Killer Plan

by Leigh Russell

  Betty pointed to a boy with a pale pinched face and light hair.

  ‘There he is, that’s him.’ Betty pointed to the boy then consulted her list. ‘Brian Stanbury.’

  ‘Brian Stanbury,’ Geraldine repeated softly. ‘I wonder what happened to him.’

  The old woman shook her head and bent to retrieve her glasses.

  ‘I don’t know what happened to him. None of the children ever came back to visit, not once they left us.’

  Geraldine thanked the old lady before she too left her. She had a name. Before long she was staring at an address too.

  65

  Sitting on the bottom step, he cried until he felt as though someone had stamped on his head. His eyes throbbed when he closed them. When he opened them, the darkness scared him. He was frightened to move in case he knocked into something and hurt himself. He could bleed to death on the dirty floor, and no one would know. Brian had promised to come back soon, but he had been gone for ages. Ed didn’t trust him. He said he had locked Ed up in the cellar to keep him safe, but he didn’t feel very safe, alone in the dark. All he wanted to do was to go home to his mother and father and brother. Only that could never happen, because his father was dead. Nothing made sense any more. He didn’t know why the people who had killed his father wanted to kill him too. Brian said it was because they were wicked, but that didn’t explain anything.

  Brian had assured him his mother and brother were safe. Ed hoped that was true, but he wasn’t sure whether to believe it. Brian had promised he would be back soon, but Ed had no idea where he was, or how long he had been gone. If Brian had lied about returning, he might have lied about Ed’s mother and brother too. In the beam of the torch, he made his way across the cellar to the bed Brian had shown him. It was just a hard wooden trestle bench pushed up against the wall, covered with a sleeping bag. He turned off the torch to conserve the battery and placed it under the bench where it would be easy to find. Then he lay down on the hard bunk, on top of the sleeping bag. He had to keep very still. The bench was so narrow he was afraid he might fall off if he moved. Lying perfectly rigid, he began to cry again.

  He wept silently, in case the bad people returned. If he sobbed out loud they might hear him. After a while his nose felt bunged up and his head began to ache from crying, but he couldn’t stop. He must have dozed off in the end because a noise woke him. He sat up, vaguely aware that he had heard a loud bang. It might have been in his dream. All at once he froze. There was no doubt this time. He could hear noises, the clumping of footsteps above his head and then a woman’s voice, talking. He almost cried out, thinking it might be his mother. Just in time he remembered Brian’s warning. The bad people might have returned. If they found him, they would kill him. Hearing more footsteps, he felt on the floor for the torch. Stealthily he crept across the floor, careful not to make a sound. Reaching the narrow staircase, he made his way up very slowly, holding the torch in one hand to light his way. If he fell he would make a din, and everyone would know he was there.

  All was silent when at last he reached the top of the steps. Putting his head against the rough wooden door, he listened. There were muffled voices, but he couldn’t distinguish any words. Gradually he was able to recognise Brian’s low tones. The woman didn’t sound like his mother, but it was difficult to hear her clearly. She must have been standing further away from the door under the stairs than Brian.

  ‘I don’t know why she would mention my name,’ he heard Brian say. There was a muffled response and then Brian said, ‘Yes, that’s true. We did. Anyhow, it’s all very sad.’

  The woman moved within earshot. ‘If you hear anything, let us know,’ she said. ‘We need to find this boy.’

  There was another muffled exchange. He couldn’t catch what the woman was saying but he distinctly heard Brian say, ‘I would if I could, but he’s not here. And I’m sorry to hear about Caroline.’

  That clinched it. The woman wasn’t Ed’s mother. She must be another spy, out looking for him. He stood very still, remembering what Brian had told him about not being heard. There were more footsteps. The front door creaked open. Before it closed, he heard the woman’s voice again. She was facing the hall now, so he could hear her quite clearly.

  ‘Here’s my card. Call the police station straight away if she contacts you again.’

