Convictions

by Julie Morrigan

  ‘We’re neighbours, Tina, so that’s nice, isn’t it?’ she said, stuffing a pillow into a pillowcase. Once the bed was made, she straightened up. ‘Why don’t you come into my cell and I’ll pour us both some squash,’ she suggested. Then, when Tina hesitated, she added, ‘I’ve got some chocolate biscuits.’

  Tina nodded and smiled. ‘Yes, thanks, Jackie. I’d like that.’

  They went into Jackie’s cell and Tina took the chance to look around while Jackie busied herself getting drinks and biscuits for them. ‘You can make them quite nice, if you put a bit of work in,’ Jackie said, seeing Tina looking at the cell window. ‘A bit more cosy, like. I made my curtains at sewing class. I saved up my wages for the material.’ She pointed to the bed, on which she had placed a couple of matching scatter cushions. ‘I got a bit extra to make the cushion covers.’

  ‘It all looks really nice,’ said Tina, thinking she’d do the same just as soon as she could. Then she could close her curtains at night and hide the cell bars. Tina was studying the photographs on the wall above the bed when Jackie came over and handed her a plastic cup of orange squash.

  ‘That’s my daughter,’ she said, pointing to one. ‘That’s my son and his wife, and these ones are my grand-daughter. The first one there, that shows her when she was just born. Then I’ve got one for every year, right up to her last birthday when she was seven. She’ll be eight in a couple of months. They’ll send me another picture then.’

  ‘She’s very pretty,’ said Tina.

  ‘I put them there so that she’s the last thing I see when I go to sleep and the first thing when I wake up in the morning and open my eyes.’

  ‘Do you see her very often?’ Tina asked. ‘In visits, I mean.’

  ‘No, pet,’ said Jackie. ‘I’ve never seen her, never held her when she was a baby or had a hug or a kiss off her.’ She smiled, but Tina saw only sadness. ‘I’ve been in here since before she was born.’

  ‘Oh, Jackie, I’m so sorry.’ Tina struggled for something else to say. ‘When will you …?’ she asked.

  ‘Not for a long time,’ said Jackie. She turned away and wiped her eyes. ‘Here,’ she said to Tina when she turned back, ‘have a biscuit.’ She offered her the open packet and Tina took one.

  ‘Jackie,’ she said, slowly. ‘Can I ask what you’re in here for?’

  ‘Same as you,’ said Jackie, taking a biscuit from the packet.

  ‘Oh. Did you stab someone, too?’

  ‘No, love. I got caught.’

  ***

  Karen Fitzgerald was sick at heart. Four weeks earlier, ten-year-old Amy Thompson had fallen out with the friend she was sleeping over with and, unknown to the girl’s parents, left the house around midnight to walk home. She had never arrived. No one had seen her since, although her parents had received a letter saying they didn’t deserve her and she was going to be with God.

  That Friday night, Karen and Ruth Crinson were sharing a bottle of wine in a bar in town. ‘I’m getting nowhere looking for Amy,’ Karen told Ruth. ‘Every lead is a dead end. I even dug out the Snowdon and Addams case files and went through everything in them again, in case we’d missed something.’

  Ruth sipped at her wine. ‘Have you found anything?’

  Karen shook her head slowly, drew the number ‘six’ in the condensation on her glass. ‘But I can’t shake the feeling that there’s something. I even wonder if the kids might be alive somewhere.’

  ‘Somewhere abroad, do you mean? It’s possible, I suppose.’

  ‘No, I think they’re here. Somewhere in Sunderland.’

  ‘Someone would have said something by now if they were. You can’t keep secrets like that in a city like this.’

  ‘Normally I’d agree with you. But this whole situation is peculiar, don’t you think? Take the Snowdon case; after all, that’s the only one we really know anything about. We know the girls were in Cotter’s car, there was even a T-shirt from the gig in there, but nothing else.’

  ‘The girls wore hats and gloves.’

  ‘True, and that wouldn’t have helped, but even so, it’s odd. And the ones we know about aren’t the only kids to have vanished without a trace. I did a search, and guess how many missing kids in the north east fit into the pattern? Six,’ she said, without waiting for Ruth to ask. ‘Six in nine years.’

