by Mari Hannah
Frankie wanted to punch the air. She hadn’t timed their journey and guessed that Stone had googled the information before they left the station. It was a good ploy, one that put Parker on the back foot. His chest rose and fell, a deep intake of breath he couldn’t hide. Between them, they had got to him.
‘Let’s return to Justine for a moment,’ Stone continued. ‘You said she’d calmed down by the time you got home. What did you mean by that?’
‘What I actually said was climbed down.’ He pointed at the mobile on the table. ‘Check your recording.’ He was being pedantic, putting the DI in his place. It was a stalling tactic while he tried to second-guess what was coming next.
Frankie was surprised by his superior attitude, the way he spoke to Stone as if he were some thick Geordie boy who wouldn’t know his arse from his elbow.
The DI wasn’t playing his silly games.
‘Answer the question,’ he said.
‘Justine told me that she’d found my DM.’
‘What DM was this?’ Frankie asked.
‘I have no idea. I never sent one.’
‘And yet we have a screenshot of it,’ Stone said.
Frankie was urging him to go for the jugular. Her boss kept his cool. They had very different styles. Parker might now be a man under immense pressure, but he was apparently well connected. Not a pillar of society exactly, but respected among the business community, on the board of more than one charity, a member of the Round Table and so on. On the face of it, he wasn’t making much sense. In fact, he was looking downright guilty. As the step-parent of a missing child, Parker needed careful handling. If Parker was innocent of any wrongdoing, it would look bad for the police if they placed him under arrest.
‘I never sent a message, I swear it.’ He pointed at Frankie. ‘She examined my phone. Ask her.’
‘She has a name and a rank,’ Stone said calmly.
‘And she doesn’t believe a word you’re saying,’ Frankie added.
Stone cut her off. ‘Let’s move on . . .’ His focus was back on Parker. ‘You spent a week with your stepson while his mother was in Majorca. How did you get on?’
‘Very well.’
‘Were there any disagreements between the two of you that might be relevant to his disappearance? Stepchildren can be difficult sometimes.’
‘No. And, for the record, Daniel isn’t at all difficult. We may not be blood relatives but he and I enjoy a close relationship, as good as any father and son.’
‘In that case, why did it take you two hours to report him missing?’ Frankie asked.
Parker hesitated, clearly tired of all the questioning. ‘It was important to establish that he was missing. I made a few calls. I spoke to McCall. These things take time, as I’m sure you’re aware. Then I drove down to Wallsend. That’s twenty-five miles from here. Unlike you, I don’t have a flashing blue light. It took me three quarters of an hour to get there. These days police stations are not conveniently placed for easy access, are they? It took me ten minutes to work out which bloody station would deal with a case of this nature, a few more to find the one that covers my area. Can you imagine how frustrating that is, given the circumstances?’
Neither detective could argue with that. The public were up in arms about the level of cover, particularly so in rural areas where you’d be hard pressed to spot a uniform and, when you did, they were never on foot. It was a bone of contention among the rank and file.
‘You could’ve phoned,’ Frankie said.
Parker was beginning to lose his rag. ‘I didn’t want the Control Room. I wanted to speak to a human. Someone who would understand the urgency of finding Daniel before his mother arrived in the UK. I was frantic. How do you think I felt?’ He was so slick. He had an answer for everything.
A shadow crossed the room.
Parker looked toward the window.
Alex was in the garden, head down as she walked.
Her husband turned his attention to the detectives, his face set like granite. ‘If there are no more questions, I need to be with my wife.’
‘No, sir,’ Frankie said. ‘Forgive my bluntness, but you need to start telling the truth. You lied about what time you left the office yesterday. You lied about driving straight home and where you were when you accessed Justine’s message. You lied to Alex about why you didn’t answer her text when she landed at Newcastle airport last night. I heard you myself. You are very close to being arrested, so start talking.’
Parker glowered at her.
