Stolen Children

by Michael Wood

  ‘Leah?’ Christian thought for a moment. ‘Leah Mercer? Isn’t she married?’

  ‘No. She got the marriage annulled.’

  ‘Even so, you’re married.’

  ‘I know,’ he said, looking down.

  ‘I don’t get it; didn’t she leave Sheffield?’

  ‘Yes. She moved in to her brother’s place in Liverpool. I’ve been seeing her at the weekends.’

  ‘What about Katrina?’

  ‘I’ve said I’ve been working extra shifts.’

  ‘Jesus Christ, Aaron.’ Christian looked on his colleague with scorn. A committed family man, Christian could never contemplate having an affair. He loved his wife and his children far too much.

  ‘Leah’s pregnant,’ Aaron blurted out.

  ‘Oh my God.’

  ‘I’m know. I’m fucking idiot.’

  ‘What are you going to do?’

  ‘I have no idea. I’ve been trying to end it with Leah for a couple of months. I love Katrina so much. I hate the fact that I’m hurting her, and she doesn’t know it.’

  ‘It’s not hurting you that much if you’re still sleeping with Leah.’

  ‘What do I do?’ Aaron asked, looking up with pleading eyes.

  ‘If I knew the answer to that I’d tell you. You’re going to have to bite the bullet and admit what you’ve done. You’re going to hurt a lot of people, but you’re going to have to accept that.’

  ‘Shit.’

  ‘Come on, Matilda’s looking for you. You’re our land search manager and you’re needed in Stannington.’

  ‘I don’t think I’m up to this.’

  ‘You don’t have an option,’ Christian said, his voice stern. ‘You’re at work, you leave your fucked-up life at home. There’s a missing girl out there relying on us to find her. Now, I’ll gladly have a pint with you and try to help you sort out your mess, but right now, we’ve got a job to do.’

  He took a step back and held the door open for Aaron to go through.

  ‘You’re right.’ Aaron said.

  ***

  Stannington was on the edge of the city of Sheffield, on the border with the Peak District National Park and, beyond that, Derbyshire. Up the road from Acorn Drive, where the Armitages lived, was the B6076 Stannington Road which ran straight into open countryside. Farms and fields lay either side and there was a direct route to the Damflask Reservoir.

  Matilda had to cover all the bases. It was possible that Keeley had been kidnapped, and, for whatever reason, the kidnappers hadn’t called back. Maybe Keeley had died in an accident; maybe they’d murdered her. Or, maybe, Linda or Craig Armitage had made the whole story up and they’d killed her. She’d spent the majority of last night tossing all the scenarios around in her mind but couldn’t settle on one. It was little wonder she’d only managed four hours’ sleep. If she was dead, there was a strong possibility her body was around here somewhere, and Matilda would find it at any cost.

  It was eight o’clock when the first minibus containing uniformed officers in all-weather gear turned up. DS Aaron Connolly had a map of the areas to be searched and dispatched officers in teams.

  Matilda climbed out of her car and watched as officers were split up and dispersed. She shivered as a gust of cool wind whipped around her. According to the weather forecast, a storm was predicted for later this week. Hopefully Keeley would be found before the bad weather set in.

  There were many areas in and around Stannington where a small girl could be hiding, lying injured or dead. Stannington Park and patches of green for children to play on were dotted about, all of which had to be searched.

  Vanloads of uniformed and specialised officers with trained dogs descended on the area. They were all given maps and targeted areas to search. It was co-ordinated chaos. Matilda watched as Finn Cotton began his first case as a fully qualified detective constable after several months as a trainee. The wind was nipping at his face, turning his cheeks red. He zipped up his coat and pulled the hood up, covering his strawberry-blond hair. He was in a team with Scott and Rory. They were to search the grounds surrounding Underbank Unitarian Chapel and Townhead Farm, up to Riggs High Road. Finn took a laminated map from Aaron and they headed off, heavy boots resounding on the broken road.

