The Child Catcher (A DI Erica Swift Thriller Book 4)

by M K Farrar

  Ellie didn’t know what to say to that. She didn’t want the boy to be on his own, but she wasn’t glad she was here. She wished she’d never met him and that she didn’t know this horrible room even existed.

  With the pain of her bladder too great to stand any longer, it released in a hot rush of wetness that soaked the inside of her leggings and soaked the mattress.

  “Oh,” Ellie gave a little cry of surprise and shock.

  Then she put her face against her knees and cried in shame.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Before leaving the hospital, Erica called for backup to meet them at the pub where Jack Dempsey had been due to meet the two men he knew as Dave and Gut-so-Gav.

  They drove the short distance and found a spot to park on the street.

  “Do you think they’ll still be there?” Erica asked Shawn. There was no sign of the requested backup yet.

  He twisted in his seat to take in the local area. “No idea, but if the backup doesn’t get here soon, we won’t stand any chance of catching them.”

  “Let’s take a quick look around the back.” Erica climbed out of the unmarked pool car. “Even if they’re not there, I’m sure there’ll be people in the pub who’ll know them and know where to find them.”

  Shawn climbed out his side to join her. “They might not be so open with us if they know we’re police.”

  Even in their plain clothes, they were clearly detectives. She didn’t know what it was, but sometimes it felt as though they might as well have their ID pinned to their chests.

  The front of the pub faced the pavement, with only a couple of benches outside. The overflowing ashtrays on the weather-beaten tables indicated that this was the place the smokers were supposed to go when they decided they needed a cigarette with their pint, and would happily stand outside in all weathers to get it. The place was a typical East End boozer, with window boxes containing no more than a few dead plants and a whole lot more cigarette butts decorating the front. Red paint was peeling from the window and doorframes, though the main door was propped open by another sad-looking plant pot, perhaps hoping to make the entrance more enticing.

  In the warmer weather, it was generally the pubs with the beer gardens that did better, but places like this had a loyal crowd who viewed it more as their own living room, that just happened to sell alcohol and contained all their mates than anything else.

  “I’m going to guess this place isn’t known for its food,” Erica said.

  It had been a long time since lunch, and she was starving.

  “Nope.” Shawn chuckled. “They definitely didn’t hop on the gastropub trend.”

  She couldn’t help laughing, but then something caught her eye. “Hang on a sec, looks like our backup has arrived.”

  A squad car containing uniformed officers pulled over a little farther down the street. She’d informed them to act as a block, just in case the two men they were after decided to make a run for it.

  “We’re good to go then.” Shawn jerked his chin towards an alley that ran between the side of the pub and the building next door. “This way.”

  The alley wasn’t large enough to get a car through but was big enough for bins, or crates of beer and wine to be hauled down. Erica followed Shawn’s broad shoulders, glad that she had him with her. She got the feeling this Dave and Gut-so-Gav weren’t going to be overly keen on being approached by two detectives. She was hoping to play on their softer side—if they had one—and explain about the missing child, but she couldn’t ignore the possibility that they might know more than they’d be letting on. Jack said they were just into a bit of bootlegged ciggies and booze, but how much could he know about their business? She just prayed they weren’t also doing a sideline in child trafficking, and had somehow come across the information that Jack had a daughter, and then they’d figured the child could earn some extra money if they got her across the Channel and into the hands of people who sold small children for unimaginable things.

  There was only one thing that made Erica pause on that possibility, and that was Ellie Dempsey’s ethnicity. There was a bias when it came to abduction for blonde-haired, blue-eyed children, and Ellie was neither of those things. In fact, race bias was becoming such an issue, that cases of racial discrimination involving Roma families having blonde children had happened recently, where people had just assumed the dark-haired Roma couldn’t possibly be parents to a blonde-haired child. Those children were then taken away until it could be proven that they were legally the child’s parents. Being part Asian meant she didn’t have the usual traits Erica might expect to see from an ordered, trafficked child, but that didn’t rule out the possibility, of course.

