Chapter 22

Chapter 22

Charlie hurried through the lobby of Southampton Central, buzzing herself through the staff entrance and heading fast for the lift bank. As she approached, the doors slid open and she punched the button for the seventh floor, keen to be off. She'd had a frustrating afternoon.

As the doors closed and the lift began to rise, Charlie leaned against the wall, grateful for its support. She felt totally washed out, her mood not improved by her interview with Rachel Coombes, a young woman who'd briefly parked in the underpass last night to vomit, courtesy of her crippling morning sickness. Charlie had felt real sympathy for the young professional, remembering how stricken she'd been during her first pregnancy, but there was no point lingering to offer solidarity. The young mum-to-be clearly had no salient information to give Charlie – Coombes was above suspicion and hadn't seen anything untoward that night – so making her excuses, Charlie had headed on her way, irritated to have nothing to show for an afternoon's work.

The lift slowed to a halt and as the doors released, Charlie was swiftly on the move again, keen to make some kind of positive contribution before the day was done. She was eating up the yards towards the incident room, making her way fast down the corridor, but as she approached her destination, she clocked PC Beth Beamer hovering nearby. The probationer looked nervous, as if uncertain whether to breach the sanctuary of the station's CID. Having been there herself in years gone by, Charlie was quick to put her out of her misery.

‘Can I help you, PC Beamer?'

Charlie smiled warmly at the young officer, but it was not reciprocated. Beamer looked pained.

‘Is something wrong? Are you OK?'

‘Yes, I'm fine,' Beamer replied unconvincingly. ‘I just … thought I ought to have a word with someone about the missing teenager.'

‘Naomi Watson?'

Beamer nodded, but still looked stricken.

‘Do you have any leads? A sighting perhaps or …?'

‘Sort of.'

‘Well, spit it out then. Every second counts in a case like this.'

‘Exactly,' the probationer responded with enthusiasm, suddenly finding her voice. ‘That's why I thought I had to come to you.'

Now Charlie paused, intrigued by the young woman's passion, but also her evident discomfort. Drawing her aside, Charlie continued in a quieter voice, ‘What's up, Beth?'

The PC darted a quick look down the corridor, then taking a step closer, replied, ‘Well, it's just that I think … I think PC Reynolds made a mistake when he was talking to DI Grace earlier. I think we did see Naomi Watson last night.'

‘Right,' Charlie replied, wrong-footed. ‘When you say you think you saw her …?'

‘Well, it wasn't me so much, as him. We were passing through the Lordship Road underpass, the one where it's thought she bedded down. I was talking to a guy I suspected was selling drugs – Brent Mason. Maybe you know him?'

‘Oh, I know Brent,' Charlie replied archly. ‘Been dealing since he could crawl.'

‘That's him, he's a regular down there. Anyway, whilst I was questioning him,' Beamer continued urgently, ‘PC Reynolds was checking up on a young girl who'd found herself a bit of shelter in a doorway halfway along the tunnel …'

‘And was it her?' Charlie insisted, intrigued and confused in equal measure.

‘Yes, I'm 95 per cent sure that it was. I didn't see her face clearly, but the description of what she was wearing certainly matched.'

Charlie said nothing, trying to process this curious development, before eventually replying, ‘Have you spoken to PC Reynolds about this?'

‘Not yet,' Beamer replied, dropping her gaze.

‘And do you have any evidence to back up your suggestion, anything that might corroborate your version of events?'

To Charlie's surprise, Beamer was already nodding.

‘Well, obviously when I confronted the dealer, I turned my bodycam on, in case I turned anything up or in case Mason became violent …'

‘Standard procedure,' Charlie replied reassuringly.

‘And, well, you can see for yourself from the footage …'

She offered her phone to Charlie, on which she'd lined up a video clip. Hitting play, Charlie watched with growing unease. She could see Brent Mason in the foreground, protesting as he was forced to turn out his pockets, but over his right shoulder, in the middle distance, Charlie could clearly see PC Reynolds crouched down on his haunches, talking to a young woman who was huddling in a little nook to the side of the dirty underpass. Scrutinizing the footage, Charlie placed her fingers on the screen, zooming in further. And now she paused, troubled and confused. The young woman's face wasn't visible, but the camera effortlessly picked up her striking blue hair, her ripped jeans and her bright pink Doc Marten boots. Looking up at PC Beamer, Charlie finally understood her discomfort. PC Dave Reynolds had clearly spoken with Naomi Watson last night, just hours before she went missing. The question now was why the experienced community officer hadn't offered up this information when asked about it directly by Helen.

Was it a mistake, a simple oversight? Or something more sinister?