by Michael Wood
‘Walpole, Compton, Pelham,’ she said under her breath.
When Matilda first went off work following her husband’s death and Carl going missing, she had. been assigned a therapist to talk through her issues with. A coping strategy for the panic attacks was to control her breathing by concentrating on a single topic. For Matilda, that was reciting the names of the British Prime Ministers. It worked, too. It had been a good couple of years since she’d had to manage her focus. She’d thought she was back in control, able to face anything life threw at her. She was wrong.
‘Pelham-Holles, Cavendish, Pelham-Holles, Stuart, Grenville. Oh for fuck’s sake,’ she chastised herself as she stormed off down the corridor.
***
One girl missing and one boy possibly found. Such a cruel twist of fate that one family’s suffering might be coming to an end while another’s was just beginning. And in the middle of it all was Matilda Darke.
Matilda thought she had her emotions under control; that she was a strong and independent woman. However, all it took was one piece of bad news to bring her back down to the wreck she was in the early days following James’s death. She was reminded of this fragility as she made her way back to Acorn Drive.
Carl’s return would be headline news across the world, but the flip side of the coin would see the story of Keeley’s disappearance. Two missing children. One found. One lost. Matilda vilified by the press once again. At the time it had happened with Carl Meagan, she had been numb to the onslaught, away from work on an enforced sabbatical. This time … it didn’t bear thinking about.
There were more cars parked on Acorn Drive than last time. As soon as Matilda pulled up, she knew why. Out of the Skoda in front stepped Danny Hanson. Matilda rolled her eyes. She wished that man would fall down a hole somewhere.
‘What are you doing here?’ She barked at him, harsher than she expected.
‘Don’t panic!’ He held up his hands in surrender. ‘I haven’t been knocking and upsetting anyone. What can you tell me?’
‘Nothing.’
‘Oh, come on. A missing girl. A ransom demand. Sound familiar?’
‘You’re a parasite, do you know that?’
‘I’ve been called worse.’
‘Look, Danny, you really need to piss off. The kidnappers could be watching. If they see press outside the house they might panic and not call.’
‘Whereas seeing the famous DCI Darke pull up isn’t conspicuous at all,’ he said flippantly.
Matilda stopped halfway up the pavement, turned and leaned in close to him. She had no idea how old Danny was but his smooth skin, lack of stubble and large puppy eyes made him look as if he was barely out of his teens. She imagined him using his smiling eyes, his little-boy-lost act on interviewees to extract any kind of information for a story. ‘Danny,’ she said calmly. ‘I don’t like you and you don’t like me. Now, I don’t give a shit what you write about me in that printed toilet paper you call a newspaper, but in that house is a family going through hell. Give them some consideration.’
He thought for a moment before nodding. ‘Ok. I’ll back off. But only for tonight. I’ll be back tomorrow.’
‘Jesus!’ Matilda cursed, turning back to the house. How can someone so young and inexperienced ooze such confidence and pugnaciousness? Wanker.
Ellen opened the door before she had time to ring the bell. ‘He’s been out there for about an hour.’
‘Whichever dickless president presses the nuclear button first, the only creatures left roaming the planet will be cockroaches and journalists,’ Matilda said, entering the house.
‘And I’m sure they’ll be very happy together,’ Ellen said with a smile.
In the living room, Craig was sitting on the sofa next to the coffee table where the phone was. He was dressed in a mismatched tracksuit. Linda was curled up next to him. She looked shattered despite having slept for more than fourteen hours. Her hair was knotted and dry. Her skin was blotchy, and her half-open eyes were red.
Matilda gave them both a wan smile and sat on the edge of the armchair opposite. In the background, she could hear the sound of Riley giggling. She guessed Jodie was with him. Sian and Ellen hovered at the side of the room.
The clock was ticking.
The atmosphere in the room was dark and heavy. Apart from the noise from Riley’s bedroom, the silence was palpable. Linda kept wiping her eyes and rubbing her red nose with a soaked tissue. Craig was biting on his bottom lip and drumming his fingers impatiently on the arm of the sofa. He was a seething mass of emotions which threatened to erupt at any moment.
