by Steven Dunne
Everyone joined in; even Brook managed a thin smile. Normally he would have discouraged such levity about an active investigation but he felt the missing students were an unnecessary distraction.
‘John and I will follow up on the students tonight. Anything else?’
‘Any usable film?’ said Cooper.
‘Local CCTV is trained on the shops further up Normanton Road but Jane will be in the Viewing Room, checking the hour between two and three last night. We may get a shortlist of suspect vehicles, we may not.’
‘What am I looking for?’ asked Gadd.
‘Vans, in particular. And get plates for follow-up if they look dubious.’
‘But we’re still not sure if this is a murder inquiry?’
‘No,’ said Brook. ‘But when people who like to play with dead things are ready to escalate, it’s the next logical step – especially if they run out of fresh corpses.’
‘What I don’t get, right, is – if this guy’s going for cosmetic perfection, why cut open these bums?’ asked Morton. ‘Most of them are in a right state.’
‘That’s the point,’ answered Brook. ‘He’s perfecting his technique on the most expendable members of society.’ An image of Phil Ward sprinting away from him on the track made Brook pause. ‘And let’s not forget these bums may have families. Once they had what you have: lovers, jobs, a future. They’ve lost all of that. Miserable though it may seem to us, all they have left is life, and no one has the right to take it away.’
While Noble knocked on the door, Brook ran his eye over the small, well-maintained suburban garden basking in the golden glow of dusk. A For Sale sign nestled up against the garden wall. The house itself was neat, if nondescript, similar to every semidetached they’d passed on the Brisbane Estate – a comfortable and characterless modern home for a small, hardworking family.
The compact driveway, its garage outgrown by modern vehicles, had two cars squeezed on to it – a sleek black Jaguar tight up against the rear bumper of a battered Nissan Micra. A good metaphor for Poole’s relationship with Alice Kennedy, Brook decided. Poole had money from a generous pension and his former marriage and, even from the briefest encounter with the couple, Brook had gotten the impression that Poole’s relationship with her wouldn’t have existed without it.
‘Come in.’ Poole stood aside to usher Noble into the warmth of the house. ‘Inspector Brook,’ he nodded as Brook entered in turn.
‘Hello, Len.’
‘You remembered me then, Inspector.’
‘I never forget a face.’ Noble turned to raise an eyebrow but Brook ignored it. ‘How’s retirement treating you?’
‘Mustn’t grumble,’ replied Poole. ‘Still driving a Jag,’ he added, as though it were relevant.
Brook followed Poole and Noble into a small, softly lit living room where Alice Kennedy sat on a sofa next to the uniformed Family Liaison Officer already there. The petite Asian officer held a cup and saucer and balanced an untouched plate of biscuits on her lap. Her hat was on the arm of the sofa and her thick black hair had been wound into a tight bun. She looked ill at ease for some reason.
‘Constable.’ Brook nodded at her. Unsurprisingly he had forgotten her name and gave Noble the usual blank stare to prompt his DS to identify their colleague at the earliest opportunity.
‘Can I get you some tea, Detectives?’ asked Alice Kennedy, her voice taut.
‘No, thank you,’ replied Noble. ‘We have … other calls to make.’
‘You mean the other parents, don’t you?’ She dabbed a handkerchief to an eye. ‘I heard. Those poor people.’
‘Has PC Patel brought you up to speed, Mrs Kennedy?’ asked Noble.
‘Yes. You’ve upgraded Kyle’s disappearance to medium risk because it’s been several days.’
‘That’s right. We’re widening the inquiry. We’ll be going to the college to ask questions, and we’ve circulated Kyle’s details and the picture you gave us to the British Transport Police – all the ports and airports are on the lookout for him. We also think it’s wise to email his details to Interpol as well.’ Noble tried to smile reassuringly.
‘Interpol?’
‘It’s an international Police Force, love,’ said Poole.
‘I know what it is,’ she said crossly. ‘But why?’
‘In case he’s jetted off to Ibiza or somewhere. They’ll let us know if he’s left Britain under the radar and slipped into Europe. Our border controls are not the best.’
‘No, no, no. That’s impossible,’ said Alice.
‘Why?’
