“I’ve got a couple of questions I need to ask,” I said, “and then I’ve got a video I’d like you to look at, is that okay?”
“What’s in the video?” Alicia asked immediately, her brows folded in concern.
“It shouldn’t be distressing,” I tried to reassure her, “I’d just like Lawrence and you to have a look and tell me what you think.” I pulled the conversation back on track, turning to Lawrence as I said, “But first, I’m afraid I need to ask if there’s anything else you can tell me about when you were held. Especially anything that might be relevant to your parents.”
Lawrence’s hard expression lasted until I mentioned his parents. Then it crumbled, and he clenched his jaw as he turned away from me. My heart hurt for him, but I made myself stay quiet and wait. Alicia fidgeted in her seat, looking distinctly uncomfortable, but she stayed silent too.
Lawrence rubbed a hand over his hair, which had been given a trim since I’d last seen and looked much better. “First,” he said stiffly, his head bowed, “you’ve got to promise something.” He sounded young as he spoke, but deadly serious all the same.
I leaned backwards slightly in surprise. “What do you want me to promise?” I asked.
He looked up, fixing me with his dark eyes that had experienced so much more pain than he ever should have. “Promise you won’t stop looking for them,” he said, quiet and urgent. “If I tell you, you won’t give up on them, on my dad.”
I noticed how he’d mentioned his father specifically, not his mother, but didn’t comment on it. I’d been worried that he’d ask for something I couldn’t promise, but this, I could.
“Lawrence,” I said solemnly. “I’ll do everything in my power to find your parents. Anything you tell me will help. I’m not giving up on them.”
Lawrence swallowed and gave me a shaky nod, before pulling his shoulders back as he straightened up.
“While I was there,” he said, his voice strained, “right near the end, before they- they left. I overheard them saying something about a meet-up.” He clenched his jaw again. “And something… something about someone getting shot.”
My stomach twisted at his pained words, though the police detective side of me was excited by the possible confirmation of the scene we’d seen in the dales, with the empty shell casings.
“Did they say who, Lawrence?” I asked quietly.
Lawrence closed his eyes briefly. “I don’t know, but I- I don’t think it was one of them.”
I bowed my head slightly at the news and sat back to give Lawrence some space to get himself together again. His aunt came out of her chair to crouch at Lawrence’s other side, taking his hand in hers. This time, he didn’t shake her off, but only stared at the white bedsheets and shivered like he was cold.
“It was my fault,” he said suddenly. I broke off from where I’d been quietly making notes on what he’d told us and looked up sharply.
“It wasn’t-” Alicia started.
Lawrence pulled away from her, his face twisted up in an expression that could have been mistaken for anger, but looked closer to guilt to me.
“It was,” he said, hard and firm. “I was so stupid. I messed up, I got myself attacked, it was my fault they had to get me back and then, and then,” he gritted his teeth, “probably got them both killed.”
His aunt flinched back, and Lawrence turned to me, his eyes large and desperate.
“Right? Everyone’s thinking it, aren’t they? Why wouldn’t they have shown up if they’re alive?” he demanded, his voice rising. “They’re both dead! And it’s my- my-”
“Lawrence-”
“Shut up!” he snapped. “Leave me alone, okay, go away.”
I winced. Alicia turned towards me, and I knew she was about to shoo me out, just as I would have done if our roles had been reversed.
“Lawrence, I need to show you this video,” I said. “I don’t want to get either of your hopes up,” I tried to mitigate their disappointment if the video wasn’t of Lawrence’s mum like I thought it was, “but I need your opinion on it.”
“Get my hopes up?” Lawrence repeated, looking up again with a frown. “Show me.”
I stopped myself from lifting an eyebrow at his imperious demand, because god knows his bossiness was better than the anguish that’d been in his voice before. I got out the tablet and Alicia slid herself onto the bed, so that she could see it too.
I pulled up the video clip and handed it to Lawrence, hoping that I was doing the right thing by showing him this.
