Don't Make a Sound

by David Jackson

  ‘Go away.’

  ‘So much for your charm,’ Webley mutters to Cody.

  Cody tries again. ‘Can you open up, please, Gavin? We just need to ask you a few more questions.’

  ‘I don’t know nothing.’

  ‘Well, then, it won’t take very long, will it? Come on, Gavin. We’re not going away till you speak to us, so you might as well get it over with.’

  The caravan shakes a little as Quigley thuds across it. When the door is unlocked, Cody tenses in the expectation that he will have to go running along the Wirral coastline again.

  But Quigley just throws open the door and steps back inside, leaving Cody and Webley to follow.

  Nothing has changed in here. It’s still a tip. Cody’s lip curls as he breathes in a whiff of burger grease. He remains standing as Quigley settles back into his seat and begins sucking on the plastic straw protruding from a carton of blackcurrant cordial.

  Cody points to a piece of paper on the cushion next to Quigley. It has just a few squiggly lines on it at the moment – nothing recognisable.

  ‘New drawing?’

  Quigley nods. Continues sucking up his juice.

  ‘What’s it going to be?’

  It’s a few seconds before Quigley releases his grip on the straw. When he does, he seems out of breath.

  ‘The marina,’ he says. ‘West Kirby.’

  ‘When did you go there?’

  ‘This morning. On the train.’

  ‘That’s right. You like to travel around the coast, don’t you?’

  Quigley returns to his juice box, his lips tightly pursed on the straw.

  Cody steps across to the cupboards, points to one of the drawings taped there.

  ‘This is Leasowe Lighthouse, isn’t it? I think it’s a pretty good likeness, myself. What do you think, DC Webley?’

  Webley nods vigorously. ‘Definitely. You’re quite the artist, aren’t you, Gavin?’

  ‘Now this one . . .’ says Cody, moving along the row, ‘this one had me puzzled. When I first saw it I assumed it must be the Leasowe Castle Hotel. You’ve even written Castell below it, haven’t you? But it’s not Leasowe Castle, is it, Gavin?’

  Quigley’s eyes cross a little as he tries to focus on the carton just inches in front of his face. As though he’s trying to shut the rest of the world out of his field of vision.

  Cody says, ‘Didn’t you tell us you travel quite a distance to visit some of these beaches? I think you even mentioned you get as far as Wales. I’m right about that, aren’t I, Gavin?’

  Quigley takes a long, hard suck on his straw, draining the carton noisily and causing its sides to collapse.

  Cody points again at the legend below the drawing. ‘Where’d you get that spelling, Gavin? Off a road sign when you were there? That’s the Welsh word for castle. And the castle itself – I think that’s Harlech Castle.’ He pauses. ‘It is Harlech, isn’t it?’

  Quigley keeps sucking air from his empty box. Webley moves across and gently prises it out of his grasp.

  She says, ‘It’s okay, Gavin. You can talk to us. We’re not here to hurt you.’

  ‘When did you go to Harlech, Gavin?’ says Cody.

  Quigley shrugs his shoulders.

  ‘Well, was it in the past couple of weeks? A few months ago?’

  ‘Ages. I don’t remember.’

  ‘Ages? Do you mean years? Like, maybe three years ago?’

  Quigley’s eyes flicker up to Cody, then back down again.

  ‘Gavin,’ says Cody, ‘have you ever heard the name Daisy Agnew?’

  A tremor passes through Quigley’s body.

  ‘Daisy Agnew was a little girl who went missing three years ago,’ Cody continues. ‘It happened on the beach in Harlech. You were there, weren’t you, Gavin? You were there when it happened.’

  Quigley presents a pleading face to Webley. ‘It wasn’t me. I had nothing to do with it.’

  ‘Did you take Daisy Agnew, Gavin?’ asks Cody. ‘Did you lead her away from the beach, just as you tried to do with Courtney a few months later?’

  Quigley keeps his eyes on Webley. ‘He’s making things up. I didn’t take any girls. I don’t do that. I don’t hurt people. People hurt me. They always hurt me.’

  Tears are streaming down his cheeks. Webley looks up at Cody, then back to Quigley.

