The Dead Of Winter

by Billy McLaughlin

  Irving smiled sadly. He had come to like this feisty but vulnerable woman who he had spent the last while comforting. It hadn’t been his job to like her but it had helped make the shift a little easier.

  “Maybe you’re right though,” she conceded. “Samantha misses her dad and her little brother. Maybe she is unsettled. I never really thought about it until now. It’s not right to take a child away from the people she loves, is it?” She sounded regretful, like she had just realised that she’d made a terrible mistake.

  Was Mary conceding that she now believed her daughter had taken Archie, Irving wondered? It was a sudden change in attitude. Then something else twigged. “You have another child?” Irving tried to flatten the intensity of his surprise, but he was aware that he hadn’t quite managed it.

  “Oh, hell no. Two girls were enough. I’d have gone crazy if I’d had three.” She almost laughed between words. “My ex-husband, who was a cheating, lying bastard by the way, got himself a new wife and a matching baby. Not that I mind the baby. He’s cute. Well as cute as a baby can be when it has a mother who looks like a chimp.”

  It was Irving who laughed now. Why did he feel so damn guilty about being here and about mithering in the pit of this poor woman’s life as it came crashing to the ground? “You know Mary, we’re not always right.” He paused for a second. Then he corrected himself. “I don’t mean men. I mean police officers. You’re her mother and know her better than anybody. Maybe this has all been a horrible mistake. Any minute now Samantha will walk through the door and Archie will be fine.”

  Mary wasn’t so sure. She and Irving had done a full circle on the reality loop and she now feared that what they’d said about Samantha might be true. If she had known what Irving and Wallace now knew she could have rested a little easier. Instead, she slipped into a 20-minute nap with the terror that her daughter might never return home and that if she did, she would probably be going to prison.

  FIFTEEN

  Morning came too slowly and everything seemed to move at the pace of a slug. Casey had caught her parents, Bob and Rosie, chatting to Carla as she gripped the bannister at the bottom of the stairs. They all descended into silence as she walked into the dining room.

  “Morning love,” her mother said with a forced cheer that made Casey feel quite sick. Rosie Miller got up from the chair, just as the toaster popped, and rushed to the kitchen. “You want cereal or toast?”

  Casey didn’t feel much like eating or drinking anything. She simply wanted to curl up under her bed and wait for the world to stop. She wanted off for a little while. There was no chance of peace in this house. Not whilst everybody was home anyway.

  “How are you feeling?” Carla didn’t even pretend that she hadn’t been discussing Casey’s mood. She shifted in her chair and stared at her younger sister and then, when Casey didn't respond, exchanged an ‘I-told-you-so’ glance with their father.

  “Here you go.” Rosie returned and slammed the plate onto the table. She was just in time for the strained glances that were flying around the table. It made her feel quite uneasy. She tucked a floating strand of grey hair behind her ear and tried to pretend that there wasn’t anything awkward going on. That was Rosie’s go-to place whenever things got stressful. It irritated the life out of Carla.

  Carla tusked and scowled at her parents. “For goodness' sake. Is nobody else going to mention the elephant in the room? There’s something not right with you Casey. What the hell is going on?”

  Casey’s faced reddened in anger and she felt relief that she hadn’t shared anything with her sister. So much for having her back. The minute she had turned away, Carla had put a knife in it. Or so it felt. Not that she had told Carla anything that should make her feel betrayed in the first place. “I’m not going to school today Mum,” she knew the easy target when she saw it, “I’ve got stomach cramp.”

  “That old one.” Carla again, shamelessly goading her sister into revealing whatever had made her look quite so ill.

  “Carla, enough!” Bob rarely came between the three women in his house because life was much more peaceful when he just let it ride. It was probably why he and Rosie had such a good marriage. They rarely fought, and they rarely picked sides with the girls. It had also helped that there had been ten years between them. As he looked across the table, he could see how uncomfortable his daughter was. He also didn’t remember a time when Casey had ever lied to him. He had no reason to suspect that she was being anything other than truthful now.

