Кара Хантер - In the Dark

‘What do you mean, you “let her stay”?’

‘Gardiner had chucked her out. She had nowhere else to go so I let her stay.’

‘At your flat? Jesus, Quinn –’

‘I know, I know – look, nothing happened, I swear –’

‘That’s not the point though, is it? You need to get her out of there – pronto.’

‘She’s already gone. I went back just now and she wasn’t there.’

‘But she’s still coming in to make that statement?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘What do you mean, you don’t know? You got her number, right – you can call her?’

Quinn sighs. ‘The one she gave me is unobtainable.’

Gislingham’s getting really pissed off now. ‘Oh, that’s fucking marvellous – so we now have no idea where she is, and no way of contacting her, and she could be the only witness we have against Gardiner.’

Quinn takes a deep breath. ‘There’s something else. I looked at the phone – her texts and stuff. It was just for a minute – she was in the shower –’

‘Shit, mate, when in a hole, stop effing digging – you need permission to do that, you know you do. You could lose your sodding job over this –’

‘I know that, all right?’ snaps Quinn. ‘It was just – there – and now –’

There’s a silence.

‘And now what?’

‘Now I know Gardiner’s lying. Pippa was texting him at least a week before Hannah’s disappearance.’

‘Yeah, well, that’s not such a big deal, is it – she was looking after his kid – she was bound to text him sometimes –’

‘Not like that, Gis. Trust me.’

Trust you to get us into this sodding mess, more like, thinks Gislingham. ‘So what do we do now? They probably wouldn’t give us a warrant for her phone even if we had the right number because we can’t claim she’s any sort of suspect – even if she was screwing Gardiner she has a rock-solid alibi for the morning Hannah disappeared. And we can’t let on what we’re really looking for because that’ll just land you in the shit.’

‘Look, are you going to help me or what?’

Gislingham sighs as loudly as he can. ‘I don’t have much of a choice, do I?’

***

It’s just after five and I’m with Baxter at the tech firm who do our forensic voice-recognition work. We’re in front of a bank of computer screens. I haven’t got a clue what half this stuff is for. The analyst sitting beside us doesn’t look much older than fifteen.

‘OK,’ he says after a moment, ‘I’ve got the audio loaded now, so let’s have a listen.’

24/06/2015 06:50:34

It’s me. Where are you? I’ll have to leave soon. Call me, will you?

There’s a muffled noise, some clicks and then the line goes dead. She sounds exasperated, on the edge of anger. The analyst goes back and plays it again, and Hannah Gardiner’s frustration maps itself on to the screen in a series of peaks and troughs. Loudness, pitch, intensity. The analyst sits back, then turns towards me.

‘The problem is she says so little. It’s only fourteen words, and it’s pretty distorted. But I cleaned it up as much as I can and compared it to some other material which we know is definitely Hannah Gardiner’s voice. Reports on the BBC website, that sort of thing.’

He turns and pulls up more wave patterns on to the screen. ‘See – all three of these are obviously the same person – you can tell that with the naked eye, even without doing the analytics.’

He drags the pattern made by the voicemail over and lines it up with the other samples. ‘And here’s your voicemail.’ He sits back. ‘Like I said, fourteen words isn’t really enough to make a definitive match, but for my money, it’s her.’

‘So she was alive and well, in Crescent Square, at 6.50 that morning?’

He nods. ‘Looks like it.’

***

‘Quinn? It’s me.’

Gislingham is out of breath, his voice coming in gasps. In the background Quinn can hear traffic.

‘Where are you?’

‘On the High. I was coming back from Cowley and I think I just saw Pippa Walker. If it wasn’t her it’s someone who looks bloody like her.’

Quinn grips the phone. ‘ Where – where did you see her?’

‘At the bus-stop by Queen’s Lane. I’m there now – I came back as soon as I could turn round but she’d already gone.’

‘Did she have bags with her – a suitcase or anything?’

‘Not that I could see. Just a carrier bag, I think.’

‘So if we’re lucky she’s still in Oxford.’

‘I’ll see if we can get some CCTV. We may be able to work out what bus she got on.’

‘Cheers, mate. I owe you one.’

‘Yeah,’ says Gislingham heavily. ‘I know.’

***

Sent:Fri 05/05/2017, 18.05

From:AlanChallowCSI@ThamesValley.police.uk

To:DIAdamFawley@ThamesValley.police.uk, CID@ThamesValley.police.uk

Subject: DNA results: 33 Frampton Road

I’m about to call you about this, but in case I don’t get through, here are the salient points:

Shed

We double-checked the results for the blanket used to wrap the body of Hannah Gardiner, and there is no DNA from either Donald Walsh or William Harper. The only DNA aside from hers was – as previously stated – that of her husband, Robert Gardiner, and her son, Toby Gardiner.

Cellar

The young woman’s bed yielded DNA from two males: saliva from Donald Walsh, and both saliva and semen from William Harper.

Child

We ran a DNA test on the samples obtained with the assistance of Social Services, and cross-checked them against some small blood spots found on the child’s bedding. The boy in the cellar is William Harper’s son.

***

I’ve just got to the ward at the John Rad when the call from Challow comes through, which earns me a disapproving look from the nurse.

‘You’re supposed to turn those things off, Inspector.’

‘I know. I’m sorry, but this is important.’

And it is.

‘You’re sure – no question?’ I take a deep breath. ‘Right. I’m at the hospital. I’ll talk to her. See if I can get her to confirm it.’

The nurse is looking at me with pointed impatience. ‘Are you ready now?’

‘Yes, sorry.’

*

It’s less than forty-eight hours since I last saw her, but Vicky looks a lot better. Someone’s helped her wash her hair, and she’s sitting in the chair by the window in a pair of jeans and a big jumper. There’s a magazine on her lap and she suddenly looks re-attached to the world. An ordinary girl again. I tip my hat silently to whoever it was did all this, and when I catch the nurse’s eye I know it was her. She smiles.

‘I think Vicky’s feeling a bit better today. We’ve even managed to persuade her to eat something.’

I gesture towards the chair by the bed. ‘Can I sit by you for a few minutes, Vicky?’

She flashes me a look, then nods. I drag the chair a little closer and sit down.

‘Have you been able to write anything down for us?’

She flushes a little and looks away.

‘Vicky still hasn’t been able to speak,’ says the nurse. ‘We think it’s better not to push it. Take things slowly.’

‘I think that’s a very good idea,’ I say, trying to look reassuring. ‘But I’ve just had a call from our forensics lab, and if you think you’re up to it I’d like to ask you a couple of questions. Would that be OK?’

She looks at me. Makes no movement.

‘There’s one thing we need to be really clear about: whether there was just one person who attacked you or whether there were two of them. We can’t tell for certain from the DNA results we’ve had, and I’m sure you understand how important it is that we know for sure, one way or the other. So can you tell me, Vicky? Was it just one man – no one else?’