by GS Rhodes
“Maybe some of them would recognise her,” Campbell reasoned. “She was beautiful, how could you forget a face like that?”
“Mostly because those parents weren’t likely thinking with their dicks, DC Campbell.” Kidd groaned as they walked back to the Incident Room.
Kidd had let Mr Petersen go, apologising for any distress they’d caused and thanking him for his time. But really, all that they’d accomplished was to tighten the ball that had formed in his gut and make his sense of urgency to find Joe Warrington all the more pressing.
“You want me to get confirmation on the anniversary, sir?” DC Campbell asked.
“That would be great, thank you, DC Campbell,” Kidd replied.
He walked over to his computer and logged in for the first time since he’d returned to the force. Just as he had done on his computer at home the night before, he started to look at Joe Warrington’s social media, desperately looking for a clue as to where he might be.
The last thing that he’d posted was the video of DI Kidd grabbing hold of his arm. It had gone a bit viral, with enough people tagging the Met Police and asking them what on earth they were going to do about this brutality for it to gain some traction. Kidd ignored it and kept scrolling, looking for anything that would give him a lead.
His phone rang next to him, buzzing loudly on the desk and drawing the attention of DC Ravel and DC Powell from behind their desks. Kidd held up a hand in apology and picked his phone up, seeing DS Sanchez’s name across the screen. He answered quickly.
“Hello?”
“I was trying to call you a second ago,” she said. “It went to voicemail.” Kidd could hear the sound of traffic around her and figured she was already been on her way back.
“I was in an interview,” Kidd said. “What have you got for me?”
“Nothing good I’m afraid,” she replied. She told him about her conversation with TJ Bell, how he hadn’t seen Lydia since they’d been there yesterday afternoon and that he was going to keep her updated. It was enough to have DI Kidd sitting back in his chair, worried.
“That’s not good.”
“I know.”
Kidd sighed, his voice crackling against the receiver. “Thanks, Zoe. Get back here as quick as you can.”
“Nearly there,” she said.
As he hung up the phone DC Powell looked up from behind his computer screen. “Developments, sir?”
“Lydia Coles hasn’t been seen since yesterday afternoon,” he announced to the room. “I need someone checking her social media, someone to call the university, DC Powell, can you—?”
“On it, sir.”
“DC Ravel—”
“Pulling up her social media now, sir,” she said.
“Anything for me to do, sir?” DC Campbell asked.
“Yes,” Kidd said. DC Campbell looked like he was about to burst with the anticipation of it all. “If you can find where DS Sanchez got the good coffee yesterday, that would be amazing, I’m absolutely gasping.”
DC Campbell visibly deflated and then left the room.
Kidd turned back to his computer and continued looking through Joe’s social media. It felt like he was missing something, something that had been right in front of his face. He could mentally cross Evan Petersen off his suspect list now. The only lead he had was Joe Warrington, and if he was totally honest with himself, Colin Hansen.
He didn’t want to believe it was Colin. After everything he’d been through, that was the last thing he wanted to think. But he couldn’t count him out yet, not until he had confirmation from Belmarsh that he hadn’t been there, that his story checked out.
Joe was a different story. Colin had said Joe was asking an awful lot of questions. That was either a journalist’s—or apparently a filmmaker’s—morbid fascination, or it was him scouting for tips. If Joe was already out and about last night, it also tracked that he could’ve been the one who’d attacked him by the river. If Joe wanted to scare him off because he was getting too close, then that tracked too.
The door to the Incident Room opened and Zoe breezed inside, heading straight over to Kidd’s desk. She looked worried. Kidd imagined he was reflecting the same thing back at her.
“What’s the next move?” she asked.
“I’ve got DC Ravel looking up her social media to see if she’s been online and DC Powell is calling the university to see if she’s been there,” he said. “Other than putting a callout on official channels to see if anyone has seen her, I’m not sure what to do.”
“We can’t be sure when she was last seen,” DS Sanchez said. “We’ll have to wait.”
