‘Sure, but let me have a look at them first.’ Sean beckoned him closer, holding out his hand for the files. ‘I’ll give you a shout when I’m done.’ Donnelly left him to it.
Sean sighed and shuffled the files on his desk, opting for the one containing the names and details of nannies and au pairs. It only took a few minutes to discount them all: none had worked for both families. He pushed the file aside and pulled the two from the nurseries in front of him, opening them together, laying them side by side so he could see the names on both lists at the same time. He looked at the first name on the list of employees from Small Fry Nursery and ran his finger down the list on the file from Little Unicorns Nursery until he was satisfied the name didn’t appear on both before moving to the next name and repeating the process over and over until he was more than halfway through the list, his index finger searching for the name of Nicola Beecher. Suddenly he froze, adrenalin flooding his body – the name appeared on both lists. She’d worked at both nurseries. ‘Well, well,’ he whispered. ‘Nicola, Nicola. I’d better take a look at you.’ He resisted the temptation to flick straight to the more detailed employment records, disciplining himself to continue his search through the list of names. There could be another.
His index finger ran faster down the list of names now, impatient to complete the task, but as he searched for the penultimate name on the list of employees from Small Fry his hand froze again as he found the same name on the list from Little Unicorns – Hannah Richmond. ‘Would you believe it?’ he asked himself and immediately headed to Donnelly’s office.
‘Have you checked the names on the lists from the nurseries?’ he asked in an almost accusatory tone.
‘No,’ Donnelly admitted. ‘I was going to do it while I loaded them into the system. Why?’
‘We have a hit – in fact we have two.’
Donnelly sensed the excitement in his voice. ‘That’s not too surprising,’ he cautioned. ‘Two nursery schools close to each other – I’m almost surprised you didn’t get more.’
Refusing to be deflated, Sean sat at Sally’s unused desk and began to read through the personnel files of Nicola Beecher and Hannah Richmond.
‘Do the schools know we have these files?’ he asked without looking up.
‘Yeah, sure, Donnelly answered. ‘I told them we could get a Production Order if they wanted, but both said it wasn’t necessary. Missing kids and all that – they were pretty keen to help. Wouldn’t do their image much good if they were seen to be uncooperative.’
‘No,’ Sean agreed, flicking through Nicola Beecher’s file, ‘I don’t suppose it would.’ A quick check of her employment dates showed she would have come into contact with both George Bridgeman and Bailey Fellowes. ‘She would have had access to both children,’ he relayed the information to Donnelly, ‘and working in the nursery means she has access to their personal details − addresses, parents, siblings.’
‘Not exactly,’ Donnelly threw another fly in the ointment. ‘She’s currently working at Little Unicorns, George Bridgeman’s nursery.’
‘So?’
‘So she’d have access to George’s current details, but not Bailey’s. Remember, Bailey’s family moved house only recently – she wouldn’t know that.’
‘Unless she’d watched them,’ Sean told him, ‘or had them watched. Or maybe she just asked around – asked some of her old friends from Little Unicorns.’
‘Possible,’ Donnelly agreed.
‘It’s more than possible,’ Sean argued.
‘OK,’ Donnelly tried to slow him down. ‘Say it’s possible, even probable, but why? Why would a nursery teacher be snatching away wee kiddies she’s come into contact with?’
‘To get what she wants most, but can’t have.’
‘Children of her own,’ Donnelly answered after a pause.
‘It makes sense,’ Sean tried to convince him. ‘We have no bodies, no signs of violence, no ransom demand – it makes sense.’
‘I can’t see a bird picking locks and entering houses in the middle of the damn night.’
‘Nor can I,’ Sean agreed. ‘That’s why I think she’ll be working with someone else – a man. Probably someone newish on the scene, someone she’s been waiting for – someone she could talk into doing her dirty work – someone who’s desperate to please her.’
‘Get me the kiddies or there’ll be no hanky-panky for you,’ Donnelly offered.
