Alan Jones was fed up, but a fed up pragmatist. “Sir, I’ve just bloody well got here, what the hell’s going on?”
“I need your presence and your insight. Did you ever hear the expression – all the time you’re talking you’re learning nothing?”
“No, but I’m sure you’re going to tell me more.”
“I’m the talker, you’re the observer. I won’t say exactly what I’m looking for otherwise it’ll prejudice your own view. It’s just going to be Olivia, Tom, you, Martha and me. In broad terms, I want both sides of the Radford-Wickham divide to feel as if we need to hear their theories about what we should be doing next. They’ve had a hell of a lot of information to digest, even though we’ve held quite a few key juicy bits back. I want them to be off guard. How’s the search going?”
This was music to Jones’ ears, as he thought the search was a complete waste of time. “How would I know, sir? I’ve just had Martha sweet-talking Sergeant Dixon like you suggested. He hasn’t fallen for it yet, so she’s stirring the pot with some of the other uniform lads. I’ve only just got a couple of them to show me the approximate spot where the scarf was found, and guess what – the marker has been removed. Just jumping around doing disjointed legwork like this all day isn’t very productive, with due respect sir. When I come back I’d appreciate some redefinition of my role in this investigation. I can’t speak for Martha, but she seems as if she’s in a fog at times as well.”
“Point taken, DI Jones,” said Prentice sarcastically, “in that case leave her to get on with the search and we’ll have a chinwag after this session with Tom and Olivia.”
‘Bloody Norah, talk about moving targets,’ said Jones, under his breath. “On my way sir.”
*
Martha was indeed weaning uniformed officers away from the wider search area to concentrate on the clutch of laurel bushes. The fading sun forced the use of floodlights, with the accompanying bright shapes and dark shadows, as the beams crossed one another. The almost non-existent morale, biting cold, and pangs of hunger were banished within minutes when a young recruit asked what a plastic drainage cover was doing amongst the overgrown bushes. It made no sense. He kicked it away and it was absorbed by the surrounding laurel, skimming off the helmet of a colleague. The high jinks continued as it was retrieved and sent back with interest as a Frisbee. The laurel, acting as a massive spider’s web, claimed it again. However, this time, the retriever had to search for it. He shouted, “Over here lads, quick, over here.”
A rain-sodden comic was trapped amongst the branches. The front page had a delivery address on it. The pencil marks had been twisted by the paper’s expansion and contraction in the recent changeable weather, but there was no denying it was marked for a Hamsterley Mill destination. It made sense as the estate wasn’t near any newsagent, it might be an item for a regular delivery boy.
Martha got straight on the blower telling Prentice the title of the comic, and that she was going to confirm the delivery address with the nearest newsagents to Hamsterley Mill estate. “It shouldn’t be too difficult to find out if this publication was a repeat order. Do you want the search to continue?”
“Absolutely Martha, because it will either be suspended tomorrow or drastically reduced in terms of the number of bodies available from police ranks and the public.”
*
Prentice arranged the seating such that Jones would be looking at Olivia and Tom from the side, and they would be facing himself. They were late again, a habit which was beginning to annoy him. Jones was eagerly anticipating the roll out of the ‘sprat to catch a mackerel.’
Prentice began affably. “I needed to bring you fully up to speed with everything that I can before tomorrow, and the hiatus it may bring. Please note that I said everything I can, not everything I know. I won’t insult your intelligence – you both know how this works. By the way, I won’t be part of the hiatus, I’ll be here tomorrow if there’s anything you want to contact me for. Right, where are we?” He started to fiddle with his notes. “Oh yes, first of all, Olivia, this package which was sent to you, we now have some test results on it. Suffice it to say, it wasn’t a direct physical threat to you or anyone else, by simply opening the box. The stun gun inside however, wasn’t standard issue, it was modified, and may have been used on your father. Now Tom, I’m relieved to say we have footage which places you in the bar at the football ground at the time Peter was attacked. So, unless you are capable of being in two places at once, we can eliminate you from that investigation.”
Jones liked the way this was going, especially what his boss wasn’t saying.