  She says, ‘You can see how it looks, can’t you, Gavin? You can see why we have to ask these questions? Three years ago a girl went missing, and you happened to be in the same place at the same time. Six months later, you were caught leading another little girl away from a car park in Leasowe. And now yet another little girl called Poppy has been taken from her house in Otterspool, just a few streets away from your family home. It’s all starting to look a little suspicious, don’t you think?’

  Cody notices how Webley doesn’t mention Ellie McVitie, for whom there is currently no evidence of a connection to Quigley. And he accepts that this isn’t the only hole. So far, there has been nothing to suggest that Quigley was anywhere near his mother’s house when Poppy was snatched. And then there are the break-ins themselves: does this wreck of a man sitting here really possess the requisite skill and audacity? And what about the white van? Can Quigley even drive? He certainly doesn’t have a licence.

  But Webley is simply following Cody’s lead. They have to keep piling on the pressure. It’s beyond belief that all of this could be sheer coincidence.

  Quigley is trembling. He looks like a trapped animal.

  ‘I didn’t take her,’ he says. ‘I was trying to help her. I thought she was lost.’

  ‘Who?’ says Cody. ‘Daisy?’

  ‘No. The other girl. Courtney. I thought she couldn’t find her mum and dad. I didn’t want the man to come and snatch her.’

  Cody exchanges glances with Webley. ‘Which man, Gavin?’

  ‘The man. The one who took Daisy.’

  ‘What man? Are you making this up, Gavin? Wasn’t it you who took Daisy?’

  ‘No. I swear. I saw him. I told you. She didn’t want to go, but he made her. He put her in his van.’

  And that’s the word. Van. They haven’t mentioned it to Quigley, and it hasn’t been on the news. How does he know about a van?

  Cody finds a seat next to Webley. ‘Are you saying you saw that happen? You saw a man putting Daisy Agnew into his van?’

  ‘Yes. I told you. I said all this before.’

  ‘What do you mean, you—’ And then realisation hits him. ‘You phoned us! You’re the anonymous caller, aren’t you?’

  Quigley nods. ‘I thought you needed to know. I thought it was the right thing to do.’

  Excitement surges through Cody’s system. If what Quigley is telling them is true, then he’s not a suspect at all. On the contrary, he’s a witness. He could be the best lead they’ve got to catch the real offender.

  He takes out his notebook and pen. ‘Tell me about that day, Gavin. What happened exactly?’

  ‘I went to Harlech beach. It took me a long time to get there.’

  ‘How long?’

  ‘About five and a half hours. I had to change trains at Wolverhampton.’

  Cody scribbles down a reminder to check out the train schedules.

  ‘You went there and back in a day?’

  ‘No. I slept on the beach, up in the dunes.’ He points to a scruffy backpack in the corner of the caravan. ‘My tent’s in there.’

  ‘Okay. So when did you see Daisy and the man?’

  ‘The next day, when I was coming home. I went to the toilet in the car park. When I came out, they were there.’

  ‘All right, Gavin. You’re doing well. What happened then?’

  ‘The man was holding the little girl’s hand. She was pointing behind her, back towards the beach. I think he was telling her to hurry up.’

  ‘He wasn’t carrying her?’

  ‘No. She was walking with him, but then I think she changed her mind. She started crying. When the man opened the back
of the van, she started shouting for her mummy.’

  ‘You could hear her saying that?’

  ‘Yes. She was very upset.’

  ‘What did the man do?’

  ‘He picked her up and pushed her into the van. She was screaming. But then he leaned into the van. After that she went quiet.’

  ‘Could you see what he did to her?’

  ‘No. I don’t think it was very nice.’

  ‘And then what?’

  ‘He closed the back of the van. Then he got in and drove away.’

  ‘And what did you do?’

  ‘I went home.’

  ‘You went home? Is that it?’

  Quigley blinks at Cody as though he’s just been told off. ‘I didn’t want to miss my train.’

  ‘You didn’t tell anyone what you’d just seen?’

  ‘I . . . I didn’t know what I saw. I thought it was just a girl being naughty with her dad. I didn’t know what was happening. Not till much later.’

  ‘How much later?’

