by Steven Dunne
‘No, no, no. That’s impossible,’ said Alice.
‘Why?’
‘He doesn’t even have a passport.’
Brook and Noble glanced at each other. ‘So it would surprise you to learn that Kyle applied for a passport three months ago?’ asked Noble.
Alice Kennedy looked genuinely stunned. ‘Yes, it would, Sergeant. Are you sure?’
‘According to the Passport Service.’
‘It’s something they check for missing persons over eighteen,’ said Poole, with a pompous sniff. ‘So they know the search parameters.’
‘So he may have been planning a trip.’ Alice’s face brightened. ‘I suppose that’s a ray of hope.’
‘We think it’s significant,’ said Noble.
‘But why didn’t he say anything to me?’
‘As a parent, I have to say it’s not unusual for teenagers to keep things from us.’ A shard of personal anguish infected Brook’s features for a moment but passed just as quickly. ‘And when several young adults disappear together it can point to some kind of trip — sometimes to a festival, a booze cruise, even a holiday.’
‘But it doesn’t make sense. He’s never been abroad before. We could never afford it after the separation.’
‘I was thinking of treating him after his A-levels though,’ interjected Poole. ‘I was putting something aside for him. For a surprise.’ He smiled across at Alice, hoping his assertion of economic well-being would bring comfort. She looked back at him without expression.
‘Wait — wouldn’t Kyle need his birth certificate for a passport?’ asked Alice.
‘Yours too, if it’s his first,’ answered Noble. ‘Would Kyle know where they are?’
‘Of course. I keep everything in the office in a folder. In case something happens to me.’
‘Could you. .?’ prompted Noble. She hurried upstairs to check.
Brook glanced across at Poole. When he thought nobody was watching, the former pathologist was staring at PC Patel. Noble had noticed it too. And without showing she was aware of it, Brook’s uniformed colleague folded her arms across her chest.
‘We wondered whether he’d asked you to endorse his passport photograph, Len?’ enquired Brook.
Poole broke off his examination of Patel’s body. ‘Me?’
‘Well, a family member or a parent isn’t allowed to do it.’
Poole shook his head. ‘He wouldn’t ask me. He’d know I’d mention it to Alice.’
Alice returned to the sitting room deep in thought. ‘They’re there but I can tell they’ve been taken out of the wallet.’
‘What about money? You told the other officer who called that Kyle had his own bank account,’ said Noble.
‘Yes. At Santander. It was a birthday present last year,’ said Alice. ‘I gave the officer the details.’
‘We’ve got them. But there doesn’t seem to be much money in there.’
‘I put fifty pounds in a week ago, Sergeant, but he’ll have spent most of it already,’ said Poole, shrugging his shoulders. ‘Kids, eh?’
‘Is he expecting further funds?’ asked Brook.
‘His EMA was cut but we put in the equivalent every Friday,’ said Alice. ‘Thirty pounds pocket-money.’
‘It’s a direct debit, straight from my account,’ announced Poole. Alice’s face darkened. ‘Should I cancel it?’
‘No,’ said Noble. ‘If he’s in the country, he may try to access the money. It would give us a lead.’
‘What about transport?’ asked Brook.
‘Transport?’
‘Does Kyle own a bicycle, for instance?’
‘He does,’ said Alice. ‘It should be in the garage.’
‘It’s still in there, Sergeant.’ Poole nodded. ‘I had it out yesterday. Got to stay trim at my age, you know.’
Brook answered his grin with a faint nod. ‘What about any driving experience?’ he said to Alice.
‘Not even a lesson,’ she replied.
‘I was going to-’ began Poole.
‘Len!’ snapped Alice, her hands splaying in exasperation. Len was puzzled by her outburst but remained silent.
‘What about Kyle’s mood?’ enquired Noble, filling the awkward silence that followed. ‘Maybe he was excited recently, buying new clothes, that sort of thing?’
‘No, nothing like that,’ said Alice. ‘The only thing Kyle was thinking about was his exams. He’s keen to do well. He wants to live in London eventually.’
‘Could he have gone there?’ asked PC Patel, in a high-pitched voice.
‘He doesn’t know anyone in London, so not without money, no.’
