Lost Souls by Jenny O'Brien (android e book reader txt) 📕

‘We’re concerned as to the whereabouts of Ronan Stevens. Anything that you can tell us would be helpful.’

The happy-go-lucky, jovial face altered, the smile now a frown as muscles tightened to redistribute his features. ‘Ah yes. There’s a complex, troubled young man if ever there was one. The sins of the past lie heavily on his young shoulders.’ He ran his hand over his neck, his speech paused at the sound of a trolley squeaking along the tiles outside the door. He only resumed the conversation when his wife had left the room for a second time after distributing an array of china. ‘So, what exactly would you like to know?’

‘Anything obvious that you can tell us.’

‘There’s not a lot. He came to me. No. That’s not quite right,’ he said, his frown deepening. ‘I was in the Victorian Arcade, let me see now, it must have been about six weeks ago, when I saw this tall gangly lad sitting on one of the benches and I knew he was in trouble.’ He raised his head, a muscle in his right cheek starting to twitch. ‘It didn’t take me long to realise how much.’ He took a quick sip of his tea before clattering his cup back in the saucer, his fat fingers struggling with the dainty handle. ‘There’s always something about the eyes … They aren’t called the windows to the soul for nothing. His were dead, glazed over with the same stigma we find in kids who’ve seen far too much in their young lives. He couldn’t have tried to save himself even if he’d wanted to.

‘It was around about the same time that his mother came to see me – the work I do with society’s less fortunates is common knowledge in the local community. I agreed to watch out for him and within days had put him to work in the garden. The church is surrounded on all sides and digging and the like is not my forte, shall we say,’ he said, choosing a second cake and managing to pop it into his mouth whole with barely a pause in the conversation. ‘I had thought that we were winning. The shell, once broken, is a fragile thing and so it was with Ronan. The general hubbub of church life was causing a hairline fracture through his emotions, the real Ronan seeping out through the cracks.’

‘And what is he like?’ Gaby asked, eyeing him over the rim of her bone china teacup, liking this unassuming man more and more and again wondering where he’d found such a wife.

‘I’d say genuine and honest. Always keen to help and nice to be around. Very quiet though, quiet and deep. There’s a huge amount going on in that mind of his that rarely makes the surface.’ He leant back in his chair, his cup now back on the tray, his hands neatly folded across his belly. ‘Such a waste of a life but I did think that he was starting to get back on track, but it appears that that’s not the case?’

Gaby was tempted to confide at least part of her concerns but something held her back; she had no idea what. It wasn’t as if he’d break her confidence and they needed all the help they could get.

Instead of answering his implied question, she decided to ask one of her own. ‘So, you have no idea where he might be? We need to speak to him urgently.’

‘And he would know this, would he?’

Gaby met Diane’s gaze as they both shared the same thought.

‘As you say, he’s an intelligent lad so, yes, he’d know.’

‘Then I think you’re in a lot of trouble because it’s highly unlikely you’ll find him until the time comes when he wants to be found.’

Chapter 38

Gaby

Tuesday 4 August, 11 a.m. St Asaph Police Station

Gaby and DCI Henry Sherlock had what could be termed a satisfactory relationship. He told her what to do and mostly she did it. They only fell out when she went off piste and, to be truthful, after the last occasion when she’d ended up in hospital attached to life support, she was trying to benefit from his wisdom and learn from her mistakes. Impulsivity in police work often ended with unexpected consequences, which she was reminded about each time her side ached as the wound in her left side continued to heal.

Being summoned to her boss’s office was all she needed. But with her job application form in his inbox, in addition to three major investigations on the table, she couldn’t really blame him.

‘Take a seat and tell me how you’re getting on with the search.’

Gaby lowered herself into the chair positioned directly in front of his desk, trying to marshal her thoughts as she pulled her jacket across her chest and linked her hands in her lap. There was a thing or two she’d like to ask him in return – like how Bill Davis’s interview had gone. She’d seen him exiting the building in a brand-new suit and carefully arranged smile, which had the desired negative effect on her mood. But she was intelligent enough to appreciate that it was all for show. It wasn’t in Sherlock’s nature to make snap decisions. She was also wise enough to realise that if he did decide to appoint Davis, he’d only have himself to blame. The fallout on the team would be as immediate as it would be disastrous.

‘Not as well as we would have hoped at this stage, thirty hours or so since her disappearance,’ she finally said, managing a fleeting smile. ‘Thoughts are that she’s attached herself to Ronan Stevens, the son of Casper.’ She leant forward, focusing briefly on his wire-framed spectacles, which were in their usual position on top of his forehead, before dropping her gaze to meet his. ‘It’s not something the press have managed to get hold of yet but, as we both