DC Finn Cotton and PC Natasha Tranter had been paired up and were tasked with searching the small copse of trees known as Storrs Brook. Light was beginning to fade, and it wouldn’t be long before the sun disappeared behind the looming clouds slowly edging their way across the horizon. Following a hot, dry summer, it would appear that autumn was about to bite; a storm was coming.
Throughout the day the wind had steadily increased. The heavy-duty waterproof trousers and matching coat, hat, and insulated gloves were not flattering, but they helped keep the officers warm.
‘I bet we’ve done more than ten thousand steps today,’ Natasha said as she and Finn left the brightness of farmland behind and entered the shadowy cover of trees. The temperature was noticeably cooler in the Brook.
‘My feet are killing me,’ Finn said. ‘I bet I’ve got blisters when I eventually take these off.’
‘Do you think we’ll find her?’
Finn turned to look at his partner. He saw the worried expression on her face. ‘I kind of hope we don’t. If we find her out here then we’re finding a dead body.’
‘The only alternative is that she’s been taken for … God only knows what. It’s a no-win situation.’
‘Don’t let DCI Darke hear you say that. There’s a lot riding on her finding Keeley alive.’
‘What’s she like to work for, DCI Darke?’
It was a while before Finn answered. ‘I don’t really know her that well. I generally take my orders from DI Brady, but she seems fair. She’s a little screwed up, obviously. Every now and then I feel like I’m being stared at. I look up and she’s glaring at me and then I remember I’m sitting at DC Easter’s desk.’
Searching the copse would require more intricate techniques than open space. There were many places a body, or clothing, or a scrap of fibre could be hiding. Finn took a torch from the pocket of his oversized coat and switched it on. It wasn’t dark yet, but twilight was setting in. It wouldn’t be long before the search was called off for the evening and they’d be brought back out here again tomorrow.
They looked around trees, up trees, swept undergrowth and scrambled through thickets. The ground was uneven and bone dry. Twigs snapped underfoot, the sound echoing in the silence.
‘Finn, can I ask you a question?’
‘Sure.’
‘Has anyone mentioned me in the HMET?’
He thought for a moment. ‘I don’t think so. Why?’
‘I just wondered if people were talking about me going out with Rory.’
‘I haven’t heard anything.’
‘That’s good. I’m being talked about by some of the uniform officers,’ she said, looking downbeat.
‘Really? Why?’
‘A female PC going out with someone in plain clothes; I’m obviously trying to further my career by sleeping my way to the top.’
‘Is that what they’re saying?’
‘Yes. When Harry Blythe went out with DS Hobbs last year, nobody said a dicky-bird. In fact, he received pats on the back all round.’
Finn noticed how suddenly distracted Natasha seemed. She’d lost all impetus in the search as she dwelled on the taunts she was receiving.
‘Have you spoken to your sergeant about it?’
‘What’s the point? She’s just as bad.’
‘I could have a word with DS Mills if you like. She can’t stand all this bullying in the workplace. She’d know exactly what to do.’
‘I’m frightened of looking into promotion in case people think I’ve only been accepted because of who I’m dating. I really like Rory. I’ve been out with a few headcases in my time, and I’ve got the scars to show for it, but Rory, well, he’s …’
She didn’t get to finish as she tripped on the root of an oak tree, lost her balance and fell. She slipped down a small embankment and into a dried-up river bed.
‘Natasha? Nat?’ Finn called from above. He didn’t receive a reply.
He edged his way down slowly, taking extra care where he stepped, and using each tree to steady himself so he didn’t take the quicker, but more painful route, to the bottom.
He found Natasha sitting upright, leaning against the truck of a mighty oak. She was nursing her ankle and looking straight ahead. Her face was muddy and grazed where she’d collided with a branch on her way down.
‘Natasha, are you all right? Have you hurt yourself?’
She didn’t reply. She stayed staring straight ahead, her expression blank, her eyes wide. He turned around to see what she was fixated on and almost fell over at the shock.
Upside down, legs entwined in the roots of a tree sticking out of the embankment, head almost touching the dry riverbed, was the cold dead body of Keeley Armitage.
Chapter 25
By the time Matilda Darke arrived at Stannington, dusk had fallen, and a stiff wind was blowing the storm straight for Sheffield. She edged her way down the embankment towards the awkwardly positioned white tent protecting what little trace forensic evidence nature hadn’t already destroyed. The surrounding area was lit up like an alien invasion as blue-suited forensic officers began fine-tooth combing the vicinity.
Matilda’s heart sank. This was not the result she had envisioned. She wanted nothing more than to drive to the Armitages’s house on Acorn Drive, open the back door and have Keeley jump out and run into the arms of her tearful parents.
‘Are you all right?’ Christian asked her as he handed over a forensic suit for her to put on over her clothes.
‘No. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be.’
He gave a sympathetic smile. ‘I know I shouldn’t say this, but at least it’s a result. There’ll be no endless anxious waiting for the phone to ring or a police car to pull up outside. They’ll be able to grieve.’
‘I’ve failed,’ she said, struggling to hold on to her emotions. She turned her back on the forensic tent. She didn’t want anyone from her team to see her cry like this.
‘You haven’t failed.’
‘She’s dead, isn’t she?’ she said, raising her voice. ‘This isn’t a positive result, Christian. It may be a conclusion, but it’s the wrong one.’
‘Look, you don’t know what happened. Until we have all the facts of the case, we can’t say how we could have performed any better. Nothing is straightforward. She could have been dead before her parents called us. We’ve already said the whole kidnapping thing was a hoax; maybe it’s the parents who killed her and wanted to throw us off the scent.’
She looked up at Christian. He was upset by the situation, that was obvious. He also had children of a similar age to Keeley, he would feel it more than anyone, but he was being the consummate professional as always, and keeping his emotions in check.
Matilda took a deep breath and headed towards the tent. The flaps were pulled back for her and she ducked as she entered. She couldn’t see the body as Adele Kean and her technician, Lucy Dauman, were bent over it. A part of her was clinging to the hope that this body did not belong to Keeley Armitage and perhaps another child had fallen and succumbed to an accident. A few more seconds of ignorance were bliss.