by Wonny Lea
PC Lewis moved away from Claire and spoke into his phone, explaining the position to his local sergeant and looking relieved that he was able to pass this one up the line.
Both of them were startled by a sudden wail from the centre of the crowd surrounding Christine Barnes and Claire knew instantly that the almost inhuman sound had come from the woman herself. She pushed her way through the parents and children to find Tina holding a small Lego figure.
‘It’s Jason’s Ron Weasley,’ she screeched, and thrust it in the direction of the child who had discovered it. ‘Where did you find it, Chelsea?’
The little girl cringed at being the centre of everyone’s attention and her bottom lip quivered as tears welled up in her eyes. Claire knelt beside her. ‘It’s OK, Chelsea, you’re not in any kind of trouble and you did really well to find Jason’s toy. Do you think you could show me exactly where it was before you picked it up?’
Chelsea wiped away her tears with the back of her hand, leaving some dirty smudges across her cheeks. ‘It was just by there, Miss. Jason’s mother was nearly sitting on it – it was just by her bum, Miss.’
PC Lewis spoke to the other officers and suggested that people would be better used by continuing to search for Jason and they organised the small crowd into groups each led by an officer. Even before they had sorted themselves out Clive Kane had returned and handed out pictures of the missing boy to the officers. Word had spread of his disappearance and more and more people became involved with the search.
Individuals took a copy of the picture and whole outings forgot about the purpose of their visit and abandoned all thoughts of a day out in order to find a missing child. Claire was moved by the level of concern shown by compete strangers and prayed as she had never done before that their efforts would be rewarded.
With the majority of people off on a mission the only ones left were Tina, Pam, PC Lewis, and Claire. Tina was staring lovingly at the small plastic figure that she was holding as if it represented her son, and PC Lewis was asking her about it.
‘It’s definitely Jason’s, it’s the only figure he’s put together out of the Diagon Alley set I bought him. It’s got over two thousand pieces and it’s meant for a much older child but Jason is Harry Potter mad and thinks he is Ron Weasley just because the two of them have ginger hair and freckles.’
A fresh torrent of tears accompanied her memories of her son and Pam coughed and spluttered as she attempted to light up a cigarette for Tina. ‘God only knows how you can smoke those things,’ she said, handing it over and watching Tina draw long and hard, inhaling the smoke with no difficulty.
It took all three of them to persuade Tina that they should walk back to the museum and wait for news of Jason. She seemed to think that moving from the spot where she had last seen her son was in some way betraying him, but she finally agreed that there was nothing to be gained from just sitting there.
Tea and coffee had been provided but Tina didn’t stay in the room, but walked out of the fire doors to light up yet another cigarette. Pam followed her. She had left her own boys in the care of one of the other parents and was now firmly in the role of best friend and felt able to ask Tina some questions that others were loath to broach.
‘Did you and Jason have an argument? I fight with my lot all the time and I’ve given them all a clip across the ear on more than one occasion. I know it’s not the thing to do these days and the last time I smacked my Ben he threatened to report me. And last week Harry ran away. He didn’t get far ’cos my cousin saw him at the end of our road and brought him home, but they know how to worry you, don’t they?’
Tina nodded. ‘Jason does sometimes say he’s going to find his dad, but he just says it, and we had been talking about his dad but that wasn’t the issue when I walked away from him. We were arguing about food. I wouldn’t even call it arguing, it was just that he was having a strop because he couldn’t go to McDonalds.
‘What are we doing here anyway, just standing around and talking isn’t going to find Jason, is it? We should be out there looking for him.’
Tina looked helpless and her head and shoulders dropped even further as she stared at nothing with eyes that were almost closed with the swelling of tears.
‘There are literally hundreds of people looking for him,’ said Pam quietly as she gripped hold of Tina’s hands. ‘Look, Tina, everyone still thinks Jason is hiding somewhere, and you know what kids are like – he could even have curled up and gone to sleep, but the police don’t want to take any chances so they’ve called in the CID.’
Pam got the reaction she was expecting as Tina’s howls were probably loud enough to have been heard by her son if he was anywhere on the hundred-acre site.
The call that had been made by PC Lewis’ sergeant went through a number of offices and ended with the call from DC Helen Cook-Watts to DCI Phelps.
‘Someone up there must know you’re back, guv, we’ve just been notified about a missing child and the sergeant from St Fagans seems to think he could have been snatched. He was on a school trip with his mother and has been missing for about an hour now, and it seems that panic has really set in.’
‘Don’t tell me any more now, Helen, you can fill me in with whatever else you know on the way. See you in the car park in five minutes.’
En route to St Fagans Helen briefed Martin on what little she knew and they discussed the possible reasons for a child being taken. In their view the worst-case scenario would be a paedophile on the lookout for easy pickings, and such perverts knew that children on school trips were much more likely to be available targets. These monsters had kept up with the desires of youngsters and were less likely to tempt them with sweets as in the past. Some of the recent cases had seen kids seduced by the latest apps on expensive iPads and drawn into conversations on how best to complete the levels of some of the more popular games.
