He ran a hand through his close cropped, greying hair. It might suit Ruth, but there was no way he could do the gym thing. “I’ll make my own arrangements if it’s all the same.”
She got up from her desk and made for the coffee machine. “Want one?”
Calladine shook his head. Whatever regime Ruth followed it was working. She was a lot slimmer than she’d once been. Her hair was longer, too. A warm shade of chestnut and resting on her shoulders. He didn’t take much notice as a rule, but lately Ruth was looking quite the stunner.
“What’re you doing in so early anyway?” she asked him, returning to her desk with a steaming mug.
“I couldn’t sleep. My house was broken into last night.”
Ruth’s eyebrows shot up. “You’re joking! They’ve got some nerve. It’s coming to something when the little sods break into a copper’s house.”
“And I know his mother. Stupid kid’s a neighbour.” He logged off the system and sat back in his chair.
“Did you tackle him?”
“Damn right I did.”
Ruth shook her head at him. “Risky that, Tom. He could have left you for dead.”
Ignoring the comment, he asked, “Have you heard of an individual called Street?”
Ruth frowned. “I don’t think so. But I’ll keep an ear out. Why?”
“Just something the kid said. Did you know that Leesdon has a bunch of vigilantes wandering the streets?”
“I did see something on a poster in the local shop. I don’t think it’s anything serious, Tom. A few locals had a meeting about vandalism, theft and the like. Decided to post anything they discovered in a Facebook group. It’s about keeping an eye on things, warning each other to be mindful, that’s all.”
Calladine would reserve judgement until he knew more. He took the bundle of paperwork handed to him by a uniformed officer and flicked through the pages, his eyes scanning the detail. “We’ve inherited the missing Sophie Alder case off Brad. Long started the investigation but given the heart attack, Birch has passed it to us. Forensics have made a start. We need to speak to the parents, find out for ourselves what happened and then we’ll go and see what Julian’s turned up.”
“Thorpe mentioned it yesterday morning before Long took ill. Child abduction.” Ruth shivered. “It’s been a while since we had one of those. The parents must be worried sick. I don’t know the father, but I’ve met Annie, the little girl’s mother. She used to bring Sophie to the same nursery as my Harry.” Ruth paused, remembering. “She’s a pretty little girl, big blue eyes and blonde hair.”
“Have you seen their house?” Calladine asked.
“I’ve driven past, it’s up near your mother, Eve’s. A huge pile of stone and glass on the hill above Hopecross. I remember Annie boasting that Rick Alder had designed it himself. Must have cost a fortune.”
“Got it to spend, hasn’t he? Alder is very much the local lad made good. Nice bloke, d’you reckon?”
“I suppose he must be. Annie’s okay, too. But underneath that delicate exterior she’s a tough cookie. Brought up on the Hobfield, the pair of them. I doubt she’d stand any nonsense.”
DC Simon Rockliffe, known as Rocco, and DC Alice Bolshaw arrived at the office together, deep in conversation about last night’s televised football match. The two of them had been in a relationship for a few weeks, but were now just good friends.
“We’ve got the Alder case,” Calladine announced to the team. “Get the background checks done on the family,” he said, turning to Rocco. “See if you can work out who would want to take the child.”
Rocco nodded.
“Want me to help him, sir?” Alice asked.
He shook his head. “No thanks, Alice. I want you to look at social media and then get out into the town and ask questions. See what you can find out about a lad who goes by the name of ‘Street.’ Anything and everything. Report back later.”
Chapter 3
Ruth stared enviously at the hillside mansion in front of her. “Who’d have thought it of that pair. There was a time when they couldn’t raise a couple of quid between them.”
“House this size is a waste of money,” Calladine responded, regarding the Alder family home. “The heating bill alone must be astronomical.”
“Trust you, skinflint! Even so, not bad given how young he is and where he came from.”
Calladine shrugged. “A little excessive though, given there is only the three of them. What’s wrong with the simple life? That’s what I say.”
