by Bill Rogers
Walsh exploded. ‘I don’t believe, I bloody know!’
‘Then why don’t you tell us,’ said Fox, trying to rescue the situation.
Walsh pointed a finger at the DCI. ‘When I told you I needed protection from the O’Neills,’ he said, ‘it was obvious you didn’t believe an f ’ing word I was saying. So I sent Melissa a text telling her I was sending Morris here to pick her up in the Hummer. Only when he got there, she didn’t turn up.’
‘Are you sure she received the message?’ Jo asked. ‘Did she text you back, for example?’
‘She’s a teenager. She never texts back. But the message was definitely sent. And she checks her phone as soon as they’re allowed to switch them back on at the end of the school day. First thing she does. They all do. Besides, I sent it at lunchtime, so she had two opportunities to read it.’
‘How long did he wait for her?’ Fox asked.
‘Fifteen bloody minutes before he rang me to say she hadn’t shown up.’
Squirming beneath his boss’s irate gaze, the hapless Morris stared down at the floor. ‘I waited another ten minutes,’ he said, shuffling closer to the door. ‘Then I did go looking for her. But nobody had any idea where she was. All her friends had gone.’
‘How did Melissa normally travel home?’ Jo asked.
‘On the bus,’ said Walsh. ‘That’s what we agreed. If she was staying late for hockey practice or whatever, either I’d pick her up or I’d arrange for someone else to go.’
‘Did she ever have something on after school on a Tuesday?’ Nick asked.
Walsh looked at his wife. She shook her head nervously.
‘Could she have gone back with one of her friends?’ asked Jo.
‘Not without telling me. Besides, we’ve rung the ones we have numbers for. They said they got on the bus, and she was still there, outside the school.’
‘What time was this?’ asked Fox.
‘Just gone half three. But you’re wasting time. I’ll show you how I know she’s been kidnapped.’ He picked up his phone.
‘Melissa doesn’t know but I set up a tracker on her handset. As soon as Morris told me she hadn’t turned up I checked it. It showed her going south on Palatine Road, just before it hits the motorway.’
About three miles from the school, Jo reckoned. There was no way she could have covered that distance that quickly on foot.
‘Why didn’t you tell us straight away?’ said Fox. ‘Where is it telling you her phone is now?’
‘It’s no use,’ said Walsh. ‘As soon as I saw where she was I rang her. But she didn’t answer. And then the phone went dead so I can’t track it.’
‘Give me your phone,’ said Fox. ‘Then we can fix the last known location before it was switched off.’
‘No need,’ said Walsh cagily. ‘They’ll have ditched the phone. I’ve got people down there already, looking for it.’
Fox held out his hand for the phone.
‘That’s not the point,’ he said. ‘We need to know the route, as well as where that phone may be, so we can check all the relevant cameras to see if we can spot the vehicle.’
‘You’re not having this phone,’ said Walsh. ‘You can take a photo, right? That’ll tell you all you need to know.’
‘I need it,’ said Fox firmly. ‘It’s vital evidence that can help us find Melissa.’
Walsh put the phone in his pocket.
‘Not without a warrant,’
‘For God’s sake, Ryan!’ said Mrs Walsh. ‘Give it to him. What if she has one of her attacks?’
‘Keep your nose out, Andrea,’ he told her. ‘I know what I’m doing.’
‘What kind of attack, Mrs Ryan?’ said Jo.
‘Asthma. She’s got asthma. Stress can set her off. She had a bad attack before her SATs. They had to call an ambulance. God knows what this will do.’
Walsh’s phone rang. ‘It’s the school,’ he said.
‘Put it on speakerphone,’ Fox demanded.
‘Mr Walsh, this is Mrs Harrison, the bursar,’ said a cultured voice. ‘We have just been contacted by a member of the public. She found a backpack on the pavement outside their front door. When she looked inside, it was full of your daughter’s exercise books.’ There was a pause. ‘And her Ventolin inhaler.’
Andrea Walsh began to wail.
‘Where does this person live, Mrs Harrison?’ said Fox.
She gave them the address.
‘Mabfield Road,’ said Carter. ‘That’s on the other side of Platt Fields Park. It leads onto Wilmslow Road.’