She held his gaze. ‘You want me to get the cuffs out? I’m quite happy to. A child is missing. Your wife’s only child. For God’s sake, man, you’re not being honest and it’s making you look bad.’
What Frankie didn’t say was that Parker was fast becoming a prime suspect in his stepson’s disappearance. There was no need. He’d worked that out all by himself.
15
‘You’re mental.’ Frankie slammed the car door. Pulling her seat belt across her left shoulder, she glared at Stone as she clicked it into place. ‘David, you’re making a big mistake. He’s not being straight with us. We both know that. If it were up to me, he’d have been in the back of this car and so would I. Jesus! Last night you were off your game. Today you’ve really lost the plot. We had Parker on the rails and you decide to walk away? What the hell were you thinking?’
Stone started the car. ‘I’m thinking I’m going to have to rein you in.’
‘Don’t you dare make out that I’m being overzealous—’
‘Aren’t you?
‘No! Far from it. I’m following the evidence. I thought we both were.’
Stone turned left towards Scots Gap, then took a right towards Bolam, keen to get to the crime scene at Ponteland in one piece. As the car sped along the undulating, winding country lane, Frankie continued her rant. He’d never seen her so enraged. A few miles on and there was no let-up.
‘Look,’ he said eventually, ‘just because you don’t like Parker, doesn’t make him guilty. I don’t doubt that he has some explaining to do, but we’re not ready to make a move on him yet. A lot of that in there was bravado! You said he was upset at the station. Anyone who cared to look would see he still is. He’s under pressure—’
‘So would you be if you’d killed your kid.’
‘You don’t know that.’
‘And, with respect, neither do you.’
‘It was my call to make, Frankie.’
‘Well it was the wrong one.’ She went quiet.
Stone’s relief didn’t last.
‘Oh, I get it,’ she said. ‘He’s a big cheese, so we must lay off, is that it? What is he, a hand-shaker and therefore untouchable?’
‘You know me better than that.’
‘What are you worried about then? That he might make a complaint or sue for damage to his precious reputation? Let him! Daniel’s safety is what’s important here, not some egomaniac here-today-gone-tomorrow fucking entrepreneur who thinks he’s God’s gift. He’s a good-looking nowt with a chip on his shoulder the size of the Baltic Flour Mill.’
‘Did it occur to you that he might be innocent, that he’s deflecting his anger on to us because he can’t cope with the responsibility for what’s happened? If your stepson was missing, what state would you be in?’
‘We’re not talking about me – and he wouldn’t have gone missing because I wouldn’t have been late.’
‘He wasn’t late, Justine was. Frankie, stop! You’re going overboard here. You must bear in mind that this is a borderline case, only being handled by us at your insistence. It would be different if a kid had been lifted from a pram.’
‘You said that already.’
‘And I’ll say it again until you start listening. It’s great that you have an inbuilt early warning system in the case of missing children – I love that, I do – but
there are other considerations here.’
‘Such as?’
‘What will it do to Alex Parker if we cart her husband off in handcuffs?’
‘She’d be better off without him.’
‘I agree with you. I’m only making the point that she’s been through enough already. And don’t question me. I’ve made my play and you’ll have to live with it.’
‘What is wrong with you, David? He went AWOL for almost an hour and he’s unable or unwilling to explain why. Without an intense sit down, shut the door cognitive interview, we’ll never get at the truth. We need him in the station, sweating like a bastard, with a damn sight more to lose than his reputation. We need to establish exactly where he went or we’re not going to be able to pin him down.’
‘Are you finished?’
‘Not even close.’
‘People tell lies for all sorts of reasons, Frank. You’ve been in the job long enough to know that. Show some finesse, why don’t you? You said earlier that you thought he was having an affair with the au pair.’
‘I’d put money on it. I saw the looks between them.’
‘OK, then maybe he broke it off with her while Alex was in Majorca. She was royally pissed off on that call. Maybe her beef with him was more than the fact that he’d sent her on a wild goose chase. If she’d been dumped, she could’ve been giving him a hard time over it. Maybe he stopped on the way home for a beer, rather than face going home for an ear-bashing. I could do with a drink myself.’
