Ben sat at his desk staring at the results of the blood analysis. It was, in fact, Sophie Quinn's blood that was found on the outside of the family home. He didn't like the results, but he did expect them. Especially after Lucy had told him yesterday about Sophie being assaulted.
"Jones," Tom acknowledged him as he arrived.
"Morning, sir. Blood results came back. It is Sophie Quinn's blood,"
"Right. Let's go back to the house, and question the parents about the bloody lip you were told about, shall we?"
Jones nodded. He thought there was nothing more he'd rather do, save for actually finding the girl safe and sound. He knew however, that the likelihood of that was tragically slim.
When the pair arrived at the Quinn home they asked to see Sophie's room. Jones took the task while Barnaby questioned the mother again.
"Why, may I ask, is your daughter still living at home?"
"We like having her here,"
"Well, of course. I liked having my own daughter at home as well, but when she grew up she left home. As most young adults do,"
Sophie's mother shrugged. Her hollow eyes looked at nothing in particular.
"One of her coworkers said that she came into work sporting a busted lip a few days ago,"
"She fell off her bike,"
"I see," Tom said.
Meanwhile, Jones placed a gloved hand under Sophie's mattress. Nothing. Next he tried her dresser. Nothing of note there either. Quite literally. There were seven pairs of socks, three pairs of underwear, a pair of gloves and that was all. The remaining drawers were completely empty.
Jones looked around the room. It was tidy, but not hard to be. It seemed to be just the bare minimum. A bed, dresser, lamp.
He blew out a frustrated sigh. His eyes went to her closet. As he scanned through the clothing he realized she only had eight hangers. Three shirts, three pants and two skirts.
"What the…" Jones whispered under his breath.
"Sir," Jones called.
Tom appeared in the doorway.
"Sir, I'm not sure what to make of this," he jutted his thumb towards the closet. "What woman only has 3 shirts?"
Tom pondered.
"And something else," Jones added.
"What's that?"
Jones pulled out the empty drawers one by one.
"Also, she's got no pajamas. Isn't that odd?"
"It is," Tom agreed. "Find a diary? Pictures? A mobile?"
"Nothing, sir," Jones shook his head.
"All right. Let's go,"
On their way out, Barnaby questioned the mother as to why her daughter only had a few pieces of clothing. She shrugged it off as being frugal. He took the answer and they left. Once in the car Jones looked toward his DI.
"I want to talk to the father," he said.
"We've had the same idea. Let's go catch him at work. He's the gamekeeper at the Arden Estate," Tom replied.
Mr. Quinn wasn't hard to spot. He was a large, and imposing man. Graying hair, and a beard to match. He was fixing a fence near the property line, exactly where the estate manager said he would be.
"Mr. Quinn," Tom called.
Quinn slammed the hammer down on top of the post. "Have you found her?"
"Not yet, I'm afraid," Barnaby answered.
"Is there any chance she might have run away?" Ben asked.
Mr. Quinn looked up at them, "Not if she knows what's good for her. Putting us through this," he stopped and shook his head.
"What can you tell us about an altercation your daughter was involved in a few days ago?" Tom asked.
Looking straight into Tom's eyes, the father said, "I don't know anything about that,"
"What about a boyfriend? Was Sophie seeing anyone?"
"You know how young girls are," Mr. Quinn eyed Ben.
"I'm not sure I do," he replied.
"She was always throwing herself at some man,"
Ben made a note in his notebook.
"How often do you work here at the estate?" Tom asked.
"Most days I'm around here," Quinn replied.
"Okay. That'll be all for now. We'll be in touch,"
Once the pair of policemen were back in the car, Jones turned to Barnaby.
"Sir, I think we should get the dogs out to the Quinn house. Maybe they can track her from her blood,"
"It's been almost two days," Tom said.
"It's going to rain tonight. If we're going to try, it has to be now,"
Tom started the car and shifted out of park.
"All right, Jones. Well try the dogs,"