by Kerry Watts
Jessie wondered how Theresa had managed to get so far with no money or proper shoes – she only had some light trainers on her feet, which were soaked through. How many people must have seen her yet stood by and done nothing? At least Dianne had offered her a lift.
Theresa pulled the chair in the corner forward and sat down, saying nothing but staring intently in Jessie’s direction. She still hadn’t quite got the measure of this woman yet, but she seemed to know her name. Yet Theresa couldn’t recall when or even if she’d ever met her before. Her mind had been so fuzzy recently.
‘Where’s my sister? Dianne said the ambulance brought her here.’ Theresa tugged at her hair as she rambled quickly, twisting and twirling it around her fingers. ‘When can I see Claire? Dianne said she had a seizure, but Claire doesn’t have seizures any more. I tried to tell her that, but she called me a liar.’ Theresa dropped her hair from her fingers and shot up at the sound of her mother’s voice in the corridor.
‘Shit,’ Jessie muttered and followed Theresa out.
‘Theresa! How— What on earth are you doing here?’ Phil Moran moved forward but was swept aside by Bridget.
‘You should be ashamed of yourself, Detective,’ Bridget shot a glance of disgust at Jessie and wrapped her arm round Theresa’s shoulders before removing her own jacket to swaddle her. ‘Can’t you see my daughter is unwell? Come on, I’ll take you back, sweetheart.’
‘But Mum, I need to see Claire,’ Theresa tried to protest. ‘I need to explain.’
‘Nonsense,’ Bridget interrupted. ‘You need to come back to hospital with me. You’re not well, darling, remember? Your mind has been all muddled up and the hospital is going to help you get it unmuddled again.’
Dylan joined Jessie, her disappointment morphing into frustration as they both watched the couple usher Theresa out of accident and emergency. Jessie shook out her hair again and roughly redid it into a messy bun.
‘Shit,’ she muttered again.
‘Did she say anything at all to you?’ Dylan asked.
‘Nothing that made much sense.’ Jessie shook her head. ‘Bridget is keeping something from us. I know she is.’
‘You think she knows something, don’t you?’
‘Damn right I do.’ Jessie sighed. ‘That family… I don’t know, Dylan, there’s something not right going on here.’
Dylan opened his mouth to answer but closed it when Darren stumbled out of Claire’s side room, his ashen face staring straight ahead.
Jessie jogged closer and stood in front of him. ‘Darren, what’s happened?’
He continued to stare past her until she rested her hand on his arm. He opened his mouth to speak but could only mutter something inaudible at her.
‘It’s OK, you can tell me,’ Jessie urged. ‘Is Claire OK?’
Darren’s mouth gaped open and he struggled to form the words. ‘Sh-she…’ he stammered. He turned to peer back in through the small pane of glass in the side room door then collapsed to his knees, his trembling legs giving way beneath him. Jessie shot a concerned look in Dylan’s direction before crouching low next to Darren. She rested a hand on his shoulder.
‘Tell me,’ she whispered. ‘It’s OK to tell me.’
Darren pressed his temples in his hands. He shook his head, a look of horror growing on his face. Dylan peered into the room, and saw Claire curled up on the bed, sobbing and holding her head. He could hear her mutter what sounded like ‘I’m so sorry’ over and over into the pillow. His eyes widened at Jessie and he nodded to the room. Jessie shook her head. She didn’t want anyone to move until Darren had told her what was going on. She rubbed her thumb back and forth on Darren’s shoulder.
‘It’s OK,’ she whispered again, this time offering him a smile and nod. ‘You can tell me.’
Darren frowned. ‘But it’s not OK. Nothing will ever be OK again. She says she might have killed him.’
Forty
When Darren had finished recounting his conversation with his wife, Jessie had to work hard to hide her shock. She knew Claire was troubled, but neither she nor Dylan had expected this.
‘What’s going to happen to my wife?’ Darren asked, his thumb and forefinger pinching the inner corners of his eyes. Jessie helped him into one of the chairs outside the room.
‘Are you sure that’s what she said?’ Jessie asked.