‘Something like that,’ Sean despairingly agreed, still searching through the personnel records, his finger momentarily resting on the small passport photograph of an attractive woman with short auburn hair before moving to Nicola’s background and family details. ‘Fuck it. No good. She’s married – three kids and in her mid-forties.’
‘Husband’s run off with the kids and a bit of crumpet half his age?’ Donnelly unhelpfully suggested.
‘No,’ Sean dismissed him. ‘She’s no good for it.’
He tossed her now useless file aside and pulled Hannah Richmond’s towards him, hurriedly searching for her personal details, dwelling for a second on the passport photograph of a slightly dumpy woman with long, light brown hair, before beginning to read silently to himself, praying for a miracle. Hannah Richmond, thirty-six years old, home address 22a Agar Grove, Camden Town. Marital status: single, no children, next of kin: her mother.
‘This one,’ Sean declared without a hint of triumph. ‘Hannah Richmond, currently working at Small Fry Nursery as an assistant teacher, but also worked at Little Unicorns doing the same. This could be our woman.’ Quickly he checked her employment dates, speaking to Donnelly as he did so. ‘Her employment dates confirm it: she worked at Little Unicorns at a time that would have given her access to George Bridgeman.’ He at last looked up at Donnelly. ‘Who’s the Family Liaison Officer for the Fellowes?’
‘I gave that particular unenviable task to young DC Goodwin,’ Donnelly answered. ‘Thought the experience would do him good – teach him it’s not all cops and robbers.’
Sean quickly found Goodwin’s mobile. He kept all his team’s numbers in his contacts, past and present. He dialled, pacing the office as he waited for an answer.
‘Ashley speaking.’
‘Ash,’ Sean began, ‘are you with the family at the moment?’
‘Of course, guv’nor.’
‘Ask them if they know a teacher’s assistant at Bailey’s nursery called Hannah Richmond. I’ll explain why later.’
‘Hold on a second,’ Goodwin told him, leaving Sean listening to muffled voices in the background until Goodwin’s clear voice returned. ‘I’m getting blank looks here, guv’nor.’
‘She’s white, mid-thirties, heavy to medium build, long brown hair. I’ve only got a passport photograph here – I can’t tell you much more.’ More muffled voices from the other end of his mobile.
‘No. Sorry. No one here knows her. But Mrs Fellowes says their au pair usually takes the kids to and from school, so it’s not unsurprising she doesn’t recall a teacher’s assistant.’
‘Is the au pair there?’ Sean asked.
‘No. At the park with the kids.’
‘Shit. All right, I’ll get back to you,’ Sean told him and hung up, turning to Donnelly. ‘Is Maggie back with the Bridgemans?’
‘Should be.’
He quickly found and called her number, which was answered almost immediately.
‘Guv’nor?’
‘You with the Bridgemans?’
‘Yes,’ Maggie answered. ‘I was just explaining to them what happens next.’
‘Never mind that,’ Sean interrupted, ‘ask them if they know a woman called Hannah Richmond. She used to work at Little Unicorns with George.’
‘Hold on,’ she told him as he endured more distant mumbles before Maggie spoke to him again. ‘They’re asking why you want to know.’
‘Tell them …’ Sean began, before realizing his voice was raised in frustration. ‘Just tell them,’ he repeated, more quietly, ‘that I’ll explain ev
erything as soon as I can, but right now they need to answer the question.’
‘OK. Give me a second.’ Sean rubbed his forehead while he anxiously waited for Maggie to come back to him. ‘Yeah, they know her.’
‘Know her or remember her?’ Sean asked, momentarily confused.
‘They know her,’ Maggie confirmed.
‘She must have made quite an impression on them.’
‘Not really,’ Maggie explained. ‘She wasn’t just an assistant teacher at George’s nursery, they used her for private child-minding when they were between nannies – which is strictly against school rules, hence they were a little reluctant to tell us at first.’
‘Ask them what she was like.’
‘OK,’ Maggie answered with a resigned tone. ‘Give me a minute.’ He listened to more infuriating, unintelligible background chatter for what seemed like hours. ‘They say she was very nice, completely obsessed with the kids, didn’t appear to have a social or love life. I guess that’s what made her such a good child-minder: she was reliable – always available.’
