by Michael Wood
Matilda was in her office when Christian knocked lightly on the glass door. He didn’t wait to be asked to enter before pushing the door open.
‘Do you want the bad news or the bad news?’
‘If one of those pieces of bad news is that Sian’s run out of Maltesers in her snack drawer I’m going to scream this building down,’ she said with a twinkle in her eye.
‘It’s worse than that.’
‘Go on.’
He sat down in front of Matilda’s desk. ‘It’s about Sebastian Page’s brother, Calvin. He was released from prison in January.’
‘What? Why didn’t we know about this?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Where is he?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘You don’t have an address?’
‘His home address is listed as a house in Hillsborough. Uniform officers have been round and there’s a different family living there.’
‘For how long?’
‘Since the spring.’
‘So, where’s Calvin then?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Shouldn’t he have been in a halfway house or something?’
‘He was, but according to the report his brother found him somewhere to live and offered to keep an eye on him.’
‘Shit,’ she said, slamming her hands down on the desk. ‘Get Sebastian in an interview room now.’
‘Will do.’
‘Christian, what’s the second piece of bad news?’
At the door, Christian turned back to look at his boss. ‘Oh, right, that. Erm, I don’t think you should look at any news reports today.’
Matilda waited until Christian had left the HMET suite before she lifted the lid on her laptop and went online. Most of the national newspapers led with the story of a child going missing in Sheffield. They all linked the case with Carl Meagan’s disappearance with one newspaper even pointing out the similarities between Keeley and Carl – the blonde hair, the blue eyes. Were there child traffickers operating in Sheffield? If so, what were South Yorkshire Police doing about it?
‘I bloody hate journalists,’ she seethed.
***
Sebastian Page seemed to have aged twenty years over night. That’s what a night in the cells could do to a man.
He sat in interview room one wearing a white paper suit. His clothes had been ruined by him vomiting all over them. His eyes were red and rheumy, and Sebastian seemed to be in great pain by keeping them open.
Matilda slapped a thick file down on the table, causing him to jump.
‘Mr Page. Let’s ignore the fact you were caught drunk and disorderly in Sheffield centre last night. Let’s pretend you weren’t arrested while pissing in a fountain in the Peace Gardens and I’m not even going to mention the smell coming from the cell you slept in after you vomited all over it and missed the toilet by a mile. What I do want to know is, where is your brother and where the hell is Keeley Armitage?’
Matilda remained standing. Her arms were folded across her chest and the steely look on her face showed she meant business and was in no mood for wasting time when Keeley was still nowhere to be found.
‘My brother?’ He looked up, his eyes barely open. ‘What’s Calvin got to do with this?’
‘He’s out of prison and he’s not at the address he gave his parole officer. Where is he?’
‘I’ve no idea. I haven’t seen him for a few months.’
‘Why not?’
‘Why do you think? I’m a teacher and my brother is a child rapist, for crying out loud. That’s not going to look good, is it?’
‘You told his parole officer you’d vouch for him.’
He looked down at the table. ‘Mum didn’t want him living in that halfway house. She wanted him to get back to normal life as soon as possible.’
Matilda rolled her eyes. ‘Why did you run after we interviewed you?’
‘I don’t know,’ he said, his head sinking as if it was too heavy to hold up.
Matilda pulled out a chair and sat down. She stared at him, waiting for an answer. Christian remained standing by the door.
‘I panicked.’
‘The reactions of a guilty man.’
‘I’m not guilty.’
‘Then why panic?’
‘Because …’
‘Because is not an answer. Keeley Armitage is missing. I need to find her.’
‘Honestly, hand on heart, if I knew where she was, I’d tell you.’
Matilda exhaled loudly. ‘And Calvin?’
He shrugged.
‘What about his friends, family, fellow child rapists?’ She asked, clearly angry with his answers.
‘I feel sick again.’
‘I don’t care. You’re not leaving this room until you tell me where your brother is,’ she shouted.
