Proof of Life

by Steven Suttie

  “Obviously, I wouldn’t send you down there to get beaten up. But he has done it before, hasn’t he?”

  Darren stiffened up and looked down at his lap. It was obvious from his sudden change in body language that he was uncomfortable with this conversation. Mr Pollard recognised the signs. Abused kids were remarkably loyal to their abusers, and it was this fact which allowed, often encouraged, further abuse.

  It was time to change the tune.

  “Anyway, that’s what I found out… not much!” Mr Pollard leaned forward and grabbed his brew off the coffee-table. He thought he saw a tear forming in Darren’s eye, but didn’t stare, he didn’t want to invade the lad’s privacy. He took a sip of his brew and cursed the temperature as it burnt his lip.

  “I’m sure you told me that you were going up to live with your mum when you left school?”

  Darren wiped his eyes casually with his sleeve.

  “That’s what’s happening, Sir. But that’s a year away.”

  “What if I can arrange a new school for you, up there? I’m sure I could. I could explain your situation, everything that’s gone on, with your Johnny, and your mum leaving and everything.”

  “I can’t Sir. Dad’s threatened mum with all sorts if I go and live with her. He’s saying its all about my education, but mum says its just about control. He said that if I move up there, he’ll come and burn the house down while we’re all in bed. He’s said all sorts, like he’ll kill himself, and he’ll kill my grandad.” Darren was filling up again. Mr Pollard really felt for the lad. He shouldn’t be carrying this shit around with him at this age. He should be enjoying the best days of his life. Instead, he was living an utterly miserable existence with a nasty, sadistic bully, and being used as a pawn in Michael Jenkins twisted game of emotional chess.

  “Right, mate. Listen to me. I can’t stand the thought of you going out there and trying to make the best of this situation by running away from home…”

  “But Sir,”

  “Hold on a minute mate, let me finish. I can’t just let you walk out there knowing, because I’m a boring old fart, what dangers you will face on the streets. And I can’t let you go back to your dad’s knowing he’s going to take his unhappiness out on you again. So, we’ve got a real dilemma here.”

  “Thing is though, Sir. When I run away, dad’s always alright with me for a week or two afterwards.”

  “Well what you’re saying there is that you’ll run away, but come back in a few days?”

  Darren shrugged. It was obvious that his plan was quite

  relaxed. He didn’t have a clue what he was planning.

  “I’m just… I don’t know. I get excited when I think about just setting off.”

  “What, as though you’re going on holiday?” Mr Pollard smiled affectionately.

  “I don’t know Sir. Never been on holiday. Not a proper holiday. Apart from going to stay with Granny and Grandad.” Darren took his brew off the table and took a sip, nodding appreciatively. “Good brew that, Sir.”

  Mr Pollard laughed. “Cheers. Right, I’ve got some stuff to sort out, a few more enquiries to make. I’ll go through to my bedroom and let you watch your programme in peace.”

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Donna Moran, the owner of Tameside Camper Hire couldn’t believe her eyes, as she looked out of her office window. She gasped at the extraordinary sight before her. Her missing motor-home, the subject of a national police hunt, was pulling up on the forecourt outside.

  Her heart was suddenly thumping hard in her chest. She knew the vehicle, she knew every sticker, every curve, every detail on it. This was the pride of her fleet, and despite it having different number-plates, she knew that it was hers. It was home, and it looked as though it was in immaculate condition.

  This had not been the outcome she’d been expecting. In fact, the thought of seeing this vehicle in one piece again had not crossed her mind since Wednesday night, when she’d phoned the detectives who were searching for the missing teacher.

  Donna grabbed her mobile phone off her desk, and scrolled through her call log, looking for DI Saunders’ number. A fear had gripped her. Her finger was shaking noticeably as she pressed Saunders’ phone number and then the “call” icon. It took a second to connect.

  “Hi Donna. Everything alright?” said Saunders.

  “He’s here. Just parking up now.”

  There was a silence that lasted a few seconds longer than it should have. Clearly, the detective she’d been dealing with on this had been taken by surprise, too.

  “Pollard?”

  “Yes. I’ve got to go.”

  Donna hung up and stood up to look through the side-window of her little office. Pollard was getting out of the motor-home.

  *****

  “Hi Keith.”

  “Sir, Pollard’s just turned up at the camper hire place.”

  “What?”

  “That’s what I said as well. He’s just arrived.”

  “Mate, is this a joke?”

  “No. I’m still in Ashton, I’m on my way there now with Helen, it’s only up the road. Can you organise the response?” It was clear from Saunders’ voice that he was in the middle of a major adrenaline rush.

  “Yes, yes, on it. Cheers.”

  Miller hung up and tried to take stock of the enormity of that phone call. There were so many questions suddenly revolving in his head. Was Darren with Pollard? That was the first, and loudest of the questions.

  He dialled Dixon. “Sir, It’s Miller. Pollard has just turned up at the Tameside Camper Hire shop, it’s on Huddersfield Road, Carrbrook. Please get onto control and tell them to send the nearest officers, I’m on my way now.” Miller hung up and ran out of the office, shouting Chapman and Worthington to follow.

