A subservient ‘On my way’ was all he got across before the call terminated. He simply dumped Gladstone and hurtled along the corridor to the staircase. His new sense of urgency ruled out the elevator.
*
As Tom switched the headlights to full beam, pulling Olivia’s Mercedes to the centre of the drive, he realised he hadn’t actually looked in the double garage when he and David had searched the house earlier. Then, exiting the car with the lights doused, a shiver ran down his spine. The Neo-Georgian house seemed sinister, flanked by the brightly lit properties of the neighbours. The security light had been in need of replacement for months. He felt vulnerable. David had provided some kind of shield from the possibility of finding something awful. There was nothing of significance in the garage, even though the flickering fluorescent tube mimicked a horde of incessant flash photographers. Entering the house, he went straight for the phone. There was no voice telling him of new saved messages, so he switched on the recorder to ascertain if there was any ‘live’ conversation on the storage device. He rewound and listened to the voice several times before calling Olivia.
“Hey, I don’t understand what’s going on here. You rang your father to check he was coming over, at 18.36, about three or four minutes after I left. Then, at 19.59, an hour and twenty-three minutes later Peter took a call from someone to say you had been seriously injured in an accident. Dialling 1471 only says ‘caller withheld their number.’ I’m saying this because the first time I listened to the message, I assumed it was the hospital, your hospital. Then I thought, well, that would be right, the number would be withheld, but the call will be logged by your hospital system, you know, to this number. That’s why he went there, and he must have taken Kieron with him.”
“Hold on Tom, If Dad took this call just before 8 pm, I hadn’t arrived at the dinner party by then, In fact, I was running late, I hadn’t even got into town. Fifteen minutes earlier I would’ve taken the call myself. And obviously, I wasn’t at the hospital, so they couldn’t have made the call.”
“I know that, so can you just confirm that no such call was made before you tell the police. I’m coming back now, there’s nothing else to do here. By the way, I ran the message a few times, and in retrospect, it doesn’t really sound kosher. What I mean is…it doesn’t sound practiced or sympathetic or professional. Maybe it’s my imagination but even the slight Welsh accent sounds phoney. Anyway, I’m on my way back.”
During the return journey, his mind shifted back to what he had decided to tell Olivia. Despite everything that had happened tonight, this remained unchanged.
Olivia knew the routine and took little time to confirm that no call had been made from the hospital to her landline. She saw the huddle in reception, but didn’t recognise the new addition. He was doing all the talking and gesticulating constantly with his hands. As she approached, she realised the rest were being ticked off big time. “And where the hell are the parents?”
He was about to despatch someone to make them appear when Olivia cut in. “I assume you mean Kieron’s parents. I’m his mother, his father is on his way here.”
“What do you mean he’s on his way here?”
Jones and DC Hall braced themselves, and the original uniformed officers humbly suggested they should get back to the search. One of them handed the scarf to Martha. The new man nodded and turned back to Olivia.
“Well?”
“My husband went back to our house in Hamsterley Mill, because you lot didn’t seem to know what you were doing. He’s played back my recorded messages relating to my work here, and he found that my father, the victim of a savage assault, was asked to come to the hospital, because I’d been seriously injured. That was patently not the case, but he wasn’t to know. I’ve just checked the call log and that call was not made from this hospital. It would appear that ‘these parents’ are helping you with your enquiries. And who the hell are you?”
“My apologies, I’m DCI John Prentice. I’ve taken over leadership of this case, and I can assure you, there will be changes in priorities. In view of what you’ve just said, the first will be to get out of here and lead this investigation from the station incident room. I’ve already instructed the senior uniformed officer that he is leading the immediate search for your son. Forensic work at the scene of the attack is underway, but they haven’t found anything significant yet. DC Hall is about to leave. Martha, get on to the phone company to find out where this suspicious call was made from. Do it from the station, there are too many prying eyes around here. Jones, I understand from SOCO that the little boy’s computer tablet was in the victim’s car. It needs to be thoroughly checked for prints and DNA. Go with the lab delegate and set up a file of elimination of people – the parents, grandfather, the shop where it was purchased, whatever. Now then, it’s Olivia isn’t it? We’ll wait for your husband then call at the station to take prints and swabs, before we go back to your house. I want to see and hear things for myself. I want to build a picture of your father and your son, when this bogus call came through. You and your husband are the only ones who can help me achieve that.”
