‘Just letting you know, Sergeant West, we’ve turned up nothing so far. There are too many people cycling now for anyone to notice one unremarkable cyclist. Edwards finished the canvass of the roads between the shop and the house and it was the same there. We’re going to keep at it for a couple more hours and then call it a day. Just thought I’d let you know before you headed off to Bang Bangs!’
West smiled and shook his head. There was no getting out of it, was there? He thanked Jarvis and hung up. A pot of coffee sufficed for breakfast, especially since, once again, the cupboard was bare, shopping being on the very short list of things he had planned to do this morning.
Dusting, vacuuming and ironing he left to a very pleasant and obliging woman called Beth who came every Monday for three hours. He just had to get the stuff washed. That or buy more shirts and underwear which he had done before on more than one occasion so that he now had in excess of eighty shirts. Ridiculous, his sister had said, on one of her infrequent sleep-over’s. She was right, he supposed. It was ridiculous to buy more clothes when all he had to do was put his dirty laundry into the washing machine. He’d been better since he came to Greystones. How much was due to better organisation or to the wonderful Beth or just to the fact there was nowhere local to buy the shirts he liked, he wasn’t sure.
Supermarket shopping was on the list of things he hated and he only went when his need outweighed his reluctance. Today was definitely one of those days. List in hand he arrived at Dunnes’ with the intent of getting the deed done as quickly as possible. He would have been in and out in fifteen minutes if he hadn’t spied Kelly Johnson at the end of an aisle pushing a shopping trolley. He stopped under the guise of examining some fruit and watched her.
She had her hair loose and it fell forward when she bent to look at something she had taken from the shelf. Then she straightened and tossed her hair back over her shoulder. No jeans today, he noticed, wondering if she were dressed up for a particular reason, noticing the striking knee high boots and jewel coloured short dress.
A woman cleared her throat just to his right and West turned, apologised and got out of the way, taking a large bunch of banana and putting them into his trolley, wondering idly what on earth he would do with them before moving on quickly as Kelly vanished from sight.
He threw the odd item he needed into his trolley if he saw it but was far more intent on watching Kelly as she walked slowly through the shop. He felt like a stalker. ‘I suppose I am,’ he muttered, picking up a loaf of bread, uncaring as to whether it was brown or white, sliced or not.
I’m being ridiculous, he thought, pathetic and ridiculous. Then as he saw Kelly heading down another aisle, he changed directions, walked quickly back down the aisle he had come up and joined hers from the other end.
She was examining something so he made his way toward her and then stopped and picked a packet of something, he didn’t know what, off the shelf in front of him, putting it into his trolley and then moving too quickly and accidently-on-purpose bumping his trolley into hers.
‘Sorry,’ he said, and then with surprise, ‘Ms Johnson, hello.’
‘Hello,’ she replied with a cool nod, dropping an item into her trolley and preparing to move off but trapped momentarily by two trolleys blocking her way.
‘It’s a bit crazy in here today, isn’t it?’ West tried. As a smooth sophisticated conversational gambit it was up there with What’s up Doc? But to his relief she smiled.
‘You shopping for your girlfriend?’ she asked.
He frowned. ‘No, no I’m just getting a few things for home. There’s no girlfriend.’
‘Sister?’
This conversation wasn’t going the way he wanted. Puzzled by her insistence that he was shopping for a woman, he tried again. ‘No, there’s just me and the dog.’
She smiled again and, as the two trolleys in front of her finally moved out of her way, she prepared, once more, to head off. ‘I’m not a detective, Sergeant West, so perhaps I’m wrong but your trolley is contradicting you.’
He looked into his trolley as she walked away and he felt the blush begin at his toes and work its way quickly to his cheeks where it lingered. Looking around surreptitiously, he lifted the large box of tampons out and replaced them on the shelf.
Smooth, sophisticated, oh yes, he thought as he paid for his shopping and left the supermarket without seeing her again.
