by Carol Wyer
‘Got details of 128 missing youngsters under the age of ten from the area since 2012, but only five are the right age to be our victim: Noah Lawson, Michaela Brown, Dee Horton, Poppy Islington and Ava Sawyer.’
‘Okay. We’ll concentrate on those five for now.’
‘Got something here, Natalie. It’s a press release from July 2015,’ said Ian.
Natalie scooted across and read out what he’d found:
The start of the school summer holidays saw over 300 locals join the hunt for five-year-old Ava Sawyer who disappeared during a children’s birthday party at Uptown Craft Centre and Farm on Friday, 24 July.
Ava was last seen in the Play Barn on-site, at approximately 4.30 p.m., and was wearing a yellow dress and cream shoes. Police are concerned for her welfare and are asking anybody who may have seen Ava, or have any information about her whereabouts, to come forward urgently.
‘That’s the site. It was Uptown Craft Centre and Farm before it became Poppyfields Garden Centre. Could be our girl,’ said Ian. ‘Is there a photo of her?’
Natalie scrolled down the article. ‘Yes.’
She turned the screen to reveal a picture of a girl in school uniform of white blouse and blue cardigan, with long blonde hair held back in a plait and wearing heavy-framed glasses that seemed too much for her delicate face. Her small fingers were interlocked and her hands were lifted in front of her, almost as if in prayer, but it was the smile that tore at Natalie’s heart. The girl looked so happy and full of life.
Lucy’s fingers had been flying over her keyboard the entire time Natalie had been reading. ‘Got it. She was reported missing in 2015. Never found. Suspected kidnapping.’
‘Okay. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. This might be a coincidence. We need confirmation. I’ll send this information across to Forensics and we’ll wait for confirmation of her identity.’
The house was in complete darkness when Natalie pulled onto her drive and parked behind David’s old Nissan. She’d be up and gone before he needed his vehicle to drop off the kids at school. She remained in the driving seat for a while and reflected on the latest development. She’d sent her team home and waited alone for the confirmation that came after midnight. The body was that of Ava Sawyer, the five-year-old who’d attended a birthday party at Uptown Craft Centre and Farm in 2015. The knowledge a child could be taken from such a happy event and turn up in a field had chilled her blood. It was going to be a testing case for her. She stared through the windscreen at her house, a place of sanctuary and safety, and was glad to be back home even if it was only for a few hours. She stepped out of the car, thumbed the torch app on her mobile to light the way, and entered. Josh’s school bag was packed and standing ready by the door. He’d never needed cajoling from his bed or encouragement to complete homework. He’d rise at 7.30 a.m. without fail and be ready to leave on time, bright-eyed and alert. Leigh, however, was the complete opposite. She’d sleep through all the alarms set on her mobile, require several shouts to rouse her and then have to be dragged from her bed, eyes thick with sleep. While Josh would be in the car, texting his mates, Leigh would be staggering around her bedroom, hunting for the elusive homework or a sock or a hairband, until either Natalie or David came to her aid and found whatever she needed and swept her out of the house. It was the same most school mornings: the yawn chorus, David called it. The thought made her smile.
She’d been hard on Josh, saying he couldn’t have the trainers. He was a good lad. She ought to cut him some slack. The braces had dealt his confidence a severe blow. He was at an awkward age – girls had finally hit his radar – and now, it was a cruel blow that he was unlikely to impress the opposite sex. Coupled with that, he’d been subjected to name-calling: ‘metal mouth’ and ‘Jaws’. The barbs had crept under his skin and Natalie knew they hurt. She’d agree to a pair and watch the smile creep across his handsome features. He’d have the last laugh. Once those braces were removed, every girl in his class would be making eyes at him.