Before they scattered to the winds, DC Hall held up the scarf. “Sir?”
“Oh yes, do you recognise this scarf Olivia? It was found in the undergrowth between some laurel bushes in the grounds.”
“It isn’t Kieron’s, or Dad’s or Tom’s, and it certainly isn’t mine. However, it is vaguely familiar, but I can’t think where I might have seen it. Maybe in a shop. It’s unusual, garish and very scruffy.”
“Ok, Jones, take it and include it in your print and DNA file.”
As DI Jones and DC Hall left, the former was totally pissed off, but Martha was genuinely relieved. She wasn’t the only one. Sir Ian Gladstone was now more content. He didn’t want this situation to morph into a media circus just as he was about to retire. As he glanced at his watch, the digital display clicked to 02.30. He made his way toward the main entrance. Something caused him to pause at the open doors of the A&E waiting room. He wasn’t often on duty in the small hours these days, and he gazed in amazement at the diverse life which filled that space. There were no free seats. His throat seemed to tighten as he unconsciously applied labels. There were drunks, dropouts, manual workers in various uniforms, women who’d obviously been assaulted in some way despite their seriously advanced stages of pregnancy, wearers of eye patches, hunched individuals obviously in extreme pain, and loud-mouthed louts hurling abuse at the world. They were all locked in a cacophony of noise. Nobody seemed to heed the notices pleading for mobile devices to be turned off. He was rather pleased that he was stepping out of this world into the invisible one of anonymity. A transient thought fluttered through his cerebral processor as he turned his back on the seething atmosphere. ‘One of these people could have struck Peter Radford.’ He couldn’t quite command his synaptic array to shut down. Peter might have annoyed someone by parking his car erratically. It wasn’t a literal conclusion, more a generalisation of how much civilisation had progressed. He stepped into the taxi and anticipated a restless night.
Chapter 5
Olivia needed to gather her thoughts. As she’d told Tom to drive she adjusted the rake of the passenger seat, and laid back. She couldn’t get comfortable, her neck was stiff and painful, and she realised it was probably stress-related. Tom asked what she made of this new detective.
“He couldn’t possibly be any worse than that numpty Jones. Time will tell I suppose. Perhaps we’d better get our story straight for Prentice before we get home.”
“What’s to get straight? I went to the match, you went to the annual Punch and Judy show, make that the anal Punch and Judy show.”
“Don’t start Tom, for God’s sake. We need to be cohesive in building this picture he wants. You do know that sometimes the parents come under suspicion when a child is taken?”
“Yes I do know, that was one of the reasons I refused to accept DI Jones’ proposal to interview us separately.”
/> “Ok, I just thought it might seem a bit strange if we tell Prentice the whole truth, you know, when you left for the match in a strop. Does he need to know that? It’s bad enough that I had to tell Gladstone the real reason you weren’t at the dinner.”
“For pity’s sake Olivia, don’t start to weave your precious career plan into this situation. I don’t care if Gladstone thinks I’ve got a tattoo on my arse. This is about Kieron – period.”
“We need to be able to fund our son’s special needs as he gets older, and the extra salary will ensure that. He’s almost told me I’ll get his recommendation. I’m just saying, don’t rock the boat.”
“What will it take for you to kick this addiction for power? It isn’t about the money at all, we have more than enough. If the bloody world was a marshmallow, you’d have eaten it all by now. And your father would have helped to bulldoze it down your neck.”
“It’s pointless trying to knock sense into your head when you are in one of your ‘Mr Hyde’ costumes. Let’s change the subject, you had something to tell me, spit it out.”
