Her birth mother, Shanelle Harvey, lived in a run-down block of flats in Maidstone. Sanderson had visited some rough places in her time, but Taplow Towers really was an armpit—bursting with sink estate mums and blokes on day release. Sanderson’s mood plummeted as she surveyed the large penis spray-painted on Shanelle Harvey’s front door.
Footsteps, then the front door opened a sliver, the chain firmly on.
“DC Sanderson, could I have a word?”
Shanelle Harvey looked at her visitor, cleared her throat unpleasantly (the result landing close to Sanderson’s left foot) before reluctantly opening the door.
***
Inside was worse than out. A sea of cardboard boxes, probably full of knockoff gear, littered the place. There was little room for the usual decoration of a family home. In fact, the only ornaments Sanderson could see were ashtrays, overflowing with the butt ends of hundreds of unbranded cigarettes. The place stank of stale smoke—Sanderson would gladly have opened a window, if she could get to one.
“Nothing to do with me.”
Shanelle was quick to deny any involvement in Ruby’s disappearance.
“But you don’t deny having had contact with her recently?”
“Might have done.”
Shanelle had the weary experience of a professional chancer, determined not to admit responsibility for anything.
“We can check your phone records, Shanelle, so let’s cut the bullshit, shall we?” Sanderson continued.
“Okay. I seen her on and off for the last two years. She used to like coming here. I’m a bit less stuck-up than the other lot.”
“Her parents?”
“If that’s what they like to call themselves. Always on at her, they were, telling her what to do, how to be. It’s no way to live.”
“And this is?” Sanderson responded.
“Yeah, it’s easy to look down your nose at me, but at least I let her be,” Shanelle spat back. “Instead of coming round here pointing the finger, why don’t you askhimabout it?”
“Who?”
“Her ‘dad.’”
“Why would Mr. Sprackling know anything about it?”
“Got a temper on him. Likes to get his own way. Doesn’t like naughty little girls. He used to get very... cross with Ruby.”
Sanderson said nothing.
“He came round here once. Called me all sorts, threatened to take my head off. I stood my ground, but I don’t mind telling you I was bricking it. I was alone, I didn’t have anything to hand, nothing to stop him...”
“So what happened?”
“Neighbor came out. Told us to keep the noise down. He didn’t like that. Didn’t like being caught somewhere like this. I don’t think he’d told his wife he was coming.”
This was said gleefully, retrospectively enjoying his discomfort.
“So, why don’t you askhimabout Ruby? Ask him what he wanted to do to the little girl that turned on him?”
Sanderson was irritated by Shanelle, but also disquieted. Most disappearances were the products of domestic disharmony, and Sanderson knew there was no reason why this should be any different. CouldJonathan Sprackling be involved? Could he be punishing her for disloyalty and disobedience?
“Have you seen Ruby in the last week?”
“No. Last time was about a month ago.”