Four o’clock came and went.
‘How long do we leave it?’ Craig asked, breaking the silence like a hammer to a window.
Matilda looked at her watch. It was three minutes past four.
‘What was the exact time the call came through?’ Matilda looked to Sian.
Sian flicked through the pages of her notebook. ‘Seven minutes past four.’
‘They’re not going to wait until bang on seven minutes past four for fuck’s sake,’ Craig said, his face reddening in anger.
‘We don’t know that, Craig,’ Ellen said. ‘We don’t know how their minds are going to work. At the end of the day, they want their money, so they’ll stick to their plan.’
‘But we don’t have that kind of money,’ Linda said, struggling to keep hold of her tears.
‘We need to take this one step at a time,’ Matilda said. ‘When that phone rings, you need to speak calmly and slowly. Ask to speak to Keeley. If they ask if you have the money, tell them yes. Then we’ll go from there.’
‘I don’t know if I can do this,’ Linda said. She was a physical and emotional wreck.
‘You have to,’ Craig said harshly. He put his thick, muscular arm around her and pulled her close to him. She sank into his embrace and smiled when he kissed the top of her head. ‘I’ll be with you. We’ll get through this together. I promise.’
Matilda watched them. Two doting parents who had done nothing wrong forced to endure the nightmare of one of their children being stolen from them. It broke her heart to witness them falling apart. She turned away quickly to look out of the window. She had to stop thinking of them as Philip and Sally Meagan. This was a completely different case. She knew the Meagans. She didn’t know the Armitages. One of them could be responsible for Keeley’s disappearance. They both could.
Linda’s face was blank. Her eyes were red. She looked genuinely anguished. Craig was more difficult to read. He was being the caring husband and father, trying to be strong for them all. Trying. Matilda didn’t like that word. It smacked of someone putting on a performance.
Time ticked by agonisingly slowly. Seven minutes past four came and went. As did ten past. As did half past.
‘They’re not calling, are they?’ Craig asked.
‘It doesn’t look like it,’ Matilda said reluctantly.
‘Oh my God, they’ve killed her,’ Linda cried. ‘They’ve killed her. They’ve killed my baby. Oh Jesus Christ, Craig, they’ve killed her.’ She collapsed into her husband and he held her tight, rocking back and forth on the sofa to try and calm her down.
Linda couldn’t manufacture all those tears.
Matilda gave the nod to Ellen while she and Sian stepped out of the living room.
‘You knew there wasn’t going to be a phone call,’ Sian said quietly.
‘I didn’t know for sure, but I’m not surprised the phone didn’t ring.’
‘Why?’
‘Simply because they don’t have the money. If someone kidnaps a child for ransom it’s from someone who obviously has the means to pay. And these people don’t.’
‘What now?’ Sian asked.
‘I want Sebastian Page found.’
‘Uniform are outside his flat, but he hasn’t come home.’
‘Run his registration number through ANPR, get it picked up and hunt him down,’ Matilda said through gritted teeth. She took a deep breath to calm herself. ‘Tomorrow,
at first light, we start a search. I want a full team out here looking in every park, alley, field and wood. We’re on the outskirts of Sheffield. There’s farms and woodland close by; they all need to be searched. I want dogs out here and a helicopter in the sky. We rip this whole place apart until we find her.’
‘She’s dead, isn’t she?’ Sian asked.
Matilda took a deep breath. ‘It would appear the kidnap was a hoax to cover up what’s really happened. In my opinion that can only mean one thing.’
They heard movement and turned around to see Jodie standing in the doorway to the kitchen. She’d overheard every word.
‘She’s dead?’ she asked. Her voice was fragile. Tears were streaming down her face. ‘You think she’s dead?’
‘Jodie, we’re hoping and praying that Keeley is alive and safe, but we have to think of every eventuality,’ Sian said, running over to the girl and holding her by the shoulders. ‘I know you may think we sound heartless, but we’re just doing our job. It’s not easy. I’m sorry.’
