“May we come in, Miss Johnson?” Stone asked, wondering if there was any significance to the fact that she had been expecting him. “We have some questions we’d like to ask you.”
Gabby stepped aside to let the two detectives enter, and then closed the door once they were inside so she could guide them into the living room. When they got there, they found that she wasn’t alone – her companion was a man in his late twenties, whom Stone assumed was her boyfriend.
“Mr Manning?” Stone asked.
A nod answered the question. “That’s me; who’re you, and what d’you want?”
“DI Stone, this is my partner, DS Burke, we’re here to ask some questions of your girlfriend, and of you since you’re here. Now, I’m sure Miss Johnson has told you that her employer’s daughter, Alice Keating, was kidnapped yesterday afternoon on her way home from school.”
Manning frowned, an angry look on his face. “And because of my record, and Gabby’s, you’ve decided I must be responsible. Let me tell you, you’re dead wrong. I didn’t kidnap that girl yesterday, and I didn’t kidnap that boy four years ago.”
Stone looked sceptical, as did his partner. “The jury believed you were guilty,” he said. “And I took a look at the case file; the evidence was against you, you were seen putting the boy into your car, as was Miss Johnson, and he was found in the flat the two of you shared at the time.”
“I didn’t kidnap him – Josh is my son.”
“The file says nothing about that.”
“Well it should. I told the police what the situation was, and both my solicitor and my barrister explained it to the jury. They weren’t int’rested, though, not after my bitch of an ex finished with her lies.” Manning made no attempt to conceal how much he hated his ex. “We were broken up by the time Josh was born, and she never put my name on the birth certificate. When he was five, Lucy agreed to let me see Josh, and to have him from time to time, usually one weekend a month. We had an argument that Friday, and after I collected Josh she called the police and said he’d been kidnapped; she didn’t mention my name, just let the police identify me and arrest me.
“It didn’t matter what I said, or what my solicitor said, it didn’t even matter that Josh’s teacher was willing to testify that I’d been collecting Josh regularly, or that he spent one weekend a month with me. All that mattered to the cops, and to the court, was that I wasn’t recognised officially as Josh’s dad and didn’t have formal visitation rights.”
As Gabby reached out to take her boyfriend’s arm, Stone looked at his partner. He wasn’t sure what to make of Manning’s story – Manning was convincing, but the coincidence of two people with convictions for kidnapping being connected with the Keating family at the time of Alice Keating being kidnapped was one he couldn’t ignore.
“Can you tell us where you were yesterday afternoon, between three and half past?” he asked of Manning.
It was several long seconds before Manning answered. “I was with my probation officer,” he said once he succeeded in getting his temper under control. “I had a three o’clock appointment; I got there, musta been ‘bout ten to, and she saw me ‘bout ten past. I was there until about twenty to four, then I went for a coffee, while I looked through the job section – finding a job ain’t been easy. I’m sure you can find plenty of people who can confirm where I was, including two police officers and three probation officers; they all saw me waiting for my appointment, not to mention at least half a dozen others at the probation offices – of course, they’re crims, like I am now, so I don’t suppose their words count for much.”
“Rowan,” Gabby tried to calm her boyfriend.
Stone could hardly blame Manning for being bitter, especially if what he had said was true. “We’ll check what you’ve told us, Mr Manning,” he said. “It shouldn’t take us long to confirm your alibi, but until we do, don’t leave town.” He turned his attention to Gabby then.
36
Alice heard the motorbike engine start up and then quickly fade away, but the noise didn’t register with her. Neither did the slow, measured footsteps that ascended the stairs, approaching her prison. It was the same with the noises that heralded the unlocking of the door; she heard the noises, and her brain recognised them for what they were, but it failed to realise the significance of what was happening.
