The Mother

by Jaime Raven

  ‘Well no, but Bobby told me and I believed him.’

  She puffed vigorously on the cigarette, the smell of tobacco permeating the room.

  ‘The problem was he couldn’t get over the fact that the bitch had moved on while he was in prison,’ she said. ‘He was still obsessed with her, besotted. He refused to accept that she didn’t love him anymore and he thought he could get her back even though she’s now engaged to someone else.’

  ‘So what did he do?’

  She shrugged. ‘He kept phoning her and going over to her house in Greenwich. He even followed her a couple of times. I told him that he should stop and was wasting his time. But he didn’t want to listen.’

  This was all very interesting, Brennan thought, but he wasn’t sure how relevant it was to Molly Mason’s abduction.

  ‘Look I don’t understand why I’m having to tell you all this again,’ she said. ‘Your colleagues already know it. Don’t you lot talk to each other?’

  ‘Well I’ve not been part of that investigation, Mrs Knight,’ he said. ‘You see, I’m investigating the abduction of a child named Molly Mason. You’ve probably heard about it.’

  ‘Bobby has got nothing to do with that,’ she responded sharply. ‘He would never take a baby from her mother.’

  ‘You don’t seem surprised that his name has come up in connection with the case,’ Brennan said.

  She swallowed hard and then switched her gaze to the glowing tip of her cigarette.

  ‘That’s because as soon as I saw it on the news I realised who the mother was,’ she said. ‘She was the one who planted the evidence that got my son convicted.’

  Brennan thought about picking her up on that remark, but instead he bit his tongue and said, ‘And did you know that while he was in prison he plotted revenge against her?’

  Her eyes moved back to Brennan and she flung up a dismissive hand.

  ‘He was angry with her and he had every right to be. Going to prison didn’t just cost him his freedom. He lost the woman he was going to marry and he lost his dad as well.’

  ‘His dad? I don’t understand.’

  ‘My husband had suffered depression for a couple of years,’ she said, her voice beginning to crack with emotion. ‘Bobby being stitched up like that pushed him over the edge. He slit his wrists in the bath upstairs a year after Bobby went to prison.’

  ‘I didn’t know that,’ Brennan said. ‘And I’m truly sorry for your loss.’ He left it a beat before carrying on. ‘But what I need to know, Mrs Knight, is if your son was planning to make Sarah Mason suffer as a way of getting his own back.’

  Tears began to glisten in her eyes as she spoke. ‘When he first went inside he made all kinds of idle threats. But that’s all they were. He was never going to do anything when he was released.’

  ‘So are you saying that he didn’t mention Sarah Mason when he got out?’

  ‘No he didn’t. After four years locked up he’d come to his senses. And anyway, he couldn’t have taken that girl because he must have been dead by then. Tony bloody Kemp killed him. I know it.’

  Now she started to cry, and Brennan got up to guide her to a chair while one of the officers offered to make her a cup of tea.

  The cigarette was still trapped between her fingers and she didn’t seem to know what to do with it. So Brennan took it from her and dumped it in an ashtray on the table.

  ‘I want to call Noah,’ she said. ‘I need him to come over. This is all too much.’

  ‘We’ll call him for you,’ Brennan said. ‘Meanwhile, I wonder if we could have permission to look in your son’s room.’

  She wiped her eyes on her sleeve. ‘Is that necessary? Your people searched it after he disappeared. They said they were looking for clues.’

  Brennan sat down, pulled out his handkerchief and gave it to her. She took it and put it against her mouth.

  ‘Look here, Mrs Knight. A little girl has been kidnapped and we’re trying to find out where she is and who has her. Like it or not, your son’s name has come up in connection with it. So we have no choice but to investigate. I understand that you believe your son is no longer alive, but you know yourself that you can’t be sure. And neither can you be sure that he didn’t snatch Molly Mason to punish her mother. So your cooperation would really be appreciated.’