  “That’s fine, sweetheart,” interjected Rosie. “You get yourself up to bed and I’ll bring you some tea up before I go to work. Carla will be home today anyway, so she’ll check in with you later. Won’t you Carla?” It wasn’t a request.

  “Okay,” Casey mumbled and headed back towards her bedroom. As she did, she could hear her sister’s disgruntled voice. Carla rarely ever spoke out about Casey and was more often supportive than critical. However, she wasn’t convinced by Casey’s stomach cramp and sensed that there was something deeper going on. Casey suspected that, by hook or by crook, Carla would have prized the truth from her by the end of the day. When that happened, Casey suspected that things were going to get a lot worse.

  SIXTEEN

  Ida had decided to walk home to clear her head. She hadn’t been able to get Greg out of her mind. Her tired brain wound back the clock to a time where he and his mother, had just moved to Golf Road. He couldn’t have been more than six years old. He was a gangly boy with long skinny legs and a mass of dark hair that, in her opinion, was longer than a boy’s hair ought to be.

  She remembered that Moira was a little too fond of male company and that sometimes resulted in Greg being cast aside. The type of men she attracted were not interested in playing dad to a child with obvious difficulties. She had also witnessed Moira turning violent occasionally. She had wrestled with herself about calling social services. In the end, Ida had simply offered a hand of friendship to the child. He spent more and more time at her house and that seemed to suit Moira just fine.

  Things in the Burns house got steadily worse. Greg’s mother drank too much. Greg acted out more. He was caught stealing food from bins in the neighbourhood at ten years old. The neighbours were disgusted by this filthy looking child who raided through their rubbish for half-eaten nibbles. Ida hadn’t been disgusted at Greg. She had been disgusted by the neighbours who couldn’t see this little family were in trouble.

  She walked into Golf Road and pushed the ugly memory of Greg’s past out of her mind. Right now, after her fourth night-shift, she was keen to climb under the warm duvet and shut the world out. As she stared along the road, though, she saw the police presence outside the Wilson house. What now? What could have happened at this early hour in the morning? Ida carried on walking until she reached her own house approximately five doors away. She was still staring at the police cars when Rosie Miller came into view.

  “Morning Ida. Terrible what’s happened, eh?”

  Ida still didn’t know what had happened. She nodded her head. “Nothing bad, I hope.”

  “You haven’t heard?” Rosie asked, almost gleeful to be delivering this morning’s headline news. “Little Archie Wilson was taken from his bed last night.”

  Ida frowned. “You mean kidnapped?”

  Rosie leaned towards her. “That’s what everybody’s saying. You won’t believe it though. They think it’s that girl that moved into the Burns’ old house. She’s also missing. Joanne looked fit to kill Mary last night. Had to be dragged back into the house kicking and screaming.”

  Ida cupped her hand around her cold chin. “That is terrible. I hope they both get found soon.”

  Rosie’s face twisted slightly. “The baby for sure. That girl? I don’t know if she will want to be found after this. People don’t like baby snatchers. If she’s got any sense, she’ll dump Archie at a hospital door and run for the rest of her life.”

  SEVENTEEN

  Carla had decided to give it one last
go. She was determined to get through to Casey. There was no way she was in this state from a simple stomach cramp. She knocked on the door and poked her head around the edge.

  Casey rolled her eyes and let out the loudest sigh she could muster the energy for. “Come in,” she muttered with a look of dismay upon her face. “You will anyway.”

  “Look, I don’t really know what’s going on, but can we stop sniping at each other Casey? I don’t want to fight with you.” Carla wasn’t as brisk as she had been in the kitchen. She genuinely sounded like she might want to make amends.

