Little Girl Lost (Detective Robyn Carter crime thriller series Book 1) Read online

  ‘The local newspaper said he had a heart attack. Is that correct?’

  ‘No, it was not the case. It was thought he might have had a heart attack but the coroner later ruled that out. Obviously, there was interest in the late Mr Matthews, given his past career, and the local press was a bit too quick off the mark, shall we say? The article went to press before the correct verdict was announced. Mr Matthews actually died in slightly unusual circumstances, or a freak accident, whatever you wish to call it. He tripped and fell badly, hitting his head against a tree which resulted in his death.’

  ‘Did you see the body?’ she asked. ‘I mean, before it was removed.’

  Sergeant Drayton cleared his throat. ‘I was on the scene within fifteen minutes. It was obvious Paul Matthews was dead. There was a significant amount of blood down the right-hand side of his head and temple and there were blood deposits on the tree next to where he had fallen. It was later confirmed that the blood on the tree bark matched that of Paul Matthews.’ He coughed to clear his throat once more. ‘On closer examination, I discovered both palms of his hands were grazed. There was a light powdery residue on both palms which we later discovered came from a birch tree he had grabbed in an attempt to prevent his fall. The coroner declared accidental death. It appeared Mr Matthews had been running over uneven ground and tripped on his own shoelace, falling forward heavily and banging his temple against another birch tree. The temporal artery was ruptured, resulting in immediate death.’

  ‘There was no evidence to point to suspicious circumstances, then?’

  Sergeant Drayton’s voice became offhand. ‘No, ma’am. I checked the area myself and there was nothing suspicious. The blood on the tree was a match for Mr Matthews’ blood – type B positive,’ he added. ‘There was no evidence of a third party present at the time of death, and the head injury itself contained particles of tree bark and powder consistent with a fall against a tree.’

  ‘Thank you, Sergeant Drayton. You’ve been most helpful.’

  ‘You’re welcome,’ he replied. ‘May I ask if you have reason to believe Mr Matthews died under suspicious circumstances?’

  ‘No. I haven’t. I am actually searching for his son, Lucas Matthews, who disappeared from his home just before this unfortunate accident, and I’m trying to establish any connection between the two events. It seemed logical to talk to the person who saw the late Paul Matthews at the scene of his death.’

  ‘I see.’

  ‘If you happen across Lucas Matthews in Uttoxeter please let me know. His wife is concerned about his disappearance. Details on him will be circulated to all stations and I’m in charge of the case, so give me a ring if you have anything.’

  Robyn tapped her fingernails against the desk – a staccato rhythm that quickly ended. An Internet search confirmed that three of the major bones forming the skull are joined at the temple. A forceful blow could cave in this junction of the skull causing death. It appeared the late Paul Matthews had suffered an unfortunate accident. Robyn shook her head. Some folk really had no luck at all.

  18

  Then

  That toffee-nosed Chloe Planter had it coming. The snidey cow is always surrounded by her adoring fans, laughing at those of us who don’t fit in.

  ‘Chloe, I love your hair like that.’

  ‘Chloe, do you want to come over to my place this weekend for a sleepover?’

  ‘Chloe, you played so well on Tuesday.’

  ‘Oh, Chloe…’ Until my brain screams at me and wants to shriek at them all and rip Chloe Planter’s hair out of her pretty little head and smash my fist into her perfect face. I hate her. Not because she is so perfect but because she’s one of those people who stirs things up then stands back with a smug expression, waiting for one of her hangers-on to take up the mission and ruin another kid’s life.

  I have been one of her prime targets ever since we moved here and I started at this school. I don’t think my reputation can have reached the school here or she wouldn’t have dared to single me out.

