by Alex Clare
‘Not yet, sir.’
By the window, Khalid was concentrating on the waste-paper basket.
The lines on Fell’s forehead deepened. ‘Why not? Are you going to say you haven’t got enough resources? Or are you not focused?’
Robyn’s stomach tightened. ‘More resources are always useful, sir.’
‘And with those resources, I would suggest the investigation needs to focus on the basic facts.’
‘Yes, sir.’
Khalid coughed from the doorway. ‘The journalists will be here. I’ll stall them for a couple of minutes.’
Fell reached for his cap and brushed at a speck of dust, reminding Robyn of the warehouse. ‘When will we know who the woman is?’
She had to prove she was still able to deliver. ‘Tomorrow, sir.’
‘Very well.’ Fell met her eyes for a second, before his gaze returned to the wall. ‘And I want some definite progress on the burglaries. I did my quarterly update to community stakeholders yesterday and there is a climate of fear amongst the borough’s older residents.’ He marched out without closing the door. The outer door opened and the soft scuffle of Fell’s brogues and the tap of Tracey’s heels receded. Tomorrow …
16
‘Listen up, everyone.’ Robyn stood in the centre of the incident room and waited for quiet. ‘I’ve just committed to Fell that we’ll identify who the woman in the dress is by tomorrow.’
‘What were you thinking of? How could you be so stupid?’ Janice was on her feet. She took in a sharp breath. ‘I meant the team doesn’t need extra pressure, Robyn. We’re all doing our best here.’
Their eyes met. Janice’s lips were pressed together, bloodless.
Coming from Janice, the criticism stung. Robyn felt the team’s eyes on her as she walked to the board and pointed to the photo of Ben. ‘This boy has been missing for close to thirty-six hours and we’ve got nothing. However hard we’re trying, it’s not getting us anywhere so we need to do better.’
Janice half-shrugged and slumped into her chair.
‘I’m always happy to hear concerns but nothing changes the job we’ve got to do.’ Robyn’s voice sounded too loud as if she was trying to convince herself. ‘We start by concentrating on two things. Who is the woman and how did she get away? Questions?’ Robyn’s stomach rumbled. She hoped no one had noticed.
Ravi’s hand shot up – ‘It could be Maggie Gorton. We know she lives nearby.’
‘Yes. We need to know where she is. And we should be able to track the St Oswald’s van on CCTV to confirm Parkes’ movements.’ She turned to Lorraine. ‘Forget the burglaries for the moment. Ms Chivers is hiding something about Ben’s father. We need to know who he is, or was.’ She tapped the grainy picture from the shopping centre. ‘We’ve got Ben’s DNA to check for potential matches.’
What she was asking them to do was all so obvious. She’d allowed herself to get lost in details. ‘Graham, we haven’t had any demands for ransom so let’s leave the Dearmans out of this for the moment. Go and re-interview all of the people in the nearby shops. Someone must have seen the woman.’
Graham scowled, then nodded.
‘Janice, Ravi, we need to close off some loose ends. Find the builder and eliminate him, then follow up the voluntary work, the church and Ben’s school. Oh and keep in touch with Uniform about the searches. I want a briefing from all of you at six.’ Janice stared ahead for a moment then shook her shoulders and pulled the keyboard towards her.
Robyn watched the team return to their desks. Now she’d set them working, she should be thinking of the next steps, seeing the pattern but kept wondering when she’d get a chance to call Becky. One finger hovered over her contacts; the chip on the nail had got bigger. Graham knocked on her desk, grinning.
‘Before I start on the woman – I know who left the tip-off for the warehouse.’
Robyn pushed the phone away. Janice was hovering as well.
‘Graham, this isn’t about Ben. We can’t keep getting distracted.’
‘OK, OK. Don’t you want to guess?’
Robyn sighed. When Graham got like this, he was infuriating. ‘No. Who gave the tip-off?’
Her phone shrilled: Tracey. ‘Hell, I’d better get this.’
Tracey’s voice cut across her greeting. ‘Can you come up to the conference room now?’
‘What’s the problem?’