  “Get over to Tameside Camper Hire, business premises, on the hurry up!” He shouted as ran.

  *****

  Rudovsky was sitting in the back of the CID car with Daniel Pollard, as Kenyon drove back from the Yorkshire coast. They were on the top of the Pennines, high above Greater Manchester. She was bored, as she looked out of the car window at the weird old farm-house that the motorway split into two to swerve around.

  “Stubborn fucker!” she muttered as a smile crossed her lips at the thought of the old farmer who’d refused to sell his land to the developers. He’d won his argument but was trapped in-between two of the busiest motorway carriageways in Great Britain. Rudovsky loved this story, because she knew that she’d probably have stayed put, too, and eventually died from smugness and tinnitus from the trucks passing by non-stop in the front and back garden.

  Rudovsky wanted to relay the story to her prisoner, but she thought better of it as he was in a right mood. Daniel Pollard seemed furious, he couldn’t believe all this fuss.

  Rudovsky’s phone began vibrating in her pocket.

  “Hello, DC Jo Rudovsky speaking.”

  “Oh, hi Jo, it’s Dawn. Darren’s mum?”

  “Yes, hi, what’s… is everything okay?”

  “Yes, fine, I’m just ringing to let you know that he’s here. He’s just walked through the door.”

  Rudovsky was stunned. That had come from nowhere.

  “I… you, are you talking about Darren?”

  “Yes, he’s here, he’s fine.”

  “In Aberdeen?”

  “Yes, that’s right. Okay, just thought I’d let you know.”

  “Wait, where’s Pollard?”

  “I don’t know. I’ve not really found out what’s going on, I must go. I’ll phone you back in a few minutes.”

  Rudovsky moved the phone from her ear and stared at it. “What the fuck…” she muttered, as she pressed the screen and dialled Miller.

  *****

  “Hi, look, sorry about everything that’s been going on.” Philip Pollard was walking, quite casually, towards Donna. She was standing on the step, outside her office. She couldn’t speak, she was rooted to the spot, holding onto the metal hand-rail. He was acti
ng normal, and she just couldn’t figure out how she was supposed to react. This was Britain’s most-wanted man, casually walking towards her with a cheerful smile on his face.

  “I imagine you’ve called the police. But before they arrive, I’d just like to settle up with you. I owe you some money for a new tracker, and you’ll need to change the number-plates back. The original ones are in the cupboard under the sink.” He was still smiling, and he looked as calm, and as trustworthy as he had done when he’d turned up a week earlier and paid cash to hire the motor-home and left a £1500 deposit with his bank card.

  Donna didn’t say anything, she was speechless.

  “I bet this is a shock. But listen, you’ve no need to worry. Your motor-home is in excellent condition. We’ve looked after it well for you.”

  “What’s… where’s the kid?” Donna managed to speak, though her voice sounded strange and wobbly, through the fear.

  “Oh, he’s at his mum’s, up in Aberdeen. He’s fine, don’t worry. It’s not like they were saying in the papers.” Mr Pollard had a really kind, gentle expression on his face.

  The faint sound of police sirens could be heard in the distance.

  “So, do you want to settle up? In fact, do you know what, just keep the deposit. That will more than cover the cost of a new tracker, and to pop those plates back on. Think of what’s left as compensation for stressing you out.”

  Mr Pollard stepped forward and handed the key to Donna, before turning and heading over towards the wall by the entrance to the forecourt. He sat down on the wall and waited as the police sirens got louder.

  Donna went into her office and locked the door.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Philip Pollard’s arrest had been straight-forward enough. As the first police officers arrived in a panda car, he stood up from his seated position on the wall and extended his hands for the cuffs. He was searched and placed in the back of the police car, where he waited unceremoniously for a couple of minutes, before a police van arrived at the scene.

  The disgraced teacher was led quietly from the car, to the van, and officers were just closing the internal cage door as Saunders and Grant arrived.

  The DI parked dramatically in the middle of the busy road and leapt out of the driver’s seat. The police constables were just about to lock the back doors of the van when he arrived.

  “Is it him?”

  “Yes, Sir.” Said the police officer.

  “Let me see.”

  The back doors of the police van were opened, and Saunders leant his head in.

  “Where’s Darren?” was all he asked of the prisoner.

  “He’s with his mum.”

  “Definitely?” asked Saunders, looking a little thrown by that straight-forward response.

  “Yes. He just text me, five minutes before I pulled in here. The officer who arrested me has got my phone. It’s the only number on it.”

  “Right. And is he okay?”

  “Darren? Yes, of course.”

  Saunders hadn’t been prepared for Philip Pollard’s calm and helpful manner. It surprised him, and he wasn’t sure how to react, just as Donna had struggled to find the correct manner ten minutes earlier.

  “Right. Cheers.” Saunders turned to the police constable who was standing beside him. “Alright, take him in.”

  The back doors were slammed shut once again and the police van drove away, it’s siren blaring as it headed up Huddersfield Road, headed for Ashton police station three miles away. Saunders noticed that the police presence had grown quite considerably and neighbours were starting to gather across the road, trying to find out what was happening.

