When the Evil Waits

by M J Lee

  Next to her, Ridpath leant on a desk and, on the other side, Emily Parkinson stood beside the cinema manager.

  DCI Paul Turnbull was at the back, staring at the ends of his fingers, ignoring the screens.

  They had already shown the coroner to the staff room, where she was comforting her daughter and her grandchild.

  The manager was explaining in tortuous detail. ‘The doors open at precisely 9.45 a.m. and the first film today was 10.15 on the dot. We’ve only just reopened after lockdown so there’s not a lot of new films – that’s why we’re reshowing some golden oldies. The new generation have never seen the Harry Potters or the Lord of the Rings and they are surprisingly popular.’

  Claire Trent pointed to the screen, where a woman and a kid were standing in front of a glass barrier. ‘So these are the customers this morning?’

  ‘The two monitors on the right are walk-ins. The monitor on the left is for pre-bookings. They can pick up their tickets at this cashier. What are you looking for?’

  The three detectives looked at each other.

  ‘We don’t know,’ answered Ridpath.

  Turnbull coughed from the back.

  Ridpath ignored him, remembering the criminal profiler’s description. ‘Perhaps a single white male, aged over thirty?’

  The images continued to flash on the screen as customer after customer stepped forward and chose their seats.

  ‘Shouldn’t be too many of those, but you’d be surprised how much the Harry Potters and the Lord of the Rings cross the generations.’

  A single man came forward and selected a seat, paying in cash.

  ‘Can you freeze it here?’ ordered Ridpath.

  The manager stopped the picture.

  Ridpath leant in closer. Was this him?

  ‘I can print out the image if you want. We’ve got a video printer as part of the kit,’ the manager said proudly.

  Ridpath nodded.

  The other screens carried on rolling as the sound of the video printer echoed through the small viewing booth.

  ‘Stop. Stop it now.’

  Emily Parkinson was pointing to the screen. ‘I know this man.’

  Chapter 91

  They sat down to the meal he cooked.

  The boy had woken up ten minutes earlier, confused, not knowing where he was or how he had got there.

  The wonders of modern drugs.

  He explained that the boy had fallen ill and he had brought him home. They would just have something to eat and then he would take the boy back to his parents.

  ‘I don’t have any parents. I have a mum, though.’

  ‘Same as me. I have a mother too.’ He pointed to the woman sat watching the television.

  ‘Can I go home now?’

  ‘Let’s eat first and then I’ll take you home.’

  ‘Mum will be worried about me.’

  ‘She won’t. I rang her to let her know where you are and that I’ll bring you home after we’ve eaten. Aren’t you hungry?’

  The boy nodded but then said, ‘It’s my birthday. We were supposed to see Harry Potter and then eat some cake and ice cream. Mum promised.’

  ‘Of course, you will. She’s arranged it all. But you have to eat your birthday lunch first and then you can go.’

  ‘All of it?’

  ‘Every last spoonful.’ He rolled the spaghetti around his fork. ‘See, this is how you do it.’

  ‘I know, Mum showed me.’ The boy then swirled some spaghetti and sucked it up through his lips, trailing bolognese sauce everywhere.

  The man took his handkerchief and wiped the boy’s mouth, saying, ‘You are a mucky pup.’

  The boy ate another three spoonfuls, ingesting the drug the man had sprinkled on top with the parmesan cheese.

  For a moment he stopped and stared at the woman sitting in the chair. ‘Why doesn’t your mum move?’

  ‘Because she’s dead,’ answered the man truthfully.

  Chapter 92

  ‘What?’

  Both Claire Trent and Ridpath spoke at the same time.

  ‘I know who it is. I interviewed him when I was checking out the CCTV. He’s the owner of the convenience store close to the park.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  Emily Parkinson stared at the screen again. ‘Certain. David Carsley was standing outside his shop on the footage before he was kidnapped. I’ve got his name somewhere.’ She reached into her jacket, pulling out her notebook. ‘Here it is. Matthew Oram. That was his name.’