  ‘It’s sickening, but it’s a fact of life that kids are vulnerable, some people see them as targets. They go to a friend’s house, to the pictures, just out for an ice-cream from the van and someone sees his opportunity.’

  ‘Yes, but we normally find them. These are kids who have vanished without a trace. They’ve been … I don’t know, spirited away somehow. There one minute, gone the next. No sign of violence, no bodies, no trace of them whatsoever. But do you know what else they all have in common?’ She ploughed on, unable to stop. ‘They each wrote a farewell letter to their parents, saying they didn’t deserve to have them and they were going to be in a better place.’

  ‘I thought we only had two letters?’

  ‘When Mr and Mrs Thompson got that letter from Amy, I got in touch with Ben Addams’s mum and dad on a hunch, and they told me that they had got a letter, too. God only knows why they hadn’t mentioned it earlier. So that tied Annie, Amy and Ben together and I started digging. There’s Rosemary Cairns from Hartlepool, Timothy Barker from Seaham and Billy Scoggins from Middlesbrough.’

  Ruth put her glass down. ‘How in hell have these not been linked before? Jesus Christ, Karen.’

  ‘Because up until last week, there was our three from Sunderland with just the two letters, and three others from out of the area. Ruth, there are at least six, but there may be more. Someone’s taking our kids and we don’t know who or why or what they’re doing with them.’

  ***

  ‘Hello, Martha.’

  Amy’s lip trembled. She knew better than to argue with the name they called her; she kept her eyes on the Bible she held.

  ‘I’ve brought you some juice.’ The man put the glass of juice down on the desk. ‘What do you say?’

  ‘Thank you,’ said Amy.

  ‘This is Rachael. She’s going to spend some time with you.’

  ‘Hello, Rachael.’

  ‘Hi, Martha. What’s the passage you’re reading? May I see?’

  The man smiled and went out again leaving the two girls to their study. It always took a little time for the saved to adjust, but Martha was doing very well.

  ***

  The connection Karen Fitzgerald had made revitalised the investigation. All six cases were now linked, and DSI Hardcastle was heading up the joint task force. The jury was still out as to whether any of the letters ought to be disclosed to the wider world, perhaps used as the basis of a further appeal by the missing children’s parents. They had all so far been kept from the press, however, and it was possible keeping the existence of the letters secret might afford some advantage: at the very least, it would help when trying to establish if information was accurate or bogus when the anticipated rash of confessions surfaced.

  ‘All six letters have certain things in common,’ Fitzgerald was telling the team. ‘First and foremost, they were all written by the children concerned, so at that point at least they were still alive.’

  ‘How soon after the kids were taken were the letters sent?’ asked Rob Winter.

  ‘Anything from five days to six weeks.’

  ‘Anything on the letters that might help find them?’

  Fitzgerald shook her head. ‘No. We assume someone else must have handled them, if for no other reason than to post them, but there’s nothing so far.’

  ‘You said they had certain things in common. What are the other things?’

  ‘The type of paper and envelopes. The letters aren’t all from the same pad, but they are from the same make of pad. It’s stationery sold by Asda, and it’s their own brand.’ She paused. ‘And there’s one other thing: tears. All the kids were crying when they wrote the letters.’


  ‘With little Annie Snowdon, we thought that the “better place” reference meant that she was going to be killed. Do we still think that?’

  ‘To be honest, we don’t know what to think. For now, we look for missing children. Let’s do our job, people, see what’s out there.’

  ***

  Later that morning, Fitzgerald took a phone call that both excited and confused her with regard to the case. She hurriedly got together with Rob Winter and Ruth Crinson.

  ‘What is it?’ Winter asked, intrigued by her agitation.

  ‘That was forensics. They’ve got what looks like a match on a partial thumb print from the letter sent by Ben Addams.’

  ‘Whose is it?’ asked Ruth.

  ‘They think Annie Snowdon’s.’

  ‘Is it possible Ben just happened to use the same notepad as Annie did years earlier?’