‘Yes, I’m sure.’
Jessie peered through the side room window and exhaled loudly, her face serious. She turned to look at Darren before pulling out her phone without answering his desperate question.
‘Excuse me just a minute, will you?’ she nodded to Dylan to take care of him before walking out of earshot with her phone.
Dylan struggled for words. Claire’s part confession was a shock to him, let alone Darren. She hadn’t said she’d killed Finlay in so many words. More that she was scared because she couldn’t remember whether she had. Darren stood and Dylan watched him stare in at Claire with tears in his eyes.
‘How could she?’ Darren stuttered, barely able to form a full sentence. ‘My little boy.’
Dylan was relieved to see Jessie walk back towards them. She laid a hand on Darren’s shoulder and he spun to face her. He rubbed at his wet face with the bottom of his polo shirt.
‘I’ve arranged for a police officer to come and sit with Claire until she is given the all-clear to be discharged.’
Darren’s brow fell into a frown. ‘What happens after that?’
Jessie wished she could spare him any further pain, but that was impossible.
‘Your wife has just confessed to you that she might have killed your son.’ She kept her voice low and spoke close to Darren’s ear. ‘Claire will be taken to the station to be questioned. Do you understand what I’m saying?’
Darren glanced back into the room and shook his head. ‘Yes, I understand,’ he whispered. ‘I understand completely.’
Before Jessie could add that he would also need to be questioned further, her phone buzzed in her pocket. She moved away from Darren to take the call in private.
‘Hello, DI Blake speaking.’ Jessie listened intently to what the woman was telling her. ‘Yes, thank you for calling back. It’s about your niece, Dianne Davidson.’
Jessie explained to the woman on the phone what had happened, and the woman sounded genuinely concerned about it. She asked if Dianne was OK, and said that if there was anything else she could help Jessie with she should call her without hesitation.
That’s all well and good, Jessie thought. But denying knowing anything about Finlay while a baby is clearly crying in the background? That’s alarming. She hung up without alerting the woman to her concerns. The last thing she wanted was to spook her into hiding the baby. She looked back down the corridor and saw that the PC had arrived to wait with the Lucases.
‘Dylan,’ Jessie called out, and waved for him to join her. She told him about what she’d heard in the background at Dianne’s aunt’s house.
‘What’s happening?’ Darren called out to them and tried to follow as they headed towards the exit.
Jessie stopped and turned. ‘Wait here, Darren. If there’s any developments I’ll let you know, OK?’
‘But what’s—’ Darren stammered.
‘Just trust us, Darren.’ Jessie patted his arm.
All Darren could manage was a nod, despite the multitude of questions he must have had screaming inside him. Jessie hated leaving him like that, but she didn’t want to tell him anything until she was sure herself.
She unlocked her Fiesta while talking to a colleague at the station. Getting a photo of Finlay to officers in Kirkwall as soon as possible was the priority right then. She tossed her phone into Dylan’s hands as she reversed out of the hospital car park.
‘If she’s done this then she’s a good liar, I’ll give her that,’ Dylan announced. ‘Do you think Colin knows?’
‘Aye, they’re both up to their necks in it.’
Forty-One
PC Naomi Carmich
ael put on her hat after getting out of the patrol car and pulled the photo of Finlay Lucas out of her pocket. She scratched the enthusiastic border collie’s ear when it barked and leaped up to greet her, before pausing to peer through the window of the brand-new Mercedes parked outside the front door of the cottage. She spotted the baby seat straight away.
‘Och, who’s this now?’ As her security light was activated, the woman peered out through the blinds and was surprised to see the young police officer being pursued by Meg the border collie all the way up to her door.
‘Who is it, Mum?’ A blond man in his early thirties looked up at the confusion on her face while he fed a bottle of milk to the baby in his arms.
‘It’s a policewoman. What is she wanting?’ She turned to face her son, worried by the serious expression on the officer’s face.
‘Well, you won’t know until you answer it, will you?’ her son teased. ‘You robbed a bank or something?’ He laughed.