  He sat back while she tried to compose herself. She was asked by the officer making the tea if she wanted sugar and she nodded.

  ‘It won’t take me long to have a quick look round,’ Brennan said. ‘While I’m doing that one of these gents will ring your other son for you.’

  She lifted her head and stared at him.

  ‘It’s the door on the right at the top of the stairs,’ she said. ‘I haven’t changed anything since he was last in there.’

  Before going upstairs, Brennan had a quick look in the living room. It was smaller than he had expected and rather cluttered.

  The first thing he noticed was the colour of the sofa. It was brown, not white, and therefore not the one that Molly was sitting on in the first photo that was sent to Sarah’s phone. But he knew, of course, that it didn’t rule Knight out.

  Upstairs, he checked the bathroom first and saw for himself that it wasn’t the one that Molly had been photographed in. This one was pale blue and in the photo the bath was white.

  Bobby’s room overlooked the back garden. There was nothing unusual about it. Double bed, fitted wardrobes, dressing table, wall-mounted television. Shirts and trousers were hanging up in the wardrobes and the rest of his clothes, most of which looked new, were folded in the drawers. There was little in the way of other personal belongings. It appeared as though he hadn’t accumulated much since his release.

  Brennan wondered if the officers called in to investigate his disappearance had bothered to carry out a thorough search of the room. He doubted it, but would need to find out. He’d also have to ask them if they’d taken stuff away, such as a laptop or tablet, because there was no sign of any.

  It seemed unlikely that if Knight was still alive, and had indeed abducted Molly, that he would have brought her here to his mother’s house. There certainly appeared to be no evidence to suggest that he had. But Brennan did not want to leave until he’d had a good look around. So he took a pair of latex gloves from his pocket and got to work.

  He searched the pockets of Bobby’s trousers and jackets. He went through the drawers, checked under the bed, rifled through a documents file containing information pertaining to his release from prison.

  He was about to accept that he was wasting his time when he realised that he hadn’t looked under the mattress. And that, as he’d discovered over the years, was where many people concealed things.

  He didn’t actually expect to find anything, so when his fingers brushed against something hard and cold he felt his heart stutter.

  It was a Samsung smartphone and it came to life when he switched it on.

  Goosebumps broke out along his limbs as he began to click on the various apps. There weren’t many, and it quickly became evident that the phone had never been used to make calls or send messages. But it had been used it to take photographs. And when Brennan saw what was in the picture gallery he felt a cold blast of terror sweep through his body.

  35

  Sarah

  For Adam and me it was as though time had slowed down. It felt like the night would never end.

  We were desperate to know what was happening but there was no point bombarding Brennan with calls. I assured Adam that my boss would let us know as soon as there was a development.

  Being together was making the waiting more bearable for both of us. The issues that had driven us apart were pushed aside so that we could concentrate our minds on the only thing that mattered – our daughter.

  We sat in the living room and talked about her. Adam asked me to dig out the CD with her photos, so I did and we watched the slideshow on the TV, which soon brought tears to our eyes.

  There were pictures take
n in the hospital on the day she was born, red-faced and tiny, swaddled in the pink blanket that was still upstairs in her room.

  Adam appeared in a couple of those early photos and the pride in his expression back then was there for everyone to see. But in his eyes there was also a hint of regret because he knew that he was destined only to be a part-time father because of what he’d done.

  My favourite pictures were those that showed Molly turning from a baby into a little girl. The pretty dresses, the unruly hair, the mischief in her eyes, the way she smiled on cue for the camera.

  There were video clips amongst the photos too and these really hit the spot, causing a rush of heat to burn in my chest.

  One was filmed on her first Christmas when she was ten and a half months old. In it she was surrounded by all her presents and didn’t know what she was supposed to do with them. The look on her face was a joy to behold.

  Another, shot on Christmas night, showed Adam throwing her in the air and onto the sofa. She giggled and screamed and then cried when he told her that he couldn’t keep doing it because he had to go.