She removed her boots and left them on the mat by the door, walking on tiptoes up the carpeted stairs. As she passed Josh’s room, she thought she heard the ping of a text message. She waited, ready to admonish him for texting so late, but heard no more and deduced she’d been mistaken. Leigh’s door was slightly ajar. She always slept with it open and a night light plugged into a socket. Leigh had always hated the dark. Natalie pushed the door open a little and peered in. Leigh was flat on her stomach, an arm and pyjama-clad leg hanging over the side of the bed. Natalie slipped in and tucked her arm back under the duvet. Leigh didn’t make a sound. She bent and kissed the top of her daughter’s head.
David was fast asleep, making light popping noises that would soon develop into seismic snores. She undressed in the bathroom and studied her reflection in the round mirror they’d bought from IKEA. What had Mike seen in her? She was a 43-year-old woman with a prominent nose and a wide mouth. She had nothing special to offer. Mike was far better suited to the Nicoles of the world: breezy, sexy, young women who were fun. Natalie had almost forgotten what fun was. In the bedroom, the snoring had begun. Natalie sighed and closed her eyes.
Four
WEDNESDAY, 26 APRIL – MORNING
The next day started with a scream. Natalie sat bolt upright in bed wondering if she’d dreamt it until she heard it again. It wasn’t human. It was answered by a high-pitched cry, no doubt from the large tabby cat next door. It was 5.05 a.m. She cursed the crepuscular animals and closed her eyes again in an attempt to drift back to sleep for an hour. The yowling intensified, dramatic sounds that sledgehammered their way through her brain. David shifted next to her, let out a groan and yanked the pillow over his head to muffle the noise.
Eventually the cries ceased, but by then Natalie was too wound up for sleep. She threw back her side of the duvet and got up.
Downstairs, she switched on the kettle, and while she waited for it to boil, she wondered how best to handle the Ava Sawyer investigation. She’d read some of the news items covering the child’s disappearance while at the station waiting for the confirmation they had uncovered Ava’s body. Ava’s parents, Beatrice and Carl Sawyer, had faced every parent’s worst nightmare and since 2015 had lived each day wondering if and when their daughter would be found alive. Today, they’d discover the one thing they’d clung onto for the last two years – hope – had finally been extinguished.
‘Hey!’
Her head jerked upwards, startled by the voice. David, barefooted and wearing lounge pyjamas that hung loose on his slender frame, was at the door. Mike would have filled the doorway, she thought. He offered a smile that transformed his face from sullen to good-looking in an instant and ran a hand through his unruly hair. He padded towards the kettle and pulled out a tin from the cupboard above it.
‘Sodding cats,’ he grumbled, tugging the lid from the brown ceramic teapot next to the kettle.
‘I’d have had to get up anyway,’ she said.
He picked up on her tone. ‘Want to talk about it?’
Natalie half-grimaced an apology. ‘Not much to say. We found the body of a little girl who went missing a couple of years ago. Have to break the news to her parents and then find out which bastard killed her.’ She stood motionless. The words had drained her and made her acknowledge the reality of what she was about to face. He moved towards her and placed warm hands on her shoulders, forcing her to look at him.
‘It’ll be okay. This is a cold case. You couldn’t have done anything two years ago. You weren’t working at Samford then. You were in Kingsville.’
She nodded dumbly. He’d understood what was bothering her – a silent telepathy shared by them both. The kettle switched off with a loud click. He squeezed her shoulders and withdrew. She dropped onto a chair and rested her elbows on the pitted wooden table, bought at a half-price sale. It was a solid table and had withstood the test of time: spoons banged by hungry toddlers, toy cars raced at speed with their tiny wheels digging into the surface, an
d felt pens that had scribbled beyond the edges of the paper they were colouring.
‘You were right about Josh. I was too quick to say no. We’ll get him those trainers as an early birthday present.’
‘Glad you agree. He’ll be over the moon.’
He brought two filled mugs over and banged them down. ‘Bloody cats. At least I’ll get a couple of hours on that translation before the kids get up.’
Natalie gave him a smile and lifted the mug to her lips. The tea was just right.
‘Who’s the FLO on this?’ Murray asked, referring to the family liaison officer who’d be with the officer breaking the news to Ava’s parents.