‘He doesn’t even have a passport.’
Brook and Noble glanced at each other. ‘So it would surprise you to learn that Kyle applied for a passport three months ago?’ asked Noble.
Alice Kennedy looked genuinely stunned. ‘Yes, it would, Sergeant. Are you sure?’
‘According to the Passport Service.’
‘It’s something they check for missing persons over eighteen,’ said Poole, with a pompous sniff. ‘So they know the search parameters.’
‘So he may have been planning a trip.’ Alice’s face brightened. ‘I suppose that’s a ray of hope.’
‘We think it’s significant,’ said Noble.
‘But why didn’t he say anything to me?’
‘As a parent, I have to say it’s not unusual for teenagers to keep things from us.’ A shard of personal anguish infected Brook’s features for a moment but passed just as quickly. ‘And when several young adults disappear together it can point to some kind of trip – sometimes to a festival, a booze cruise, even a holiday.’
‘But it doesn’t make sense. He’s never been abroad before. We could never afford it after the separation.’
‘I was thinking of treating him after his A-levels though,’ interjected Poole. ‘I was putting something aside for him. For a surprise.’ He smiled across at Alice, hoping his assertion of economic well-being would bring comfort. She looked back at him without expression.
‘Wait – wouldn’t Kyle need his birth certificate for a passport?’ asked Alice.
‘Yours too, if it’s his first,’ answered Noble. ‘Would Kyle know where they are?’
‘Of course. I keep everything in the office in a folder. In case something happens to me.’
‘Could you … ?’ prompted Noble. She hurried upstairs to check.
Brook glanced across at Poole. When he thought nobody was watching, the former pathologist was staring at PC Patel. Noble had noticed it too. And without showing she was aware of it, Brook’s uniformed colleague folded her arms across her chest.
‘We wondered whether he’d asked you to endorse his passport photograph, Len?’ enquired Brook.
Poole broke off his examination of Patel’s body. ‘Me?’
‘Well, a family member or a parent isn’t allowed to do it.’
Poole shook his head. ‘He wouldn’t ask me. He’d know I’d mention it to Alice.’
Alice returned to the sitting room deep in thought. ‘They’re there but I can tell they’ve been taken out of the wallet.’
‘What about money? You told the other officer who called that Kyle had his own bank account,’ said Noble.
‘Yes. At Santander. It was a birthday present last year,’ said Alice. ‘I gave the officer the details.’
‘We’ve got them. But there doesn’t seem to be much money in there.’
‘I put fifty pounds in a week ago, Sergeant, but he’ll have spent most of it already,’ said Poole, shrugging his shoulders. ‘Kids, eh?’
‘Is he expecting further funds?’ asked Brook.
‘His EMA was cut but we put in the equivalent every Friday,’ said Alice. ‘Thirty pounds pocket-money.’
‘It’s a direct debit, straight from my account,’ announced Poole. Alice’s face darkened. ‘Should I cancel it?’
‘No,’ said Noble. ‘If he’s in the country, he may try to access the money. It would give us a lead.’
‘What about transport?’ as
ked Brook.
‘Transport?’
‘Does Kyle own a bicycle, for instance?’
‘He does,’ said Alice. ‘It should be in the garage.’
‘It’s still in there, Sergeant.’ Poole nodded. ‘I had it out yesterday. Got to stay trim at my age, you know.’
Brook answered his grin with a faint nod. ‘What about any driving experience?’ he said to Alice.
‘Not even a lesson,’ she replied.
‘I was going to—’ began Poole.
‘Len!’ snapped Alice, her hands splaying in exasperation. Len was puzzled by her outburst but remained silent.
‘What about Kyle’s mood?’ enquired Noble, filling the awkward silence that followed. ‘Maybe he was excited recently, buying new clothes, that sort of thing?’
‘No, nothing like that,’ said Alice. ‘The only thing Kyle was thinking about was his exams. He’s keen to do well. He wants to live in London eventually.’
‘Could he have gone there?’ asked PC Patel, in a high-pitched voice.
‘He doesn’t know anyone in London, so not without money, no.’
‘You told us Kyle’s on Facebook and we have his email account,’ said Noble. ‘Do you know if he’s on any other social network?’