  ‘No, the letters are written on sheets of paper from different pads. And another thing … the print on Ben’s letter is bigger than the ones Annie left on her own letter. She was older when she handled the pad Ben used.’

  ‘Annie Snowdon is still alive?’

  Karen nodded. ‘It certainly seems possible, which augurs well for the other missing kids. We just need to find them.’

  Chapter 12

  ‘How’s it going, Tina?’ asked Ruth. ‘Are you settling in all right?’

  ‘I’m okay, thanks, Ruth. Getting there, anyway. It’s different, though, you know?’

  Ruth nodded. ‘I almost daren’t ask, but have you heard from your mum?’

  ‘I got a letter. She sent me a photograph of her and James on holiday in Tuscany. She’s renting the old house out, she didn’t sell it after all. Which isn’t great, but at least it’s still a connection to the family.’ She looked at Ruth for a while before speaking again. ‘I went out that day George Cotter was released from prison with no idea that I wouldn’t see my home again. It seems so long ago now. I suppose Mum must have packed up all my stuff, but I don’t know if she kept it or got rid of it and I’m not sure it matters. I only really want three things in life now.’

  ‘What are they?’

  ‘First, when I get out of here I want to have a long soak in the bath in my new home. Second, I want to walk on the beach on a clear day, smell the sea air and look for shells. And third …’

  ‘What, love?’

  ‘Third …’ Tina choked back tears.

  Ruth squeezed her shoulder. ‘Don’t upset yourself.’

  ‘Ruth, I want to see Annie again.’

  Ruth hesitated for just a moment, then said, ‘We’ve found some new evidence.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Don’t get your hopes up too much, but it’s possible Annie is still alive.’

  ***

  ‘Let’s pray together, Martha. Kneel with me and say His special prayer.’

  Amy knelt down beside the man.

  ‘Say it with me: Our Father …’

  Amy joined in. ‘Who art in Heaven …’

  ***

  Back at her desk, Ruth Crinson dug out Penny Balfour’s telephone number in Liverpool and picked up the handset. She hadn’t spoken to Penny since before she had remarried. She wondered if the woman had told her new husband about her daughters yet.

  ‘Hello, Penny, it’s Ruth Crinson.’

  ‘Hello, Ruth. What can I do for you?’ Penny sounded cagey.

  ‘Are you free to talk at the moment?’

  ‘As long as it doesn’t take too long.’

  ‘I’ve got news about Annie. Some new evidence has come to light,’ Ruth said. She explained about the thumb print. ‘We aren’t sure at this stage what it means, but we’re going to be talking to everyone again to see what we can find out. Perhaps someone will remember something, or if they were keeping quiet before, they may feel they no longer need to,’ she finished.

  ‘Does it mean that Annie is alive?’

  ‘We don’t know for sure, but it’s possible. Penny, have you told your husband about Annie and Tina yet?’

  ‘No,’ said Penny. ‘And I don’t intend to.’

  ‘You know, it would be easier all round if you did,’ said Ruth. ‘It’s not like there’s anything to be ashamed of.’

  ‘No, I know. I’m not ashamed, exactly, not of Annie anyway. But it’s better for me to just move on from all that. I have a new life here, a good life. James is an elder of the church. We’re respected.’

  ‘And you think somehow that Tina would make you … what? No longer respectable?’

  ‘She’s a criminal. She tried to kill someone.’

  ‘She’s an unhappy, confused girl who took the law into her own hands to try to make you proud of her.’

  ‘Yes, well, she was certainly confused. No mother could be proud of a child who was violent and murderous.’

  ‘Have you been in touch with her lately?’

  ‘I write.’

  ‘She’ll be released soon. Don’t you want to help Tina get her life back on track?’

  Penny was silent. Ruth bit her tongue and waited.

  ‘I can’t,’ she said.

  ‘Oh, Penny!’

  ‘Ruth?’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘About Annie.’

  Ruth heard Penny breathing. ‘Don’t find her if she isn’t alive. Either bring me my daughter back living and breathing, or don’t bring her back at all.’

  ***

  ‘She’s madder than ever,’ observed Karen, when Ruth told her about the call.