“If we wait too long it might be too late.”
The door to the Incident Room opened again, more furiously this time, DC Campbell marching back into the room at breakneck speed, a panicked look on his face.
Kidd looked at him, noticing the missing coffee cups in his hands. He really did look freaked.
“What?” Kidd said, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. What was he playing at? “It’s just coffee, Campbell, Jesus, there’s no need to get in a state about it.”
“No, it’s not that,” Campbell said. “It’s Diane, sir.”
Kidd narrowed his eyes. “What about her?”
“She just came to get me,” Campbell said. “There’s someone at the front desk who wants to talk to you. Goes by the name of Warrington.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Kidd felt his stomach drop. It all felt a little bit too easy. DC Campbell looked panicked and Zoe was staring daggers into the side of his head. If looks could kill.
“He wouldn’t,” Zoe said flatly. “There has to be some mistake.”
Campbell shrugged.
“Might need more than a shrug, DC Campbell,” Zoe snapped.
“Diane didn’t give me anything more,” DC Campbell replied. “Just said there was someone called Warrington at the front desk and she seemed distressed.”
The words snagged on DI Kidd’s brain. “Wait a minute, she?”
“Yes,” DC Campbell replied.
DI Kidd nodded. “Thank you, Campbell, now please go and find that coffee, I have a feeling I’m going to need it.”
Kidd walked out of the Incident Room, closely followed by Zoe, no doubt keen to see exactly what was going on. When they made it out to the reception area, there was only a woman standing there. She was short, her dyed brown hair a little grey at the root cut into a bob, a nervous smile drifting across her face as the two officers locked eyes on her.
Her hands were placed in front of her, she was practically wringing them. Her eyes darted to the door as if considering a quick getaway, and then back to Kidd and Zoe.
“Mrs Warrington!” Zoe exclaimed, her face bursting into a smile and walked over to greet her. DI Kidd, on the other hand, turned to Diane with a questioning look. She lifted an eyebrow and shrugged. It seemed she didn’t know why Mrs Warrington had decided to come here either. They’d have to hear it straight from the horse’s mouth, as it were.
Zoe walked over to Kidd who was still waiting by the door, ushering the incredibly nervous Mrs Warrington forward. She looked like she might burst into tears at any moment.
“Mrs Warrington just had a couple of things to tell us,” Zoe said with a soft smile. “You got a few minutes to take her through and have a chat?” she asked, widening her eyes when Mrs Warrington wasn’t looking. Kidd had a sneaking suspicion this was going to be good.
“Diane, do we—?”
“Interview Room Three is free,” she said. “Do you want a cuppa, my love?” Diane asked with a smile. “You look like you could do with one, it’s glacial outside.”
Mrs Warrington smiled, seeming to relax a little. “That would be lovely, thank you.”
Kidd and Zoe took Mrs Warrington through to Interview Room Three, Kidd silently hoping that the darkly painted walls and claustrophobic nature of the room wouldn’t put her off whatever it was she was about to tell them. Zoe opted to sit with Mrs Warri
ngton, DI Kidd taking one of the seats opposite. At least that way it wouldn’t look like an interrogation.
Diane popped in and dropped off a cup of tea in a polystyrene cup for Mrs Warrington. She wrapped her hands around it and held it close. It stopped her from wringing them for a few moments, and she looked a few shades calmer than she’d done out in the reception.
“So, Mrs Warrington,” Kidd started. “I understand DS Sanchez went to see you earlier on today. Is everything okay?”
“I’m not under arrest, am I?” she asked suddenly. “I don’t want any trouble, just…” she trailed off, her eyes finding the bubbles at the top of her tea and focussing on them with such intensity you’d be forgiven for thinking she was trying to part it like the Red Sea.
“It’s okay, Mrs Warrington,” Zoe said softly. “This isn’t an interview, we’re not recording anything, none of this is going to be used against you. This is just a chat. You wanted to come in and talk to us, so… whenever you’re ready.” Mrs Warrington turned to face Zoe, her face lighting up a little bit at her kind nature. She really was good at the human interaction part of all this. While Kidd had a tendency to fly off the handle if he felt like someone was withholding information, Zoe knew exactly how to get them to talk.