Lawrence latched onto the tablet, jabbing the screen to make it play, while Alicia looked equally engrossed. The clip was short, and Lawrence’s frown deepened when it ended, and he replayed it.
I’d expected Lawrence to be the one to speak first, but it was Alicia. “That’s- that’s Ellie,” she said, soft but certain.
I looked closely at her. “You’re sure?”
Lawrence didn’t look sure and was frowning at the video, replaying it again.
“I’m sure,” Alicia said, her eyes still glued to the screen. “That’s how she walks. That’s her handbag. And she always-” She flicked her hand in a motion I recognised from the figure in the video, “does this hand thing when she gets something from her bag.”
“Lawrence?” I prompted gently, and Alicia looked down at her nephew, who was still frowning.
“I guess,” he said quietly. He turned to me. “Have you seen my dad?”
I blinked. “No,” I said quietly. “There’s been no sign of him.” I paused. “Do you recognise the person in that video?”
He looked back down at it. “I guess it looks kind of like her.”
That hadn’t been the emotional reaction I’d in any way expected, but grief could be like that, I knew. Apparent apathy could be a cover for suppressed emotion. Though he’d shown much more obvious concern for his father, and I wondered if he was closer with his dad.
Lawrence passed the tablet back to me, and I nodded, turning it off and tucking it away. “Thank you both for looking. I also have some questions about the,” I hesitated, “people who took you, if you can tell me what you remember about them.”
Alicia pressed her lips together and looked at me with open dislike. Lawrence just exhaled heavily.
“Yeah,” he said after a minute.
I’d wanted to ask him questions about the people who’d kidnapped him last time, but he’d become too upset for it. I didn’t want to leave it much later, though, because memory tended to deteriorate under the best of circumstances and these were hardly that.
So we spent the next half hour with Lawrence flatly relaying everything he could recall about the core three men who’d be in charge of him at the house, and the other few that visited.
“But they mostly wore balaclavas,” he told me, “so I didn’t see their faces or anything.” He looked away, out of the window. “It was the only thing that made me think I just might live, you know? In movies they always say that if you see their faces, they’re gonna kill you, right? So I hoped they really were gonna let me go, eventually.”
I noted that down with a nod. “It’s a reasonable deduction,” I agreed.
I turned over what he’d told me in my thoughts and wondered what the kidnappers’ plan had been exactly. Something had clearly gone wrong, but Lawrence was right. His kidnappers had kept him alive beyond when Lawrence seemed to be useful to them, and I wasn’t sure why, exactly, that was, though I was beyond glad of it, of course. Perhaps they’d had a shred of humanity, I mused, before remembering that cupboard Lawrence had been kept in and my lips twisted in disgust.
“Inspector?”
I looked up, realising that I’d zoned out, and found Alicia looking at me. She nodded meaningfully towards Lawrence, who looked exhausted, and I gave her a tight smile.
“Alright, that’s all,” I said and stood up, putting my notebook away. “Thank you both. I appreciate it a lot.”
Lawrence didn’t look up, and Alicia was focused on him, so
I quietly saw myself out and closed the door behind me. I briefly leaned against the wall outside, rubbing my head. I had a great deal to think over, and it left my head aching.
“Are you alright, sir?”
A nurse had come to a stop in front of me, looking concerned. I forced a smile. “I’m fine. Thank you.”
She gave me an unconvinced look. “Well, when I get worn out by it all,” she said, “I go and have a cup of tea and a breather in the break room. Vent to my colleagues. Can you do that?”
I raised my eyebrows at her, somehow both irritated and touched by her concern at the same time. “Thanks for the suggestion. Have a good day.”
I headed off before she could reply, not in the mood for small talk with strangers, especially nosy ones. Though a cup of coffee and a short break did sound tempting, I had to admit.
I treated myself to a Costa coffee on the way back to the station. I sipped it at my desk as I wrote up my notes from visiting Lawrence and outlined some of my thoughts after what Alicia and her nephew had told me.