‘Och, you’re terrible.’ She flicked a tea towel in his direction just as the loud knock sounded on the front door. ‘Mebbe it’s aboot Dianne.’ She answered the door.
‘Hello, Mrs Sutherland? I’m PC Carmichael. Would you mind if I come in?’
Betty Sutherland held the door wide open for the officer. ‘Of course. Whit’s all this aboot?’
PC Carmichael glanced at Finlay’s photo as she moved closer to the baby, now sat up giggling on the man’s knee.
‘Police on the mainland, in Perth, are very concerned with the whereabouts of a baby linked to your niece, Dianne Davidson.’
‘I know, I’ve spoken to a detective about this already. I told her I didn’t know anything about a missing baby.’
PC Carmichael shifted her eyes from Betty to the baby. The man quickly grasped what was going on and turned the child to face the officer.
‘This is Archie Sutherland. My son. My mum has been babysitting while my wife and I have had to travel for work. It was all a bit last-minute.’
‘Aye, and I had to take him to Aberdeen Royal for my anaesthetic assessment, didn’t I?’ Betty directed that statement towards her son.
‘I know, and I’ve said I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.’
The officer held the photo close to the baby’s face, but his brown eyes and mass of dark brown curls had already given away the fact that he was not Finlay Lucas.
Forty-Two
Dianne Davidson laid her iron down and lifted Colin’s shirt off the board before carefully draping it across one of the dining chairs. She heard a car pull up outside and looked out to see DI Blake and DC Logan approaching the front door. She switched the iron off at the wall, closed her eyes and sighed before opening the front door.
‘Hello, Detectives. Come in.’
‘Thank you, Dianne,’ Jessie greeted her as she followed Dylan inside.
Dianne smiled, despite the horrible darkness that was building inside her stomach.
‘Go straight through to the kitchen. Don’t mind Benson. He’s always just pleased to see people.’ Dianne nibbled on her thumbnail as she joined the two detectives. ‘What can I do for you?’
‘I’ve spoken to your aunt,’ Jessie stated.
‘That’s good, then, she told you—’
Before Dianne could finish, Jessie’s phone buzzed in her jacket pocket. She was pleased to see the Kirkwall station number. Hopefully with good news.
‘Just a second, will you please excuse me? I have to take this.’
Dylan and Dianne sat in silence while Jessie took the call in the hall, Benson rubbing his face into Dylan’s trouser leg for attention. Dianne smiled awkwardly and scratched the back of her head.
Jessie re-entered the kitchen. ‘OK, thanks then, bye. Thanks for letting me know.’
‘What’s happened? Is it Finlay?’ Dianne was scared by the deflated expression on Jessie’s face. ‘Tell me.’
Jessie stared from Dianne to Dylan and stuffed her phone back down into her pocket.
‘It’s not him,’ she whispered.
The Davidsons’ door closed behind Jessie and Dylan as they walked across the gravel drive back to Jessie’s car. She really had hoped they’d made a breakthrough. At least if Finlay was on Orkney he was most likely being cared for, especially as the woman suspected of having him was Dianne’s family. Dianne clearly adored Finlay, and appeared as concerned as his own parents about his disappearance. Jessie unlocked her car but stood outside the driver’s door and stared back at Dianne’s shadow, watching from behind the curtain. It was now over forty-eight hours since Finlay had last been seen. The critical period between finding a missing person and the unthinkable. The presence of the McCabes’ garage van on Kintillo Road, near the Lucases’ bungalow, needed further investigation as a matter of urgency.
‘What now, Jess?’ Dylan asked when she finally got in the car.
‘The McCabes’ van. They didn’t mention that, did they?’
‘Do you reckon they’re hiding something?’ Dylan asked.
‘What do you make of them? The letters to Martin and stuff?’ Jessie remarked.
‘Aye, they’re capable of the letters for sure. But they’ve lost a sister, grieved for their mum.’ He shook his head. ‘If they’re involved in this, they haven’t hurt him. Tim looked genuinely shocked, too. You’d have to be a pretty good actor to fake that.’