Alice shook her head. ‘You mean Twitter? I wouldn’t have thought so. He’s just too shy.’
Brook nodded. ‘Can we see his room?’
‘Of course.’
‘Perhaps he has luggage missing.’
‘No, I told the other officer.’ She buried her head in the handkerchief wrapped tightly around her bony fingers. ‘It’s no use – Kyle’s dead. I can feel it.’
PC Patel put down her cup and placed her arms around the distraught woman. ‘You mustn’t think like that, Alice. We’re doing all we can. You’ve got to stay positive for Kyle.’
Len Poole ranged up behind Alice to put a pudgy hand on her shoulder but she shook it off.
‘Constable Patel’s right,’ said Noble. ‘And you said yourself, the passport is good news. It means he was planning a trip. There’s every chance he’s fine. He’s not in any of the local hospitals …’
‘He wouldn’t be if he was lying dead in a ditch.’
‘After four or five days in a ditch the chances of finding Kyle’s body would be high,’ said Brook.
‘But if he was alive he would have contacted me. I’m all he has; he wouldn’t let me suffer like this.’
‘But he left his phone, love,’ said Poole. ‘Maybe he can’t contact you.’
‘But why leave his phone? That’s the point, isn’t it?’
‘What about his father in Stoke?’ asked Noble. ‘We’ve contacted him but he claims he’s not seen or heard from Kyle.’
‘That bastard,’ she spat out with surprising venom. ‘He hasn’t seen Kyle for five years, or wanted to, and Kyle would never go near him, the way he rejected us.’
‘But might he contact his father, let him know where he’s going?’
‘Before he spoke to me? No chance. But you’re welcome to ask.’
‘We will,’ said Brook. ‘I notice your house is for sale.’
‘We’re moving to Chester,’ she said. ‘We were there this weekend looking at houses. We’re just waiting for Kyle to finish his exams.’ Her lip began to wobble again.
‘You say he left his phone behind. Have you checked his calls?’ asked Brook.
‘I couldn’t. It’s not working.’
‘Mind if we try?’
She fished around in her handbag and pulled out her son’s mobile. ‘Here. And take his laptop from his room. If you can work out his passwords, maybe there’s an email or—’
‘We’ll send someone to collect it.’
Noble produced an evidence bag even though prints were already compromised. Mrs Kennedy dropped the phone in and Noble tried to turn it on through the plastic.
‘I’d give anything if Kyle was with his father, but he isn’t,’ said Alice. ‘That scumbag dumped us both as soon as he found out …’ She hesitated.
‘… as soon as he found out Kyle was gay,’ finished Brook.
Alice stared at Brook. ‘Yes. How did you know?’
‘Len told Sergeant Grey that Kyle was “sensitive”. I assumed that was code.’
She nodded. ‘Kyle is gay. Or he thinks he is. I was hoping it was just a phase.’
‘But he’s still a nice boy, Inspector,’ chipped in Poole.
‘And why wouldn’t he be?’ demanded Alice.
‘I’m sorry, love, I only meant—’
‘Does he have a boyfriend?’ interrupted Brook.
‘Don’t be disgusting,’ said Alice. ‘He isn’t like that. He isn’t …’
‘What? Active?’
‘Not at all. I know Kyle.’
‘You didn’t know he applied for a passport,’ pointed out Brook.
The tears appeared again and Brook gestured to PC Patel, who provided further comfort. Brook didn’t enjoy this part of the job. Pushing and cajoling the vulnerable was distasteful but experience had taught him that such pressure ensured the best information.
When the tears subsided, Alice Kennedy tried again. ‘You don’t know him, Inspector. He’s kind and gentle and shy. He wouldn’t know how to approach … people … in that way.’
‘So you think he’s still a virgin?’ Remembering the distressing circumstances of his own estranged daughter’s loss of sexual innocence at fifteen, Brook made an effort to soften his tone.
Alice nodded. ‘He would’ve told me. Not that he didn’t fall in love.’
Brook smiled. ‘But from a distance.’
‘Exactly.’
‘And had he fallen in love recently?’
She looked up at him. ‘Yes, Inspector. I think he might have.’
‘Any idea who?’