‘Melissa probably walked through the park,’ said the bursar. ‘Quite a few of the girls do if they live close by. I do hope she turns up soon. We’re all very concerned, Mr Walsh.’
‘Not as concerned as I am,’ Walsh snapped.
‘Of course. Is there anything we can do to help? For example . . .’
‘I’ll let you know,’ said Walsh, rudely ending the call. He stared at the detectives facing him. ‘I told you!’ he said. ‘There’s no way she can have dumped that bag. The O’Neills have got her. If they harm one hair on her head, I swear I’ll . . .’
‘Best not to tell us,’ said Fox. ‘And I suggest you hand me that phone, for your daughter’s sake.’
Still Walsh prevaricated. Jo guessed that he was processing the cost-benefit analysis. The risk to his daughter of not handing the phone over, as against the risk to himself if the police decided to walk the cat back on some of his shady contacts.
‘Please give them the phone, Ryan,’ pleaded his distraught wife.
Ryan Walsh ignored DCI Fox’s outstretched hand, stepped reluctantly forward, and handed it instead to Jo. ‘Just so you can find my daughter,’ he said. ‘Yeah?’
Chapter 26
‘What do you think?’ said DCI Fox, staring back at the house. ‘She’s only been missing an hour and a half. You know what kids that age are like.’
‘I’d say he’s right,’ said Jo. ‘Someone has taken his daughter. Whether or not it’s connected to Ronnie O’Neill’s murder remains to be seen.’
‘It could be street robbery,’ Fox pointed out. ‘Someone grabs her phone then tries to wrestle her backpack off her. She drops it and runs off. Johnny panics, and ditches it when he realises her dad could be tracking it.’
‘So why hasn’t she rung the police, her mum, or her dad?’ said Nick. ‘And why didn’t she go back to see if her bag was still there?’
Fox snorted. ‘Because she’s terrified of her dad and her mum’s a bleeding wreck.’
‘We’re wasting time arguing about it,’ said Jo. ‘I’m going to contact the AKEU.’
‘Who the hell are they when they’re at home?’ Fox demanded.
‘The Anti-Kidnap and Extortion Unit is an NCA specialist outfit,’ she told him. ‘They’re on standby around the clock to support UK, EU, and global law enforcement services. They’re on a par with their FBI equivalent, on whom they’re modelled. I’m surprised you haven’t heard of them.’
‘This is a GMP operation,’ he told her. ‘I’ll let you know if and when we need any help. Until then, I suggest you butt out and concentrate on finding your killer. The sooner you do that, the sooner the rest of us can get back to proper policing.’ He turned his back on them and stormed off towards his car.
‘At least talk to their on-call officers,’ she called after him. ‘What harm can that do?’
He ignored her, got into his car, and drove off.
‘No harm at all,’ said Nick. ‘Except to his ego. What are you going to do, Jo?’
‘What do you think? I’m going to call Harry Stone, and get him to talk to Helen Gates. She’s bound to order Fox to cooperate with the AKEU.’
‘He won’t like it. You know how it is. He’ll wind his cronies up and when your secondment to the NCA is over he could make your life a misery.’
‘As though I care,’ she said. ‘There’s a girl’s life at stake right now. What’s that compared with male pride?’
‘
What do we do now?’ he asked.
‘You get a lift back to Nexus House. I’m going to pay Jason O’Neill a visit. Hopefully I’ll beat DCI Fox to it. He’ll only get his back up. I can speak to my boss on the way.’
‘You’re sure about this?’ Harry Stone sounded wary.
‘Absolutely, Boss.’ Jo replied. ‘It’s too much of a coincidence for that girl to go missing immediately after her father pleads for police protection. What is it we always say? Trust the parents’ instincts. Nine times out of ten they’ll be right. For all his bluster the father is terrified and so is the mother. And there’s no other explanation for what happened with her school bag and her phone.’
She sensed Harry’s hesitation and pressed on. ‘Besides, if there is a connection, finding out who’s abducted her and why can only help with Operation Alecto.’
She gave him time to think it through.
‘Well,’ he said at last. ‘There’s no conflict of interest. On the contrary, we’re working with Titan, and they have an ongoing interest in all your potential suspects. I suppose I could have a word with ACC Gates. Or even ask the Director to talk to the Chief Constable.’