  ‘He’s buying tickets for the same cinema as our missing boy. Screen Two.’

  ‘The toilet where the boy was abducted, how do you get to it?’

  ‘The only way is through the cinema. Funny, there’s a door at the bottom of the steps. The alarm went off this morning.’

  Ridpath was on his phone in a flash. ‘Chrissy, we need an address immediately. Matthew Oram, we know he owns a convenience store in Wythenshawe.’

  ‘No problem.’ Ridpath heard the tap of computer keys. ‘It’s not a common name. I’ll check the electoral register. Yeah, here we are. There’s just one listed. He lives in a house not far from the park in Sharston. It’s 168, Winman Street. There are only two registered occupants, himself and a woman, Marjory Oram. Could be his wife or his mother.’

  ‘It’s the same address he gave me,’ said Emily Parkinson.

  ‘Paul, get onto the Police Tactical Unit, I want a team ready to go into that house in twenty minutes.’

  ‘On it, Claire.’ Turnbull seemed animated at last, immediately diving for his phone and striding out into the lobby.

  ‘What about the shop? He might be there.’

  ‘Ridpath, go and check it out. Take Emily and a squad car with you.’

  Turnbull was back. ‘The PTU is set and on its way, ready to go on your orders, boss.’

  ‘Good, Paul, you’re with me. I want to get this bastard.’

  They all strode out into the lobby. Ridpath shouted, ‘Won’t be a moment.’

  He ran to the staff room and stuck his head around the door. Mrs Challinor was sitting in the corner with her daughter’s head resting on her shoulder, gently smoothing Sarah’s hair as she sobbed. At their feet, Amy played with what remained of the popcorn.

  ‘We’ve got a lead to where he could be. I’ll let you know as soon as I can.’

  Mrs Challinor lifted her head. ‘Thank you, Ridpath.’

  In the lobby, Molly Wright came out of the shadows and strode directly towards Claire Trent.

  ‘Claire, can you tell me what’s going on?’

  ‘No. You shouldn’t be here. This cinema is cordoned off.’

  ‘Don’t be like that, Claire, tell me what’s going on.’

  Claire Trent stared at her for a second and then spoke directly to the sergeant at the door. ‘Get rid of her. She shouldn’t be in here.’

  The sergeant took the reporter’s arm.

  ‘You won’t hear the last of this, Ms Trent. I can build you up and I can take you down.’

  ‘Come along, miss.’ The sergeant tugged on her arm.

  ‘You won’t hear the last of this,’ she shouted over her shoulder.

  Ridpath ran back to join them.

  ‘Be careful, you two,’ were the last words he heard Claire Trent shout as he ran out of the lobby door and down the stairs, Emily Parkinson just a step behind.

  Chapter 93

  Molly Wright was fuming.

  How dare that bloody jumped-up tart get rid of her? Who did she think she was? She would show her. It takes a lifetime to build a reputation but one article could destroy it.

  You’d better watch your back from now on, Claire bloody Trent. One wrong step and it’s going to be posted in every newspaper from here to Timbuktoo.

  The sergeant let go of her arm, shoving her behind the police tape. ‘Make sure she doesn’t come back in,’ he ordered a nearby constable.

  She smoothed down her clothes and tidied her hair, imagining the vicious barbs she would write abo
ut the detective superintendent. Barbs to destroy the woman and her career.

  As she did, Ridpath and the female police officer ran past her.

  Where were they rushing to?

  The detectives spoke to another sergeant and were immediately shown to a squad car, getting in the back. The car put on its siren and flashing lights, pushing itself slowly through the crowd lining the pavement, before zooming off down Kingsway. She saw her photographer still parked on the road where she had left him ten minutes earlier.

  Thank God for stupidity, she thought.

  She ran over to his car and wrenched open the passenger door. The photographer was still listening to his police scanner.

  ‘Follow that car,’ she ordered.

  ‘Which one?’

  She rolled her eyes. ‘The one with the flashing lights and the bloody siren.’

  He pulled out and sped away down Kingsway, seeing the police car in the distance.

