The Lost

by Mari Hannah

  Stone was nodding. ‘Let’s walk.’

  They set off in a westerly direction, passing a second entrance to Ponteland Community High School and Ponteland County Middle School, their school badges proudly displayed alongside their names. A white van pulled up on the grass verge before a set of traffic lights. The sight of it made Frankie shudder. Her heart began to thud as she fought to keep calm. She turned her head to the side so that Stone wouldn’t notice her reaction.

  Breathe, breathe.

  Recovering quickly was a skill Frankie had developed over time, learned behaviour that came with a little help from the force psychologist. She forced herself to focus. Mind on the job, she couldn’t help thinking that whoever had taken Daniel had first completed a recce of the street. Traffic lights were a potential hazard to an abductor. A clean getaway was essential. If the lights were against them; STOP and they might get caught, GO and they would certainly draw attention to themselves.

  No brainer.

  The offender they were after was taking no chances.

  Realising that Stone had uttered a total of two words since leaving the car, Frankie made polite conversation. ‘I didn’t know that was a specialist language centre, did you?’ She flicked her eyes to white lettering on a brick building to their left.

  ‘No.’ Uninterested, Stone kept walking.

  Frankie practically had to run to catch up with him. ‘Three words. I suppose that’s progress.’

  He glanced at her. ‘Excuse me?’

  ‘I said you’re up to three, boss. If we’re really lucky we’ll squeeze four before we make it to the roundabout.’

  Stone ignored her sarcasm, his eyes inspecting the ground beneath their feet. On the side of the footpath, there was very little grass. The surface was churned up in places, deeply rutted with tyre tracks, evidence that parents had used the verge to park and collect their kids from school.

  ‘This is where Justine usually parks,’ he said. ‘She told me this morning.’

  They stopped walking.

  On their side of the road was a thick hedge. On the other, a row of bungalows. On the west side of the school buildings were playing fields: rugby posts clearly visible over the top of the hedge, football pitches further away. They continued down the road, Stone making the odd observation.

  Frankie assumed he was in a huff, hadn’t yet forgiven her for her tirade in the car.

  A toddler on a bike rode beside his jogging mother, his little legs pumping away, his face beaming as he tried to keep up. The occupants of a panda car waved to Stone and Oliver as the vehicle passed by, part of the house-to-house team on their way to knock on more doors. At the roundabout, the detectives turned left, ignoring the sign for Darras Hall, a smart housing estate, for want of a better phrase, catering for those with salaries she could only dream of.

  Seconds later they arrived at a six-bar metal gate.

  Frankie checked her phone. ‘This is the gateway where McCall saw the car.’ She turned her phone to show David. It wasn’t a proper pull-in, just a bit of tarmac leading to the playing fields beyond, the gate providing a barrier between them and the road.

  Stone glanced at the image on display, comparing it with what he could see with the naked eye. There was space for only one car, unlike the proper lay-by up ahead that could take three or four, or even five vehicles at a push, a thought that was fast dawning on Frankie.

  ‘It was planned, David. This is not some random stop. Do you agree?’

  ‘Yeah, but unless he or she parked right in front of the metal gate, the car wouldn’t be seen through the hedge.’

  ‘I guess it did then. Partially obscured, McCall said.’

  Frankie’s eyes flew over the hedge in question. Across the playing fields, in the distance, she could see the airport control tower. She turned her back on the open countryside, commenting that the gateway wasn’t overlooked. The houses across the road were hidden behind an equally verdant hedge. A glimpse from an upstairs window was the best they could possibly hope for.

  As far as exit routes were concerned, the possibilities were many. That didn’t bode well for Daniel: straight up and a car would reach the A69 within minutes for an escape route west; down the A696, past the airport, a stone’s throw to the A1 north and south; the Throckley Fell road or through Ponteland and out the other side. If Frankie was depressed when she arrived, she was more so now. Daniel could have been taken anywhere.