  Molly had grown used to having a part-time dad now. She always looked forward to seeing him, but she seemed happy enough when he wasn’t there. The arrangement seemed to work for everyone, which in the circumstances had to be a good thing.

  I found myself thinking that when – not if – Molly came back to us, it would be impossible to achieve any degree of normality in our lives. I couldn’t possibly go back to work again. I’d almost certainly been transformed into an overprotective mother, the type who never wants to let their children out of their sight. But I wouldn’t care, not if it meant that Molly would be safe and that nobody could ever take her from me again.

  ‘Another drink?’

  Adam was reaching for my empty glass as he spoke. I’d been so lost in thought that I hadn’t realised the slideshow had come to an end. I rubbed my eyes and felt their wetness.

  ‘I’m not sure I should,’ I said.

  The two glasses of wine and a whisky I had already consumed were buzzing through my body. But I had to admit that it felt good.

  ‘Just one more,’ Adam said. ‘You’re a long way from being drunk, but at least it’s helping us both get through the night.’

  I let him take my glass and watched him cross the room to the drinks cabinet.

  ‘Are you sure you don’t have to go home?’ I said.

  He nodded. ‘Positive. And in case you’re wondering, I still live by myself so there’s nobody waiting there for me.’

  ‘So you’re not seeing anyone then?’

  He left it a beat and I wondered if he was deciding whether or not to tell me.

  Then he said, ‘There is someone on the scene. Her name’s Helen and we’ve been dating for about six weeks. She’s in Chicago right now on business.’

  ‘Is it serious?’ I said, and it came as quite a shock when I experienced a tiny flutter of jealousy.

  He shrugged. ‘She seems to think it is, but I’m not so sure.’

  He poured us each a drink and then came and sat back down. I didn’t want a prolonged conversation about Adam’s love life so I raised the subject of Victor Rosetti again and what he’d said about Bobby Knight.

  Neither of us had known that Knight had been released from prison early on licence. But even if we had it wouldn’t have worried us because we wouldn’t have expected him to still be holding a grudge.

  ‘What I never understood back then was why he was so adamant that we’d fitted him up,’ I said. ‘I mean, the gun was in his bedside drawer and although his prints weren’t on it there were traces of his DNA.’

  ‘I told you,’ Adam said. ‘It was his only defence. He wanted to make the jury believe that one of us had planted it.’

  ‘But there was something about the way he insisted that he knew nothing about the gun or the drugs,’ I said, recalling how he responded to the allegations both during questioning and in court. ‘In fact, there was a point when he almost had me convinced.’

  ‘He’s a career criminal, Sarah. Lying comes naturally to him.’

  I shook my head. ‘I’m not so sure now. I couldn’t help wondering if one of the officers who took part in the raid wanted to make sure it wasn’t going to be a waste of time. I remember how you yourself told me that you didn’t think Knight was stupid enough to have drugs in his home.’

  ‘But I was proved wrong,’ Adam said. ‘And don’t forget that you were the one who actually found the revolver when you searched his bedroom.’

  Suddenly my mind took me back to that house four years ago. Parts of what happened had blurred over time, but other parts were as clear as day.

  I remembered how we’d barged in mob-handed. Knight had been in the living room watching television. Armed officers moved quickly through the house to make sure there was no one else there.

  And I remembered waving the search warrant in Knight’s face and telling the team to get cracking.

  I made it clear in my report that I was the officer who searched his bedroom. And that was why, throughout the process that followed, he kept accusing me of planting the gun.

  ‘You were the first copper to go in the bedroom,’ he said. ‘You must have put the fucking gun there. It doesn’t belong to me. I’ve never seen it before.’

  But there was one detail I didn’t put in my report because it didn’t seem relevant. But now I was reminded of it and suddenly it did seem relevant. I felt it prick my conscience and force the breath from my lungs.

  Turning to Adam, I said, ‘You went into Knight’s bedroom before I did. So I wasn’t the first. You were coming out of the room when I reached the top of the stairs.’

