The Silent Children: A serial-killer thriller with a twist

by Carol Wyer

  His sister appears from her bedroom and slips onto the settee to watch the programme. Just as he’s beginning to get into it, the television goes off, along with the lights.

  ‘Bloody hell. The leccy’s gone off. Didn’t Mum top up the meter?’

  His sister’s voice is calm. ‘Nah. She told me she was struggling this month. Asked me if I had any money. You got any?’

  He snorts. ‘As if.’

  ‘I’m not stupid. I know what you and Johnny have been up to. I saw you both going into the toilets again with Kevin Blackford. Kevin was flipping all afternoon,’ she says.

  He’s not sure how to respond. His sister is a clever cookie and she’s streetwise. If he denies it, she’ll know he’s lying. Kevin was an idiot to take the stuff before lessons. One of the teachers could have picked up on it. Still, Kevin is a prize twit at the best of times. They probably thought he was behaving as stupidly as usual.

  He decides to come clean. ‘I ain’t doin’ it no more. Johnny got picked up by the cops today.’

  She stares into the darkness. ‘You want to watch out. He’ll drop you in it.’

  ‘No, he won’t. He wouldn’t dare.’ He leans forwards on the chair and rummages for some matches in his pocket.

  ‘Don’t you believe it. He may look big but he’s a coward at heart. That’s why he keeps you beside him. You’re like his pet human Rottweiler. If the police press him, he’ll snitch.’

  He gives up on the matches and cracks his knuckles instead. ‘He’d better be careful then.’

  She laughs. ‘Yeah, right. You give him a seeing to and you’ll be in the slammer alongside him and Dad. You can be really dumb sometimes.’

  He rubs his knuckles and glowers. Bloody electricity. Now there’s nothing to do and he can’t even go and visit Johnny. He’ll have to go to the park and join the skaters, have a few smokes. It’s boring listening to his sister.

  ‘You know, there’s a way we could both make some money,’ she says evenly.

  ‘What are you on about?’

  She continues in a voice that sounds far older than her thirteen years. ‘You and me could take over Johnny’s business. You’re good at scaring people and I’m good at convincing them. I expect whoever was selling the E to Johnny won’t want to be involved with him any more, so there’ll be an opening for us. You know who he was getting them from?’

  ‘Yeah, I know.’

  ‘You got any cash?’

  He hesitates before replying. A police car races past outside, its blue light illuminating the room and casting an eerie glow on his sister’s face for an instant. She’s a clever kid – cleverer than him. ‘A bit from the last couple of sales.’

  ‘Then we use it to buy stock,’ she says.

  He thinks about the possibilities for a while, then pulls out a cigarette and lights it, drawing on and letting the smoke fill his lungs. It isn’t a bad idea. His dreams to be a footballer took a real bashing earlier. He didn’t get picked for the local team on Saturday. He took the coach to task over it. Coach told him he was too aggressive. That was bollocks! He wasn’t any more aggressive than the others. Just because he shinned one of the opposition last time, and after the match had headbutted that twat Mark for saying he played like a girl, he’d been dropped. Well, they could stuff it. They were all wankers anyway and the team sucked. See how they got on without him.

  ‘You going to give me one of those, or what?’ she asks.

  He rattles the packet. ‘That’s the last one but you can have it.’ He tosses it to her.

  She lights up and sighs with pleasure.

  Eventually he speaks. ‘Let’s see what happens to Johnny first, and if he gets off, then we’ll approach his dealer.’

  ‘Okay, but think about it. It’s shit being poor.’

  He couldn’t agree more.

  Thirty-Eight

  DAY SIX– SUNDAY, 19 FEBRUARY, LATE AFTERNOON

  * * *

  The trip to Barton-under-Needwood proved to be frustrating and fruitless. Anna, Matt, Mitz and Robyn knocked on doors and spoke to everyone in the vicinity and beyond, but there’d been no sightings of Henry Gregson the day he’d been killed, or indeed at any time. It seemed Henry Gregson had never visited the village.

