“Pretty much the only thing I could; that we didn’t have the resources for it and Lawrence is a smart lad.”
“He’s also traumatised and physically weak,” I said, rubbing a hand over my forehead, “and his mother seems to be collaborating with a gang that kidnaps and ransoms children.”
“She might not be the villain here,” Stephen said. “We don’t know if they’ve got something over her.”
“True,” I conceded.
As Stephen went to get another cup of tea for his dry mouth, I gave the solicitors a call and was put through almost immediately.
“Any luck?” Stephen asked when he came back. It was someone’s birthday at the station, and they’d brought in a chocolate traybake. Stephen put down a slice on my desk, wrapped in a napkin.
“Thanks,” I said, finding that I was actually quite hungry after I’d taken a bite. “And yes and no. They were reluctant to talk to me, because of confidentiality.” I rolled my eyes in annoyance. “But they toned it down when I insisted, and we’ve got an appointment.”
“When for?” Stephen asked, his mouth full of cake.
“That’s the bad news. It’s in a couple of days time,” I sighed. “They swore they couldn’t do it any sooner.”
“Shame,” Stephen said, before washing his cake down with a sip of tea.
“Aye,” I agreed. I glanced down at my wristwatch. “In the meantime, we’ve got a stakeout to attend.”
“Oh,” Stephen said, surprised. “Is it time for that already?”
I got to my feet, gathering up my coat and pulling it on. “Yep. We’ve still got to drive over there yet.”
Stephen huffed, finishing the last of his cake before he got up. “Why can’t the local station deal with it?”
I frowned at him. “Because the local station doesn't have the personnel for it, you know that. It’s our case, Steph.”
He shot me an apologetic look. “I know, I know. I just don’t like stakeouts. They bore me to death.” He winced. “Sorry, poor choice of words.”
“This one might not turn out to be boring,” I cautioned him. “Boring would be the best thing to happen, in my opinion.”
Stephen put up his hands in pretend surrender. “Alright, I’ll stop complaining, promise.”
I grinned at him. “But then what would you have to talk about?”
He gave me a mock-offended look as we headed downstairs. “Excuse you,” he said lightly, “who’s the resident grump around here? Is it me? I don’t think so, Mitchell.”
I snorted. “Nah, that title belongs to Sedgwick.”
Stephen laughed. “Only when he’s around you. He’s a ray of sunshine any other time.”
I turned, raising my eyebrows at him. “You’re joking, right?” I asked as we headed out of the door and into the car park.
Stephen grinned in response to whatever expression was on my face. “Yeah, I’m just messing with you,” he said. “He’s a grump all the time. Though he does seem to turn it up around you.”
“Wonderful,” I said with a shake of my head. “I have no idea why. I’m actually right charming.”
Stephen snorted at that. “Sure, you are. Bubbly, too.”
I gave him a light shove. “For that, you can drive, dipstick.”
He pressed a hand to his chest, pretending to be wounded. “Damn, you’re cruel.”
I rolled my eyes at him and climbed into the passenger seat. “You could’ve had a nice nap if you’d just agreed with me,” I teased.
He clipped himself in and put the car in gear. “You’ll pay for this later, I promise.”
I chuckled. “I’m shaking in my boots.”
The drive up to the Dales and then our long, uneventful shift watching the farmhouse passed by slowly. Stephen helped to keep the mood light, and we bickered good naturedly over everything from the radio station to which services to drop into on the way back. Still, it felt like there was a heavy weight resting on our shoulders as we sat in the car and looked across the fields at the apparently empty farmhouse.
“I hate that she might be in there,” I said quietly, “thinking that no one's coming for her.” The radio was on quietly in the background, but the other sound was that of the wind butting up against the side of the car in fierce gusts. “We’re so close.”
“Honestly, mate,” Stephen responded after a moment, “I don’t think she’s there. Maybe she was once, but I don’t think Wooding would’ve given us the kid’s real location, you know? In case we had gotten in, they wouldn’t want to be caught red-handed with a kidnapped child.”
