by ML Rose
“Okay. Send me their address.”
“I will, but don’t turn up there by yourself. Harry will come with you. He’ll drive you there. No SOC vans outside the house, or tents.”
Arla hung up and, almost immediately, there was a knock on her door. It opened slightly and somewhere near the top of the doorframe, Harry’s face appeared. He looked almost like a giraffe, she thought, the rest of his body hidden behind the door.
“I got the others, as you asked,” he said.
“Okay, bring them in.”
CHAPTER 17
Harry parked the car in the hospital car park and got out. He opened the door for Arla, who took some time, but got out on her own. Arla was carrying a shoulder bag with her maternity notes and police radio inside. Hand in hand, they walked towards the imposing red brick façade of the hospital. They entered the spacious foyer and turned left, heading for maternity antenatal classes.
Harry asked, “Sure you don’t want me to stay?”
She shook her head firmly. “You’re stepping in for me, Harry. Take Parmentier to the Stone residence and then direct the others to search the woods. You’re going to lead the search, right?” She looked up to glance at him.
Harry met her eyes with a downward curl of his lips. “I’d rather be back here, and take you home.” Home, for the time being, was Arla’s apartment in Tooting Broadway, South London. Luckily for them, the hospital was only two blocks away from her apartment. Harry had his own place in Battersea, a few stops down the bus route, but for the time being, he had moved in with her.
“Please don’t walk back,” Harry said, his lips pressing into a firm line. “Promise you will call a cab, or I’ll be back here in one hour’s time.”
That made her smile. Harry towered above her, his broad shoulders blocking out the tepid sunlight streaming in through the corridor windows. “I’ll call an Uber, don’t worry.”
She kissed Harry goodbye at the entrance of the antenatal classroom and walked in. A midwife called Lauren was standing in the centre of the room, surrounded by a ring of heavily pregnant women. Arla had gotten to know several of them, and she smiled and waved.
She scanned their faces for Kylie Denham, whom she had become closest to over the last couple of months. Kylie had her back to Arla, and when she turned, her face lit up in a huge smile. She gestured towards Arla and patted the empty chair next to her. Arla squeezed her hand when she sat down.
“Thanks for saving a seat for me,” she whispered into Kylie’s ear.
“Not a problem. Everything okay at work?” Kylie’s grey eyes had flecks of gold in them and their pupils constricted as she stared at Arla.
“Yes, everything’s fine. Just busy,” Arla said smoothly. Only Kylie knew that she was a police officer. But she didn’t know what grade Arla held. When asked, Arla had merely replied she was a detective, and yes, an inspector. Kylie hadn’t probed any further, for which Arla had been grateful.
“How about you? How’s Greg?” she whispered back.
“Oh, he’s fine. Just busy with work, same as you, I guess.” Greg was Kylie’s husband. Kylie mentioned how he had come to drop her and then pick her up on a couple of occasions, but each time, Arla had missed him. This was the couple’s first baby, and she and Kylie had bonded over the fact that they were the only women in the ten-strong group who were first-time mothers. Kylie had also confided to Arla how she and Greg had been through a rocky patch, but were now through it, and were looking forward to starting a family.
Lauren shot them a look and both women went quiet. The midwife raised her voice. “Can we have a vote on what is the most pressing problem today for everyone.” She counted off on her fingers, “Moving around, need to pee, difficulty in sleeping.”
All ten hands rose for the last option. Lauren stepped back and moved the whiteboard to the corner of the room. She took two pillows and a mat, which she laid down on the floor. “Ladies, could you please move your chairs back a little.” As the women obliged, Lauren lay down on the mat. She showed them how to lie to the left and keep a cushion below the belly and also a cushion between their legs while they slept. One by one, the women rose and lay down on the mat to practise.
“If I lie down,” Kylie said, “I might not get up.”
Arla agreed. “Sometimes I have to ask Harry to pull me out of bed.”
Kylie bent her head, staring down at her folded hands. The women were taking turns to lie down on the mat, and no one could hear them speak. “The closer it gets, the more anxious I become. Just hope this time it goes okay.”