  18

  The ringing tone seemed to go on and on. Alex imagined her sister in a yoga position, as she’d been for much of the week, blaspheming at the intrusion, only this time it was the phone and not the Spanish goats she’d be complaining about. In the car on the way from the airport last night, Alex had ignored her text and two calls this morning. She couldn’t hold off indefinitely.

  ‘Kathryn Tailford Irwin.’ She sounded out of breath.

  Alex held back.

  Yesterday they had shared a glass of wine on the terrace at Casa Pegueña, clinking glasses and toasting the future, putting the past behind them, neither having had much to celebrate going into 2016. They had made a pact not to dwell on the past, to concentrate instead on all that was good in their lives. Right now, Alex couldn’t think of a single thing that fit the bill. There was, it had to be said, a lot they would both rather forget.

  ‘Speak now or the phone goes down,’ Kat said. ‘Whoever you are, you should know that I’m not into long-distance heavy breathing.’

  ‘It’s me, Kat.’

  ‘About time! I treat you to sun and sangria and this is how you repay me? Alex, hang on. I’m just in from a run and left the door open in the rush to answer the phone.’ The receiver went down on a hard surface. There was a short pause, then she was back. ‘It’s bloody glorious out there. The tan is glowing. Hope it’s the same at your end of the country. How’s everyone?’ A pause. ‘Alex? Are you there?’

  Alex was there, poised to break the news. Kat was the last person she wanted to talk to but it had to be done. ‘It’s Daniel,’ she said.

  There was a tremor in Kat’s voice. ‘What’s happened?’

  Alex didn’t answer.

  ‘Is he OK?’

  ‘He’s missing . . .’

  ‘Since when?’

  Alex waited a couple of beats for the information to sink in. ‘A detective waylaid me at the airport when I stepped off the plane. Someone picked Daniel up from training last night before Justine could get there. Tim was frantic. He spoke to Daniel’s coach and rang everyone he could think of: Dan’s mates, the parents of kids he plays footy with, even the hospitals. There were no admissions and no one’s seen him since he walked off the pitch around seven o’clock.’

  ‘Oh fuck! I’ll be on the next train—’

  ‘No, Kat. Stay put. You can’t—’

  ‘The hell I can’t! I’m coming up. No arguments.’

  ‘I don’t want you here.’

  There: it was out.

  Alex hadn’t meant to reject her quite so vociferously, even though she’d anticipated her sister’s offer to drop everything and head north to take charge, but what she’d said in reply was the plain, honest truth. Kat’s presence would add stress to an impossible situation, not take it away. Alex had her hands full as it was. She didn’t want Kat’s help, much less her sympathy.

  She’d gone quiet.

  As a kid, she could sulk for England.

  Alex apologised immediately for the hurtful way her words had come out. ‘I know you mean well, but you’ll be in the way if you come. The police are all over us.’

  ‘You won’t even know I’m there, I promise.’

  ‘No.’ Alex heard frenetic tapping on a keyboard.

  Kat’s voice hit her ear again. ‘The three-thirty train gets in at quarter to seven.’

  Alex raised her eyes to a ceiling hand-painted with the Orion�
��s Belt constellation. She and Daniel shared a love of astronomy. He’d lie on his back for hours looking at it. She rubbed at her temples, trying to think of a good excuse to put her sister off.

  ‘No need to pick me up,’ Kat said. ‘I’ll get a cab. I should be there by half past seven, latest.’

  ‘It’s not happening, didn’t you hear me? I meant what I said—’

  ‘I know what you said but I want to help. Alex, don’t shut me out.’ She was almost begging. ‘We’ve spent far too long apart in the last decade.’

  ‘And whose fault was that? You hardly know Daniel.’

  A long, painful silence.

  ‘Don’t do this,’ Kat said. ‘Please . . . let me help.’