  ‘I’m done in,’ said Matt.

  ‘We’ll call it a day.’

  ‘Anyone fancy a pint before going home? I can’t face going back to nappies and mess.’ Matt looked hopefully at the others.

  ‘I’m in,’ said Anna. ‘I could do with a very large glass of wine.’

  ‘Guv, you joining us?’ Mitz asked.

  ‘Do you know, I’m going to skip it this once. I’ll buy you all a round next time. I want to take another look at Tessa’s place.’

  Matt, Mitz and Anna headed off in the squad car. Robyn, who’d used her own car to get to Barton, stood outside Tessa’s house for a few minutes. Tributes had been placed on the pavement in front of it – teddy bears, flowers and cards. She stopped to read the messages from neighbours and acquaintances and strangers, who’d been deeply saddened by the loss of a young life and wanted to demonstrate their respect in some way.

  Driving back into Yoxall, she wondered if it would be worth her while touting Henry Gregson’s photograph around the village before she called it a day. It was Sunday evening and many people were at home. What did she have to lose? Although Ella, Liam’s girlfriend, claimed she hadn’t seen him on the Tuesday he’d died, maybe one of her neighbours had.

  She tried every house along the main street with frontages overlooking the main road, but drew a blank. Nobody had seen Henry or his red Kia. She trundled further along the main street, intending to try her luck in the open-all-hours shop, and halted by the churchyard. The door to the church was open. For a second she felt an urge to go inside and sit in the calm, away from all the frustration that threatened to drag her down. She traipsed up the path and into the cool interior, her footsteps echoing on the stone church floor.

  A voice called, ‘Can I help you?’ and a corpulent shape sporting a cassock, a neatly trimmed beard and wire-framed spectacles wandered out of the shadows, a book under his arm.

  ‘How do you do? I’m Kevin,’ he said, a large hand extended. ‘The Rev Kev,’ he added and grinned, revealing a wide gap between his front teeth.

  ‘Robyn Carter. DI Robyn Carter.’

  ‘Oh, I see. And there was me hoping I’d found another lost sheep to join my happy flock, although you’ve missed evensong. I was just tidying up after it.’

  ‘I’m afraid not. I’m here on business. I’m trying to find anybody who saw this man in the area recently.’ She handed Kevin the photograph.

  He studied it and lifted a finger, tapping the picture of Henry Gregson lightly.

  ‘I think he was here. Last Tuesday. His face rang a bell. I was sure I’d met him before. He was standing in the churchyard, looking lost. I asked him if there was anything the matter and he insisted he was fine. I got the impression he wanted to chat, so I hung about with him for a while, discussing this and that. Thought I might have encouraged him to come inside, but he didn’t. Kept glancing at his mobile. Said he had to meet somebody. That’s all I can tell you. For what it’s worth, I thought he looked troubled.’

  ‘Thank you, Kevin. That’s very helpful. I might need you to confirm all this at a later date, is that okay? You didn’t happen to see the person he intended meeting?’

  ‘No. I nipped back inside and he’d disappeared when I came back out.’

  ‘Have you been the vicar here for long?’ she asked.

  ‘Three years.’

  ‘You don’t happen to know Liam Carrington and Ella Fox? They have a little girl, Astra, who might have been christened here a year or two ago.’ She described the couple, mentioning Ella’s scar.

  Rev Kev opened his arms wide. ‘I remember them now. They’re not regular churchgoers. In fact, I haven’t clapped eyes on them here since that day. However, I did christen the little girl. It was a strange ceremony b
ecause they didn’t have the usual entourage with them. Normally, everybody comes along to a christening but not in this case. There was only the child, the parents and a couple of godparents. That was all.’ He slapped his hand lightly against his forehead. ‘That’s where I’ve seen the man before. He was godfather to the little girl.’