Arla touched Kylie’s elbow. She knew Kylie had experienced two miscarriages before and how much this baby meant to her. She had been through in-vitro fertilisation and had spared no expense in getting the best treatment. “Of course it will be,” Arla said softly. “You’ve come this far; now there’s no going back.”
“I hope so.” Kylie sighed. “But even after thirty-three weeks, you can get early rupture of membranes, and the baby could be born premature.”
“Even if they are, babies born at thirty weeks can survive these days. You know that, don’t you?”
Kylie swallowed hard, nodded, then looked at Arla. Unshed tears brimmed in the woman’s eyes. Arla put a hand around her shoulder.
“After the class, shall we get a coffee?”
Kylie blinked, then rubbed the corner of her eyes. “Just a chamomile tea for me. Coffee makes me want to pee nonstop.”
Arla felt a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. It was nice to make new friends, and get out of her workplace. She liked Kylie, who was in her late thirties and had a successful graphic design company. Her husband had a career in finance, in the city, and both of them had worked hard to get where they were today.
The class came to an end, and Lauren stood at the centre of the room and raised her voice. “We need to be aware of headaches, ladies. If you get a headache, you must have your blood pressure checked, your urine tested, and be seen by a doctor. We spoke about preeclampsia last time. A headache is often the first symptom. Bottom line, if you feel funny, please have your blood pressure checked.”
The door opened and a few men walked in; they had been waiting outside the room for their wives. Arla and Kylie slipped out, heading towards the canteen.
CHAPTER 18
Roslyn May sat down on the open edge of the car boot and pulled on the winter shoes supplied by the London Met. The detective sergeant looked at Lisa Moran, her compatriot, who was doing the same. “Have you ever tried these boots on before?”
Lisa shook her head, her blonde tresses falling over her face as she bent down to tug firmly on the boots. They were like Wellingtons, coming up to knee-level, but fit more snugly due to the fur lining inside. She stomped both feet on the tarmac. “Surprisingly comfortable, actually.”
Roslyn did the same, grimacing. But when she stood and took a few steps, her face changed. “Yes, I could get used to this. Much better than those horrible flat shoes they make us wear.”
Lisa shrugged. “You don’t have to wear them. I bring my own black shoes.”
Roslyn said, “So did I. Till I ran after a pickpocket one day and ended up flat on my arse.” She chuckled.
A black BMW came to a halt behind them, and Harry and Rob got out of the unmarked CID car. The two women waited while the men got ready. Harry walked over to them and rubbed his hands together, breath misting in front of his face.
“Right. We spread out, but remain within ten feet of each other and within calling distance.” He extracted the radio from his coat pocket and so did Roslyn. Rob ambled up behind Harry, his ample midriff protruding, his gait stiff and uncomfortable.
“Blimey,” Rob said. “These boots have given me blisters already.”
Roslyn had a joke ready on the tip of her tongue, but thought better of it. “Suits us fine, Rob,” she said breezily. She exchanged a glance with Lisa and they grinned. Rob scowled at them.
Harry said, “Let’s check the Common first. Tha
t will be easier. Then we can tackle the woods, but I suggest we do it tomorrow, when the light will be better.”
He looked skywards, and others followed his gaze. It had gone past 1600 hours. and light was fading fast from the gunmetal grey sky. Thankfully, the rain had stopped. Molten snow squelched beneath their boots.
Roslyn pointed to one of the sumptuous mansions behind them. She had observed Harry pulling into its garage. “Is that Rebecca Stone’s residence?”
Harry nodded. “Yes. I dropped Parmentier and one of his friends inside. They’ll get busy indoors while we tackle this.”
Roslyn asked, “Excuse my ignorance, guv, but exactly what are we looking for?”
“That’s a good question, Roslyn. I think the baby clothes are the most important. So, a blue wraparound or a purple baby grow, as these were the items of clothing Reggie Stone was wearing at the time of his disappearance. Plus, anything to do with the baby stuff—bottles suckers, shoes, anything.” Harry clicked his fingers. “He was wearing black-and-white-striped socks and matching trainers. The blue wraparound had his full name and initials sewn in gold letters.”
