Alice Teale is Missing Read online

  Howard Linskey

  * * *

  ALICE TEALE IS MISSING

  Contents

  Introduction

  The Journal of Alice Teale

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  The Journal of Alice Teale

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  The Journal of Alice Teale

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  The Journal of Alice Teale

  Chapter 10

  The Journal of Alice Teale

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  The Journal of Alice Teale

  Chapter 16

  The Journal of Alice Teale

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  The Journal of Alice Teale

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  The Journal of Alice Teale

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  The Journal of Alice Teale

  The Journal of Alice Teale

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Chapter 53

  The Journal of Alice Teale

  Chapter 54

  The Journal of Alice Teale

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  H. A. Linskey is originally from Ferryhill in County Durham, but now lives in Hertfordshire with his wife and daughter. Under Howard Linskey, he is the author of a series of crime novels set in the North-East, featuring detective Ian Bradshaw and journalists Tom Carney and Helen Norton.

  This one is for my wonderful daughter, Erin,

  who makes everything worthwhile

  You had to wear gloves, always, otherwise they would catch you. The sender knew that. It made the whole exercise more difficult, though, because it deadened the sensation in the fingertips and it was harder to turn the individual pages of the journal, so it was a slow and frustrating process.

  The surgical gloves had been a better idea. They were thinner and it was much easier to turn each page then read the words written there.

  The sender devoured them.

  Some of them were truly shocking. How did the girl know all this? She was like a spy.

  There were words on the pages that frightened the sender and others that exhilarated or teased with their promise of forbidden knowledge. There were passages of text filled with love for others and writing so cruel and mean-spirited it was hard to imagine they were written by the same person, let alone a teenage girl.

  Parts of the journal were true, the sender knew this, but there were other sections that were impossible to verify and some that had to be little more than wild speculation.

  What was needed here was a passage that could be sent to the right person, a page or two that would have sufficient impact, like striking a match. Something that would burn this whole town down.

  It took some considerable time to find the right words, but worthwhile things took effort. You only got out of life what you were prepared to put into it.

  Eventually, the solution was obvious.

  Begin at the end.

  The final entry.

  The sender made a decision then and pressed a hand against one side of the opened journal, trapping it against the table so that the pages couldn’t move. Taking hold of the opposite page firmly, they tore it free. The page gave way surprisingly easily and came out cleanly. Heart thumping, the sender re-read it once more and experienced the excitement of knowing it was about to trigger a series of events no one could ignore. There would be further pages from the journal that could follow after, but the first one was the most important. Time could be taken, then, to read through it all again and tease out the right extracts to share.

  All the sender had to do now was put this first extract in an envelope and help it on its way.

  Then the game could start.

  The Journal of Alice Teale

  Every word I have written here is true, but I’ve changed the names to protect the guilty. There are a lot of guilty people. It’s a town full of secrets. I can’t out everybody.

  I’m guilty, too. I’ve done some very bad things. I’ve hurt people, I’ve been immoral, by most people’s standards, but mostly I am guilty of not seeing what was right in front of me. It should have been so obvious because it was there all the time. I have been entirely blind.

  Until now.

  Everything has changed. Now I can see it all clearly, view things exactly as they really are, with no secrets, lies or pretence. It’s all been stripped away, and nothing will ever be the same again. The old Alice Teale is dead. She is gone for ever, along with her stupid doubts and fears and all the secrets she has carried around with her for so long. What remains of her is not going to take it any more. I want everything out in the open.

  Not yet, though. There’s something I need first.

  Keep your sharp tongue in check, Alice, for once in your stupid bloody life, and carry on for just a little while longer, acting out all the parts, like you’ve always done.

  Daughter, sister, girlfriend, friend.

  But you’ve not been very good at any of those lately.

  Worker, pupil … Little Miss Perfect.

  But it’s all unravelling now.

  Virgin, good girl, ice queen, geek.

  Hot babe, slut, disgusting freak!

  Who cares what they think of you, Alice? None of that matters now.

  It’s all over.

  At least, it will be.

  Soon.

  1

  Six days ago

  The girl left the school by the main entrance, which was why Miss Pearce saw her leave. Her vantage point was the first-floor staff-room window. Normally, this would have been a busy and noisy spot, with younger pupils shoving and shoulder-charging each other as they bottlenecked through the doors and were finally forced out by sheer weight of numbers, but school had been over for hours now. Only a handful of kids remained, finishing off the numerous sporting activities and after-school clubs Collemby Comprehensive School had become known for under its strict but progressive headteacher, who believed that education was not confined to regular school hours or mere academic qualifications. ‘We are not only training young people to pass exams,’ he would remind his staff earnestly, ‘we are preparing them for life.’

