The Stolen Children

by Oliver Davies

  “Agreed,” Gaskell said. “To be frank with you both, I’m not entirely sold on this idea, but I’ll trust you to handle it. You know the case best. You have your supporting officers, Mitchell, use them.”

  “Thank you, sir,” I said, touched that he’d trust us to lead as we saw best.

  He dismissed us with a nod, and I sat back down at my desk with a renewed sense of determination.

  “What now, boss?” Stephen said, smiling slightly as he sensed my improved mood.

  “Now we talk to the parents,” I said. “We need to get them involved again, and their approval on this.”

  “I wish we had better news for them.”

  “As do I, but we will do soon.” I hoped that saying it confidently would make it happen.

  “And the plan after that?” Stephen asked.

  I sent him a look. “Why’d you assume I have a plan for after that?” I asked. “We only decided on a direction to take a few minutes ago?”

  Stephen sent me an endearingly crooked smile. “Because you’re an overachieving overthinker and I bet you’ve got some sort of an idea?”

  I couldn’t help but huff a laugh. “That was the most backhanded compliment I’ve ever received, thanks, Huxley. My only other idea was that we could try talking to those kids again. Alex was a great help last time. We wouldn’t have gotten this far without him.”

  Stephen’s expression became more serious. “Yeah, underestimating how much kids notice is a mistake. So we’ll ask them, what? Where she might have run off to?”

  “That’s what I was thinking… which isn’t the strongest plan, I’m aware. We can try the usual things first; on the ground searches near the kidnapper’s base, checking CCTV, putting out her name on the system-”

  “But in case that doesn’t turn up anything, it’s a decent back-up idea,” Stephen assured me. “We can ask Lydia’s parents who she usually hung out with, and we can ask them too. No-one knows a kid better than their parents, after all.”

  I snorted at that. “I can tell that you don’t have teenagers yet,” I teased. “A teenager’s parents know the least about them.”

  Stephen frowned. “Not true,” he protested. “Teenagers who trust their parents are just as open as younger kids. All that stuff about teenage angst stems from parents not knowing how to emotionally-”

  I held up my hands, surprised by how vehement his response was. “Woah, Steph, I was kidding.”

  He looked at me and winced slightly. “Sorry. I want to raise my kids right, you know? Not have them shut me out when they need help.”

  I smiled gently. “You’re a great dad, don’t doubt it.” Realising that we’d gotten a little off-track, I pulled out my phone and brought up the phone number of Rochelle and Oliver Brown. “I’ll give Lydia’s parents a call now and see how they’re placed for a talk, okay?” I said to Stephen, and he nodded.

  “I’ll get talking to the others,” he said, standing up. “See how we can go about coordinating the search and all that.”

  Rochelle and Oliver picked up the phone after only a couple of rings. “Detective?” Rochelle said. “Have you-”

  “We haven’t found her yet,” I said quietly. “We’ve got some solid leads, and we’re working on it. But I need something from you two.”

  They were silent for a beat. “What do you need?” Oliver asked, his voice holding a quiet desperation.

  “I’d like to talk to Lydia’s friends, whoever she talked to at school.”

  “Why?” Rochelle said.

  I took a breath. I’d not been sure whether telling the pair about Lydia possibly being out there somewhere, alone, was a good idea, but at this stage, I had to tell them. We needed their cooperation and their help.

  “We’ve had information,” I started, “saying that Lydia may have escaped from the kidnappers.” I paused to let them digest that. “So, we’d like to talk to-”

  “When? When did she get away?” Rochelle demanded. “And who did you hear this off? Was it a credible source? Is my little girl really out there-” She broke off, choking up, and I could hear Oliver trying to soothe her.

  “We’re not committing to any one route at present,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. “We’re looking at different angles, and this is one of them-”

  “So she might still be with them, that’s what you’re saying?” Rochelle said.

  “Yes,” I sighed. “But, if she did manage to slip away from them, we want to talk to you and her friends to ascertain where she might have run to.”