Taking a late lunch, I texted Stephen to see how he was getting on while I munched on my sandwich.
Gaskell turned up as I was absently re-reading my notes, hoping something would jump out to me.
“Mitchell,” he said, giving me an expectant look.
I swallowed my last mouthful of cheese and pickle and stood up to follow Gaskell over to his office.
Gaskell gestured to the seat opposite his desk and sat down heavily in his own. “Alright, take a seat.”
“Sir?” I asked hesitantly. He looked more grim than usual, and I wondered what exactly it was that he wanted to talk to me about.
“I got a call from forensics, from Dr King.”
I perked up. “Aye?”
He gave a nod. “She said you were the one to find the grave-”
“Grave?” I said before I could stop myself, my stomach sinking.
Gaskell rubbed his stubbly chin. “Yes. They found a body, Mitchell.”
I swore under my breath. “Whose, sir?” I asked urgently.
Gaskell grimaced. “They’re not entirely sure. It definitely looked like it’s been in the ground for a month.”
So not Lawrence’s mum, I hoped, if it was her at that ATM. That left the possibility of it being his father, though I was trying to hold out hope that it was one of the kidnappers’ gang and Lawrence’s dad was still out there somewhere.
“The postmortem’s set for tomorrow, but they’ve said it’s a man, and he was stabbed in the stomach.” He hesitated. “There’s no sign of Mrs Wooding, then, I understand?”
“Actually, the tech team picked up that her card was used at an ATM. The video makes it hard to be certain, but it could be her. Her sister said she was certain it was Ellie Wooding. I’m looking into it further.”
Gaskell nodded, folding his arms over his chest as he leaned back. “Alright, good work. This has been upped to a murder investigation, you understand, Mitchell, so you’ll have more resources available to you now. I’m putting you in the lead, naturally.”
I quirked an eyebrow in faint surprise, before nodding. There was a feeling of sadness that Stephen wasn’t at my side for this, but he’d be back soon enough, and the show had to go on.
“Thank you, sir.”
“Good. Keep going. Your progress looks promising so far.”
“Aye, I’m hopeful, sir.”
“Do you know when Huxley will be back in?”
I was surprised that Stephen hadn’t let Gaskell know and shook my head. “Not sure, sir, sorry. I’ll keep you updated if he gets in touch.”
Gaskell sighed. “Alright. He should be with his kid, of course, but tell him to keep me in the loop.”
“Will do, sir.”
He dismissed me, and I headed back to my desk. I checked my phone for a message from Stephen and found a missed call from him instead. I called him back right away, the phone ringing for a long time before he finally picked up.
“Darren?” He sounded weary.
“Yeah, hi,” I said, in a careful voice. “How’re things?”
He sighed. “Her asthma’s been confirmed. The antibiotics for the pneumonia seem to be working, mostly, but Christ, I can’t stand hearing her cough like that.”
I winced sympathetically. “I’m sorry, Steph. Hang in there, alright, she’ll be okay.”
“I ruddy hope so,” he said gruffly.
“When was the last time you slept, aye?” I asked, concerned. “If it was your nap in the car, then you should go get-”
“Okay, okay,” he said, before laughing quietly. “I’ve been kipping when my girl does,” he reassured me. “I’m alright, relatively, you know.”
“Alright, good.” I paused. “Gaskell told me to tell you to keep in touch with him. He was supportive, though, o’course.”
Stephen exhaled. “Yeah, I need to call him too.”
“Aw, you called me first,” I teased gently. “Does that mean I’m your favourite?”
“Don’t let it go to your head,” Stephen warned, but I could hear the smile in his voice. “How’re things there?”
“There’s, ah, been developments,” I said vaguely.
“Alright.” Stephen didn’t push, knowing that case related discussions were best had in person. “I doubt I’ll be in tomorrow, what with my wife needing to get back to her work, but I should be in the day after.”
“Cool,” I said, slightly relieved. “But if you’re needed with your-”
“Mitchell, I can make a decision, okay?” he said, sounding tired again. “I know you mean well, but Annie and I are balancing things, and it works. There’s no point us both being there all the time. We stress each other out with worrying.”