‘You told us Kyle’s on Facebook and we have his email account,’ said Noble. ‘Do you know if he’s on any other social network?’
Alice shook her head. ‘You mean Twitter? I wouldn’t have thought so. He’s just too shy.’
Brook nodded. ‘Can we see his room?’
‘Of course.’
‘Perhaps he has luggage missing.’
‘No, I told the other officer.’ She buried her head in the handkerchief wrapped tightly around her bony fingers. ‘It’s no use — Kyle’s dead. I can feel it.’
PC Patel put down her cup and placed her arms around the distraught woman. ‘You mustn’t think like that, Alice. We’re doing all we can. You’ve got to stay positive for Kyle.’
Len Poole ranged up behind Alice to put a pudgy hand on her shoulder but she shook it off.
‘Constable Patel’s right,’ said Noble. ‘And you said yourself, the passport is good news. It means he was planning a trip. There’s every chance he’s fine. He’s not in any of the local hospitals. .’
‘He wouldn’t be if he was lying dead in a ditch.’
‘After four or five days in a ditch the chances of finding Kyle’s body would be high,’ said Brook.
‘But if he was alive he would have contacted me. I’m all he has; he wouldn’t let me suffer like this.’
‘But he left his phone, love,’ said Poole. ‘Maybe he can’t contact you.’
‘But why leave his phone? That’s the point, isn’t it?’
‘What about his father in Stoke?’ asked Noble. ‘We’ve contacted him but he claims he’s not seen or heard from Kyle.’
‘That bastard,’ she spat out with surprising venom. ‘He hasn’t seen Kyle for five years, or wanted to, and Kyle would never go near him, the way he rejected us.’
‘But might he contact his father, let him know where he’s going?’
‘Before he spoke to me? No chance. But you’re welcome to ask.’
‘We will,’ said Brook. ‘I notice your house is for sale.’
‘We’re moving to Chester,’ she said. ‘We were there this weekend looking at houses. We’re just waiting for Kyle to finish his exams.’ Her lip began to wobble again.
‘You say he left his phone behind. Have you checked his calls?’ asked Brook.
‘I couldn’t. It’s not working.’
‘Mind if we try?’
She fished around in her handbag and pulled out her son’s mobile. ‘Here. And take his laptop from his room. If you can work out his passwords, maybe there’s an email or-’
‘We’ll send someone to collect it.’
Noble produced an evidence bag even though prints were already compromised. Mrs Kennedy dropped the phone in and Noble tried to turn it on through the plastic.
‘I’d give anything if Kyle was with his father, but he isn’t,’ said Alice. ‘That scumbag dumped us both as soon as he found out. .’ She hesitated.
‘. . as soon as he found out Kyle was gay,’ finished Brook.
Alice stared at Brook. ‘Yes. How did you know?’
‘Len told Sergeant Grey that Kyle was “sensitive”. I assumed that was code.’
She nodded. ‘Kyle is gay. Or he thinks he is. I was hoping it was just a phase.’
‘But he’s still a nice boy, Inspector,’ chipped in Poole.
‘And why wouldn’t he be?’ deman
ded Alice.
‘I’m sorry, love, I only meant-’
‘Does he have a boyfriend?’ interrupted Brook.
‘Don’t be disgusting,’ said Alice. ‘He isn’t like that. He isn’t. .’
‘What? Active?’
‘Not at all. I know Kyle.’
‘You didn’t know he applied for a passport,’ pointed out Brook.
The tears appeared again and Brook gestured to PC Patel, who provided further comfort. Brook didn’t enjoy this part of the job. Pushing and cajoling the vulnerable was distasteful but experience had taught him that such pressure ensured the best information.
When the tears subsided, Alice Kennedy tried again. ‘You don’t know him, Inspector. He’s kind and gentle and shy. He wouldn’t know how to approach. . people. . in that way.’
‘So you think he’s still a virgin?’ Remembering the distressing circumstances of his own estranged daughter’s loss of sexual innocence at fifteen, Brook made an effort to soften his tone.
Alice nodded. ‘He would’ve told me. Not that he didn’t fall in love.’
Brook smiled. ‘But from a distance.’
‘Exactly.’
‘And had he fallen in love recently?’