  “To us!” Rochelle snapped. “She’d come to us, if she could!”

  I grimaced. “I know she would,” I tried to say. “But she might not know where you are right now-”

  “Oh, my baby,” Rochelle said brokenly, and I could hear her crying. I pressed a hand to my face, wishing that, somehow, I’d handled that better.

  There was a rustling on the phone, and then Oliver’s voice came through quietly. “Tell us what you need, detective. We’ll do our best to help. This is a very difficult time for us.”

  “I know,” I assured him, “and I’m right sorry not to be bringing you better news.” I took a breath. “What we need is to get a better picture of who Lydia is; what she likes, what she finds comforting, where she might go if she couldn’t find you two. And we think talking to her friends might help with that.”

  Oliver made a noise of acknowledgement. “We’ll see what we can do,” he said gruffly.

  “Great,” I said, “thank you.”

  We ended the call, and I groaned quietly, pinching the bridge of my nose as a headache threatened. Stephen came over at the same moment and frowned down at me.

  “Difficult call?” he asked sympathetically.

  “Aye, awful.”

  Stephen’s frown deepened. “Did they agree to help?”

  “They did.”

  “That’s good then,” he said, before adding gently, “you can’t have mucked up too badly.”

  I rolled my eyes at him. “Thanks for the faith, DI Huxley.”

  He grinned crookedly. “Anytime, Mitchell.”

  “Now we’ve got to wait until they get back to us,” I said.

  “Yeah, but they agreed to help,” Stephen reassured me. “I’m sure they’ll move as fast as they can. They want their kid back; there’s no greater drive.”

  I hummed. “I hope you’re right.”

  It had been upsetting to hear how affected Rochelle and her husband were, but it was hardly surprising. Rather than take their anguish to heart, I tried to use it to focus myself. Now more than ever, we couldn’t afford to drop the ball. This was the point in the case where we needed to find more to give and devote it to finding Lydia before it was too late.

  Twenty-Five

  The next morning, Stephen and I were greeted by a call from the Browns almost as soon as we arrived into the office.

  I opened up my phone and accepted the call. “Hello?”

  “We’re having Lydia’s friends and their parents around at eleven. Does that work?” Rochelle said. Her voice was all business now, without any hint of the emotion she’d shown yesterday.

  “That would be perfect, thank you.”

  We pulled up outside the Browns’ fancy house at ten to eleven. The house didn’t seem so impressive this time, and Stephen and I efficiently made our way inside. We were escorted up to meet the Browns in a sitting room, and tea and coffee were fetched for both of us.

  “The guests aren’t here yet,” Rochelle informed us. “I believe you wanted to talk to us as well?”

  I got out my notebook. “We would, yes. We’d like to know more about Lydia.” I paused. “I know this is painful to talk about-”

  “Anything that will help,” Rochelle said stiffly, “we’ll do.”

  I gave her a nod of thanks. “Okay. What’s she like? Shy, or outgoing?”

  We ran through a long list of questions I’d drafted up this morning. Oliver sat, slightly crumpled, throughout and said little. Roc
helle was the opposite, answering all of our questions precisely and in detail whilst sitting very stiffly.

  The guests had started to arrive as we got near the end of my questions, but they didn’t interrupt us.

  “That was all, I think,” I said, turning to Stephen to check that he didn’t have any other questions.

  He leaned forwards slightly. “She would have been wearing her school uniform, on the day she was taken, right?” he asked.

  That was something I had assumed, but it was good to check. I hoped to god that the kidnappers had been decent enough to find her some other clothes, but if they hadn’t, it would be good to have an outfit to look out for.

  Oliver straightened up slightly at the question. “I saw her off,” he said. “She was in uniform.”

  “And what colours is that?” I asked.

  “Grey and red.”

  I nodded. Stephen sat back, finished with his questions too. “Okay, thank you.”