  Molly Wright shook her head. You can’t get the staff these days.

  Chapter 94

  He carried the semi-comatose boy to the bedroom.

  The meal hadn’t gone according to plan – things started to go wrong when he had told him that his mother, the woman sitting in front of the television, was dead.

  A slow realisation had dawned in the boy’s eyes. A realisation that perhaps he shouldn’t be there. That this wasn’t a good man sitting next to him. That dead people don’t sit in living rooms watching television.

  ‘I’d like to go home now.’

  ‘Finish your meal first.’

  The boy threw his fork down on his plate, scattering bolognaise sauce all over the table. ‘I want to go home now. I want to see my mum.’

  Why did they always have to spoil it? Here they were having a wonderful meal, cooked by him, enjoying a little chat and some good food. But still they were not satisfied.

  He tried one more time.

  ‘You can go home after you’ve eaten your food. Doesn’t your mother always tell you to finish your food because there are starving babies in Africa who would love a bowl of spaghetti?’

  ‘No,’ the boy shouted, flipping his plate up, spilling the food all over the table and on the floor.

  ‘Look what you’ve done now,’ the man said gently. ‘Little boys need to be punished if they throw food. Didn’t your mother tell you that too?’

  The boy’s eyes started to glaze over and defocus. The drugs were beginning to kick in.

  ‘Now, I’m going to have to clean up before I punish you.’

  There was no answer from the boy. His head lolled to one side and his mouth opened slowly, the tongue creeping out from between his teeth.

  ‘You sit here while I tidy up. Please understand, you have been a naughty boy and you are not going to escape punishment. My mother,’ he pointed to the body sitting in front of the television, ‘punished me when I was naughty. I deserved it, I always deserved it. And so do you.’

  Chapter 95

  They cut the lights and siren when they were five minutes away from the shop, coasting to a stop a block away. The convenience store was at one end of a row of shops in a residential neighbourhood. Michael Carsley’s house was only a few minutes’ walk away and Wythenshawe Park was behind them.

  ‘What are we going to do, Ridpath?’ asked Emily.

  ‘If he’s just abducted somebody, he’s unlikely to be working in the shop, he’s probably at the other address. But we can’t take any chances. You two,’ he pointed to the two constables, ‘go round the back and check out the rear alley. If he is in the shop, that’s where he’s going to run.’

  ‘And us two?’

  ‘We’re going to walk straight in. You are doing some follow-up on your enquiries a couple of days ago.’

  ‘If he’s there?’

  ‘We take him down and break his balls until he tells us where the boy is. Ready? You two go first. We’ll give you a minute to get round the back and then we’ll go in.’

  The two constables left the car and ran down the alley behind the row of shops.

  Ridpath got out of the car first, pulling down his jacket. Followed by Emily, he strode past the hairdressers and the Chinese takeaway, past the bookies and the knitting shop. They stopped for a second in front of the ATM and its camera.

  ‘This is where you got the footage?’

  She nodded.

  ‘Strange that none of the other shops saw the boy.’

  ‘It was lunchtime, many of them were closed.’

  ‘Are you ready?’

  She nodded again.

  ‘You go in first and I’ll watch your back. Remember, if he’s there, you are just following up on the ATM footage.’

  ‘And if he’s not?’

  ‘We’ll play it by ear. The uniforms should be in position by now. Ready?’

  She pushed open the door, hearing a bell ring above her head.

  They didn’t notice Molly Wright and her photographer watching them from the car across the road.

  Chapter 96

  Sergeant Trevor Hall was the head of the Police Tactical Unit. Claire Trent had worked with him before and knew him to be an efficient, dedicated officer.

  His unit, Claire Trent and Paul Turnbull were standing behind a parked PTU van at the corner of the road, hidden from view of the house. Discreet cordons had already been placed eighty yards on either side of number 168. All the men were uniformed and carrying their Heckler & Koch semi-automatics, gathered round the rear of the van.

  ‘I want to go in with your men, Sergeant. I’m firearm-trained.’

