Danger by Association: The Riverhill Trilogy: Book 3

by Heather Burnside

  “I don’t know. It’s probably not the police that tipped them off; it could be anything Reet. Maybe the security staff at the hospital knew the police were onto something. They might have even been instructed to notify the police if they saw the man hanging about the hospital again.”

  “What d’you mean, ‘onto something’? That sounds like they do think it’s him. Oh my God, John! If that man’s done anything to harm Daniel, I swear, I’ll kill the bastard with my own bare hands.”

  “You’ll have to join the queue.” Then, as if realising he had spoken out of turn for an officer of the law, he added. “Look, it might be nothing. They’re just following procedure. They always check out all the local paedophiles when something like this happens, but it doesn’t necessarily mean he’s guilty.”

  “Why was he in the bloody hospital then?” asked Rita.

  “I don’t know, but if the police had enough on him they’d have made an arrest, and they haven’t done, so try not to worry.”

  “That’s easy for you to say. I’m tearing my bloody hair out here!”

  “I know, I’m sorry, Rita. Like I say, if I could do anything, I would. He’s my nephew too, don’t forget.”

  Rita came off the phone, disheartened that she wasn’t able to elicit any help from her brother, but determined that she would find a way to bring her son back.

  Chapter 14

  Tuesday 18th June 1996

  “Did Jamal know about Daniel being kept in the hospital?” Raeni asked her younger son, Devan.

  “I don’t know. Why, what’s wrong?”

  “Them saying in the paper about this paedophile but I’m not so sure.”

  “What you trying to say?”

  “There’s something funny if you ask me. Why hasn’t your brother been home since the child went missing?”

  “Come off it, Mam. Our Jamal wouldn’t do owt like that.”

  “Well, he was angry enough about them taking Daniel to Greece and not bringing him to see me. Matter of fact, that was one of the things he said the last time I seen him.”

  “So! That doesn’t mean anything. He was right; they were out of order.”

  Raeni reached over from the chair where she was sitting and put her hand on Devan’s shoulder, pleading with him. “Do you know where Jamal is, Devan? I haven’t seen him since Sunday. I tried ringing that mobile phone he has, but he won’t answer any of my calls.”

  Devan pulled away from her. “I don’t know owt. Why you hassling me?”

  “Because you’re his brother.” Raeni’s voice began to crack as the emotion threatened to overwhelm her. “I know he tells you things. I need to know where he is, Devan. He’s my son, and that missing child is my grandchild. If you see Jamal, please ask him to bring the child home safe.”

  “I’ve told you, I don’t know anything. For fuck’s sake!” Devan replied as he rose from the sofa and stormed out of the room.

  “Well at least tell me where he hangs about then!” Raeni shouted to his retreating back, but she was wasting her time. She tutted to herself at his use of bad language, but was too troubled to pursue the matter. He wouldn’t take any notice anyway. They never did.

  Although Raeni was convinced that Devan knew something, he was refusing to tell her what it was. She’d keep trying though. It was too much of a coincidence that Jamal hadn’t been home since around the time of Daniel’s disappearance. Of course, she didn’t tell the police any of this. She wanted to prevent her sons from getting into trouble if she could, and voicing her suspicions to the police would only make matters worse.

  It wasn’t the first time Jamal had spent days away from home. In fact, she was forever complaining that he used the place like a hotel. But something wasn’t right. She could sense it, and she wouldn’t settle till she got to the bottom of it.

  ***

  Tuesday 18th June 1996 – Evening

  John’s recent phone conversation with Rita was still on his mind when he arrived at work that evening.

  “We’ll have to stop meeting like this,” said Janet, catching his attention as he stepped into the lift.

  “Oh, hi Janet. Alright?” John responded.

  “Not too bad,” she said, “Although it’s a bit hectic on the team at the moment. DI Collins is going mad to find this missing child.”

  John didn’t let on that Daniel was his nephew. He could do without the pitying looks and words of sympathy right now. But he was curious.