  Beyond Stannington Park, the houses disappeared and the horizon opened up to farms and countryside and scattered copses of trees. All of these needed to be searched. Well House Farm, Oldfield Gate Farm, Parkside and Little Parkside Farm and Goodyfield Farm would all have outbuildings and fields, all of which would need to be searched. Beyond those was the River Rivelin, and a specialised underwater search team were dispatched to the area in the hunt for the missing girl.

  Above Stannington, SY99, the force’s helicopter, was flying low as it looked from the skies for anything they could relay to the officers on the ground.

  Matilda looked up and squinted in the sunshine. She didn’t hear Sian approach.

  ‘We’re like an occupying force,’ she said.

  Matilda turned around and saw what she meant. The police had taken over Stannington. Marked cars and vans were haphazardly parked everywhere. Uniformed officers were knocking on doors, talking to people on the street, handing out leaflets. The campaign to find Keeley Armitage had begun. It was more than forty hours since she had gone missing. Matilda hoped all this effort wouldn’t be in vain.

  ‘Is this the most up-to-date map we’ve got?’ Matilda asked.

  ‘I’m not sure. Why?’

  ‘It’s still showing Dyson Ceramics on here. If you look over the hill, you’ll see the whole site has been levelled and they’re building houses on there. How can we search for someone when the fucking map is wrong?’ she said in frustration, thrusting the map at her DS.

  She turned and took large strides up the steep incline. Sian quickly followed.

  ‘The search teams aren’t stupid. They’ll know these maps aren’t one hundred per cent accurate. They’ll search the areas they’re designated to do whether it’s a factory or now a housing estate.’

  ‘Is there any wonder the Armitages don’t have faith in us when they see the rag-tag bunch we’ve got looking for their daughter?’

  ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘Didn’t you hear Rory? He asked Aaron to give him and Finn the area down near Hill Top as that’s close to Our Cow Molly and they can pop in for a Ferrero Rocher ice-cream cone.’

  Matilda came to a rest at the side of the road and leaned against a brick wall.

  ‘Mat, it’s just gallows humour. He didn’t mean it. Everyone is committed to finding Keeley,’ she said, putting her arm around her. ‘Look, why don’t you take an hour or so off? There’s not much you can do here.’

  ‘No. I need to be doing something. I just …’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I just can’t believe this is happening again,’ she said, looking out at the swarm of officers searching for a missing child. Matilda had a lump of emotion stuck in her throat that was making her feel sick to her stomach. She’d always believed history repeated itself but this was cruel.

  ‘It’s not happening again. It’s completely different. If you treat every missing person case like Carl Meagan’s, then you’re going to drive yourself insane. We’ll find Keeley. I know it,’ Sian said defiantly.

  ‘I wish I shared your optimism,’ Matilda said. She relaxed slightly.

  ‘Now, what’s this you were saying about Ferrero Rocher ice cream? Is that actually a thing?’

  Chapter 20

  It was time for school to begin.

  There was an eerie feeling in the close-knit community. Anxious parents held on tight to their children as they took them to school. On a normal day, kids would be running in front, laughing, screaming, and parents would be gossiping. Today, the atmosphere was sombre. Children walked silently, gripping their mother’s hand. Faces were grim, and everybody tried to avoid eye contact with the heavily wrapped up police officers who made their way along Stannington Road.
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br />   Police cars drove slowly, and a helicopter circled high above. None of this felt real.

  Head teacher Sheila Croft watched the growing crowed of worried parents and made her way to them. She offered a sympathetic smile.

  ‘Good morning.’

  ‘Miss Croft, these gates will be locked, won’t they, once all the children are inside?’ a worried parent asked.

  Sheila tilted her head. ‘The gates are locked every morning at nine o’clock and not opened until school ends at three-thirty. This happens every single day. Your children are perfectly safe here.’

  ‘Have you heard anything about Keeley yet?’ asked another parent.

  ‘No, I haven’t. I have a detective coming round later today. I expect I’ll be updated then.’

  ‘I heard the police were here yesterday and they spoke to Mr Page who’s since done a runner,’ one parent shouted above the sound of a helicopter.