“He’s made a fortune and likes to spend it. Nothing wrong with that, good for the local economy. The bill for the wedding alone must have run into thousands.”
“D’you know what I’m thinking?” Calladine asked, staring at the property in front of him.
Ruth looked at him. “I can guess. The family live up here in semi-isolation, have plenty of money and are well known. Alder makes no secret of his wealth. In some respects, he rubs folk’s faces in it. The I came from one of the worst estates in the area and look at me now syndrome.”
“You’re thinking along the same lines as me then? That Long’s theory is correct. Someone thinks Alder needs teaching a lesson, reminding of his roots. Someone takes the child and demands money for her safe return.”
“I hope you’re right, Tom, but there are no guarantees.”
“A body hasn’t been found yet,” Calladine reminded her.
Ruth suddenly felt cold. “What a dreadful thought. Poor little girl, wherever she is. We must tread carefully. If they’ve had a demand for money already, they won’t want to talk to us.”
“Does Alder have any enemies?”
“Can’t say I know much about him,” Ruth replied. “But he’s in business. It’ll be as cut-throat as any other, so I suppose he must have some enemies. But someone evil enough to take his child, well, that’s something else.”
“That is our priority. We need to know Alder’s background in detail. The good stuff and the dirt. C’mon then, let’s make a start.”
Calladine left the car parked by the tall gates at the entrance and the two detectives walked up the wide shingle drive.
Calladine glanced around. “Odd atmosphere, don’t you think?”
“That’s a weird thing to say, especially coming from you,” Ruth smiled. “But you’re right. You’re a local lad, don’t you realise where this is?”
“Should I?”
“Alder bought the land, but before he could build, he had to knock down the ruins of the existing building. This is the site of the old workhouse, remember that?”
Calladine threw her look. “How bloody old d’you think I am?”
She laughed. “You might remember it. The place stood here until the late seventies, but thankfully it’s been empty since the turn of the century. It had a dreadful history. Cruelty to kids, folk going missing — the things they got away with beggars belief.”
“Why the interest?”
“An ancestor of mine was put in there. Nineteen, no husband, and pregnant. Fortunately, she got out and skipped off to America. But no one knows for sure what happened to the kid. Records show he was both born and died here. There is a family tale that she smothered him.”
“Hadn’t got you down as a family history buff.”
“I’ve just started to do the research, Tom. It was speaking to Greco when he was with us that did it. He’s really into this stuff.”
“He’s a weirdo, don’t forget. I wouldn’t be copying him.” DCI Stephen Greco had helped them out with a recent case, but paid a fanatical attention to detail. It did not make him popular.
“You just don’t like him. He’s okay, gets a bit obsessive, but he’s been a great help with the info I needed to get going with this.”
“Don’t encourage him, that’s my advice,” Calladine warned.
“I thought you two had made your peace?”
“We have, but things stand a better chance of staying peaceful if we give each other a wide berth.”<
br />
Ruth grinned. “He’s a bloody good detective. The pair of you have a lot in common.”
This came as a surprise. “You think so! Nevertheless, he’s not someone I’d want to have around every working day, put it that way.”
They’d reached the front door and Ruth pressed the bell. A young woman answered. She was about twenty, with short dark hair. She was dressed in a cropped top and tight jeans, with frayed holes in the knees.
“They don’t want to see anyone,” she announced and made to close the door.
“They’ll see us. We’re police.” Calladine showed her his warrant card.
“What about the one who came yesterday?”
“He’s been taken ill. We’ve been assigned the case in his absence. Is the family in?”
“Annie is. In a state, as usual,” she said. “There’s always something with her. Nothing’s ever simple.”
Given what had happened, Calladine was surprised at her attitude. Was this girl totally without feeling?
“And you are?” Ruth asked.
“Frankie. Francesca Halliwell. Annie’s sister.”
“Were you here yesterday when Sophie went missing?” she asked.
“No. It was Joanne who raised the alarm. Annie rang me and made me come over. She might be the big sister, but where the kid’s concerned, that one’s never learned to cope. Always in a panic about something.”