‘Just get up here. Fell needs you to answer questions.’
Robyn walked up to the fifth floor, giving herself time to run over potential questions. She hoped the sudden feeling of light-headedness was just down to lack of lunch.
As Robyn slid into the conference room, Fell was in full flow, statistics bouncing off the walls, comparing local rates of something to national averages. No one was writing anything down. Although she’d tried to be discreet, Robyn sensed a stir of interest. Khalid rose from his seat at the front and, taking Robyn by the arm, steered her back outside again.
‘Thanks for coming up. The journalists want to talk to you.’
‘About what? Because if questions aren’t about the investigation, I’m not answering them.’ Robyn folded her arms.
‘Robyn …’ It was the first time she’d seen Khalid struggling for words. ‘There have been questions about whether you’re a suitable person to be in charge.’
‘I thought you’d prepared for all this? Do you really mean Fell isn’t willing to confirm it?’
‘This is a high-profile case and it’s attracting a lot of publicity. We must manage in the best way for the Service.’ Khalid pulled the door open so the audience in the conference room could see Robyn.
Robyn didn’t take the chair Khalid gestured at. If she sat, she would be smaller; standing, she could feel at least an illusion of being in control, though there was the question of what to do with her hands. She settled for holding them behind her, which also pulled her shoulders back, making her feel more confident. The room was fuller than usual. She didn’t see Ady at first because he was staring down at his phone.
Fell cleared his throat. ‘As I said, the investigation is being led by Detective Inspector Bailley, an experienced officer. You may ask DI Bailley questions now.’
Robyn registered the lack of a pronoun first, then that Fell had not limited questions to the investigation. There was a flurry of hands going up, then a strident voice cut through the babble from an unfamiliar woman in thick-rimmed glasses.
‘Liz Trew, Daily Journal. DI Bailley, has your personal life affected the investigation in any way?’
Fell’s feet scuffed at the floor. Khalid’s finger swept across the screen of his tablet and hung, poised.
Whatever happened, she mustn’t show any sign of hesitation. ‘No.’ Robyn paused, letting her gaze sweep the room. ‘I’m a career police officer, a detective for nearly twenty years and I’m approaching this case exactly as I have all the cases I’ve worked on.’
There was a low buzz of comment. The journalist hadn’t written anything down. ‘Can you truly say nothing is different?’
Robyn nodded. She was getting the sense she had in an interview, when something shocking was about to come to the surface. ‘Any case involving a child will always get the highest priority and we are doing all we can to find Ben.’
The journalist’s face was in shadow. ‘But how do suspects react, being questioned by a detective in drag?’
There were gasps around the room. Robyn had a sudden rush of grim exhilaration and decided to tell the woman exactly what she thought of her but Khalid had jumped to his feet. ‘Ladies and gentlemen, we are here to talk about the investigation into Benjamin Chivers’ disappearance. Who has the next question, please? Yes, Colin.’
The balding veteran from the regional paper seemed surprised to be chosen. Robyn bit back what she had been about to say and sank onto a seat, conscious of how close she’d been to losing her temper.
‘Can you tell us …?’ Colin broke off when Liz Trew spoke over him.
‘So
you’re not prepared to consider the people you may be offending?’
‘I’m afraid we only have time for two questions per person.’ Khalid turned away from Trew, pointing at Colin. ‘Before we started, Colin asked me whether this crime would mean a review of the planned closures of the remaining village police stations.’
Fell embarked on what promised to be a long answer. Robyn tried to sit still, knowing attention could turn back to her any moment. Tracey, in the front row, tapped the jewelled face of her watch several times until Fell noticed.
‘And we have to conclude, ladies and gentlemen. Thank you for coming to our Open Policing Session. I hope you found it useful.’ Khalid held up a sheet of paper. ‘Ah, yes, I have been asked to remind you about the feedback forms by the exit and we’d be grateful for all your …’
Robyn was already through the door. Seeing the HR Business Partner waiting for the lift, she diverted to the stairs. Down, rubber soles squeaking as she turned each flight, keeping going past the second floor, until she pushed through the back door into the car park. She got her phone out, then stared at it. The secrecy of the last few months had meant she’d kept herself to herself: she had no idea who to call. The muggy air was hotter than the corridor, dark clouds banking overhead. A steady flow of the early shift were heading to their cars, home to forget another day. Robyn returned a few nods, one ‘hello’. It emphasised how few people she really knew in the station.
