by Jack Slater
‘OK. But, if he didn’t take Rosie and the others . . .’
‘There’s somebody else still out there who did.’
Pete walked swiftly away towards the custody desk and the back door of the station. It took all his self-control not to run until he got outside. Then he let himself go. He charged across the car park, jumped into the Mondeo and rammed the key into the slot, gunning the engine and slipping the clutch. He was sorely tempted to hit the lights and sirens, but somehow resisted.
What the hell had happened? There was no way that Louise would make a call like that unless it was something serious. But what?
He imagined the desperate cry that Dave had described and his stomach twisted. The thought that his wife had made that sound . . . What had prompted such a horrific response? Louise was not the type to be melodramatic. She would blow up at him sometimes, but much more often she was simply quiet and withdrawn, so something awful must have happened.
The traffic was light at this time of day so he put his foot down hard until he turned off the Heavitree Road into the estate. The kids were at school so none should be running around on the streets, but nevertheless, he moderated his speed as he pushed the Ford through the slalom of parked cars that cluttered the narrower streets.
Finally, he pulled into his driveway, jumped out of the car and ran to the front door, barging into the house. ‘Louise?’
‘In here.’ Her tear-filled voice came from the sitting room. He rushed through. She was curled on the sofa, a blanket pulled protectively over her. She sat up as he entered, her face wet with tears.
‘What is it? What’s happened?’
‘Pete.’ She sobbed as she threw herself into his arms. ‘Oh, God, I’m sorry. It was awful. She practically accused you of being either bent or incompetent.’
‘Who did? When?’
‘Some bloody reporter.’ Her voice was muffled against his shoulder. ‘She came knocking on the door. I thought, the way she spoke, she must be one of your lot. But then I opened it and she started on, wanting to know what I thought about you working on a missing kid case when you hadn’t even found our Tommy. Like it was your fault or something.’ She was still sobbing as she spoke. ‘I put her right. Told her the way it was and then told her to bugger off and not come back, but what if she’s just the first? Now that you’ve got a dead one too, what if the press come round here in force? I mean, it’ll be on the news, won’t it? So the nationals will get in on it and drag up Tommy again. They’ll be camping on the drive all over again.’
Pete held her tight as she cried into his shoulder. His mind slipped back to the early summer when more or less exactly what she described had happened. The fact that the missing boy’s father was a copper had been played up by the press. Expectations had been high. The clamour for interviews with both of them had been relentless. They had been followed when taking Annie to school, as they’d had to, to prevent the reporters mobbing her.
That had been the start of Louise’s decline. She had quickly taken to staying indoors. Had withdrawn first from society, then from him and Annie.
‘Who was she, this reporter?’ he asked when her sobs eased a little.
‘I don’t know. Ellie something.’ She paused. ‘Turner. That was it. Ellie Turner. She said it like it should mean something to me. That’s why I thought she must be in the job. I wouldn’t have opened the door otherwise.’
‘They’ll try all sorts of tricks to get to speak to you. Did she say who she was working for? What paper, who her boss was – anything like that?’
‘No. She spouted her bullshit, I put her right, then I slammed the door on her. But then I was terrified she’d just be the first, that they’d all turn up here, like last time.’ Her arms tightened around him as her cries intensified again.
‘Well, there’s no sign of anyone out there now. And, if they do turn up, you just have to ignore them and call me.’
She drew a long, ragged breath. ‘I’m sorry, Pete.’
‘What for?’
‘I haven’t been much use over the past few months, have I? To you or Annie. It just got so . . . I couldn’t cope. It got too much, too quick and I couldn’t handle it. So, I’m sorry. But I told that reporter bitch that, regardless of what she might think, you were the best person for the job of finding that girl. And you are. I know I gave you grief over it, but I didn’t mean it. You know that, don’t you?’
She looked up at him imploringly.
Pete nodded. But, are you right? he thought. Am I the best man for the job? Could someone else see things more clearly? Find the evidence more quickly? Stand a better chance of getting to Rosie before . . . ?
