few days later, hungry and shamefaced. Laura had money — her parents estimated there could have been as much as thirty pounds in her purse; obviously she was not a girl who was kept
35
I
short of cash. But she had taken no clothes and no possessions with her. That was a significant factor.
And reactions had been quicker in this instance for two other reasons. One was the fact that a witness report had placed Laura Vernon talking to an unidentified young man behind her house shortly before her disappearance. Il had been the last sighting .*.
of her for nearly two days now. .T|
The other pressing reason, understated in the action file but discernible as a thread running through the reports, was the so far unsolved murder of sixteen-year-old Susan Edson in neighbouring B Division a few weeks earlier.
Everyone knew that the first two or three days of an enquiry were vital, if it did turn out to be a case of murder, or other serious crime. Within the first seventy-two hours the memories of witnesses were fresh, and the perpetrator had little time to dispose of evidence or construct an alibi. At the same time, speedy action also meant they had a better chance of finding Laura Vcrnon alive.
Fry was interested to see that a name had been offered up to police as a ‘possible’ right from the start. A youth called Lee Sherratt had been named by the parents and had been interviewed by officers in the initial sweep. He had denied being the voung man seen talking to Laura, but his alibi was
O J O O
unsupported. Sherratt’s record had been pulled from the Police National Computer — a few petty crimes, some as a juvenile. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to leave his name at the top of the file until he could be eliminated.
According to the reports, a uniformed inspector from Operational Support was now in charge of the search on the ground.
DI Paul Hitchens was CID investigating officer, reporting to
o o ‘ r o
Detective Chief Inspector Stewart Tailby. Officers had already called at every house in the village of Moorhay, since there weren’t all that many. Enquiries had been made with all known friends and relatives in the area. No sign of Laura Vcrnon, no leads to her possible whereabouts.
By now the painstaking inch-by-inch search of the surrounding countryside was well under way — off-duty officers had been called in, the search dog teams were out and the helicopter
36
was in the air. Peak Park Rangers and Countryside Rangers were helping the search, and the Mountain Rescue Team was somewhere up on the tops of the moors above the village. And, of course, Detective Constable ‘Mr Perfect’ was also out at Moorhay in person. Case solved, then.
shee had met DI Hitchens on her first day. He was her CID boss — after DS Rennie, anyway, and she had already decided Rcnnio didn’t really count. Hitchcns was younger than the sergeant, and better educated. So an early promotion; maybe he was a fast-track graduate, like herself. He would certainly be destined for higher things, and his voice would be listened to
o o ‘
by more senior officers. Fry ached to be out there, on a major enquiry, at the right hand of DI Hitchens, getting the chance to impress. She wasn’t intending to hang around looking at car crime statistics for long. A murder enquiry was just the thing. But it had come too soon, while she was still too new. Hence her presence in the office with Rennie.
In an hour or two they would have to call off the search for Laura Vernon anyway. Even in August dusk fell eventually over the hills, and the lines of men and women would disperse and wander dispiritedly home. Tomorrow there would be appeals in the papers and on TV, and civilian volunteers would be queueing up to swell the numbers of the search parties.
Fry knew she had two choices. She either coasted along and filled in time until Rennie thought fit to allocate her some tasks; or she could speak up, take the initiative, start to show what she was made of. But she held her tongue. Now was not the time — she needed to be in a stronger position. Meanwhile, DS Rennie
was not worth the effort of trying to impress.
j o r
Then the door opened and DI Hitchens put his head round. ‘Who’s here? Oh yes.’
He looked disappointed, like a captain left with the choice of the players no one wants when the teams are being chosen. Hitchens was in his shirt sleeves, with his cuffs rolled up a few inches over strong wrists covered in dark, wiry hair. He was in his thirties, and seemed to be permanently about to break into a smile. Fry caught his eye, looked from him to Rennie, who had barely moved except to shift his foot from his desk.
37
I
Hitchens nodded. ‘All right to hold the fort for a while,
Dave?’ f
‘Sir.’
Fry jumped up eagerly. ‘Where are we going, sir? Is it the
missing girl. Laura Vernon?’ i
c? o ‘ ijg
‘What else? Yes, we’ve had a find called in. We’ve got a ,,.
O flg
good man out in the field now checking it out, but it sounds §
& Z 3L.