  “Very well,” Rochelle said, smoothing down her skirt with her hands before she got to her feet. Stephen and I followed her up to standing, while Oliver stayed seated. “Let me introduce you to some of our friends.”

  She took us around the room to meet the various couples and their children, who were all around Lydia’s age. Rochelle was the picture of a gracious hostess, and it was only the slight tremble in her hand where she held her drink that betrayed her distress over her daughter.

  Like last time, I encouraged Stephen to take the lead with the kids. We talked to them as a group this time, since it was less likely that they’d influence each other. When we’d last been here, we’d been trying to find a child that remembered something from weeks ago, and there’d been a risk of the kids coming up with a memory that hadn’t happened. Here, we were just asking for opinions on what Lydia was like, so there wasn’t the same concern.

  Stephen was excellent with the little ones, moving effortlessly between teasing and serious, and he had their attention glued to him like he was a performing magician.

  “You should have been a teacher,” I said to him, impressed, while the kids were taking a break to get juice and biscuits.

  Stephen snorted. “No way. I love kids, but having my own is enough. A class of thirty? No, thank you.”

  I chuckled. “Okay, okay. You’re good with them, though.”

  Stephen smiled. “And you’re terrible,” he teased. “Treat them like naïve and overexcitable adults, okay? You’re too awkward with them.”

  I just shook my head, perfectly happy to follow where Stephen led on this one.

  After the break, we got onto Lydia’s favourite colour, and food, and animal. I was doubtful that much of this would be of any use, but I made a note of it anyway as Stephen engaged them in conversation, because it couldn’t hurt.

  “She loves horses,” one particularly talkative blond girl said. “She said her mum and dad were going to buy her a whole group of them.”

  “It’s not a group,” a brown-haired boy said with a frown. “A lot of horses is a herd.”

  Stephen snapped his fingers. “Exactly right, Richard. Back to Lydia, now. Does she ride horses?”

  Another girl stuck her hand in the air, even though Stephen had said she didn’t have to do that. “She’s done riding since she was ten,” she said when Stephen nodded at her, seeming pleased to have the answer.

  “Three years, then,” I said to myself.

  Stephen glanced back at me as the kids got chatting amongst themselves. “That might help,” he offered. “Lots of horses once you’re out of the city.”

  I hummed. “Did she get out of the city, though?” I said. “The base was in a pretty suburban area.”

  Stephen shrugged, turning back to question the kids further. My hopes for this being a useful exercise sunk as we got towards twelve o’clock. Lydia’s friends got more easily distracted and less engaged as time went on, and Stephen rounded things up.

  “Okay, we’ll stop there. Thank you all for your help.”

  Mr and Mrs Brown saw us to the door soon after. Rochelle looked like she wanted to extract a promise from us to find her daughter, or suffer the consequences, but she said nothing.

  Back in the car, we were both quiet as we headed back to the station.

  “We’ll grab lunch, and then head out with the search party,” Stephen said. “I organised everyone to-”

  I held up my hands. “Please, Steph. I’m sure you’ve got it all under control, there’s no need to tell it to me all right now.”

  Stephen sent a worried frown over at me. “Usually, you want to hear every detail of the plan.”

  I sighed. “I know. Give me ten minutes, okay?”

  “Of course, mate.”

  So we drove back to the station in a quiet that was neither tense nor exactly easy. Still, it gave me a short while to get my thoughts together. We fetched lunch, and as we ate back at our desks, I gave him a nod.

  “Alright, lay it on me now.”

  He sent me a grin and told me about his plans for the search team. They’d start at the gang’s base and work outwards. We had about ten officers in total, which meant five police cars to tour the streets, plus us. It wasn’t a lot considering the ground we were covering, but it was better than just Stephen and I. Plus, this case was fast growing cold. The longer a kid was missing, the worse the stats on their return got, and the fall-off was exponential. Gaskell wanted to see this case succeed, of course, he did, but he also couldn’t afford to assign us a battalion of officers on a task that might very well turn up nothing at all.