“I don’t really think it’s anything,” Mrs Warrington said. “But Philip, you met my husband, Philip. He didn’t want to give anything away. He’s… funny with the police.”
“I heard,” Kidd said, trying to keep the icy tone of derision out of his voice and likely not succeeding by the way Zoe turned her head to glare at him.
“Well, he said that he hadn’t seen Joe for a day or so,” she said. “The truth is, we’ve not seen Joe for a couple of weeks now.” She was struggling to hold it together, that much Kidd could see. The combination of her son being missing and seemingly betraying her husband tumbling down on her all at once. “I was starting to get worried, but he was answering texts and phone calls, so I assumed he was just busy with school. He stays in a house nearer to the university, wanted to have the full experience.” She shook her head. “I know it’s probably nothing, but I wanted to say more than what Philip said. It didn’t seem right to keep it from you, especially if he might be in trouble.” She looked from Zoe to DI Kidd, her eyes a little glassy, tears already forming and threatening to break the dams of her eyelids and cascade down her already red face. “Is he, Detective? Is he in some kind of trouble?”
DI Kidd looked to Zoe and then back to Mrs Warrington. He took a breath, knowing that, in some ways, this was a sink or swim moment. He didn’t want to panic her any more than she already was, but maybe this would help get them a little more information or at least some insight into the kind of boy Joe was. It could help.
“We wanted to speak to Joe about a murder investigation,” DI Kidd said flatly. “He’s been reporting on it on his social media channels, and we know that he knew both the victim and someone else who is now missing.” He cleared his throat. “I don’t want to worry you, Mrs Warrington, but I do want you to know just how important it is that we find him.”
“Oh my goodness,” she gasped.
“We’re not saying your son is responsible,” DI Kidd said firmly. “But we want to find him, make sure he’s okay. Rule him out if it’s not him, do you understand?”
Mrs Warrington nodded, trying to compose herself. The importance of this seemed to weigh on her quite heavily, dragging her shoulders down and deepening the lines in her face.
“Do you have any idea as to where he might be?” Kidd asked. “Where we might find him? We’ve checked your house, we’ve checked with the university and no one seems to have any idea.”
“I’m not sure,” Mrs Warrington said. “Things changed after he moved out to go to university. He didn’t come home as much, he became more private. If I ever tried to ask him anything, he’d get defensive. Philip told me not to worry about it, that he was just growing up and didn’t need me coddling him all the time. So I tried to stop.”
The tears broke free now and started to run down her face. Zoe, much better in these kinds of situations than Kidd, quickly wrapped an arm around the woman’s shoulder and squeezed her tight. There was obviously a lot going on for her. A child fleeing the nest was just one part of it. She felt like she’d lost touch with him and now this…
“Mrs Warrington, I understand this must be very difficult for you,” Kidd said. “But you understand the severity of the situation, yes?”
Mrs Warrington nodded.
“Good,” he said, forcing a smile. “If you think of anything over the next day or so, anywhere he could be. Or if you hear anything, you just let me know, okay? I’ll give you my card and you can call me whenever.” He looked at her earnestly. “About this, or anything else happening at home, okay?”
Mrs Warrington considered him carefully. DI Kidd reached into his jacket pocket and took out a card, sliding it across the table to her. She hesitated at first, and Kidd wondered whether her husband was the kind of man who looked through her pockets, looked through her purse. But she took it and put it away.
“Thank you,” she said quietly.
There was a knock at the interview room door, it opened to reveal DC Ravel who greeted them with a smile. She started when she saw Mrs Warrington, quickly shifting her focus to Kidd.
“Sir, I wondered if I could speak with you for a moment?” Her eyes darted to Mrs Warrington and back to Kidd again. “It won’t take a second, if you’re busy…?”
