Greg was still cradling the screaming baby when Wallace threw open the door on the driving side and grabbed Greg.
“You could have fucking killed that baby. What is the matter with you?”
Irving was checking on the biker who was now rising to his feet. When he looked back and saw Wallace descend upon the truck, he ran towards him. “Steady.” The last thing they needed was a claim of police brutality. Especially with two witnesses.
Wallace handed the baby to Irving and pulled Greg out of the truck. He didn’t care that the man looked terrified, or that he was trembling as he was forced to the ground.
Greg tried to pull his hands to his face and shake away the memory of the last time this happened. He recalled being dragged away for the murder of his mother. He felt his arms being snapped back behind his back. The metal of the handcuffs felt just as cold as the snowflakes on the ground. “I didn’t do anything.”
“Then why did you drive away?” Wallace tried to pull him to his feet but found that he was every bit as heavy as he looked.
“You scared me. I saw that policeman and remembered him. I didn’t want arrested again.” He nudged his head towards Irving who was trying, in vain, to settle Archie.
“Give me a break.” Wallace continued by reading him his rights, pushed him towards his car and tried to bury his irritation. How could a grown man sound so much like a child? There was something unnatural about it. When he had pushed Greg into his car, without any regard for him hitting his head, he slammed the door and lurched towards Irving. “You’re a natural.”
The baby was beginning to settle. “Well, one of us has to be,” he said without a hint of sarcasm.
“Meaning?” Wallace was becoming tired of Irving’s innuendo and cracked barbs.
“Meaning that you could have been a little gentler. He’s a severely learning disabled man who is probably profoundly traumatised. I think the rough treatment could be saved for somebody more appropriate.”
Wallace shrugged his shoulders. “He took somebody’s kid. Where he’s going, he’ll be lucky to get off that lightly.”
Irving looked at Wallace in disgust. “Ease off. He’s only a kid himself.”
Wallace looked contemptuously at the officer. “You do your job and let me do mine. Call it in and get the baby to hospital.”
TWENTY-SEVEN
Joanne almost screamed when the news came through. Her son had been found and taken to hospital. She didn’t know whether to hug everybody in the room or break down for the hundredth time. All she did know was that she wasn’t following Myra’s instruction to hang around and wait for more news. She was going to Archie right now.
“I’ll come with you,” offered Dan softly.
Joanne’s face contorted. Her good spirit didn’t go that far. She lifted her hand and pushed it towards him. “No, you don’t. I don’t want you anywhere near me. Or my son.” She scowled at Myra. “I’m going there with or without your help. I want to see my son.”
Myra could see the gritty determination on Joanne’s face. She stood back. “I’m not going to stop you.”
Joanne grabbed her bag which still contained her perfume and a lipstick from the night before. She then reached for the same jacket she had worn. She flounced towards the hallway before cocking her head at Myra. “Well you can either drive me or arrest me for dangerous driving because I’m in no fit state to get behind a wheel.”
Myra took the cue and followed the young woman out of the house and into the cold afternoon air. It had been a long night so the light wind was welcome as it wafted around her face. She followed Joanne down the stairs towards the pavement.
Joanne looked up at the house next door and saw that Mary Bradley was still searching the street for sight of her daughter. It reminded her of something that she had forgotten for a mere second. “I’m guessing that they’ve arrested that little bitch?” She drew her eyes way from Mary and lowered herself into the car.
“No, she’s still out there in that weather. Probably freezing half to death, the poor girl.” She regretted saying it as soon as she realised what had tumbled out of her mouth and was grateful Joanne didn’t bite her head off.
Joanne simply pursed her lips and looked back at Mary again. “I hope she dies in it.” The words were so tinged with bitterness that they lingered in the air long after both women had gotten into Myra’s beaten up run-around.
Myra didn’t turn on the ignition right away. “Joanne. I have to tell you something. They didn’t find Archie with Samantha Bradley. They’ve arrested a young man who used to live on this street.” She turned to look directly at her passenger and waited on a reaction.
Joanne couldn’t say how she felt at that exact moment and she stared back at the desolate looking woman who was framed inside the brown wooden windows of the house next door. Then her expression tightened with confusion. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying that they’ve arrested the kidnapper. He was seen hanging around your house earlier in the evening. We’re no longer considering Samantha Bradley to be a suspect. In fact, we’re now shifting resources to find her as she is considered a vulnerable missing person.” Myra could see that Joanne was trying to digest what she was saying. “Do you understand what I’m telling you.”
Joanne nodded and then looked back at Mary, who looked as if she had been frozen in time and managed to pluck the first bout of empathy that she had managed for her. She had been so busy hating Samantha that she hadn’t given Mary’s feelings a second thought. She began to whimper as the car pulled away from the kerb. She tried to justify this new pang of guilt with the knowledge that she hadn’t accused Samantha. She could only take what she had heard at face value. It was the police who had leaked Samantha’s name. As the car pulled out of her street her thoughts returned to Archie. She had only been separated from him for one night and yet it had felt like eternity. Thoughts of the Bradleys quickly crumbled and she found herself thinking of only one thing.