  It all began in the changing rooms. I dread doing sports. Not just because I am not one of nature’s athletes nor a team player but because the pre- and post-match routine of undressing in front of anyone, even chattering girls, sends me into one of my moods. I can’t abide undressing in front of anyone. I can feel their eyes ripping away the layers of clothes as if you’re peeling an onion and I know they’ll laugh once they see what is hidden under the baggy shirt and loose-fitting skirt. Then I don’t know what I’ll do. My mum used to write notes to keep me off sports but in the end, once the drink got hold of her and I had to shake her booze-addled body awake every morning, I began to fake her signature and write them myself. At my last school I had several bad colds, stomach aches, and a host of bizarre illnesses and mysterious rashes almost every week and I had to be excused games. The teachers must have realised I was not ill but I think they were relieved not to have me on any squad – poor specimen that I am. I would be a hindrance to any team.

  This secondary school was one of those modern-thinking places. The headmaster wears jeans and thinks he looks cool. He tries to ‘get down’ with the kids here but I see him for what he is. He doesn’t care about any of us. He only wants his school to gain a good reputation then he’ll get a new position at a top school where he’ll earn more money.

  Mum insisted we changed my name again. I’ve had three different names in the last four years. She’s really fed up with me this time. She didn’t want to move again. It wasn’t really my fault. If Danny Windsor and his horrible friend hadn’t trapped me in the corridor and tried to kiss me, it’d have been fine. Stupid Chris Edding put him up to it. Danny would never have kissed me if he hadn’t been dared. Who’d want to kiss someone like me? I’ve spent the last few years transforming into the world’s most unattractive girl. It’s a shame because I didn’t mind Danny. He’d been one of the only boys not to make any cruel comments about me. That day in the corridor, I had been on my way to English when Chris and Danny approached from the other direction. I didn’t think anything of it at first until I saw the sneer on Chris’s face. He nudged Danny with his elbow and muttered something. Danny grinned back. I was aware they were up to something because they looked around first to check it was clear and then converged towards me. Before I knew it they had pushed me against the wall and both were blocking me from escape. A panic rose in my chest. I could see the spittle fly from Chris’s mouth as he spoke to Danny, a look of triumph on his face.

  ‘Go on,’ urged Chris. ‘We dared you, remember. You can’t back out.’

  For a second, I just thought Danny was going to say something to me but he didn’t. He licked his lips and hesitated. A range of emotions crossed his face, including disgust. I could see he didn’t want to be near me. He disliked me as much as the other boys who called me a ‘skank’ and a ‘minger’. Chris whispered again.

  ‘Go on. You can do it. Kiss the ugly bitch.’

  My panic transformed into something else and I felt a familiar anger. Danny lowered his head towards me, his lips ready to lock on mine. The next moment he let out a howl, his head shot back and blood poured down his face, through his fingers and splodged down the front of his white school shirt.

  ‘Oh my God. You headbutted him! You’re mental,’ Chris shouted, dragging the bleeding Danny away. ‘She’s fucking mental,’ he repeated as a classroom door flew open and Mr Dobbs, the deputy head, hurtled out of his room like a greyhound out of a trap. I’ve never seen a grown man move so quickly. He grabbed me by the scruff of my neck, not that I intended going anywhere. I was calmly giving Chris the evil eye and enjoying the fear now evident in his eyes. He wouldn’t mess with me ever again. All the while I stared at him, poor Danny, covered in crimson blood, was groaning and crying at the same time.

  No one believed my version of what had occurred. That came as no surprise. Danny and Chris stuck to their story that they stopped me in the corridor to ask if I knew what the homework had been for Engli
sh and I had attacked them both for no good reason. I didn’t care when I was suspended. My mum did.

  ‘What is it with you?’ she screamed for the umpteenth time as she marched me to the bus stop. ‘Can’t you be nice to anyone? I’m sick of having to move every time you cause trouble.’

  I didn’t like to remind her that she was the reason we left the last village. Once it had got out about her entertaining men, some offended local daubed our door with the word ‘tart’ and she was shunned by just about everyone. In the end, she couldn’t stand the icy stares and verbal abuse so we upped and left to another area where she’s got work in a casino and where we live in a grotty flat over a kebab shop.