“No, no,” DI Kidd said. “I think we’re just about finished here.” He turned his attention to Mrs Warrington one more time. “Thank you for your time, Mrs Warrington, I really appreciate it.”
“My Joe is no killer,” she blurted. “I know my boy and I know he’s no murderer, he couldn’t do that to those girls he just—” She gave a strangled cry as she started sobbing again.
“It’s okay,” DS Sanchez said softly. “No one is accusing him of that just now. We just want to get to the bottom of this.” She looked up at Kidd. “You go, I’ll be alright.”
“Thank you again, Mrs Warrington.”
CHAPTER THIRTY
DI Kidd followed DC Ravel out into the corridor. A couple of uniformed officers squeezed by them, nodding at Kidd on the way past, DC Ravel was looking up at Kidd expectantly.
“What do you have for me?” he asked.
“I finally heard from Belmarsh, sir,” she said.
“Great,” Kidd said, his voice coming out a little louder than he was expecting. Finally, a little bit of progress on that front. Maybe it would give them a new lead. Having spoken to Mrs Warrington, there was a part of him that was hoping it wasn’t Joe after all, even with all signs pointing to him. She already seemed devastated. “Do we need to go back to the Incident Room?”
“We can if you want, sir.” She shrugged. “But it’s a pretty easy list to reel off.”
“How do you mean?”
“The only person that has gone to see Albert Hansen in prison is Colin,” DC Ravel said. “Sometimes he would bring a guest, but every single name in the book for the last twelve months was Colin Hansen.”
DI Kidd deflated. Could he have lied to them? Would he have? He’d seemed so skittish, so distressed when they’d gone to see him, could that all have been a ruse? Like father, like son?
He remembered all those years ago, how Albert had managed to convince them time and time again that it wasn’t him, that the whole thing was cutting him up inside, when he was the one doing the cutting. It wasn’t beyond the realm of possibility that Colin could be lying to them too.
Kidd sighed.
“Sorry, sir,” DC Ravel said. “I wish I had better news.”
“So do I,” Kidd replied. “But no need to apologise. We just need to keep moving on.”
“Oh, one other thing,” she said. “Another little message from Diane, apparently Colin’s been on the phone again. He’s still not happy with having the press outside his house. Wants you to go and chec
k it out.”
“Me?”
DC Ravel shrugged. “That’s what Diane said.”
Kidd understood that. He’d been Colin’s connection to the case all those years ago, a familiar face. He couldn’t begrudge him that.
They walked back to the Incident Room, coming in to find that Campbell had tracked down some coffee—though, after a single sip it was clear that it wasn’t the nectar of the gods that Zoe had given him yesterday—and DC Powell was still glued to his computer. Both of them popped up like meerkats when he walked into the room.
“Anything?” Campbell asked.
“It was Mrs Warrington,” Kidd said. “Joe’s mother. It’s been a couple of weeks since she last saw her son. So not unhelpful, but not exactly giving us much to go on either. Anything new here?”
“Still checking on Joe’s social channels,” DC Powell said. “Nothing since he posted the video of you chasing him before getting clonked in the face.”
Kidd turned to him sharply and Powell visibly shrank at his desk.
“Campbell’s words, sir, not mine.”
DI Kidd swung round to Campbell who was smiling at him sheepishly. “Just a joke, DI Kidd,” he said. “Harmless bit of fun.”
Kidd raised an eyebrow. “Really?” he said. “Well, if you like, for a harmless bit of fun, how about you get clonked in the face by my elbow and we’ll see if you’re still smiling about it—”
“Got a sighting, sir!” DC Powell announced.
“Sorry?”
“Sighting of Joe Warrington outside his home,” Powell said. “PCs were on their beat, wandering around the roads and such, and saw someone they thought looked familiar. Trying to get visual confirmation now.”
“Fuck visual confirmation,” Kidd said, already heading for the door. “Campbell, shift it. Where?”
Powell shouted the address out as Kidd and Campbell hustled to the door, nearly crashing into DS Sanchez in the doorframe.
