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Be My Baby: A Heart Stopping British Crime Thriller (DI Benjamin Kidd Crime Thrillers Book 4)

Page 3

by GS Rhodes


  Campbell sat up a little straighter in his chair, looking a little uncomfortable all of a sudden. “I…uh…I stayed with Powell, sir,” he said. “I didn’t want to just leave him after everything that happened. I felt like...I don’t know…I felt a little bit responsible. And he doesn’t have any family here, sir, they’re all back on the south coast. So I stayed until…well… until I fell asleep actually, and the nurses told me to go home.”

  Kidd smiled. He didn’t really think that Campbell and Powell were all that close. But, he supposed, it could have happened to any one of them. There was probably something of that in it, as well as just wanting to make sure that one of his teammates was doing alright. He hadn’t expected that from Campbell of all people, though.

  “And how’s he doing?”

  Campbell nodded.

  “He’s a little bit banged up, sir,” Owen said. “You saw him after it happened, it was pretty awful. But he’s a fighter, he’ll come through it. He’ll be back on the team before you know it, causing trouble, you know what he’s like.”

  It hadn’t occurred to Kidd yet that Simon Powell wouldn’t be with them. Last night’s events already seemed like something that had happened long ago. Even though they didn’t have their full complement in the office yet, it felt a little emptier without Simon’s presence, or him dropping something, or falling over himself.

  “You’re exactly right,” Kidd said, trying to stay upbeat. “He’ll be back before we know it.”

  The door to the Incident Room opened, DS Zoe Sanchez walking in, her jacket slung over her shoulder, a takeaway coffee cup in her hand. She stopped dead in her tracks, almost dropping the coffee, her eyes widening as she took in Kidd and Campbell. Kidd couldn’t keep the smirk off his face.

  “Bloody hell,” she said on a breath, looking between the two of them. “I am literally never not the first one here, and today I get beaten by both of you? Is Janya here yet?”

  “Not yet,” Kidd said. DC Janya Ravel, the only one left to make them a full team—minus Powell—had not yet arrived.

  She breathed a mock sigh of relief. “Phew, works for me.” Zoe walked over to her desk, hanging her jacket over the back of her chair, before firing up her computer. Kidd followed her.

  “It wasn’t just me who didn’t get any sleep last night, was it?” she asked, stifling a yawn as she practically fell back into her chair. “I’m going to be running on coffee today. Going to be caffeinated up to the eyeballs.”

  “Not just you, Campbell as well,” Kidd said, looking over to where Owen was staring at his computer. Whatever he was looking at, Kidd would put money on it not actually going into his brain. He looked totally spaced out. “We’re all going to be on fumes today.”

  She turned to Kidd, the smile on her face quickly dropping when she caught sight of him. Was it that obvious that there was something else on his mind?

  “You alright?” she asked, raising an eyebrow at him. “You look…I don’t know what you look like. You just don’t look good.”

  “Thanks?” he said, shaking his head. “I didn’t get much sleep last night either.”

  Zoe eyed him carefully, confusion crossing her features. “Right. Are you about to tell me why, or do I need to pry it out of you?” She took a sip of her drink, not taking her eyes off him for a second.

  “Yes,” Kidd said, lowering his voice and perching on the edge of a nearby desk. If anyone was going to know what to do in this situation, it would be Zoe. “Craig showed up last night.”

  She nearly choked. “Fuck.”

  “My thoughts exactly.”

  “What did…how…I don’t…” Zoe could hardly form words, pulling her gaze away from Kidd as she tried to process what he’d just told her. Kidd was glad he wasn’t the only one who was in a bit of a state about it. Zoe knew more about his history with Craig, and his history of searching for him, than anybody else. She composed herself. “And how are you feeling about that?”

  “Not good,” Kidd replied.

  “When?”

  “Last night,” he replied. “I’ve been…I’ve been getting phone calls for the past few days. Since I got back from Essex, really. I was ignoring them, thought it was a prank call or someone with the wrong number or something.”

  “Right?”