  “Well can you stop gossiping about me with mum and dad? That was really hurtful what you did. How many times over the years did I keep your secrets? How many times did I catch you climbing in and out the window and not say anything? Or when you took money from dad’s wallet and I caught you.” It was the first time Casey had fought back, but Carla had really annoyed her when she overheard her in the kitchen.

  “It’s a little different, Casey. I’m not looking to get you in trouble. I’m looking to get you out of whatever trouble you are in.” She smiled softly as the doorbell rang.

  Casey didn’t want to fight with her, so she lay back on her pillow and stared at the ceiling. Then, defeated, she shook her head and began to speak. “If I tell you, you have to promise you won’t tell anybody. If mum and dad find out, I’ll be for it.” She cracked her knuckle and continued. “That’ll be the least of my problems though. If anybody else finds out, I’ll be in even bigger trouble.”

  “What the hell have you done?” Carla’s eyes tightened and she moved closer to Casey until they were only inches apart. “Has it got something to do with Shannon?”

  Casey’s head snapped up and the frightened expression on her face told Carla everything she needed to know.

  At that very moment the bedroom door opened and she heard somebody speak behind her. “Are you ready for school, Case?”

  Carla rose from the edge of the bed and spun on her heels. “You?” She stared at Shannon, who lingered carelessly in the door. Carla’s voice lowered to a raspy whisper as she walked towards her sister’s friend. “What the hell have you done?”

  EIGHTEEN

  It didn’t make any sense to Ida as she went into the house. She had known Mary Bradley from back in the day and had been the first to welcome her back to the neighbourhood. She seemed to be a good mother and her girls were polite and respectful. Not like some of the cheeky upstarts that lived on the street. What possible reason could Samantha have for taking that baby? Ida had seen her the night before when she was leaving for work. The girl did seem a little pre-occupied, but nothing out of the ordinary.

  She was still thinking about Samantha when the doorbell rang. Couldn’t a woman even go to her bed after a long night shift, she asked herself? She threw the door open and saw PC Allan Irving. She remembered him well.

  “Mrs Webster, do you mind if I come in and have a word?”

  Ida nodded her head and saw the young officer lift his badge to identify himself. “Come on in. I’m just in from a night shift, so you’ll have to ignore my droopy eyes. As you’ll probably remember, the rest of me always looks like this, so that I won’t apologise for.”

  He smiled and followed her into her lounge. He watched politely and waited for her to slump onto the couch. “Mrs Webster, what time did you start work at last night?”

  She didn’t even have to think about her answer. “Same time as always. Ten o’clock. I leave here about nine because I like to get in to work early enough that I can read the paper for a few minutes and have a coffee. Coffee is the love of my life when I have to get through those night shifts. I’m sure you’ll appreciate what I’m saying. You look like you could use one yourself.”

  “I’d kill for one.” Actually he would have killed for a cat nap, but he wouldn’t mention that to Mrs Webster.

  “Come on through, I could use one myself.”

  Irving followed Ida into the kitchen and watched her clatter around her utensils and the kettle. It was a revelation because he spent most of his mornings trying to avoid waking his wife up. This was a welcome riot.

  “I saw her you know,” she announced and gestured for Irving to pull up a chair.

  “Who?”

  She looked at him coyly. “Samantha Bradley. That’s who they’re all fitting up for this, isn’t it?”

  Irving suddenly had a recollection that she wasn’t entirely fond of some of her neighbours. She had been all too vocal about that the last time he had dealings with her. “How do you know they’re trying to fit her up?”

  “Instinct. I don’t know the girl too well, but I was friends with her grandmother a thousand years ago. They’re a nice family. Decent and honest. Not like some I could mention. I couldn’t say whether she took the baby or not, but she certainly didn’t have him at nine o’clock last night. Sugar?” She reached for the canister and noticed it was nearly empty. She scraped the spoon around the edge so that she could muster up a couple of spoonful’s.

  Irving was too polite to take the last of her sugar rush. “You’re okay, I’ll have it without.”