  ‘I’m afraid not, Detective Chief Inspector Turnbull. There is possibly a child inside and we can’t have extra people who’ve not trained with us as part of our team.’

  ‘I insist, Sergeant.’

  Trevor Hall glanced towards Claire Trent. ‘You can insist all you like, Chief Inspector, but as long as I am in charge of this Tactical Unit, the only members of it are going to be people I know and trust. Clear.’

  ‘Let’s move on, gentlemen. Trevor is in charge of this entry, Paul. You will remain here with me.’

  Turnbull reddened and turned away, muttering under his breath.

  Sergeant Hall adjusted his bulletproof vest across his chest, pulling it down so it was more comfortable. Had he gone soft in lockdown? A few hours in the gym would soon clear up anything that resembled fat.

  ‘Listen up, people, there are only two entrances to this house. The rear backs onto the garden of another house at 37 Dalgliesh Road. Jimmy is already in there with eyes on the back.’

  ‘Any movement, boss?’

  ‘None so far, Lenny. He’ll report it immediately if he sees something.’

  He pointed to the street map stretched out in the back of the PTU van. ‘Here’s the house. Team A will assemble here with Jimmy. When I give the order, they will go in the back over the fence.’

  ‘How high is it, boss?’

  ‘Four feet, three inches and wood-panelled. A pretty standard B&Q special with posts set in concrete. Even you should be able to get over it, Lenny.’

  His men laughed nervously, relieving the tension that all of them felt.

  ‘Team B will go in the front. Steve, you’re going to be in charge of the big orange key. I want a clean one-strike entry like we practised. Team A will clear downstairs while Team B will go upstairs. Got it?’

  They all nodded.

  ‘There is the likelihood that a child is present. So be careful, everybody, the perp has killed before.’

  ‘What’s his name?’

  ‘Why, you gonna write a letter to him, Tony?’

  ‘No… I…’

  ‘It’s Matthew Oram. Little is known about him. Aged thirty-two, single, owns a convenience store near Wythenshawe Park. He’s not on the Register of Sex Offenders.’

  Sergeant Hall checked his watch. ‘We go in two minutes, people. Team A leads off and we follow. Our entry time is… exactly 12.15. It is now… 12.10.’

  They chec
ked and adjusted their watches.

  ‘All communications on Channel 7. Lenny, you’re leading Team A and I’m leading Team B.’ He turned to Claire Trent. ‘Anything to add, Detective Superintendent?’

  She shook her head. ‘Be careful, a child could be inside.’

  ‘Tony, you will be responsible for extracting the child. Clear?’

  ‘Yes, Sergeant.’

  ‘Right, let’s get ready to move. Lead your team off, Lenny, and good luck.’

  Without answering, Lenny and his team ran across the street, turning right into Dalgliesh Road.

  Sergeant Hall assembled his men. As ever, the butterflies were fluttering in his stomach. He hated this time before everything kicked off. As soon as it started, he would be OK. The training would kick in and his one focus would be on the job at hand; gaining entry into number 168 and eliminating any threat inside.

  Trevor Hall had no qualms about killing if necessary. It’s what he had been trained to do in the marines and now in the Police Tactical Unit. Death was just part of the job. He didn’t look forward to it or enjoy it, but he was damn sure if anybody was going to die that day it wasn’t going to be him.

  The Airwave squawked. ‘In position on Dalgliesh Road. Still no sign of activity at number 168. Over and out.’

  ‘Message received, over. Moving into position. Will give the order to enter in one minute, repeat, one minute. Over.’

  ‘Message received, over.’

  Trevor Hall raised his arm and instantly the five men in his team moved forward behind him, covering his every move. They were quick and silent, speed being the one element that gave them a tactical advantage.

  Within forty seconds they were crouched down behind the low wall in front of the house. Hall brought the Airwave up to his mouth. ‘Team B. Go.’

  ‘Order received. Over.’

  Through the Airwave he heard the sound of heavy feet, thudding across wooden floorboards.

  He stood up and waved Team B forward. They advanced as one, with Steve running forward, carrying the orange enforcer to gain entry.