  “And it turned out to be Craig the whole time,” Kidd continued. “Last night he just started talking. He got to town yesterday. He’s…he’s back, I guess, at least for now.”

  “Okay,” Zoe said. “And where is he right now?”

  “At my house.”

  “Fucking hell, Ben.”

  “What?”

  “He’s at your house?” Zoe hissed. “Has he told you where he’s been for the past two years, what kind of trouble he’s in?” Kidd shook his head. “So you’re possibly harbouring someone dangerous, or someone who’s in danger, in your house, right now. You’re a detective, Ben, you have to know that’s not a good idea.”

  “Of course I know it isn’t a good idea, I just…” Kidd trailed off. He didn’t know. He didn’t know what the hell he was playing at. He knew it was a mistake, that he should have questioned Craig more fiercely, tried to find out what the bloody hell had happened to him but…he hadn’t been able to bring himself to do it. He was just happy to see him alive.

  “So he’s been alive all this time,” Zoe said. “What has he been—?”

  She was interrupted by the door to the Incident Room opening, both of them immediately turning their gaze to where DCI Patrick Weaver now stood, a case file in his hand, a grave expression on his face. Whatever was inside that file was big, Kidd could see it in the way that he was holding it.

  Weaver locked eyes with Kidd. Thoughts of Craig would have to wait. It was time to get to work.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  DCI Patrick Weaver was the kind of man who filled a room in more ways than one. If it wasn’t his presence, it was his booming Scottish accent, and if it wasn’t either of those, his sheer size was enough to draw your attention. He didn’t seem to have a single suit that could fit over his broad shoulders or a shirt that could contain his barrel-like chest. He looked more rugby player than detective chief inspector, and he struck fear into practically everyone who worked for him.

  “Where’s Janya?” he asked. Apparently there wasn’t time for a cursory, “Good morning.”

  “She’s—” Campbell piped up just as DC Ravel walked through the door behind Weaver. She looked up at him and offered him a smile, he seemed to soften a little.

  “Good morning, boss,” she said, shrugging her coat off and hanging it on a hook by the door. “To what do we owe the pleasure?”

  DC Ravel wasn’t afraid of anyone, least of all DCI Weaver. While he managed to strike fear into the hearts of many an officer in this building, Janya had clearly taken a leaf out of Zoe’s book and decided to treat him as she would anybody else. If Simon were here, he’d already be red-faced and cowering, especially if he’d walked in after the gaffer.

  Weaver raised the case file once again, a blue folder with a few pieces of paper sticking out of it. “Obviously, there is still paperwork to be done with from last night’s festivities,” he said. “But something has come up and it’s rather pressing.”

  Weaver headed over to the evidence board, still covered with the remnants of the previous case. They’d managed to fall into a fairly easy rhythm in the office. Simon was the one who took care of the board, adding things, taking them away, making sure it was as up to date as possible for the case they were working on. Had he been there this morning, he probably would have taken all of that down by now and got started on some of the paperwork. Alas.

  Weaver didn’t seem to know what to do with himself.

  He turned his attention back to the room, to Campbell behind his desk, Janya behind hers, Kidd and Zoe making their way forward so they were gathered in a semi-circle waiting for him to tell them what horrors awaited them inside the file.

  “We’ve had a kidnapping on the
borough,” Weaver said, leaning back on a nearby table and opening the file. “Maggie Walters, four years old, was out with her mother, Rachel Walters, by Kingston Riverside yesterday afternoon. They were with a family friend, the kids were playing and went a little bit too far away from their parents. Next thing they knew, Maggie had vanished.”

  Kidd perked up.

  “Vanished?” Kidd repeated, remembering the news story from this morning. “How far could she have gotten?”

  “You know the riverside?”

  Kidd knew it fairly well. He’d walked down it a few times, but never all that far. It was across the river from restaurants and the town centre, away from the hustle and bustle. On a warm day, it was a nice place to sit and watch the world go by, even if it did get filled up with families and fishermen and everything in between.

  “I know it,” Kidd said.

