Vanish Without Trace by Bill Kitson

Author:Bill Kitson [Kitson, Bill]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Joffe Books crime thrillers
Published: 2019-10-01T22:00:00+00:00

chapter eleven

Clara arrived early at Nash’s flat. She parked outside, expecting him to come straight out, but after a few minutes waiting, she sighed and went to ring the doorbell. Nash answered the door. She looked at him and started laughing. He was naked from the waist up, one half of his face covered in shaving soap. ‘Come in and wipe that grin off your face,’ he grumbled.

When they drove away, Clara asked, ‘Where are we heading for, exactly?’

Nash opened the file. ‘We’ve a fair drive ahead of us. Barkston Frome, that’s the name of the village. It’s between Lincoln and Grantham. Unfortunately, the DS who was to have met us left a message on my voicemail. He’s giving evidence this morning, but he’s given the file to their DI and we’re welcome to pop in and look at it.’

They made good time on the journey, called at the local police station, and arrived a few minutes before the scheduled time for their appointment. The road was a cul-de-sac; number 11, a small, neat semi. The garden looked as tidy as the house. Nash was reminded of Joan Kelly’s house. He was looking for similarities in the lifestyle of the missing girls. Here was one, albeit a tiny one.

‘Quick refresher before we go in. Julie Cummings disappeared in November 1991, when she was eighteen. She was a student at Grantham Technical College. In good health, wasn’t in a relationship, nor had she been. Last seen leaving college after an evening class; intending to catch a train back to Barkston Frome. She wasn’t sighted at either station, or on the train. She was never seen again.’

Nash laid the file on his lap as he pondered what he’d just read.

‘Probably the most significant fact is that she wasn’t seen on the train.’

‘How do you mean?’

‘Julie was strikingly attractive. Not someone people would miss. The train was at 20.25 and was a local service. It was a wet night, mid November. If the train was a quarter full, I’d be surprised. Passengers would probably have remembered her if the train had been packed, certain to have done so if it was almost empty.’

‘What do you deduce from that?’

‘I very much doubt if Julie got on that train. In fact, I don’t think she even reached Grantham station.’

As Nash was thinking, he saw the bright sunlight of the afternoon fade. He visualized a rainy November night as he waited in the car. The meagre light from a street lamp glistened on the rainsoaked tarmac. Ahead of him a modern, two storey-brick building, functional in design like a hospital, a school, or a college. He let out a sigh. He was sure now, certain of exactly what had happened to Julie Cummings.

‘Mike?’ The single word was sharp with concern. Nash blinked and looked at Mironova. She was staring at him. ‘You alright?’

‘He was waiting for her,’ Nash whispered, ‘waiting in his car, outside the college. He was waiting because he knew she’d be there. He sat there in the street.

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