  Was it still a bit late for a kid to be leaving, even if she was a sixth-former? It was quite light, with the summer almost here; a little more than a month to go before they broke up for six glorious weeks of holiday. The PE teacher glanced at her watch. Almost nine o’clock; the activities she’d presided over had finished half an hour ago. She had only stayed behind herself because she knew she’d never make it to the bus stop in time and couldn’t face standing there for an hour waiting for the next one. She had gone up to the empty staff room, flicked on the kettle and ph
oned Rob, her fiancé, to ask if he could come and pick her up. He hadn’t sounded too happy about that. ‘I’m tired, too, Jessica,’ he’d told her, ‘it’s been a long day,’ but he’d eventually agreed to drive out and get her, albeit with bad grace.

  He must have taken his time leaving their flat because there was still no sign of him and she had drunk most of her tea. Jessica Pearce watched the road from the big window to make sure she didn’t miss him. As she waited, she remembered the promise he had made when they first got together. ‘I would do anything for you,’ he’d assured her. ‘Anything.’ Now, seven years on, it seemed a fifteen-minute drive was too much trouble. She wondered if this was how everyone ended up once they’d got beyond the dating stage and moved in together?

  She looked back at the girl. You could tell it was Alice Teale, even from the back and this vantage point. The sixth-former was a distinctive figure with her trademark hooded Oasis-style green parka and floppy red shoulder-bag.

  Alice Teale was a girl you would notice, even when you were a straight woman like Jessica. The boys certainly noticed Alice. They were queueing up for her. The girl’s face was ridiculously pretty and she had an almost equine grace about her when she walked, though, just as she thought that, Jessica noticed the teenager stumble slightly, possibly under the weight of the bag.

  Further thoughts on Alice Teale were broken by the sight of two cars that passed each other. One of them was driven by Simon Nash, the young drama teacher. Simon had squeezed his frame into his car and pulled out of the car park then driven away towards the town, just as Rob suddenly appeared, heading in the opposite direction, towards the school, in his silver Fiat, which he slowed almost to a halt before guiding it across the road and in through the entrance to the school car park.

  Jessica Pearce bent to grab her bag.

  She turned back to the window in time to see Rob walking on to the long, straight path that led to the school, just as Alice Teale reached the far end of it. They might have collided with each other if he hadn’t stepped out of her way. Silly girl had her head down and probably wasn’t looking where she was going.

  Jessica Pearce waved then and Rob looked up, caught her eye, but did not return the wave. Instead, he stopped in his tracks, so she knew he had no intention of wasting any more time by walking into the building.

  In her haste to meet him she forgot all about Alice, who must have passed between the retirement cottages that lay just beyond the school’s boundary, as she could no longer be seen.

  No one knew it at the time but that glimpse Miss Pearce had of the sixth-former would be the last recorded sighting of the girl, before the word went out the next day.

  Alice Teale was missing.

  Alice Teale was gone.

  2

  DC Beth Winter tried to leave quietly and discreetly without anyone noticing, but it was a forlorn hope. Anne Hudson spotted her as she finished clearing the last items from her desk, dropping them without ceremony into a plastic bag. If only Beth had been a bit quicker, she could have been out of there, avoiding the inquisition that was heading her way.

  Anne was a fellow fast-tracker from the direct-entry scheme, which meant that she, like Beth, had never walked the beat or spent a working day in uniform. Instead, they had both joined the Northumbria police force as detectives – trainee ones, at any rate – and had endured a two-year training programme before finally passing the National Investigator’s exam. On the face of it, they had something in common. They were female, of roughly the same age and background and both yet to prove themselves on a major case. That’s how it worked on direct entry: you had to earn your place investigating minor crimes as part of your probation. That time was coming to an end and they were both eager to get out and join a squad working on something bigger than burglaries on the industrial estate. There had been three of them to begin with, but Peter Kennedy had already been nabbed by an undermanned DI. He was a good candidate and a nice bloke, but Beth knew she was every bit as good as him and was disappointed, though not surprised, that the only male in their intake had been the first to be snapped up.

  ‘I heard your news,’ said Anne. ‘Transferred to DCI Everleigh’s squad. Well done you!’ That last bit was a little too loud and the smile forced.

  ‘Thanks … erm … they must be desperate.’ If Beth thought self-deprecation was going to get her off the hook, she was mistaken.

  ‘I suppose it’s only a missing person,’ Anne said slyly.

  ‘It could be a murder’ – Beth couldn’t help but rise to it – ‘they think.’

  ‘Who does?’

  ‘Everleigh and his people, apparently.’

  ‘They haven’t found a body.’

  ‘Not yet,’ said Beth. ‘You seem to know a lot about it?’ she added, meaning that Anne obviously wanted to be the one added to DCI Everleigh’s squad.

  Anne ignored this. ‘Still, it’s good news for you, a chance to shine. You’ll be great …’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘… if you can cope with you-know-who.’

  The bombshell. There was always going to be one from Anne. This must be it.