He looked into her tear-filled eyes, and his heart melted. He pulled her close again, wrapping his arms around her. ‘I know, love. Don’t worry. I love you and so does Annie. We just want you to get through all this and get better in your own time, that’s all. What comes in between doesn’t matter. As long as we’re together and safe, nothing else matters, all right?’
‘Oh, God!’ She burst into tears again and Pete held her as she cried and cried.
*
‘Hey, boss. How’s Louise?’ Jane asked as Pete sat down opposite her.
‘She’s OK now, thanks.’
‘What was the problem?’
‘The press.’ He sat down, picked up his pen and opened the file on Kevin Haynes, effectively closing the conversation.
‘So, what do you reckon the odds are of it being a coincidence that Rosie Whitlock and Molly Danvers go to the same school?’
‘What?’ He looked up sharply.
Jane grinned. ‘Got you there, didn’t I? It’s true, though. They’re a year apart, so they probably don’t know each other, but they both go to Risingbrook.’
‘When did you find that out?’
‘About twenty minutes ago. I spoke to her parents.’
‘Listen up, everybody.’ Simon Phillips’ voice cut across the room as he stood up from his desk. ‘Thanks, Kate.’ He nodded to one of his PCs. ‘We’ve finally got an ID on the girl found on the riverbank at Powderham Deer Park. She was Amanda Kernick, from Fishponds in Bristol, age nine at the time she went missing, on or about the seventh of July this year.’
Cheers and applause rang across the squad room until Dave Miles asked the two obvious questions. ‘How the hell did she get all the way down here then? And how come it’s taken until now to identify her?’
‘To take your second question first, Dave, she was the single child of a single-parent family. They’d only moved to the area a couple of weeks before. The mother was killed in a hit-and-run and Mandy disappeared at the same time, so the neighbours just thought they’d moved away again. The schools were closed for the summer and the mother was estranged from her family, so nobody missed the girl until the schools opened again and she didn’t turn up. Then it took a few weeks to figure out that she wasn’t where she should be and wasn’t anywhere else either.’
‘Jesus, that’s just sad,’ Jane said. ‘Poor kid.’
‘As for your first question – your guess is as good as mine at this stage. We don’t know if she had family down this way and came down under her own steam or if she was snatched immediately – by whoever killed the mother, perhaps – and brought here against her will.’
‘In which case, whoever brought her down here has links to the Bristol area,’ Dave pointed out. ‘Do we know anyone?’
‘Are we talking about a ring then?’ Sophie asked. ‘Because theses blokes tend to know each other, or at least know of each other, right?’
‘Not necessarily an organised ring,’ Pete said. ‘But you’re right – they do tend to at least be aware of each other, if only to share and exchange images and sometimes even victims.’
‘And we’ve got one of them downstairs,’ Dave pointed out.
Pete nodded. ‘True. I’ll go and have a word. You want to come, Si?’
‘Too bloody right, I do.’
‘So, what have you got on th
is bloke? Haynes, isn’t it?’ Phillips asked as they went down the stairs.
‘He abducted a young girl last night, raped her, then had a pang of conscience and took her to the RDE. He’s admitted the attack, but claims it’s the only one he’s done since he got out of prison, three years ago.’
‘And you believe him?’
‘I’m inclined to, yes. Forensics are working on it, but we’ve got no evidence that he’s involved in the other attacks.’ Pete pushed open the door to the custody suite and approached the high-fronted desk. ‘Bob. We’re here to see Kevin Haynes again.’
The big man stepped out from behind the desk. ‘You better offer him a drink then. He’ll be parched, all the talking he’s doing this morning.’
‘I could use a coffee myself. You, Si?’
‘No, I’m OK.’
They reached the correct cell and Bob opened it up. ‘Wakey-wakey, Kevin. You want a drink?’
Haynes was sprawled on the built-in bunk at the back of the cell, the thin, grey police-issue blanket wrapped around him shawl-like. ‘Please. Tea would be great.’
‘One tea, one coffee on the way. Interview One’s free.’