‘Ma’am,’ Christian said, as a way of telling her she was taking this too far and she should allow him a comfort break.
‘Oh for fuck’s sake. Put him back in his cell.’
‘What shall we do with him? We can’t hold him for much longer without charging him.’
‘Whatever you can charge him with, do it; drunk and disorderly, criminal damage, concealing a convict, kidnapping and seriously pissing off a DCI.’
Matilda stormed out of the interview room and headed for her office.
By the time she’d climbed the stairs and entered the HMET suite she hadn’t calmed down. Her face was still thunderous and she could feel the blood pounding in her ears. She felt faint and needed something to eat. She pulled open the bottom drawer in Sian’s desk and grabbed a handful of chocolate bars before storming into her office and slamming the door so hard behind her the glass rattled in the frames.
Sian entered the suite, heard the banging, and headed for Matilda’s small office in the far corner of the open-plan room. ‘Is everything all right?’
‘No. A nine-year-old girl is missing, and everybody keeps asking me if everything is all right as if I’m going to break into a thousand pieces.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘And stop apologising.’
Matilda looked at Sian. ‘I’m sorry, Sian. I know you’re only trying to help.’ She sank into her chair, tore into a Mars bar and ate half of it in a single bite. ‘Why haven’t we found her yet?’ she asked with her mouth full.
‘I don’t know. I’ve had the results back from her iPad if you’re interested.’
‘And?’
‘You’re not going to like this.’ Sian swiped her own iPad into life and opened the email she’d received from forensics. ‘It seems that Jodie was mistaken. Keeley wasn’t only on Snapchat; she was on Facebook and Instagram. The photos on Instagram are … very grown up.
‘How do you mean?’
Sian showed her the iPad. The photographs showed Keeley fully made up, her hair stylishly arranged. Her clothes were tight and revealing and Keeley was seductively pouting into the camera.
‘Oh my God. She looks like a completely different girl,’ Matilda said.
‘I know.’
‘She looks older than nine too. Who is she sending these pictures to?’
‘Nobody. She’s posting them online. And she’s received some very unsavoury comments.’
‘Do we know who’s posting these comments?’
‘Yes. We’re following them up. It’s going to take time though.’
‘I don’t care how long it takes. I want every single person questioned. We’re going to need to talk to Craig and Linda about these pictures too, see if they knew she was taking them.’
‘Ellen did say that Riley got a lot of attention,’ Sian said. ‘Maybe Keeley has felt left out. The middle child often does. Maybe she’s getting the validation she needs from elsewhere.’
‘But this kind of validation?’ she asked, showing Sian a photo on the iPad of Keeley wearing only a bra and sucking on a lollypop, staring into the camera with heavily made up, sleepy eyes.
‘Why would a nine-year-o
ld feel the need to dress like this and take these kinds of pictures?’
‘Maybe somebody asked her to pose like that? Sian, we really need to find Calvin Page. He seems to have gone missing. Get on to his parole officer and see what they’re doing to find him.’
‘Will do,’ she turned to leave.
‘Hang on a minute,’ Matilda said. She enlarged a photo of Keeley looking seductively over her shoulder, into the camera. She held the iPad up and showed it to Sian. ‘What do you notice about this photo?’
Sian studied it. There was a look of sadness on her face. ‘I’m not sure.’
‘It’s not a selfie.’
‘What?’
‘She’s got her back to the camera; she has her arms wrapped around herself and she’s looking over her shoulder into the camera. Someone took this photo. Someone asked her to pose like this and she complied.’
‘Who?’
‘I know who my first guess would be.’
‘The father?’
‘Well, look at the background. That’s definitely Keeley’s bedroom. I want the whole family interviewed separately.’ The iPad was shaking in her hands.
‘Mat, do you think you should take a step back from this?’
Matilda’s bottom lip wobbled. ‘No. I need to do this. Sian, if I don’t find Keeley Armitage, I’m going to resign.’