  “Are you making any headway?” he asked.

  “No, we were holding a man, a bloody paedophile, but we had to let him go. Not enough evidence.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. The DI’s not too pleased, but what can you do?”

  “Does the DI think he’s your man then?”

  “Could be. He was hanging about the hospital when the child disappeared. And the previous day too. And he’s a local.”

  “Sounds suspicious to me.” John pretended to mull the facts over in his mind as though he was just an intrigued officer. “So you’re saying he lives near the hospital?”

  “Oh yeah. On the Riverhill Estate.”

  The mention of the Riverhill focused John’s attention even more.

  “The Riverhill?” he asked.

  “Yeah. Know it, do you?”

  “Oh yeah, we’ve had plenty of problems with the Riverhill. We raided a house just the other week on Sandicroft Way. He’s definitely in bad company, anyway.”

  Again, John omitted to mention that he was brought up on the estate.

  “He’s at the other side of the estate,” said Janet. “Spinner Avenue.”

  “Spinner. Yeah, I know Spinner. Near that pub, what’s its name?”

  “I know the one you mean: the Brown Cow. He’s at the far end though, near to Portsmouth Road.

  “Aah, right.”

  They remained silent for several seconds until the lift stopped and Janet got out.

  “See you, John,” she said.

  “See you. And good luck with the case. I hope you find him.”

  ***

  Wednesday 19th June 1996

  The visit to Irene was troubling Joan. Irene’s reaction to the news of Daniel’s disappearance was strange. Instead of displaying sadness, she had been more interested in their feelings about Rita taking him to Greece. She raised the matter again with Ged, but skirted around the issue, wary of annoying him if she accused Irene outright. After all, as far as Ged was concerned, the subject was now dropped.

  “She’s a funny one your Irene, isn’t she?” Joan asked.

  “What d’you mean?”

  “A bit obsessive about that house, isn’t she? When you think about it, I’m surprised we even suspected her …”

  “You suspected her,” Ged interrupted.

  “Alright. Well, like I was saying, now we’ve been to see her, I can’t imagine her with a child. Not in a house like that. She’d be too frightened of it messing the place up.”

  “Oh aye, she’d have a bleedin’ nervous breakdown.” Ged paused for a moment, pensive, then added, “Mind you, she wanted kids.”

  “You’re joking?”

  “No, straight up. Have I never told you? She was engaged to be married at one time. She was with him a while too until he pissed off on her.”

  “Really?” asked Joan. “Maybe that’s why she’s so obsessed with the house, because there’s not much else in her life.”

  “Maybe. I think her trouble is, she could do with someone giving her a good seeing to.”

  “Oh Ged, you dirty sod,” laughed Joan. Then, bringing the conversation back on track, she added, “I wonder what kind of parent she would have been … whether she would have been really strict. Or maybe she’d have been a different person if she had kids. Maybe she’s just like she is ’cos she’s bitter.”

  “I doubt it. She’s always been the same. She was a right bitch when we were kids. I think she just saw me as a pain in the arse because I was a lot younger than her. She was always gi
ving me a slap if I said the wrong thing.”

  Joan could well imagine how irritating he was as a child, but she played along. “Really?” she asked. “That’s a bit out of order, isn’t it?”

  “Oh aye, she even locked me in the loo once because she said I was getting on her nerves. My mam went bleedin’ mad when she found me in there.”

  “Jesus, Ged! She sounds like a right psycho. I hope she hasn’t got Daniel if that’s how she treats kids.”

  “Relax, will yer? I’ve told yer, I had a scan round the house. There’s no one there but her. Besides, like you say, why would she want a kid in her precious house?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe she thinks she’s doing us a favour. Imagine if she came here with him once Rita was back in Greece.”

  “Turn it in, Joan. Now you’re just being fuckin’ ridiculous!” shouted Ged. “I’ve told you, our Irene hasn’t got him. Full stop.”