‘There’s so much help given these days to enable them to recognise things that are not quite right but I think we forget that at the end of the day they are just kids and God forbid that we have to teach them to regard every grown-up as a potential enemy.’ Helen looked at the image of Jason that had been sent to her phone and as Martin was driving she described what she saw.
‘He looks as if he was reluctant to pose for the photograph if the sulky expression is anything to go by,’ she said. ‘It’s not possible to see from the picture but apparently he’s of average height for his age and his arms and face are covered in freckles. With that mop of ginger hair he isn’t a child who would fade into the background, and his clothes are very distinctive. None of your supermarket gear for this young man: it’s all genuine designer labels and the background to this picture adds to the money-is-no-object impression. That’s what prompted one of the local officers to think about the possibility that the kid has not just hidden himself away somewhere but may have been deliberately taken.’
Martin interrupted. ‘Are there any issues surrounding the child’s parents? I’m thinking maybe a father who has been denied access. The boy would have gone with his father if he had turned up, wouldn’t he?’
‘I don’t know,’ replied Helen. ‘All the information I got was that the boy’s mother recently had a big win on the lottery and it’s now being considered that her son may have been snatched and could possibly be held to ransom. Have you ever dealt with a kidnapping before?’ she asked Martin.
‘Never,’ he said shaking his head. ‘I hate crimes that involve children, and let’s keep our fingers crossed that this turns out to be a false alarm and that young Jason is already reunited with his mother.’
Helen nodded but thought it was unlikely to be the case, as she had been promised an immediate call if the boy was found and her phone was silent. She had only joined the CID a few months ago and already had under her belt the experience of investigating a serial killer and now a potential kidnapping. Part of her was excited by the prospect of being involved in such a case and she remembered that she had fought down a simil
ar feeling of excitement when she had been called to the first murder of the serial killer. Helen wasn’t proud of her feelings and tried to convince herself that she was not responsible for the crimes and the excitement stemmed from her anticipation of helping to capture the perpetrators.
She had worked with Matt Pryor while Martin had been seconded to the investigation into Vincent Bowen’s conviction but they had only dealt with day-to-day crime – nothing major. Matt would want to be involved with this case if it turned out to be a kidnapping and she mentioned the fact to Martin.
‘He’s going to be meeting us in the St Fagans car park. I flipped a coin to decide whether or not to interrupt his day off but then gave him a call and left the choice to him.’
Martin laughed. ‘It wouldn’t have taken much for him to decide to take work over what he was doing so with a missing child as an excuse he was off the hook.’
‘What was he doing, gardening, decorating, or baby-sitting one of his numerous nieces?’
‘Well, sort of the latter,’ replied Martin. ‘The thing with Matt’s nieces is that there are so many of them, and I think the youngest is only three but the oldest is starting her university course and she’s the one who Matt’s with today. Apparently there’s a jobs fair at the Atrium on the uni campus and they’ve gone along to find a suitable part-time job for Lowri to fit in with her studies. Judging by the conversation between the two of them when Matt got my call I would say that it was a toss-up as to which of them was the most relieved.’
Helen smiled and used the relaxed atmosphere to make a comment and dig for some information. ‘It will be good to be back working with the full team but rumour has it, sir, that there are big changes ahead and you’re likely to be moving onwards and upwards.’
Martin turned his Alfa Romeo away from the Culverhouse Cross junction and seconds later was on Michaelston Road, no more than five minutes from their destination.
As she looked at the suddenly stern face of her boss Helen wondered if she had been a bit cheeky using the situation to fish around, but the jungle drums had been pounding hard over the past few weeks and everyone was keen to know what the future held for the team.
‘At this moment in time I know as much or maybe as little as you do. Everyone is aware that there are going to be some major changes and the merging of some of the departments is almost inevitable, but when it comes to the position of individuals within the new set-up I seriously haven’t got a clue. All I can say is that Chief Superintendent Atkinson has pledged to speak personally to every officer affected by the changes and the various staff organisations are expected to be fully involved. With all that on the agenda, I suspect it’ll be the beginning of next year before the new arrangements are in place. There may be some staff who will choose to take voluntary redundancy, but there will be no compulsory departures, and that genuinely is all I know for the moment.’
Martin had already spotted a black 4x4 and headed in the direction of the tall, tanned figure of DS Pryor, who had arrived just minutes ahead of him and was staring up at the black clouds that were circling above.
‘You look well,’ remarked Helen. ‘I only saw you last Friday but you seem to have shed a good few pounds – and where did you get that tan?’
Matt grinned at Martin. ‘Well, two days surfing in Llantwit Major should have seen me at least a stone lighter, but it was offset by far too much excellent hospitality. But we got addicted to the sport over the weekend and Sarah and I have barely been on dry land for the past two days. She’s back at work this morning and I got roped into going with my niece to some job fair. If you listen carefully you will probably hear Lowri and her friends cheering at my departure – I was certainly cramping her style!
‘What’s all this about?’ he asked Martin. ‘You mentioned a missing boy and the possibility of foul play but have we got anything else?’
The three of them made their way to the front entrance of the museum and were greeted by PC Lewis, who had been told to expect their arrival.
Helen had previously met Alan Lewis at a training session and so she facilitated the introductions.