  Robyn offered him her card in case he could think of anything else and left him to lock up. Her hunch had paid off. Henry Gregson had been in Yoxall on February fourteenth. Was he there to visit Liam Carrington? Liam had denied seeing Henry that day. She sat in her car, trying to work out what would be the best course of action. She decided to visit Liam, Ella and Astra to ask again if they’d seen Henry that day. However, when she arrived at the house, it was in complete darkness. Robyn fired up the engine and headed back to her own home.

  Thirty-Nine

  THEN

  * * *

  The boy wipes the blood gushing from his nose. The three blokes facing him mean business. There’s no way he can take them on. The biggest one, bigger even than Johnny Hounslow, stares at him intently as if trying to telepathically drill into his head. His dreadlocks are curled tightly like corkscrews waiting to spring free from his face. Eventually he speaks, a Jamaican drawl, lazy yet filled with menace.

  ‘So, you got the message yet?’

  He nods, causing waves of nausea. Dreadlock Man continues with the staring act. His henchmen wait beside him, one brandishing a flick knife that he opens and shuts repeatedly. Dreadlock speaks again. ‘Next time, it won’t be you. It’ll be your little sister and we won’t be so gentle with her.’

  He swallows. This is bad. This is worse than being picked up by the police. Knife Man keeps opening and shutting the switchblade; click, click, click. He nods again. He wants to speak but his throat is filled with gooey blood. He swallows again then coughs and has to spit it all out, retching as he does so.

  ‘I think he’s clear on the subject,’ says Dreadlock to his goons. Knife Man glares at him lying on the floor. Dreadlock gives a smile, a proper scary smile, then says, ‘Just to drive home the point…’

  Before he knows what’s happening, something whacks against his back, taking all the air out of him. Skinny Man, the tallest and leanest of the trio, has booted him hard, so hard he thinks his kidneys might have ruptured. His eyes water with pain and he can’t breathe.

  Dreadlock gives another smile. ‘Stay off this patch, kid. My friend here is dying to get hold of your sister.’

  They leave him in a heap, bleeding, dazed and confused. They’ve taken his supply of ecstasy tablets, the bag of cocaine he’d just bought and the money in his pocket. He’s nothing at all to show for the weeks of effort and the chances he’s taken. He turns over on the ground. The alley is empty now apart from a stray cat that lifts its head from a bin. He tries to stand but everything becomes hazy. The cat speaks, something about lying still while it gets help. He laughs at that – a talking cat – then he blacks out.

  Forty

  DAY SEVEN – MONDAY, 20 FEBRUARY, MORNING

  * * *

  First thing in the morning, Robyn and Mitz headed to Hamstall Ridware to talk to Juliet Fallows before she left for work. Her daughter, Steph, dressed in pyjamas and a loose-fitting dressing gown, opened the door and let them in, trailing after them into the kitchen where she sat to finish a bowl of cereal. Juliet, in a white uniform, appeared almost immediately.

  ‘I haven’t got long,’ she said. ‘I have to leave in ten minutes.’

  ‘We won’t keep you. It’s a couple of things we’re following up. Last time we spoke, you mentioned Roger had a girlfriend.’

  Juliet’s face darkened. ‘Why don’t you ask Roger about her?’

  ‘We’re not able to contact him. We thought his girlfriend would be able to tell us where he is, but we don’t know who she is.’

  ‘I only know she’s called Naomi. You’ll be able to find out about her from the shooting club near Uttoxeter – Bramshall Leisure. She and Roger are both heavily into clay pigeon shooting. They used to be on the same shooting team. Roger often talked about it. They won quite a few matches. Try the club.’

  ‘Thank you. I also wanted to ask you about Tessa again.’

  Juliet looked at her watch.

  ‘Tessa made a phone call to you on December the thirtieth.’

  ‘What of it?’

  ‘She phoned you, Roger and Anthony, one after the other, after 11 p.m. I wondered why she’d have made the calls. You said you weren’t in contact with the others you met up with on quiz nights. It struck me as odd she rang you all.’

  Juliet shrugged, her eyes darting round the kitchen as she tried to think of a response. ‘It was about the staff meeting we were having the next day. I’m sure that’s why she rang me. She couldn’t remember what time the meeting was.’