  ‘Is this true?’ Someone called out from the back of the small crowd of parents, which seemed to be growing with every question directed at Sheila Croft.

  She held up her hands to quieten the crowd. ‘Mr Page was questioned because he was the last teacher to teach Keeley before she went missing. As for him doing a runner, that is simply not true,’ she said, hoping her poker face would hold.

  ‘My Phoebe was very upset this morning,’ one woman said as she stroked the golden blonde hair of a grim-faced child in front of her. ‘Will you keep an eye on her?’

  ‘I’m going to be holding a special assembly this morning. You’ve nothing to worry about. Come along Phoebe, let’s get you into school and let Mummy go off to work.’

  Sheila held her hand out to Phoebe, who looked to her mother for permission to take it. She eventually allowed herself to be led away.

  ***

  Mary Croft Primary School was one of three primary schools in the Stannington area, but it was the largest and held over seven hundred pupils. Many parents had elected to keep their children away from school today as gossip and rumour spread around social media like wildfire. There was a kidnapper on the loose. A van had been seen slowly circulating the area seeking vulnerable children walking on their own. There was a known paedophile living near the school, the police knew about it, and were keeping it to themselves. At least one teacher had a criminal record. Every stranger was a suspect. Every unknown car had their registration number written down, and suddenly, everyone was frightened.

  All the children assembled into the hall. They sat quietly on the floor in rows, their legs crossed. Teachers stood at the side of the room. They tried to act normally for the sake of reassuring the pupils, but they were equally fearful. Would the finger of suspicion be pointed at them? The profession of teacher was no longer a rewarding one. They were blamed for a great many things: low test results, showing too much interest in a student, not showing enough interest. Placing a hand on the back of one child if they were upset was suddenly no longer a symbol of comfort, but a sign of a teacher grooming the child. They couldn’t maintain eye contact with a child for too long in case it was seen as intimidation or as if they were being somehow suggestive.

  Sheila Croft walked down the centre of the room. Her sensible shoes clacked loudly on the parquet flooring as she walked with her shoulders back, head high, and ample bosom on display. She was wearing a beige ankle-length skirt and a white shirt buttoned up to her fat neck. She dressed conservatively for a reason: protection against any unwanted or unwarranted attention from parents and teachers alike.

  ‘Good morning everyone. As I’m sure you all know by now, one of our fellow pupils, Keeley Armitage, who is in Miss Beech’s class, has gone missing. Now, on your way here this morning, you will have seen a lot of policemen and policewomen who are doing everything they can to try and find her. I know it looks scary, but it’s not. Police officers are there to look after us and keep us safe. There is nothing for any of you to worry about. However, if any of Keeley’s friends know where she might be, or if they’ve seen anything strange, or if Keeley has mentioned anything strange lately, then you can tell me, or your teacher. Nobody is going to get into trouble. All we want to do is find Keeley.’

  Sheila looked out at the sea of blue sweaters with the yellow logo on the left breast. All the faces were blank as the children, aged from seven to eleven, had their first glimpse of reality; the world wasn’t all about learning the alphabet, times tables, and playing games. Outside of the school gates, beyond their back gardens, there was fear, dread, and horror.

  Chapter 21

  Craig and Linda Armitage had no interest in being famous or on television. They were both perfectly content to live their lives being the best parents they could be and, hopefully, raising three happy and healthy children. When Matilda mentioned a press conference, Linda burst into tears.

  ‘Oh God, do I have to?’ She asked once Ellen had calmed her down.

  ‘It would help.’

  Linda stood up and went over to the mirror above the mantelpiece. ‘I look a mess. I can’t remember the last time I had a haircut. My face is all blotchy. And what do I wear? I can’t go on television; people will talk about me. What will happen if I don’t cry or if I cry too much and can’t talk? Can’t someone else do it?’

  ‘Linda, we need both of you to be there,’ Matilda said firmly. ‘We’ll prepare a statement for you to say. Craig can speak if you don’t want to, but you’ll get more sympathy from the press, and the public, if you both make an appearance.’

  ‘Craig?’