Lost in the shame of having had to use a bucket as a toilet, a bucket that remained in the corner of the room, and from which came an unpleasant, though thankfully not overpowering, smell, Alice was oblivious to anything else. Compounding her shame was the feeling of being unclean – she hadn’t had a shower in some time, nor had she been able to brush her teeth or change her clothes; she felt all the more unclean for not having been able to wash after using the bucket/toilet.
It wasn’t until a pair of legs appeared before her that Alice came out of her reverie. Her eyes moved slowly up from the shins in front of her until she found the face of her kidnapper – it was the nicer of the two she had seen and the panic and fear that had caused her heart to race in her chest eased, a little. It eased a little more when she saw that he was holding a plate and a bottle of water.
Out the corner of her eye she saw that the door was slightly ajar; escape didn’t even enter her limited thinking, though. The failure of her attempt to get away that morning, coupled with her hunger and a desperate thirst, both of which were exacerbated by the food and drink held by her captor, kept her glued to the spot.
“Are you going to be sensible?” Lewis asked when he saw that Alice was paying attention to him.
Alice tried to reply but found that she couldn’t make her voice work, her mouth was too dry after going so long without anything to drink. She was forced to answer with a nod, while resisting the urge to reach out and snatch the food and drink from him, as her stomach was urging her to do.
“Good, I don’t think you’d like what my partner would do to you if you were to try anything stupid again,” Lewis told her as he set down the plate and bottle of water. Once he had done that, and keeping a careful eye on Alice, he collected the bucket, which he could tell from the smell needed emptying.
Alice was eating the sandwich he had brought her as he re-entered the room with the cleaned bucket. Her hand stopped halfway to her mouth when she saw him return. With suspicious eyes, which held more than a hint of fear, she watched him carry the bucket past her. He returned it to its corner and headed for the door, stopping when he saw something on the palm of the hand Alice was holding the sandwich with.
Not wanting to frighten her, he approached slowly and cautiously. Taking the sandwich from her, he put it out of the way, then he took her hand and turned it over so he could see the mark on her palm, a mark he was certain hadn’t been there the previous day. The dried blood made him realise that Alice had injured herself, he just wasn’t sure if it had happened that morning, when Crash stopped her escaping, or at some other point.
“I’ll be back in a few moments,” he said.
Lewis bolted the door behind him, not that he thought Alice would try and escape, she seemed too scared for that, and made his way downstairs to the kitchen. He had seen a first aid kit somewhere in there, but it took him a bit of looking to locate it again. Once he had it, he hurried back upstairs; it hadn’t been long since Crash left, and he was sure it would be a while before he was back, but he didn’t want to take a chance on him returning and finding out what he was doing.
“Here, give me your hand,” he said, kneeling in front of Alice. “Don’t worry, I won’t hurt you.” Despite his reassurance, Alice didn’t move, he had to reach out and take her hand, turning it so the palm faced the ceiling and he could see the injury.
From the first-aid kit, Lewis took out a foil-wrapped disinfectant wipe. He tore open the wrapper and used the wipe to gently clean away the dried blood; when that was done, he saw that the injury was minor, a narrow and shallow cut that ran for about two inches along her palm. Since it wasn’t serious, he decided that all it
needed was a plaster.
“Thank you.”
The gratitude was offered in a voice so low that Lewis wasn’t certain he had heard it for a moment. He accepted it with a nod and then asked, “Do you need me to look at anything else while I’m here?”
“Why won’t you let me go?” Alice asked as Lewis worked to remove the splinter that was under her fingernail.
“I can’t,” Lewis told her. He wanted to let her go, he wanted to take her downstairs and out to the barn, put her in the van and drive her home, he couldn’t, though. It was cowardice that stopped him, he knew that, and the knowledge made him ashamed, but he was afraid of what his partner would do to him if he let Alice go. “I can’t,” he repeated. “If I let you go, they’ll hurt me, and you.” He succeeded in getting a grip on the splinter with the tweezers from the first aid kit and, slowly and carefully, began to pull it out. “You just have to be patient,” he told her. “This will all be over tomorrow, then you’ll be home safe with your family.” As he said that, he couldn’t help wondering how safe she would be, given how close to her home and family was Jim, who had planned and arranged the kidnapping. “Tomorrow night, your dad will pay the ransom, and after that you’ll be free.”