‘It’s been well over an hour now since the boy was last seen and there must be hundreds of people who are now involved in the search. We all thought it was just a childish prank to begin with but my own suspicions were aroused when Jason’s mother showed me the photograph she had taken this morning.’
PC Lewis went on to describe the setting of the picture and to pass on the information he had been given by Miss Masters regarding the mother’s lottery win. ‘That puts her in a position to be able to pay a sizeable ransom for the release of her son and apparently her win has never been a secret, so loads of people know.’
‘What about other family members?’ Martin asked. ‘Is Jason’s dad around?’
‘I spoke to two of the teachers and they both agreed that they had never seen another member of Jason’s family and when we asked Tina, that’s what everyone calls his mother, she said it was just her and Jason.’
‘Where is she now?’ Martin questioned.
PC Lewis pointed in the direction of the room Tina had gone into and Martin turned to Matt.
‘I suggest that PC Lewis takes you to the place where Jason was last seen and that Helen and I go and speak to the mother. It seems ludicrous to suggest taping off the area as it sounds as if the world and his wife have already trampled over it, but do whatever you think and get some advice from Alex Griffiths.’
Matt nodded and walked off with PC Lewis. Alex was the head of the local SOC team and could find a needle in a haystack, so Matt put through a call to him.
‘Hi, mate,’ was the immediate response. ‘Don’t tell me, the dynamic duo are back together and need my help – see you as soon as.’
Chapter Four
It’s murder
‘Shut that bloody kid up or I will,’ screamed Susan Evans. ‘I mean it, his constant bawling is doing my head in. Can’t you give him some more of my sleeping tablets? On second thoughts perhaps a smash across the head would be quicker. For the love of God, will you shut up, you stupid little freak?’
Susan accompanied her demands with a wine glass that she threw in Jason’s direction, missing the boy but smashing to pieces just above his head.
The result was an even louder noise from Jason who screamed that he wanted his mother and seemed distraught to have been separated from Ron.
‘Who the bloody hell is Ron?’ shouted Susan directing her question towards the man who was eating a sandwich made from chunks of cheese and pickle barely contained within two pieces of white sliced bread. ‘I thought you said the kid didn’t have any brothers or sisters. Maybe his mother will be less concerned about him if there are more of them – maybe she won’t want him back.’
Although he was sobbing loudly Jason heard the woman’s words and the thought of his mother not wanting him was too much. He kicked at the leg of the table in front of him and the whole thing collapsed, causing the remains of a jar of pickle to collide with a bottle of gin as it joined a tub of butter and two mugs sliding almost in slow motion towards the floor.
Jason was terrified by the result of his actions and knowing that it would spell big trouble for him he tried to make himself disappear by covering his face with his hands and keeping totally still and quiet.
Still and quiet were not two words that could in any way be attached to Susan as she leapt from her seat and rescued her gin but not before at least a few measures of her favourite liquid had been swallowed by the thin brown carpet. ‘Fucking hell, the boy’s a bloody nutter,’ she screamed. ‘Get those bloody boots off him before he does any more damage.’
With her one hand clasped firmly around the neck of the dark green gin bottle she raised the other hand and was about to strike Jason when her shoulders were grasped from behind. Dan Painter was not a tall man, but he was strong and with very little effort he turned Susan away from the boy and forced her to face someone far less vulnerable.
&nb
sp; ‘You know the rules, bitch,’ he shouted into her face. ‘The kid is our ticket to his mother’s money but not if he’s damaged goods. We may have to give her proof that her son is alive and pictures of him covered in bruises from your fists won’t be much help.’
The very mention of money calmed the situation and Susan shrugged off the hands that were still holding her shoulders and returned to her seat. There was no table in front of her now and no glass for her gin and so she took a large swig from the bottle.
‘For Christ sake, lay off that stuff,’ shouted Dan. ‘You’re supposed to be here to keep an eye on the kid when I go and do things like picking up the ransom money. If I hadn’t put a stop to it you would have laid into him just now, so how can I trust you, especially if you get drunk. Maybe we should just forget about the whole thing and let Jason go and maybe I should never have let you talk me into it in the first place.’
‘Maybe, maybe, maybe,’ mocked Susan. ‘Maybe was the only word you knew before you met me. It’s me who’s changed ‘may be’ into ‘can be’, if it was left to you nothing would ever have been done.’
Dan looked at Susan and at the chipped scarlet nails that still held the gin bottle and not for the first time regretted having told her that he was Jason’s father. He was at least twenty years older than her but Jason’s very existence was testament to the fact that Dan liked younger women.
Tina was the daughter of Mike, one of Dan’s drinking pals, and it had not been unusual for the two men to finish a Saturday night session at Mike’s house with Tina providing their preferred feast of beans on toast. Although Dan was the same age as Tina’s father he was in much better shape and generally thought to be a good-looking man and he was aware that Tina was attracted to him. She puzzled him and he quite often asked Mike why she wasn’t out enjoying herself on a Saturday night instead of hanging around the two of them. His mate’s reply was always the same, suggesting that Tina was saving herself for Mr Right and had inherited her lack of interest in sex from her mother.