  We sat on the bus in silence. I stared out at the heavy, grey skies and watched the rain crying dirty tears down the filthy windows and wished I didn’t ever have to go to school again. I talked to Dad about it. He said it was a bummer and I’d done the right thing headbutting Danny. He’s usually sympathetic. He understands me so much better than my mum who was so cross I could almost feel her vibrating with anger. She’d head straight for her not-so-secret supply of vodka when we got back to the flat and would drown herself in an alcoholic haze, letting it numb the pain so she could forget she had bred a monster of a daughter. I, however, had nothing to numb my own pain.

  Back at the flat, I threw my schoolbag onto floor and slumped on the settee waiting to be reprimanded. It followed the same pattern as usual. She cried and asked the same questions: ‘Why had I ruined her life? Why couldn’t I just try for once? What had she done wrong to deserve this life?’ I couldn’t answer any of the questions. I let her rant. She stopped once the alcohol warmed her veins and took the edge off her anger. Then she began the all-too-familiar trip down memory lane, mumbling about when she was beautiful and desired by good-looking men. She always ended up reminiscing about Paul Matthews and how her life might have been so different if it hadn’t been snatched away from her by her own flesh and blood. At that point I usually zoned out. I knew she believed it was my fault that her life was in tatters but I knew differently and one day I would prove it to her.

  Her drinking was becoming more frequent and each time she was drunk she would blame me for the mess that was her life. I don’t headbutt other people as a rule but she had been forced to move twice before because of my antics. I can’t help it. It’s who I am. It’s who I’ve had to become to survive.

  * * *

  Now we were trying a new life in the south, far away from Danny and his parents who had threatened to have charges pressed against me until my mother went round and pleaded with them not to. I don’t know what she told them but that night she returned, face pinched and grey, and she marched past me in hostile silence before packing up our possessions. In the morning we were on the road again.

  Here at Kelsey School there’s a belief that every child can succeed. The staff believes each child should experience every subject and activity and become a ‘rounded individual’. We all have to take music and art lessons regardless of our ability and of course we have to participate in sports. The teachers here do not accept requests from parents asking for their child to be let off games lessons.

  I have developed a strategy where I undress in the toilets and change into my PE kit. This has worked well for me and I have done the same after games, waiting there while the girls showered and, chattering like parrots, get dressed again. In the mêlée, no one notices I have not showered with them. I slip away unseen. I am good at being a shadow – unnoticed. Or, at least I thought I was.

  I’m sitting at the back of the biology lab, head bent over a book, pretending to read a passage about photosynthesis, when Chloe and her clan come in. She slings her backpack onto the front bench but remains standing, her friends giggling and whispering. Sally, her second-in-command, passes something to her and Chloe holds it behind her back. Chloe is one of those girls that everyone has to look at so when she flounces through the laboratory every boy and girl watches her progress.

  ‘Something smells awful in here,’ she declares, pushing back her long blonde tresses, wrinkling her nose and sniffing like a dog hunting for truffles. She stops in front of my desk and sniffs even more dramatically.

  ‘It’s coming from here,’ she says as if I weren’t sat there.

  Then she whips out a bottle of perfume and sprays it liberally in my direction, making me cough and splutter. The class burst out laughing and someone applauds. I can’t see who it was. My eyes are watering badly and I can hardly breathe.

  ‘Dirty, disgusting girl,’ she scoffs. ‘You really should shower after exercising. You stink of rotten fish.’

  Humiliation burned my cheeks and I almost leap up and grab her by the throat but the teacher comes in and after opening the windows to let out the smell of the perfume, the class settles.

  I plot my revenge, aware I shall have to do something that will be stealthy and not involve me being expelled again

  19

  The sound of a raised voice woke Abigail. Her mouth felt parched and her eyes gritty. For a while she was discombobulated, then she remembered the events from the day before. She’d been really ill and Izzy… She shot out of the bed and stumbled towards the nursery. Izzy lay fast asleep in her cot, her downy hair stuck up at an angle but her face looking contented.

  From downstairs she could hear Jackson’s voice. She felt some apprehension as she descended and wondered if the mysterious caller was right about her husband.