  He frowned. ‘So what?’

  ‘Well, you told me to search his room because you said you were going to check the other rooms.’

  ‘Did I?’

  ‘Yes you did. I didn’t think anything of it then, but looking back it should have made me suspicious. You’d gone into that room first and yet you hadn’t searched it. I should have asked why.’

  He suddenly looked very uncomfortable.

  ‘It was you, wasn’t it?’ I said, with a calmness I didn’t feel inside. ‘Did you plant the gun for me to find?’

  If he’d been quick to deny it I probably would have believed him, but he hesitated and his face paled.

  ‘It’s true, isn’t it?’ I said.

  His eyes held mine for a brief second, and then looked away as if in shame.

  I knew then that the weight of his guilt had suddenly become a burden that was too heavy to bear.

  36

  DCI Brennan

  After walking out of Bobby Knight’s bedroom, Brennan checked all the other rooms in the house as well as the small back garden. He saw nothing to suggest Molly had been there, but the pictures on the phone found under the mattress convinced him that Knight had kidnapped her.

  He then called DC Foster in the incident room and asked her to contact the detectives who looked into Bobby Knight’s disappearance.

  ‘I need to talk to them,’ he said. ‘And I also need to have a word with Tony Kemp. So find out where he is and let me have an address. And tell the rest of the team that I strongly believe Bobby Knight abducted Molly Mason.’

  Emily Knight was still sitting on the same chair when he walked back into the kitchen. She had a cup of tea in one hand and a freshly lit cigarette in the other.

  He took the seat next to her and held up the evidence bag containing the phone he’d found.

  ‘Have you seen this before?’ he asked her. ‘It was in your son’s bedroom.’

  She put the cup down and squinted at the bag.

  ‘That phone is black,’ she said. ‘Bobby’s phone is white. I know that for sure because I went with him to get it.’

  ‘This was under his mattress,’ Brennan said. ‘He must have hidden it there.’

  ‘I don’t understand. The police who came here before said they didn’t find anything in his room
.’

  ‘Well I doubt they carried out a thorough search.’

  ‘But why is this such a big deal? Who cares if my son had more than one phone?’

  Brennan, still wearing the latex gloves, gently removed the phone from the bag. He went straight to the picture gallery and touched a finger against the tab to open it up.

  ‘Your son was using this phone as a camera,’ he said. ‘And the photographs he took provide proof that he was planning to abduct Molly Mason.’

  Brennan showed her the first photo and a frown tightened her forehead as she stared at it.

  ‘This is the first of several photos showing the block of flats where Miss Mason and her daughter live in Dulwich,’ he said. ‘The date indicates it was taken five weeks ago.’

  He flicked onto the next photo.

  ‘This is Molly Mason’s grandmother’s house. It’s where she was when she was abducted. The photo was taken four and a half weeks ago.’

  The next photo showed Sarah Mason outside her mother’s house with her daughter in her arms.

  ‘I’m guessing your son either followed Miss Mason or else he was waiting for her to turn up,’ Brennan said. ‘It was taken a month ago when Miss Mason dropped Molly off as she usually does before going to work.’

  He paused there to let her take it in and he could tell from her face that she was struggling to do so.

  ‘The seventh and last photo taken on the camera is this one, and as you can see, it was snapped in a park,’ Brennan said. ‘The woman pushing Molly on the swing is her grandmother. That photo is dated three and a half weeks ago and there are none after that.’

  It was a significant point, Brennan knew, because it meant that the photos and video clips that were sent to Sarah had not come from this phone.

  ‘This can’t be right,’ Mrs Knight said, shaking her head sharply. ‘I don’t believe it. My Bobby would never have done this. It’s not possible.’

  ‘You have to believe it,’ Brennan said. ‘These photos prove that your son was stalking Sarah Mason after he got out of prison. It can only be because he was developing a plan to snatch her daughter.’