Jodie sniffled. ‘I don’t want …’
‘What? What don’t you want?’ Sian asked.
‘I don’t want this to drag on. Mum won’t survive. If she really is dead, you need to find her body. Mum isn’t strong like Sally Meagan. She won’t be able to cope with not knowing what happened.’
Matilda stood back and watched as Jodie fell apart and Sian tried to placate her. In the living room, Linda was sobbing loudly, and Ellen was making all the right noises to try and make her feel better, but her words were falling on deaf ears.
It was happening all over again. A child had been kidnapped. The ransom demand had gone awry and Matilda was standing in the middle of the fallout. The sensation of her phone vibrating in her jacket pocket made her jump. She pulled it out and saw it was an email from Valerie. The subject line read ‘Carl Meagan’. There was no message, just an attachment. Matilda knew what it was. She opened it and looked at the face of the boy who was calling himself Carl Meagan.
Chapter 18
There was a great deal of work to be done – so much to organise for the search to begin at first light tomorrow morning, and Matilda wanted a press conference as soon as possible so Craig and Linda could get the whole country looking for their daughter. However, for once, she was going to listen to what Valerie kept telling her: delegate. She told Sian to get the search set in motion and sent an email to DI Brady to set up the press conference. Matilda needed some time away from the Armitage family.
She drove at speed through Sheffield and, as usual, was caught up in traffic in Woodseats. By the time she arrived at Pat Campbell’s house in Bradway, dusk was setting.
Pat was a former detective inspector with South Yorkshire Police. She had taken early retirement for health reasons, but that wasn’t the true story. Only her husband, Anton, knew the real reason why she had given up the job she loved so much.
Matilda knocked on the door and waited. It was opened by a short woman with unruly grey hair. She wore black casual trousers and an oversized comfortable woollen sweater. She looked fashionable and elegant without really trying. She smiled.
‘Hello, I didn’t expect you to call.’
‘Not interrupting anything am I?’
‘No. Anton’s playing bowls. He asked me to go and watch but I don’t think I can handle the excitement,’ she said, her reply laced with sarcasm. ‘Come on in. Coffee?’
‘I’d love one.’
‘Come through to the kitchen.’
Pat’s home was neat and tidy. It was decorated in neutral colours and had a minimalist style. Pat wasn’t a fan of ornaments and walls covered with prints and framed photographs. The odd one of the grandchildren was fine, but all they amounted to was extra time dusting.
They took their coffee through to the conservatory which faced a very organised-looking garden.
‘My garden could do with your magical touch,’ Matilda said as she stood by the window.
‘It’s got nothing to do with me. It’s all Anton. I love looking at a nice garden, but I hate doing it. He can spend all day in there pottering. I generally stay in here with my feet up and a magazine,’ she smirked. ‘You look harassed.’
‘I feel it.’
‘How’s the search for the young girl going?’
‘It isn’t. The kidnappers didn’t call back.’
‘Oh.’
‘What does that say to your detective brain?’ Matilda asked as she sat on the wicker padded sofa next to Pat.
‘That she wasn’t kidnapped in the first place.’
‘That’s what I was thinking. Meanwhile, twenty-four hours have gone by and we’re no further on.’
‘Alibi for the parents?’
‘Mother was at home, father was working. They’re clean.’
‘Uncles, cousins, grandparents?’
‘We’re working on it. Look, Pat, the reason I came round was because of another matter.’
‘Go on.’
Matilda filled her in on the latest developments surrounding Carl Meagan. She pulled out her phone and showed her the photograph.
‘Oh,’ Pat said, slightly deflated. ‘I’m not sure. I wasn’t expecting him to look like that.’
‘Neither was I.’
The photo emailed from the British Embassy showed a young boy with a mess of dirty blond hair. He was pale and clean, but his eyes were drawn and sad. They were blue, like Carl’s, but had a dullness about them. His lips were thin and chapped and his cheek bones were prominent whereas Carl had a chubbier face.