  “There’s been a crash.”

  “No, it was an armed robbery at the caravan place.”

  An attractive young mum walked across the road and headed for the nearest police officer. “Hi, I’m Claire, I live up there. This is my son, Alfie.” The young lad smiled warmly at the police officer. “Has someone been stabbed?” she asked.

  “No, it’s the missing teacher, he just brought the motor-home back!” It was as though the copper couldn’t believe it either. Claire and Alfie headed back across the road to share the news with the local community.

  Shortly after the nosey-neighbour had left, Miller arrived. He was disappointed to learn that Pollard had been taken away already. He listened to Saunders assessment of the situation, before going across to see Donna in her office. She described Pollard’s weird manner, him talking as though he’d just got back from a lovely week in Skegness, not a week on the run, being hunted by every police force in the UK.

  It was a weird one, no question. But Miller was happy that it had come to this conclusion. After all, less than 48 hours ago he had been combing the cliffs of North Wales in the chopper, looking for bodies. It was looking like a good result.

  *****

  Miller and Saunders were sitting in interview room 3 at Ashton police station, just an hour after Pollard had turned up at Tameside Camper Hire.

  Philip Pollard looked relaxed but there was something else about his demeanour that Miller couldn’t quite put his finger on.

  “Okay, Philip Pollard you have been arrested on suspicion of child abduction, you do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence. I should warn you at this stage that we are investigating this case thoroughly, and we expect that we will be pressing multiple charges, once the investigation has been concluded.”

  “Yes, I understand.” Said the teacher, nodding confidently, as though this was a business meeting.

  “You’ve refused the offer of a solicitor. Do you understand that you are advised to take legal advice, before you proceed with this interview?”

  “Yes, I understand. But it’s fine. I don’t need anybody.”

  “Okay. Well, DI Saunders, my colleague here will now ask you some questions relating to the abduction of Darren Jenkins.”

  “Yes, that’s fine.”

  “Can you confirm that you abducted Darren Jenkins on the morning of Thursday 16th May?”

  “No comment.”

  Saunders and Miller looked at one another. That wasn’t in the script. They both turned their heads back towards Pollard who was sitting straight across the desk from them.

  “Can you confirm that Darren Jenkins has been with you for the past eight days?”

  “No comment.”

  This was a bizarre turn-up. Neither Miller nor Saunders had anticipated a no-comment interview from a man that had effectively just handed himself in. It was weird.

  Miller decided to have a man-to-man with Pollard. “Philip, I’m not sure that you understand the format here. We’re interviewing you to give you the opportunity to put your side of the story across, which will be beneficial to your case when this comes to court. Not if it goes to court, we’re talking about when. So, I would urge you to desist from the no comment answers, as it will harm your defence. Replying with ‘no comment’ is usually the tactic of an interviewee who doesn’t think we have enough evidence against them to make a charge. Your case is quite the opposite, we’ve got so much evidence we’ll have to decide which highlights to use in the court case.” Miller was being gentle, and quite sincere. This was a shit idea that Pollard was pursuing, there were no two ways about it. He wanted the teacher to know that he was making a mistake.

  “No comment.”

  “Well, I’ve said my piece Philip. Is it your intention to say no comment throughout this interview?”

  “No comment.”

  “Okay, well, thanks. I think we’ll leave this here for now. We’ll probably interview you again in the morning before we charge you. Interview suspended at eighteen hundred hours.”

  Miller pressed stop on the recording device, and Pollard leaned forward. “Please don’t think I’m trying to be awkward. But I prefer to say my piece in court.” Pollard looked sincere and quite apologeti
c.

  “It’s your right to do that Philip. But court could be six, eight, ten months away. You won’t get bail. You’ll be remanded in custody until your trial.”

  “No, I quite understand that. Which prison do you think I’ll be sent to?”

  “Aw God knows. Probably Forest Bank, if you’re lucky. But the prisons are all over-crowded at the minute, so it could be anywhere.”

  “Sure, I understand. I know a young lad in Forest Bank actually. So at least I’ll have a friend!” Pollard smiled widely, and Miller couldn’t help but reciprocate.

  “I know. He asked me to go down there and see him. Kieron, you mean?”

  “Yes!” Pollard treated this as though it was the greatest coincidence that had ever occurred.

  “Yeah, he wanted to convince me that you’re a good man, and that there’s no way you’d do anything to harm Darren.”

  “That was good of him.”

  “Yes, he was extremely worried about our suspicions that you were having some kind of a sexual relationship with Darren.”

  Mr Pollard smiled and nodded. “Well, that’s nice to know. He’s very much like Darren. And he was right of course. This was never about sex.”

  “I believe you. Which makes it all the more annoying that you are no commenting.”

  “Don’t worry. It will all become clear in the end.”

  “Anyway, we’ll pick this up in the morning.”

  “Sure. Okay, well, thanks.”

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Police Scotland had been alerted to Darren’s appearance at his mother’s house by the Manchester force. In a missing person’s case, the file cannot be closed until a police officer has personally met with the person and can confirm that the person is safe and well. As this was such an extraordinary case, the procedure was far more complex than usual today.