It was a few hours later when Murphy finally left the station. The clock in his car announced he’d been at work for almost fourteen hours, which wasn’t a record, but it had been a while since that had happened. His phone had been buzzing in his pocket periodically for a few hours. Murphy knew who it was so he hadn’t even bothered to look.
He drove away from the station and down St Anne Street, waiting until he was a good distance from it before turning down a side street and pulling out his phone.
Stacey Maguire – six missed calls.
Murphy keyed the call back button and lifted the phone to his ear.
Stacey answered after only one ring. ‘I’ve been trying to get hold of you for ages,’ she said, without a greeting.
‘I’ve been busy,’ Murphy said, suppressing a yawn. ‘You know I’m involved in the other case.’
‘Yeah, that bloody ChloJoe one. How could I forget? Now my Amy doesn’t have a chance of anyone doing anything, does she?’
‘That’s not true, Stacey . . .’
‘Of course it is. I know the score. Tell me you’re still trying to find out where she is, David. They’re not telling me anything down here. Just putting me through to some kid who doesn’t know his arse from his elbow.’
Murphy rubbed the bridge of his nose with his free hand. ‘The guy who came in at the beginning of the week . . .’
‘I still can’t believe they let him out. He must know something. Why would he just confess like that and then say he was lying?’
‘Listen, Stace, what I’m about to tell you stays between us, okay? I’m serious, if this got back to anyone, I wouldn’t be able to help any more.’
‘No problem. I won’t say anything.’
Murphy paused, still unsure if it was a good idea to tell her or not. Decided it wouldn’t come back on him and would save the detectives in Liverpool South any more questions. ‘I went to see him.’
‘The guy who confessed? What did he say? Did you find out where she is? Oh my God, oh my God . . .’
‘Calm down,’ Murphy said, immediately regretting saying anything. ‘I would have led with that if it was good news.’
There was silence over the phone for a second. ‘What happened then?’
‘I asked him a few questions. Made sure he was telling the truth . . .’
‘He could be lying still.’
‘No, he’s definitely not. He had nothing to do with this. He doesn’t know where Amy is, Stacey. I’m sorry.’
‘Are you sure?’
Murphy felt a growing pain behind his eyes. The start of one of his oh-so-bloody-wonderful tired headaches. ‘I’m sure. We’re no closer, I’m sorry.’
‘What am I supposed to do now, David? I thought you were going to help me. Help us both. You haven’t been there for her for almost nineteen years, you should be doing more.’
‘Why haven’t I been there for nineteen years? Because I didn’t know she existed until a week ago.’
‘There’s no need to shout,’ Stacey replied, huffing down the line at him. ‘I need someone in the police to help me find my daughter. That’s all.’
‘I’m doing all I can. I think it’s best that we leave it to CID near you now. If I get involved any more, they’re going to start asking more questions. I’ll keep in touch with them, though. Make sure they know the importance of it. And I’ll do the best I can to ask more questions around the place. Make sure every copper in the city knows to be on the lookout for her.’
Murphy listened as Stacey Maguire berated him for a few more minutes, accepting the insults and heartbreak.
‘Please, please keep trying. I need someone to help us. You could be her dad. Doesn’t that mean anything?’
‘Of course it does,’ Murphy said, trying to keep the venom out of his voice. The certainty that he wasn’t Amy’s father had risen to 99.5 per cent over the course of the conversation. ‘I will try my best.’
Murphy hung up and pointed his car towards home and drove away.
* * *
Rossi was expecting an easy evening. A couple of hours in front of the latest box set she was catching up with, then an early night. Ready to get back to work the next day, fresh and revitalised. The night shift would have messages to pass on to her and the rest of the team, but until then, she could just switch off.
That was until she spotted the figure on her doorstep.
She stopped dead at the entrance to her path. Tried to decide whether to confront or run. The street lights weren’t making a dent into the darkness of her doorway, all she could see was a shadow in human form.
‘Laura?’
Her heart didn’t stop thumping, but it began to calm from the jackhammer it had been moments earlier. She took her hand away from her back pocket where it had been resting – the weapon inside it unused once more – and swallowed. ‘Vaffanculo. You scared the life out of me.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Darren said, stepping away from the door. ‘I just had to see you. I tried ringing, but it was going straight to voicemail.’
Rossi remembered turning her phone off when they had begun the house raid on what had turned out to be an old woman, with an almost as ancient laptop. She hadn’t switched it back on again. She lifted it out of her pocket. ‘Had to switch it off. Work stuff.’
‘You going to invite me in?’
Rossi walked towards Darren, shrugging him off as he went to plant a kiss on her. ‘Not out here. My neighbours are prudes.’
Darren laughed and placed his hands on her shoulders as she opened the door. ‘Let them see. About time they had something to talk about around here.’
‘Stai zitto! Be quiet. Just get in, will you.’
An hour later, lying in bed next to Darren, Rossi could feel her eyes closing. ‘If you don’t want to stay, I suggest going now. I’m going to be asleep any second.’
‘I’ll have to go,’ Darren said. ‘I’ve got an early shift in the morning and I don’t want to wake you. Looks like you’re dead on your feet.’
‘I am now, thanks to you.’
Darren touched a palm to his chest. ‘I am honoured to make you feel that way.’
Rossi sometimes didn’t know if he was joking or being serious. That was the only thing that made her pause. If he was kidding, all was good. If not, then some of the things he said were slightly . . . weird.
The sex was good though. Very good, she thought. Best she’d had for a long time and that was saying something.
‘You’re best going then,’ Rossi said, turning over onto her side. ‘Do us a favour, lock the door on your way out and post the keys.’
‘No problem,’ Darren said, sitting on the edge of her bed and pulling on his trousers.