“Okay, boss.” Roslyn shivered as she stared at the gloomy, darkening expanse of the Common. The skeleton trees stood close together, as if guarding a secret.
“Let’s get going,” Harry said. He was the first to descend the gentle grassy bank that sloped down into the trees.
Roslyn took one last look back at Rebecca Stone’s house. Four massive bay windows fronted the ground floor. As she looked, one of their curtains twitched. She narrowed her eyes, and watched the shadow shift behind the window. Someone was watching. She looked away and joined the others as they walked steadily into the Common.
Snow and grey mud sloshed beneath her boots as she went deeper inside.. She looked up at the tall, lonely trees that stood like sentinels, bearing close watch on those who entered their forest. She skirted past a fallen tree, and then had to step over a broken tree stump. Twigs snapped like bones beneath her boots. The cracking sound was loud in the total silence, making her shiver.
She looked to her left, but couldn’t see or hear Harry. The foreboding bank of trees seemed to hem her in. For no reason, her mind flitted back to the time she’d gotten lost as a child.
She’d been no more than ten years old and her family was having a picnic by the river. She went into the woods with her brother and got separated. Once she realised she was lost, she had screamed his name. He didn’t answer, and neither did her mummy.
She remembered the panic, the chest-bursting anxiety as hot tears had rolled down her cheeks. How alone she had felt, how forsaken. To her childish mind, it was like the end of the world. No one would find her again.
Roslyn shook her head, then stamped both feet on the ground. She splattered mud against a tree trunk. This was silly. She was an experienced detective sergeant, two years into the job and almost five years as a uniformed sergeant before that. Why on earth was she dragging up childhood memories for no reason? She glanced around the frozen landscape, and knew the answer. This place was giving her the chills. She gave herself a wry smile and lifted her chin up.
She walked on farther, and whirled around when she heard the snapping of twigs to her left. Breath caught in her chest when she saw a tall, dark shadow flick between two trees. She watched it move for a few seconds. “Guv? Is that you?” she shouted.
The shape stopped and then turned around. It was indeed Harry. He raised a hand and waved to her. “Found anything?” he shouted back.
Roslyn relaxed, a calm warmth floating into the tips of her fingers and toes. “Not yet,” she answered. She kept moving, stepping deeper into the trees of the Common. She looked around her on the ground, in a 180-degree circle, before taking the next step. Then she looked up as well, as she had been trained to do. Most people ignored clues above eye level when searching for objects on the ground.
She pulled out her Maglite torch and turned it on. Her eyesight was good but light was fading from the cloud-enveloped sky. She swung the torch beam around in an arc. Nothing in the trees. She pointed the light to the ground and came to a complete standstill. A small cloth, so tiny that she almost missed it. It was black-and-white striped, and mud had ensured it was well camouflaged. Only the powerful beam had picked it up.
It was a sock, and its size meant only a baby could wear it.
Her hands trembled as a space opened up in her chest, pressing the air out of her lungs. It was difficult to breathe but she stepped forward, then knelt. The beam wavered as her hands shook. She stretched out a gloved hand towards the sock, but something else caught her eye.
It was a doll, wrapped inside a see-through plastic wrapper. At least, it looked like a doll. The head was grey and misshapen, more swollen than it should be, eyes staring, wide open.
Fear surged inside Roslyn’s chest like a tsunami. Her mouth opened, and a silent scream forced its way from her lungs. She tried to move back, but ended up falling on the muddy ground.
The Maglite fell from her hands. The cruel beam of the torch lit up the dead baby’s face, half-covered in bracken snow. Roslyn’s hands were like claws, nails digging into the palms as she leaned forward, turning her back to the ghastly sight.
A primitive, guttural cry erupted from her throat. Her knees sank into the wet grave of the forest floor as she screamed and screamed again.