37
Grey rang the doorbell and stepped back to wait, wondering as he did so if they were wasting their time, as they had been at the other two houses they had visited. Their whole afternoon had been wasted in Grey’s opinion; they had tracked down what details they could on the kidnapping case involving Gabby Johnson and Rowan Manning, and then confirmed Manning’s alibi. After that they had moved on to confirming the whereabouts of the three former employees of Griffin Games who hadn’t yet been checked out.
The first two former Griffin Games employees they had visited had solid alibis for the entirety of the previous day. Not only did they have alibis, they lacked motives for kidnapping Alice Keating; both had been hired for projects which had ended successfully, left with good references, and now had well-paid jobs with other companies. They were left with just Lewis Rice to check out – he had a possible motive, given how his employment with Griffin Games had ended, but what information they had on the man suggested it was unlikely that he would be involved in Alice Keating’s kidnapping; Lewis Rice was, according to what they had been told by his former colleagues, a very intelligent, but meek and retiring, person who wouldn’t say boo to a goose, and wouldn’t dream of taking the initiative in anything more daring than getting a round of drinks. The mismatch made it necessary for them to look further into the man and his background.
When there was no response to his knock after a minute, Grey knocked again, he then moved away from the front door. Stepping off the path, he moved to the living room window so he could peer in, in case there was someone at home who either wasn’t willing or wasn’t able to answer the door. He couldn’t see anything or anyone, and after another minute he reluctantly accepted that there was no-one home, just as there hadn’t been when the uniformed officers tried to find Lewis Rice.
“Let’s try the neighbours,” Reid suggested. “One of them might know where he is.”
Grey nodded. “His car’s here, maybe he just went to the shops or something.” There was a small group of shops a couple of streets away, and he supposed it was possible the man they were looking for had walked there rather than driving.
Together, they walked back down the path and made their way around to the house next door. They went to their right first, for no reason they could have articulated. This time they were in luck, their knocked was answered almost immediately.
“Hello,” the cautious greeting was offered by an elderly gentleman, who opened the door just far enough to look out and held onto it, ready to close it at the first sign of trouble.
“Good afternoon, sir,” Reid said at his most polite. “I’m Detective Constable Reid, and this is Detective Constable Grey.” They both held out their warrant cards so they could be examined. “Do you mind if we ask you a few questions, Mr…?”
“Penfold,” the old man answered once he had finished scrutinising the warrants cards, and was satisfied that the two men before him were indeed detectives. He relaxed a little, but his hand remained on the door as his eyes moved constantly between Grey and Reid. “What do you want to know?” he asked.
“We’re interested in your neighbour, Mr Rice, Mr Penfold,” Reid said. “Do you mind if we come in?” He didn’t imagine they were going to be there long, but he didn’t think it a good idea for them to ask their questions on the doorstep; if Lewis Rice was one of the people they were looking for, he didn’t want him to see them, get spooked, and disappear, should he come home.
“Sure, sure, come on in.” Penfold stepped back from the door, gesturing for them to enter as he did so. “The living room’s just through there.” He pointed to a doorway down the passage from him with his stick. “Go right in and make yourself comfortable; if Buster makes a nuisance of himself, or tries to get up on the sofa, just push him away. He likes to be made a fuss of, and loves it when we have visitors, even if he doesn’t know who they are.” As he continued to speak the old man shuffled forward so he could close the front door.
“Buster, get down,” Penfold said sharply as he entered the living room. With his stick, he nudged the dog, which was far younger and more active than its master, away from the two detectives, who were attempting to sit on the sofa without hurting the frisky animal. “Now, you said you want to speak to me about Lewis, what is it you want to know?” Once he had shooed his companion to his basket, he settled into the armchair.