  The front door slammed shut. Too late Ed realised the woman was a police officer. She must have come to the house looking for him. If he had shouted, she would have rescued him. As disappointment seized him, he heard someone moving just the other side of the door. Before he could clamber back down the stairs, the door slid open and a bright light shone in.

  ‘There you are,’ Brian said softly. ‘What are you doing on the stairs?’

  ‘I heard voices,’ Ed replied truthfully.

  ‘I told you to stay still and quiet.’

  ‘I never made a sound. Can I come out now?’

  ‘No. That was another spy. They’ll be back.’

  Ed didn’t want to play any more. ‘I want to go home,’ he said.

  For answer, Brian closed the door. Ed was in darkness again. He pushed against the door but it stayed firmly shut. Miserably he switched on his torch. The narrow beam of light waved around the stairs and down into the cellar. It was like a dungeon. He was trapped. The police had come looking for him and Brian had sent them away. They wouldn’t return. He began to cry again. But even as he shuffled wretchedly back to his bunk, snivelling, a plan was forming in his mind. He wasn’t going to sit there and rot. Brian would have to return at some point with more food and water. When he did, Ed would be ready. Slowly he shone the torch all around the cellar, searching. After a while he shuffled over to the bunk bed where he sat down, weighing the torch in his hand.

  66

  After telling Matthew to stay put and not answer the door to anyone, Caroline ran down the drive and fumbled to unlock the car. Flinging herself behind the wheel, she turned the key in the ignition with a shaking hand. The engine purred into action straight away. She eased her foot off the brake and hurriedly manoeuvred the car away from the kerb. The other car was nearly out of sight by the time she set off in pursuit. There were no other cars driving along the side street where she lived. Having almost caught up with the inspector, she eased her foot off the accelerator to keep a discreet distance behind the other vehicle. She couldn’t afford to be spotted. Several times Caroline had driven to the police station complex in Hendon and waited outside the car park, hoping to see the other woman emerge. Sooner or later, she hoped the inspector would drive to Brian’s house. When that happened, Caroline wanted to be right on her tail, but so far she hadn’t seen her leaving the police station. This time the inspector had come to her. It was too good a chance to miss.

  At the end of the road, the inspector turned left onto Ballards Lane. Caroline hesitated to follow her too closely, and missed a gap in the traffic. Fretting about losing her target, she waited impatiently for another chance to turn onto the main road. The inspector wasn’t driving especially fast. Even so, it was difficult to stay on her tail. Caroline couldn’t stay directly behind her without risking discovery. What with anxiety about losing sight of the inspector, and fear of being seen, she was so stressed she had to make a conscious effort to drive sensibly. The knuckles on her hands looked almost white, she was clutching the steering wheel so tightly. She was feeling sick, but she had no choice other than to continue the terrifying journey. Convinced Brian had kidnapped Ed, she was desperate. Her only chance of discovering where he lived was to follow the inspector. Waiting at home doing nothing was driving her insane. Her plan to follow the inspector around might fail, but she couldn’t think what else she could do.

  It was quite likely the inspector was headed to another destination entirely, but if she wasn’t going to Brian’s house now, then she might do so later. Caroline determined to stay on her tail until the inspector led her to the house where she was convinced Ed was being held captive. The police didn
’t believe her when she told them Ed had been kidnapped. She had no alternative but to take matters into her own hands. She would never normally have had the guts to chase a police car through the streets of London. At every second she was afraid the inspector would slam on her brakes and demand to know why she was being followed. But more terrifying than the prospect of being challenged was her fear of losing sight of the inspector.

  The car she was following drew to a halt outside a house just a few streets away from where Caroline lived. Edging into a parking bay a few spaces away, Caroline sat hunched over her steering wheel, shaking. Her relief at having reached the end of the journey was so strong she wanted to cry. The inspector climbed out of her car and crossed the road. Tense with hope and fear, Caroline watched her walk up to a front door. She paused on the doorstep, apparently talking on her phone. While the inspector was hanging back, Ed might be locked up, hungry or in pain. He was bound to be frightened. Under her breath, Caroline cursed the inspector for being so slow. At last she reached out and rang the bell. Caroline held her breath.