  “What if she didn’t travel on foot?” I mused. “She could’ve gotten a lot further if she asked someone for a lift.”

  Stephen grimaced at the idea of a thirteen-year-old hitchhiking, and I didn’t like the idea either.

  “Or public transport,” I added quickly. “The train station isn’t far-”

  “She’s a rich kid,” Stephen said. “I bet she’s never taken a bus in her life. A train, maybe, but she’d have to get to the station first, and it’s a long way.”

  “Aye, but she’s thirteen, not five,” I said. “She could ask directions.”

  “Her parents said she was a quiet one,” Stephen argued. “I reckon she’d be more likely to run and hide, than to talk to strangers. We don’t know what she’s been through.”

  “Aye,” I said. “Just considering our options. So she probably went on foot, and, we hope, has found somewhere to bed down.”

  Stephen nodded. “I would think so. I hope so.”

  I hoped so too, because the alternative was too horrible to consider. I wish that we could put out a big media push towards finding Lydia, but the possibility that she was still with the gang ruled that out. For now, it was just a few select officers and us.

  Stephen led the way with directing the other officers, giving them each their areas to search, while I waited in the car. Stephen had already told me which areas we’d focus on, and I plugged the nearest one into the sat-nav. As the other vehicles began to roll out, Stephen came over to the car and hopped in.

  “All sorted?” I asked.

  “Yeah, they’re clear on what we gotta do, and who we’re looking for.”

  I nodded, putting the car in gear while Stephen clicked himself in and we set off. Our first search location was close to the base and consisted entirely of residential terrace houses, rows of them. Stephen and I took it slowly, scanning the area, but it was difficult.

  “She could be in any shed in any back garden,” I muttered, frustrated.

  “I know,” Stephen said. “We’ll find her, if not today, then soon.”

  “You don’t know that,” I said. Stephen didn’t reply, and I sighed. We crawled around the rest of our plot in silence, crossing paths with one other police car.

  That first hour set the tone for the rest of the afternoon, as we checked and double-checked each area, as did the other officers. As time went on, the others were called back to the station on other tasks, or for rout
ine patrolling, and it was only Stephen and me left.

  “What now?” I asked, pulling the car over as we finished another circuit.

  Stephen shook his head. “I don’t know,” he said, sounding slightly lost. He checked his watch. “We’ve got an hour or so left.”

  Stephen had a tablet on his lap, showing a map of the area. He’d crossed and double-crossed off the surrounding areas we had searched and soon covered the map with red marks. I picked it up and zoomed out with a pinch of my fingers.

  “I want to try further out,” I said. “We’ve only got an hour, so let’s try the nearest area of greenery.”

  “But why?” Stephen asked.

  I looked over at him. “I can’t see how she could’ve avoided detection here,” I said. “She’s a young girl. Even if she was in someone’s shed, she’d have to come out for food. She has to be somewhere more remote.”

  “It’s too far, though,” Stephen protested, pointing at the map. “Look, from the base to here is… nearly twelve miles.”

  “She’s had a week,” I said, my argument sounding weak even to myself. “Maybe she walked it. Or maybe she got a bus, like I said.”

  Stephen pressed his lips together. “Fine,” he said. “But my vote is to stay looking closer to home.”

  “Understood,” I said, passing the tablet back to him and turning the car back on. “And, tomorrow, we’ll go back to searching around here, but humour me today, okay? I’ve just got a feeling.”

  Stephen shook his head, unconvinced, but he didn’t argue further.

  “She’s a girl who rides horses,” I continued, as I thought it through further. “Why wouldn’t she head for the hills, so to speak?”

  “Her parents are in the city,” Stephen said. “Why wouldn’t she try to find them?”

  I clenched my hands on the wheel. “If she’d done that, she would’ve turned up like Lawrence,” I said, my patience wearing thin. “But she hasn’t. So either she’s with the gang, hiding somewhere else, or she’s-”

  Stephen held up a hand. “Don’t say it,” he snapped.