  ‘You’ve done enough already—’

  ‘The holiday was nothing.’ Kat paused for breath. ‘Oh, I get it. Tim’s against me landing on you, is that it? He’s not my favourite person and I’m not his, but we’re family. We need to stick together now. We can put aside our differences. I’ll hold my tongue around him, I swear. I’ll go out and look for Daniel myself if necessary. All that’s important is getting him home.’

  ‘It’s not Tim, it’s me.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I want to be alone. Surely you of all people understand that.’ Kat would remember all the times when Alex reached out to her and was knocked back. Rejection was painful. It was high time she understood that. Alex stalled: ‘I can’t cope with you right now – or anyone. The place was crawling with police last night. They were here until the early hours. They searched the house with sniffer dogs and questioned Justine this morning – Tim too.’

  ‘Of course they did! They’ll interview everyone who’s seen Daniel in the past few days. You can’t read anything into that. They adore him.’

  ‘I know . . . but something’s not right, Kat.’ Alex glanced at the bedroom door, dropping her voice a touch. ‘DI Stone, the guy in charge of the investigation is very supportive, but his DS is wary of Tim, I can feel it and . . . to say Tim’s not himself would be a gross understatement.’

  ‘When has he ever been?’ Kat knew she’d said the wrong thing and took it back. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that.’

  ‘Yes, you did. And that’s why it wouldn’t be a good idea for you to stay with us.’

  ‘Then I’ll book into a hotel.’

  ‘Drop it, will you!’ Alex was almost yelling.

  ‘Look, you said yourself, Tim’s frantic. It’s hardly surprising, is it? The police will soon realise he wouldn’t harm Dan. The idea is ridiculous.’

  ‘Yeah, but he’s acting weird.’ Alex dropped her voice a touch. ‘It’s not the drugs this time, Kat. It’s . . . I don’t know what it is, but I get the feeling he’s hiding something. Before the police left, I overheard the female detective threatening to arrest him if he didn’t tell the truth.’

  ‘About what?’

  ‘I don’t know. They asked me to leave the room while they questioned him.’

  ‘They actually said that?’

  ‘Or words to that effect. Stone is the SIO. He’s switched on, I trust him. I had no choice but to comply with his request. Clearly he had his reasons for not wanting me there. Make what you will of that.’

  ‘Is Tim in custody?’

  ‘No, he’s at home—’

  ‘There you go then. You must have misheard. Or picked up the wrong end of the stick.’

  ‘I don’t think so.’

  The door to Daniel’s bedroom opened and Tim walked in. He looked exhausted and Alex could see he’d been drinking – or worse. ‘Here you are,’ he said. ‘I’ve been looking all over for you.’

  ‘Just give me a minute,’ Alex said.

  He didn’t move. ‘Who’s on the phone?’

  ‘Kat. She has a right to know what’s going on.’

  He rolled his eyes and turned to go. As he retreated, Alex told Kat everything: all about the mix-up over who was doing what; the fact that Tim had waited two hours to file a report; about the DM that Justine had received from him; and his confession that he’d deleted the message from his phone before walking into the police station.

  Kat was astonished. ‘Why on earth would he do that?’

  ‘He panicked, or so he said.’

  ‘Doesn’t sound like him.’

  ‘He begged me to believe him.’

  ‘And do you?’

  ‘Yes, no . . . I’m not sure.’

  ‘Unless he intended deleting the message from Justine’s phone too, it makes no sense. I mean, why would he lie about sending her a message in the first place?’

  Alex cut her dead. ‘That’s what is so peculiar. He admits deleting it, but is adamant that it didn’t come from him. Kat, maybe you were right about the two of them. I know I wrote it off when we were in Majorca, but now I’m not so sure . . .’ Tim was back. ‘Call you later, I’ve got to go.’

  19

  Alex Parker’s first husband, Rob Scott, only lived nine miles away in a decent street in Heaton, a two-bedroom mid-terraced house with no garden to speak of and a small rear yard. The house needed a lick of paint. The front door bore signs of a recent break-in, the wood freshly splintered where a jemmy had been used to prise it open. The windows hadn’t been cleaned for years but flickering light from a TV screen was visible from the street.

