thinks Sasha Blake may have been meeting a boyfriend last night. Though I’m afraid she doesn’t know anything about him – no name, address, nothing.’
I hear him sigh angrily. And I can’t blame him.
‘And the Blake girl’s father – what about him?’
‘We’ve been on to West Yorkshire Police. They’re on their way round. We’re still hoping that’s where she went.’
‘Pretty shitty father to do that and not let the mother know.’
‘I know, sir. But there’s evidently no love lost between them –’
‘That’s no excuse,’ he snaps.
If you believe the station rumour mill, Harrison’s own divorce was pretty messy. Perhaps that explains it.
‘Right now, we’re just guessing, sir. It’s possible Sasha told him she’d cleared it with her mother. She seems like a sensible girl, but we know she can be economical with the truth when it suits her.’
A snort of recognition at this. He has teenage kids; he knows the territory. ‘Well, either way, I hope to God that’s where she is. And not just for her sake, either.’
For mine, too. That’s what he means.
‘So what next, Adam?’
‘If we have no luck with Leeds I’ll arrange a TV appeal with Mrs Blake.’
‘Good. And make sure it’s in time for the evening news.’
* * *
Graeme Scott is queuing to get a coffee when the head shows a man and woman into the crowded staffroom.
‘Who the hell are they?’ asks the teacher in front of him in a low voice. She only started this term – her first job out of training. Domestic science, or whatever they’re supposed to call it now. He tried talking to her once, when she arrived, just to be friendly, but she gave him the brush-off. ‘It’s not Ofsted, is it?’
Scott shakes his head. ‘No – they’d have given us notice. And in any case, those two don’t look like school inspectors to me.’
But it’s something serious all the same. That much is obvious, even before the head claps her hands and asks for silence.
‘I’m sorry to disturb you all but I’m afraid I have some worrying news. Sasha Blake of Year Eleven didn’t turn up for school today and it’s now emerged that she hasn’t been seen since last night and isn’t answering her phone. This is Detective Sergeant Gislingham and Detective Constable Everett. They’ll want to speak to Sasha’s friends and teachers, so please can you do everything you can to help them, and to support Sasha’s year group at this difficult time. Needless to say, we want to avoid any sort of panic, so it’s important we all keep calm. Keep calm and carry on, as they say.’
Graeme Scott suppresses a grimace. How bloody clichéd can you get.
The head turns to the man standing next to her. ‘Would you like to say anything, Sergeant?’
He’s stocky, barely mid-height, thinning on top; a bit ‘jolly’, Scott suspects. He’s met that type before: classic short-man syndrome. As for the woman, she’s positively dowdy. Flat shoes, hair in a mess. There’s no excuse for that, he thinks, not in this day and age.
‘Just to echo what the head said,’ says the man, glancing round the room. ‘We don’t want to cause unnecessary alarm, but it’s important we gather as much information as we can. And if any of the female pupils would prefer to talk to a woman, then DC Everett is on hand. That’s it, really.’
The bell sounds now, clanging like an air-raid siren, and the staff start to gather their things. There’s the usual sense of too much to do and too little time to do it in. But there’s an unease now, a disquiet, which is not usual at all.
And I didn’t even get a bloody coffee, thinks Scott as he shoulders his bag. The two police officers are standing by the door, apparently casual. Scott makes sure not to catch their eye.
* * *
Telephone interview with Charlie Higgins, driver, Oxford Bus Company
4 April 2018, 4.15 p.m.
On the call, DC A. Baxter
AB: Thanks for calling back, Mr Higgins. You got the message, I assume?
CH: It’s about last night, right?
AB: Specifically the bus that left Summertown at approximately 9.45. I believe you don’t have CCTV in that vehicle?
CH: No, ’fraid not. What is it you’re after?
AB: I’m going to text you some photos. Can you tell me if you recognize any of the people in them?
[muffled sounds in the background, then Higgins returns to the phone]
CH: I do remember a big bunch of kids on that run. Some of ’em were foreign. And a lot of