‘Thanks, Maggie,’ he told her before hanging up, caressing the growing stubble on his chin between his index finger and thumb as he stared down at the small, lifeless photograph of Hannah Richmond, her eyes like the dolls’ eyes from Bailey’s bedroom – looking, but not seeing. His hand drifted from his face to the photograph, his finger circling Hannah Richmond’s plain face as he accidentally spoke out loud. ‘They’re beautiful, aren’t they – these children you’ve taken? Flames to the moth.’
‘Excuse me,’ Donnelly interrupted, stopping him before he could say any more.
‘What?’ Sean asked, looking up, unaware of what he’d said.
‘You said something.’
‘It was nothing – just thinking out loud. We need to take a close look at this woman. We need to totally change our suspect outlook – change their profile.’
‘You sure about this?’ Donnelly questioned. ‘Seems like hell of a risk. Wouldn’t we be safer checking out more local paedophiles or even looking at some further afield?’
‘No. This one has good local knowledge. These attacks aren’t random – they’re planned – planned meticulously. They even have knowledge of the inside of the houses: where the children sleep, the fact they’re not alarmed – everything they need to know, they know.’
‘But how could this … this Hannah Richmond know those things? There’s no evidence or suggestion she’s been in either home – in the Bridgemans’ old home, sure, but not their new one.’
‘But whoever’s taking the children for her could have been inside. Maybe the new man in her life was one of the removal men, the alarm fitter, anything. Where are those damn names, anyway?’
‘We’re working on it,’ Donnelly told him.
‘Then we need to work faster. There’ll be more connections here, I’m sure of it – more connections between the families and the houses. We need to find them before we have another missing child on our hands – or worse.’
‘Worse?’ Donnelly asked. ‘I thought you said she was taking them because she wanted to keep them – to love them?’
‘I did, but that doesn’t mean she’s not deranged. For all we know she could be schizophrenic and not taking her medication. Which means she’s dangerous, whether she knows it or not.’
‘I don’t know, boss.’ Donnelly shook his head. ‘I’m still not convinced this isn’t just some kiddie-fiddler nut-job. It could just blow up in our faces if we go down this route.’
‘It’s not a paedophile,’ Sean insisted. ‘I’m sure of it.’
‘Why?’ Donnelly asked. ‘Why so sure?’
‘Because of what McKenzie said: if they’d been taken by someone like him they’d already be dead by now and we would have at least one body.’
Donnelly’s shoulders slumped. ‘It’s unusual, I admit, but I still feel like we’re going out on a limb here, with this Hannah bird.’
‘It’s my call, so I’ll be the only one out on a limb.’
‘That’s not what I meant.’
‘I know,’ Sean told him.
‘Then what are we going to do?’
‘Get the surveillance team back up and running and put them on Hannah Richmond,’ he answered, already reaching for his desktop phone and punching in the extension number he knew off by heart. A few seconds later the other end was picked up.
‘Detective Superintendent Featherstone speaking.’
‘Boss, it’s Sean. I need a favour.’
‘I’m listening,’ he answered, his tone neutral.
‘I need the surveillance back.’
‘I thought this McKenzie bloke was done and dusted as a suspect.’
‘He is,’ Sean agreed. ‘I need them for someone else.’
‘A new suspect?’ Featherstone asked, interested now. ‘Care to share?’
‘I haven’t got time to go into it right now. Can you trust me?’
‘Sure,’ Featherstone replied after a pause.
‘Then I can have the surveillance?’
‘You can have the surveillance,’ Featherstone told him, ‘but not until the day after tomorrow. They’re all tied up on an Anti-Terrorist job until then. I’ll never be able to pull them away. Sorry.’
‘Don’t worry about it,’ Sean replied. ‘The day after tomorrow will be fine.’
‘You sure, given the nature of this case?’ Featherstone seemed slightly surprised at Sean’s calm reaction.
‘Day after tomorrow will be fine,’ Sean answered and quickly hung up.
