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

by M K Farrar

  One of the women scooped it off the floor and handed it to Erica. “No, not at all. It’s a gift. We’re just happy everyone is safe and has been reunited.”

  “Me, too.” Erica kissed Poppy’s head. “Come on, baby. Let’s take you home tonight.”

  Poppy lifted her head from Erica’s neck. “You mean I’m not going to sleep at Aunty Tasha’s house?”

  “No, not tonight. You can snuggle up in bed with me, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  She knew it was impossible, and she had a job to do and Poppy had school to go to, but right in that moment, Erica didn’t think she’d ever let her daughter out of her sight again.

  Chapter Thirty

  Erica hadn’t slept well that night, her mind turning over all the terrible things that might have happened if the women in the shop hadn’t found Poppy and taken her in.

  By the time she got into the office the following morning, her eyes were gritty with tiredness, and a headache had formed in her temples. She found a packet of painkillers in one of her desk drawers and knocked a couple back with some bitter vending machine coffee.

  Natasha had apologised profusely, promising she’d make sure she kept the doors locked when she had Poppy over next, but it hadn’t been her sister’s fault. Poppy had got something into her head—which in part had been Erica’s fault—and had somehow convinced herself it would be fine to go to the cemetery by herself because her daddy would be there when she arrived.

  Erica’s heart broke, and, at the same time, she couldn’t help but think of all those other mothers who also had missing children, and who hadn’t found them again. While her role in the Violent Crimes Task Force didn’t normally involve missing children, because the case of Ellie Dempsey had been associated with a stabbing, it had become her job now.

  “How are you feeling?” Shawn asked her, perching on the edge of her desk.

  She rubbed her hands over her eyes. “Emotionally exhausted.”

  “It’s not surprising. You got a scare, and you’ve been through a lot.”

  “I know, but I need to get my head in the game. I owe it to all those other kids who are missing, and their parents, too.”

  Her phone rang, drawing her attention. She didn’t recognise the number but answered anyway.

  “Yes? Swift speaking.”

  “It’s DS Shariff from MisPer.”

  “Morning,” she greeted the other woman. Erica wondered if she’d heard about Poppy’s vanishing act. “How are you getting on?”

  “I’m not sure if this is connected, but we’ve received a call from a man who believes his wife might have snatched a baby. We’re heading around there for a chat, but I thought you’d want to join us.”

  Erica frowned. “You think it might be connected to the Ellie Dempsey case?”

  “I ran a check on the kind of car the woman owns, and it’s a Ford Focus, twenty-fifteen plate.”

  Erica sat up straight. “A white one?”

  “That’s right.”

  It could be a coincidence, but if it wasn’t, they might have found the person who’d abducted Ellie Dempsey, and possibly the baby as well. She mouthed, ‘We might have found the car’ at Shawn, who was watching her intently.

  “Have you got an address?” Erica asked Shariff, picking up a pen.

  “Yes, of course.” The MisPer detective rattled it off, and Erica jotted it down on a notepad.

  “Thanks. We’ll meet you there. Are you bringing uniformed officers for backup?”

  “Yes, I thought that would be best, just in case.”

  “Agreed. See you shortly.”

  She was already on her feet before she’d even ended the call. “Someone has reported that they think their ex-wife might have snatched a baby,” she filled Shawn in, “and the wife happens to drive a twenty-fifteen white Ford Focus.”

  “I’ll come with you,” he said, grabbing his suit jacket off the back of his chair.

  Within twenty minutes, they pulled up outside the address. The houses were typical terraced homes, mostly ex-council. Plenty had been divided up into flats, including the basements, which had also been converted.

  DS Shariff was already parked up outside and waiting for them. The squad cars were at either end of the road, ready in case the suspect tried to run.