  Joan knew she’d pushed things far enough so she left it for now. She was still uneasy though. There was something about the way Ged got on the defensive so quickly. She had a feeling there was something he wasn’t telling her. But she had no idea what it was.

  Chapter 15

  Wednesday 19th June 1996

  Maurice had arrived home the previous evening, exhausted after hours of extensive police questioning. After a busy day exploring the local area, he was enjoying a few peaceful moments re-familiarising himself with his new home when he heard someone knocking. He sighed and dragged himself from his chair to see who it could be.

  Maurice wasn’t in the best of moods when he swung the front door open. On spotting a stranger, he prepared himself to stop any attempts at sales patter and get rid of him as quickly as possible. But the man didn’t speak. Before Maurice had a chance to react, he charged into his home, pushing him so viciously that he stumbled backwards. Then he shut the door, away from prying eyes.

  The blood drained from Maurice’s face on realising he had been found. He knew this day would come. They always found out where he lived sooner or later. But this character was particularly menacing. He shoved Maurice up against the wall with one hand round his throat and the other over his mouth. His attacker was big and intimidating with a fervour that suggested things were personal.

  “Right, I’m gonna take my hand away from your mouth,” he said, “but you scream for help and you’ve fuckin’ had it, OK?”

  Maurice nodded.

  As soon as the man removed his hand, Maurice began crying, “Don’t hurt me, please don’t hurt me.”

  The tears streamed down his face mingling with mucus from his nose. This pitiful sight seemed to inflame the man more as he slammed his fist into Maurice’s face then wiped his smeared knuckles on Maurice’s clothing in disgust.

  “Shut your snivelling, you cowardly bastard!” he shouted. With one hand still around Maurice’s throat, he smacked him repeatedly about the head. “I wanna know where Daniel is, so you better start fuckin’ talking!”

  “I don’t know,” Maurice cried as the man’s hand tightened round his throat.

  “You fuckin’ liar! The police haven’t been holding you for nothing.”

  Slam! The man was now aiming blows at his stomach. Maurice’s reflexes were urging him to crouch, but the man still had his throat in a stranglehold.

  He tried to reply although he was winded and the man’s hand was constricting his throat. Thankfully, he eased the pressure a little so he could speak. “They didn’t arrest me. It was only for questioning,” he spluttered.

  “And why were they questioning you?”

  “I don’t know,” Maurice whimpered. Then, guessing that the man must know something to have found his address, he added, “Maybe it’s ’cos of … of… what I’ve done in the past … but I swear I’m not like that anymore.”

  The man didn’t look convinced, so Maurice continued. “It’s always the same with the cops. They pull in anyone with a record if a kid goes missing.”

  “Anyone with a record for messing with kids, don’t you mean?”

  He nodded, shamefaced.

  “Well I don’t fuckin’ believe you! Once a paedo, always a paedo as far as I’m concerned.”

  The man then released his hand from Maurice’s throat while he reached into his pocket, bringing out a length of flexible wire.

  “Take off your jumper and turn round,” he instructed.

  Maurice hesitated for a moment, then the man grabbed hold of his arm spinning him so viciously that he complied. Once Maurice had removed his pullover the man secured his hands then trailed the wire down to his feet and secured them. He rolled up the pullover to use as a gag, which he tied in place using the sleeves and an additional piece of flexible wire to secure it into position.

  Maurice feared that he would torture him then leave him tied up but instead he began searching the house. He could hear him rushing around and slamming doors upstairs, and when he had covered every room he returned and booted Maurice in the shins several times. Maurice howled into the gag as wave after wave of pain shot through his legs.

  “Where have you hidden him?” the man demanded.

  Maurice shook his head, unable to speak because of the gag.

  “I hope you’re not lying to me and you haven’t got him at some mate’s house,” the man said as he grabbed Maurice by the throat again and kept banging his head against the wall. He was so close that Maurice could see the anger and hatred in his eyes, and feel him breathing heavily into his face.