  “You’ll remember they behaved this same way when Moira Burns was murdered. Not that I have any love loss for her, but any young woman being murdered like that is tragic. Not to mention leaving a disabled son behind. My son has asthma. The nights I spent worrying about him having an attack, so I can only imagine the worry a mother must have when she thinks about leaving behind a kid with Greg’s needs. The way this lot round here treated him was despicable. They virtually drove him out of that house.”

  Irving jumped on the mention of Greg as soon as it came up. “Where is he now? Greg Burns?”

  Ida lowered herself into the chair beside him and slammed the mugs onto the table. “Strangely enough, I did run into him last night. I have no idea where he’s living now though. Let’s just say he was in a hurry to get away.”

  “How so?” Irving blew into the hot mug and waited for a response.

  “I don’t know. He just didn’t seem keen to talk, but then he was never the most talkative. Not to other people anyway. I have heard on the grapevine that he hangs about his old house though. I must warn Mary about that.”

  Irving suspected that Ida was an oracle on Greg. “So you think he’s dangerous?”

  Her head snapped round so quickly he thought it might snap off her neck. “No, I do not. He’s anything but dangerous. He’s the sweetest boy I’ve ever met. The neglect he has endured should be criminal. By his mother and by everybody else around here. I just mean I will warn Mary so that she knows to keep an eye out on him and not to be alarmed if she sees him lurking.” Her voice had risen as she spoke giving the impression that he had angered her. She smiled apologetically though and the softness returned to her face.

  “Her youngest daughter claims that somebody was standing at the back of their house the first few nights that they moved in. Do you think that could have been Greg?” He reached into his pocket as she looked pensively into the steam.

  “Could have been. As I said, he wouldn’t do anybody any harm. He probably just wants to feel close to his mother. Despite how she treated him, he adored that woman. That’s what makes it so sickening that she could have thrown him aside for a man. Still, she paid the ultimate price, poor girl.”

  Irving placed the photo onto the table. He knew he shouldn’t have been showing it, but he wanted Ida’s thoughts. “Does this look like Greg to you?”

  “Where did you get this? It looks recent.” She recalled that he had a full beard when she met him at the supermarket. It aged him and it made him look more severe. It didn’t help when people already held such negative thoughts about him. Still, she sensed he would be long past caring about other people’s opinions. They hadn’t done him any good thus far.

  “It was taken yesterday. It shows him standing around the Wilson house. It doesn’t look good for him, I’m afraid.”

  This triggered something else that Ida had fou
nd strange. “I agree. It doesn’t. You know, there’s something else that I should have noticed. I didn’t know to look for it, right enough. It’s only now I know about little Archie that it has occurred to me.” Her eyes widened.

  “What is it, Mrs Webster?” When she didn’t speak immediately, he probed some more. “If you know something, you need to tell us.”

  Ida ran her finger across her lip. “I will tell you but you have to promise to tread carefully. I’ll be furious if that boy is hurt. I’ll make an official complaint.” There was no mistaking the grave warning look she drew him.

  Irving held his hands up. “You have my word that I will not let anybody hurt him, but if he has taken those kids, we need to get them back as soon as possible.”

  NINETEEN

  Bob stared across the table and waited for his daughter to speak. His wife had left for work a while ago and he was about to follow suit. However, he had been stunned to see Carla march the two girls into the kitchen and demand that he stayed to hear what they had to say.

  “Well, go on Shannon. You’re never usually stuck for words,” Carla hissed furiously and swallowed the urge to grab the red headed girl by the roots of her hair. She didn’t think she’d ever felt this angry before.

  Shannon’s face twisted as her eyes met with Carla’s. She looked sorry for herself but she certainly didn’t appear remorseful. She only heightened the impression that she didn’t give a damn when she shrugged her shoulders and looked back at Bob.

  “Casey, have you got something you want to tell me?” He arched his eyebrows and waited for his younger daughter to speak. He saw tears form in Casey’s eyes. “What the hell is going on here?”