Sick of missing calls, she’d put the phone’s volume up to maximum. Now, the ring was so loud, she jumped. She fumbled the phone to her ear and managed a hello, before Ady appeared around a corner of the building.
‘Afternoon.’ He slipped his own phone into a pocket. ‘You dashed out of the briefing so I thought I’d give you a call. I could hear your phone ring from the front entrance.’
He held out his hand. Robyn paused for a second. In the years since they were at school together, they’d only ever shaken hands on some sort of milestone. The last time, the occasion had been their first meeting in nearly twenty years, when Ady had interviewed Roger as Meresbourne’s newly-appointed DI. Robyn’s hand met Ady’s, feeling his calluses. ‘You’ve been getting a lot of tennis in.’
Ady smiled and kept on smiling. The handshake was going on for too long. When Robyn relaxed her grip, Ady seemed to focus and shoved his hand into his pocket. His lips opened a few times before he spoke. ‘That must have been …’ He searched for words. ‘Christ, Fell’s a pompous prat and the woman from the Journal’s a grade-one bitch. It’s what she does with everyone, finds a weak spot and pokes it for a reaction.’ He shrugged. ‘Liz Trew has set herself up as this moral crusader against the “tide of filth threatening to engulf our peaceful society”, something along those lines. She’s always …’
Robyn’s hands balled into fists. ‘The way you’ve said it, I’m more of a problem than whoever took Ben.’
Ady folded his arms. ‘No and no, that wasn’t what I meant. I wanted to call you to, well, see if you were OK, maybe go for the beer we always talk about. Now …’ He uncrossed his arms, palms up. ‘I don’t know what I can say.’
Robyn was silent as he turned to go. There was the sinking feeling of a bad mistake. She touched his arm. ‘I’m sorry, Ady.’ The right words wouldn’t come. ‘I just seem to be making a real mess of this and upsetting everyone.’
There was a pause. Ady’s lips creased. ‘I can’t say I understand, because I don’t but whatever you do, don’t go away thinking we’re all like her.’ He turned back towards her. ‘If you do want to tell your story, then we’ll do it properly, present it from your side. We could run a series, get some decent pictures …’
‘Until we find Ben, nothing else really matters, does it?’
Ady shrugged. ‘I guess not. Hey, if you need anything, give me a call, OK?’
‘Thanks.’ Robyn smiled.
‘Well, see you.’ Ady started towards the visitor’s car park. The sun went behind a cloud.
An idea flashed into Robyn’s mind. ‘Ady! Before you go – the Gaddesford festival in May – have you got any pictures?’
Ady turned back, his eyes lifting as he thought. ‘Ah, yeah, probably. Yes, we did a colour supplement covering the weekend.’ He inclined his head. ‘Thought you’d have been out there taking some pictures yourself.’ He stroked his chin. ‘Hang on, this isn’t a plan to enter our pictures into one of your photo competitions, is it?’
Robyn held up her hands. ‘OK, you’ve got me.’ They both smiled, deep creases showing in Ady’s tanned face. ‘No, this is for an investigation. Could you give me the photographer’s details?’
‘Sure. I’ll get them when I get back to the office. What’s your email?’
‘You’ve got my email.’
‘Oh, I thought it would have changed, given … well, OK, I’ve got it then. I hope if you get something useful, you’ll let me in a bit earlier.’ Ady held out his hand again, then pulled back. Robyn watched him walk back to his car. The email address would go onto a long list of things to be changed. Everything would have to wait until they found Ben. No parent, even one as icy as Melissa Chivers, should be deprived of their child. She turned towards the steps to the station then decided she would call Becky now, otherwise she might never get the opportunity. She went to sit in her car.