  The alleyway reeked of stale booze and a hint of urine, and Erica was glad to get out of there. They emerged around the back of the pub, where a couple of old plastic school chairs had been set out, together with empty metal beer kegs, and stacks of crates, some of which contained old glass bottles, were balanced against the wall. There was no sign of any men.

  “Looks like we’re going to be going inside then?” Shawn said.

  She could tell he relished the idea as much as she did, but they needed to find Ellie Dempsey, and time was running out.

  They pushed inside the pub. Despite all the cigarette butts outside, the smell of the place told her not everyone was following the rules. Not that it even mattered for now. That wasn’t what they were here for. Her eyes adjusted to the gloom, and she pinpointed a handful of dark wood tables with predominantly middle-aged men gathered around them. She knew their type. Those who were just here to drink, rather than deal with whatever dodgy things the men Jack Dempsey was involved with, were still the kind of people who never picked up their dog’s shit and refused to return a supermarket trolley to the correct spot. Behind the water-ring stained bar, a woman in her fifties with jet-black dyed hair and too much blusher stood wiping down some glasses that must have recently come out of a dishwasher.

  “Aye-aye,” one of the men at the tables called out. “Lookin’ for someone, love?”

  Shawn followed in right behind her, and immediately the atmosphere shifted again.

  “Yes, I am, actually.” She refused to let herself be intimidated. She’d dealt with far worse than this bunch. “I have some news I need to pass on to Dave and Gut-so-Gav.”

  He rose to his feet, revealing a good six feet two of himself. He didn’t look like the type of man who spent any time at the gym and was stocky in that middle-aged way men got when they had a fondness for drinking beer and eating takeaways.

  “What do you want with Dave and Gut-so-Gav?”

  It was hard to make out the man’s face in the dim, smoky atmosphere.

  “We have news for them about someone who works for them.”

  “You can tell me,” the man said gruffly, “and I’ll pass on the message.”

  “I’m afraid this is confidential, Mr...” She trailed off, allowing him to fill in the gap, which he didn’t.

  Shawn spoke up, “And this is police business, so if you know where to find either men, you’re going to need to tell us.”

  The man balled his shoulders and took a step closer. “I don’t need to tell you fucking nothin’, mate.”

  Erica could tell they were losing control of the situation. “Sir, I’m DI Swift, and this is DS Turner, and we’re investigating the stabbing of a young mother and the abduction of her child that happened not far from here. I’m sure you’ve heard about it.”

  He puffed out his chest. “What the fuck are you saying? That Dave and Gut-so-Gav had something to do with some woman being stabbed and a kid being snatched?”

  “We believe the father of the child had some involvement with them,” Shawn said, stepping to stand at Erica’s shoulder. “We simply want to know a little more about what the involvement entailed.”

  The man spun to direct his anger at Shawn. “They don’t have no fucking involvement.” He jabbed a finger in Shawn’s direction. “Now get the fuck out
of here before I have to throw you out.”

  “You’re not going to throw anyone out.” Shawn kept his tone steady and didn’t even flinch as the man’s aggression caused his face to turn puce and sweat to pop in beads on his forehead.

  Around the bar, murmurs of concern rose, though whether they were for their drinking buddy, or the two detectives, Erica wasn’t quite sure. She put her hand on Shawn’s arm, thinking it was perhaps time to leave. They’d find out the locations of the two men some other way, or else come back with a couple of squad cars and uniformed backup.

  The barmaid stopped polishing glasses behind the bar. “Leave it, Tony. I don’t want any more trouble.”

  “Shut the fuck up, Vick. This is none of your business.”

  “Tony,” Shawn said, remaining calm. “That’s your name?”

  “You can stay out of my business, too.”

  “I’m not interested in you. All we want is to find—”

  But Shawn didn’t get to finish his sentence. The man pulled back his fist and let it fly, putting his full body weight—which was substantial—behind the blow. His knuckles connected with Shawn’s eye, and he flew backwards, hitting the chair behind him, and sending him crashing to the floor.