CHAPTER 19
“It’s his mother. She never liked me,” Kylie Denham confided, leaning forward towards Arla. “I’m two years older than Greg and she’s very old-fashioned.” Kylie waved a hand in the air. “She thinks a woman should always be younger than her husband. I mean, in this day and age, who cares?”
Arla shrugged. “Some people don’t change. But she must be happy now, expecting to become a grandmother soon?”
The flecks of gold in Kylie’s eyes glowed as her lips stretched in a smile. “Yes, you’re right. I’ve seen a little softening in her recently. She even invited us for Sunday lunch for the first time last week.”
“There you go.”
The smile faded from Kylie’s face. “But I just hope everything goes well. My last miscarriage was late at twenty-four weeks and it was horrible, truly horrible. I was in hospital for three days, and depressed afterwards.”
Arla reached out and squeezed her hand once. “Don’t worry. You’re past that stage now, way past. You’ll be fine.”
Arla had put her phone on the table. It was on silent mode as she had been in the antenatal class. She had forgotten to switch it back on. A red light was flashing on the side.
She clicked her tongue on the roof of her mouth and went through the four missed calls. They were all from Harry. “Excuse me,” she said to Kylie and rose from her seat. She walked to an end of the canteen that wasn’t crowded and called him. “It’s me. What’s up?”
“We found the missing baby,” Harry said in a grim voice. He filled her in, and Arla was glad she was leaning against the wall. She gripped her forehead, a wave of nausea rising in her stomach.
“I’ll call Dr Banerjee. I’ll see you back at the station,” she instructed.
“Sure you don’t want me to come and pick you up? I’m still at the crime scene. Parmentier hasn’t finished yet.”
“You stay there. Just meet me back at the station.” She hung up and went back to the table, where Kylie looked up at her with an inquisitive expression.
“Just work.” Arla lifted a palm in the air. “It can get busy without warning for me.” She grabbed her tote bag and put it on her shoulder. Kylie rose as well.
“At least with my job, I can do most of it from home, unless I have to meet a new client,” Kylie replied.
The two women walked side by side to the hospital’s main entrance.
Kylie continued. “You must come to our house one day. I live in Battersea, not far from here. Just straight down Wandsworth Bridge Road.”
Arla smiled at her. “Of course. Looking forward to it.” She waved goodbye and left K
ylie at the bus stop outside the hospital. She had no time to waste. She had already called an Uber and by the time she reached the main road the car was pulling up. She was on the phone as the Uber drove off. Dr Banerjee’s mellow, warm voice came down the line.
“If it isn’t my favourite police detective. How can I help?”
“Flattery won’t get you anywhere this time, I’m afraid, doc. I’ve got a bad one for you.”
In a low voice, and without giving much detail, she told him about the case. The veteran pathologist went quiet for several seconds. When he spoke, his voice was a whisper. “My God. You know, this is the type of case every doctor fears. Adults die before their time and it’s sad. But this. . . .” His voice trailed off.
Arla was staring out the window, watching the traffic rush past. “I’m sorry, doc. Can I please ask you to drop what you’ve got and head down to the crime scene? Harry’s there already, with a uniformed squad.”
Dr Banerjee sighed wearily. “Okay, give me the address. Do we have a positive identification?”
“I haven’t seen the body myself, and in my current state walking that far into the forest isn’t really feasible. But the blue wraparound with baby’s name on it and the purple baby grow seems to seal it. Now we have to wait for fingerprints and DNA analysis.”
“Okay. I’m on my way.”
“Thanks, doc.”
Arla picked up the phone and dialled Johnson. She knew that Harry hadn’t told him yet. After she broke the news to Johnson, there was a prolonged silence on the other end. Then her boss cursed.
“What about the surrounding area? Any clues to who might have done this?”
“Not yet, sir. Baby was wrapped up in a plastic bag. Banerjee is on his way, and I don’t know what sort of injuries the body has. As to the perpetrator. . . .” Arla’s voice trailed off.
She continued after a pause. “We have to open this up as a formal investigation now, sir. This is a murder inquiry, and has to be dealt with by the official channels.” She knew Johnson had to agree, and he did.