The sky had darkened but the cockpit was stifling. Robyn propped the phone up on the hot dashboard, to see Becky’s picture as she spoke to her. The phone was answered on the second ring.
‘Hello.’
‘Hello, Becky, thanks for picking up. Am I disturbing you?’
‘You mean other than by announcing to the world you think you’re a woman, no, you’re not disturbing me at all.’
‘Becky …’
‘Yes? What do you want to say to me?’
There were a lot of things she wanted to say. They all sounded stupid. ‘I’m very proud to be your father and I’ll never stop being your father. That’s it.’
One fat drop of water hit the windscreen.
‘That’s it?’ There was a new note in Becky’s voice, more puzzled than sarcastic.
‘That’s it. And I’m sorry for the letter too. I thought if I could see you in person I could tell you. I’d tried to tell you a couple of times over the phone and ended up chickening out. So I wrote to you because I had to tell you and didn’t know what else to do.’
The rain was heavier now. Becky made a noise Robyn hoped was a laugh. ‘I’d worked out you were trying to tell me something. I guessed you were getting married again.’
Thunder sounded overhead. Robyn leant back against the headrest. ‘No. Nothing so simple.’
‘I can’t hear you. What’s happening at your end?’
Rain was hammering on the roof. ‘A storm.’ She paused. ‘I’m going to go now. Could we speak again soon?’
‘Can’t hear you.’
‘Bye, sweetheart.’
She wasn’t sure whether there was a response.
17
A ragged edge of cloud marked the end of the deluge: the rain lost its insistent rhythm, slackened and dribbled to a stop. Robyn’s thumb hovered over the redial button for a long time before she loosened her grip on the phone. Weak sunlight crept across the car park: the car windows were steaming up. She stretched back in the seat then, to give herself a purpose for staying put, switched the radio on for the five o’clock news.
A new witness has come forward in the hunt for missing Meresbourne toddler, Benjamin Chivers. After his mother appealed for his safe return, a witness at Whitecourt Shopping Centre says he saw the child being taken.
The reporter cut to a new voice with a thick accent.
I finish my work and saw a woman pick up this kid. But it was OK, you know, like they were together.
Robyn flung open the car door and splashed back to the station. She ran up the stairs to the second floor, the damp hems of her trousers flapping.
The radio in the incident room was off. Robyn raised her voice. ‘
We need to get down to the shopping centre. There’s a witness, an employee, who saw the woman take Ben. He’s just given an interview to North Kent FM.’
Janice’s eyes widened. ‘Why didn’t he get picked up during the shop-to-shop searches?’
‘Something to ask Phil. Assuming he’s credible, we’ll bring him back and use his description to make up an E-FIT of the woman’s face. We could then run a reconstruction tomorrow morning. Janice, can you organise everything? We’ll need Gillian Green.’ Robyn paused. ‘Well, come on then. Graham, with me.’ And she intended to find out why Graham wasn’t already at the shopping centre, as asked.
As they reached the top of the steps to the car park, Graham already had his keys out. ‘I’m parked over there.’ Too tired to argue, Robyn followed, picking her way around the puddles under blue sky. Graham pulled away, not even waiting for Robyn to fasten her seat belt, slipping into half a gap in front of a bus.
‘So, the tip-off …’
‘Go on then, who and how did you find out?’ Robyn’s right foot stiffened against an imaginary brake pedal.
Graham waited for a bicycle, fingers tapping. ‘Micky Dearman.’
‘No way!’ Her laugh was closer to a snort. ‘Micky is about as likely to help the police as I am to win Miss World.’ She was embarrassed to see spit on the dashboard.
Graham’s jaw clenched, while Robyn forced herself to calm down. After all, she’d upset enough people for one day. ‘Are you sure?’
Graham tapped on the steering wheel. ‘I’ve been speaking to a source of mine who was round at the Dearmans’ place recently and the warehouses were mentioned. There was a lot of talk about what could be done to stop the council granting planning permission.’
‘So why should Micky Dearman ring us?’
Graham adopted the tone he used when doing schools’ visits. ‘Because Micky wants to buy the warehouse back as cheaply as possible.’