What must she have thought, he wondered, as he unpacked the stuff he had bought. And what on earth was he going to do with the jar of pickled onions, the tin of custard powder and the large bunch of bananas he appeared to have bought. The first two he put on the shelf of an empty kitchen cupboard. The bananas he put in a bowl and put the bowl in the middle of the walnut table. He’d try to remember to eat them. At least he hadn’t bought the blasted box of tampons. Lord Almighty, what must she have thought?
Trying, once again, to put all thoughts of Kelly Johnson out of his mind, he headed out again, resigned to a few noisy and wearisome hours in the company of a pack of small boys.
He’d arranged to meet Andrews and his family in Bang Bangs! at two. He arrived just before the hour to see Andrews surrounded by what seemed like hundreds of very small, incredibly noisy children. Joyce Andrews, spotting him first headed in his direction dragging an obviously reluctant Petey by one hand.
‘Mike!’ she called over the clamour of voices, ‘this was so kind of you. Wasn’t it Petey?’
Young Petey, well primed, trotted out his thanks before disappearing back into the mêlée from whence he had come.
Joyce laughed. ‘The social niceties are beyond a five year old, Mike, but he really is delighted with this. He’ll be the envy of his class for a long time, you know.’
‘It’s hard for me to know what to buy him, Joyce. Organising this was an easy way out, honestly.’
‘It was very kind. And even kinder of you to come yourself. Pete will be glad of the company and, to be honest, the help. Keeping twenty one, five year olds under control isn’t an easy task.’
West smiled. He liked Joyce a lot. For the first time he was honestly pleased he had come. Not for the first time he acknowledged how important his friendship with the Andrews’ family had become, how much he gained from it and how rare it was he had a chance to do something in return. He just wished he had thought of it before and didn’t have the lingering sting of guilt irritating the hell out of him.
The manager, Ian, said all the right things and the gang of boys and girls were let loose in the playroom. The two hours flew by and, if West didn’t exactly enjoy himself, it wasn’t as bad as he had expected either. All the children appeared to enjoy themselves if their screams of pleasure were any indication. The play-hour was followed by an hour of eating party food most of which West had never seen before and could not bring himself to try. He guessed every letter of the alphabet was in the ingredients, if the variety of colours was anything to go on.
‘Won’t they throw up if they eat all that?’ he asked Andrews who stood nearby eyeing his son with pride.
‘Without a doubt, but hopefully not until they are on their way home and someone else has to mop it up.’
‘Don’t worry, Mike,’ Joyce added with a grin, ‘the parents will come equipped with plastic bags and towels. We warned them.’
The arrival of the respective parents sent the noise level stratospheric as each child, in increasingly high-pitched squeals, regaled his parent with the adventures they had had during the afternoon. Some of the children, looking more than a little green, were wrapped up in their coats and quickly taken away. Thanks were shouted backwards and forwards. Joyce chatted to some of the mothers, Peter to some of the fathers. The children chatted to their parents, to each other and to the staff. The general hubbub was chaotic and good-natured.
West stood to one side and breathed a sigh of relief, it was almost over. He was exhausted. Give me a crime scene any day, he thought. He felt a headache start between his eyes, wondered how soon h
e could make his escape. Where did parents get their energy? He looked over at Andrews with a new respect.
The noise level dropped incrementally as each child was claimed and taken away. West, deciding he had more than played his part, was about to make his own farewells when a voice, laced with worry rose above the clamour.
‘Jake? Jake?’ the voice called loudly, causing each adult present to look toward the source. The tone was recognisable. The terror of loss.
A harried-looking woman ran forward. ‘Have you seen Jake?’ she cried, her eyes darting, assessing each child, dismissing each in turn. ‘I can’t find Jake.’ She spun on her heels, ran toward a staff-member and grabbed him frantically. ‘My son Jake, I can’t find him.’
Both West and Andrews sprang into action. They knew if the child had been taken the faster they acted the better the chance they had of finding him. They quickly sent a staff-member to each exit and sent for the manager. He arrived within minutes and organised other staff to search the building.
