He held out the photos. ‘Her name is Haweeo Salat. This is our runaway Somalian kid – one of those we rescued from the container. She preferred to call herself Primrose. Pen and I are going to have a chat with the couple who run this place. Primrose lived here for almost six months, so they know her better than anyone. But she could have had friends or been known to any of the neighbours. So, yes, Glen, I want you and John to go out there and ask questions. I want to know where this girl fled to when she ran away. I also want to know who her closest friends were.’
Ashton responded with a surly shrug of compliance. DC Hunt could barely conceal the smirk thinning his lips. ‘Come on, Glen,’ he said. ‘Get down and dirty with us mere plebs.’
For the best part of a decade, Eamonn and Dottie Wilkey had run the halfway house for young and single asylum seekers who were awaiting legal formalities and judgements. A cheerful couple in their late fifties, they led Bliss and Chandler into the vast kitchen, and Eamonn set about making them a hot drink each. The two detectives pulled out chairs at a huge dining table made from reclaimed and treated railway sleepers, which was laid out for twelve people.
‘I take it you’re full as per usual,’ Bliss said, indicating the place settings.
‘And then some,’ Dottie replied, rolling her eyes. ‘I only wish we could take more. We’re only allowed eight at a time, even though we could probably move things around and squeeze in another couple.’
Bliss did a quick recount. ‘Eight? There’s a dozen places set.’
‘We always set a couple of spares in case friends drop by.’
‘You mentioned something about Primrose at the front door,’ Eamonn said, pulling mugs from their hooks and setting them down on the counter next to the bubbling kettle. ‘I remember you, Inspector Bliss. You popped in on the day Prim came to us. You asked about her, made sure she was settling in okay.’
Bliss nodded. ‘I felt sorry for the poor kid. She’d been separated so quickly from the other girls. Mainly because certain elements of her story had come across as weaker than others to the officials she met.’
‘Yes, she told us all about it,’ Dottie said, turning away from the tea and coffee jars to look at him. ‘Prim was not one of life’s great talkers, even though her English was pretty good. She seemed overawed by everything here, which only made her shyness that much worse.’
‘But she made friends, yes?’ Chandler asked, notepad flipped open on the table, pen tapping against it.
‘After a fashion. Excuse me for asking, but are you able to tell us what she’s done wrong? I know she ran away from us here, but I simply refuse to believe that girl was capable of breaking the law.’
‘She broke the law when she ran away,’ Bliss reminded her. ‘But that’s not why we’re here. In fact, we have no idea where she went, nor what she’s up to. I can assure you, Mr and Mrs Wilkey, if we track down Primrose and manage to speak with her as a consequence of anything said here in this room, that’s as far as it will go. All we want is some information. Her immigration status is of no concern to us or our investigation.’
‘Perhaps we can help,’ Eamonn said.
Bliss waited until the Wilkeys brought the mugs over and joined them at the table. ‘I’m hoping that’s the case. But we’d also like to talk to anybody she was close to. Close enough to share secrets with, that is.’
‘There were a couple of girls Prim was friendly with. A young man, too. But as you know, this is a transitory home for these people. Six months is about all they get, at best. Either they move on because they’ve been successful and are being settled elsewhere, or they get carted off to a more formal holding area prior to deportation.’
‘So you’re saying the people she may have been close to have long gone?’
‘Yes. And we never learn their ultimate destination. Occasionally some of them will write or drop us an e-mail, or maybe comment on our Facebook page. But I don’t recall any contact from the three I mentioned since they left us.’
Bliss had not expected this to be easy. ‘All right. So, let’s see if either of you can help. As you’re probably aware, Primrose was one of five young girls rescued from a shipping container, having been trafficked to the UK. The thing is, I gave each of them a business card so they could get hold of me if they ever landed in any trouble. One of those cards has turned up in the possession of someone other than one of the five girls. We’ve since tracked down three of them; another willingly went back to her home country, so finding out if she left her card behind is going to be almost impossible. We’re hoping to speak with Primrose or anybody who might have known she intended to run away, because there’s every chance it was she who passed her card on to another young girl.’
The Wilkeys looked at each other. Nothing other than a shared confusion passed between them, as far as Bliss could