  “The kids were off playing hide-and-seek, apparently,” Weaver said. “They went to hide, then Maggie never came to find them. They got called back by their moms and Maggie never came.” Weaver gave the information a moment to sink in. “The people that were at the riverside went looking with the mother and the friend, but nothing came of it. They couldn’t find her.” He took a breath. “It was reported in the late afternoon and officers have been down there scouring for footprints, for anything that might have gotten caught on bushes, on trees, but without knowing exactly how far the kids went, they could have been anywhere between Kingston and Hampton for all we know.”

  It was a good point. If someone had picked up Maggie along that pathway, you could get all the way to Hampton and beyond if you wanted to. There wouldn’t be any CCTV cameras down there, and given what a nice day it had been yesterday, it would have been crowded down by the river. It could literally have been anybody.

  “We’re looking at a few different scenarios here,” Weaver said. “It could be a kidnapping. There are gates and houses along the river that could be an easy way on and off Barge Walk, or someone could have come down and taken her.”

  “You think it’s opportunistic?” Kidd asked. “Random?”

  “It often is,” Weaver said gravely. “If it’s planned, then we have a whole different situation to deal with.”

  “True.”

  “The other option is that she took a wrong step and tumbled into the river,” Weaver said. “It’s fast-moving, there are all sorts of hazards beneath the water, obviously plenty of plants and bushes at the riverside, all it would have taken was for her to get caught in them, maybe bash her head, and…” Weaver trailed off. He didn’t need to give any more detail than that.

  “But if she had fallen in the river, wouldn’t there have been more noise?” Kidd suggested. “If not a splash, maybe a scream? And if she was being dragged down the river, surely someone would have seen her?”

  Weaver nodded, having already considered it. “Which is why we’re leaning towards kidnapping.” He cleared his throat. “We already have a statement from the mother, Rachel, but if you want to ask her anymore questions I can arrange that.”

  “That would be brilliant, thank you, sir,” Kidd said.

  “The friend hasn’t given a statement,” Weaver said, all but raising his eyebrow. “She had to get her kids home, wanted to shield them from the trauma of the day, so it might be worth paying her a visit,” he added. “We’ve had no word from a kidnapper or anything like that. But we know how these things can go. The media is already on it in a big way. We don’t have time to waste.”

  Weaver handed the case file to Kidd, who took it gladly and opened it up to see a photograph of Maggie with her mother, and presumably her father, attached to the first document. She was adorable. Bright eyes, blonde hair, the photograph taken of her when she was in the middle of a laugh. It broke Kidd’s heart to think of what her parents must be going through right now.

  “Is this the dad?” Kidd asked.

  “Daniel Walters,” Weaver replied. “Was at work at the time of the incident. Rachel was desperately trying to reach him, apparently called him a hundred or so times.”

  Kidd turned his attention back to the picture. That certainly didn’t sit right with him, though if he was at work then maybe he wasn’t the kind of person to take a personal call in the middle of the day. But if your other half was trying to call you as frantically as all that, wouldn’t you pick up? Kidd was certainly interested in getting to know Daniel Walters a little bit better.

  “One more thing,” Weaver said, taking a heavy breath. He’d saved this for last for a reason. “I had an interesting message arrive in my inbox about a week ago, about an old friend of yours, DI Kidd.”

  Kidd froze. Surely not. He didn’t even know what to do with Craig and the boss was already on it.

  “I passed it off to a couple of PCs to go and check in, see how things were going, keep tabs on him, you know?”

  Now Kidd really was lost. He wasn’t talking about Craig, that much was for sure. But Kidd couldn’t get a read on who he meant. His face obviously told that story already because Weaver was quickly retracing his steps in his head.

  “I got a message that came through the front desk from a concerned member of the public,” Weaver said. “Peter West was spotted on Richmond Green.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  “Peter West?” Kidd repeated. It didn’t seem possible. “It’s not been ten years, has it?”

  Weaver scoffed. “Of course it hasn’t,” he said. “He got let out on good behaviour.”

