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“Hold on, Nell.” Harrison kept his eyes fixed on Calder as he pulled the phone away from his mouth. “Go on.”
“We’ve got an ID.”
Harrison brought the phone back to his mouth quickly. “I have to go, Nell.”
“Okay, Harry, but think about talking to J—”
He ended the call before she could finish and threw the phone onto his desk, pushing away the confidential folders of Robyn Whitton. Though he was sure Calder had seen them. So Harrison gestured him in and Calder stepped inside, handing over the folder.
“Fingerprints came back through IDENT1 about twenty minutes ago.” He pointed to the section where it was there, in black and white. “Confirmed against prior custody record from Humberside. We have an ID on Jane Doe.”
Harrison read.
The relief hit him first. Immediate and ugly. So sharp it almost weakened his knees. But Christ, the guilt followed immediately after it. Because another young woman still lay dead in the mortuary downstairs, while Harrison stood there silently thanking God it wasn’t the one Jake loved.
He forced himself to keep reading.
Female. Twenty-six.
Lauren Pike.
Known in Hull for low-level soliciting offences. Multiple safeguarding referrals. Prior arrests linked to drug possession and street work around Hessle Road. Temporary accommodation history. Reported missing eighteen days ago by a Kayleigh Brennan.
Harrison frowned. “Eighteen days?”
Calder nodded. “Report got buried initially. Vulnerable adult. History of disappearing voluntarily.”
Meaning no one had looked particularly hard.
The realisation tasted sour. “Who took the report?”
“Humberside. Uniform response initially. Then safeguarding.” Calder folded his arms. “Looks as though everyone assumed she’d turn up eventually.”
Because girls like Lauren Pike always did. Until one day they didn’t.
Harrison turned another page. The tattoo was mentioned briefly within the custody identifiers. Black stitched heart. Left hip. He lingered there a moment too long before he shut the file. “Next of kin?”
“Mother deceased. Father unknown. No fixed address.” Calder scratched tiredly along his jaw. “This Kayleigh’s the closest thing we’ve got to regular contact.”
“Then we find her.”
Calder nodded.
Harrison’s brain shifted gears. Victimology. Timeline. Last movements. Phones. Clients. Routes from Hull to Hartswick. Why she’d ended up near the estate. Because people didn’t drift accidentally from Hessle Road to a dead riverbank behind Blackridge property.
“Media?” Calder asked.
Harrison glanced over to the incident board. “We hold the name until we’ve spoken to the next of kin. Then controlled release tomorrow afternoon.”
Calder raised an eyebrow. “You think press’ll link the soliciting angle quickly?”
“They’ll smell it within the hour once Hull’s involved.” Harrison sighed. “Better it comes from us than through speculation.”
And because if they released her name publicly, someone else might come forward. Punters. Drivers. Other girls. Or someone who suddenly got nervous hearing Lauren Pike had been pulled from a Yorkshire River.
“Right.” Harrison pushed aside the Robyn file. He no longer needed that. “Get Humberside on the line and pull everything they’ve got on her. Full missing person file, safeguarding referrals, custody reports, known associates, addresses, phone numbers. I want movement for the last month if they’ve got it.”
Calder nodded. “Aye.”