Ruth glanced at Calladine. She wanted to say something, blast the girl for making the kidnap of a child sound like nothing important. She bit her tongue.
Frankie Halliwell stood aside and gestured down the hallway. A pair of double doors led to a palatial sitting room where a willowy blonde with a tear-stained face sat on a plush velvet sofa. Another young woman was pacing the floor.
“Please tell me you’ve found her,” Annie Alder sobbed, fear evident in her blue eyes. “This nightmare has to stop or I’ll go out of my mind. My Sophie has never been away from home before. She’ll be terrified.”
“DI Calladine and DS Bayliss,” he introduced them both. “We’re doing everything we can, Mrs Alder,” Calladine assured her. “We’re here today to go over what happened. No detail is too small. We need to know everything.”
“I got that about ten minutes ago. I was in the throes of ringing the station when you arrived.” Annie nodded at a printed sheet on the coffee table in front of her. “There’s not much, but it’s confirmation that someone has taken my Sophie, and that she’s okay for the time being.”
“Was it pushed through the door?” Calladine asked, picking it up.
“No, email. I printed it out. The laptop is there — I suppose you’ll want that.”
Calladine nodded. “Do you have another one, in case the kidnapper makes further contact by email?”
Annie nodded. “There’s a workstation in the office. I can log on to that.”
Calladine read the note. She’s safe now. The words were accompanied by a picture of a child playing with toys on a rug.
“This is your daughter?”
Annie nodded.
“Do you recognise where this photo was taken?”
“It’s a red rug, what is there to recognise?” she said sharply.
“Are any of the toys in the photo Sophie’s?”
“No. The kidnapper must have provided them. It had been wet. The kids didn’t take anything of their own outside.”
The wording of the note was odd. Not the usual stuff of ransom demands. No threat was made. And why did someone think that Sophie needed a place of safety?
“No family liaison here?” Calladine asked, glancing at Ruth.
“I sent them away,” Annie replied angrily. I didn’t want strangers hanging around, reporting back on our every word, our every move. Joanne is staying with me.” She nodded at the woman with her. “She’s a friend and looks after Sophie part-time when I’m working.”
“Don’t forget me,” Frankie reminded her. “You ring, I jump. Isn’t that how it works?”
“Family liaison will keep you updated, that’s all,” Calladine said. “They are here to help, not to spy.” He sat down on a chair opposite her. “There’s no news yet, I’m afraid,” he told her gently. “Would you describe to us exactly what happened yesterday.”
Annie swore under her breath. “How many times do I have to go over this? Don’t you lot talk to each other?”
“Yes, we do, but my colleague has since become ill and is not able to tell me what he knows. Apart from which, I prefer to hear it from you.”
Annie sighed. “Sophie was playing outside with another of Joanne’s little charges, a lad called Jack. Joanne went to bring them in, but couldn’t see Sophie anywhere. According to Jack, she’d been talking to a man by the back gate.”
“Did this man know Sophie’s name? Did your daughter recognise him?” Ruth asked.
“Jack said so,” Joanne confirmed. “He told me that he called to her by her name.”
“You didn’t watch them, check on them periodically?” asked Ruth.
Joanne looked uncomfortable. “Annie was showing me the wedding photos,” she said. “We were chatting. Time flew past.”
“Besides, the garden is secure,” Annie added. “We have high fencing, a thick privet hedge. And the wooden gate at the back is always locked.”
“Well, someone opened that gate,” Calladine reminded her. “The little lad said a man was standing there?” Joanne nodded. “Then he must have either broken the lock or had a key.”
“The forensic people that came yesterday said it was broken,” Joanne said.
“How often do you use the gate?” Calladine directed the question at Annie.
“Rarely, to be honest. We’re so far out that when we leave this place I usually drive. The back gate leads out onto the side of the hill and then up into the woods.”
“When exactly did you last see your daughter, Mrs Alder?” Ruth asked.