She looked up at him. ‘Yes, Inspector. I think he might have.’
‘Any idea who?’
‘He wouldn’t tell me anything like that.’
‘And might this person have been at Kyle’s party on Friday?’ asked Noble.
‘It’s possible, but I wasn’t there. Besides, it wasn’t a party, it was more of a gathering. He only had a handful of people he was friendly with. People like himself; shy, sensitive. He wasn’t going to bother celebrating at all, but they persuaded him.’
‘They, being?’ Noble held his pen poised over his notebook.
‘You’ve already got all the names I know. And there was only one other boy invited I knew about,’ replied Alice. ‘Russell Thomson. Rusty.’ In spite of herself she giggled then looked round guiltily.
‘What’s funny?’
‘You’re going to ask if Russell could have been Kyle’s. .’ She burst out laughing again. ‘No. He is not Kyle’s type,’ she concluded. ‘Rusty is even more shy and introverted than Kyle. He barely speaks when he meets you and when he does, he’s too afraid to even lift his eyes off the ground. He makes Kyle look like Russell Brand, doesn’t he, Len?’
‘It’s true,’ conceded Poole, with a tight smile.
‘And his mum is very pretty, isn’t she, Len?’
‘I haven’t met her,’ replied Poole. ‘You saw her at a school social evening, remember. I wasn’t there.’
‘Russell Thomson?’ Brook raised an eyebrow at Noble, who nodded. They had Thomson’s address. Brook decided not to ask who Russell Brand was.
‘And the two missing girls were also at the party?’ asked Brook.
‘As far as I know,’ replied Alice. ‘We were away. Kyle knows Adele Watson from classes and they sometimes study together. She’s very smart but very serious. She’s a writer — poetry, I think. Well, I’m not surprised. She has everything going for her. And she’s really pretty. She gets on well with Kyle. Well, you know how it is with pretty girls and. .’ She tailed off, not wanting to hear the word again. When no one else filled the vacuum, she finally said, ‘Gays.’
‘What about Becky Blake?’ said Noble.
‘I didn’t know her that well,’ replied Alice. ‘We’ve seen her around with that other friend of hers, Fern something. She’s attractive in a cheap sort of way.’
‘Bit full of herself,’ agreed Len. ‘Reckoned she was going to be a model.’ The past tense prompted a discreet glance between the two detectives. ‘Well, if her dad had the final say she’d be a shoo-in. Had the poor sod twisted round her little finger, she did. Nothing too much trouble for her — clothes, the latest phones.’
‘Not the type to get on well with my Kyle,’ added Alice. ‘I’m surprised he invited her, but it takes all sorts. She may have been nicer than we thought.’
‘What about alcohol and drugs?’ asked Noble.
‘I bought Kyle a dozen WKDs from Bargain Booze,’ replied Poole. ‘He could have asked for a lot more and I’d have given him the money, but he isn’t much of a drinker.’
Brook eyed Mrs Kennedy for a reaction but she maintained the face of a stoic. Brook had been right about the basis for their relationship. Almost every time Len Poole opened his mouth it was to proclaim economic dominion over Alice. ‘Mrs Kennedy?’
‘Len’s right,’ she agreed, without looking up. ‘Obviously he’d tried a few things. Don’t they all? But drugs made him feel sick; tobacco too. He drank a lot for a year when he was sixteen and still working things out in his head. Nowadays children have to lay claim to adulthood before they’re ready. It’s so sad. Once he became more adult he had nothing to prove.’
‘And when was the last time you saw Kyle?’
‘I spoke to him on Friday afternoon before we left for Wales, through his bedroom door. I actually saw him last on the Thursday night. He went out with a CD and a poster. He said it was for a friend. Don’t ask me who.’
‘What time was that?’
‘About nine.’
‘What was his mood?’
‘Excited, nervous. About the party, I assumed.’
‘You didn’t see him after that?’
‘No. I heard him come in very late. He just ran up to his room and slammed the door.’
‘So you wouldn’t know what he was wearing last.’
‘Not for sure, but he only ever wore jeans and a T-shirt,’ replied Alice. ‘And a blue G-STAR hoodie to go out in. That’s missing.’