  Erica lunged for the man, fully intent on knocking him to the floor if she could, and snapping a pair of cuffs on his wrists and arresting him for assaulting a police officer, but, despite his size, he was surprisingly fast. He seemed to suddenly realise what he’d done and just how much trouble he could get in for it, and he spun on his heels and legged it for the back door. He burst out of the pub and into the bright sunlight.

  Quickly, Erica got on her radio and gave a description of the man and the direction he’d gone to the uniformed officers waiting outside. She considered giving chase as well, but if she did, she’d be leaving Shawn defenceless, and she still didn’t know what the attitudes were of the other people in the pub, though many of them had already slipped out the back way, not wanting to get involved in either what had just happened, or possibly be made to give up information on the two men they were looking for.

  Hoping the other officers wouldn’t let Tony the Arsehole get away, she turned her attention back to Shawn. He’d been hit hard but was already groaning and sitting back up, the wooden chair he’d fallen against in pieces beneath him.

  “Jesus. Are you okay?” She dropped to a crouch beside him, instinctively placing her hand on his back in comfort.

  He squinted out of the eye that had received the worst of the blow. “Well, I didn’t see that coming.” The flesh around his eye was already growing puffy and discoloured.

  “Neither did I. You think he had something to hide?”

  “Possibly, though I think he’d just had too much to drink and was trying to act like the big man.”

  “He ran off pretty fast for someone who was trying to be tough.”

  Shawn managed a smile. “He knew you’d be after him, Swift. That’s enough to scare off most men.”

  She laughed. “Good to see the blow to the head hasn’t damaged your sense of humour.”

  Movement came from beside them, and Erica tensed, preparing herself for another confrontation, but it was the barmaid, Vick.

  She crouched and handed Shawn ice wrapped in a tea towel. She looked both ways to make sure no one was within hearing distance, but kept her voice down anyway when she spoke.

  “Gut-so-Gav’s real name is Gareth McClennan, and Dave’s is David Nesh. They both live on Sidney Street, behind the newsagents.”

  “Thank you,” Erica said, matching her volume. “I don’t suppose you know the name of the guy who just did this?”

  “Tony Stillman. He’s been in and out of jail his whole life. You must have spooked him.”

  Or he just doesn’t like the police...

  The barmaid had just put her neck on the line to help them, and Erica didn’t want to get her in trouble, though she knew there was a good chance they’d need to talk to her again.

  “I hope you find that little girl. It’s a horrible business. I doubt the two of them were involved, though. They’re dickheads, but they’re fairly harmless.”

  Erica raised her eyebrows at Shawn’s blossoming black eye. “Like their mates, you mean?”

  “Yeah, well, sorry that happened to you.”

  Shawn shrugged and held the ice to his eye. “Part of the job these days, unfortunately.”

  “You okay to pay a visit to Sidney Street?” Erica asked him. “Though you should probably get that checked out, make sure you don’t have a cracked eye socket or something.”

  “I’m fine, seriously. It’s just a bruise. I’ve had worse.”

  She helped him to his feet, and he handed the tea towel back to the barmaid.

  Vick shook her head. “Keep it. Better that you hold the ice to it for longer.”

  “You’ve done this before,” he said with a grin.

  She rolled her eyes at the pub. “Once or twice.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Sometimes she felt as though her children didn’t even love her.

  Not that they’d said as much, but she could feel it down to her bones. It didn’t matter how much she did for them, cooked their meals, did their laundry, cleaned up after them, they just weren’t grateful. She knew they were only young, and it was probably to be expected, but the future worried her. Everyone talked about how it only got harder when they reached their pre-teens and then their teenage years, how the attitude and ungratefulness would only increase. They’d expect even more from her than they did now, and the thought of living with them while they demanded extra food, and money, and lifts out to see friends filled her with anger and frustration at events that hadn’t even happened yet.