  For a long moment, no one came to the door. Tormented by anxiety, Caroline sat, waiting helplessly. The chances were that she had followed the inspector to a house that had nothing to do with Brian. She could be visiting a friend, or a family member, or following up a lead in another case entirely. Caroline’s hands dropped from the steering wheel. She crossed her fingers. It was equally possible that Ed was in there, out of sight, concealed inside that house, behind those brick walls. She stared keenly at each of the windows in turn, willing Ed’s face to appear. Darkness gaped back at her, giving nothing away.

  She seemed to have been waiting for hours when the front door finally opened. Whoever was in the house remained obscure, shielded by the caller. Caroline shifted in her seat, trying to see past the inspector. As though to accommodate her, the detective moved to one side to reveal a man with a head of straggly ginger hair. From that distance Caroline couldn’t make out the man’s face, but she could see enough to know that the inspector was talking to Brian. They stood on the doorstep for a few minutes. Finally the police inspector followed Brian inside the house and the door closed behind them.

  ‘Find my son,’ Caroline whispered. ‘Come back out with my son. Don’t you dare come out without him.’

  At last the inspector emerged, tall, dark and elegant. She was alone. Numb with disappointment, Caroline watched her stride across the road to her car, and drive off down the road. Ed wasn’t with her, but Caroline had discovered where Brian lived. No longer worried about being spotted, she sat up and watched the other car vanish into the night. The inspector had brought her to Brian’s house. All at once, she felt a wild excitement.

  67

  Brian Stanbury lived six blocks away from Caroline’s road. The fact that he lived so close to Caroline meant it was quite likely they had bumped into one another recently. That might have given her the idea to use his name to throw the police off the scent if she herself was guilty of some wrongdoing. Geraldine was convinced she was hiding something, she just couldn’t tell what it was. And at the centre of Caroline’s secrecy, a small boy had disappeared.

  After Nick’s death, they had all been warned to be especially careful. There was a possibility that someone was targeting police officers. Under normal circumstances, such a warning would have been unnecessary because Geraldine was usually deliberately conscious of her surroundings. Distracted by the investigation, she hadn’t been as alert as usual. Walking down the path, she noticed a car parked opposite. Someone was seated at the wheel, and was watching her. With a shiver, she hurried to her car. Nick had believed someone was following him shortly before he died. Now it seemed to be happening to her. When she looked up again, the figure had vanished.

  She drove away fast. There was only one other car travelling along the side road where Caroline lived. For a few moments it appeared to be following her, but when she turned onto the main road she lost the other car in traffic before she could see its registration number. She wasn’t sure whether she ought to report the incident, but decided to wait and see if she noticed anything else suspicious. So far she had no grounds for her paranoia, apart from a general awareness of the need for increased vigilance.

  The man in the doorway raised his eyebrows inquisitively without speaking. His face relaxed into a tentative smile when she identified herself.

  ‘How can I help you?’ he asked in soft, cultured tones.

  He was skinny, and his fair complexion was pock-marked from past acne. With pale watery eyes, and light ginger hair, he wasn’t good-looking, but his gentle voice inspired confidence. At least he hadn’t reacted aggressively to her presence on his doorstep. Increasingly, members of the public were hostile when the police came calling. Older officers grumbled about the lack of respect they were shown. In some areas the situation had become so volatile members of the force were reluctant to make house calls on their own. The change in the public perception of the police was an issue that exercised the higher powers within the force but, as in all the services, it was the officers on the ground who bore the brunt of the dwindling deference they were accorded on the streets.

  Brian appeared to entertain a healthy old-fashioned respect for her position.

  ‘I’d like to ask you a few questions. May I come in?’

  He hesitated for only a second before nodding his head. Walking quickly, he led her to a small kitchen at the back of the house. When they were both seated, Geraldine brought up Caroline’s name. Initially he looked puzzled, then he nodded in recognition.