  Jackson was on his mobile. ‘I’m not a mind-reader. But it was only food poisoning. She wasn’t at death’s door.’ There was a pause. ‘Okay. I get it. She was really ill. Look, I’m going to go now. I’ve been up all night. I’m really tired. Yeah. Okay.’ Jackson turned at the sound of the door opening, relief spread over his face. ‘Angel. How are you? I am so sorry. My phone ran out of battery and I forgot to take my charger.’ He strode towards her and enveloped her in his arms, kissing her on her forehead.

  She accepted his embrace, unwilling to reveal her true feelings. ‘It’s okay,’ she said. ‘Claire came over. I feel better now and Izzy is fine too. I just looked in on her.’

  Jackson stepped away. ‘Claire’s just been filling me in on it all on the phone. Are you sure you feel okay now? Shouldn’t we go to the doctor and get you both checked over?’

  ‘What did Claire say?’ asked Abigail.

  He heaved a sigh. ‘Oh, she thinks I’m a terrible husband for not being here when you needed me. And she’s right. I should have remembered my phone charger. I was in such a rush when I left. It was all last minute. Claire ripped me off a strip for not phoning you and went off on one about not having another number for me if anything awful had happened.’

  ‘Pity the hotel didn’t have a spare charger,’ said Abigail lightly.

  ‘I didn’t stay in a hotel,’ he said. ‘I spent the night at the airport on some very hard seats, waiting for my clients to return.’

  He gently lifted a strand of hair away from her eye where it had fallen and looked into her eyes. ‘I’m sorry I wasn’t around for you. Operations phoned as soon as you left for town. I was the only pilot free to take over from James. We had some important clients to fly to Spain. We couldn’t afford to lose the contract we have with them. They are good customers. But, if I had known you’d fallen ill, I’d never have gone.’

  His eyes were filled with anxiety and sadness. She couldn’t believe he was acting. This had to be genuine. The cruel phone call was a hoax. Jackson would not cheat on her. He took her hands in his and spoke again. ‘Look, it’s been a long night and I have to go back to the airport later. I really am pooped and I need a shower. I’m sure you could do with some more rest and Izzy is asleep. Why don’t you come back to bed and wait for me, then we can snuggle up together for a bit?’

  She nodded, even though she wasn’t sure how she felt about him at the moment.

  Jackson gave her a peck on the cheek. He undid the epaulettes on his shirt and slid off the captain’s four stripes
he usually wore and placed them in the usual spot by his car keys. He looked drained but smiled at her. ‘Izzy’s definitely okay?’ he asked again.

  ‘She’s fine.’

  ‘I’ll check on her and then grab a shower. See you in a while.’

  Abigail boiled the kettle to make tea for them both. As she picked up the mugs, her phone buzzed. Her pulse increased. She reluctantly responded.

  ‘Morning, Abigail. How nice to see you back on your feet and handsome Captain Jackson back home. And where has he been while you have been so poorly?’

  Abigail felt her blood warm. ‘I have had enough of you,’ she hissed. ‘Clear off and leave me alone. I don’t believe your bullshit about Jackson. So bugger off.’

  ‘Oh, feeling feisty, are we, Abigail? Okay. I’ll leave you alone. I suppose that means you don’t care about Jackson staying at the luxurious five star Hotel Gran Melia Don Pepe last night, wrapped up in luxurious Egyptian cotton sheets with a “client”. Still, you don’t want to listen and that’s your prerogative. But you can’t keep your head buried in the sand forever. I’m afraid this is only the beginning. There’s worse to come.’

  Once again the phone went dead.

  20

  Mary Matthews appeared to have aged since Robyn last saw her. Her eyes were sunken with large blue shadows under them. She ushered Robyn into the sitting room without the confidence she had possessed in the last meeting.

  ‘Any news?’ she asked.

  Robyn shook her head. ‘I’m really sorry but I have had to let my boss know about the “Sugar and Spice” file.’

  Mary hung her head. ‘I thought you would. I couldn’t expect you to ignore something like that. Men don’t ordinarily keep files with images of schoolgirls. I think I was in denial. Now, I feel numb. I want this over, Lucas to return and then I can have it all out with him. It’s the dishonesty that’s hurt me most.’ She tugged at a fingernail, its varnish chipped and picked away.