‘That would be brilliant, Boss,’ said Jo. She said a silent prayer. ‘There is just one other thing.’
‘There always is with you, Jo,’ he said. ‘Go on, spit it out.’
‘When the AKEU are looking for Senior Investigators to work with them, could you suggest Max Nailor? Only I desperately need someone I can trust to work with both me and DCI Fox.’
Harry sighed. ‘Leave it with me,’ he said. ‘No promises, but I’ll see what I can do.’
Chapter 27
‘This is crazy,’ Jo muttered to herself.
The avenue leading to the O’Neill house was crammed with vehicles. Dozens of cars had their wheels on the pavement to each side. A monster SUV was blocking the entrance to the drive. She was forced to reverse all the way to the end, park around the corner, shrug on her NCA cagoule, and then walk back up the street.
Thirty yards from the house she reached an unmarked car with two bored-looking detectives slumped in the front. The windows were steamed up, and as she approached there was a single burst from the windshield wipers as they flicked away the rain. She stopped and knocked on the window. The man on the passenger side stared up at her suspiciously. She showed him her ID. He lowered his window a third of the way, forcing her to bend lower.
‘Sorry, Ma’am,’ he said. ‘I didn’t recognise you with your hood up.’
The driver leaned across. ‘I saw you on the telly, just after you shot that serial rapist.’ He grinned. ‘Nice one, Ma’am.’
It sickened Jo that men like this always assumed that she’d taken pleasure in firing that shot.
‘Where are you stationed?’ she asked.
‘Wigan, Ma’am,’ said the passenger politely, sensing her irritation.
‘And what are you supposed to be doing here?’
He shuffled uncomfortably in his seat. ‘Keeping an eye out for trouble.’ He pointed to the image of Steven Yates on the screen in front of them. ‘And looking for this villain.’
‘And what do you think he’d have done if, like me, he’d come up unseen behind you and seen his face staring back at him?’
The driver sat back and pretended to look out of the window.
His colleague had the grace to look embarrassed. ‘Legged it, Ma’am,’ he replied. ‘Sorry, Ma’am.’
‘I suggest you switch that off,’ she said, pointing to the iPhone on his lap. ‘Then you can keep your eyes on the wing mirror, while your colleague watches the house.’
‘Yes, Ma’am.’
‘Carry on,’ Jo said. She straightened up and walked off.
She could well imagine what they’d be saying to each other now. Three bags full, Ma’am. And a hell of a lot worse. God, she was sounding more and more like Helen Gates. She shouldn’t have let them get to her. He couldn’t be expected to recognise her. Even after the cuts, they still had six thousand frontline officers. And the driver had meant well. It was too late now. Word would fly round Wigan, and then across the force. That Joanne Stuart, she’s a stuck-up bitch. Promotion’s gone to her head – same as all the others. She could just hear Gordon’s advice. Man up, Jo, he’d say. Just before she punched him.
To her surprise, the SUV turned out to be an armed response vehicle. Two riflemen sat in the back. The driver gave her a cool, hard appraisal as she walked past.
She showed her ID to the officer on the door of the house, pushed back her hood, and had a shake to dispel some of the water, before entering. Jason O’Neill was standing by the fireplace in the lounge. Jack Reilly was at his side.
‘Not you as well!’ said Reilly. ‘I wondered when the cavalry was gonna turn up.’
The tall, broad-shouldered man standing with his back to Jo turned around. She recognised him as Detective Superintendent Ellis, the North West Regional Crime Unit’s Titan commander.
‘You’se wanna sort yourselves out,’ said O’Neill. ‘Decide who’s running this shambles.’
It was obvious from his expression that Ellis was thinking much the same thing.
Jo decided to get in first. ‘SI Stuart, NCA, seconded back to GMP as Senior Investigating Officer for Operation Alecto, Sir. The murder of Mr O’Neill’s father.’
‘I see,’ he replied. ‘So this is your show?’
‘Yes, Sir.’
‘Well, I’m here to make sure that things don’t get out of hand – that they don’t escalate. I was hoping to convince Mr O’Neill that it would be in his best interest to leave everything to us.’ He tipped his head in a show of deference. ‘To you, that is.’