‘You’ve got that look again,’ Donnelly told him. ‘Like you’re about to do something you shouldn’t.’
‘Surveillance can’t cover until the day after tomorrow.’
‘So I gathered.’
‘So we’ll cover it until then.’
‘You didn’t tell Featherstone that,’ Donnelly quizzed.
‘No,’ Sean replied. ‘There’s no way he’d let me pull most of the team away from other inquiries to cover a suspect like Richmond. He’d be too scared it was slowing down the investigation.’
‘And he might have a point.’
Sean ignored him. ‘Take five people and three cars. Have whoever you want, but get the surveillance up and running. Cover Richmond until two a.m., then I’ll take over with a relief team.’ He glanced at his watch and looked across the main office at the darkness beyond the windows. ‘It’s too late to pick her up leaving work, so cover her home – address is in the file, somewhere in Camden.’
‘I hope you’re right about this,’ Donnelly told him, shaking his head in concern.
‘So do I,’ Sean answered, ‘because if I’m wrong, then I really haven’t got a clue what’s going on here. Not a single, damn clue.’
8
Hannah Richmond stared at herself in the large square mirror that hung in her kitchen, attacking her long dull hair with an old comb, desperately trying to make it look presentable. Finally she gave in and tossed the comb on to the table as she straightened her only suit and admired her image – not something she was used to doing, but these last few months had been different – life-changing. She’d met a man and he’d already told her he loved her and wanted to marry her – the sooner the better. She was the first to admit he wasn’t exactly the man of her dreams, or probably anyone’s, but he was good and decent, and he was keen to please her – to bow to her every whim. More than anything else she was happy now and hadn’t even had to take her anti-depressants lately, despite warnings from her doctor about the possible side effects of dropping her medication so abruptly. ‘Doctors,’ she said to herself. ‘What do they know?’
She should have been going to work today, but an opportunity too good to ignore had come up and she was going to take it – grab it with both hands, that’s what her man had told her to do, so that’s what she was going to do. She was dressed in her best and almost ready to head out. She needed this and knew the children needed her. School would be expecting her into
work later that morning, but she wouldn’t be able to make it, not today. She’d wait a little while longer, then phone in and tell them she was sick with that stomach bug that was doing the rounds. More than a few children at the nursery had had it, so it shouldn’t give rise to too much suspicion.
She thought of the nursery as she tried to apply a little make-up, something else she wasn’t used to doing. But her man reckoned it suited her, so she’d taken to using it more often, although still only for special occasions, or when she needed to make an impression, like this morning. Small Fry was all right – the other teachers were pleasant enough, if a bit condescending at times, and most of the children were adorable too, although some took after their parents: arrogant and self-important, acting as if they were royalty, speaking in their clipped accents just to make sure everybody knew they belonged to the right set. They barely even looked at her, let alone spoke to her, unless they wanted something – child-minding usually, then they were all smiles and niceties, until they’d got what they wanted. I trust you to look after my children, but don’t expect me to treat you like an equal, or even a person. ‘Don’t deserve children, most of them,’ she told her image in the mirror. ‘Can’t see the point in having them if you don’t want to be with them.’ She’d buried her jealousy well all these years, that twisting feeling she got in her belly every time she saw or heard a parent treating their child with contempt and disdain, as if they were nothing more than a burden. And yet all this time, all these years, all she’d ever wanted were children of her own. But she could never meet the right man – any man − until now. And she was already in her thirties – it might be too late for her. She couldn’t take that chance – she had to have children.
Hannah Richmond pulled on her thick winter coat, grabbed her old handbag and headed for the front door of the small ground-floor flat she’d bought off the local council years ago. It was in an ugly modern tenement block – something that looked as if it had been made out of giant pieces of black and white Lego. As she undid the various front-door locks the bathroom door behind her opened and her man stepped out, his badly receding hair still wet, a towel wrapped around his ample waist. He hadn’t bothered to shave. ‘You’re out early,’ he said in his thick London accent. ‘Dressed to kill an’ all. Something on at work?’
The Toy Taker Page 24