Marcy held out her arm by way of reply. She knew the drill, which was a relief for Callie, and for the officer involved, as ruling out any nasty diseases would at least give them some peace of mind, provided Marcy tested negative, of course. The custody sergeant had told her the officer in question had already been sent to the hospital for his own blood tests and to have the wound cleaned up, and Callie knew he would also be offered preventative medication whilst they awaited the results, just in case Marcy had infected him with anything.
“Why did you do it, Marcy? Think of that poor officer and his family.”
Marcy hung her head in shame and didn’t even flinch as Callie took the blood sample.
“Sometimes, I just lose it, you know?” she explained.
“You need to get yourself sorted out, Marcy, once and for all.”
“Easier said than done, Doc.” Marcy hesitated. “I don’t suppose you can give me something? I’m going to be here a while, I reckon.”
Callie wrote her up for some methadone to see her through and left her, looking resigned to her fate. Optimists would say that if she was sent to prison it would be her opportunity to get clean, but Callie knew that wasn’t the case. Drugs were just as readily available inside as they were on the street.
Feeling thoroughly depressed, Callie walked up the stairs to the incident room so she could tell them her information about the girl in person.
There was a buzz of excitement in the room that told Callie something had happened, and glancing over at the whiteboard, she saw a tentative name next to the dead girl’s photograph: Michelle Carlisle.
DC Nugent bustled up to the whiteboard as she watched and stuck another photograph next to the first. It showed a younger Michelle, pouting for a selfie. It was undoubtedly the same girl and Callie was both happy that they had identified her, and sad for the family that would now know that she was dead.
Callie intercepted the detective as he returned to his desk.
“What do we know about her, Nigel?” she asked him.
“Hello, Dr Hughes.” He blushed as he spoke. “Michelle Carlisle was eighteen, family home in Bolton. She was reported missing three years ago after she apparently ran away to London with a friend. The friend came back a few weeks later, but Michelle chose to stay. The family say there’s been nothing heard of her since.”
“Same old story,” Jeffries said from just behind her, making her jump. “Preferred selling herself on the streets to being rogered for free by her stepdad at home.”
He was right, it wasn’t an uncommon story, but it was still a sad one.
“Nothing on the man?” she asked, knowing that if there had been any news, it would have been written on the board.
“Still checking out a few possible leads,” Nugent said. “But none of them are looking promising.”
“Which might suggest he was one of the traffickers and nothing to do with the girl.”
Callie turned to Miller who had come out of his office to join in the conversation.
“Except that she was looking for him.” That certainly got their attention.
“What?”
“I bumped into a patient this morning who told me that she had been showing a picture of a man around, asking if anyone had seen him. Said he was from London.” She petered out as Miller seemed to be going quite red in the face.
“If you could come into my office, Dr Hughes, I’d like to hear the details. Now!”
He turned on his heel and walked into his office. Callie could feel every eye in the room on her as she hesitated. On the one hand, he had no right to speak to her like that, particularly in front of a room full of colleagues, but on the other hand, she had information she wanted him to have as quickly as possible. She also wanted to convey it in a way that didn’t land David Morris in even more trouble than he was in already. She followed him and as he sat behind his desk, chose to stand opposite him. Needless to say, Jeffries had followed her in and closed the door behind him.
“Why haven’t you told us this before?” Miller demanded.
“Because it only happened this morning, on my way to work,” she responded, tight-lipped and furious with him for being so unnecessarily rude.
Miller wiped his face with his hands and she could see how tired he was, and she relented, sitting down in the visitor chair. He really did seem angry and Callie wondered if perhaps he had just told his senior officer that he didn’t think the two were connected and would now have to change his report. Maybe she should have found the time to speak to him before.
“I came in as soon as I could, but got waylaid by the custody sergeant. So here I am, telling you now.”
“And what exactly are you telling us?”
“This man, my patient, said that the girl in the photograph, Michelle Carlisle, was in the Fishermen’s Club showing round a photograph of a man and asking if anyone had seen him. She claimed he was her boyfriend and he was missing.”
“And the photo she was showing round was of the man we know as body nine?”
“He doesn’t know. He didn’t look at the picture, but it’s a bit of a coincidence, isn’t it?”
“And he’s sure it was her?”
“Absolutely.”
“We’ll need to speak to him. Confirm it all.”
Callie hesitated; this is where it got difficult.
“This is a murder enquiry,” he reminded her.
“I’m perfectly well aware of that,” she snapped back. “It was David Morris.”