I sighed. “Then that’s worse,” I said, “‘cus we have no idea where she is, and we’re wasting our time here.”
Stephen exhaled, reaching over to rub my shoulder. “Hey now, we’re not wasting our time. Lydia might not be here, but these people were connected with her disappearance somehow. Getting our hands on one of them-”
“Could lead us straight to her, I know,” I said. “The waiting’s just killing me. What if they’re not feeding her, like Lawrence?”
Stephen was quiet for a beat. “We’ve got no reason to think that, okay? Lawrence was fed fine while they were with him, right? It was after they abandoned him that he went hungry.”
I nodded. “Thanks.”
“It gets to me, too,” Stephen said quietly. “It’s not just you. I think about my kids being in the same situation, and about Lydia’s parents and the hell they’re going through.” He released a heavy breath before turning to me. “But we’re no use to her or Lawrence if we’re just sad about it, and don’t work to fix it, you know?”
“Aye, I understand. Easier said than done, though.”
He cracked a small smile. “Yeah, you got me there.”
We spent the rest of our shift quietly watching the farmhouse. There was no sign of movement from inside and nothing to report, even as we both kept our eyes on it. Our replacements showed up, and Stephen and I swapped places, so that I could take my turn driving. Stephen raised a hand to the other officers as I turned our car around in the narrow road and drove away, back towards York.
“Can’t say I’m not glad to be done with that.”
“Aye,” I agreed. “You want to stop at Costa on the way home?”
He turned to grin at me. “Do you even need to ask?”
So, we picked up a couple of espresso for me, and Stephen got a milky tea with a chocolate brownie.
“Where do you think we should go next?” Stephen asked.
“In the investigation, you mean?” I asked. He grunted, taking another bite of squishy brownie. “I want to try to get in touch with Wooding again,” I said, deciding as I said it. “I doubt she’ll respond, but I can try.”
Stephen paused. “What would you ask her?”
I chewed my lip. “I’m not exactly sure. Anything that kept her on the phone long enough for the tech team to get a trace on her, I suppose.”
Stephen hummed. “I really can’t believe she could work with people like that, who hurt her son, and who take kids from their parents. She’s a parent herself-”
“Not all parents are you, Steph,” I reminded him. “She didn’t sound like she cared much for Lawrence when we spoke.”
Stephen shook his head. “Then she shouldn’t have had kids,” he said darkly. It was rare that I saw Stephen angry, but this definitely got on his wick. “If you’re not going to love your child no matter what…”
“I know, I agree,” I assured him. “Hopefully Lawrence will have a better time of it with his aunt and uncle, when he shows up again.” I’d said ‘when’ but the ‘if’ hung in the air, heavy as a lead balloon. I had to believe that Lawrence would be okay, if we were to focus on finding Lydia, but I still worried for him.
“We could drop by the hospital,” Stephen suggested, and I turned to look at him with a slight frown.
“Lawrence isn’t at the hospital,” I said, confused.
“No, no, I meant, to see the officers.”
“O
h,” I said. “I mean, they’re probably in Leeds, Steph. It’d be a long drive.”
Stephen exhaled. “Yeah, you’re right. We haven’t really got the time.”
“Gaskell will know how they’re getting on,” I reassured him. “We can ask him back at the station.”
Stephen agreed to that, and we pulled into the station car park not long after. Inside the building, I jogged up the stairs while Stephen took the lift, and we met back at our desks.
“I’ll ask Gaskell,” Stephen said.
I nodded, sitting down at my desk to try calling Ellie Wooding. I used the number she’d called me on to arrange the café meet-up and hoped that she was still using it.
Perhaps predictably, there wasn’t any answer. I tried three times, but the phone rang out each time, without even an answerphone message to tell me that it was definitely her phone. It wouldn’t let me leave a message either, and I wasn’t sure if I wanted Wooding to recognise my number or not. Most likely, now she’d gotten what she wanted, she wouldn’t want to be in touch with me again. My use to her had expired.
Stephen came out of Gaskell’s office a second later, and I tried to read his face as he walked over.
“Well?”