‘Stranger things have happened, Dylan.’
Jessie started the engine, but before she was even in gear her phone buzzed again.
‘DI Blake,’ she answered. Her stomach lurched at the words she was hearing. Nausea rose in her stomach and she wanted to be sick right there.
Dylan stared across at her, alarmed by the expression on her face. She saw him staring at her, anticipating the response she didn’t want to give. She shook her head slowly. This was the call they had been dreading.
Forty-Three
Jessie tugged up the hood on her forensic suit and moved slowly towards the taped-off area. Street lighting from the outskirts of the village barely reached the scene. An eerily silent crime scene. Her hopes for a positive outcome had been smashed in an instant. One phone call had changed the entire investigation. A shocked dog walker had called the emergency services after finding a tiny body tucked into a bag and hidden neatly under a pile of large twigs. She wouldn’t have found him had it not been for the persistent barking from her Great Dane.
This never got easier. Jessie pressed the mask hard against her face as she approached the floodlit clearing on the dense, tree-lined path. She asked Dylan to join the fingertip search with the other officers, which would stretch along the entire length of the woodland path once daylight returned. An area of four miles between Bridge of Earn and the edge of Perth. She didn’t think her DC should see this if he didn’t have to.
Considering the amount of people at the scene, the atmosphere was thick with silence. She approached the entrance to the tent which had been erected around his little body. Jessie inhaled a last huge breath and steeled herself. She peeled back the tent door and was greeted by the sombre face of pathologist David Lyndhurst, crouched low over an open rucksack. His assistant, Benito Capello, stopped snapping the crime scene photos and turned when he heard Jessie approach. He nodded without speaking as she walked closer. Jessie’s heart thudded. She could feel every molecule of blood rushing around her body, ending in a deafening pulse in her head. The civilian part of the woman she was cried out that she should turn back, but Jessie wasn’t only that woman. She was the lead investigator into the disappearance of a vulnerable baby boy. He needed her; now more than ever.
‘Hello, Jessie,’ David spoke quietly as he looked up.
‘David.’ Jessie’s voice quivered and she coughed once to clear the tightness that was choking her throat.
She edged closer and crouched next to him, staring at the back of the tent for a moment before allowing her eyes to drift down to the bag. It was a fairly standard rucksack – Jessie had a similar one for the rare occasions she went
to the gym. There was nothing on the outside of the bag to suggest the horrifying contents. Several people had passed by it, assuming it had been dumped but unaware that it hid a terrible truth. She peered inside.
He looked like a doll that had been broken and discarded by a spoilt child. His little denim dungarees were unfastened from one shoulder and hung down loosely towards his stomach. His blond hair was filthy, and looked like it was painted onto his misshapen head. Jessie was relieved Finlay’s eyes were closed. Looking into his eyes would have finished her.
‘You OK, Jess?’ David whispered.
Jessie couldn’t answer him. She didn’t know if she was OK. This was a scene nobody could ever unsee. Ryan’s face rushed into her mind with such force she had to stand and take a step back to compose herself. She would never forget that sight for as long as she lived. She inhaled a large breath and blew it back out slowly. She had to focus.
‘When will you have a time of death for me?’ she asked without taking her eyes off the broken, twisted little body that lay partway out of the bag.
‘He’s been dead at least forty-eight hours. I’ll have more for you once I get him back to the lab.’
Jessie nodded then took another step away. Her legs trembled, and she felt hot tears sting the backs of her eyes. She squeezed them tight shut in a bid to halt their escape. Memories of losing her own son hit hard. She couldn’t break down now. Not in front of everyone. It wasn’t until she felt Benito’s arm around her shoulders that Jessie realised her pain was obvious to them.
‘I have a flask of coffee in my car,’ he whispered close to her ear as he guided her outside.
‘It’s fine, I’m OK.’ Jessie wasn’t fooling anyone. Nothing about her was fine.
‘Well, you can keep me company for a few moments then, and you can watch me drink mine.’ Benito gave a gentle smile, his large brown eyes soothing her aching heart a little.