Jo watched Jason O’Neill to see what his reaction would be. ‘At this moment I’m here in relation to the disappearance of the daughter of someone known to Mr O’Neill,’ she said.
If Jason knew what she was talking about he was hiding it well. ‘Missing kid? What the hell’s that got to do with my dad? You’re supposed to be looking for the bastard that killed him, not flitting round after someone else’s brat.’
‘The child in question is twelve years old,’ said Jo. ‘Her name is Melissa. She’s the daughter of Ryan Walsh.’
O’Neill shared glances with Jack Reilly. Both of them seemed genuinely surprised. ‘Walsh?’ said Jason. ‘His daughter’s gone missing and you think it’s got something to do with me?’
‘He claims he’s been receiving threats. Threats related to your father’s murder.’
Jason took a pace forward. He shook his head wildly. ‘If I thought he killed my dad I wouldn’t bother with threats. He wouldn’t know what hit him.’ He turned to his colleague. ‘I’d never touch a kid, would I, Jack? You tell ’em.’
‘He wouldn’t,’ said Reilly. ‘No way.’
‘Maybe not,’ said Jo. ‘But Steven Yates would. And there’s something else you should know. She suffers from asthma. Whoever took her threw her bag away. Her inhaler was inside. If she has a major attack, without it – or immediate medical attention – she’s likely to die.’
O’Neill paled. Either he’s involved, Jo decided, or he’s coming round to the view that his enforcer is.
‘Where is Steven, Jason?’ she said.
‘That’s what I want to know,’ DS Ellis began.
A woman’s voice cut him off. ‘You’ve got to stop it, Jason!’
Sheila O’Neill had entered the room from the hall unseen. Jo stepped aside so she could go to her son. Her hair was unkempt, her face drawn, her eyes bloodshot. ‘She’s only a child,’ she said. ‘Your father wouldn’t have wanted this.’
‘I’ve got nothing to do with this, Mum, I swear,’ said Jason. ‘And I cannot believe that Steve would either.’
‘Even so,’ she said. ‘You could try to help them get her back.’
‘Listen to your mother, Jason,’ said Jo. ‘Before it’s too late.’
‘I told you,’ he retorted. ‘I’ve got nothing to do with it. But I’ll p
ut the word out, okay? See what I can find out.’
‘Make sure you do,’ said Ellis.
‘So long as your lot—’ O’Neill hurled at Jo’s back as she headed for the door, ‘—get on with finding out who murdered my dad!’
In the drive, Nigel Fox was remonstrating with the driver of the SUV, trying to get him to back out so he could get his own car in. His face turned another shade of red as he spotted Jo crunching towards him.
‘And you!’ he bellowed. ‘I thought I told you to butt out? What the hell are you doing here? Please tell me you haven’t spoken with O’Neill.’
‘Don’t worry,’ she replied. ‘He’s got the message. And by the way, Detective Superintendent Ellis is with him at the moment. I should hurry. You wouldn’t want him to queer your pitch.’
She brushed past him and hurried back down the avenue. I don’t care if it does come back to haunt me, she decided. It was worth it just to wipe that look off his face.
Chapter 28
It was 7 p.m. when she got back to Nexus House.
Carter was hard at work allocating tasks. ‘How did O’Neill react,’ he asked, ‘when you told him about the missing girl?’
‘All innocent.’
‘Did you believe him?’
‘I think so. At least about the kidnap. Although I’m still inclined to think he put out those threats towards Ryan Walsh. He’s probably been putting pressure on everyone and anyone he thinks might have had a grudge against his dad or might know something about it.’
‘I wish we had his criminal intelligence network,’ said Nick. ‘Make life a damn sight easier than having to rely on Twitter.’
‘When I asked him about Steve Yates,’ said Jo, ‘if he could have used his own initiative to snatch Melissa, he scratched behind his ear, looked down at the floor, and said that he could not believe he would do it.’
‘There you go then,’ said Nick. ‘Three different tells: avoiding eye contact, having a good scratch, and suddenly using contraction-free Queen’s English. That’s as good as a confession.’
Jo shook her head. ‘Not a confession as such, but it means he knows that Yates is well capable of pulling off a stunt like that. It’s exactly the kind of misguided loyalty that could get them both locked up.’