Discarded

  Discarded

  The Missing Children Case Files

  M. A. Hunter

  One More Chapter

  a division of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd

  1 London Bridge Street

  London SE1 9GF

  www.harpercollins.co.uk

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  First published in Great Britain by HarperCollinsPublishers 2021

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  Copyright © M. A. Hunter 2021

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  Cover design by Lucy Bennett © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2021

  Cover images © Shutterstock.com

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  M. A. Hunter asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work

  * * *

  A catalogue record of this book is available from the British Library

  * * *

  This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

  * * *

  All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

  * * *

  Source ISBN: 9780008443351

  Ebook Edition © March 2021 ISBN: 9780008443344

  Version: 2021-02-11

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  Content notices: domestic violence, paedophilia, sexual assault, drug abuse, child abuse.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Acknowledgments

  Thank you for reading…

  You will also love…

  About the Author

  Also by M. A. Hunter

  One More Chapter...

  About the Publisher

  Dedicated to ‘Little’ David Knowles

  who passed away in December 2020.

  Thank you for 27 years of great memories.

  The road was jagged

  Over sharp stones:

  Your body’s too ragged

  To cover your bones.

  * * *

  The wind scatters

  Tears upon dust;

  Your soul’s in tatters

  Where the spears thrust.

  — Fire and Sleet and Candlelight, Elinor Wylie

  Chapter One

  Then

  Portland, Dorset

  Incandescent with rage, Joanna strode on, only once daring to sneak a glance back over her shoulder to where her sister watched on.

  ‘Stupid baby toy,’ she muttered under her breath, the salty breeze cooling the small blot of tears that had started forming around her eyes. ‘I don’t need it, and I don’t need them.’

  Everyone always said Joanna was very mature for her age, and maybe that was part of the problem: they could see she was mature, but still treated her as a child. It wasn’t fair. She was practically ten anyway, and clearly her parents considered her old enough to watch over her kid sister while they talked, so they couldn’t complain that she’d decided to walk to the shop to buy herself some sweets; she’d probably be home before they even realised anyway.

  The cause of this latest outburst – one in a long line of recent disagreements blown over the top – was the seeming lack of reward for this term’s school report. Joanna had worked hard to earn her high grades in English, Maths, and Science, but just because her younger sister had received a special mention in the end of term newsletter, she’d been given a new skateboard. How was that fair? Where was Joanna’s own skateboard, or age-appropriate gift, for doing so well? Were strong grades in English, Maths, and Science really worth less than the piece of music her sister had learned to play on that damned recorder?

  And she’d missed a note when she’d played it!

  But there was no mention of that slip-up in the newsletter that was now stuck to the front of the fridge, with copies sent out to family members far and wide.

  ‘We’ve high hopes for you,’ their father had said at breakfast, still beaming. ‘Today, the school assembly, but tomorrow, maybe the Philharmonic Orchestra!’

  Yeah, sure, Dad, they have recorder players in the Philharmonic Orchestra!

  Joanna had only asked for one turn on the bloody skateboard, to show her sister how to do it right, but would she listen? No! Always thought she knew better, that one. Well, Joanna would show her. She’d take the pound coin she’d earned for tidying her bedroom, and she’d buy chocolate, and casually walk home, eating it. Then her sister would know who the big fish in the family was!

  But as she now looked up to get her bearings, she realised she’d missed the usual cut way that led up to the local shop. In fact, she’d missed it by quite some distance, and she wasn’t totally certain she knew where she was. The sea gulls cawed nearby, but she couldn’t get a sense of which end of the island she’d been walking towards. There was something vaguely familiar about the boarded-up fish and chip shop on the corner, the picture of the navy-blue fish on the orange backdrop looking ghastly. If she kept walking straight she would eventually come to one side of the shoreline or the other, or she’d see the signs for Weymouth and realise she’d walked far too far.

  Stopping for a moment, and sweeping the hazelnut fringe out of her eyes, she took in the full horizon, looking for any indication of just how far she’d come. Wasn’t this the way their mum drove them to the dentist? Their dentist was on the way to Weymouth town centre, and so they made the six-monthly visit by car. Most of the time, Joanna had her head buried in a book of poetry or literature, and she didn’t bother to take in the scenery around her.

