Proof of Life
MILLER SIX
PROOF OF LIFE
Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
PART 2
Part Three
Chapter Thirty-Three
Part Four
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Part Five
Chapter Thirty-Seven
SIX MONTHS LATER
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Epilogue
Proof of Life
Copyright © Steven Suttie 2018
Published by Steven Suttie 2018
Steven Suttie has asserted his rights under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 to be identified as the author of this work.
This novel is a work of fiction. Names and characters are the product of the author’s imagination and any resemblance to any persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
Cover design by Steven Suttie
Font type Calibri Light
P/B 1st Edition – published 18th May 2018
Kindle 1st Edition – published 18th May 2018
I’d like to dedicate this book to my mum.
(But more on that later.)
I’d like to take this opportunity to thank my loyal and growing gang of readers. I really do appreciate your support, your kind comments and your endless likes and shares on social media. It is very humbling, and I hope you don’t mind me borrowing your names to use for the characters in my stories.
I hope you enjoy this brand new Miller adventure ??
Prologue
Wednesday 15th May
Greenlife Windows Factory, Stalybridge
“Right, thanks for coming.” Said Susan McKenzie, the head of Human Resources. “Please take a seat.”
Mike Jenkins pulled the chair back abruptly and slumped into the chair. His supervisor Terry Holdsworth looked at him disapprovingly.
“Right Mike, I think you know why we are here?” said Susan in a soft but authoritative tone. Mike shrugged and glared at the table top. He began fidgeting with his mucky hands.
“Terry, just for the avoidance of doubt, can you please inform Mike why we have called the meeting.”
Terry looked embarrassed having to discuss the details in front of a lady. He took a deep breath.
“Well, it’s been said by a few people that it was Mike who blocked the toilets up and flooded the lavs.”
“Do you have anything to say about that Mike?” asked Susan, ever-so-nicely.
“Yes, I do as it goes. I’m sick of getting blamed for anything that goes on around here. I’m not even allowed to take a dump now!” Mike let out an exaggerated breath of frustration. It fooled neither of his superiors, who looked at one another. Susan could see that Terry felt awkward with this, so she took the lead.
“Well Mike, we’re all adults, so let’s put a stop to the pretence. You’ve been seen walking around the factory with a model poo that you made out of malt loaf. We’ve got it on the factory CCTV where you were moulding it in your hands and laughing to yourself. You were clearly seen pushing bits of sweetcorn into it, as well.”
Mike let out another rasp of air, continuing to stare at both of his hands on the table top.
“You’ve been seen leaving your model poo on other members of staff’s work benches all morning. And now, a very similar looking object has blocked the toilets and flooded them. Now if you can present me with your model poo, we’ll know that this wasn’t the object that blocked up the toilet.” Susan paused dramatically.
“Can you?”
Mike puffed out again. After a long pause he defiantly said “No.”
“Well, as you are aware this isn’t your first warning for your general conduct in the workplace. So, under the circumstances, I’m afraid that we have no alternative, we are going to suspend you…”
“Is this a joke?” snapped Mike.
“…on full pay, while we do a thorough investigation,” continued Susan, without acknowledging the outburst. “We’ll write to you to invite you to a further meeting in due course. Now I must ask you to leave the premises immediately, and don’t come back until you have been invited to do so.” Susan retained a professional expression as Mike angrily stood and pushed the chair away with the back of his legs.
“Absolute joke! This firm is going down the pan!” He said huffily.
Without hesitation Susan looked up and replied. “Which is more than can be said for the malt-loaf turd.”
Mike stormed out of the meeting room, leaving the door wide-open as he stomped down the corridor.
“Thirty-five years old that bloke,” said Terry. “You’d not guess it would you? My grandkids are more mature!”
“I know. But did you say he’s a good worker?” asked Susan, now displaying her usual, friendly smile.
“When he puts his back into it, he’s the best grafter on the shop-floor. But once he starts mucking about, he’s just a pain in the neck.” Terry looked genuinely frustrated.
“Right, well don’t worry. We’ll sort it. Thanks Terry.”
Susan touched Terry’s shoulder lightly, feeling quite charmed by how embarrassed the supervisor had been by the malt-loaf incident. “You’re a real gentleman.”
“Oh, it’s his lad I feel sorry for. My son goes to the same school as Mike’s lad. He’s forever turning up with a black-eye or a swollen jaw. I’m just hoping Mike doesn’t take this out on the youngster.”