  Craig was sitting on the sofa. Riley was asleep on his lap. He was unshaven, his hair was knotted, and he looked shattered. ‘I’ll speak,’ was all he said.

  ***

  At South Yorkshire Police HQ, the press was assembled and waiting in a packed conference room. Cameras were pointing towards the platform and the gathered journalists were chatting animatedly among themselves.

  Craig and Linda looked petrified. They were sitting on an uncomfortable-looking sofa, holding hands, with grim, pale faces. They gave the impression that at any moment a judge was going to sentence them both to death.

  Ellen Devonport was sitting next to them, talking them both through the press conference, what was expected of them and how it would unfold. They didn’t seem to be paying any attention. Linda was wearing blue jeans and a navy sweater. Her hair was combed and pulled back into a loose ponytail. She wasn’t wearing any make-up and had taken her earrings out. Craig wore black trousers and a white shirt with a grey sweater over the top. He’d shaved and ran his fingers through his hair. They both looked presentable, given the situation.

  ‘Do I look all right?’ Linda asked for what seemed like the hundredth time.

  ‘You look fine,’ Ellen replied, patting her hand.

  Valerie entered the anteroom in full uniform, with Matilda following. She introduced herself to Craig and Linda before shaking their hands and reassuring them that South Yorkshire Police were pulling out all the stops to find their daughter.

  ‘Is there anything you’d like to ask me about the press conference?’ Valerie asked.

  Linda’s bottom lip was wobbling. She breathed in hard and swallowed her emotions. ‘Will I have to speak?’ She asked, her voice breaking.

  ‘The press will direct their questions to you, Linda. They always like to hear how the mother is coping. However, myself or DCI Darke will step in if the questions become too much for you.’

  ‘We’re ready,’ Ellen said.

  Craig stood up first, still grasping his wife’s hand. He had to help her up as all energy seemed to drain from her. The door was opened, and they stepped out.

  The cameras began to flash. Linda gripped Craig’s hand tighter. Ellen led the way and pointed out the seats for them to take. They sat behind the desk and looked ahead at the sea of reporters and cameras.

  Matilda took a seat at the end of the table. Linda was in the middle with Craig and Ellen either side, both were holding one of her hands for support. She was pale and looked
as if she was about to throw up all over the table. In front of Craig was a single sheet of A4 paper with the prepared statement he was to read out for the reporters.

  Once the flashing had stopped and the murmurs had subsided, Matilda took a deep breath and opened the proceedings.

  ‘On Monday 10th September, nine-year-old Keeley Armitage disappeared on her way home from school. Around four o’clock, Mrs Armitage received a phone call from someone who said they’d kidnapped Keeley. We now believe this was a hoax. However, Keeley remains missing. The photograph on the screen behind me shows Keeley wearing the uniform of Mary Croft Primary School in Stannington. She was wearing this, along with a yellow jacket, when she went missing. Officers are currently searching around the Stannington area for Keeley. If anybody out there has seen her or knows of her whereabouts, they’re to call the number on the bottom of the screen immediately.’

  More cameras flashed. Despite Matilda doing the talking, all the cameras seemed to be centred on Linda and her husband.

  ‘Craig Armitage, Keeley’s father, is going to say a few words.’

  Craig remained still and silent for a long moment. He let go of his wife’s hand and picked up the sheet of A4 paper on the table in front of him. His hands were shaking. He cleared his throat.

  ‘Keeley is a bright and happy girl. She’s our middle child and her older sister, Jodie, and younger brother, Riley, miss her terribly, as do her mum and me. She was last seen outside the Co-op on Oldfield Road. At the time she went missing, there were a lot of other schoolchildren and parents about. Somebody must have seen where she went or if anybody took her. If you’ve taken her, for whatever reason, we need her back home. Please, take her to a police station, or phone us. We just want her back home with us.’

  Finished, he put the paper down on the table and reached out for Linda’s hand. She grabbed for it and wrapped her fingers around his.

  ‘DCI Darke and ACC Masterson will now take a few questions from the press. Please state your name and the organisation you’re with before your question.’ The press officer said clearly from the side of the room.