“If we can just get back to the hospital in general, we’ve found something which may link to the scarf, possibly even to the wristband which you are both certain was his. Now, if we accept that the package was placed in the internal mail system by hand, and the contents do point to both Kieron and Peter we have to ask again, why? There’s still no contact about any kind of demand, and that leads me to believe you may not receive one. If I’m right about this, would you mind indulging me? Can either of you think of any reason, however tenuous, that someone connected to the hospital would want to see either of you suffer like this? I know I’ve asked this before, but that was along the lines of harming you. Perhaps the intent is to cause indirect anxiety. It’s only a hunch, but this person doesn’t exactly seem too meticulous about covering their tracks. We could be forgiven for thinking that they want to be found. Sounds crazy, but if this is the case, I‘d also expect they wouldn’t want to harm Kieron either. That’s why I want you to trawl the past, do it together, do it right now, tomorrow and the next day, and keep doing it. We’ll just get on with the evidence, because we can’t know of anyone who might bear you a grudge, until you give us something to work with.”
Tom nodded and turned to Olivia. “He’s right you know, the message lured your father to the hospital, the package came to the hospital, Kieron’s wristband came to the hospital, the scarf was found there as well. We need to do this Olivia. God knows, I can think of plenty of people I’ve pissed off when we’ve attended the various functions over the years. Let’s take a break and start writing a few names on a piece of paper. There must be a lot of candidates currently working at the hospital, and wait a minute, have you considered this new promotion you’ve got your eyes on? I think you should tell Inspector Prentice about that.”
“There you go again Tom, impulsive, jumping to conclusions, do you seriously think someone would take our son because I might get Gladstone’s job? This is conspiracy theory gone mad. And, I don’t want to ruin my chances by dragging such fanciful notions into the minds of those who will decide on his replacement. I do take your proposal seriously Inspector, and I think Tom and I should talk about this together. Tomorrow is going to be hard enough, plenty of presents around the tree, but no Santa Claus for Kieron. Can you give us some time to discuss this tonight? I’ll have to go back to the hospital to see Mum, and hopefully Dad. It’s going to be another long night. Will you come with me Tom? We can get started on this, and I must say it will help to pass the time.”
When they left, Prentice turned to Jones. “Any observations?”
“Definitely sir. When you eventually homed in on the hospital, Olivia’s hand-twitching below the desk betrayed some concern. Then, the suggestion that someone may hold a grudge against her exacerbated her lack of control of this habit. The same thing recurred when Tom mentioned her possible promotion. Tom himself showed no such anxiety.”
“Good, worth the effort then.”
Jones tidied his desk and wished the boss a happy Christmas. “You know, if anything comes up tomorrow, I can spare a couple of hours, in fact I’d probably like that.”
“How come?”
“I’ll be at my girlfriend’s parents’ place again, and it’s always the same routine, same telly, same socks, same aftershave, it does my head in actually. They’re nice folks but a break wouldn’t go amiss.”
Prentice couldn?
??t suppress a wistful smile. He would be spending Christmas alone unless there was a major incident of some kind. He looked beyond his office into the deserted space. The cleaners would be here soon. “I may take you up on that offer Jonesy, I’ll be in here anyway, and without my phone ringing every two minutes, I’ll be able to get this evidence board sorted into a more logical pattern. Right, might see you tomorrow then.”
Chapter 13
Xmas Day
Kieron was still confused, the surroundings were strange, but he didn’t feel threatened. The nice man was back, and promised he wouldn’t have to see the nasty one again. He also said that Kieron might be able to see his dad within a few days. The room was quite small, a single bed on one side, next to it a cheap table on top of which was a dingy lamp, with a dimmer control. The only window was tiny and so high up that Kieron couldn’t see anything but the sky. The traffic noise was incessant but far enough away that it was dulled to a gentle hum. He quite liked the space, or more precisely, the lack of it. Nooks, crannies, and passageways with doorways but no doors, always created uncertainty for him, until he got to see exactly where they went. The rest of the room was a joy to behold once all of the devices had been brought in and switched on by the nice man, who explained their specific purpose to him. Every conceivable interactive medium was at his fingertips. Having run through the operating controls and marked the various remotes for each device, the nice man had allowed Kieron to try out each one. The interconnections were supported by ultra-slick Wi-Fi, to complete this mini cyber world. The door had no lock, so the boy could use the toilet whenever he felt nature calling. There were lots of canned drinks to choose from, and a few different kinds of chocolate biscuits. Kieron hadn’t felt any compulsion to leave this den in the last couple of days. He had forgotten all about Santa Claus until the nice man brought in a stocking filled to bursting with various media gifts, to play on the equipment which surrounded the two of them.