‘Righto. Thanks, Bob. Come on, sunshine,’ Pete said. ‘We need to talk some more.’
‘What now?’ Haynes stood reluctantly. ‘I’ve told you everything I can.’
‘Not about this, you haven’t,’ Phillips said.
Pete led the way to the small interview room opposite the custody desk. He flipped the slider on the door to ‘Occupied’ and led them in. When they were all seated, he pressed the large red Record button on the machine to his left. ‘All right.’ He checked his watch and quoted the date and time. ‘Present in the room are myself, DS Peter Gayle, DS Simon Phillips and Kevin Haynes. Kevin has been read his rights and is fully aware of them, isn’t that right, Kevin?’
Haynes grunted. ‘Do I need a solicitor here?’
‘That’s up to you, Kevin. As I said, we’re not here to talk about what you were arrested for. But, for the benefit of the tape, can you confirm that you’re aware of your rights?’
‘Yes.’
‘Right, then, if you’re happy as we are . . . Simon, you want to kick off?’
Phillips sat forward in his chair, forearms on the desk. ‘Mr Haynes, I’m not accusing you of anything here. I’m aware of why you’re currently in custody and I want to ask you about a different case. I’m simply seeking any pertinent information you might have, is that clear?’
‘Yes.’
‘OK. So, eleven days ago, a body was found on the edge of the River Exe, at Powderham Deer Park. It was the body of a young girl. She was naked and had been sexually abused. We’ve since discovered that she was nine-year-old Amanda Kernick of Fishponds, Bristol. She was abducted at around the same time as her mother was killed in a hit-and-run incident by an unknown vehicle. Do you know anything about these events? Have you heard anything on the grapevine, as it were?’
Haynes’ eyes had widened in horror. ‘No. No way. I don’t get involved in stuff like that.’
‘Yet, you attacked a girl yourself, not twenty-four hours ago.’
‘That was a one-off. I told him.’ He nodded at Pete. ‘I’m not part of that scene. I keep to myself. I know these rings exist, but that’s all I know about them.’
There was a knock at the door and Bob came in with two steaming plastic cups. He put one down in front of Pete and one in front of Haynes. ‘Drinks, gents.’
‘Thanks, Bob.’ For the benefit of the recording, Pete added, ‘Sergeant Robert James has just brought drinks for myself and Mr Haynes and has now left the room.’ He focused on Haynes as he picked up his drink and took a sip. Putting the cup down again, he held the other man’s gaze. ‘So, you’re saying that you never heard even a whisper of a girl being brought down from Bristol for reasons of sexual exploitation, this summer.’
‘That’s right.’
‘But, if you had to speculate, is there anyone you know of that might have been involved in something like that? Anyone you’d immediately think, I bet that was him?’
‘You’re asking me to grass somebody up on pure guesswork.’
‘We’re asking you to suggest a starting point for an investigation,’ Simon said stiffly.
Haynes shook his head. ‘I don’t know. Like I said, I never got in with that kind of crowd. And, anyway, they use handles, never real names.’ He shrugged. ‘Sorry. I can’t help you.’
‘Or is it that you won’t?’ Simon asked. ‘In which case, you’d be acting as an accessory after the fact in at least one murder.’
‘Hey, I told you,’ Haynes protested, ‘I don’t know anything, all right? If I did, I’d tell you. I’m in enough shit already, thanks very much. I don’t need more.’
‘You say they use handles. Even one of those’d be a starting point,’ Pete said. ‘A web address. Whatever you can remember. These are killers we’re talking about here, Kevin.’
‘Yeah, and I’ve never had anything to do with them. Never wanted to. I just know, in principle, how they operate, that’s all. You can check my computer, whatever you want. You won’t find any connection between me and that sort of thing.’
‘We already are checking your computer, Kevin,’ Simon told him. ‘We’ll be checking every connection you’ve ever made on the Internet.’
‘Hah. You’ll be lucky. I’ve only had that computer just over a year.’ Haynes sat back, grinning.
‘Maybe, but your IP address hasn’t changed,’ Phillips argued. ‘That can tell us just the same, going back to when it was first set up.’
