Vanished

Chapter 3

Avril Jenkins was growing on Jack. The couple of hours he spent with her was very revealing — not particularly in regard to the case, but certainly in regard to why she was this odd mix of old and young, past and present, strong and vulnerable.

He got the sense that Avril had willingly taken on quite a traditional role in the marriage which, after the death of her husband ten years ago, became redundant. She went from being ‘looked after’, to being solely responsible for an enormous property. She regressed, so as not to feel weighed down by the responsibility of adulthood. She hoarded, in order to keep hold of everything that made her feel safe, and she developed masculine traits, so as not to come across as a pushover to anyone who might be out to take advantage of an old widow. The result was this mishmash of contradictory characteristics, wrapped up in a woman who dressed like a child. But he could tell that at one time she must have been a very attractive and seductive woman.

Maggie listened as Jack described Avril, then quickly came to her own conclusions. ‘She reminds me of that woman you went to see on the Isle of Wight that time. Less dominatrixy, but just as eccentric in her own way. It’s a defence mechanism to be odd. Keeps people on their toes.’ Jack loved talking to Maggie about the strange people he came across in his job. She had a wonderfully generous way of assessing a person’s quirks and she understood that there was almost always a valid reason behind them.

‘She’s still a non-case,’ Jack said, as he toiled over fixing a small toy fire engine that Hannah had become particularly attached to. It was a pull-back-and-go vehicle, but something had broken inside, so now it just reversed without the satisfaction of then whizzing off forwards. ‘Sometimes, Mags, this job is one step forwards, two back. I mean, it wasn’t that long ago I was in the Cotswolds chasing down a gang of international mercenaries. And today? Today I drank tea with a seventy-something-year-old woman dressed like a teenager, who’s being stalked by the invisible man.’

Jack fell silent. Maggie could see that he had more to say, so she waited. Like a therapist waiting for their patient to reveal a deep-seated fear.

‘I think Ridley might be retiring,’ he said finally. Maggie was openly shocked. Not just because she genuinely liked Ridley, but because she knew how much Jack respected him. That mattered. Jack didn’t respect people easily and her fear was that, without Ridley, Jack might regress to being the apathetic policeman he was when they first moved from Totnes to London. Jack pulled the toy fire engine back across the coffee table and let go. It didn’t move. ‘Fuck it,’ Jack muttered and went to the kitchen to get two beers.

When he came back into the lounge, Maggie changed the subject. ‘Mr Wetlock’s daughter is taking drugs. He’s very worried about—’

‘You know what, Mags,’ Jack interrupted. ‘She’s chosen a dodgy path because she’s lacking something from him. Security, guidance, I don’t know. But he’s in the privileged position of being able to sort this himself. She’s a young adult. A troubled one, sure, but still. He doesn’t need the police to get her back onto the right path — he needs to do it.’ Jack gulped at his beer and gathered his thoughts. ‘I’m sorry. But it’s not a police matter.’ Jack leant forwards and kissed Maggie firmly on the lips. ‘I love you. You know I’m not just being an arsehole, right?’ The gentle kiss that Maggie returned, told Jack that she knew he was right. ‘How’s your wedding dress coming along?’

A childlike smile crept over Maggie’s face. Her excitement was getting harder to contain as their wedding day got closer. Tomorrow evening, she was going to the home of the seamstress sister of Barbara — who worked in the hospital pharmacy — to do the first fitting. Penny was her wingman, the champagne was on ice, and Jack was babysitting.

‘Maggie Warr.’ Her words brimmed with pride. ‘I’m going to be Maggie Warr.’

By eleven the next morning, Laura was sitting on a bench looking out across a long stretch of sandy beach, polishing off a large portion of fish and chips. She wiped her greasy fingers on her jeans, so that her mobile screen would respond to her touch, and called Jack, back in the squad room.

Her interview with Hester Mancroft had filled in some of the blanks from Adam’s past — when he lodged with her and her son, Julian: Adam was an eighteen-year-old student at Chelsea Art College. He’d rented one of the rooms in her B&B for about six months but, once her business began to fail, she’d had to ask him to leave. Hester described Adam as a very handsome, clever and articulate young man. He and Julian were close friends and, although she wasn’t certain, she thought they’d lived together for a short time in London.

‘I asked her for Julian’s contact details, but he died of a heroin OD five years ago. “Oops” moment or what!’ Laura tucked her mobile between her ear and shoulder, so she could screw up her chip paper. ‘He had a record for possession and supplying, but it wasn’t big-time. Three prison sentences for distribution. Cocaine, cannabis and heroin. Last conviction was seven years ago, after which he travelled to the US to attend an elite drug rehab course. Then back to the UK, to pick up where he left off. Rented a few places, did a bit of sofa-surfing and was found dead in a disused warehouse in early 2017. Anyway, her description of Adam is the same as the neighbour’s — he’s a nice, normal man.’

Jack decided they were probably at a dead end. The elusive Adam Border remained elusive; but seeing as there was no evidence that he’d done anything wrong, they had no justification for continuing to try and track him down.

Whilst Jack had been liaising with Laura, he’d finished his final report, which concluded that the Avril Jenkins case should be referred back to Kingston as ‘no further action’. ‘I’ve got one more thing to do, and that’s try a phone number, which I don’t expect actually belongs to anyone. Then I’m going to sign this off. Cheers for your help, Laura.’

Jack dialled the phone number belonging to Adam Border’s girlfriend. As expected, no one answered, and no answerphone service kicked in. Jack signed the back page of the report and Avril Jenkins was officially back to being the responsibility of Kingston.

‘Hello?’ The tiny voice on the other end of the phone made Jack stop dead. He formally introduced himself and asked the name of the person he was speaking to. ‘Jessica Chi...’ Her voice began to tremble. ‘Have you found him? Have you found Adam?’