Annie started to weep. “I don’t know. They were playing. I didn’t take much notice of the time.”
“They went outside at about three. Remember?” Joanne looked at Annie for confirmation. “It had stopped raining so we decided they could have a runabout in the garden.”
“Do I have to stay?” Frankie Halliwell broke in. She was leaning against the wall, a bored expression on her face. “I’m supposed to be meeting some mates later.”
“For God’s sake, Frankie. Have some thought for your sister,” Joanne snapped at her.
“Keep your hair on! The brat’s safe — you can see that from the photo. It’ll be someone’s idea of a joke.”
The outburst shocked Ruth in particular. Someone had taken Annie’s child — it was every parent’s nightmare.
“This is no joke,” Ruth assured her, coolly. “It is a very serious matter.”
Frankie shrugged. “Email says she’s safe, or can’t you read? I can’t help, anyway. I know nowt.”
“For goodness sake stop whining, Frankie. Do what you want. I’m past caring,” Annie said.
“Don’t expect me back tonight either. I’ve got better things to do than listen to you going on.” Frankie stormed out.
“Do you have cameras outside?” Calladine asked.
“Only at the front of the house,” Annie answered him. “We never got round to sorting out the back garden.”
“Do you mind if I take a look?”
Annie Alder nodded.
Calladine left the women alone.
* * *
“Do you remember me, Annie?” Ruth asked gently once Calladine was out of the way. She sat facing Annie on the sofa. “I know you from the nursery in Leesdon. My little boy, Harry, goes there. He and Sophie were great pals at one time.”
Annie gave a half-hearted smile. “It’s Ruth, isn’t it? I recognised you at once. Sorry I didn’t say anything. I’m a mess, and Frankie doesn’t help. I shouldn’t have rung her. This is a nightmare. I can’t believe what’s happening.” She picked up the printed sheet and shook it angrily.
“What is this about? What does he want from me?”
“If you take the email at face value — then nothing. But it may be followed quite soon with a demand for money,” Ruth told her. “Has there been any further contact?”
The room fell silent. Annie shook her head. “No. No one has contacted me. But I can’t speak for Rick.”
“The email isn’t signed. Do you have any idea who might want to do this? Anyone given you a hard time recently?”
“Not that I can think of. But where Rick is concerned, who can say? He gets off on rubbing folk up the wrong way.” She let out a sob. “I thought we had it all. That he loved us. How wrong could I have been? These days he prefers the company of his new friend, Giles Pennington, to us. Pennington only has to snap his fingers and Rick jumps.”
“Has anyone been critical of how Sophie was being brought up? Perhaps a relative or a friend?”
“What are you saying? That I’m a crap mother, is that it?”
Ruth tapped the printed sheet of paper. “No, not at all Annie. I see the words on this email, ‘She’s safe now,’ and I have to ask. They suggest to me that perhaps someone thinks that has not always been the case.”
Annie was sobbing again. This was getting them nowhere. “Where is your husband?” Ruth asked.
That particular question opened the floodgates. “Not here, is the short answer. Our daughter has been kidnapped and Rick has a meeting to go to,” she wailed. “He doesn’t give a damn, and that’s the truth.”
Ruth handed her a tissue from a box on the coffee table. “I’m sure that can’t be true. DI Calladine told me that he’s already phoned the station this morning. He has a business to run. People rely on him.”
Annie glowered at Ruth. “There are times when I hate him!”
The venom was real and it shocked Ruth. Like most local folk, she knew the story. Annie and Rick had been together since their early teens. Their recent wedding had been long anticipated and had enjoyed a centre spread in the local press.
“Come on, Annie, you don’t mean that.” Joanne took hold of her friend’s hand. “You remember what it was like being brought up on the Hobfield? The grinding poverty, the ‘making do.’ We both said we’d get out if it was the last thing we did.” Joanne grinned. “Well, you did it with bells on, kid. You’re wed to the richest man in town. Live in the biggest house in the area. And made every woman for miles around jealous as hell.”
Dead Guilty Page 2