Frankie pulled a face at his sarky remark. ‘OK, give me one good reason why he would send her a DM, then delete it from his phone and lie about it – because that’s exactly what he’s done, in my opinion. Assuming my opinion counts for anything.’
‘Of course it does! If you’re right about them, maybe he was getting rid of incriminating evidence of an affair before his wife got home, deleting all Justine’s messages from his phone, rather than a particular DM, unaware that it would come back and haunt him.’ Stone glanced at her. ‘Surely that makes sense, even to you.’
Frankie looked away – and he knew he’d finally managed to persuade her.
16
Tim Parker was ill at ease. DI Stone he could cope with. DS Oliver was a different animal altogether: wild, wilful, unafraid to say her piece, the kind of police officer you should never cross. Shame. If he were being honest, she was also his type: petite, brunette, able to hold an intelligent conversation, locking on to her target as he would in a business meeting, keen to get the upper hand. She wasn’t exactly hot, but she had obvious potential, nothing a trip to a spa and a good hairdresser couldn’t fix. Had they met in any other circumstance they might have hit it off. He’d like to think he’d have impressed her too, except the enigmatic cop had her sights on him for other reasons. Well, she wasn’t the only one with a grouse . . .
Or a game plan . . .
Tim had done his homework. He’d scanned the Internet and found various documents dealing with the police’s response to missing persons, management protocols for the recording of information, a continuum of risk from zero to high, the latter requiring immediate deployment. Daniel – while not in the lowest category by any means – wouldn’t fall into the bracket of the most vulnerable. Stone would undoubtedly have carried out an initial risk assessment and appeared to be taking his stepson’s abduction seriously, offering family support, but how hard was he really looking? As for that bitch Oliver: her radar was way off if it was pointing at him. Of the two, it was her Tim was most wary of. If she’d had her way, he’d be in the cells right now. The difficulty he faced was how to influence the investigation when he was caught in the middle of it.
It was time to use his contacts.
He’d no sooner taken his mobile from his pocket to do that when the sound of a key turning the lock caught his attention. Justine was letting herself in. He’d been waiting for her, keen to quiz her about her police interview. It was obvious that she’d been crying. As their eyes met across the hallway, her expression took his breath away: pure, unadulterated hatred was the only way to describe it. Tim swore under his breath. The last thing he wanted was another fight, another scene. He was about to go to her when Alex arrived from Daniel’s room. She’d heard the front door closing and had come to investigate.
‘Thank God!’ she said. ‘Justine, where have you been?’
‘At the police station.’ A flash of guilt crossed the au pair’s face.
Tim was immediately on his guard.
‘I was worried about you,’ Alex said. ‘The detectives have been and gone already, though why they had to drag you to the station makes no sense to me. They could have interviewed you here.’
‘They had their reasons,’ Justine said.
Tim steeled himself for the bombshell that would follow. It didn’t come. Alex hadn’t picked up on Justine’s comment. All she seemed interested in was her painkillers. Tim relaxed as their au pair searched her bag and handed over a small package.
‘I’ll make you a drink,’ she said to Alex.
The two women moved into the kitchen, Tim following to keep an eye on Justine and gauge her mood. Her eyes flitted nervously between her two employers as she brought a glass of water to the island in the centre of the room where Alex had parked herself on a high stool. Justine was clearly unhappy, on the edge of something. Tim had an idea what it was and that it spelled trouble.
Alex had noticed too, and was gearing up to interrogate her. ‘Justine, what’s wrong?’
‘Ask your husband.’
Alex almost choked on the tablet she’d swallowed, confused by the sudden formality. Justine had been on first-name terms with the family from day one. She was avoiding eye contact. Tim was suddenly fascinated with the garden. ‘For God’s sake! Will one of you please tell me what’s going on?’
Justine glanced at Tim. ‘Are you going to tell her, or will I?’
Alex shifted her attention to her husband. ‘Tell me what?’