  ‘Oh yes, Caroline,’ he said. ‘We were at school together, but it was all a long time ago. I haven’t seen her in years – that is, I hadn’t – and then we bumped into each other in the park the other day. I recognised her straight away!’ He smiled fleetingly. ‘But what’s this about? I really hardly knew her. We just happened to be in the same class at school. Longer ago than I care to remember – it must be more than twenty years ago. It was only chance that we happened to meet again, after so long. Why? Has something happened to her? I’m sorry, I’d like to help, of course, but I can’t see how I can. We were only children. I don’t know anything about what she’s up to these days, or what happened to her after we left junior school.’ He paused, thinking. ‘She had some children with her the other day, so she might have changed her name since I knew her, got married I mean. She was Caroline... no, I’m sorry, I can’t remember her surname at school. It was a long time ago.’

  ‘Caroline gave me your name.’

  ‘Did she?’ He looked perplexed, but not at all worried. ‘Why?’

  He smiled and put his head slightly on one side, waiting for her to respond. He was intrigued. Geraldine hesitated. Apart from a pipe creaking and gurgling somewhere above their heads, the house was silent. It was hard to believe a healthy ten-year-old boy was being held prisoner there against his will. She pressed on, unsure of her ground.

  ‘Caroline has lost one of her sons.’

  ‘Oh dear. How did he die?’

  Geraldine explained that Ed had disappeared.

  ‘You mean he’s gone missing? That’s awful,’ he stammered, visibly shocked. ‘Poor Caroline. What a terrible thing to happen. I thought her children were quite young – too young to run away from home. But it seems kids grow up so fast these days. The influence of television, perhaps? But how can I help?’

  ‘We have reason to believe the boy’s been kidnapped.’

  ‘Kidnapped? Are you sure? He couldn’t have fallen and hurt himself, or lost his memory? Because who would do such a thing? I mean to say, I didn’t get the impression she had much money, but then you can’t always tell, can you? I suppose you’ve contacted all the hospitals, and searched everywhere? If she lives round here, well, there’s a park just a few streets away…’

  Geraldine nodded. A search party had been deployed and another team was busy going door to door, asking if anyone had seen the missing boy.

  ‘We’re doing w
hat we can.’

  ‘Yes, I’m sure you are. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be telling you how to do your job. It’s just so shocking when anything like this happens to a child. I mean, it’s terrible when something bad happens to adults too, but somehow it seems worse to hear about crimes against children. But are you sure he hasn’t had an accident? What makes you suspect he was kidnapped? That’s not common around here, is it? I’ve lived here for over ten years and I’ve not heard of any children being kidnapped before.’

  Geraldine shrugged. The only evidence that Ed had been kidnapped had come from Caroline, and she was hardly a reliable witness. Leaving aside the fact that she appeared to be distraught at her son’s disappearance, there was a chance she had levelled the accusation against Brian to divert police attention away from herself. If her son had discovered she had arranged her husband’s murder, bumping into a loner like Brian might have seemed like a godsend. Living alone, gentle, and amenable, he could be an ideal scapegoat. Having met Brian, Geraldine couldn’t help thinking it even more likely that Caroline was responsible for Ed’s disappearance. In seeking to silence her son, Caroline was hiding something. And it was pretty clear what that was.

  ‘I’m sorry to have troubled you,’ she said, getting to her feet.

  She wondered whether she should ask for permission to search the house.

  ‘If there’s anything I can do…’

  ‘I’d like to have a quick look around, while I’m here.’

  For the first time, he looked worried. ‘It’s all a bit of a mess,’ he said.

  He led her from the kitchen through the hall to a small living room and dining room. Both were empty.

  ‘I’ve seen places that are far untidier than this,’ she assured him, and he smiled, relieved.

  Upstairs was similarly empty. He pulled down a ladder so she could stick her head into the loft and shine her torch around. There was nothing up there except a few cardboard boxes.