look. It might be nothing, I whisper to myself, running my tongue over dry lips. I step close to the fence, careful not to place my feet anywhere near the drag marks, and peer into the field beyond. I see nothing at first, until I slide through the opening in the fence and into the field. The damp grass near the fence has been flattened down, and a trail of bent stems lead away from the fencing towards the other side of the field – as though someone has walked a path through the longer grass. I look behind me, telling myself that if Jess is in sight I’ll call her over, but there is no one. From here, I can’t even hear the searchers calling Laurel’s name. Stepping to one side, so I create my own path, I follow the trail over the slight hill, stopping short as I see where the path of flattened grass leads to.
A camp. There are eight or nine caravans parked up on the far side of the field, no doubt having forced their way in by cutting the padlock off the gate on the other side. It’s happened more times than anyone cares to mention in Oxbury; the travellers’ arrival usually gets reported to both the police and the council within hours of them pitching up. Nice middle-class people from Surrey don’t want travellers in their midst. Obviously, this time the police have been too busy to come out and move them on, and if they only arrived last night there’s a chance that no one else has even noticed them yet. I force my feet on towards the camp, ignoring the flip of my stomach as I get closer, nervous at having to speak to them. The only experience I’ve had of them before was when one of them threatened to smash up the Co-op after he got caught pinching bacon, while I was buying sweets for Laurel. As I get closer, I see two men standing outside one of the caravans, both turning to face me as I get within talking distance.
‘Hello,’ I say, my mouth dry again. They are both tall and well-built, their skin tanned a dark brown, roll-up cigarettes dangling from their mouths. Neither of them wears shirts with sleeves despite the cold, and I see the tattoos on one of them ripple as he raises a hand to push his hair back from his face, his dark curls dotted with droplets of water from the mist.
He speaks, his voice rough. ‘What d’yer want?’
‘I’m looking for a little girl,’ I say, running my tongue over my lips. ‘She went missing from the fireworks party in the field over there last night,’ I point behind the trees, ‘there’s a huge search operation being organised by the police.’
With an anxious glance at his friend, the tattoo guy speaks again. ‘We don’t know nothing.’
‘Are you sure you haven’t seen anything? No one coming through here last night …’ I break off, about to mention the drag marks and the cut in the fence before common sense catches up with me.
‘We said, we don’t know nothing.’ The second, slightly smaller guy takes a step towards me and I flinch a little, hating myself straight away for looking so weak. Adrenaline shoots through me, leaving my knees wobbly. ‘Get lost.’
‘OK, thank you. Forget it, I’m going. Sorry,’ I babble, almost falling over myself to get back through the fence to where other people are. I’m intent on finding a police officer to explain about the drag marks, then I can go home and check on Fran and wait for Laurel, and forget about the intense, intimidating stare that these two guys laid on me. And I would forget, only …
I stop, something moving in my line of vision, something that makes my breath catch in my throat. I see it again, from the corner of my eye, the thing that made me stop in my tracks and I turn my head a fraction towards the caravan immediately behind the two men.
‘I’m going,’ I say again, holding my shaking hands up in surrender, as they both take a step towards me, my heart thumping double time in my chest as I try and process what I just glimpsed. The back of a head, at the window of the caravan. A tiny, blonde head, with a high ponytail, that I’m sure I last saw being stuffed into a sparkly silver bobble hat.
I manage to walk calmly away, resisting the urge to run until I reach the mesh fencing and I am sure I am out of sight of the two travellers. I squeeze my way hurriedly through the tiny gap, the sharp cut edge of the fence slicing into my fingertip, catching my jacket as I go. Shit. I’ve probably contaminated a crime scene now as well. My shoes sliding on the damp, muddy forest floor, I rush back towards the field, branches grabbing at me, my hair falling over my face and my breath coming in short hitches that strike up the stitch in my side again. Coming out of the woods I look around, hoping to see a police officer, or Jess at the very least, but everyone seems to be tied up, busy with their own searches so I push on towards the school hall.
Falling through the double doors, I call out, ‘Is there a police officer here?’ A sob catches in my throat and I have to work hard to swallow it back down, not wanting to lose it in front of the volunteers.
‘Oh gosh, you need to sit down, here, come this way.’ The mousy woman from the PTA appears by my side, her hand grabbing at my forearm and tugging me towards a chair. ‘Let me help you.’
‘I don’t need to sit down.’ I shake myself free impatiently, trying to see over the tops of people’s heads to catch a glimpse of DI Dove, or perhaps Dominic.
‘Anna? There you are.’ Jess appears from the throng of people that have edged their way towards me. ‘I waited for you and you never came … look at the state of you. Oh God, you’re bleeding!’ She grasps my hand tightly. ‘What happened?’
I glance down at the mud that cakes my shoes and splatters up the legs of my jeans. A thin trickle of blood stains my fingertips where I caught myself on the mesh, and there is a long rip in the arm of my jacket from the fencing. I can feel the sweat break out over my skin again. ‘A police officer, Jess. Are there any still here or are they all doing the door-to-door?’
‘I’m here,’ a voice says behind me, and I turn to see DI Dove.
‘Oh, thank God.’ I resist the urge to throw myself on him in relief. ‘I found something, out there on the other side of the woods.’
‘OK,’ Dove pulls me to one side, away from prying eyes and straining ears. ‘What did you find? Tell me.’
‘At the edge of the woods – where it meets Briars Meadow – the fencing has been cut. There are drag marks … I crawled through it, and they’re there …’
‘Whoa, not so fast.’ DI Dove waves his hand up and down in a gesture designed to slow me. ‘Who is there?’
‘The travellers,’ I say, my breathing finally calming. ‘There are eight or nine caravans, all parked in the field, in the usual spot. There are drag marks, like feet, leading to the cut in the fence and then the grass is all beaten down as though someone has walked through there. But that’s not it. I saw her.’
‘You saw her? Who? Laurel?’ A spark gleams in his eye and I see why he is a detective – he loves the thrill of the chase.
‘I think so. I saw her hair. It’s in a high ponytail, she was sitting in the window of one of the caravans. I’m sure it was her. You have to go! You have to go and see if it really is her!’ My voice rises, and several people glance our way. There is no sign of Dominic, and I hope that they find him before someone tells him I saw something. DI Dove looks around, one hand on my shoulder.
‘We need someone to take you home,’ he says, as I shake my head.
‘I can take her,’ a voice pipes up, and it’s her again, the mousy woman.
‘No, I’m not leaving. I need … I want to be here when you bring Laurel back.’
‘Anna, it might not even be Laurel. And I need you to be with Fran, she’s on her own … I mean, Kelly is there, but it’s best if either you or Dominic stay with her. Just in case.’ Just in case there’s bad news. That’s what he means. Reluctantly I give a slow nod, just as Jess arrives at my side.
‘Come on,’ she says, giving a curious glance in DI Dove’s direction. ‘I have to take Daisy