  ‘Sorry?’

  ‘His DS?’ She said that as if a) it was obvious and b) Beth must have forgotten who this mysterious DS was.

  Beth thought for a second. How could she answer this in a way that would completely ruin Anne’s fun? Pretend she knew who the other girl was referring to and laugh off the man’s foibles? If she did, she might run the risk of belatedly learning she was about to work with a serial groper. Alternatively, Beth could ask Anne outright what she was talking about, which would make her seem less than clued up – never a good look for a detective, especially a new one. Anne would love that. Instead, she went for the middle ground.

  ‘Which one?’ she asked.

  ‘You mean you don’t know?’ replied Anne. She was obviously loving this. Well, let her enjoy her tiny victory. Anne wasn’t the one being transferred to a real case. Soon Beth might be on the trail of a murderer while her mean-spirited colleague would be back investigating the industrial-estate burglaries.

  ‘I’ve only just heard I’m going to be working for Everleigh,’ Beth said, as sweetly as possible. ‘I haven’t had time to find out who else is working for him.’

  ‘Call yourself a detective,’ trilled Anne, and Beth wanted to thump her, right there and then, in headquarters, and in the face, but she told herself not to react. ‘You’ll be seeing a lot more of his DS than you will of DCI Everleigh,’ she added. ‘You do know that’s how it works, right?’

  Beth lost patience then. ‘I know how it works, Anne. If you know the DS I’ll be paired with, then why don’t you just tell me? I know you’re dying to.’

  ‘All right, Grumpy’ – that smile again, the one that allowed Anne to pretend she was only teasing and not being bitchy because she was jealous – ‘but brace yourself.’ She took a breath. ‘You’ve got DS Black.’ And when Beth didn’t react, because she didn’t know the man at all, Anne added, ‘DS Lucas Black,’ and she tilted her head to one side then surveyed her colleague, looking for some sort of recognition, as if Beth had accidentally slept with the bloke at the last Christmas party then completely forgotten about him.

  ‘I don’t really know him,’ conceded Beth. There were dozens of detective sergeants in the Northumbria police force, for God’s sake.

  ‘Well, he’s a nightmare.’

  ‘In what way?’ She wanted to add, Spit it out, woman!

  ‘Can’t believe you haven’t heard …’

  ‘Look, Anne, whatever it is, it can’t be that bad or he wouldn’t still be employed here. If he’s a bit handsy, I’ll deal with it – I’ll report him or break one of his fingers. Whatever else it could be, I’ll manage. So, you know, don’t worry about me.’

  When Anne replied this time, her tone was mock-casual. ‘Oh, okay, whatever you say, Beth. I’m sure it’ll all be fine. It’s just, you know, Lucas Black has …’ She exhaled then, delaying the p
leasure of her answer. ‘How can I put this? … Actually killed someone, that’s all.’

  3

  ‘What do you mean, he’s killed someone?’ asked Beth, but she didn’t get an answer.

  Instead, their boss shouted across the room at her colleague, ‘DC Hudson, stop gassing and get back on those burglaries! They won’t solve themselves.’ DI Curran was a man who seemed to resent the very presence of direct entrants in his squad, almost as much as the low-level crimes he was tasked to investigate these days, now that his career had seemingly plateaued. Only a few days ago, Beth had personally witnessed him getting very drunk at a fellow DI’s retirement do. He had stood in the beer garden loudly telling everyone that DI Monaghan was ‘a lucky bastard because he wouldn’t have to put up with any more shit’. Not that he was bitter, of course.

  He turned to Beth then. ‘And DC Winter?’

  ‘Yes, sir?’

  ‘Why are you still here?’ he asked wearily. ‘I mean, if you don’t want to go and do this missing-persons case, we can always keep you …’

  ‘On my way now, sir.’ And she was, but when she glanced back at Anne, who was busying herself with a phone call, it was her words that stayed with Beth.

  ‘Come in, DC Winter,’ ordered DCI Everleigh. He’d seen her approach his open office door and was, thankfully, expecting her. He was young for a detective chief inspector and Beth had heard he was both ambitious and on the rise. This was her first actual interaction with the man, though, and she was keen not to blow it.

  ‘Welcome to the team.’ He smiled at her.

  ‘Thank you, sir.’

  ‘Have you met DS Black?’ He gestured towards a tall, stocky man with dark hair who was standing in front of him. He was in his late thirties or perhaps early forties, and he stared back at Beth without making any effort to welcome her. So, this was the apparently infamous DS Black. Beth confirmed they hadn’t met before but that she was pleased to be working with him now. Oddly, he still said nothing, as if he either couldn’t be bothered with pleasantries or didn’t see any value in them; instead, he dipped his head for the merest second to acknowledge her presence then turned back to the DCI. In the briefest of pauses, she couldn’t help but think again about what Anne had said.