Rossi was almost asleep when she became aware of him standing over her.
‘I’ll speak to you tomorrow or something,’ she said, half into the pillow.
‘Okay,’ Darren said, leaning down to lay a kiss on the top of her head. ‘Speak later.’
She was never sure if he was joking or being serious. That’s why she didn’t respond when he stood at her bedroom doorway and whispered, ‘I love you.’
Rossi let sleep consume her instead.
* * *
He saw her car as he pulled into the driveway – she’d parked a bit further down the road, her licence plate briefly illuminated in his headlights. Murphy frowned as he snapped off The Who mid-squeal and got out of the car. He let himself into the house, waiting to hear voices but instead was greeted only by silence.
‘Hello?’
There was a murmur from behind the living-room door as he removed his coat and hung it up. ‘Through here,’ he heard Sarah say.
Murphy took a deep breath and pushed open the living-room door.
He was transported back a couple of years, before anything terrible had happened. He would return home to find his wife Sarah taking up one side of the sofa, her legs tucked up underneath her and a glass of wine half full on the small table in front of her, Jess sitting next to her. The sound of laughter and chatter emanating from the room, before he’d even entered. Two, three times a week this would be what greeted him when he came home.
Now, the scene was similar, but so different in many ways. Sarah was in her usual place, but she was sitting upright, her feet on the floor, a half-empty cup of tea in front of her. Jess was perched next to her, ready to stand up at any second, still wearing her coat.
‘Hey,’ Murphy said, not sure what was going on. ‘Everything okay?’ Sarah turned to him with puffy, red eyes. Not a great sign, he thought. ‘What’s going on?’
‘I think you know, David,’ Sarah said, looking away from him. ‘Do you want to tell me what’s been going on?’
Murphy locked eyes with Jess who returned his stare.
‘What’s been going on? What are you talking about?’
‘Sit down, David,’ Jess said, her voice calm and so unlike the angry tone he’d received before. ‘Let’s discuss this.’
Murphy perched on the arm of his chair, trying to run through excuses as to why he hadn’t told Sarah the truth about what was going on. Trying to come up with lies he could tell, just so she wouldn’t think badly of him. But his mind wasn’t playing. Nothing coming to him easily.
‘My client, Keith Hudson, called the office this afternoon,’ Jess said, once she’d paused a few seconds to make Murphy sweat more. ‘Said he’d had a visitor to his house.’
Murphy wanted to scratch his beard, play with an earlobe, anything. Instead, he kept his hands still, clasped together on his lap. ‘Yeah, go on.’
‘He said the big detective who had first interviewed him had come to his house, walked inside when he wasn’t invited and then physically threatened him. Pushed him up against a wall and hurt him by grabbing him by the throat.’
Murphy didn’t say anything, wondering when the actual body blow of Amy Maguire and her mother was going to appear.
‘Why would you do that, David?’ Sarah said, sitting forward on the sofa. ‘You could be sacked for something like that.’
Murphy shook his head. ‘No, that wouldn’t happen.’
‘Are you sure about that?’ Jess said, raising an arched eyebrow. ‘I’ve heard of people getting demoted for much less. You don’t think a detective going round to an innocent man’s house and assaulting him wouldn’t result in a tribunal?’
‘Assaulting him?’ Murphy said, standing up and pacing towards the mantelpiece. ‘It wasn’t anything like that. I just thought he had more questions to answer and that’s it. I had a bit of time, so I went over there.’
‘Surely you can see that’s not right?’
‘Well, if you hadn’t come along, Jess, and stopped him talking, maybe I wouldn’t have had to do that, would I? There’s a poor girl somewhere out there, waiting for someone to help her. What was I supposed to do?’
‘You really think Keith Hudson had anything to do with it? You’ve met him, spent time with him. He’s not well, David. It was bloody obvious to me. You’re a detective and you couldn’t work that one out?’
‘You can never be too careful.’
‘I think in this instance you ought to be,’ Jess said, standing up and pulling her coat tighter across her body. ‘He’s not going to say anything for now, but that’s only because I’ve convinced him not to. But you’ve got to sort yourself out.’
‘Thanks, Jess,’ Murphy said, attempting a smile as he gripped hold of the mantelpiece. ‘I appreciate it.’
‘I didn’t do it for you,’ Jess replied, turning away from him. ‘I did it for Sarah. That’s why she had to know, to make sure you don’t make any more mistakes by hiding things away from her. She doesn’t deserve to go through any of that. She’s done nothing wrong. I won’t do it again, though. Believe me. You mess up again and I won’t be here warning you off.’
Murphy gazed down at the carpet, the edge of the rug he had never wanted to buy jutting out from underneath the coffee table. ‘Okay.’
Jess headed for the door, Sarah jumping up as she did so and following her out of the room.
Murphy considered going after her, making another attempt at reconciliation, but knew it wasn’t worth it. It still wasn’t time.
He heard the door close and waited with his eyes still down. All thoughts of an early night now washed away as his mind clicked into gear.
‘You want to tell me what’s going on?’ Sarah said as she entered the room.
Murphy lifted his head to look at Sarah, wanting to tell her so much. Everything that had happened in the previous few days. Why he was becoming slowly obsessed with the case of a missing girl he knew wasn’t anything to do with him.
‘It’s nothing,’ he said, putting one foot in front of the other and walking past her. ‘Just work stuff. There’s nothing to worry about. Just went a little bit too Gene Hunt, that’s all. Won’t happen again.’
He watched as Sarah took in what he said, waiting for her not to accept the lie. A look passed over her face, gone in an instant.
‘Okay, fine. I’ve missed you today.’
Murphy smiled, glad the conversation was over. ‘Well, I’m home now.’