‘There are other play rooms occupied. He may have just wandered into one,’ he explained to the tearful mother. ‘Some children just don’t want to go home.’ He patted her arm gently. ‘It’s happened before. I’m sure we’ll find him safe, don’t worry.’
‘Where did you see him last?’ West asked quietly.
‘I was chatting to Alice Bradley and Jake was talking to his friend Ben, Alice’s son. When they left, a couple of the other mothers came over for a chat and we were going to leave together but when I turned around he was gone.’
‘You’re sure he didn’t leave with his friend?’
She looked at him expectantly, a glimmer of hope appearing. ‘You think he might have?’ She shook her head then, ‘No, Alice would never have done that without telling me, she is very careful.’
The staff began returning from their varied searches and West saw a look of concern appear on the manager’s face. He glanced his way and, suddenly West knew it had become a police matter. Andrews intercepting the look and understanding the situation as quickly as West, walked to his side. Together they walked to where the manager stood.
‘There’s no sign of him,’ Ian whispered as they approached, his eyes glancing to where the mother now sat, hand in hand, with one of the other mothers.
‘Ok,’ West began, ‘we’d better take over, Ian.’
The relief on the young manager’s face was almost comical. ‘What would you like me to do?’ he asked, ready to be of assistance now that someone else bore the brunt of the responsibility.
West thought quickly. ‘A complete list of everyone who was here today, phone numbers and addresses if you have them. A list of all staff who were here today and a separate list of staff who work here but weren’t on duty. A lay-out of the building, if you have one, would be helpful.’
Ian nodded. ‘I’ll get all that, quick as I can. We have a floor-plan, I’ll bring it.’
West nodded and waited until he had gone before turning to Andrews with a worried frown. ‘You ok, Peter?’ he asked, seeing how pale the man had gone.
Andrews nodded without speaking and West continued, ‘I’ll ring it in. We need more manpower. Will you try contact that Alice Bradley, check that the boy hasn’t gone with her. If not, ask her did she see him with anyone or if she saw anyone suspicious.’
Andrews headed off, stopping to give his wife a reassuring hug in passing.
West rang the station and a short conversation resulted in the arrival, several minutes later, of all the available staff including Jarvis and Baxter who had returned to the station after concluding their earlier canvass of their allotted section of Foxrock.
They quickly organised a complete search of the building each armed with a copy of the floor plan provided by Ian. Every room. Every corner of every room was searched but the result was the same. Two officers interviewed all the remaining parents and children. The questions were the standard: Did you see Jake Mathews? When did you see him last? Did you see anyone you didn’t recognise? Did you see anyone suspicious?
The answers were the same. No-one had seen anything.
Other officers contacted the parents who had already left. Again, no-one had seen anything.
Parents were allowed leave with their children as soon as their interview was over and, as they did, each child was held just that little bit tighter.
Joyce Andrews, her own arm tight around her small son, sat with Anna Mathews until raised voices at the door announced the arrival of her husband.
‘What kind of a place is this?’ he shouted angrily as he arrived, ‘how can my child just disappear? Where was all the staff? What kind of security system has this place got? And you,’ he rounded on Andrews, ‘you were supposed to be looking after him.’ Andrews held his gaze, saying nothing, and then reached out and held the man’s arm.
‘We’ll find him, Joe, I promise.’
The fear that had gripped Joe Mathews since the earlier phone call informing him of his son’s disappearance bubbled to the surface and the anger dissipated leaving him pale and shaking. He turned, his eyes seeking his wife, finding her and meeting her eyes in a heartrending glance. He moved, as if in a trance, and sat beside her and held her hand in a grip so tight it hurt but it was a pain she welcomed, replacing the numbness she had felt since Jake went missing.
West and Andrews stayed put, receiving reports from the search team as they searched the premises and then outlying buildings. A makeshift incident board had been set up and to this they pinned the reports as they came, intent on covering every base, knowing how very easy it was to miss the crucial detail that could find the child safe and well.
