Back What Falls Between the Cracks
Chapters (41)
  1. Cover
  2. WHAT FALLSBETWEEN THE CRACKS
  3. DEDICATION
  4. CONTENTS
  5. PROLOGUE
  6. CHAPTER ONE
  7. CHAPTER TWO
  8. CHAPTER THREE
  9. CHAPTER FOUR
  10. CHAPTER FIVE
  11. CHAPTER SIX
  12. CHAPTER SEVEN
  13. CHAPTER EIGHT
  14. CHAPTER NINE
  15. CHAPTER TEN
  16. CHAPTER ELEVEN
  17. CHAPTER TWELVE
  18. CHAPTER THIRTEEN
  19. CHAPTER FOURTEEN
  20. CHAPTER FIFTEEN
  21. CHAPTER SIXTEEN
  22. CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
  23. NATASHA – APRIL 1983
  24. CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
  25. NATHAN – APRIL 1983
  26. CHAPTER NINETEEN
  27. NATASHA – APRIL 1983
  28. CHAPTER TWENTY
  29. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
  30. GEORGE – APRIL 1983
  31. CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
  32. GEORGE – APRIL 1983
  33. CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
  34. MARY – APRIL 1983
  35. GEORGE – APRIL 1983
  36. CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
  37. GEORGE – APRIL 1983
  38. EPILOGUE
  39. ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
  40. BY ROBERT SCRAGG
  41. ABOUT THE AUTHOR

There had been over nine thousand pounds in the account back in 1983. That would have stood out to Porter as a healthier than average balance even today. The birth certificate they had tracked down said she would have been twenty-one back then. Set against the context of her age, plus the fact the balance was from over thirty years ago, that was a staggering amount for her to have just lying around in a current account.

He was trying to figure out how to work out the modern day equivalent, taking inflation into consideration, when he heard Styles end the call he’d been making. Styles had specialised in financial crime before he’d made the move across to the Homicide and Serious Crime squad. Porter was sure that his partner was the man to ask, and swivelled around to face him.

‘Anything from the door to door?’ asked Styles before Porter could open his mouth.

‘More of the same,’ said Porter, shaking his head. ‘No one’s laid eyes on her full stop. I’ve got something you can help me with, though,’ he said, picking up the bank statement, and explaining what he was trying to do.

‘Yep, that’s easily done,’ said Styles. He turned to face his monitor and one quick Google search later, had a site up that promised to do the calculation for them. ‘How much did you say she had?’ he asked.

‘A little over nine grand.’

‘What I’d give for that now, never mind thirty years ago,’ said Styles. He tapped the figure into a box, used a drop-down menu to select the year in question, and clicked the button to calculate. He looked at the result, then sat back and whistled through his teeth.

‘That look right to you?’ asked Porter.

‘’Bout three times that in today’s money – yep, looks around what I was expecting.’

‘Where the hell does a twenty-one-year-old get that kind of cash from?’ Porter rubbed his hand over his chin, feeling tiny pricks of Braille-like stubble that he’d missed with his razor.

‘Have we found anyone we can ask the question to yet?’

Porter shook his head. ‘Not quite, but I found out a few interesting things before I got distracted with the update on the neighbours.’