He smiled. “He’s doing okay.” His tone turned more serious as he added, “He needed two blood transfusions, apparently, and he’s out of it. But, considering, he’s doing well.”
I exhaled. “Glad to hear it.”
“Any luck with Wooding?” Stephen asked. I pulled a face, and Stephen nodded, reading the answer to that from my expression. “Oh well,” he sighed. “I’m sure we’ve got other stuff to get on with.”
“Always do,” I said. “And Gaskell sent out an email to all of us. You’ll want to read it.”
Stephen’s eyebrows rose, and he turned on his computer to check it out. He sat back once he’d finished reading it, sending me a querying look. “A meeting this afternoon? Do you know what it’s about?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know any more than you, but I could take an educated guess.”
Stephen looked at me expectantly. “Go on, then.”
I exhaled heavily. “Another raid, is what I’m thinking. With a kid on the line, he can’t let this lead go.”
“Even after how badly it went last time?”
“Look, let’s see how the meeting goes, okay? Then we can talk to him, if we need to.”
“You think this is a good idea?” Stephen asked, frowning.
I hesitated. “I think it’s a better idea than it was last time, when we were doing it according to Wooding’s schedule. This time, it’ll be a surprise attack.”
“Yeah, but they’ve still got guns-”
I patted the air. “I know, Steph. But what can Gaskell do? He can’t keep up the twenty-four-seven watch on the farm forever, can he?”
Stephen clenched his jaw, shaking his head. “I don’t like it.”
“Neither do I. Look, maybe I’m wrong, and Gaskell has another idea entirely. We’ll just have to go and see.”
Privately, I suspected that any raid on the farm would be fruitless. As we’d sat watching the place today, I’d gotten the strong sense that the farm had been abandoned. When exactly they’d done it, with the police watch on it, I didn’t know, but it had felt empty to me. That, or they were all hunkered down in the basement. We’d just have to wait and see.
Twenty-One
The meeting went as I’d predicted, and Stephen and I shared a look when Gaskell announced the decision to do a second raid.
“I don’t take this lightly,” he said solemnly. “I’m fully aware of the consequences of our previous effort. This time will be different.”
He went on to explain their intention to attack in the night, within the next few days. The attacking officers would be entirely made up of those from Leeds, who badly wanted the criminals who’d injured their colleagues brought to justice.
We walked out of the meeting room amidst the chatter of the other officers, but Stephen and I stayed silent until we reached our desks.
“You don’t think it’ll be useful,” Stephen said.
“I honestly don’t know,” I sighed. “I can’t see the future. I just… have the feeling that no-one’s there anymore.”
Stephen inhaled like he was going to argue but stopped at the last moment. “I know, I had the same feeling when we were in the Dales.”
“All we can do right now is wait,” I said tightly.
Stephen sent me a crooked smile. “I don’t know about that. There’s always paperwork to be doing, slacker.”
I rolled my eyes at him. “Okay, okay.”
The next few days passed slowly, with too much time for me to get lost in my head as we did menial jobs and further research. I went to check in with the tech team, but they didn’t have news for us, and Keira wasn’t there either.
At home, I spent the evenings thinking about work even when I tried to focus on reading a book, or when I was out on my runs. The night of the raid was even worse and, after an hour of climbing the walls of my flat, I went out on a hard, fast run. I hadn’t pushed myself so hard for a long time, and it was almost a relief to get caught up in the physical sensations of exertion. It made my head shut up for a brief while.
I arrived back at the flat after nearly two hours, dripping with sweat and the light rain that had been coming down. My curls were completely flattened, and I was thankful not to bump into any of the other residents as I made my way up the stairs.
I went straight for the shower once I got inside, and only checked my phone when I was making myself a cup of tea afterwards, my wet hair dampening the back of my neck.
I’d missed a call from Stephen, who I immediately called back.
“Did you hear anything?” I asked him.
“I hoped that you would’ve,” he said.
I huffed. “I’d call Gaskell, but he probably doesn’t need the distraction.”
Stephen hummed in agreement. “He’ll let us know as soon as he, I’m sure.”
“If he could hurry up about it, that’d be great.”