‘Edwards is checking the CCTV tapes, Mike. It’s a short window, it won’t take long.’ Andrews said as West checked the area map to co-ordinate the next search area.
West nodded and pointed to the map. ‘This building is surrounded by small businesses with garages, outhouses, and sheds of all sorts. We’re going to need a lot more manpower.’
‘Some of the parents who were here are coming back to help,’ Andrews replied, the strain becoming evident in his voice, a grim look on his face, ‘they can cover the roads and lanes, leave our lads to search the buildings. Sergeant Blunt is contacting off-duty officers to come in, they should be here soon. We’ll get the area covered.’
‘We’ll find him, Pete.’ West said with as much conviction as he could manage trying to ignore the pain of knowledge in the other man’s eyes. A knowledge that he saw in almost every officer who reported to help, they had seen too much, knew too much. If they hadn’t found Jake by now...
He couldn’t get the idea out of his head that a gift made with the wrong intention was doomed from the start. He’d thought he had got away with it, didn’t he? Was even priding himself on his great idea. Well it didn’t seem such a great idea now. Next time he was being a thoughtless idiot he’d just apologise and leave it at that.
Just when he thought the day couldn’t get worse, the door opened and in walked someone he definitely didn’t want to see again today. He closed his eyes. Maybe he was seeing things.
He wasn’t.
Kelly Johnson walked determinedly toward him, a set look on her face, her eyes flitting between him and the parents of the missing boy seated behind him.
‘Sergeant West,’ she started before he interrupted brusquely, ‘Let me guess? You’re here from Offer?’
She nodded slightly and moved past him to introduce herself to Joe and Anna Mathews, pulling up a chair to sit in front of them.
‘This is all I bloody need!’ West bit out.
Edwards, approaching to fill West in on the CCTV footage, was taken aback. ‘I’m s...sorry,’ he stuttered, ‘I thought you’d want the results of the CCTV as soon as possible.’
West looked at him, confused, ‘What? Oh, sorry,’ he said, ‘I didn’t mean you.’ He shook his head. ‘Something else. Never mind.’ He nodded toward the back of the room, further away from the distraught parents, further from Ke
lly Bloody Johnson too.
‘Well?’ he asked, seeing barely contained excitement in the younger man’s face.
‘It didn’t take long, Sarge. It was a very short window. You can clearly see someone take young Jake by the hand. Ian, the manager recognised him. She pointed toward a door behind and he went with her without hesitation.’
‘Her?’ West questioned.
Edwards nodded emphatically. ‘She wore a shawl or scarf or something over her head and was wearing pants but it’s a woman, I’d swear it is.’
‘Not a man dressed up?’ West said.
Edwards took a breath and considered what West asked, then shook his head decisively. ‘A woman. It’s not any one thing. Her hand when she reaches for the boy’s, her shape, her height.’
‘Let’s look at it together,’ West said. ‘I don’t doubt you but another viewing and two sets of eyes might see more.’ He spotted Andrews coming in the door, gave him a wave. Three sets of eyes would be even better.
Back in the manager’s office they ran the tape, and then ran it again. They froze frames, peered, moved on, froze again. West swore quietly. The tape had been wiped and reused, he guessed. As a consequence the footage was poor, verging on the damned useless.
‘I think you’re probably right though,’ West said after the second viewing. ‘Most likely a woman. But she is keeping herself pretty well covered.’
‘Judging from the height difference with young Jake, I reckon her to be about five five, Mike,’ Peter Andrews said.
West agreed. ‘Right, contact all the search-party teams. Tell them Jake may be with a beshawled woman of medium height. Make sure everyone is updated. It’s not much. But we have to go with what we have.’
Leaving Edwards to sort that out, West headed back to where the parents still sat, Kelly holding a hand of each. She was speaking, he could see, both parents listening intently. Whatever she was saying, they seemed calm. Maybe there was something in this victim support group after all. Certainly he could ill-afford to take someone off the search to sit with them.
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