Danielle Ramsay - Broken Silence

‘Naomi Edwards, 17, Wallsend,’ Brady muttered as his eyes scanned down the first page of the printout.

‘Shit,’ Brady cursed as he turned to the next page and finally the next.

He read down the list of names until he came to the third one from the bottom.

‘Sophie Washington, 15, West Monkseaton …’ Brady faltered.

How the hell had they missed something as crucial as this? But he knew the answer; the team were looking for a missing female between eighteen to thirty. He couldn’t fault them; even Brady found it difficult to believe what Matthews had told him. To Brady, the victim’s body resembled that of a young woman in her late teens or early twenties, not a girl of fifteen. If it hadn’t been for his conversation with Matthews, Brady wouldn’t have even considered other possibilities so early into the investigation.

His eyes read the date she had been reported missing. He read the date again to make sure he wasn’t mistaken: three that morning. He then double-checked the location of her parents’ home: West Monkseaton.

Something like this couldn’t be kept quiet. If the missing fifteen-year-old girl was the murder victim then all hell was going to break loose and that would only be the beginning of it.

Chapter Thirteen

‘Shit!’ cursed Brady as he disconnected the phone.

It had cut straight to Matthews’ voice mail. He checked his watch; 9.47 am. He had no choice but to ring Matthews’ home number.

No one answered.

He tried to ignore the fact that Matthews didn’t want to talk.

He picked up his jacket and limped out of his office to meet Conrad.

‘Come on, Conrad. What are you waiting for?’ Brady questioned as he slammed the car door shut.

He was pissed off and needed someone to take it out on. Unfortunately for Conrad he was the closest target. It was Matthews he wanted to kick, but the problem was he couldn’t get hold of the bugger.

‘For you, sir,’ answered Conrad. ‘As usual.’

Brady smiled. If felt good to be back.

‘Actually, Dr Jenkins has asked to join us,’ Conrad stated.

‘No? Shit. Why the hell would she want to come with us?’

‘Because DCI Gates has assigned her to the investigation, sir,’ replied Conrad carefully.

‘Tell me something I don’t know,’ muttered Brady.

‘She’s just arrived and caught me as I was leaving. She was adamant about coming with us. Something about you briefing her about the investigation?’

‘Shit,’ cursed Brady. ‘Tell you what, Conrad. Just drive, will you? I’ll worry about Dr Jenkins.’

‘Whatever you, say, sir,’ answered Conrad. ‘But she won’t be happy.’

‘Good, that makes two of us,’ replied Brady.

‘I better warn you, sir, she’s not a woman who likes being messed around.’

‘Tell me one who does?’ asked Brady, thinking of Claudia.

‘Do you mind?’ he asked as he pulled out a pack of cigarettes from inside his jacket. There was no question about the fact that he needed one.

‘Does it matter if I do?’ Conrad asked as he buzzed down the passenger window.

‘Appreciate it.’

‘Just don’t get any ash in the car, sir.’

Brady suddenly realised the car was new. Same model, but brand new.

‘Whatever we’re paying you, it’s too much,’ Brady replied as he gestured at the state of the art dashboard.

He lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply making a mental note not to accidentally burn the leather upholstery. He rested his head back against the seat and momentarily closed his eyes as he enjoyed the icy damp air washing over his face. He felt very tired and realised that he had only had a couple of hours’ sleep, if that.

‘No word yet on the victim’s identity?’

‘No, sir. Few maybes, but nothing concrete,’ answered Conrad.

Exactly as Brady had expected.

His phone rang. Without thinking he answered it.

‘DI Brady?’

‘Yeah?’

‘I take it I’ve wasted my time?’

‘I’m sorry?’

‘You know exactly what I mean. I turn my back for one minute and you conveniently disappear. This is typical of you to run out on me, Jack. However, this isn’t one of our counselling sessions, this is a murder investigation. And it was DCI Gates who requested my expertise, not the other way around.’

‘I apologise for not being there to brief you, Dr Jenkins, but I have instructed DS Adamson to show you what we’ve got so far,’ answered Brady evenly.

‘I’ve cancelled patients to help you with this investigation but if you’re not interested in my expertise then I’d rather know about it than have you waste my time. Which it seems you’re rather good at.’

‘I honestly don’t know what’s given you that idea.’

‘Cut the bullshit, Jack!’

‘Got to go, but we’ll catch up when I get back to the station,’ Brady concluded abruptly before disconnecting the phone.

‘Sounds like she’s not too happy with you,’ stated Conrad.

‘Yeah? What makes you think that?’ asked Brady as a flicker of a smile played on his lips.

‘Take a right, here,’ he instructed as they approached a roundabout.

‘Yes sir,’ answered Conrad as he swung over into the right-hand lane.

‘At least she’s got Adamson to keep her busy.’

‘I’d be careful of Adamson, sir. He’s interested in no one but himself. Let’s say he’s not a team player,’ answered Conrad as he narrowed his steel-grey eyes. ‘Word is he’s after a promotion and he doesn’t care how he gets it, or who he takes it from.’

‘I take it you don’t like him?’

‘We joined at the same time so I had the misfortune of spending two years with Adamson. When the training was over, I swore I’d never work with him again.’

‘That bad?’

‘You don’t want to know.’

Brady knew Adamson was a roach, but to have Conrad say it worried him. In all the time he’d worked with Conrad he’d rarely heard him say a bad word against anyone.

‘Where to now?’ Conrad asked, after taking the right turn.

Brady looked out the window and realised they were heading along Seatonville Road. Not far now, he uneasily thought.

‘Fairfield Drive, West Monkseaton. Number 18.’

‘Can I ask why there, sir?’ Conrad ventured.

‘Later. Just let me see if my hunch is right first. The less you know about this, the better,’ Brady answered, not wanting to jeopardise Conrad’s career, as well as his own.

Chapter Fourteen

Number 18.

He walked up the newly paved driveway carefully lined with shrubs and trees. He glanced at the one-year-old dark blue metallic BMW 5 Series saloon parked in front of the electronic white garage doors, passing it to reach the white, wooden porch.

He took a deep breath before ringing the old-fashioned doorbell. As he waited, he took in the original 1920s ornate stained glass in the front door and below it the antique polished brass lion’s head knocker and letter box.

Heavy footsteps approached as a man in his late forties opened the door.

‘Yes?’ he curtly demanded.

Brady noted that his overall appearance may have been conservative but it made a statement. He was wearing a casual pale blue Armani jeans stripe shirt and Crombie front pleat dark grey trousers, finished off with black Kurt Geiger shoes. The man obviously liked to look good; nothing brash, but it took money to wear those clothes.

Brady held up his ID.

‘I’m sorry to bother you, sir, but I need to ask you a few questions about your daughter, Sophie?’ Brady began.

He seemed to deliberate over Brady’s words. He may have been clean-shaven with short black hair, respectably peppered with flecks of silver, but behind his black Christian Dior spectacles his red-rimmed, bloodshot eyes told another story. Craggy lines spread out from the corners of his eyes as he suspiciously narrowed them.