STORM LOG-0505: A Gripping, Supernatural Crime Thriller (The First Detective Deans Novel) Read Free Page B

had not been arranged. Historic cell-site activity could at least show the phone’s location at a given time, and similarly with cash withdrawals, and that would have made for a useful starting point. A Police National Computer (PNC) report showed the boyfriend, Carl Groves, had received a caution back in the summer for a public order offence in the city centre. The officer in the case was PC Hill, a foot patrol officer whose arrest rate was significantly higher than the rest of his team, or the station, come to that. The bosses loved him for it and he regularly received performance awards. The reality however, was that Hill was an average officer who had an unbelievable knack for getting under the skin of the late-night revellers. Those stupid enough to engage or argue got nicked. Hill was like a Venus fly trap, indiscriminate and uncompromising, and Deans imagined Carl Groves had flown just too close for his own good.
    He noted with interest that Amy’s family were from Hemingsford. He had been to Cornwall with Maria several times but was less familiar with North Devon. He hunted for the contact details and punched the home number into the desk phone. Being a Wednesday afternoon he did not know whether to expect an answer or not, but the skipper had said the call needed making, and so be it. Deans understood this contact was important and potentially difficult. It had been several days since Amy went missing, with no significant progress. That was unsatisfactory from an investigative perspective, but nothing compared to the anguish her parents must be feeling.
    He failed to gain a response from the landline; however, a mature-sounding woman with a soft, warm voice answered the mobile number.
    ‘Hello. Mrs Poole?’ Deans asked.
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘Hello, my name is DC Deans. I’m calling from Falcon Road CID in Bath. I just wanted to make contact with you and introduce myself.’
    There was a silence for a few moments, and then Mrs Poole replied, ‘Yes.’
    ‘I’d like to pass you my direct contact details and let you know that I’m the officer in the case for Amy’s disappearance.’
    There was a longer silence.
    ‘Hello?’ Deans said again, but heard nothing. He pressed on. ‘I’ve only been allocated the job today, but I can assure you that I’ll do all I can to find your daughter, Mrs Poole.’ He stopped talking and waited for some sort of response. It was unusual in these circumstances to be having a one-way conversation, but then again, he would usually be visiting the family in their home. He pressed the phone tightly to his ear and then the magnitude of his error struck him: Mrs Poole didn’t know.
    ‘Mrs Poole,’ Deans said quickly. ‘Mrs Poole, are you okay?’
    Instead of an answer, Deans heard heartbreak and pain. He flicked through the handover papers to the STORM LOG and immediately saw what he had missed. NOK have not been informed .
    A surge of blood rushed to his head, his cheeks flushed, and he fought in his mind to construct the right words to rectify his balls-up.
    ‘Mrs Poole, I’m very sorry. It was my belief that you’d already been informed. I’m terribly sorry to have given you the news in this way.’
    He stopped, but heard nothing.
    ‘We received a report on Tuesday from one of Amy’s housemates that she was missing. It’s suggested that Amy hasn’t been answering her phone or social media. Have you had any contact with her since the weekend, Mrs Poole?’
    A shadowy sound of gasping breath was all he could hear in the earpiece.
    ‘Okay, Mrs Poole,’ he said softly. ‘I’ll take it you’ve had none.’ He paused, heard snivelling. ‘Do you have someone else there with you at the moment, Mrs Poole?’
    ‘Y-yes. My hus-husband… and… s-sister.’
    ‘I’m glad you’re not alone. Would it be possible to speak to either of them, please?’
    The line went quiet for a moment. ‘Who is this?’ a male voice boomed.
    ‘Hello, sir. My name is Detective Constable Andrew