  ‘I don’t get that business about only finding the kid alive,’ mused Ruth. ‘Obviously we want to find Annie in one piece, but most parents want to know either way what’s happened. They want closure.’

  ‘She doesn’t want to rock the boat for a dead girl,’ said Karen. ‘She’ll take Annie alive because there’s a pay-off for being shown to have been a liar. In fact, knowing Penny, she’ll turn it to her advantage. She won’t want to be seen to have been lying if all she gets in return is a funeral to arrange.’

  ‘Either way, she’ll have to explain Tina.’

  ‘Do you know, I can’t imagine the grief of losing a child, but I’ll never forgive Penny for how she’s treated that kid. Whatever Tina has had to deal with has been made ten times worse by her mother.’

  ‘She’s riddled with guilt. Inside she’s still that frightened twelve-year old girl trying to make things right,’ said Ruth. ‘And Penny’s not out of the woods yet. One way or another, no matter how long it takes, we will find Annie, and then the details will be all over the news. Not just finding her, but the abduction, Cotter, Tina … there’s no way Penny can keep up the façade. She’s lucky she’s got away with it for so long. She will be found out and the longer it takes for the truth to come out, the worse it’ll be for her. I can’t imagine a church elder being happy that his wife lied to him for their entire relationship.’

  ‘Cotter’s an elder of his church, too. Very cosy with the pastor, by all accounts. Atkinson went to see him the other day, he said it was all fizzy drinks and sticky buns, because a few of the young people from the church had been round to clean the car and tidy the garden.’

  ‘They do seem to look after their own.’

  ‘Yes. You know, despite my better judgement, I do wonder sometimes …’

  ‘Wonder what, Karen?’

  ‘If there might be something in it. Not religion, but the community spirit some of these little churches seem to foster. The way they look out for each other, the younger ones helping the older ones, that sort of thing.’

  ‘Yeah, I know what you mean. Most of the kids you come across don’t even see anyone over twenty, even if they’re standing in front of them. Older people simply don’t exist for them. When I was a kid, I did bits of shopping or odd jobs for my nan, but you hardly ever see that now. Everyone’s so insular. Even when you have a family together in the same house, they’re all in their own little worlds. Computers, music, television …’

  ‘When I was a kid, getting sent to yo
ur room was a punishment.’

  ‘Do you think the young people of the church have televisions and computers in their rooms?’

  ‘Not if Cotter’s anything to go by. I think his telly only goes on once a week, and that’s for Songs of Praise.’ Karen rubbed her eyes. ‘I’ve got him coming in tomorrow. I want to talk to him about the Addams letter, see if there’s anything he can tell us that would help.’

  Ruth snorted. ‘Good luck with that.’

  ***

  ‘Mr Cotter. Thank you for coming in.’ Fitzgerald had her hands clasped in front of her on the table in the interview room, partly to keep them from wrapping themselves around George Cotter’s neck and squeezing until that silly little smile vanished from his face. She had never doubted his guilt, and the thought of him being free while Tina Snowdon was locked up was hard to bear.

  ‘Always happy to help the police with their enquiries.’

  Fitzgerald looked him over. She saw a small, grey man in a home-made jumper, a man with thinning hair and baggy eyes. She had to admit, he didn’t much look like the kind of man who could, never mind would, abduct children; Ben Addams had been thirteen, tall for his age and strong, when he was taken. It was a stretch to imagine Cotter overpowering a boy like that. Then again, appearances could be deceptive; Rose West looked like you could trust her to babysit.

  Besides, Fitzgerald had learned over the years to trust her instincts, and they told her Cotter was responsible in some way for what seemed to be happening. She wondered if he had a dungeon full of kids, like Joseph Fritzl. She wondered what the hell he did with them, what state Annie Snowdon would be in after all these years. She had been eight years old when she was taken; she would be seventeen now. More than half her life in captivity.

  ‘Shortly after Annie Snowdon went missing, her parents received a letter from her.’

  ‘Yes, I seem to remember being asked about it at the time.’

  ‘Well, another child went missing two years ago. Ben Addams. His parents have also received a letter, and we have found what appears to be a partial thumb print from Annie Snowdon on the paper.’