  ‘She could have found out when she got to the clinic in the morning.’

  ‘She was off work that day. She was only coming in for the meeting.’

  ‘And you didn’t speak to or have any contact with the others yourself?’

  Juliet looked at her watch again. ‘No. I didn’t keep in touch with any of them. Look, I told you all this already and I really have to go to work.’

  ‘Of course, and thanks for talking to us.’

  Steph stood up. ‘I’ll let them out, Mum. You get off.’

  She waited until they were out of hearing range and whispered, ‘If I wanted to report my dad to the police, could I do that?’

  Robyn gave her a gentle smile. ‘Did he hurt you too?’

  Steph nodded and chewed at her lip before speaking. ‘It was mostly Mum he hit. I was really scared of him all the time. I didn’t dare say anything but since we moved away I feel I can talk about it. I spoke to my best friend and she agrees I should do something about it. He should pay for what he did to Mum. I thought about it a lot after you came last time. Mum won’t shop him but she should. She’s still scared stiff of him and worries he might turn up one day and beat her up. I don’t want that to happen. If he’s put away, he won’t be able to.’

  ‘I can give you a number to ring to talk to somebody about pressing charges but you really should talk to your mum about it first. She won’t thank you for going behind her back. It’s a major decision to take your own father to court, Steph. You’d have to be very strong-willed and determined. Don’t do anything without talking to your mum.’

  ‘I guessed you might say that. Thing is, she’s too frightened to say anything, even now. I’m not.’

  ‘Think about it again and ring me when you’ve made up your mind. I’ll put you in contact with the right people.’

  Steph palmed the card Robyn gave her with thanks before shutting the door quietly behind them both.

  As soon as she got into the car, Robyn rang David and asked him to contact the shooting club to find out Naomi’s surname and contact details.

  She and Mitz drove along the narrow lane from Juliet’s house that meandered past fields of cows and dairy farms into the village of Yoxall, where it came out almost opposite Liam’s house.

  ‘Pull up in that drive, Mitz. I’d like a quick word with Liam or Ella about Henry. He was definitely in the village on Tuesday.’

  They drew up outside the house, but Liam’s old Audi wasn’t on the drive, and when Robyn knocked at the door, there was once again no answer.

  * * *

  Back at the station, David and Anna had been productive.

  ‘Roger’s girlfriend is called Naomi Povey. She’s a member at Bramshall Leisure where she practises shooting regularly. She won Staffordshire skeet champion in 2016.’

  ‘Skeet?’

  ‘It’s a type of clay shooting. She’s one of the best at the club and won several competitions. Roger Jenkinson was also a member but he left last year. Before that, he did a lot of shooting at weekends – competition level. I got hold of Naomi and she’s on her way here now.’

  ‘Excellent. What about Roger?’

  ‘Still ou
t of contact. Naomi also thinks he’s gone off to the Peak District for a couple of days. She says he’s sure to return soon because he’ll need to prepare his produce for Thursday’s farmer’s market in Lichfield. He has a stall there.’

  ‘Can’t we get hold of him at all?’

  ‘No, guv. He disconnects from the modern world when he’s away – doesn’t turn on his phone, goes hiking and stays under canvas in fields.’

  ‘Sodding man. He’s not making this easy for us.’ Robyn stomped about the office, scowling at the other desks cluttering it.

  ‘He isn’t making it easy,’ agreed David, ‘but this might raise your spirits. You know I’ve been going through those numbers Tessa rang or messaged? Well, one caught my eye after I rang Naomi. It looks like she and Tessa messaged each other several times over a period of two days in January.’

  Robyn stopped scowling. She had another lead. ‘Great. Let me know the instant Naomi arrives. I want talk to her.’

  * * *

  Naomi was at best described as shrewish, with small, mousy features and limp hair pulled back in an elastic band. Her face wore a scowl as if she were sucking lemons. Dressed in unflattering, dark trousers, a baggy top and flat, lace-up boots, she looked far older than thirty-six.