The car slowed, he genuinely tried to change the subject, but she had her teeth into him again. “You’ve always been a coward Tom, a motor-mouth, but a coward nonetheless.”
“Really? In that case, have some of this. I’m leaving you, I’ve had enough of living somebody else’s life.”
“Don’t tell me, you’ve met some tart who understands you?”
“Olivia, you’re so far up your own arse that you can’t see what you’ve become. You’re just a stupid f….it’s nothing to do with another woman. Your private world doesn’t have room for the Copernicus view of life here on Earth. I’ve known for a few months that my father has prostate cancer, an aggressive type. My brother rang me to say Dad was asking to see me. Apparently, he knows he ain’t got long, and he’s already been transferred to a hospice. Michael thinks he won’t last till Christmas Day, and says he spends all of his lucid time clutching, and staring at my letter of acceptance from Balliol College. How can I not respond? I was mentally juggling how we could take care of Kieron if I went to see him. Your parents were an option before all this happened, or I could have taken him with me. The only option that I had ruled out was for you to take time off. The world would stop. Don’t pretend sympathy Olivia, you hardly know my family, they were never good enough for your lot. Dad was a humble dogsbody in Smithfield Market, unlike ‘Pa-par,’ a big shot in the Royal navy. My Dad has only seen Kieron twice in his whole life, because he ain’t never been invited to come here. Anyway, you should have known that I wouldn’t leave you for another woman. Why would I want another one of those? Once the physical side got in the way of your ambition, there was nothing left in our relationship to keep it together, except our son. I’m not leaving Kieron, Olivia, it’s you I need out of my life. I’m a London boy, and I only moved here to help your career to flourish. I did everything for your career, because I fell in love with you when we were so young, but it ain’t ever been enough, has it? Those people we used to be have moved on, so you’ve got no burden to bear now. I’ve looked after Kieron all of his life, so he can come and live with me. He doesn’t see enough of you to think of you as his mother. Just for once, put someone’s welfare before your own. Surely that’s possible, even for you?”
Olivia never cried, but this was ‘the straw and camel’ pivot, and her lips began to tremble, the salt stung her eyelids, and she almost buckled. “No, it isn’t possible Tom. Not now, not until we have our son back. Not until we work out how we can get him to understand why his beloved Mum and Dad can’t sort out their differences. He deserves that, and nothing less will do. If you’ve managed to survive my dedication to being the family provider for all these years, it isn’t much to ask that you see this nightmare through. Then, do whatever you think best for yourself, but don’t you dare suggest Kieron is going to leave with you. And, for the record, I’m truly sorry about your father, you must go and see him, it’s just a question of when. In a practical sense there isn’t much we, as two individuals, can do to physically search for Kieron. The police have looked all over the immediate area and found nothing but a dirty scarf. Our time would be better spent helping and directing the police in other ways. Such as giving Prentice all we can about our boy. I do have confidence in him Tom. You’ve always said I’m the pragmatic one, and I really believe that the two of us simply running around the city of Newcastle looking for Kieron is a chaotic approach. I’ll book some leave tomorrow, God, look at the time, actually it will be later today.”
The rest of the journey was completed in silence.
*
After only one run through the message, Olivia asked them to repeat one particular section over and over. “Well?” said Prentice.
“I’m not sure why, but the voice has me confused. It seems as if I’ve heard it somewhere, but not speaking with that accent, and not so deliberately. Maybe I’m just clutching at straws.”
“We need to make another copy of the recording,” said Prentice, “in case the original gets accidently erased, and also because we can play about with a copy, at least our audio boys can. Now, let me see Kieron’s room, and just talk me through everything he might get up to in the rest of the house. I’ll need an up to date photograph as well.”
After an hour they were all getting a little drowsy. Prentice attempted to summarise what he’d been told, as he hadn’t written anything down.
