she’d been worried about not having enough to do. ‘Yes, Sarge,’ she breathed into the phone. She would have to reschedule her other appointments, do a bit of juggling. Sergeant Bassett was still talking. ‘I can’t spare anyone else right now, and she’s insisting on a detective, so pull out all the stops. The kid’s name is Angelica. I’m sending through a photo. She went out last night and never came home.’
Sarah powered up her laptop as she sat in the car. The morning’s visits to Maggie and Elsie had sucked the energy out of her. She opened her emails, clicked on the attachment and Angelica’s image filled the screen. She appeared to be in fancy dress, complete with tinsel halo and wings. With her white-blonde hair and clear blue eyes, she looked like … ‘An angel,’ Sarah whispered. A trail of shivers danced down her spine as Elliott’s words came to play …the Midnight Man is coming…the angel is dead.
11
As Sarah approached the gated community of Slayton Crest, she was grateful she was driving the job Ford Focus, instead of her battered red Mini. With their well-kept lawns and perfectly trimmed bushes, these exclusive communities wouldn’t look out of place in LA. Some even had swimming pools, dotted with exotic trees. But they could not buy the weather, and Sarah flipped her windscreen wipers as a speckle of rain came down.
Manoeuvring the car up to the red-brick gateposts, Sarah identified herself to the CCTV camera, which was operated remotely. The black electric gates rolled back on their runners, allowing her access. This was a place where every move was monitored, and apart from the occasional domestic incident, police were rarely needed inside. There were standards to be kept and rules written into the deeds of each property. In Slayton Crest, your house was not your own. Despite the hefty price tag, homeowners were expected to keep their properties uniform in design. There were no caravans on the drives of the lavish properties, no exterior home improvements allowed, and pets were limited to one per household. Unlike in Lower Slayton, there were no signs of children or dogs on the streets. People didn’t pop next door for a cup of sugar. In Slayton Crest, privacy was everything and the most you could hope for was a wave from across the exclusive street.
She drew up outside the two-million-pound property, the biggest on the close. It was perched at the end with stunning views of the back of the woodlands surrounding Blackhall Manor. This house was the home of local entrepreneur, Simon Irving. He was a bit too flashy white teeth and fake tan for Sarah’s liking. Sarah parked next to his manicured front lawn and walked past the expensive-looking Range Rover on their drive. It was most likely a status symbol, used for the school run.
The front door was opened immediately by a woman that Sarah recognised as Mrs Irving, and Sarah was ushered into the family living room. The scent of oranges and jasmine was a distinct improvement on the Febreze that Sarah sprayed on her sofa once a week to chase away the smell of cat. Claudia Irving sat before her, playing with a long gold chain around her neck. Her fingers were dazzling with diamonds, her forehead no stranger to Botox, by the look of it. Not that Sarah was judging. She could do with a few jabs herself.
She had seen pictures of Claudia in the local paper as she attended various business events and charity dos. She obviously didn’t know who Sarah was, or what her husband had done. If she did, she probably wouldn’t have let her inside the door. Today, Claudia appeared elegant, if a little tired. Claudia gestured for Sarah to sit down. The chairs were velvet with gold trim, and Sarah perched on the edge, her feet crossed beneath her. Claudia sat, resting her hands on her lap before reaching for her necklace again. Sarah worked through the online MISPER forms, gaining as much information as she could.
‘Angelica lied about staying overnight at her friend’s house, is that right?’
Claudia responded with a nod. ‘I usually ring to check where she’s staying but I dropped her off at Jennifer’s at seven to go trick-or-treating and saw her mum there. When Angelica texted me later to say she was staying over, I had no reason to doubt her.’ There was a pause. A flash of self-recrimination. ‘I should have checked.’
‘You weren’t to know,’ Sarah said. But as they worked through the online forms, Claudia seemed to shrink into herself.
‘So many questions,’ she murmured. ‘What she was wearing, her last meal …’ She paused. ‘Why do you need to know what she ate?’
Sarah avoided answering the question. Such information was needed in case there was a post-mortem and stomach contents were examined. Not all bodies found were identifiable. She suppressed a shudder as Elliott’s words whispered in her thoughts.The angel is dead.All morning, it had tugged on her periphery. Why was she letting the words of a seven-year-old child affect her like this? Yet the sense of foreboding would not let up.
Sarah skimmed previous reports as they came through on her laptop. The records consisted of calls from the Irving address, recorded for officers to read and updated by control while the incident remained ongoing. Three incidents were logged on the police system from within the last year, all of them concerning Angelica Irving.
‘Has Angelica ever stayed out overnight before?’
‘No, she’s never stayed out this long. The latest she’s come home is one or two in the morning. And I know …’ Claudia raised a manicured hand, ‘it’s bad parenting on my behalf. Angelica’s only fifteen. But I’ve done everything in my power to safeguard her … apart from locking her in her room.’
Sarah lifted her head from her laptop as Claudia emitted a loud, tearless sob. It was so theatrical, Sarah wondered if it was genuine, then immediately felt guilty. The truth was, if thisdidescalate, Angelica’s parents would be of interest to the police. Sometimes accidents happened. Sometimes people died, andsometimespeople did everything in their power to cover it up.
‘I’ve got a bad feeling.’ Claudia snatched a tissue from a box on the coffee table next to her chair. ‘I’m her mother … I just know something’s happened to my girl.’
‘It’s not unusual for children of Angelica’s age to go missing,’ Sarah said, trying to offer reassurance. ‘Especially during Halloween. Teenagers dare each other to spend the night in graveyards, or they go drinking and sleep in. It could be that she’s staying with a friend you don’t know about.’
‘But why isn’t she answering her phone?’ Claudia carefully dabbed at her eyes.
‘She could have turned it off,’ Sarah replied, but her words felt hollow. Claudia had every right to be concerned. She lowered her head as she completed the paperwork. It wouldn’t do to worry the mother at this early stage. She checked off the list of friends Claudia had handed her. ‘Have you called all these numbers?’
‘Yes,’ Claudia said. ‘It’s all over social media too.’
‘What about the Find My Friends app, have you got it on your phone?’ It was handy for keeping track of family friends and loved ones, although in Sarah’s experience, domineering spouses made good use of it too.
‘I installed it, but she turned it off on her phone.’
Sarah glanced through her paperwork. ‘And there were no family arguments recently … she wouldn’t have run away?’
Rising from her chair, Claudia walked to the rain-speckled window. ‘Never. Her clothes, her purse, and all her things are still in her room. I checked her online banking. Her account hasn’t been touched.’
Sarah was aware of that, although it was very early days. She also knew from previous reports that Angelica’s grades were slipping. She may have disappeared for attention. Her parents’ busy social lives took them away from home a lot. Or it could be that she was vulnerable, picked on by a predator who had gained her trust.
Sarah swallowed. Her throat was as dry as dust. It was coming up to lunchtime and she hadn’t eaten a thing. Her stomach rumbled in confirmation. It was quite a shock for her system to go without food for so long and the beginnings of a headache made itself known. At home, cups of tea and toasted Warburtons crumpets had been on tap. Her visit to Elsie might have put an end to that.
‘This is meant to be a safe community.’ Claudia’s voice was thin with worry as she stared out the window. ‘So why doesn’t anyone know where she is?’ But she was asking the wrong person, given that her husband was the one who penned the Upper Slayton slogan ‘Choose safety for your family’. In Sarah’s experience, complete safety was a promise that nobody could offer. Where was he, anyway?