Haynes looked sceptical, then less sure.
‘So, you’ve got no knowledge, direct or otherwise, of anyone who might be involved in these abductions, Kevin?’ Pete broke in.
‘That’s what I’ve been saying all along.’
‘All right,’ Pete said. ‘I think we’re done for now then.’
Phillips looked at him. ‘Really?’
Pete nodded. ‘Bob can take him back to his cell. Interview terminated at —’ he checked his watch ‘—eleven twenty-three a.m.’ He stood, picked up his drink and led Simon out of the room
As soon as the door clicked shut behind them, Phillips rounded on him. ‘What the hell was that about? We’d hardly got started.’
‘We’ve already checked his computer and searched his house. There’s no evidence that he’s been involved in anything until he took Molly Danvers. I don’t think he can tell us anything.’
‘You didn’t give him a bloody chance!’
Pete felt the pressure swell in his head. ‘Don’t even think about telling me how to do my job,’ he snarled. ‘Not until you can tell me where my son is.’ He stalked away, leaving Phillips to follow when he was ready.
‘Take our friend in there back to his cell, would you, Bob?’ he asked, as he passed the desk.
‘Right you are.’
Pete headed up the stairs, Simon’s footsteps heavy behind him. As they entered the incident room an expectant hush fell over the assembled officers. Pete looked around. Almost all faces were focused on him, watching and waiting. He drew a deep, calming breath and shook his head, a soft moan of disappointment passing across the room in response.
‘No good?’ asked Dave.
‘He doesn’t know anything.’
From across the room behind him, he heard Simon Phillips saying, ‘Waste of bloody time. If it had been me, I’d have beaten the damn truth out of the little perv.’
Pete stiffened, but held himself in check. This wasn’t the time or the place. He reached for the forensic report on top of the pile on his desk. He flipped it open and had barely read the title when his phone rang. He picked it up. ‘Gayle.’
‘Detective Sergeant Gayle?’
‘Speaking.’
‘This is DC Andrew Tibbetts of the technical office, HQ. I’ve finally finished assessing the emails, Twitter and Facebook accounts on Rosie Whitlock’s computer. She also had Instagram and Photobuck
et accounts, you know.’
‘No, I didn’t know.’
‘Well . . . nothing remarkable in them. I’ll email you the results, of course, but I thought I’d better call first. There are several contacts among her emails and on Facebook from one Thomas Gayle. Isn’t that your son’s name?’
CHAPTER 18
Pete heard the question as if from a distance through the echoing hollowness that had descended over his senses. ‘Isn’t that your son’s name?’
‘It is.’
‘Then perhaps you should check the details. I expect you know his email and social network accounts inside out, by now, with all that’s happened.’
‘Yes. I’ll do that.’
Tommy. Tommy knew Rosie Whitlock. My God.
Why didn’t he remember her name from five months ago?
He hadn’t been directly involved in Tommy’s case, of course, but surely Phillips would have asked about anyone and everyone in his contacts list?
He put the phone down as if in a dream. It took him several seconds to register Jane’s voice.
‘Boss? Boss? Are you all right?’
He blinked. ‘What? Yes, I’m fine.’
‘Well, you don’t look it. You’re as white as a sheet.’
He drew a long, deep breath. ‘I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about it, Jane.’
‘What was the phone call?’
‘The IT guys. They’ve cracked Rosie’s email and social network accounts. They’re emailing me the details.’
‘So, what’s so awful about that?’
‘Nothing, Jane. Let it lie, will you?’
She stared at him for a moment, then put her head down, concentrating on what she had been doing.
Pete felt bad about snapping at her, but he couldn’t tell anyone what he had just learned. Not yet. It could get him pulled off the case and that was the last thing he wanted. He was too far in to give it up now. And Rosie Whitlock could ill afford the delays involved in bringing another team up to speed. If he had to step aside, he’d have to, but he wasn’t going to if he could help it.
Especially not for Simon Phillips, he couldn’t help thinking.