“He only stays in his room if it gets too busy or noisy downstairs. Too many people, and loud music, or conversation freaks him out. He never forgets his routines, such as cleaning his teeth, washing his hands after using the toilet. Turning off lights not in use, and closing doors is a big deal for him, he even reminds both of you to do so. He likes to help clearing away dishes after meals because he isn’t comfortable with clutter, despite him only being six years old. He doesn’t demand much attention unless these broad parameters aren’t met. He doesn’t get on with groups of other children, but is fine with certain boys or girls on a one-to-one basis. When he’s on his computer, he is completely absorbed, and doesn’t want to interact with anyone, but doesn’t argue about going to bed when it’s time. He’s apprehensive when outdoors, including the garden. Pets bother him when they won’t stay still. His trust in the two of you is unconditional. He rarely disputes an answer from either of you to a question he may have asked. He doesn’t collect things like other kids do, such as stamps, cards, figurines etc. He occasionally recites something he’s discovered on his computer, inviting your comments, as long as they are brief. He can’t function in a normal classroom, and that’s where you come in Tom. You can be his teacher during conventional school hours. This is a good start.”
Tom asked what Prentice hoped to get out of this cursory picture of Kieron.
“Two things. First, I want to organise a television appeal, local and national. Quite often little things flush out clues. I want to do this as soon as possible because, like it or not, Christmas becomes lockdown for the police. The public isn’t interested in anything else but goodwill to all, as long as it’s family. I don’t need to tell you that the first few days of finding a missing child are crucial. Secondly, I’d like to get one of our experts on to his computer. You may not know about everything he looks at on his browser, even with the parental lock on. Some people out there can squirm through all kinds of protective software. It needs to be checked, that’s all. Are we ok with that?”
Olivia nodded a little more enthusiastically than Tom.
“Fine, it’s getting late. Can you both come back to the station in the morning?”
Again there was affirmative body language. Then Tom asked about London. “My father’s dying, and I have to go and make my farewell with him sometime. Ideally, I’d like that to be tomorrow, so that I can get back here as soon as possible. Olivia says she can be available for you at any time. I could take a flight tomorrow morning and be back tomorrow evening. Is that a problem? Actually, forget it, I can’t l
eave in these circumstances.”
“Not at all, just give me the hospice landline number where I can reach you, and your mobile as well. We’ll take it from there. Right, I’ll see you in the morning, Olivia.”
“Thanks anyway, detective, I’m torn but I can’t abandon my son. I’ll stay.”
The tears welled up in Tom’s eyes, and his breathing became erratic. Olivia took his hand and told Prentice what she’d said to her husband in the car. “I think he should go to see his father tomorrow. His fate is definite, and almost upon him. We still have hope that Kieron will be found in good health, and can I ask you what else you can’t get from me that you could get from Tom, if he was away for a few hours?”
Prentice confirmed her view. “Call me as much as you like while you’re in London, Tom. I’ll keep Olivia up to date with any developments, and she can hang around the station all day tomorrow, so that I can check stuff out with her, and she can then keep you up to speed. And anyway, uniform will broaden their search area systematically tomorrow. As long as I can reach you on the phone, I’m ok with you being down there for a while. I don’t know what you’ll achieve by just sitting up here fretting. It’s your call.”
*
Forensics had potentially struck pay-dirt. Preliminary investigation of Kieron’s tablet had only two different fingerprints on the touchscreen. It was assumed that the smaller ones were his. Interestingly, there was one other isolated full print plus a partial of that same print superimposed on one of the small ones. Tom and Olivia had forgotten to mention that the boy had been taught to clean the screen after every session, before switching off. The lab had the parents’ prints and DNA from their earlier visit. It was a starting point.
Chapter 6
Prentice stared out of his office window, hearing but not seeing the traffic. The fog was taking longer to burn off than the forecast had indicated. Despite just a few hours of sleep, he’d already got agreement from the local TV stations to mount an appeal to the public that evening, for a missing boy. There was to be no insinuation that he’d been abducted at this stage. The national schedules were much more difficult to influence, and they hadn’t yet been able to confirm when it could be shown. He was pleased to see Martha Hall in so early. She squeezed the door open a fraction. “Do you have a minute?”