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“I can imagine,” said Gardener.
“It’s the usual stuff to begin with. Full name, age, description, what she was last seen wearing.”
Gardener glanced at the two photographs on the table. In each one her clothes were different, which made him wonder
when they were taken. Which of the two was the more recent?
Goodman continued. “It seems she had a good relationship with her parents. There were no brothers or sisters, so they doted on her a bit. She was last seen with a friend.”
“What was her name?”
“Masie Turner,” replied Goodman. “The pair of them went to the playground in Esholt. I asked who was responsible for them at the time Chloe went missing. There was apparently a bit of a misunderstanding between a number of the parents, with each one thinking someone different was supposed to be watching. Turns out no one was.”
She passed Gardener a file with both girls’ names and their addresses. Reilly took notes.
“You don’t think they wanted some time on their own, do you? Made up a small white lie about who was supposed to be in charge?”
“Masie claims not. We’ve asked her a dozen times. Her story checks out, same every time.”
Goodman continued with her summary. “Chloe was pretty healthy. No disabilities, not on any medication. All relatives have been contacted.”
“Had she ever gone missing before?” Gardener asked.
“Not according to the parents. She didn’t seem unhappy about anything, and she hadn’t been acting strangely.”
Goodman flipped open her mobile and asked for three coffees to be delivered without even asking Gardener or Reilly if they wanted one. “Then we really went into action. We contacted all the hospitals, local schools, other police stations. We broadcast a description to patrols indicating the area she was last seen. We made sure the mother stayed home twenty-four seven, in case Chloe made contact or returned.”
“Has she?”
“No. Not a thing. The area CCTV have all been informed and given a description. Within six hours we made a broadcast on the local radio stations. We also set up a twenty-four-hour TV alert and a major incident unit.”
“And you haven’t seen or heard anything?” Reilly asked.
“No,” said Goodman. “It’s as if the girl has completely disappeared.”
The door opened and a WPC delivered the three warm drinks. Each officer nodded their appreciation before the conversation resumed.
Gardener didn’t want to ask the question, but he’d lay odds it had run through Goodman’s mind more than once. “Do you think she may be dead?”
“I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t thought about it, but as yet we have no body to confirm that. So we have to keep looking.”
“Somebody must have seen her,” said Gardener.
“I agree, but either we haven’t found them, or they don’t watch TV, listen to the radio, or read a newspaper.”
“Nobody could be that brain dead,” offered Reilly.
“You wouldn’t think so,” said Goodman.
Gardener felt slightly guilty. He hadn’t heard or read anything about it, either, which had surprised Beryl Potts when he’d interviewed her about Nicola Stapleton. He dug out the crime scene photo of the prostitute and asked Goodman if she recognized her.
“No. Can’t say she’s come up in our investigation. What’s her name?”
“Nicola Stapleton.”
Goodman shook her head.
“So she’s definitely not a relative?”