‘Tanya Granger. I told her we’d go over later to talk to them. Give them a chance for the news to sink in first.’
Natalie brushed to one side the printed articles they’d retrieved from the Internet, and spoke again. ‘DI Howard Franks led the original investigation. He had to retire from the force soon afterwards on account of his wife’s health. She’s sadly passed away since. He’ll be in any minute to take us through it. Has to drop off his daughters at school first.’
On cue, the ex-detective arrived, dressed in jeans, a sweatshirt and a light-coloured bomber jacket.
‘This is very modern,’ he said, glancing around the office and taking in the layout.
‘Behold, the future of policing,’ said Murray, his eyebrows lifting high on his forehead. He made a gesture like a magician about to reveal a trick and smiled winningly.
Howard returned it, deep creases forming around his eyes. ‘Bit different to the old station, that’s for sure. Tiny reception and a blue lamp outside the building.’ He extended a hand. Natalie shook it.
‘Thanks for coming in.’
Howard’s olive eyes studied her face and he held her hand a little longer than necessary. ‘I had to find out if it was true,’ he said in a soft voice.
‘I’m afraid Ava’s been identified.’
Howard rubbed a hand across his forehead. ‘It’s a bastard, eh? You do everything in your power to find them, but it’s all too late.’
Natalie completely understood what he was feeling. They’d both been through similar experiences. They’d given their all and failed. ‘We’d really appreciate anything you can tell us about Ava. We’re all new to this area and not at all familiar with the case.’
He rubbed a pale hand across his chin and held it there before speaking. ‘You all know I was in charge of the Ava Sawyer case. Friday, 24 July 2015, Ava Sawyer was one of twenty children attending a birthday party at Uptown Craft Centre and Farm when she went missing. We interviewed every child present at the party, every member of staff, every parent and every visitor who’d been at the centre that afternoon. That is to say, every visitor who came forward following the television appeal and those we spotted on CCTV. There were six operational CCTV cameras at the time: one at the front entrance, two by the tills at the main exit, two covering the interior of the centre and one overlooking the exterior, noticeably the more expensive plant aisles. There were none in what they called the Play Barn, or by the animal enclosures, the stables or to the side of the building where goods were stored in a locked and secured area. We believed Ava had been intercepted and abducted when she went in search of the toilet, but no witnesses came forward. Nobody saw a young girl being taken outside the centre by force, or even willingly. No one spotted a young girl leaving those premises, either with somebody or alone.’
Natalie watched as Howard’s face screwed up in concentration. This case was still fresh in his mind. With eyes narrowed, he was able to recollect every person he interviewed as well as the craft centre layout, from the barn where the children had been playing games and the route Ava might have taken to the toilet, to the actual store aisles. He’d searched everywhere for the child and the investigation had pierced his heart. Natalie knew how that felt. He would undoubtedly have run through the case a million times and asked himself over and over if he’d handled it correctly or missed something vital.
‘It was surprisingly quiet at the centre that day. We interviewed only thirty-three people. We had teams out for days, hunting for any evidence, but came up with nothing. Ava Sawyer simply vanished.’
He paced the floor for a moment, gathering thoughts, and his words came slowly. ‘We interviewed her parents and for a while, we were concerned. Carl Sawyer was at work thirty miles away at the time of the abduction, and Beatrice Sawyer had met up with one of the other mothers in town, so we had no reason to suspect them of any direct involvement.’
‘Why were you concerned?’ asked Natalie.
‘Beatrice Sawyer was receiving treatment for depression and we were unsure if her health had a bearing on Ava’s disappearance. Testimonies from her husband, mother and friends confirmed she’d been having a difficult time – mood swings, that sort of thing. You’ll find details in the files.’
He nodded to himself and continued, ‘We interviewed the employees at the centre and ran background checks on them all, even those who weren’t there that day. Again, we came across nothing untoward. Janet Wild, who’d been in charge of some of the children, had been spotted near the toilets around the time Ava wandered off, but she did not see the child, and after further questioning, we had no reason to suspect she’d kidnapped Ava or was involved in her disappearance.