Kieron’s dark brown eyes lit up. “Where’s Daddy? Daddy likes to play with me.”
“He’s away at the moment. Maybe we can speak with Daddy on the phone today.”
“Ok.”
He methodically opened each present and then placed them neatly to one side. The nice man asked if he liked the games, fantasy films, children’s puzzles, Mister Men video books, and cartoons. A winning smile confirmed that he did. He never asked about his mother. They watched an old Danger Mouse cartoon together, then a full length Disney film, after which the nice man left the room to rustle up an apology for a yuletide lunch. Kieron began to experiment with some of the very simple graphical puzzles.
Any recollection of the events in the hospital car park had been annexed for the time being. The nice man’s therapy was intended to submerge such memories altogether. The boy had been preoccupied with his tablet when his grandfather painfully swivelled his unresponsive leg over the seat and on to the tarmac. The procession of sounds had been compartmentalised once the engine had been turned off. The driver’s car door opening, granddad’s groans, the instruction to sit still, the rear door opening, his granddad falling to the ground. That was the sound which triggered his shift of vision from his tablet for the first time. Another strange man took his hand, saying they had to hurry if they were going to help granddad. Kieron couldn’t process this because he hadn’t seen the blow which felled granddad. The man became the nasty man when he took his tablet and threw it on the rear seat. He was dragged from the car, toward some bushes, and he was told to keep quiet. It seemed like a long time since granddad fell down, but then an old man came and bent over granddad, who was still asleep. The nicer man took his hand in a really firm grip this time and marched him back to the car. The two men talked, after which the old man used his phone. The nice man led him away, saying granddad would have to see the doctor. A long walk ended with another car door opening, and he was told to get in the rear seat. It was just a short time before they came to a house with this room in it. It was dark and only had a bed and table in it. He was really afraid now. The nasty man left and locked the door. It wasn’t long before the nice man unlocked the door and asked him if he would like a drink. This man said he was sorry about the nasty man, and that he had chased him away. He promised that he wouldn’t come back. This man brought a desk and chair into the room, and then lots of computer stuff. He explained what they were, and said he could have them to play with. He asked Kieron about granddad, and when he heard the story, he said they would have to telephone the doctor to make sure granddad was better. This man was a much nicer man, and said they could both play on the computer stuff tomorrow. He cuddled up to him as he showed him the toilet and said it was time for bed. He left the door unlocked and asked if he wanted the light left on. Yes, he did. The nice man dimmed down the brightness, and then explained where his own room was, in case there were any bad dreams. The nice man cuddled him again and tucked him into bed.
*
Prentice had been married but it didn’t work out at all, and ultimately it shuffled through separation and divorce after only ten months. The bride, without reaching the first anniversary, couldn’t accept that his job required her to be at ease with rule one. ‘A spouse’s questions will be answered on a need not to know basis.’ She convinced herself that this was nothing more than a convenience to allow him to keep on sowing wild oats. He protested too much, and she took this as ‘proof’ and walked out. He was now married to the job, and didn’t want to repeat the turmoil which came with such a relationship. He was content with his own company, until days like this.
