Chapter 31
Chapter 31
Grasping the door handle, Helen took a breath, then pushed inside.
Immediately, several surprised faces looked up. It was unusual for CID officers to frequent the men’s locker rooms and rarer still for those officers to be female. Helen’s unexpected arrival provoked much scrambling, as officers hauled up their trousers and pulled on shirts, partly to save themselves from embarrassment, but also to show due respect to a senior officer.
‘As you were,’ Helen said, suppressing a smile as she made her way past the startled constables. ‘There’s nothing here that I could possibly wish to see.’
There was laughter from the assembled officers, followed by a brief cry of ‘too right’, as the throng returned to their conversations, readying themselves for another challenging day. Pressing on, Helen made her way through the cloistered space towards the rear of the room, where she spotted PC Dave Reynolds getting changed into his uniform. Though relatively short for a police constable, the experienced officer nevertheless cut a lean, athletic figure, well toned after numerous charity runs in aid of less fortunate colleagues. He appeared totally unfazed by Helen’s sudden appearance this morning, tugging on his shirt as he turned to his superior officer with a broad, friendly smile.
‘Morning, ma’am. To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?’ he asked, buttoning up his shirt.
‘I just wanted another quick word with you about our missing teen, Naomi Watson.’
‘Of course. Happy to help. Though I’m afraid none of the guys on the beat have seen hide nor hair of her yet.’
‘That’s what I wanted to raise with you,’ Helen continued, her tone serious now. ‘I had a quick chat with your probationer yesterday … and she seems pretty convinced that you did encounter Naomi Watson on the night she went missing. Would have been about 9 p.m., just before you clocked off? PC Beamer was patting down a dealer, but her bodycam shows you talking to a young homeless woman who matches Naomi’s description.’
Slowly, a frown spread across Reynolds’ face. But whether this was caused by anger at Beamer for telling tales or confusion at Helen’s assertion was unclear.
‘Right … and this would have been Thursday night?’ Reynolds said hesitantly, scrolling back to that day.
‘That’s correct. I’ve seen the footage and it appears you chatted to Naomi for a minute or two, presumably checking whether she was OK, whether there was anywhere she could go?’
‘Well, I guess it’s possible, ’ Reynolds conceded amiably. ‘You know what the city is like at the moment and that part of town in particular. You’re falling over the homeless down there.’
‘But it doesn’t ring any bells? You can’t remember what you spoke to her about?’
Reynolds was already shaking his head gravely, looking annoyed with himself.
‘To be honest, I’m struggling to place her at all. I’m not being funny, but you meet so many of these folk and they’ve all got the same tale of woe.’
‘It’s just that Naomi’s quite striking,’ Helen persisted. ‘The colour of her hair, the way she dresses, I’d have thought she’d make an impression. And it was only two days ago …’
‘Honestly, ma’am, I wish I could help, especially if you think the poor girl’s in danger,’ Reynolds replied, crestfallen. ‘And if I’ve made a mistake, I’ll hold my hands up to that. But to be truthful, all these faces blur into one another after a while.’
‘Unlike you though, Dave,’ Helen countered. ‘You’re known as having the sharpest eyes and ears on the street. A guy who really knows his patch, who’s adept at spotting new faces amongst the throng. I would have thought your chat with Naomi would have registered a little more?’
And now Reynolds’ expression changed slightly, something in Helen’s dogged persistence, her keen, accusatory tone, clearly irking him.
‘Well, look, if anything comes to me, then obviously I’ll let you know straightaway,’ he responded, retrieving his jacket from his locker and slipping it on. ‘In the meantime, the best thing I – and all the lads here – can do is get out on the street, see if we can track Naomi down, get her home safe.’
‘Sure thing, don’t let me stand in your way,’ Helen replied cheerfully, making no attempt to get out of his way.
For a moment, Reynolds looked surprised, even confounded, as if some silent challenge had been thrown down. Then, turning away from her, he pushed his locker door shut. As he did so, however, Helen clocked something. A raised, red mark on his right hand that looked very much like a bite.
‘Done yourself a mischief, PC Reynolds?’
Surprised, Reynolds followed her gaze to his injury.
‘Looks nasty. Fresh, is it?’ Helen persisted.
A moment’s hesitation, then Reynolds scowled.
‘Bloody dog bite. Some idiot let their boxer have a go at my Willow. I had to pull the wretched thing off, got a nasty bite for my pains.’
‘I’m sorry to hear that. I trust you reported the owner and the dog to front desk when you got in this morning?’
‘What would be the point?’ Reynolds replied quickly. ‘Didn’t get the guy’s name and we’d hardly have the resources to follow it up, would we?’
‘Even so,’ Helen replied evenly. ‘We can’t expect the public to do the right thing if we don’t lead by example, can we?’
‘Spot on,’ Reynolds replied, conceding the point with a little bow. ‘I’ll be sure to make a report on my way out this morning. Now will that be all or …?’
Smiling, Helen stepped aside, letting the PC pass. But as he walked away, Helen’s smile faded. The experienced police constable had been polite, deferential and seemingly surprised by her accusations, yet somehow his responses hadn’t rung true, a tension, a hostility seeming to lurk beneath his bland responses. Helen had come here this morning hoping to be proved wrong, to quell that nagging feeling in her gut, yet she had achieved the exact opposite. Try as she might, Helen couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something off about PC Dave Reynolds.