It had already been an exhausting search. There were plenty of dodgy drinking dens near Southampton docks and Charlie would have to visit them all. Eyes darted and ears pricked up the moment she entered. Despite dressing down, she was still too attractive, too fresh, for these places and the clientele were instantly intrigued or in some cases on their guard. No one afforded her a warm welcome and she was starting to get disheartened when finally she got a break.
Louise Tanner, or Louie as she was known locally, was a regular at the Anchor. She’d be here at some point. All you had to do was sit and wait.
Was this progress? It was better than nothing, so Charlie bought herself a drink and took a corner seat at the back. It afforded her a good view of the entrance without revealing herself and would be a good vantage point.
She tried to imagine what Louise might look like. They only had her official police association photo to go on and that was years old. Then she was a muscular officer, with blonde hair tied tight back in a ponytail and a slight gap between her front teeth. Not attractive you’d say, but nonetheless an imposing and impressive character. Her physical strength had come in handy when she and Helen had pulled those people to safety, but the aftermath revealed a distinct lack of mental strength. You can never tell how you might react to a traumatic experience, but whereas Helen Grace had managed to bottle it up, or clamp it down or deal with it in some way, Louise Tanner hadn’t. Was it the burn injuries on some of the young victims? Was it the driver crushed between bus and pillar? Was it the heat, the smell, the fear and the darkness? Whatever it was, Louise struggled to shrug off the after-effects. She had counselling, halved her hours and had all the support you would expect, but a year later she quit.
Colleagues and friends tried to stay in touch, but Louise became increasingly aggressive and bitter. People said she drank too much, even speculated that she might be involved in petty crime. And one by one they broke contact with her, until in the end there was no one, not even her family, who could positively vouch for where she was. Her life could not have contrasted more unfavourably with Helen’s, who had shot to the top of her profession and now enjoyed the money and status that came with the rank of Detective Inspector. Tanner somehow blamed Helen for her problems, hence the hate mail which she occasionally sent to Southampton nick. Helen had let it go, but it proved useful now, the Southampton postmark revealing that Tanner still lived locally. There had been the occasional Southampton sighting and Helen’s gut instinct was that Louise wouldn’t stray far from what she knew. Which is why Charlie was now clutching a tepid orange juice at the back of one of the nastiest pubs she’d ever been in.