  “Thank you for coming, DI Swift,” Shariff said as Erica climbed from her car to join her. “And DS Turner, too. The woman in question is thirty-six-year-old Helen Bergersen. It was her ex-husband, Timothy Bergersen, who reported his suspicions. He says he visited here last night because he was worried about her mental health—apparently she’d been stalking him and talking about him visiting a child they tragically lost two years ago, and when he came here to talk to her, there was a baby crying. He says she’d also been hurt and has what looks like a bite mark on her face.”

  Shawn frowned. “But he only reported it this morning?”

  “He convinced himself that she was telling the truth about babysitting a friend’s child, but then he saw the news this morning that a baby had been snatched and called us then.”

  “You said it was her ex-husband who called in his suspicions,” Erica said, “yet they have the same surname?”

  Shariff nodded. “I believe she kept her name after the divorce.”

  “A sign that she hasn’t been able to move on then.”

  Strangely, Erica felt something akin to empathy for the woman. Though Erica no longer had a husband, she was technically still a Mrs. Maybe it was different, because Erica hadn’t chosen for her husband to leave her, but then she realised that Helen Bergersen might not have chosen for her husband to leave her either.

  In her years as a detective, she’d learned that even though she might not agree with the things people did, there was more often than not a reason behind it. Understanding those motivations and drives made her a better detective, but it involved having some compassion for those people, too. She couldn’t understand them if she wasn’t also able to empathise with them.

  “She lost her four-year-old daughter in a tragic accident,” Shariff continued, “and most likely blamed herself for it. Her marriage broke down. She’s been all alone. We don’t know what her mental state is going to be, and we don’t want her to feel cornered so she does something stupid, so we’ll keep the uniformed officers out of sight for the moment.”

  “You mean hurt the children?” Shawn checked.

  “I do, yes.”

  Assuming they were in there, of course.

  The house looked like any other one on the street. Parked at the kerb was the white Ford Focus that had drawn their attention. A small pink bike sat outside, half hidden by a knee-high brick wall that divided the front garden from the pavement. The sight of the bike hurt Erica’s heart.

  It was Shariff’s case, so she led the way, Erica and Shawn close behind.

  Shariff paused before knocking, and Erica knew they were listening to try to pick up on the baby’s cry that the ex-husband had reported hearing. Just hearing a baby crying wouldn’t normally be enough to raise suspicions, but that he’d said she’d been acting strangely, together with the previous loss of a child, and known missing children in the area, plus the car, it was impossible to ignore. He’d also said that she had an injury on her face that looked like a human bite mark.

  They didn’t hear anything, so Shariff rang the bell and they waited.

  The woman who answered the door dwarfed Erica. She was at least five feet ten, with broad shoulders and a narrow waist. Statuesque was the word that came to mind. And she was beautiful. Erica didn’t know why that had taken her by surprise, but it had. The woman’s cat-shaped eyes regarded her with bright curiosity, and she swept a strand of shoulder-length, silky brown hair from her face.

  “Yes? Can I help you?”

  The only thing that tarnished her beauty was the patch of gauze that had been stuck to her cheek using microfibre tape.

  Shariff flashed her ID. “I’m DS Naeema Shariff, and these are my co
lleagues, DI Swift and DS Turner. Your ex-husband has been in touch with us, and he says he’s worried about you. We wondered if it would be okay if we could ask you a few questions?”

  “I suppose that would be all right.” She didn’t step out of the doorway, however, and dropped her voice a couple of levels. “I’m sorry, I’d invite you in, but my daughter is sleeping, and she’s been a nightmare to get down. I really don’t want to risk waking her again.”

  Warning bells rang in Erica’s head. According to the ex-husband and background checks, this woman’s daughter had died two years ago. If they thought a child was in immediate danger, they didn’t need to wait to get a warrant to search the house. They’d force their way in there if they had to.

  Erica’s heart raced, but she did her best not to let it show. “I have a daughter, too,” she said, stepping in with the hope she might be able to connect with the other woman. “She’s six now. How old is your little girl?”

  She shot Erica a suspicious look. “Fifteen months.”

  “That’s a lovely age. What’s her name?”