  Not wanting to retrace her steps, she continued onwards, turning down past the fish and chip shop. If she was right, and this was the road to the dentist, then there should be a…

  The smile broke across her face as she spotted the small newsagent’s shop with the giant plastic ice-cream cone standing outside of it. Joanna remembered this shop, because every time they went to the dentist, her sister would whine and crave an ice cream that big, even though she’d have no chance of holding something so large, let alone eating it. That didn’t stop her droning on about it though. And if anyone ever did invent an ice cream that big, she’d bet her parents would somehow find the money to buy it for her sister. That meant Joann
a must have walked further than she’d expected, though she couldn’t spot the coastline in any direction.

  Thrusting her hands into her pockets, she playfully ran her fingertips around the rough edges of the pound coin. One day, when she was older and she had children of her own, she would make sure they were treated equally; no special measures for the younger child. And both children would be allowed to choose whether they wanted to buy sweets or not. Joanna knew all about healthy diets, and very rarely asked for chocolate or sweets, but every once in a while couldn’t hurt, and that was why she was now determined to buy herself a treat. She wouldn’t use the entire pound right now. She’d use some of it, and keep some for the next time her sister got on her nerves. After all, she’d managed to find the newsagent’s shop this time without too much fuss, and so a return trip one day wouldn’t be out of the question.

  Entering the shop, she was immediately hit by the wave of warm air that hung at head-height. It actually felt warmer in the shop than it had outside, where the sea breeze was pushing the few clouds in the otherwise crystal-blue sky. Clearly, the owner didn’t believe in the merits of air conditioning. The shop was about the size of her bedroom, but it was crammed full. Colourful magazines – like the ones her grandma read – lined the shelves, and above those were the magazines her dad would occasionally buy when Mum wasn’t around. The opposite wall, by comparison, was a thing of beauty. The shelves were chockful of colourful wrappers; could it be that every sweet ever produced resided here? So much choice; too much choice! And then, above the chocolate bars, was a shelf containing tall plastic cartons of sweets, including sherbet lemons, cola bottles, and her favourites: rhubarb and custards.

  Maybe she wouldn’t bother saving any of her pound today; she could always earn another pound for tidying her room, or offering to dry the washed crockery after dinner. In fact, this Aladdin’s cave could become her secret place – somewhere she could sneak off to on the way home from school or when she was supposed to be walking to Grandma’s house. Her parents would never come in here, so it wasn’t like they’d ever catch her.

  She was still deliberating over which chocolate bar to buy when she felt the dryness in her throat, and spied the tall fridge of ice-cold drinks cans and bottles. How hadn’t she realised just how thirsty she was? Walking to the refrigerator door, she looked in at the selection of Coke, Sprite, Fanta, and Lilt cans, but the sticker on the front of the door said all bottles were 80p, so she wouldn’t have enough money to buy a drink and a chocolate bar. If only she’d realised she would make this trip out today, she would have raided her piggy bank for another pound. Opening the fridge door, she pulled out the bottle of Fanta.

  Returning to the wall of sweets, she ran her eyes over the selection again. If only she had another twenty pence, she’d be able to buy a Twirl and a bottle of Fanta. Picking up the Twirl, she turned the purple packet over in her hands. If only the shopkeeper would allow her to buy half the Twirl now, she’d have the drink and a taste of chocolate to keep her going. Or maybe, if she asked him really nicely, he’d let her have both if she promised to return and pay the extra twenty pence on another day. It was worth a try.

  ‘Hello,’ a deep voice said from behind her. ‘What’s going on here then?’

  ‘I wasn’t stealing it,’ she said, fear instantly gripping her heart, as she turned to see the tall man in the light-grey suit and tie, hovering over her. ‘I have money.’ She pulled out the pound coin to show him for good measure.

  His eyes didn’t leave hers. ‘I know you, don’t I?’ he asked, his accent not local to the area. ‘You go to St Margaret’s with my daughter.’

  Joanna thought there was something vaguely familiar about his face, but she couldn’t place him as one of the dads of her close friends. But why would he lie? And how else would he know she went to St Margaret’s?

  ‘What’s your daughter’s name?’ she asked.

  He smiled harmlessly. ‘Kim. She’s in Year 4.’

  She knew of a Kim in one of the other classes: a quiet girl with whom she’d had little engagement.