‘What?’
‘I can’t have a second missing child on my conscience. The press are already making comparisons with Carl. They’ll turn on me next, I know it. If we don’t find her, it’ll kill me. I won’t be able to do this anymore. It’ll finish me.’
Chapter 24
Everything to the east of Stannington Road within a twenty-mile radius had been searched: Stannington Park, farms and their out buildings, open fields and the new housing estate, but to no avail. To the west of the main road lay more open fields and pockets of woodland. These were the areas now being targeted. If Keeley Armitage wasn’t found here, the search would have to be widened and continue over the border into Derbyshire. With nothing but sprawling acres of green land, the search would be arduous. More officers would need to be drafted in and other forces asked to join.
DC Finn Cotton and PC Natasha Tranter had been paired up and were tasked with searching the small copse of trees known as Storrs Brook. Light was beginning to fade, and it wouldn’t be long before the sun disappeared behind the looming clouds slowly edging their way across the horizon. Following a hot, dry summer, it would appear that autumn was about to bite; a storm was coming.
Throughout the day the wind had steadily increased. The heavy-duty waterproof trousers and matching coat, hat, and insulated gloves were not flattering, but they helped keep the officers warm.
‘I bet we’ve done more than ten thousand steps today,’ Natasha said as she and Finn left the brightness of farmland behind and entered the shadowy cover of trees. The temperature was noticeably cooler in the Brook.
‘My feet are killing me,’ Finn said. ‘I bet I’ve got blisters when I eventually take these off.’
‘Do you think we’ll find her?’
Finn turned to look at his partner. He saw the worried expression on her face. ‘I kind of hope we don’t. If we find her out here then we’re finding a dead body.’
‘The only alternative is that she’s been taken for … God only knows what. It’s a no-win situation.’
‘Don’t let DCI Darke hear you say that. There’s a lot riding on her finding Keeley alive.’
‘What’s she like to work for, DCI Darke?’
It was a while before Finn answered. ‘I don’t really know her that well. I generally take my orders from DI Brady, but she seems fair. She’s a little screwed up, obviously. Every now and then I feel like I’m being stared at. I look up and she’s glaring at me and then I remember I’m sitting at DC Easter’s desk.’
Searching the copse would require more intricate techniques than open space. There were many places a body, or clothing, or a scrap of fibre could be hiding. Finn took a torch from the pocket of his oversized coat and switched it on. It wasn’t dark yet, but twilight was setting in. It wouldn’t be long before the search was called off for the evening and they’d be brought back out here again tomorrow.
They looked around trees, up trees, swept undergrowth and scrambled through thickets. The ground was uneven and bone dry. Twigs snapped underfoot, the sound echoing in the silence.
‘Finn, can I ask you a question?’
‘Sure.’
‘Has anyone mentioned me in the HMET?’
He thought for a moment. ‘I don’t think so. Why?’
‘I just wondered if people were talking about me going out with Rory.’
‘I haven’t heard anything.’
‘That’s good. I’m being talked about by some of the uniform officers,’ she said, looking downbeat.
‘Really? Why?’
‘A female PC going out with someone in plain clothes; I’m obviously trying to further my career by sleeping my way to the top.’
‘Is that what they’re saying?’
‘Yes. When Harry Blythe went out with DS Hobbs last year, nobody said a dicky-bird. In fact, he received pats on the back all round.’
Finn noticed how suddenly distracted Natasha seemed. She’d lost all impetus in the search as she dwelled on the taunts she was receiving.
‘Have you spoken to your sergeant about it?’
‘What’s the point? She’s just as bad.’
‘I could have a word with DS Mills if you like. She can’t stand all this bullying in the workplace. She’d know exactly what to do.’