  ‘A couple of days. I heard it on the news. They said her name was Daisy Agnew, and they described what she was wearing. I knew it was the same girl.’

  ‘And that’s when you decided to call?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Did you call on your mobile?’

  ‘No. I don’t have a mobile. I used a payphone.’

  ‘Where was this?’

  ‘Blackpool. I went to Blackpool beach, but I didn’t like it. It was too busy, too noisy. And I saw all the newspapers about the missing girl, so I called the police and told them what I saw.’

  ‘But you didn’t give your name or tell them how they could find you?’

  Quigley hangs his head. ‘No.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘I was scared. Police ask lots of questions. I didn’t want to be asked lots of questions.’

  ‘So what did you tell them?’

  ‘I told them I saw Daisy being put in a white van by a man.’

  ‘And that’s all?’

  Quigley thinks about this for a second. ‘I told them what the man was wearing.’

  ‘Which was?’

  ‘Jeans and a blue hoody. That’s all I could remember.’

  ‘You didn’t see his face?’

  ‘No.’

  Cody leans back, sighs in exasperation. Their only witness is not telling them anything more than they already know.

  Webley takes over. ‘Tell me about what happened six months after that. When you saw the little girl in Leasowe.’

  Quigley shrugs. ‘I saw her. She was alone, and she looked upset. I thought she was lost. And then I thought about the bad man in that van, and I didn’t want the same thing to happen to this girl. I was worried about her.’

  ‘So you went up to her, is that right?’

  ‘Yes. I said I would help her find her parents, and she took hold of my hand, and then . . . and then . . .’

  ‘You were seen, and you were attacked.’

  Quigley’s mouth droops. He seems to be on the verge of tears.

  ‘And that’s the only reason you approached the girl, to help her find her family again?’

  ‘Yes. I told them that, but they didn’t believe me. Nobody believed me, not even the police.’

  ‘So when the police questioned you, didn’t you tell them why you were so worried for Courtney? Didn’t you tell them about what you’d seen in Harlech?’

  ‘I couldn’t. How could I? They would have thought that was me, too. They would have blamed me for everything. I haven’t told anyone about that. Only you, now. Does that mean I’m in trouble? Are you going to take me away and lock me up?’

  Webley looks to Cody, who says, ‘No, Gavin, we’re not going to lock you up. You’ve told us about it now. You’ve done the right thing.’

  Cody gets up from his seat. Puts his notebook away. ‘We’re going to leave you alone now, Gavin. Thank you for talking to us.’

  He steps across to the door, Webley close behind him.

  ‘Do you want to see my picture?’ says Quigley.

  Cody glances at Webley. It seems they’ve made a friend, but there’s work to be done elsewhere.

  ‘Maybe another time, eh, Gavin?’

  He turns towards the door again. Reaches for the handle.

  ‘It’s got the van on it. And the girl.’

  Cody freezes. Slowly turns back to Gavin.

  ‘What?’

  ‘I did a picture of them. It was a long time ago. I just thought . . . I thought you might like to see it.’

  Cody opens his mouth, but it’s Webley who speaks first. ‘Yes. We’d love to see it. Do you have it here?’

  Cody joins her in scanning the rows of drawings on the walls, but sees nothing relevant.

  Quigley gets up. Goes to his bedroom. Comes back with a thick plastic wallet under his arm. He sets it down on the table, unbuttons it, then starts dragging out piles of drawings.

  ‘It’s here somewhere,’ he mutters. ‘That’s not it. Not that one, either. Here! This is it!’

  Cody takes the piece of paper from him. Holds it up so that he and Webley can get a good look at it. It shows the rear end of a van. At the back window is a young girl’s face, cartoon tears dotting her cheeks. Beyond the van, a hill is surmounted by Harlech castle.

  ‘You saw this?’ says Cody. ‘You saw the girl crying at the window when it drove away?’

  Quigley squirms in his seat. ‘Well, no. I couldn’t see her then, but I thought it was okay to draw her in. Artists are allowed to do that.’

  Cody is already framing his next question. He puts his finger on the relevant spot of the drawing, shows it to Quigley.