Tim’s mouth dried up. His world was about to change in ways he could only imagine. Knowing what was coming was like watching a car crash about to happen and being powerless to stop it. As a rule, he’d have had a plan B, but for once in his life he hadn’t a clue how to handle the situation. Things had moved so fast since last night. There had been no time to formulate a proper response. Oliver was right. Didn’t matter how he put it, whatever he said would make him look guilty.
‘The reason I didn’t pick Daniel up was because Tim sent me a message to say that he’d do it,’ Justine said. ‘He denied this to police, even though I have proof of it on my phone. They questioned me about it this morning. It was awful, Alex. I felt like a criminal.’
Tim lost his bottle as his wife glared at him and then focused her attention on the au pair. ‘Justine, I don’t understand. Why on earth would Tim send a message and then deny sending it when it could so easily be proved that he had?’
‘I don’t know.’ Justine looked like she was about to cry. ‘All I care about, the only thing I care about is your son and that you know it wasn’t my fault that he went missing. I love Daniel. I’d never do anything to harm him. Alex, please . . . tell me you believe me—’
‘I do!’ Alex turned on her husband. ‘Tim?’
Alex and Justine were waiting for an explanation.
Tim had none to give. He’d already gone through it with Oliver – and nothing bad had come of it – but he wasn’t looking forward to round two with his wife and their au pair. This was so unfair. He was every bit as driven to find Daniel as the police – more so. ‘I didn’t send the message, Alex.’
Justine flew into a rage, yelling like a woman possessed. There was no way he was shifting the blame for Daniel’s disappearance. She’d get a lawyer if she had to. Her reputation was at stake. The slightest hint of any impropriety and she’d be out on her ear, her CV worthless, her career prospects re
ndered null and void. ‘Alex, I’d give all that up to find Daniel—’
‘And you think I wouldn’t?’ Tim’s voice was harder than before. ‘I’m as clueless as the police seem to be – I. Did. Not. Send. That. Message. I swear to you.’
Justine’s expression screamed: Liar! She accessed her phone in seconds and showed Alex the DM to prove her point.
Alex kept her cool in a way that scared her husband. ‘It’s right here, Tim. I’m calling DI Stone—’
‘No, Alex. I told him the same thing, I promise you.’
‘Tell me now or I make the call.’
‘This is crazy. You can’t be serious!’
She looked right through him, then pulled out her phone.
‘OK, OK, I wasn’t entirely honest with Stone . . . I deleted the message.’ White noise filled his head as Alex and Justine tried to make sense of what he’d said. Their faces wore the same expression, a mixture of horror and doubt, a million questions on their lips. He knew it made no sense and was already regretting his decision to come clean.
17
In Ponteland, Stone turned right into Callerton Lane. A little further on, on the left-hand side, the car passed a sign: Ponteland Middle School and Ponteland United. A green strip underneath proclaimed: Premier League and The FA Facilities Fund. Behind it, there was an advertising board for a children’s nursery: Henry’s Hut.
Stone parked up and got out.
Frankie followed, trying to forget their row in the car. She didn’t have time to dwell on that or the fact that Parker had dodged an arrest, despite her best efforts. She stood for a while, the warm sun on her back, surveying the windows of the houses opposite. They had a good view of the front entrance but, at Stone’s insistence, house-to-house enquiries were being conducted further down the road.
‘It’s as well we came in daylight,’ Frankie said, pointing across the road. ‘Whoever picked Daniel up is too savvy to have done it in full view of that lot. The FA facility behind us caters for juniors up to nine years old. Did I mention that McCall’s training is nowt to do with them?’ She didn’t wait for a reply. ‘His son used to go to the school. He got involved in extracurricular activities, like a lot of parents do, and never gave up. Despite what Parker may think of him, and my assessment that McCall is a terrible witness, his work is voluntary and the kids love him, Daniel included. Training for the older kids takes place on yon side of the school.’ She thumbed over her shoulder. ‘That way.’