‘I’m frightened of looking into promotion in case people think I’ve only been accepted because of who I’m dating. I really like Rory. I’ve been out with a few headcases in my time, and I’ve got the scars to show for it, but Rory, well, he’s …’
She didn’t get to finish as she tripped on the root of an oak tree, lost her balance and fell. She slipped down a small embankment and into a dried-up river bed.
‘Natasha? Nat?’ Finn called from above. He didn’t receive a reply.
He edged his way down slowly, taking extra care where he stepped, and using each tree to steady himself so he didn’t take the quicker, but more painful route, to the bottom.
He found Natasha sitting upright, leaning against the truck of a mighty oak. She was nursing her ankle and looking straight ahead. Her face was muddy and grazed where she’d collided with a branch on her way down.
‘Natasha, are you all right? Have you hurt yourself?’
She didn’t reply. She stayed staring straight ahead, her expression blank, her eyes wide. He turned around to see what she was fixated on and almost fell over at the shock.
Upside down, legs entwined in the roots of a tree sticking out of the embankment, head almost touching the dry riverbed, was the cold dead body of Keeley Armitage.
Chapter 25
By the time Matilda Darke arrived at Stannington, dusk had fallen, and a stiff wind was blowing the storm straight for Sheffield. She edged her way down the embankment towards the awkwardly positioned white tent protecting what little trace forensic evidence nature hadn’t already destroyed. The surrounding area was lit up like an alien invasion as blue-suited forensic officers began fine-tooth combing the vicinity.
Matilda’s heart sank. This was not the result she had envisioned. She wanted nothing more than to drive to the Armitages’s house on Acorn Drive, open the back door and have Keeley jump out and run into the arms of her tearful parents.
‘Are you all right?’ Christian asked her as he handed over a forensic suit for her to put on over her clothes.
‘No. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be.’
He gave a sympathetic smile. ‘I know I shouldn’t say this, but at least it’s a result. There’ll be no endless anxious waiting for the phone to ring or a police car to pull up outside. They’ll be able to grieve.’
‘I’ve failed,’ she said, struggling to ho
ld on to her emotions. She turned her back on the forensic tent. She didn’t want anyone from her team to see her cry like this.
‘You haven’t failed.’
‘She’s dead, isn’t she?’ she said, raising her voice. ‘This isn’t a positive result, Christian. It may be a conclusion, but it’s the wrong one.’
‘Look, you don’t know what happened. Until we have all the facts of the case, we can’t say how we could have performed any better. Nothing is straightforward. She could have been dead before her parents called us. We’ve already said the whole kidnapping thing was a hoax; maybe it’s the parents who killed her and wanted to throw us off the scent.’
She looked up at Christian. He was upset by the situation, that was obvious. He also had children of a similar age to Keeley, he would feel it more than anyone, but he was being the consummate professional as always, and keeping his emotions in check.
Matilda took a deep breath and headed towards the tent. The flaps were pulled back for her and she ducked as she entered. She couldn’t see the body as Adele Kean and her technician, Lucy Dauman, were bent over it. A part of her was clinging to the hope that this body did not belong to Keeley Armitage and perhaps another child had fallen and succumbed to an accident. A few more seconds of ignorance were bliss.
Adele stood up and revealed the body. Matilda wanted to be sick. There was no denying it now. Keeley had been left in the position in which she had been found, and it wasn’t dignified. She was upside down, her legs painfully wrapped around the exposed roots of a tree. Her black tights were torn in several places, her grey, pleated skirt was up around her waist, showing her pink underwear. The blue sweater with the yellow Mary Croft school logo on the left breast was pulled up, revealing the white polo shirt beneath which was muddy and ripped. Her yellow coat was hanging off her shoulders. Keeley’s blonde hair was a tangled mess and had twigs knotted into it.
Nobody said anything as Matilda remained frozen to the spot, looking deep into Keeley’s dead blue eyes.
‘The poor child,’ she eventually said.
‘I’ve been doing this for twenty years and it never gets any easier when a child’s involved.’