and the long shiny auburn hair. She’d certainly been an attractive young woman, feminine and delicate. He tried not to think of her as the collection of rotting bones on Dr Clayton’s mortuary slab. There was still a chance that they weren’t Ellie Loman’s and the bracelet had been lost or discarded, but Horton knew in his gut it was her. But was her death connected with Salacia’s?
Trueman continued. ‘Right, here we are.’ Horton returned and stood hovering by Trueman’s side, while Eames rose and moved close to him. Reading from the screen Trueman said, ‘Ellie Loman was last seen on Sunday 1 July 2001 or rather she was heard that morning by her father, Kenneth Loman. She called up to his bedroom to say goodbye at seven twenty-five. Loman knew the exact time because he looked at the clock, surprised that she was up and out of the house so early on a Sunday. He didn’t become concerned about his daughter until later that night. He called us at twelve ten p.m. The call was logged but Loman was told she’d probably decided to stay with friends overnight and had forgotten to get in touch. She wasn’t underage or vulnerable. There was no reason to call out the guards.’
‘Did Loman know where his daughter had gone?’ asked Horton.
‘He assumed out with friends. Loman was told that if he didn’t hear from her, or she didn’t show, by the morning, to let us know. He called again on Monday at eight seventeen a.m. and a unit was despatched at ten fifteen.’
‘Had she ever done anything like this before?’
‘No. She had never been in any trouble and her parents claimed she always told them where she was going.’
‘Not this time she didn’t,’ Horton said quietly, his brain whirling with possibilities.
Trueman followed his line of thought. ‘Initially her disappearance was put down to a young woman simply leaving home, wanting a bit of fun or running off with a man.’
His words were like barbed wire in Horton’s brain. It was what they said about Jennifer.
‘And it might have stayed that way but according to this, or rather reading between the lines, it seems her father insisted her disappearance be fully investigated and he took it to the Assistant Chief Constable. They were probably in the same Lodge.’
And Jennifer had had no such influential connections, or if she did have then they certainly didn’t create a fuss. Perhaps because they wanted it kept quiet.
Trueman gave a soft whistle. ‘The ACC passed it down to CID. The investigating officer was Dean, who was then the Detective Chief Superintendent in charge of CID. He and Mike Danby, who was the DI, worked on the case.’
Danby, who now ran a private security company protecting the rich and famous. Jennifer Horton got a PC while Ellie Loman had the full weight of the CID. ‘Do you remember the case?’ he asked Trueman, pushing aside his bitterness.
‘No. I was working in Gosport CID then.’
Twelve miles’ drive around the harbour and four miles if crossing by ferry. And even if Cantelli were here Horton didn’t think he’d be able to help because if his memory served him correctly Cantelli had been working in Vice.
Trueman continued reading from the computer screen. ‘Kenneth Loman said he was recovering from a hangover and stayed in all that day. His drinking chums verified that he’d drunk heavily the night before.’
Eames said, ‘I’m surprised he remembers her calling out goodbye to him, and the time.’
‘He’s still living at the same address.’ Trueman looked up. His expression rarely registered emotion but Horton could see the glint of triumph in the sergeant’s dark eyes. ‘There’s a connection between Ellie Loman and Salacia.’
‘The main suspect in the disappearance and possible murder of Ellie Loman was the man she was believed to have been meeting that day: Rawly Willard.’
And there was only one Rawly Willard that Horton had come across recently, or rather heard of. He swiftly recalled what Patricia Harlow had told him; with disappointment he said, ‘If he’s the late Amelia Willard’s son then he can’t be Salacia’s killer because he’s dead. According to Patricia Harlow he died in 2002.’ But he had seen a flicker of something register on Gregory Harlow’s face when Eames had shown him the photograph of Salacia.
‘Check that Rawly Willard really is dead and how he died. And get everything on the Ellie Loman case,’ Horton commanded, picking up the phone. ‘Eames, you help Trueman.’ Horton punched in Uckfield’s number.
He quickly relayed the news to Uckfield, who confirmed he didn’t remember the case. He’d been working in the rape unit then. Horton said, ‘This means Salacia could have been at the crematorium for Amelia Willard’s funeral and not Woodley’s.’
‘But that doesn’t explain why Woodley had her photograph.’
It didn’t explain a great many things but Horton didn’t say that. Woodley and Reggie Thomas were both in prison in 2001 and so were Stapleton and Victor Riley.
Uckfield said, ‘I’ll call Dean and see what he remembers from the case.’ And Horton wondered if he heard a smug note in Uckfield’s voice at the thought that Dean might have cocked up, and that he might solve a case that Dean had failed to. But it was early days yet.
Horton said, ‘I’d like to re-interview Gregory Harlow. I’ll also talk to the Lomans.’ It wasn’t a job he relished but he was eager to learn as much as he could about their daughter, and probe the link between her death, Rawly Willard and his cousins Patricia and Gregory Harlow.
He tossed up whether to take Eames with him and because he wanted to and for the wrong reasons he decided to leave her assisting Trueman. He didn’t stay long enough to see whether or not she was disappointed. He doubted it. He asked Trueman to request a unit to meet him outside the Lomans’ house. He knew that it was going to be harrowing for the Lomans but better to know what had happened to your daughter than live in limbo for even more years than they had already, imagining, hoping, praying and speculating, trying to put it to the back of their mind and get on with their life while it ate away at them, turning them sour, bitter, disappointed, angry and bewildered. Or was he thinking of himself?
He pulled up outside the stone bay and forecourt terraced house, noting that it was only a few streets away from where Patricia Harlow lived. He hoped the Lomans were at home. There was a car outside but that didn’t necessarily belong to them.
The police car drew up behind it. PC Kate Somerfield climbed out.
‘Has Sergeant Trueman briefed you?’ he asked.
‘Yes.’
He could see that she was mentally preparing herself for what lay ahead. Having been the bearer of bad news several times she knew the drill, although she, like him, could never predict the reaction. He knew that she was keen to get into CID. She was also slightly wary of him because she’d been one of many female officers who had actually believed that ridiculous rape charge before he’d been exonerated.
He caught sight of a woman in the downstairs window. Mrs Loman? Probably. He hoped she wasn’t alone. No, there was a man with her. But that could be anyone, a friend, relative or new husband, though Trueman had said the Lomans still lived here, or rather Kenneth Loman did. He caught the man’s eyes and watched his casual glance swivel to the uniformed Somerfield. Within a second Horton registered surprise, dread and finally a sadness that drained the blood from the man’s face and seemed to suck the very life out of him. It stabbed at Horton’s heart before he mentally pulled himself up. He saw that there was no need to tell Kenneth Loman why they were here. He already knew.
THIRTEEN
‘You’ve found her,’ Loman said in a voice so heavy with sorrow that it made Horton’s heart ache. He felt Somerfield’s tension beside him.
Gently he replied, ‘We’ve found some remains that we believe might be Ellie’s.’
‘Remains? Yes, yes I see. It would be after all this time.’