On the plus side, he did work more productively when the station was virtually deserted. Today was especially important in this respect. He had long since accepted that there would be no progeny of his own, even though it niggled away at his vision of his purpose in life. In a kind of empathetic way, he detested cases involving any variant of abuse of children. It did however, as a consequence, enable an extra gear in the mental transmission box. He was pleased with the morning’s work, as he’d completed the rearrangement of the evidence on the whiteboard, and felt quite chipper about the restored focus this gave him. He had earned a reward and headed to the caffeine dispenser. He pressed for an espresso and got the ‘please refill’ request. “Bollocks.” They hadn’t stocked up the machine and the supplies cupboard was locked. Of course he didn’t have a key. Neither did any of the skeleton staff within shouting distance. He resignedly pushed the breakfast tea button. It was awful, but he persevered while continuing to stare at his morning’s work. It had escaped his attention, that is, until he saw it in the revised timeline, that it was actually him who’d pulled Martha off the security camera trawl of Hamsterley Mill on the fateful night of Kieron’s disappearance. It hadn’t been his idea to do this in the first place, that dubious honour fell to Jones. Now it just seemed to make more sense because of the established time and place of the phone call to Peter. It had always been there, but now it was flashing red.
Jones was quite happy to get the call, acted out the part pretty well and said, “Ok sir, but I can’t remember where DC Hall put that footage, no, no that’s not right. In fact I think she left all of the stuff captured from different cameras in the lab. I’m sure I told her to, because I still had to go through them myself….. What? It’s Christmas Day sir, I…no way.” His girlfriend was furious, shaking her head vigorously. “Just a moment sir.”
Jones played on the emotions of the others, and whispered, “Look at you lot, there’s a kid out there somewhere, and he’s either dead or scared shitless. It won’t feel much like Christmas Day to him. My boss is giving up his time to do what he can. My first reaction was like yours, but he only wants me to show him a few videos of the parents’ house at the time the kid went missing. I’d feel guilty if I said I couldn’t be arsed to spend half an hour to show him the footage. Is that going to be a problem? You’ve all seen the little boy’s picture on the TV appeal haven’t you? Imagine being his mother for a moment. I can go after lunch, while yo
u guys watch Only Fools and Horses, then the Queen’s speech yet again. Well?”
The empathy kicked in, and Jones said he’d be at the lab later. Prentice, for once, was completely unable to disguise his enthusiasm. “Thanks, Jonesy, I won’t forget this.”
He was still mentally shifting various pieces of evidence, pairing up key types with different peripheral partners, when he was startled by his landline ringtone echoing throughout the virtually empty general office.
“Prentice.”
“I guessed you’d be there. It’s Cartwright. I’m not in the lab, but we also have a ‘night-watchman’ with nothing better to do on Christmas Day.”
Prentice yawned from persistent lack of sleep, totally unprepared for the bombshell Cartwright was going to deliver.
“He was doing some overdue filing of mountains of stuff which was verging on taking over the lab. Part of this was DNA charts for subjects in the Kieron case, both those who volunteered for elimination purposes and any potential suspects. There’s no doubt about this I’m afraid. Olivia Radford-Wickham is Sir Ian Gladstone’s offspring.”
“Hell’s teeth.”
“I thought it may now be important to find out who the biological mother is. Assuming my assistant hasn’t mislaid any samples, we should take swabs and test Mrs Gladstone plus Mrs Radford, at least for starters, and you may wish to look into adoption records. Hello, are you still there?”
“Sure, I’m just processing what you said, and thanks Cartwright, this is a true curveball. Listen, I’m just thinking out loud here, but can you keep this under your hat for now.”
“This is surely a first, CID asking us to suppress evidence, rather than put out hints and shots in the dark. Well, there’s only the two of us and my assistant currently entrusted with this knowledge, so I’ll try and keep it that way, from my side anyway. It will have to be in the written report, but that won’t be available for a couple of days. I should add that it wasn’t altogether surprising that this eluded the first screening. The elimination pile of charts was thought to be exactly that, and were scrutinised against the victim, Peter Radford, and any DNA found on his person or the car. My eagle-eyed assistant must have phenomenal capability to retain patterns. Gladstone’s DNA was in a completely separate folder from that of Olivia. The DNA of offspring is made up of 50% of the father’s and 50% of the mother’s. In this case, Gladstone and Olivia have 50% in common, it wouldn’t have been easy to spot, simply because he examined their charts with a considerable time interval between them, and that time was taken up by looking at and filing many other people’s DNA charts. And, bear in mind, he was only supposed to be tidying the lab. Remarkable!”