‘I suppose it could still be him,’ Pat said, not taking her eyes from the screen. ‘People can change a great deal in, what is it, just under four years. Don’t forget, for a child, four years is a long time. He’ll have had a growth spurt. He’s been living in a different climate, different foods, different weather. He’s bound to look drawn; he’s been away from his parents for four years.’
‘I know.’
‘What are you thinking?’
‘I don’t know. I want this lad to be Carl so much.’
‘He doesn’t look like the composite you had done of how he’d look now, does he?’
‘The ageing program can only take in so many factors. They generally show you what he’d look like now if he’d been living a healthy lifestyle.’
‘Well, he looks like he has been. There are no bruises. He doesn’t look like he’s been poorly treated. He looks older than eleven, but, being kidnapped is bound to age a child.’
‘Do you think we should show this to Sally and Philip?’
‘Yes,’ she replied firmly. ‘We promised Sally we’d be upfront with her every step of the way. What’s happening next?’
‘Police Nationale are sorting out a DNA sample from the boy. They’re going to send it to us and we’ll see if it’s a match for what we have on file for Carl.’
‘And what about the people who kidnapped him?’
‘I’ve no idea what’s happening there at the moment.’
‘You do know that Sally’s going to want to fly straight out to Marseille.’
‘I know. We need her to be rational about this. Yes, it’s a step in the right direction, but we need to keep an open mind.’
‘Would you like me to come with you?’
Matilda visibly relaxed. Although the atmosphere had thawed between her and Sally, things were still strained when they were in the same room together. Pat was the perfect buffer. ‘If you don’t mind.’
‘Of course not. When?’
‘Some time tomorrow? I need to get home, have something to eat and a long shower. I’m knackered.’ Her voice broke as the relentlessness of the day’s dramas were taking their toll on her on.
‘You can have something to eat here if you like? I’ve had my tea but you can have what I’ve saved for Anton.’
Matilda smiled. ‘I don’t think he’d like that.’
‘Probably not, but it’ll teach him for dropping taking me out for a bite to eat for playing bowls.�
��
‘No thanks. I’m not going to be a pawn in your weird little squabble. Besides, Adele said she’ll pop over with a Chinese.’
‘Ok. I’ll see you out.’
***
There was something infectious about being with Pat that always made Matilda leave her house with a smile on her face. Since retiring, Pat had lightened considerably. She was approachable, good humoured and a pleasure to spend time with. They hadn’t worked together much when Pat was still a serving DI, but her reputation was of having been a ball-breaker. She stood no nonsense and she wasn’t shy about sharing her feelings, frustrations, and disappointments towards members of her team. The retired version was a complete contrast.
Matilda waved goodbye from behind the wheel of her Range Rover and headed for home. Hopefully, Adele had let herself in and was already spooning out the chow mein.
***
As Matilda drove up the makeshift driveway, she saw a car parked outside her house and the lights on inside. For a brief moment, it felt like she didn’t live alone. She even smiled. Then she recognised the car as belonging to Adele, and the smile faded. She’d have company for a couple of hours and then she’d be alone again. Matilda used to enjoy being on her own with a book and memories of her husband, but it was no longer enough.
‘Hi honey, I’m home,’ Matilda called cheerily from the hallway.
Adele came out of the kitchen, hands on hips and a stern look on her face. ‘Where the bloody hell have you been? I’ve been slaving over a hot stove for hours. A phone call would have been nice. You’ve been with that floozy again, haven’t you?’
Matilda smiled. ‘I’ll tell Sian you called her a floozy.’
‘Don’t you dare. She may be small, but she’s frightening when her temper’s up.’
Adele and Matilda were the same age and had known each other for more than twenty years. When Adele first moved to Sheffield she had been in a mess and Matilda had helped her pick up the pieces of her shattered life. When the tables were turned after James died, Adele had reciprocated. They were more than friends. They were closer than sisters, which irked Matilda’s sister, Harriet.
Adele was a good-looking woman. She wore her dark brown hair at shoulder length, tucked behind her ears. She had warm brown eyes, soft skin and full red lips. She always dressed elegantly, and her attractiveness was boosted by her confidence.
