Rosie. ‘However, the press coverage may well prove invaluable in finding Rosie quickly. There are two uniformed officers stationed at the
gate to make sure residents still have easy access.’
‘I’m sure the silly girl’s just run off somewhere and all this nonsense is a waste of everyone’s time, mine and yours included.’
Maggie’s eyes narrowed. ‘What makes you say that? Do you know Rosie?’
‘Heavens, no,’ Mrs Roberts sniffed, as though to suggest so was an insult. ‘I have nothing to do with her or her parents. They keep to themselves, as do I.’
I’m not surprised they do if you’re the sort of person they have to live near, thought Maggie sourly.
‘Why do you think she’s run off then?’ she asked.
The reply came with a sneer. ‘She’s fifteen years old, for heaven’s sake. She’s probably doing it for attention and now we’re the ones suffering.’
While the selfishness of some people rarely shocked Maggie – people wanting something that wasn’t theirs was at the root of most crimes, after all – this woman was something
else. Time to end the conversation.
‘Rosie’s been missing for almost twenty-four hours now and her parents are frantic with worry,’ she said. ‘I know they’ll appreciate the support of their neighbours
at this difficult time so I’ll tell them you popped round.’
Maggie shut the door before the woman could react.
Returning briskly to the kitchen, she wondered if the rest of the neighbours were as stuck-up and self-serving as Mrs Roberts was. It would certainly explain why their door-to-door inquiries had
drawn a blank. Umpire had revealed as much when he called her half an hour ago to update her on the investigation so far. FLOs weren’t expected to attend every single incident room briefing
because their place was with the victims’ relatives, but it was vital they were kept in the loop and any important developments passed on immediately.
Umpire said the last known sighting of Rosie was still at 10.33 a.m., just before the CCTV cameras installed in the Kinnocks’ back garden were switched off.
‘Does Rosie know how to deactivate the system?’ Maggie had asked.
‘Yes. Her dad showed her what to do in the unlikely event she ever needed to reset it.’
‘So the cameras were switched off before Rosie got changed out of her shorts into her party skirt and then went missing?’
‘It looks that way,’ said Umpire.
He said he’d be over later, after briefing the rest of the team at the Major Crime incident room he’d commandeered at Mansell police station. There was a station in Haxton but it was
run on a part-time basis by volunteers and only dealt with minor matters such as processing documents for traffic offences. It had neither the capacity nor the technological set-up required to run
a Major Crime investigation.
The ease with which Umpire spoke to her on the phone made Maggie relax about what Belmar had told her the previous evening. If Umpire had been aware of what was being said about them his voice
would’ve betrayed him with the same awkwardness he showed when certain female officers flirted with him. Instead, they seemed to be edging back to how they were before the Megan Fowler case
changed everything.
That case had been tough on everyone involved. Megan was only eight – the same age Maggie’s nephew Scotty was now – when she was strangled and her body dumped behind some
garages near her home on the west side of Mansell. Some killers take trophies from their crimes and Megan’s had, for some inexplicable reason, hacked off her long blonde hair. It was a detail
Umpire wanted to withhold from public consumption: he wanted to use the evidence to wheedle out anyone who claimed to have knowledge of the murder by establishing if they knew about Megan’s
hair being cut.
But that included not telling Megan’s parents. Umpire said he didn’t trust them not to divulge the detail, especially as they were making
gate to make sure residents still have easy access.’
‘I’m sure the silly girl’s just run off somewhere and all this nonsense is a waste of everyone’s time, mine and yours included.’
Maggie’s eyes narrowed. ‘What makes you say that? Do you know Rosie?’
‘Heavens, no,’ Mrs Roberts sniffed, as though to suggest so was an insult. ‘I have nothing to do with her or her parents. They keep to themselves, as do I.’
I’m not surprised they do if you’re the sort of person they have to live near, thought Maggie sourly.
‘Why do you think she’s run off then?’ she asked.
The reply came with a sneer. ‘She’s fifteen years old, for heaven’s sake. She’s probably doing it for attention and now we’re the ones suffering.’
While the selfishness of some people rarely shocked Maggie – people wanting something that wasn’t theirs was at the root of most crimes, after all – this woman was something
else. Time to end the conversation.
‘Rosie’s been missing for almost twenty-four hours now and her parents are frantic with worry,’ she said. ‘I know they’ll appreciate the support of their neighbours
at this difficult time so I’ll tell them you popped round.’
Maggie shut the door before the woman could react.
Returning briskly to the kitchen, she wondered if the rest of the neighbours were as stuck-up and self-serving as Mrs Roberts was. It would certainly explain why their door-to-door inquiries had
drawn a blank. Umpire had revealed as much when he called her half an hour ago to update her on the investigation so far. FLOs weren’t expected to attend every single incident room briefing
because their place was with the victims’ relatives, but it was vital they were kept in the loop and any important developments passed on immediately.
Umpire said the last known sighting of Rosie was still at 10.33 a.m., just before the CCTV cameras installed in the Kinnocks’ back garden were switched off.
‘Does Rosie know how to deactivate the system?’ Maggie had asked.
‘Yes. Her dad showed her what to do in the unlikely event she ever needed to reset it.’
‘So the cameras were switched off before Rosie got changed out of her shorts into her party skirt and then went missing?’
‘It looks that way,’ said Umpire.
He said he’d be over later, after briefing the rest of the team at the Major Crime incident room he’d commandeered at Mansell police station. There was a station in Haxton but it was
run on a part-time basis by volunteers and only dealt with minor matters such as processing documents for traffic offences. It had neither the capacity nor the technological set-up required to run
a Major Crime investigation.
The ease with which Umpire spoke to her on the phone made Maggie relax about what Belmar had told her the previous evening. If Umpire had been aware of what was being said about them his voice
would’ve betrayed him with the same awkwardness he showed when certain female officers flirted with him. Instead, they seemed to be edging back to how they were before the Megan Fowler case
changed everything.
That case had been tough on everyone involved. Megan was only eight – the same age Maggie’s nephew Scotty was now – when she was strangled and her body dumped behind some
garages near her home on the west side of Mansell. Some killers take trophies from their crimes and Megan’s had, for some inexplicable reason, hacked off her long blonde hair. It was a detail
Umpire wanted to withhold from public consumption: he wanted to use the evidence to wheedle out anyone who claimed to have knowledge of the murder by establishing if they knew about Megan’s
hair being cut.
But that included not telling Megan’s parents. Umpire said he didn’t trust them not to divulge the detail, especially as they were making
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