“The main thing we want to know is, where is Mr Rice, do you know where we can find him? He doesn’t appear to be home,” Grey said.
“No, I’m afraid not,” Penfold answered without hesitation. “I haven’t seen him today, or yesterday, but that’s no surprise; aside from walking Buster, I don’t get out much. Has he done something wrong?” he asked curiously.
Grey shook his head. “No, sir, not as far as I’m aware,” he said, downplaying the situation as best he could. “We just need to speak to him.”
“How well do you know Mr Rice?” Reid asked, thinking that though Penfold hadn’t seen Lewis Rice in the last two days, and hence couldn’t help with establishing where the programmer had been the previous afternoon, he might still be able to provide some useful information.
“Well enough, I suppose,” Penfold said, the curiosity in his face growing at the questions. “As I said, I don’t get out much, but Lewis always speaks when he sees me, and he gets on well with Buster.”
“What can you tell us about him?”
Penfold didn’t speak for a few moments as he decided what to say. “He’s a nice person,” he said finally. “His mind’s off in the clouds a lot of the time, but he’s very nice; he’s very intelligent guy, I asked him once what he does for a living, and was confused by the time he finished the first sentence. It’s something to do with computers, I gather. he gave me an old computer he was going to throw out last year, even set it up so I can speak to my daughter in Canada and my son up in Scotland, it’s made such a difference.”
“That was good of him,” Grey remarked. “Not everyone would have taken the time.”
“I know, my neighbour on the other side, now he’s a right miserable bugger, wouldn’t pee on you if you were on fire. Don’t think I’ve passed a dozen words with him in the past three months, if not longer. Always chasing Buster away when he sees him as well, even if he isn’t anywhere near his garden.” Penfold scowled over his shoulder in the direction of his curmudgeonly neighbour. “Lewis, though, is very good about helping out if I need anything done; I know he’s helped Jackie out as well. His neighbour on the other side,” he explained. “She’s a single mum, got three kids, needs a lot of help at times. Mind, Lewis isn’t much use if you need help with anything other than computers; he’s hopeless with DIY, gardening, just about anything that isn’t electronic or computer related really, but he’s always willing
to give it a try and do his best.
“At least he was.”
“What do you mean by that, Mr Penfold?” Grey asked.
A further delay revealed Penfold’s reluctance to get someone who was a friend in trouble, but after a few seconds he seemed to decide that answering the police was the best thing he could do. “The last few months, Lewis has been different; he lost a job, I don’t know what he was doing, or who he was working for, just that he lost the job, and was very bitter about it. He didn’t speak about it to me, but I got the impression he was sacked, and accused of something, something I doubt very much he did – I can’t imagine him doing anything wrong. He’s had a hard time finding another job since – he hasn’t said anything to me about it, but I know he’s spoken to Jackie because she’s mentioned it to me – and blames someone he used to work with.
“Apparently, whatever he was accused of, it’s making it tough to get a job. He’s normally happy and pretty easy going, although a bit off with the fairies if you know what I mean, but it seems the longer he’s out of work, the more unhappy, resentful, and snappy he’s becoming.”
Reid and Grey exchanged significant looks; they knew who Rice had been working for, why he had lost the job, and who he most likely felt unhappy and resentful towards. What had seemed like a long shot was now looking like more of a possibility; while the information Penfold had given was unconfirmed, it did add to the possible motive they had for Lewis Rice being involved with Alice Keating’s kidnapping.
“Thank you, Mr Penfold,” Grey said. “You said Mr Rice has spoken to his neighbour on the other side about his situation.”
Penfold nodded.
“Do you think she will be able to help us?”
Penfold shrugged uncertainly. “I couldn’t say, I don’t really know what you’re after.” He couldn’t imagine that the friendly and helpful neighbour he knew was in trouble with the police, but he couldn’t think why else the detectives were asking about Lewis, and that made him very curious.