11
Kate stared at the two photos on her computer screen. Gabe Kemp and David Lamb were both handsome young men—or they had been.
There had been a surprising number of men called Gabe Kemp online, scores of Facebook profiles, and there were even more David Lamb profiles. Kate had started to make a list when she thought her first search should be the UK Missing Persons Unit. When she’d been a police officer, the first place she always looked were criminal records, and then missing persons. She didn’t have access to the former, but the UK Missing Persons Unit was a free public internet search site where you could find the details of any person who’d been reported missing in the UK. Kate had only their names and that they were male, but she instantly found one missing person profile for David Lamb and one for Gabe Kemp.
The photo used for David was from an instant passport photo booth. He had short, spiky brown hair, brown eyes, olive skin, and a confident, pouty stare. He wore a white V-neck T-shirt and a gold chain. David Lamb had been reported missing in June 1999 in Exeter, but the address listed was “No fixed abode.” His birth date was June 14, 1980.
“Just nineteen,” said Kate, staring at the photo. There were two photos on the profile, and she clicked forward to the second. It looked to be taken from the same photo booth at the same time. In the second, David was grinning. He had beautiful teeth and dimples, and he was looking to one side. Kate stared at it and wondered if there had been a friend on the other side of the photo booth curtain, making him laugh.
Gabe Kemp had been reported missing in Plymouth, forty-three miles from Exeter, in April 2002. He was also listed as living at “No fixed abode.” Like David, he was dark haired and over six feet tall. There was one photo of Gabe where he was sitting on a set of steps, smoking a cigarette. It looked like it had been cut out of a larger photo—one side of the picture was square, but the opposite side had a curved edge running past Gabe’s head and shoulder. He had a harsh beauty. Chiseled features, and a shaved head. It said his eyes were brown, but the photo must have been taken at night, because the flash had given him red-eye.
Kate saved both images and then went back to Google, inputting the details of the two young men. There were no social media profiles for either of them, and there were no articles about them going missing.
Kate sat back and rubbed her eyes, feeling tired and hungry. Her urge to drink was itching at the back of her throat. It was like an old friend, the craving for alcohol. She looked up at the calendar and counted back. Her last meeting was eight days ago. Kate checked her watch. It was eight forty-five p.m.; if she left right away, she could just make the nine o’clock AA meeting in Ashdean.
Kate grabbed her bag and car keys, pulled on her thick fleece, and left the office.
It was just after ten p.m. when Tristan left the Boar’s Head with Ade. They’d ordered food, and the conversation had moved on from Noah Huntley and George, but Tristan was turning it over in his head when they parted at the bottom of the seafront and he started back to his flat.
There was still the faint glow of dusk on the horizon, and the bars and clubs were now busy with students queuing up outside. He ran into Kate just before his flat.
“Hey,” he said, surprised to see her.
“Evening,” she replied with a smile. “The only parking spot I could find was outside your flat. I’ve just been to a meeting.”
Tristan didn’t feel the need to comment on it. Kate going to meetings was now par for the course.
“I was going to ring you; I’ve just had a very interesting conversation with my friend Ade about Noah Huntley,” he said.
“Yeah? I have some news too,” said Kate. She looked across the road. There was a burger van that set up on the esplanade to catch the students who got the munchies when the pubs closed. The smell made her stomach rumble. “I haven’t had dinner; do you fancy a burger?”
Tristan had already eaten, but the smell of the grilling meat was making his mouth water. He smiled and nodded. They joined the short line at the burger van, ordered cheeseburgers, and then took the steps down onto the beach.
The air was still, and the tide was now far out. A group of students had lit a fire close to the water’s edge, and a couple of dreadlocked young men were throwing logs onto the bright blaze. Sparks flew up into the air, and voices whooped and laughed. They found a quiet spot and sat down on the dry sand. Kate bit into the huge steaming burger.
“My God, this is good,” she said, adding through a mouthful, “The sesame bun is the pièce de résistance.” Tristan took a big bite and nodded. The juicy, tender beef and cheese melted in his mouth. He ate fast and finished when Kate was still halfway through her burger. He told her what he’d found out about Noah Huntley.