  ‘I think I know who you mean,’ Joanna replied forthrightly, ‘but we’re not in the same class.’

  ‘Ah, I see,’ he replied, looking down at the items she was gripping so tightly. ‘Well now, oh, it looks like you don’t have enough money to buy the drink and the chocolate.’

  She looked down at the two items, deciding her thirst was greater than her hunger, and begrudgingly returned the Twirl to the shelf. She could feel his eyes watching her, but she willed her cheeks not to show her embarrassment.

  ‘I tell you what,’ the man said softly. ‘Twirls are my daughter’s favourite too, and look here, it says you can buy three for the price of two. How about I buy the three, and you can have the free one. That way, I can have one, Kim can have one, and you can have one; we all win.’

  He reached out and picked up two Twirls, and opened his free hand, waiting for her to place the third in it. She knew better than to accept sweets from strangers – that had been drilled in long ago – but this guy wasn’t exactly a stranger; he was Kim’s dad, and he wasn’t asking her to go with him, merely giving her a free chocolate bar. Where was the harm?

  She picked up the bar and placed it in his hand, before following him up to the counter where she paid for her drink, and then waited for him by the door.

  ‘There you go,’ he said, offering the Twirl once they were both outside. ‘I’d better be on my way or Kim’s mum will have my guts for garters. Do you need a lift home?’

  She quickly shook her head. ‘No, I’m fine, thank you.’

  The man pulled up the sleeve of his grey suit jacket and looked at his watch. ‘Are you sure? It is getting late. You live near St Margaret’s, don’t you? I could drop you off there if you want? It’s on my way home.’

  ‘Thank you, but I’m not allowed to go in cars with people I don’t know.’

  He smiled, and held up his hands as if surrendering. ‘That is very sensible! I hadn’t thought about it like that. You’re quite right to be wary, and I only hope Kim is as sensible as you if a man ever offers her a lift home. Well, so long, and it was nice meeting you… Wait, I didn’t catch your name?’

  ‘Joanna,’ she said, thinking nothing of it.

  ‘I’ll tell Kim you said hi, Joanna,’ he replied with another smile.

  He opened the door of the long BMW and climbed in, starting the engine but not pulling away.

  Joanna lingered, waiting to see which direction he would go in, but the car remained stationary. She looked down at her own watch and her eyes widened with panic. She hadn’t realised just how late it was. Her mum and dad would surely have noticed she wasn’t home and would be starting to worry. If she ever wanted to make a sneaky trip back to the newsagent’s shop again, she would have to get home sharpish.

  She looked back along the road, trying to remember which way she’d come, and whether there might be a more direct route home, but she couldn’t even be certain which road she’d come along.

  Moving to the side of the car, she could now see the man was typing something into his mobile phone, but he looked up and smiled warmly when he saw her watching. The electric window lowered, and he leaned over the seat to talk to her.

  ‘Is everything okay, Joanna?’ he asked, with just a hint of concern.

  ‘I wondered,’ she began, ‘if it’s not too much bother… would you be able to give me that lift to the school?’

  He locked his phone, and returned it to his inside jacket pocket. ‘Of course I can. Climb in the back. I think Kim’s booster seat is in there.’

  She heard the rear passenger’s side door unlock, and clambered in, finding no sign of a booster seat. Placing the Fanta and Twirl between her legs, she fastened the seat belt and glanced at her watch again. As the car pulled away, she suddenly realised her parents would be on to her little jaunt if she returned to the house with evidence of the Twirl and Fanta, and would have to try and hide them in the den at the ba
ck of the garden before they saw her. The side gate leading to the garden was bound to be unlocked, and if she was careful, she could sneak to the den, hide the goods, and be back out the gate before either of them saw her.

  Feeling pleased with herself, she pressed her head against the head rest and looked out of the window, determined to remember the route she’d come by so she wouldn’t feel so lost next time. Before she realised, she saw St Margaret’s approaching on the left, and beyond it the entrance to her road. Only the car didn’t slow to a stop, as she expected.

  ‘Um, excuse me, sir,’ she called out timidly, not wishing to upset him, ‘but you just drove past my road.’

  ‘Oh, did I?’ he called out apologetically, staring back at her from the rear-view mirror. ‘My mistake. There’s a roundabout a little way along from here; I’ll turn around there.’