Chapter 11

As the door closed shut, Sajid Jain sat down at the desk and looked at the screen. Normally, missing people were not initially investigated by detectives. The leg work was done by regular police constables until such time as it became something more serious. However, Jain had been sent down to the front office by his Inspector who believed this was something unusual and increased the risk assessment accordingly. Jain agreed that this was rather unusual. Boyfriends went missing all the timeoften after an argument or alcoholbut usually turned up the next day. This was strange because of the vehicle. Why would the boyfriend leave it in the middle of nowhere?

Tapping at the keyboard, Jain brought up the details of the car's supposed location and wrote it down in his pocket notebook. He scribbled down the girlfriend's phone number next to it, followed by both of their home addresses. He hated leaving the office if he was honest with himself, and that was part of the reason CID appealed to him. He did not really think such mundane tasks were part of his remit, but he certainly was not going to argue back with an Inspector. Despite Claire's assumptions about his appearance, Jain was actually only at the start of his shift. He still had at least seven more hours to go. The rain was still relentless, which made the prospect of a trip to the countryside especially unappealing. Jain looked out at the flooded gutters and decided an umbrella would not do him much good, so he walked through the front office and out of the exit, jogging swiftly to the unmarked burgundy police vehicle he had managed to borrow for the day.

Traffic was heavy and slow, as expected in the conditions, so it took almost an hour to reach the point of the A369 where the missing man's car was supposed to be. There it was, just as the woman had described. Jain drove slowly, and idled closely up next to it with his windows a few inches from the driver's door. The rain was finally starting to slow down, so he lowered the window and tried the other car's door handle. Locked. As far as the detective could see, there was no one in the vehicle and nothing particularly unusual about its appearance. No suitcases on the back seat, numerous clothes or bottles of alcohol to indicate that someone had been planning to use the vehicle as a retreat from an overbearing partner. Police checks showed the vehicle was insured and registered to the missing man, James Lockedon, and the address matched up. Jain had not really expected to find anything here but it was part of the procedure he had to follow for any missing person's investigation. He pulled his vehicle to the side of the road and started updating his notebook.

As he was writing the time on the page, he looked further past the car opposite him and saw Neates House in the distance. He had visited the estate once, years ago when he was new to the force. There had been a call from the occupants reporting a burglary, although when he attended and spoke to them they explained that nothing had been stolen. The occupants were an elderly couple, and seemed convinced that someone had been in the home without their consent. When pressed as to why, they explained that things felt different. The old couple were both quite eccentric, so he tried to reassure them that there was nothing he could do without evidence of a crime but that he would check the grounds for them to make sure there were no nasty people about. He and his more senior colleague had then spent an hour walking around the massive area attached to the estate, poking around in outhouses, sheds, and unused stables. As expected, there were no people there. Just grass, trees, and rusty equipment to show that there had once been a lot more to Neates House than just two lonely, old pensioners. There had probably been a large family living there at some point, and a team of staff to take care of them. He relayed his findings back to the old couple, whose names he could no longer remember, and never saw them again. He wondered if they were still alive. Technically, house to house enquiries would be part of the investigation here, and although this was the only house for quite some distance there was a small chance that someone inside had seen James Lockedon today.

Moving his vehicle up to the entrance gate, he saw that there was a lock in place. Disappointed to be undoubtedly getting wet, he pulled the car as close as possible and got out. The skies had slowed down to a fine drizzle now, rather than the power shower of earlier. A decent soaking was still inevitable; Jain's motivation matched his desire to endure it. He climbed over the rungs of the gate and made his way up the path. By the time he reached the front door, feeling damp and listless, some memories of the old married occupants had returned. He remembered that they were very well dressed in old-fashioned clothes, but had a musty funk about them. The woman had done most of the talking, with the elderly gent just nodding along with her. Maybe they were still here. They would probably not remember him, although if they received as few visitors as he suspected, they might do. He used the heavy knocker to bang the door. Waiting for a response he stepped back to survey the windows for signs of life. No lights on, and no movement as far as he could see from the front of the building. No one suspiciously twitched at the curtains, peeping at his intrusive attendance. He knocked again but, rather than wait any longer for an answer, immediately began to walk up to the east edge of the property. Again, memories came back to him as he rounded the building, bringing back details of his search for the mystery burglars. It felt strange to Jain that, many years apart, he would be doing something almost identical: walking around the grounds looking for someone he did not really expect to find. He saw the same old set of stables, sheds and outhouses in the same locations, the same state of tatty upkeep. He also saw the same absences: an absence of life and an absence of light.