  “Naomi.”

  “My daughter is called Sophie,” Erica said, giving a fake name.

  DS Shariff glanced over the woman’s shoulder. “Do you mind if we come in for a quick chat? I promise we won’t wake Naomi. I think we’d be better having this conversation in a more comfortable setting.”

  A muscle beside the woman’s eye twitched, and her lips thinned. “It took me hours to get her down. I don’t want her awake again.”

  Erica knew they had to play this carefully. She didn’t want to risk Helen Bergersen slamming the door in their faces and barricading herself in, and then doing something to hurt the baby. There was little doubt in her mind that the baby Helen was calling Naomi was the same child who was snatched from outside the café yesterday. Could this woman also be responsible for taking Ellie? Until she got into the house and searched the place, it was impossible to know for sure, though her car did match the description. Unfortunately, there were hundreds of 2015 white Ford Focuses in London, and so it wasn’t necessarily enough to make an arrest on. If she saw the child, however, she would be sure. She knew Helen had tragically lost her daughter two years ago, and there was no record of her having another baby. The ex-husband claimed she had already lied about the baby, saying she was looking after it for a friend, and yet now here she was, telling Erica that the baby was hers, and even shared the same name as the child who had died.

  Erica touched her fingers to the same spot where the gauze was stuck to Helen Bergersen’s cheek. “Can I ask what happened to your face?”

  “Oh, I burnt it when I was cooking. Some hot fat spat out of a pan and caught me.”

  Erica winced in sympathy. “Sounds nasty. Did you seek any medical attention?”

  “No, it was fine, honestly.”

  A cry came from inside the house, and panic lit in the woman’s eyes.

  “That didn’t sound like a baby,” Erica said.

  The cry had sounded as though it had come from an older child.

  Helen darted back and tried to slam the door shut, but the detectives moved quickly. Erica jammed her foot into the gap, and a split second later, Shawn’s shoulder collided with the composite wood. The door flew open, sending Helen Bergersen staggering backwards, almost losing her balance.

  “No, stop!” she cried. “Wait.”

  But all three detectives were already inside.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Ellie had sat up at the faint brrring from beyond the cellar door.

  She hadn’t been properly able to untangle all her feelings since she’d learned the Creeper was a woman, and not a monster at all. Or maybe she was a kind of monster, only one wearing a woman’s face. That face was just like that of any of her friends’ mummies who stood outside of the school gate to pick the children up.

  “Ellie,” Ashley had hissed at her. “That was a doorbell.”

  Ashley had finally stopped crying, but she knew he was poorly. His voice was weak and shaky, and his movements had slowed, as though just lifting his head took the biggest effort in the world. She didn’t want to look at his arm. Even in the faint light, she could see it was twice the size as it should be. It made her stomach all swirly and her bowels feel loose.

  “So what?” she’d whispered back.

  “It means someone else is here. Someone might hear us.”

  She remembered the crying of the baby that had filtered down to them. If they’d been able to hear the baby, then whoever was in the main part of the house might be able to hear her, too. Her heart fluttered with panic, and she was unsure what to do.

  Ashley reacted first. “Help!” he cried, but his voice was weak, nowhere near the volume of an upset baby’s cries. Whoever had rung the doorbell didn’t stand a chance of hearing him.

  Ellie opened her mouth, but no sound came out. She couldn’t get the image of Ashley’s swollen arm out of her head. What if she shouted for help, but no help came, and instead the woman stomped back down here to punish her? She might throw Ellie against the wall, like she’d done with Ashley, and then Ellie would have the swollen arm with the strange, shiny skin as well.

  Tears of fear filled her eyes.

  “Please, Ellie,” Ashley begged. “I can’t do it.”