I sighed. “Sorry, you’re right. It’ll be good to see you, mate.”
“Yeah, I miss your ugly mug too.”
I smiled. “Call Gaskell,” I reminded him.
“Yeah, yeah,” he huffed before he hung up and I sighed.
I missed him, but I had work to do in the meantime, and we couldn’t afford to put things on hold.
I was still working when it was long past time for me to have gone home, but I was deep in focus and not ready to finish up yet. I still had to run home, too, since I’d left my car at the flat today and, for once, I wasn’t looking forward to it. The weather had closed in, and it was dull and miserable out there.
I heard footsteps come up behind me but didn’t turn around. “You’re still here?” a woman’s voice asked.
“Keira?” I said, surprised. She came around to my side and gave me an amused look.
She looked pointedly at the half-full coffee mug in my hand. “How many coffees have you had?”
I gave her a sheepish smile. “A few.”
She cocked her head. Her hair was cleverly twisted into plaits today, which managed to look both casual and expertly crafted at the same time. “You seem as if you could do with some proper food, Mitchell.”
“Is that an invitation?” I asked, hoping that was how she’d meant it.
She smiled. “Yes. You haven’t texted me yet, so I’ll invite you instead.”
“Ah, sorry,” I winced. “Things have been a little hectic.”
“That’s what I assumed,” she said with a confidence I found enviable. “Are you coming, then?”
“Sure, let me just…” I saved what I’d done and shut my computer down. Shrugging on my coat, I smiled warmly at her. “Lead the way.”
She gave me a coy look. “As you wish, Mitchell.”
Eleven
Since I’d skipped my run the night before, I jogged into the station the next morning. Keira had given me a lift over to hers, and then I’d caught a taxi home at a stupid time in the morning. I hadn’t had much sleep, all in all, but I faced the day with a bounce in my step all the same. Stephen would’ve teased me mercilessly, I thought.
I had Keira on my mind, and it was like my thoughts had summoned her when she turned up at my desk, mid-mor
ning. I lowered my coffee cup to give her a smile, but her face was grim.
I stared worriedly at her. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
She handed over a piece of paper in silence, and I scanned it quickly. I recognised it as the bank transactions of the yacht shell company, and my heart sunk as I realised what it meant.
“There’s a new transfer of money,” I said quietly.
“Yes. It could be something else.”
I looked up at her and saw that she didn’t believe her own words. “Or it could be another ransom for another kid,” I said finally, when Keira didn’t seem to want to voice it. She just nodded.
I cursed, pinching the bridge of my nose. “How many missing kids are there in Yorkshire, for Christ’s sake?” I muttered.
“Let me know if I can help,” Keira said.
I gave her a weak smile. “Aye, thanks for letting me know.”
She gave me a nod, looking troubled, before she turned on her heel and walked away.
I groaned, giving myself a minute to be miserable, before I pulled myself up and headed for Gaskell’s office. I’d need those resources he’d promised me, now, and then some.
By the afternoon, Gaskell had assigned me a team, and we were all working, looking for likely missing children or teenagers.
“It’s going to be one that’s gone missing in the last week or so,” I’d briefed them, “and the parents will probably be wealthy. It’s possible that they’ll be missing too, but a low likelihood, I’d think. We’ll focus on York itself, and work outwards. Young children below ten may be less likely, since they took a seventeen-year-old last time, but don’t rule it out.”
We’d found a handful of likely candidates after several hours of looking, and I was achy and stiff from sitting still and being so tense. I was itching to go on a run to burn off my antsiness despite my tiredness, my run this morning, and the rain outside, but I couldn’t afford to leave things here just yet.
Stephen called a short while later, and I looked at my buzzing phone for a long moment, wondering whether I could stand to hear bad news from him, too. But I told myself not to be selfish and picked it up, heading out of the busy station and into the corridor.
The Stolen Children Page 9