‘He wouldn’t tell me anything like that.’
‘And might this person have been at Kyle’s party on Friday?’ asked Noble.
‘It’s possible, but I wasn’t there. Besides, it wasn’t a party, it was more of a gathering. He only had a handful of people he was friendly with. People like himself; shy, sensitive. He wasn’t going to bother celebrating at all, but they persuaded him.’
‘They, being?’ Noble held his pen poised over his notebook.
‘You’ve already got all the names I know. And there was only one other boy invited I knew about,’ replied Alice. ‘Russell Thomson. Rusty.’ In spite of herself she giggled then looked round guiltily.
‘What’s funny?’
‘You’re going to ask if Russell could have been Kyle’s …’ She burst out laughing again. ‘No. He is not Kyle’s type,’ she concluded. ‘Rusty is even more shy and introverted than Kyle. He barely speaks when he meets you and when he does, he’s too afraid to even lift his eyes off the ground. He makes Kyle look like Russell Brand, doesn’t he, Len?’
‘It’s true,’ conceded Poole, with a tight smile.
‘And his mum is very pretty, isn’t she, Len?’
‘I haven’t met her,’ replied Poole. ‘You saw her at a school social evening, remember. I wasn’t there.’
‘Russell Thomson?’ Brook raised an eyebrow at Noble, who nodded. They had Thomson’s address. Brook decided not to ask who Russell Brand was.
‘And the two missing girls were also at the party?’ asked Brook.
‘As far as I know,’ replied Alice. ‘We were away. Kyle knows Adele Watson from classes and they sometimes study together. She’s very smart but very serious. She’s a writer – poetry, I think. Well, I’m not surprised. She has everything going for her. And she’s really pretty. She gets on well with Kyle. Well, you know how it is with pretty girls and …’ She tailed off, not wanting to hear the word again. When no one else filled the vacuum, she finally said, ‘Gays.’
‘What about Becky Blake?’ said Noble.
‘I didn’t know her that well,’ replied Alice. ‘We’ve seen her around with that other friend of hers, Fern something. She’s attra
ctive in a cheap sort of way.’
‘Bit full of herself,’ agreed Len. ‘Reckoned she was going to be a model.’ The past tense prompted a discreet glance between the two detectives. ‘Well, if her dad had the final say she’d be a shoo-in. Had the poor sod twisted round her little finger, she did. Nothing too much trouble for her – clothes, the latest phones.’
‘Not the type to get on well with my Kyle,’ added Alice. ‘I’m surprised he invited her, but it takes all sorts. She may have been nicer than we thought.’
‘What about alcohol and drugs?’ asked Noble.
‘I bought Kyle a dozen WKDs from Bargain Booze,’ replied Poole. ‘He could have asked for a lot more and I’d have given him the money, but he isn’t much of a drinker.’
Brook eyed Mrs Kennedy for a reaction but she maintained the face of a stoic. Brook had been right about the basis for their relationship. Almost every time Len Poole opened his mouth it was to proclaim economic dominion over Alice. ‘Mrs Kennedy?’
‘Len’s right,’ she agreed, without looking up. ‘Obviously he’d tried a few things. Don’t they all? But drugs made him feel sick; tobacco too. He drank a lot for a year when he was sixteen and still working things out in his head. Nowadays children have to lay claim to adulthood before they’re ready. It’s so sad. Once he became more adult he had nothing to prove.’
‘And when was the last time you saw Kyle?’
‘I spoke to him on Friday afternoon before we left for Wales, through his bedroom door. I actually saw him last on the Thursday night. He went out with a CD and a poster. He said it was for a friend. Don’t ask me who.’
‘What time was that?’
‘About nine.’
‘What was his mood?’
‘Excited, nervous. About the party, I assumed.’
‘You didn’t see him after that?’
‘No. I heard him come in very late. He just ran up to his room and slammed the door.’
‘So you wouldn’t know what he was wearing last.’
‘Not for sure, but he only ever wore jeans and a T-shirt,’ replied Alice. ‘And a blue G-STAR hoodie to go out in. That’s missing.’
‘What about next-door neighbours?’ asked Brook.
‘Neighbours?’
‘They may have seen something the night of the party.’