  Stone rang the bell and got no answer. He rang again and heard yelling from within but still no one came to answer the door. The sound of breaking glass was ominous, putting both detectives on alert.

  ‘Where’s the Kevlar when you need it?’ Frankie said.

  Stone wasn’t laughing. ‘We better get in there before they kill each other.’

  Frankie pushed the bell harder, keeping her thumb on it. No joy. ‘I’m not sure if it actually works, David. I hope that’s not Daniel he’s yelling at.’

  ‘Really? I was thinking the opposite.’

  She knew what he meant.

  Despite Alex Parker’s insistence to the contrary, they were half-hoping they would find Daniel safe and well inside, none the worse for a night spent with the man Alex had dubbed ‘a pathetic excuse for mankind’. Being taken from his family by a belligerent biological father with a score to settle – whether the boy had gone willingly or not – was markedly preferable to being abducted by a stranger.

  Frankie’s guts were churning.

  Stone looked on as she used her fist to hammer on the door three times. The din from within ceased. At the bay window, an indistinct figure looked out from behind greying net curtains, then moved away. Moments later, the door was yanked open by a man mountain, rough-looking, with a shaved head and dark eyes. He’d been drinking and was wearing a T-shirt with the words We’re All Screwed written across it.

  ‘If you’re selling Jesus, I’m not fucking interested.’ He began to retreat.

  ‘Mr Scott?’ Frankie stuck her foot over the threshold, the sole of her shoe upturned against the weather strip, preventing closure. On the way there, they’d decided that Frankie should take the lead. Female officers were often used to interview combative men, lowering the temperature, lessening the possibility of an aggressive face-off between two alpha males. Even drunks would think twice about squaring up to a female cop, especially one half their size.

  ‘Who’s asking?’ Scott opened the door a little wider.

  ‘We are.’ Frankie held up ID.

  Despite the bad shape Rob Scott was undoubtedly in – unwashed, unshaven and reeking of beer – Frankie could see how attractive he might once have been to Alex Parker: powerful physique, chiselled features, strong jawline. Now on his uppers, with bleary eyes hardly able to focus, this giant of a man had let himself go.

  ‘I’m DS Oliver. This is my colleague, DI Stone. Can we come in?’

  ‘No. Piss off.’

  She tried again. ‘We’d like to talk to
you about Daniel.’

  ‘Daniel who?’

  ‘Your son, Mr Scott.’

  ‘You’re ’aving a laugh, darling—’

  ‘No, I’m deadly serious.’

  Scott made a show of checking the street. ‘What is this, Candid-fucking-Camera? What’s the little shit done? Run away from his cow of a mother, has he? I’m impressed. Didn’t think the wimp had it in him.’

  Frankie pointed inside. ‘Can we talk?’

  ‘I’m busy.’

  ‘Too busy for your son?’ She got no reaction. ‘That’s unfortunate. Perhaps you’d prefer to accompany us to the station. Say the word and that can be arranged. We’ll have a squad car here in minutes. Your call . . .’ She waited. The stand-off didn’t last. ‘Thought not . . . Now let us in.’

  ‘What do you want?’

  ‘To search your property.’

  ‘Certainly, if you have a warrant.’

  ‘We can get one.’

  ‘When you do, let me know—’

  ‘C’mon, Rob. Where’s your community spirit? Don’t let the lack of paperwork stop you from inviting us in. I can smell dope from out here. But lucky for you I’m not interested in your recreational habits. No need to panic. You can even get wasted while DI Stone and I have a quick look around.’

  ‘Makes you think I’ve got him?’

  ‘You were unhappy with the court’s decision and made some threats after the custody hearing. It’s a matter of record.’

  ‘I’ll tell you what it’s a matter of. That cow blocked access to my son!’

  ‘That must be very difficult for you. If Daniel is here, you’re in violation of a court order.’

  ‘I told you, he’s not.’