  It was around five years ago that the case had landed on DCI Weaver’s desk, who had handed it off to the fairly new, DI Kidd. Peter West had been convicted of kidnapping four children in and around Kingston, he’d hidden them in the basement of his house and tortured them. They’d got him on the kidnapping and on GBH, the ten-year sentence the maximum he could have gotten. It had been a short chase, he’d made one too many mistakes and they had managed to trace him through a combination of forensics and age-old CCTV. It hadn’t been a lot to go on, but they had taken the punt and ended up bringing him to justice.

  It felt insulting that he’d been let out early. Those kids were probably still carrying the scars, both physically and emotionally of being stolen away from their families, locked in a basement, and tortured. It would no doubt haunt them for their entire lives.

  “Good behaviour?” Kidd repeated. “That’s fucking rich. They should have let the guy rot.”

  “I agree,” Weaver replied, letting out a heavy sigh. “The PCs went to check on him, he’s staying with his mum because he couldn’t face going back to that house, because of all the bad memories, apparently.”

  “Bad memories he made,” Kidd said.

  “He’s fine,” Weaver said, a tight-lipped smile across his face. “The house will likely sell for mid-six figures and he’ll live a very happy life in Richmond with his mother. But now this has happened and…well…it was the first thing to pop into my head. I read through the case, double-checked the messages I’d had back from the PCs and got you an address. It’s in the file, if you want to go and have a quiet word with him.”

  Kidd opened the file and could see the address attached to a Post-it on the first page. He shook his head. Surely, he wouldn’t be so stupid. Surely, there was no way he would get out of prison one week and already be back up to his old tricks again. But it certainly wasn’t beyond the realm of possibility.

  It seems too easy, Kidd thought. Way too easy.

  “Tread carefully with him,” Weaver warned. “He can be tricky, though you know that better than most.”

  Kidd nodded. “We’ll go and see him after we’ve interviewed Rachel. Be good to get him out of the way nice and early, get an alibi, if he has one.”

  “Sounds good. Anything else you need from me before you get started?” Weaver asked, already halfway out the door.

  “Just one thing boss,” Kidd said. “Any word on getting someone to fill in for Simon? We’re a man down here.”

  “How is he?” Weaver asked.
/>   “He’s doing alright, sir,” Campbell chimed in. “I was with him last night. He looks a bit banged up but…getting attacked by a knife-wielding maniac will do that to you.”

  Weaver nodded. “So I’ve heard. Give him my best when you see him next.”

  “Shall do, boss.”

  “Guv?” Kidd said. “Can we get another DC over here or—?”

  Weaver sucked a breath in through his teeth. “’Fraid not, Kidd. You know what things are like at the moment, we’re stretched as it is. Can’t spare another man I’m afraid. But you’ll be fine. And if you need anything—”

  “Thanks, boss,” Kidd said. “We know where to find you.”

  Weaver wished them well and left the Incident Room, a strange sort of silence falling over the team. Kidd looked at the Evidence Board once again, at the pictures of Caroline and Robin Paige, of the men from the last case who’d tragically lost their lives. They’d have to take them down and move on to the next. No time to waste, like the boss had said. They needed to get moving.

  ◆◆◆

  Kidd put the team to task, not wanting to waste too many precious minutes. The sooner they got started, the sooner they could get to the bottom of it, and hopefully, manage to track down where Maggie Walters had gotten to. If Peter West was responsible, they would be sure to catch him pretty fast. If nothing else, they should be able to strike him off the list nice and early once they’d had a chat with him.

  He helped Campbell take down the previous case’s evidence board while Janya sifted through all that they had so far, which wasn’t an awful lot. They turned it around pretty quickly, Weaver popping back in with an address for Rachel Walters so they could go and interview her.

  Kidd looked at the board. It was strange seeing Peter West’s old mugshot on a board again. He likely looked a heck of a lot different now. Five years in prison would do that to a guy. He’d no longer be the same quiet, dark-haired gentleman who they’d caught so many years ago. It wasn’t likely, anyhow.

 

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