“If it wasn’t Samantha who took my son, then who was it?” The question lingered between them for a few seconds.
“Somebody I think you might know, actually. His name is Greg Burns.”
Joanne gasped and let the words digest. It wasn’t a name she expected to hear again in her life. To know that he had gotten so close to her family that he’d been able to steal her child caused her to lurch forward and vomit all over Myra’s car floor.
TWENTY-EIGHT
Mary had suspected all morning that the police weren’t interested in her daughter. After all, Samantha was being accused of the most awful crime. To walk in and snatch somebody’s baby was the most unthinkable thing. She still couldn’t equate it with the lovely daughter she was raising.
It hadn’t been long since PC Irving had called her and told her to sit tight as they had a lead. Then she saw Joanne being driven away by a plain clothed officer. The minutes never seemed to end. She only wanted to know that Samantha was safe and that she hadn’t hurt Archie. She picked up the phone and dialled PC Irving’s mobile number. When he didn’t answer, she decided that she would go straight to the police station herself. Samantha was a minor. They couldn’t just interview her without Mary’s permission.
“Lizzie, grab your coat.” She called up the stairs and waited for her youngest to respond.
Lizzie was a good kid. She rarely asked questions. Samantha would have asked why and where they were headed to. Not Lizzie though. She sprung down the 21 steps from her bedroom as if she hadn’t known that something awful had taken place and buttoned her jacket.
“If they won’t come to us, we’re going to them.”
Lizzie nodded and followed her mother to the front door.
Just as Mary twisted the door knob she threw open the door and let out a scream that frightened herself, Lizzie and PC Irving.
“I’m sorry. I was just about to ring your doorbell.”
Mary would have laughed if she didn’t feel like wringing his neck.
“C
an I come in?” He wore a sombre expression that told Mary he wasn’t bringing her daughter back to her. Bad news seldom smiled.
“Yes. You’ve found her? Is she at the police station? What did she say?” The desperate words tumbled out of her mouth. She didn’t know if she would hug or strangle Samantha when they finally allowed her to see her. Allowed? She never thought she’d reach the day where she had to ask somebody’s permission to see her girls.
“Hang fire Mary. Calm down. We’ve not picked Samantha up.”
“I saw Joanne Wilson being taken away this morning. They’ve found Archie though?” Mary had gone through every scenario in her mind and Samantha never came out well from any of them. Now she imagined Samantha fleeing in terror when the police arrived and found Archie. It made the sphere of anxiety grow in the pit of her stomach.
“Yes, they’ve found Archie,” he said as he walked through to her lounge. “Unfortunately, we haven’t located Samantha yet.”
Mary dropped onto the edge of the sofa and rested her hand on her chest. She knew there was more. “Tell me.” Her hands were shaking so violently that she had to use one to hold the other down.
“They’ve arrested a man for Archie’s abduction. I can’t say who at this point, but he is local and has connections with some of the people on the street. We’ve searched his house and there is no evidence that Samantha was there. We’re treating it as purely coincidental that Samantha has gone missing at the same time. So, I need to speak to you now. I need you to be frank and honest. Is Samantha having problems?”
Mary had thought about it over and over and she still couldn’t find any reason for Samantha to have run away. She took all the tension and worry that she had been nursing for the past twelve hours and let it all out in one large unyielding breath. It didn’t take long for her anger to boil. She had been told very little but what she did know was that her daughter’s name had been banded around as main suspect before anybody had established any solid proof. Mary wanted to scream. To ram the yellow button down his throat and tell him to do his job. Yet, she knew that was exactly what he was doing now. “Nothing out of the ordinary,” she retorted. “Just the usual teenage nonsense.” She had tried and failed to conceal the hostility in her voice.
As if reading her mind, PC Irving answered her thoughts. “I’m so sorry Mary. You’ve been through hell these last hours even though the evidence that Samantha was involved was flimsy at best. I’m sure you’ve got questions about that, but the main thing now is that we want to find Samantha and bring her home safely.”
Mary relented and agreed. Right now, she wasn’t interested in post mortems about the due diligence that hadn’t been applied. She wanted her girl back. She would address the incompetence later. “So, what do we do?”
“Have you spoken to your ex-husband?”
Mary shook her head. She had been too frightened to call him. He would go wild when he discovered what they had accused Samantha of. He would blame Mary. A huge row would erupt and Lizzie would be caught in the crossfire. Before she made that sacrifice, Mary wanted to be sure of what she was saying before giving him the leverage to bury her at their next inevitable custody case.
“I think it’s time to make that call, don’t you?” PC Irving handed her the mobile phone that was sitting on the glass table.
Mary felt herself shiver as she searched through her numbers. The trepidation became almost unbearable as she heard the ringer spring to life. She had tried to remain calm until now. It was all she could do to hold everything together. However, as soon as she heard his voice, Mary allowed the events of the last day to crumble down on top of her and she erupted into full-blown hysteria.