‘What about next-door neighbours?’ asked Brook.
‘Neighbours?’
‘They may have seen something the night of the party.’
‘Well, there’s Colin and Leanne, this way,’ Alice said, pointing. ‘They’re away. And the Stevensons, the other side. They were here. They’ve got two young children.’
Alice Kennedy stood by the door as Brook and Noble searched the small bedroom. It was surprisingly tidy, even the bed was made. They found nothing of interest, with no sign of Kyle’s secret passport, and left the laptop for the Scene of Crime Officers to dust for prints before possible removal. No kids used diaries in 2011. Kyle’s entire life would be in his phone, his emails or on a social networking site like Facebook or Bebo.
‘Is his room normally this tidy?’ asked Brook. Mrs Kennedy shook her head. ‘And you say you touched nothing except to pick up the mobile and the leaflet.’
‘Correct.’
Noble produced the mobile, inside its clear bag. ‘Where were they?’
‘On the bed, the phone on top of the leaflet.’
Noble took the leaflet from Brook and arranged the two artefacts on the bed. ‘Like so?’
Alice Kennedy nodded.
‘What about the aftermath of the party?’
‘Nothing out of place when we got home. No mess, no stains, no washing up in the sink, no empties. As if. .’ She bowed her head.
‘As if he was getting his affairs in order,’ said Brook.
‘Only later did we realise it was odd,’ she added. ‘Oh, there was one thing. Blood.’
‘Blood?’ said Brook. ‘Is this the sticking plaster?’
‘Yes, it was in the rubbish. It was just a tiny bit, soaked into a small plaster. There was a bit of linen bandage as well. I assume one of them cut themselves.’
‘Did the other officer take the plaster?’ asked Brook, looking from Noble to Mrs Kennedy.
‘No, I threw it out, though the bag should still be in the dustbin. They haven’t collected yet.’
‘Sergeant Noble will need to dig it out, with your permission.’ Brook declined to look at his DS.
‘Of course. It couldn’t have been more than a graze,’ she said, though her face now betrayed unease at Brook’s interest.
Brook gestured around the room. ‘Have you checked his wardro
be and drawers?’
‘Yes.’
‘Anything obviously missing?’ asked Noble.
‘He often went out with a small knapsack which he kept on the back of the kitchen door. It’s gone. His MP3 would’ve been in there. Maybe some jeans and underwear, his G-Star hoodie. That’s it.’
Brook was fairly certain that an MP3 was some type of modern Walkman. The detectives asked a few more questions then let Alice return to the lounge.
When she was out of earshot, Noble said, ‘There’s no SIM card in the phone.’
‘That’ll make things a bit harder. Kyle obviously doesn’t want to be found.’
‘You think that’s what it is?’
‘We’ll see.’ Brook stood in the middle of the room looking at the posters on the walls. ‘Kyle had quite a thing for The Smiths — and Morrissey in particular. Nobody else gets a look-in.’
Noble turned to him with a mocking grin. ‘That’s groovy, daddio.’
‘Yeah, all right John, I’m not dead yet. And it’s not as though you’re the right side of thirty. Besides, this is a lot nearer my youth than it is Kyle’s or yours. You may not know it but Morrissey’s a gay icon — tells us a bit more about Kyle.’
‘That he likes gay icons,’ chipped in Noble.
‘That he thinks for himself and doesn’t just follow the herd. He’s different enough to choose what he likes rather than what’s in vogue.’ Brook sauntered to the window to look out over the road. He stopped and peered out into the gloom, his gaze held by a young man standing beneath a streetlight on the pavement outside. He was tall and powerfully built and wore a sweatshirt, baggy shorts down to his knees and chunky training shoes. Steam rose from him as he took an ostentatious breather, hands on knees. But in spite of this, Brook was convinced the young man was watching the house, looking directly up at him, framed in the light of Kyle’s bedroom window. A moment later, the young man took a deep breath and turned to power away up the street.
Brook looked at his watch. ‘Have we got DNA?’
‘Toothbrush. The others too.’
‘I’ve seen enough,’ Brook decided. ‘Get a copy of Kyle’s passport application sent over. We ought to find out who endorsed his likeness on the photograph. Maybe we’re looking for an older man.’