Stephen made a noise of amusement in his throat. “Maybe you should hang up, then,” he said wryly, “so he can call you.”
I laughed quietly. “That’s actually a sensible suggestion, Huxley.”
“Shocking, I know,” he said.
I bid him goodbye and hung up, turning up the ringer on my phone before I put it down on the table, resigning myself to an evening of anxious waiting.
I made myself a bowl of mac and cheese as comfort food and ate it sitting on the couch, watching an old re-run of The X-Factor, which was about as cringy as I remembered it to be. Tiredness caught up with me around eleven, and I nodded off for a while, my head resting against the back of the sofa.
My ringing phone woke me up, and I startled, disoriented and sluggish. My first thought was that the noise was my morning alarm, but it was still dark outside, and I wasn’t in my bedroom. It clicked finally. I launched myself up off the couch and skidded into the kitchen where I snatched my phone up from the counter.
“Yeah?” I said, slightly out of breath. My eyes were still half-shut with sleep, and my voice came out thick, my throat dry.
“Did I wake you up, Mitchell?” Gaskell’s voice came down the phone. Unlike me, he sounded entirely alert and composed.
“‘Fraid so, sir,” I said, heading over to the tap to grab a glass of water.
“I thought you’d want to know,” Gaskell said, and I went still, listening closely, “the raid didn’t lead to anything. The place was entirely abandoned, and Lydia wasn’t there.”
I cursed, slamming my glass down on the counter. Gaskell’s news might not have been a surprise to me, but it still wasn’t what I wanted to hear.
“Understood, sir,” I said finally. “I’m glad no-one was hurt.”
Gaskell sighed. “I know it’s not the news we all wanted, but it does at least close that lead for now.”
“Good riddance,” I m
uttered, before clearing my throat. “Sorry, sir.”
“I understand the sentiment,” Gaskell said. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Mitchell.”
He hung up before I could reply, and I sighed, pressing a hand to my face. A minute later, I gave Stephen a call to update him. His reaction was almost identical to mine.
“This damn case,” he muttered.
“Aye, I know.”
I heard a voice in the background of his call, and he was silent for a moment. “I gotta go,” he said quietly. “My girl’s awake upstairs.”
I frowned, remembering how sick she’d been not so long ago. “I hope she’s okay.”
“Yeah, she will be, don’t worry. She’s much better these days, and her inhaler is a godsend. See you tomorrow, bright and early.”
“Bright and early,” I repeated tiredly. “Oh, joy.”
Stephen chuckled quietly. “With you around,” he said lightly, “it’s always a joy.”
I snorted. “Go get some sleep. You sound delirious.”
He laughed, signing off a moment later to attend to his daughter upstairs.
I was left alone in my quiet apartment, and I rubbed my face. My bed called to me, but I wasn’t sure that I’d be able to get any more sleep after that news. The moment I slid into bed, the pull of sleep proved stronger than my troubled thoughts after all, and I dropped off almost immediately.
The next morning found me feeling surprisingly well-rested, but lethargic alongside it, and I was into my second cup of coffee by the time Stephen arrived. The dark shadows under his eyes spoke to a night of less restful sleep than mine.
“Everything okay?”
He smiled. “I’m peachy.” He reached over to snag my mug, taking a swallow of my coffee before I wrestled it back off him.
“Hey! Get your own caffeine fix!”
“But it tastes so much when it’s stolen.”
“Says the police officer,” I laughed, wrapping my hands around my mug.
Stephen held up his hands. “Fine, fine.” He ambled off to get his own drink, and I returned to my screen.
We were due to visit the solicitor later this morning, but until then, I had reports to write up and plenty to be getting along with. If we ever ran out of immediate leads for our case, there were always other cases that could use an extra pair of hands. Unlike Lockdale, where a quiet week could mean we’d had nothing more than a bit of teenage drinking, we weren’t ever short on work here. It was merely a case of how high intensity the work was and how many cases the department was juggling at the same time that decided whether a week here was the regular brand of busy, or absolute chaos.
The Stolen Children Page 20