  It wasn’t fair that she was having to deal with everything on her own, either. It had been so easy for Tim, just deciding he didn’t love her anymore and that he was leaving. He’d said he ‘needed to move on’ and he ‘couldn’t keep living life like this’. She understood things hadn’t been easy recently, but for him to up and leave after six years of marriage...well, she hadn’t been expecting it at all. She’d always considered herself good at reading people, but him announcing he was leaving had felt as though she’d been walking along, minding her own business, only to slam straight into a brick wall. They were adults. They were married. They had a home and a family together. You didn’t get to just check out on all of that.

  Except, that was exactly what Tim had done, and she’d been left behind to pick up the pieces.

  Helen checked the clock. He’d be finishing work soon. Maybe she’d just drive by Tim’s workplace and see if she could catch him. She didn’t even need to speak to him, really, just seeing him would be enough to make her feel better.

  Okay, maybe it was more than that. Maybe what she really wanted—and needed—was to remind him that she was still here. She didn’t want him to forget her or make things so easy on him that he would forget her.

  It killed her to see him getting on with his life, as though they no longer existed.

  Helen jumped in her car and drove the twenty minutes to Tim’s office. She was in luck, and there was a space on the other side of the road that she was able to pull into. The position gave her a good view of the office building and the front door leading into it.

  He might not be at work today.

  He might be home...

  What if he’d called in sick because he had a new woman in his life, and they were spending the day in bed together, calling up for a takeaway, and drinking wine, and laughing and making love? Her skin grew hot and clammy at the thought.

  Each time the door to the building opened, Helen sat up straighter, her heart feeling as though it was clambering up her throat and trying to crawl out of her mouth. But each time she saw it wasn’t him, she slumped back into her seat and waited some more.

  She would have to go soon. She couldn’t leave the children for too long—they’d be expecting her home. But her heart longed for him
, and she knew if she didn’t see him, the itch would be gnawing at her for the rest of the day. It would make her irritable with the kids, and she found herself losing her temper more often recently. She didn’t like herself when she lost her temper. That wasn’t the kind of mother she’d aspired to be.

  Helen hadn’t always been that way. Tim leaving hadn’t helped, but she’d known things had been hard before then. She hadn’t been herself.

  He stepped out of his work and spotted her waiting beside her car. His eyes slipped shut briefly, and he shook his head, and then turned as though to walk in the opposite direction.

  “Tim, wait.”

  She sensed his sigh rather than heard it, but he paused and twisted to face her.

  “What are you doing here, Helen?”

  There was irritation in his eyes, but with it was pity.

  “I just wanted to see you. You can’t pretend we no longer exist just because it suits you.”

  He gave a cold laugh. “Do you really think it’s been that easy? I’ve been through hell as well. It’s not all about you.”

  “I didn’t come here to fight.”

  “Why did you come here at all then?”

  “We miss you.”

  “Stop talking like that, Helen. That’s part of the reason I couldn’t handle being in this marriage anymore.”

  “And what were all the other reasons? Was it because of how I look? I’ve tried to lose weight, but you know it’s not that easy for me. And I can hardly help my height.”

  He stared at her in confusion. “Come on. You can’t actually believe that. Not after everything we’ve been through.”

  A part of her wanted to believe him, but what did it even matter now? Even if he wasn’t physically repulsed by her, he’d still left.

  Though she was tall, and she could admit to herself that her face was pretty enough, it wasn’t as though she was like the supermodels who used to grace the television screens in the nineties. She might be tall, but she was stocky with it, and no matter how much she tried to diet, it never seemed to make any difference. Even if she managed to shed some pounds from around her middle, there never seemed to be anything she could do about the breadth of her shoulders or the girth of her hips. In the early days of their marriage, Tim used to grab those hips with both hands and talk about how sexy she was and how they were the perfect size for giving them babies, but words like that had died a long time ago. Now she was more than aware of her size, how clumsy and clunky she must appear compared to other women.