  She threw him a desperate look and then swallowed down her fear. He was right, she had to try. He was hurt because he’d tried to escape to save them. She needed to do the same for him. Besides, she was already in trouble. She’d hurt the woman’s face when she’d bit her, and even though she hadn’t come back down here to punish her, she knew it was in her future. In fact, the way the woman was speaking and acting, Ellie had the feeling she was going to do something even worse than punish them. She hadn’t brought them any food or water for hours now, and her throat was dry and sore, and her stomach churned with hunger. What if she decided never to come back down here? What would happen to them both then? Had she found a baby to replace them and now she was no longer interested in them? Maybe she’d planned on getting rid of them, but then Ellie had fought back, so now the Creeper just thought she’d ignore them instead and eventually the problem would take care of itself?

  They would die.

  Ellie didn’t want to die. She wanted to see Mummy and Daddy again, and go to school, and play with her friends, and sleep in her own bed with Bunny, and go round to Grandma’s house to have roast dinner. She’d even eat the boiled cabbage that her grandma’s house stank of every Sunday.

  Ellie opened her mouth and screamed. “Help! We’re down here! Please, help us!”

  Ashley joined in, adding his weak, croaky voice to her screams.

  “Help! Please, help us!”

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Erica ran through the house, following the child’s shout for help.

  She was barely aware of what was happening behind her but knew Shariff’s focus would be on finding the baby, while the uniformed officers would make sure Helen Bergersen didn’t leave the property.

  Shawn was close behind her, and she stopped at a closed door, which looked as though it led down to a basement. Where many of the houses in this street had converted cellars, this one was still in its original state. A large bolt was at the top of the cellar door. Erica yanked it across and threw open the door. Right away, the child’s shout grew louder. She fumbled on the side of the bare brick wall for a switch and flicked it on. Light flooded the stairwell, revealing a second door at the bottom, which was also bolted shut. What did anyone need two bolts for unless they were trying to keep people in?

  Erica raced down the stairs and reached the second door.

  The stink coming from inside the room hit her like a wave of heat.

  Shawn’s voice came from behind her. “Jesus Christ.”

  There was no bulb in the cellar, but some of the light from the stairwell illuminated the contents of the room.

  “Oh my God.” Erica shouted back up the stairs. “Call an ambulance! We
’re going to need medical attention here.”

  A little girl with straight black hair and wide brown eyes sat on a dirty mattress on the floor, her arms huddled around her knees. A chain was wrapped around her ankle and attached to a bolt embedded into the concrete floor. But that wasn’t all. Across the other side of the cellar, a boy of about seven years old lay on another mattress. He was even filthier than the girl, and his arm was swollen and mottled in red, purple, and blue.

  Both children regarded her with hopeful but frightened expressions.

  “Ellie,” Erica said, recognising the girl instantly. “My name is Erica, and I’m a police officer. You’re safe now. We’re going to take you home.”

  Ellie burst into tears. “Is my mummy okay? I think something bad happened to my mummy.”

  “She’s fine, sweetheart. Missing you, that’s all.”

  Shawn turned his attention to the boy. “You’re Ashley, aren’t you? I saw your photograph at your house.”

  The boy’s eyes widened. “You went to my house?”

  “Yeah, I did. Your mum and dad have photos of you everywhere. They have missed you so much. They’re going to be so happy to see you, and your little brother will be as well.”

  Ashley’s blue eyes filled with tears. “I missed them, too.”

  “Your arm looks sore,” Shawn said. “Can you move your fingers?”

  The boy gulped. “Not very well. It hurts.”

  “Don’t worry, we’re going to get you to a hospital, and some clever doctors can fix it right up for you.”

  His lower lip jutted out. “I don’t want to go to hospital. I want to go home.”

  “How about we get your mum and dad to meet us there?”

  Ashely nodded. “I suppose that would be all right.”

  “Turner,” Erica said, “we’re going to need a key to get these locks undone. Do you think you could find them?”

  “On it.” He rose to his feet and ran back up the stairs. Within a minute, he returned with the key. “She had them attached to her belt,” he said, bending to unlock Ellie Dempsey, and then going to do the same to Ashley Ford.