  ‘The number plate,’ he says. ‘You’ve written “DOGGY” on it.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Is that what it said? “DOGGY”?’

  Quigley squirms some more. ‘No. Not exactly. I drew this picture about a week after the man took Daisy. I couldn’t remember what it said. I just know it was something about dogs.’

  ‘Think carefully, Gavin. What do you mean when you say it was something about dogs? You mean a breed of dog, or maybe a famous dog? Is that what you mean?’

  Quigley presses his hands to the side of his head. ‘I don’t know. I don’t remember.’

  Cody sighs again. A solid clue to the killer seems tantalisingly just out of reach.

  But perhaps this is enough.

  He has to hope so.

  34

  ‘Did he come into your bedroom?’

  Daisy puts down the comic she has been reading to Poppy. They are lying together on the bed. Ellie is sitting at the table, staring at her own comic. Daisy isn’t sure if she has bothered to turn the pages.

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Malcolm,’ says Poppy. ‘When he took you, did he come into your bedroom?’

  ‘No. Why? Did he come into yours?’

  ‘Yes. I thought there was a monster in my room. He sneaked into our house and put something over my face that made me sleep. Then he brought me here.’

  This is the first time Daisy has heard this tale. She has always assumed that Poppy’s story would be similar to her own, but thought it best not to ask.

  ‘No, he didn’t do that with me. We were on a beach.’

  ‘A beach? Where?’

  ‘I don’t remember. I think it was Wales, but I’m not sure.’

  ‘Were you with your mum and dad? Didn’t they try to stop him?’

  ‘My dad wasn’t living with us then, but my mum was there. She was with her new boyfriend. They were being all lovey-dovey with each other, so I started playing with another girl. Her name was Olivia.’

  ‘I know an Olivia too.’

  ‘Yes. It’s a nice name. I still remember what she looked like. We went up into the sand dunes and played there for ages. But then Olivia left me. She just went, and I was all alone.’

  ‘Were you frightened?’

  ‘Not at first. But then I tried to fin
d my way back to my mum, and I couldn’t see her anywhere. There were lots and lots of people on the beach, but no sign of my mum. Then I started to cry.’

  That memory is still vivid in Daisy’s mind. Despite the horrors she has endured since then, she still has flashbacks to that time on the dunes, running and wailing and believing herself to be lost forever. Sometimes, during her especially low moments, she finds herself blaming her mother and her boyfriend for what came next.

  ‘What happened then?’

  ‘Malcolm found me. He was smiling, and he made me feel better. I thought he looked like a big, friendly teddy bear. He said to me, “You must be Daisy.” And I said yes. And then he said, “I work in the car park. Your mum and dad are there, they’ve been looking everywhere for you. Shall we go and find them?” And then he put out his hand, and I held it, and I went with him.’

  ‘You’re not supposed to go with strangers,’ says Poppy.

  ‘I know,’ she answers. ‘I know.’

  She wishes now, of course, that she had heeded that advice, drummed into her constantly by her mother and her teachers. But she had been so frightened, so upset. And then along came this huge, cuddly teddy bear with his daft smile and his massive outstretched paw of friendship. He knew her name, too. What was the worst that could happen?

  This. This is what could happen.

  ‘You told me fibs, didn’t you?’ says Poppy.

  ‘What? When?’

  ‘When I first came here. You told me you’d only been here for a short while. It’s not true, is it? You’ve been here a long time.’

  Daisy looks at her friend. She cannot lie now. ‘Yes, I’ve been here a long time.’

  She sees the tears welling up in Poppy’s eyes, and she puts an arm around her shoulder and pulls her in close.

  ‘But not for much longer,’ she tells her. ‘We’ll all be out of here soon. Promise.’

  *

  The DVD that Harriet has chosen for them is Toy Story. Daisy blew a sigh of relief when she saw what it was. She had worried that it might be Mary Poppins or Bambi or any number of films dealing with family relationships. She’s not sure how the other two girls would cope with something like that right now. Toy Story is more about friends, and that’s okay. It’s about trying to survive against impossible odds, just as the girls in this room are doing. And although there isn’t much laughter going on at the moment, at least the film is keeping everyone entertained. For a short while, they can forget their problems.