Chapter 16

Chapter 16

He walked alone through the underpass, cursing his fate. What had he done to deserve this?

Exiled to a run-down part of town, wasting time chasing a hapless teen runaway, who even now was probably shacked up with a friend, watching Netflix and smoking dope, utterly unaware of the fuss she was causing. DC Paul Jennings kicked out savagely at an empty coke can, sending it cannoning off the wall, before it landed next to a stray dog, who sniffed at it with mild interest before turning his attention to the police officer. Did he want a treat? A friendly pat on the head? Either way, he'd get neither. Jennings was not in a friendly mood.

Was this his fault? Had he irritated DS Brooks in some way? Is that why she'd picked him out to pursue this fruitless case? He didn't think he'd done anything wrong – offering to stay late in her stead last night, helping to organize the other DCs this morning – but there couldn't be any other explanation for it. This was a hospital pass, a lose-lose situation. Pulled off the shooting investigation, he'd been tasked with making progress in a case that was obviously hopeless. For reasons that were beyond him, DI Grace was clearly worried about this girl, hence the foolish deployment of manpower that was needed elsewhere. She would be expecting results, progress, but what chance was there of that? There was no evidence that any crime had been committed, that this girl was on the streets and in danger, but even if she was, finding her would be like looking for a needle in a haystack. There were numerous parks, back alleys, industrial estates and abandoned warehouses where the dispossessed sought shelter. There was no way he could cover all those himself, yet that was his task, hence his bitter mood. All he had to look forward to was a day's hard walking with only the promise of an empty-handed return to Southampton Central. How the others must be laughing at him back at base, reveling in his demotion to duties fit only for uniform.

Seething, DC Jennings strode on. He had checked out Hoglands Park and the surrounding streets, finding no one there who'd even caught sight of Naomi Watson. Irked, he'd widened his search, stalking the roads that led away from Hoglands to the east of the city. Jennings knew that these dark lanes were a haven for dropouts, druggies and the homeless, and sure enough this grimy, rain-spattered underpass had more than its fair share. Jennings eyed them as he walked past, dismissing them as spaced out, dangerous or just plain odd. He'd never had much time for the dregs of society and hurried on quickly, scanning this way and that for any sign of the mythical Naomi, hoping that he would soon be shot of this place. Something about it sapped his spirit, made him uneasy, so he was keen to be away.

As he neared the mid-point of the tunnel, however, he paused. Scrunched up against the wall, her lower half hidden in a dirty sleeping bag, was a teenage girl. She was wearing a torn puffa and faded Southampton FC beanie, her arm lying casually on a bedraggled Border collie, which was clearly heavily pregnant. Jennings stared down at the mum-to-be with something approaching sympathy; he often had more time for dogs than humans if he was honest, but as he moved his gaze on, he realized the teenager was looking directly at him. Surprised, he scrutinized her, clocking immediately that this wasn't the girl they were looking for, but of all the inhabitants of this forsaken place, she at least looked sane.

‘Can I help you?' she asked, a hint of a challenge in her voice.

Jennings wasn't sure whether this was pushback or an invitation, so he responded quickly, flipping open his warrant card, keen to take charge of the conversation.

‘You seen this girl?'

He offered her a photo of Naomi Watson.

‘We think she's missing, might have passed through here.'

The girl took the photo from him, studying it as Jennings rocked back and forth on his heels, stealing a glance at his watch.

‘Yeah, maybe.'

Jennings turned back to her, surprised by the runaway's response.

‘Seriously?' he asked, surprised.

‘It's hard to tell for sure,' she replied uncertainly. ‘I think I saw her here last night, maybe around nine o'clock. I only clocked her from the side, so I can't be sure, but I remember noticing her hair …'

‘Where was she? What was she doing?'

Looking up, the pale teenager pointed to the opposite side of the underpass.

‘She was dossing down over there, I think. There's a little doorway people sometimes claim if there's nowhere else good. Then again, she wasn't there when I woke up this morning, so maybe I imagined the whole thing …'

Jennings stared at the empty doorway, annoyed, as his ‘lead' slowly went up in smoke.

‘No idea where she went? Which direction she headed off in?'

But the teenager was already shaking her head.

‘Sorry, fella, best I can do …'

‘Well, thanks for nothing,' Jennings muttered under his breath, turning and heading off without a word.

‘Hey, don't I get anything? A bit of cash? A smoke? Play fair …'

But Jennings just raised his middle finger in the air and carried on, shaking his head at her cheek. Even if she had broken the case, he wouldn't have given her a penny. Marching on, he headed towards the far end of the underpass, keen to be back in the milky sunlight of this cold November morning. This place gave him the creeps, as did the pondlife that lurked in its shadows. Perhaps he could inspect a few more streets, then call it a day, suggesting that he'd covered most of this downtown area? Would he then be allowed back onto the shooting investigation to do some proper policework? He sincerely hoped so.

Emerging into the light, Jennings paused, pulling out a pack of Camel Lights and lighting one up in full of view of his underpass companion, who could be heard swearing at him. Smiling, Jennings took a long drag on his cigarette then, tipping his head back, blew out a column of smoke, watching it drift away into the opaque sky. But as he did so, he spotted something.

A traffic camera on the wall above him, staring directly down at him.