losing your job once and for all.’
‘Thanks.’
‘Don’t thank me, thank Conrad. He rang me earlier. He’s the one who convinced me to help you. He’s a good man, Jack. You’re lucky to have him on your side.’
‘Yeah, I know. What did he say?’
‘Enough,’ answered Amelia.
Brady didn’t say anything.
‘Do not screw up and involve me,’
‘Thank you, Amelia. I owe you one,’ Brady replied, relieved.
‘This is against my better judgement, Jack. And I’m not doing this as your colleague, I’m doing this because I care about what happens to you. Even if you don’t.’
Amelia held his eye as she waited for a response.
But typically, Brady didn’t say a word. Instead he uncomfortably broke away from her gaze.
She knew why. She’d read the files from his childhood and knew better than anyone why he couldn’t deal with emotion. Why, when offered the chance of something good, he would inevitably end up running from it for fear of destroying it. But there was something about him, a vulnerability that meant she couldn’t resist wanting to help him. Despite her better judgement.
‘Amelia, I … I …’ began Brady.
But Amelia was already gathering up her bag and phone.
‘Save it, Jack. For when you actually mean it,’ she said as she stood up to leave.
Before he had a chance to say anything she was already walking away.
Brady made his way back to his office. He was cursing his stupidity at leaving his car keys on his desk. He needed to be somewhere and fast. And the last place he wanted to be was wandering around the station when Adamson was looking for blood: his blood.
He grabbed his keys off the desk as someone knocked on the door.
‘Yeah?’ Brady called out distractedly.
Conrad walked in.
‘Sir?’ Conrad greeted, surprised that Brady looked as if he was going somewhere.
‘I’ve got a meeting to go to, Conrad,’ answered Brady. ‘This won’t take long, will it?’
‘You wanted an update on the missing girl, sir.’
‘What have you got?’
‘I’ve just spoken to Harvey, sir.’
Brady sighed as he agitatedly ran his hand through his hair. ‘Can it wait?’
‘You might want to hear this,’ replied Conrad.
Brady sat down.
‘Does she fit the body type?’ he asked, cutting to the chase.
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Go on,’ he instructed, aware that he was going to be late. And the person he was meeting wouldn’t hang around.
‘Well, she’s been missing since Thursday morning, sir,’ answered Conrad. ‘Didn’t turn up at school.’
‘So why wait until now to report her missing?’
‘Harvey said her parents weren’t overly concerned until they saw the news this morning about our murder victim. Panicked them. They tried calling her mobile, but she’s not answering.’
‘Where did they think she’s been since Thursday? I mean, this is Saturday for Christ’s sake.’
‘Parents believed that she’d been staying at a friend’s house. It seems her younger sister’s been covering for her. The missing girl’s called Melissa Ryecroft and unbeknown to her parents she was allegedly approached by a model agency scout on her Facebook wall last Sunday. Said he could get her in front of a top model agency in London if she was prepared to move fast. Said he’d arrange a meeting with them which was supposed to have been scheduled for 10am Friday. He also said he’d meet her in London on the Thursday. All of this was arranged without her parents’ knowledge. They had no idea about this model agency or scout. As I said, they believed she was staying over at a girlfriend’s house. They had no idea what she was getting involved in.’
Brady looked sceptically at Conrad.
‘And they haven’t heard from her since she left for London on Thursday?’
Conrad nodded. ‘The model agency scout doesn’t exist either. But the model agency he said he’s booked in with does exist. However, when Harvey contacted them they hadn’t heard of Melissa and had no meeting booked with either her or some model scout. Seems it was a scam, sir. Models 1 agency said they don’t work with external model scouts. They did say this isn’t unusual and that there’s a lot of people out there scamming money from wannabe models.’
Brady had a bad feeling that this wasn’t about scamming Melissa Ryecroft out of her own money. It was about making money out of her body; and not as a model.
‘Any distinguishing features, or marks on her body?’ Brady asked.
‘Same height and body type. And she’s also had a breast augmentation job.’
‘How old is she?’
‘Sixteen and currently studying at Tynemouth King’s School in their lower sixth form.’
‘Sixteen with fake breasts? How the hell did she pay for those and get legal consent?’
He couldn’t believe the way society was evolving. Reality TV like
‘King’s is a private school, sir. Means her parents have money. They gave their consent and paid for the breast augmentation as a sixteenth birthday present. Took her abroad on holiday to Budapest allegedly.’
‘What the fuck is the world coming to, Conrad, when parents teach their daughters that all their self-worth is tied up in looking like a bloody porn star?’
‘Parents said she wanted to be a model, sir. Like Jordan, or should I say Katie Price,’ answered Conrad uncomfortably.
‘What happened to kids growing up wanting to be a doctor or a lawyer? Tell me, Conrad, when did being a topless model or a lap dancer become a girl’s ultimate goal in life?’
Conrad didn’t reply.
He knew there was nothing he could say that would snap his boss out of his diatribe about Western society’s ills. He was also well aware that the young, headless woman lying cut open in the morgue had deeply affected Brady. As had Simone Henderson’s attack.
Brady sighed as he stood up, trying not to wince as a searing pain in his ribs kicked off.
‘I need a copy of the parents’ statement on my desk by the time I get back,’ he ordered, clutching his car keys.
‘Don’t you just want me to drive you?’ asked Conrad. ‘You don’t look so good, sir.’
‘I’m fine, Conrad. Just some bruising, that’s all.’
Conrad clearly didn’t believe him.
‘Look, it’s better if you’re not involved,’ replied Brady uneasily.
He wasn’t good at lying; especially where Conrad was concerned.
‘Sir?’
Brady couldn’t look him in the eye. Instead he turned and walked to the door. He opened it and waited for Conrad.
His deputy didn’t move. Brady realised he was clearly waiting for an explanation.
‘Trust me on this, will you? Anyway, I need you to trace this serial number taken from the victim’s silicone implants,’ Brady said, offering the piece of paper that Harold, Wolfe’s assistant, had given him.
‘Why?’
‘It could identify our victim. And I want that information before I talk to the missing girl’s parents. Saves us all a lot of time.’
Conrad reluctantly walked over to him and took the paper.