‘Ava’s parents made an appeal to the public. Nothing came of it although we followed up every claim that the girl had been spotted. We received calls from all over the country and even as far away as Greece, alleging a girl matching her description had been sighted. After three intensive months, the leads and information dried up. We spoke with every one of Ava’s family, neighbours and friends. We dragged up every bit of information on her parents and their friends, but we couldn’t find her. Then, four months after she was abducted, we received a note claiming Ava had been snatched for her own safety because her mother had become irresponsible and had even threatened the child. With it came a photograph. You’ll find it in the files. It’s a picture of a blonde-haired girl playing on a beach taken from quite a distance but it isn’t clear enough to prove it actually is of Ava, so we put experts onto it. We identified the beach as one in Devon. The team ran face recognition programmes and established it was unlikely to be Ava. We believed it to have come from some crackpot.
‘The Sawyers were subjected to a hate campaign for several weeks, aimed largely at Beatrice. Beatrice believed it was started by one of the other mothers, which was possible. One or two of the parents, notably Paula Kilburn and Caroline Briggs, had mentioned during their interviews that Beatrice had seemed in a hurry to drop off Ava and had driven away without waiting to check the youngster had gone inside, or to even acknowledge the parents.’
‘But it was a drop-off party. My understanding is that parents generally leave their children at that type of party,’ said Natalie.
‘Yes, that’s correct. Beatrice rejected the claims. She’d fully intended accompanying Ava into the centre but the youngster insisted on being let out to join Rainey Kilburn and Audrey Briggs instead. Her mother hadn’t wanted an argument, and seeing the girls were next to the entrance, she’d let her have her own way.’
‘You didn’t think she was involved in her daughter’s disappearance?’
‘We certainly looked at the possibility. We interviewed Beatrice and her mother at length but couldn’t find any evidence to point to them.’
He raised his hands in a submissive gesture. ‘We met dead end after dead end. The search for Ava was scaled back and I was left to handle it with only a small team. I spent months searching for Ava Sawyer and got nowhere. I had to resign from the force for personal reasons and, in light of no new evidence, the case went cold.’ He shook his head again.
‘Would you mind staying here with us while we go through the files?’ Natalie asked.
‘That’s fine. I’ve nothing else pressing for an hour or two.’
With notes piling up on tables and fingers flyin
g over keyboards, they trawled through the relevant information, piecing together the events of 24 July 2015, the day Ava went missing. As they worked efficiently, examining interviews and checking back through case notes, it became certain they’d never uncover the truth about how Ava disappeared and died unless they could track down whoever had buried her. It was a tall order. Nearly two years had passed and memories had dimmed, but there’d been other cases like this – cold cases – where officers had found the perpetrator after a lengthy period of time. Natalie wouldn’t let this go until she had some answers.
‘We uncovered fragments of material at the site. Naomi’s been examining them and we believe they belonged to a yellow dress. We also retrieved a plastic bracelet,’ said Mike Sullivan. His voice sounded distant, broken up by wind.
Natalie looked across at Howard, who was sifting through notes with Lucy. ‘Howard, was Ava wearing a bracelet?’
Howard nodded. ‘An orange-yellow arm bangle. Used to belong to her mother but she borrowed it for the party.’
Natalie turned her attention back to the phone. ‘We think it’s hers. Anything else?’
‘We identified the material protecting her body. She was wrapped in hessian. It’s stopped raining so we’re examining the site in more detail and will see what else we can find. No other bodies in the vicinity at the moment. I’ll keep you up to speed. Just wanted to give you the heads up on what we have so far.’
‘Thanks for that. I’ll talk to you later.’
Natalie ended the call and glanced at her watch. It was already gone 11 a.m. Heads turned in her direction as she spoke. ‘Ava was wrapped in hessian. Can you find out who uses hessian?’
