Part 17 (2/2)

Tom focused on the road for a moment. He was certain Maggie had been standing outside the office a few days ago. And she must have been to the custody suite before, so she couldn't have been confused about which building she needed to visit. And she had been staring at the door, as if she couldn't decide whether to go in or not. And all of that had happened before the incident with the van.

'What about this Alf Horton character? I know he gives you the creeps, but what's the deal with him warning her about something?' he said.

'No idea, but he's a nasty b.a.s.t.a.r.d. I wouldn't put it past him to try to wind her up and it seems he succeeded.'

'What else did you notice? You're pretty good at reading people.'

'I noticed that she was unbelievably uncomfortable when we mentioned her husband.'

They sat in silence for a while, the grey skies and the thin drizzle making driving conditions less than ideal.

'Okay, Becky, next steps with Adam Mellor?'

'Everybody's on the lookout for either the van or his car. We need to get Julian Richmond to give us a contact his closest friend if possible so that we can get a list of his known a.s.sociates. We have intermittent checking on his home to see if he turns up there, and we're following up the story of a death in the family. We're also looking into any other property that he might own.'

Tom was happy with the actions Becky was proposing, but there was one other thing he wanted her to do.

'You know about the bodies that have been found in the ca.n.a.ls around Manchester in the past few years?'

'You mean the ”pusher” cases?'

Tom looked at her sideways, his eyebrows raised.

'Sorry, I know they've all been declared either accidental or suicide, but you have to admit it's a bit odd.'

Tom knew what she meant. Over sixty bodies had been found in the last few years, and almost all of them were men. There was no evidence they had been murdered, and the general consensus was that they had been drunk and had fallen in. Suicide was always possible, but as one eminent psychologist had pointed out very loudly, ca.n.a.ls are not locations of choice for suicide and the chances of success without weighing yourself down beforehand are pretty slim.

'I'm interested in the few women they've found. I know the deaths go back fifteen years or so and some of the bodies are badly decomposed, but I'd like to see if any of the women died around 2003, and if so whether they had any links with Manchester University. Can you add that to the list?'

For some reason Tom couldn't get it out of his head that all those years ago there should have been a third victim.

Maggie had closed the door on the police as soon as she reasonably could without seeming rude and leaned back heavily against it. She knew her behaviour had been that of a guilty person she had met enough of them. But when she reported her concerns she had never imagined she would be interviewed by Tom Douglas. She had been expecting a constable a sergeant at most to be a.s.signed to her case.

For somebody like Tom Douglas to come all this way to talk to her about a possible stalking incident, the driver of the van had to be linked to a serious crime. It had to be the murders. It was the only thing that made sense.

She grabbed the phone, terrified that somebody would ring her and ruin her chance of dialling 1471 so she could get the number that Duncan had called from. She didn't think he would have blocked it if he was using a call box because he could just walk away.

Duncan must have known it was somebody official at the door. He would have heard her called Mrs Taylor, and the fact that she had called him Clare would have been all the signal he needed. He had muttered 's.h.i.+t!' and hung up without another word.

1471 worked. She tried to connect, but there was no answer.

Maggie wanted to scream. Whatever was going on, she knew Duncan would have freaked out if he had guessed she was talking to the police and that might be the last she heard from him. Why on earth hadn't she said she was talking to her husband and asked Tom Douglas to give her a moment? He didn't know Duncan was missing, and it would have seemed the most natural thing in the world, but she had panicked. And why had she shouted questions at Duncan when all she wanted to say to him was 'Come home' and 'I love you'?

Duncan, darling where are you? The thought revolved around her head, beating against every conscious thought.

One other thought was battling for supremacy. Who are you, Duncan?

She walked through to the kitchen and sat down. She waited two minutes and tried the number again. It rang until it automatically disconnected.

Her laptop pinged and she stared at the screen.

It was a message on Facebook, and it was from Stacey Meagan, the girl in the photo with Duncan.

I got your message, but not sure if I can help you. The boy in the picture is Michael. He was a bit older than me. He was at Pat's when I arrived and left when I was still in my early teens. I do remember he had a crazy coloured bike, though. He was eighteen when he left. He came back a few times the first year, but then Pat never heard from him again. She was devastated. I have no idea where to find him. Sorry.

Maggie read the message over and over. Michael. His name was Michael. He was in foster care. Surely that couldn't be right. His mother was alive until he was twenty. Maggie had a.s.sumed he was a friend of one of the other kids. Why would he have been in foster care?

She slowly and thoughtfully typed a response.

When Michael left, do you know where he went? And do you by any chance know his surname?

That was a risk. Stacey Meagan might think it odd that she was searching for somebody but didn't even know his surname, but she would think of something if that came up.

Michael left to go to university. I think Pat told me he bombed out at the end of his second year. I'm sorry, I can't remember his surname. There were so many of us, see, coming and going all the time. But I'll ask some of the others if you like?

Maggie pressed her palms together, index fingers tapping against her teeth. She wasn't sure if she wanted to know any more, but she couldn't stop now.

Thank you, Stacey. You have been really helpful. If you could ask around I would be grateful. In the meantime, do you by any chance remember which university he went to?

She was sure the answer would be Leeds. At least that would make sense. The reply was instant.

No problem I've already started spreading the word. I can't ask Pat she's in a home now and sadly she has Alzheimer's. If I catch her on a lucid day I'll see what I can do. Oh, and the university, it was Manchester.

Maggie hadn't heard the front door open, but was suddenly conscious there was somebody behind her in the kitchen. She spun round, aware that tears were streaming down her face. 'Sorry,' she said, quickly scrubbing away the tears with her fingers.

Suzy had returned home with the children and she ushered them into the sitting room, telling Josh to choose a DVD, then pulled the door shut and turned to face Maggie.

'What's happened?' she asked. 'You look like you've seen a ghost.'

Maggie leaned back in her chair and looked up at the ceiling, trying to curb the tears.

'Duncan phoned, but he hung up when the police arrived and didn't leave a number. I don't know who he is, Suzy. He's not even called Duncan. He's called Michael.'

Maggie didn't look at Suzy's face. She didn't want to see what her sister thought of Duncan, and she knew Suzy would find it impossible to disguise her feelings. To give her credit, she didn't say anything; she just reached out and grabbed Maggie's hands.

Duncan had never wanted to talk about himself much, and Maggie had always felt that each time she learned a new fact about her husband there was a sense of discovery, as if she was getting closer and closer to him. Now she seemed so naive.

'Why's he been lying to me? Do you know, if you'd asked me a week ago, I would have said we didn't have secrets. There was that stupid cupboard, but I guessed it held mementoes of his mum things he didn't want to share. There were gaps, but I didn't think of them as secrets; I thought of them as private thoughts and feelings that I would learn as time went on.'

She pulled a tissue from the box that Suzy had put in front of her and blew her nose.

'You know how it feels, Suze, when you really love someone. You start off as separate people whose bodies and minds are touching, but gradually you begin to feel more and more as if you're melting into one another, as if you can't get any closer without getting inside their skin with them. Each little detail that I learned about Duncan pulled me further and further into him. It was wonderful. Do you know what I mean?'

Suzy was quiet for a long moment, and Maggie opened her eyes and turned towards her. Tears were now streaming down her sister's face.

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