TWENTY-NINE
Dan didn’t have time to take Bob Miller’s call. So, rather than let the man speak in that slow measured way that he often did, Dan cut him off by telling him that they’d found Archie and that the kidnapper was now in custody. If he’d stayed on the phone a moment longer he might have learned that Paul Gilfeather was on the warpath. Instead, he disconnected the call and rushed through the doors of A&E. He wasn’t going to let his wife go through all of this on her own. She didn’t want to see him right now, but once she saw her baby, she might change her mind. Maybe she would need him then. He saw his own tired reflection in the lift mirror. It was a sorry sight. He could probably sleep for a hundred hours but not until he knew his wife and baby were okay.
#
Joanne followed the nurse to where her baby slept. He looked even smaller in the big hospital cot than he did in his own baby crib. The instant she saw his little sleeping body she threw her hands to her face and gulped.
“The doctor will be in to see you in a moment.” A nurse with a soft Irish lilt whispered in her ear.
Joanne nodded and then reached down to stroke Archie’s arm. She stared at him in the way that people stared at somebody they thought they might never see again. All the love she had ever felt for him gushed through her and she felt as if she would never let him out of her sight again.
“Mrs Wilson?” The doctor and the same nurse who had spoken to her before joined her at the cot. “How are you doing?” He must have noticed that she looked as if she had been to war and back again.
“How is he, doctor?” She wasn’t interested in herself. She only wanted to talk about her son.
The doctor, seeing how eager she was, smiled. “It’s good news luckily. Archie had a slight fever when he came in. He also has a respiratory infection which we’re treating with antibiotics.”
Archie stirred just a few moments later and let out a lively gurgle.
“So, I can take him home soon?” Joanne knew she was getting ahead of herself, but she desperately wanted to pick him up and get him back to the comfort of her arms. She wasn’t sure she’d ever let him go.
The doctor and nurse exchanged a troubled glance.
“What?” Joanne saw her husband appear in the doorway as she felt her nerve take a plunge.
“Archie will be as good as new,” the nurse paused. “I’m afraid it’s more complicated than you just taking him home. Social services are here and they want to talk to you.”
Joanne suspected as much but she didn’t see how that would affect her taking her son home now that he had been safely returned.
“Sure. I’ll speak to them now, but as soon as you say my son is safe to go home, I’ll be taking him out of here.” Joanne pushed through them and joined her husband in the hallway. “I’m glad you’re here.”
He smiled at her and reached out for her hand.
She tusked. “Not because I’ve forgiven you. But if I must listen to the sanctimonious bullshit of social services for your negligence, then it’s only right that you suffer it as well. Maybe you can explain to them how it happened seeing as you’ve given me nothing close to a satisfactory explanation.”
THIRTY
Wallace hated these old interview rooms. They were like iceboxes and had so little personality that he couldn’t imagine why somebody wouldn’t confess everything just to escape. Sitting this close to Greg Burns, a shiver went down his spine. His eyes really did look like they might harbour something evil. Yet, when he spoke he sounded like a primary school child. Wallace struggled to equate the man with the voice.
Everybody in the room introduced themselves before proceeding with the interview. Also present was Maggie Burnett who had been appointed as an appropriate adult. Wallace had met her once before. She was quite subdued, but he knew that she would speak up if there was something she didn’t like. Greg had been offered a solicitor but didn’t seem to grasp that he would need one. So, it was left to Maggie to fight his corner.
“Greg, do you know why you’re here?”
Greg looked blankly at him because he was still struggling to comprehend exactly what had taken place. “You think I stole the baby. I didn’t. His mum left him with me. She was frightened and ran away. She died. Just like my mum. I promised her I would look after him.” He had repeated the promise ov
er and over again since Wallace had picked him up. It had become frustrating. They were clearly dealing with a man who had no concept of what was real and what wasn’t.
Wallace snorted. “What’s his mother’s name?” He looked to the side and saw that Irving was throwing him one of his unamused looks.
“I don’t know.” Greg bit into his lip.
“Do you know the baby’s name?” Wallace spoke again, this time a little more softly. He could feel Irving’s eyes focus on the side of his head.
“She didn’t get a chance to tell me. I was going to pick one.”
Irving leaned forward. “What name would have chosen, Greg?”
“Simon. That’s my dad’s name.” There was something so innocent about the answers that Irving couldn’t believe he wasn’t telling the truth.
“His name’s not Simon though. It’s Archie. Did you know that?”
Greg twisted his lips and then looked away. When he turned back, he nodded his head. “I told you, his mother gave him to me to look after. It happened just before she died.”
Wallace looked perplexed. “Greg, Archie’s mother hasn’t died. She’s been at home all night. In a state, waiting for him to be found. Do you know how worried she’s been?”
If Greg understood the question, he didn’t respond. “I saw it.”
Wallace looked at Irving. “You saw what?”
“I saw his mother die. Just like my mum. She’s never coming back either.” His eyes widened slightly and he turned to Maggie for reassurance. “I made a promise, and my mum always said I should never break a promise.”
Maggie smiled at him and then focused her stare on Wallace. She had a look that told him to tread carefully.
The Dead Of Winter Page 8