Chapter One
DCI Andy Miller was standing in the rain outside a scruffy-looking red-bricked terraced house in Urmston. He and his colleague DI Keith Saunders were here on an unscheduled visit to interview a witness to a shooting which had occurred a few days earlier. The witness had already given an account to CID officers when the incident had happened, but the victim of the shooting had since died, and the case had become much more serious now, and had been handed up to Miller and his team at the Serious Crimes Investigation Unit. It was suspected that this shooting was linked to another one, two weeks earlier, seven miles away in Fallowfield.
But the witness wasn’t answering the door.
“She’s definitely in. I heard her shouting at someone when we first arrived.”
“I know. I saw the curtain twitch a minute ago.” Said Saunders quietly out of the side of his mouth.
“Well, she won’t know us. She might think we’re just debt-collectors or summat.” Miller was feeling grumpy as the relentless rain bounced up from the pavement.
“Hello, Lisa Cummiskey. Are you in there? It’s the police!” Shouted Saunders through the letterbox. There was an unmistakable smell released from the flap, the mouth-watering waft of bacon frying.
“Hello Lisa, it’s the police. Need a quick word about the shooting you witnessed on Friday.” Saunders was speaking politely. But there was still no response.
“Lisa!” He raised his voice this time. Saunders was also getting sick of this rain, he was soaked to the bone.
“Nah, she’s having none of it. Probably scared, I bet some mate has warned her off helping us when she’s told them that she’s given a statement. It’s understandable, I suppose. Come on.” Miller walked towards his car, got in, and looked around to the back-seat to find something to dry his face and hands with. There was nothing, so he took his jacket off and used his shirt sleeves to try and soak up some of the water.
“Jesus. We should have phoned first.”
“The number she left with CID won’t connect. I think this Lisa Cummiskey wants to forget about the whole thing.”
“What are you going to do?” asked Saunders, himself wriggling out of his soaking coat. The windows in the car were steaming up.
“I’ll send Jo round. She’ll sort it.” Miller was talking about one of his DCs, Jo Rudovsky, the department’s specialist “people-person.”
“Yeah, that’ll work.”
Miller turned the car’s ignition key, and began blasting the windows with the hot-air in a bid to de-steam them, when his phone started ringing.
“It’s Dixon,” he said as he pulled the phone from his pocket. “Hello Sir.”
“Oh, Andy, hello. It’s Dixon.” Miller looked at Saunders and they both grinned.
“Yes, hi Sir,” said Miller again, trying not to laugh at Dixon’s weird telephone manner.
“Where are you?”
“I’ll give you a clue Sir, I’m currently in the town which is only famous for being the birthplace of Morrisey.”
“Morrisey who?” asked Dixon, sounding a little eager to get on with the conversation.
“Urmston, Sir. The town that inspired such wonderful songs as Everyday is like Sunday, and Heaven knows I’m Miserable Now.”
“Right, well, I need a word actually. When will you be back here?”
“Not sure Sir, got a few interviews to do about the fatal shooting in Stretford on Friday.”
“Oh, I see. Well, something’s come up. I might need to take you off this one.”
“Oh? What’s come in?”
“Well, a schoolboy was reported missing a few days ago. He’s known to run away from home, long history apparently. He’d been gone overnight when his father rang it in.”
“How old?”
“Fifteen.”
“And how long has he been missing?”
“Six days.”
“Oh right. Shit. It’s Wednesday today, so he was last seen Thursday?”
“That’s right, as we understand it.”
“But presumably something’s come to light?” Miller knew that his elite detectives wouldn’t be dragged into a missing teenager enquiry, especially one who had a history of disappearing, unless there was a very good reason.
“Yes, something rather peculiar has come up. His teacher has also disappeared, at roughly the same time from what we understand. The two have a very strained relationship. It’s starting to look extremely iffy.”
Miller looked across at Saunders in the passenger seat. They both raised their eyebrows.
“Okay, well if you can reallocate this murder investigation, I’ll head back to HQ and we’ll get cracking.”
“Thank you, Andy. Come straight up to my office when you get back, I’ve got the file on my desk. I’ll pass your shooting case back to Stretford CID. It has now slipped down our priority list somewhat.”
Chapter Two
Miller and Saunders listened carefully to their boss, DCS Dixon, as he gave an overview of this rather suspicious missing-persons inquiry. Once they’d been informed of the basics and heard the essential details about each missing person, coupled with the fact that an altercation had taken place at the school between the two missing persons the previous Thursday morning, Miller and Saunders both recognised that this was going to be a significant investigation.