  “You ready to fuckin’ talk yet?” he asked, raining punches on Maurice’s head and torso.

  He then untied the gag, and Maurice resumed his desperate protestations. “I swear I haven’t got him,” he cried.

  The man left him for a few moments, disappearing into the kitchen. He returned carrying a pair of scissors. Maurice squirmed as he approached him with the scissors open. “No, please!” he begged, but to his surprise the man cut loose the ties that were binding his hands together.

  “You can do the rest,” he said, dumping the scissors on the stairwell on his way out before adding a few parting words. “If you’re lying to me, I swear I’ll be back and I’ll finish the fuckin’ job off.”

  The beating had been savage but Maurice drew comfort from the fact that his attacker seemed to have a personal interest in the missing child. This could mean he wasn’t a random paedophile hater, and it might therefore have been an isolated attack. However, all hopes of this vanished when Maurice overheard the man speak to a neighbour before he made his getaway.

  “Keep your eyes on your kids, love. You’ve got a paedophile living next door.”

  Maurice dropped to the floor and wept renewed tears at the realisation of what lay ahead now word was out.

  ***

  Wednesday 19th June 1996

  When John came home he couldn’t spot Paula straightaway. Hearing movement from the back of the house, he assumed she was in the kitchen and shouted a greeting, “Hi love, it’s only me,” before racing upstairs to the bathroom.

  Once there, he removed his blood-spattered clothing and washed the blood and mucus off his hands. He had already taken off his disguise before reaching home: a false goatee and moustache, and a baseball cap. Although not very original, it should stop him getting recognised if he needed to attend a callout in that area.

  Then he went to the bedroom where he changed his pullover and concealed the incriminating garments behind the wardrobe. Hopefully Paula wouldn’t find them there. He would decide what to do with them when she was out of the house.

  A few minutes later he waltzed into the kitchen, adopted an air of nonchalance and gave Paula a peck on the cheek.

  “That’s more like it,” she teased. “I was beginning to think you’d gone off me for a minute.”

  “What d’you mean?”

  “Didn’t bother coming to see me, no kiss, no cuddle, just straight upstairs,” she said, sticking out her bottom lip in mock petulance.

  “Ah,” he smiled. “Sorry
about that. I was desperate for the loo.”

  “Desperate for a change of clothes too by the looks of it. You didn’t have those on when you went out earlier.”

  “No, I er, I fancied a bit of a freshen up. It’s been a hectic day. God Paula, what is this, twenty questions?”

  “Just taking an interest in my better half,” she smiled.

  “Nice to hear it,” he laughed, giving her another quick kiss before retiring to the living room.

  Once there he heaved a sigh of relief. He preferred it if Paula didn’t find out what he was up to today. He actually preferred it if nobody found out what he was up to; neither his wife, his sister nor his best mate. He wasn’t proud of it but it was something he felt he needed to do.

  The prompting by Tony to do something, together with Rita’s pleas for help, had made him feel as though he didn’t have a choice. If Daniel had come to harm at that man’s hands while he sat back and did nothing, he would never have forgiven himself.

  So he’d acted against protocol. Having discovered from Janet where Maurice James lived, it wasn’t difficult to find out from Maurice’s neighbours whether anyone by that name had moved into the area.

  John decided beforehand to use some form of threat to get the paedophile to talk, yet he hadn’t intended to go quite so far. But the man was a typical bully: a scrawny, pallid, inadequate wimp. The sight of that bastard snivelling and begging really got to John.

  Maurice James was probably the type of man who got off on bullying small children, but when he was on the receiving end, he was a total coward. It brought to mind all those kids who must have cried for mercy at that monster’s hands. And would they have received any mercy? Not a chance! That was when John had snapped.

  He hadn’t meant to tell the neighbour about the paedophile either. He knew that once people knew, Maurice James would be persecuted, and everyone on the estate would make his life a misery. But John was still fired up at that point. He couldn’t stand the thought of young children living next door to a paedophile, and their parents not having a clue.