They finished up with Dixon and headed down to the SCIU floor. All of the team’s detectives were in the office. DC Rudovsky and her partner DC Peter Kenyon were working on their investigation, while DCs Bill Chapman, Mike Worthington and Helen Grant were all working individually on their own case-loads. They all looked surprised to see their superiors, DI Saunders, and DCI Miller walking back into the office.
“Aw, we thought we’d got rid of you two for the day!” said Rudovsky, with a disappointed look on her face.
“Oh, aye?” said Miller. “Planning an early dart were you Jo?”
“No. Nothing like that Sir. I just can’t stand looking at your face. So, its ace when it’s not here.”
“It’s hard to believe that you’re angling for a promotion Jo. It really is.” Miller smiled at the DC and nudged Saunders to follow him into his office. Saunders closed the door.
“Right mate, sit down. You heard what Dixon said about this lot.” Miller threw the file onto his desk, and sat down himself. “Got any thoughts?”
Saunders thought for a few seconds. There was no evidence of any crimes taking place. All that existed was a very dodgy looking coincidence. Eventually, he spoke.
“I think it’s quite strange. But I’m not jumping the gun just yet Sir. Dixon gave me the impression that he’s come to the conclusion that some harm has come to the young lad, and that the teacher is responsible. I’ve not quite reached that conclusion yet. So, I’ll proceed cautiously with an open-mind for now.”
“Well, that’s best practise Keith. But it does stink, it has to be said.”
“I’m not so sure. I’ll know more once I’ve looked into the teacher’s background, and sussed out what this young lad is all about.” Saunders was undoubtedly the department’s sharpest detective and his success was largely down to his very level-headed approach to his work. Miller smiled as he lifted the top sheet of the file and headed across to the photo-copier.
“Fair point, well put.” Said the senior officer. “Okay, well if it’s okay, I’ll leave you to dig about in these two’s backgrounds, while I pop down to the school and see if I can crack this case before you do.”
“Excellent. Sounds like a plan Sir.”
“Ask organised crime to apply for bank information on all of Mr Pollard’s accounts. It will take about twenty-four hours to turn-around but the early bird catches the worm.”
“Other clichés are available.”
“When I get back, we’ll compare notes and discuss whether we think we can cope, or if we need the others to jump off their work-loads and work on this.”
“Okay. But let’s hope that’s not the case Sir, we’re drowning in work. Could really do with the team staying put with their own stuff really.”
Miller took the photocopy from the tray and handed the master file to Saunders.
“Noted. Okay, catch you in a bit. And if you solve this mystery before I get back, I’ll have your guts for garters!”
Chapter Three
Miller arrived at the missing boy’s school, Astley High in Stalybridge, and was shocked to see that there were several press reporters standing outside the main doors. As he grabbed his coat and briefcase off the back-seat of his car, he quickly worked out that any press-leak had come directly from the school. This angered Miller, as he slammed the door shut and pressed the lock on his key-fob. He walked quickly towards the school’s main doors, keen to get inside before the rain started up again.
“DCI Miller! Are you treating this as an abduction scenario?” Asked a Granada Reports repr
esentative.
“Is it true that the missing pupil was recently assaulted in the school by the teacher?” Shouted a man waving a BBC Radio Manchester microphone.
“Do you have names for the missing people?”
There were several other questions but Miller avoided them all politely. From what he could gather from the questions, the press had a very vague understanding of the situation. That was good news in terms of identifying the source of the leak but the fact that they were aware of any details at all this early into the investigation was extremely frustrating.
The press had no idea how irritated Miller was, as he stepped through the barrage of questions. The only thing the well-known DCI said to them was, “good afternoon.”
Once inside, Miller tapped on the glass of the office window. A rather stressed-looking lady in her fifties came across and slid the glass along its glider.
“I’ve already told your colleagues, we’re not releasing any official statements at the present time.” She looked like she wanted Miller to piss off.
“Sorry, I’m not with them. I’m DCI Miller, I’ve just been handed the case.”
The receptionist looked embarrassed, and the expression on her face was confirmed as her cheeks turned red.
“Oh, I see. Have you an appointment?”
“Well, no… I thought, under the circumstances…”
“Sure, sure, come on through.” The lady pressed a big green button, like something off a TV gameshow, and the door clicked. Miller nodded politely and headed through. She met him on the other-side of the doors.
“Sorry. Shall we start again?” She asked, extending her hand. For the first-time, Miller began to realise what a stressful morning this lady must have had. “I’m Mrs Horsfield. I’m the school secretary. We’ve just had the morning from hell, the phone has been non-stop, newspapers, radios, television news. And now this lot have turned up unannounced. I’m sorry, I just assumed you were with them.”