The Toy Taker

by Delaney, Luke

  She walked deeper into the room and gently took the doll from him, holding it in one hand as she smoothed its long hair with her other. ‘I didn’t want to buy it,’ she admitted. ‘Stupid thing cost a fortune, but Bailey insisted and I can be such a soft touch – you know how it is with kids.’

  ‘Absolutely,’ Sean confided, trying to remember the last time he’d been in a toyshop with his daughters.

  ‘Anyway, she made a liar out of me. She plays with it all the time.’ She shook her head disapprovingly and smiled despite the quiet tears that had begun to trickle from the corners of her eyes. ‘Look at all these toys,’ she said. ‘Didn’t have toys like this when we were kids. Didn’t have any money – not like now. Me and Nathan back then – both our families always pot-less, trying to survive on our council estate in Holloway, trying to find a way to escape.’

  ‘Looks like you did.’

  ‘Yeah, we did. All the way from Holloway to Highgate – you know we were brought up less than two miles from here, but it feels more like two hundred miles. Different world.’

  ‘That’s London,’ Sean reminded her, thinking of his own home’s proximity to some of the toughest council estates in south-east London.

  ‘I suppose,’ she agreed. ‘But I tell you now, I’d give it all up in a second to have my Bailey back. They can take it all, just give me my daughter back.’

  ‘I don’t believe this is about any sort of ransom,’ Sean explained.

  ‘That’s not what I meant,’ she told him. ‘I know she wasn’t taken for money. I mean that if we don’t get her back then this is all for nothing. Everything we’ve achieved will be for nothing. Our lives will never be the same again. They’ll never be good again, not without Bailey.’

  ‘Don’t give up hope,’ Sean encouraged.

  ‘Haven’t you?’ she caught him cold. ‘Do you really think she’s all right?’

  ‘I think there’s a good chance of it, but I need to find her quickly, and to do that I need you to do everything I ask and do it as quickly as you can.’

  ‘I’ll do anything,’ she told him, almost pleading. ‘Just promise me you’ll bring her back. You’ll bring her home. I don’t think I could go on if something’s happened to her, if she’s—’

  ‘I promise,’ Sean assured her, the weight of the oath heavy on his shoulders and conscience. ‘I need to go now. I’ve got a lot to sort out. Are you coming downstairs?’

  ‘No,’ she answered. ‘I’d like to sit here for a while.’

  ‘Of course,’ he agreed. ‘I understand. I’ll have a Family Liaison Officer assigned to you full time. If you think of anything that could help, anything at all, you need to tell them, or if you’d prefer you can call me – any time.’ He slipped a business card from his pocket and handed it to her. She nodded that she understood and sat slowly on the unmade bed, staring down at the porcelain doll in her lap, still smoothing its hair. ‘I’ll be in touch soon,’ he told her and walked from the bedroom, closing the door, giving Jessica privacy for her grief.

  He headed down the stairs moving far quicker than he’d climbed them, snapping the latex gloves from his hands and being careful not to touch the no doubt already contaminated banister rail. The house that had seemed so large and spacious now felt claustrophobic and oppressive. He cleared the bottom two stairs in one bound and strode into the kitchen where the three detectives stood alone. ‘Mr Fellowes?’ he immediately asked.

  ‘Not back yet,’ Sally told him.

  ‘Hopefully he’s getting what we asked for,’ Sean replied before turning to DI Adams. ‘My people will be here soon to take this over. In the meantime, see if you can’t get the family to move out so Forensics aren’t tripping over them.’

  ‘I’ll do my best,’ Adams assured him.

  ‘Once you have the names of the removal people etc, email them directly to me,’ Sean continued, pulling out another business card. ‘My email address is on there. Phone me if you have to.’

  ‘Going somewhere?’ Adams asked.

  ‘I’ve got a lot to get through. Can’t do it standing around here,’ Sean answered, sensing Adams’ annoyance. ‘Listen, I know you’re busy, but I need someone who knows what they’re doing to babysit this one until I get things up and running. The eyes of the world are on us. Someone needs to watch over this family, just for a while.’

  Adams looked at DS Wright, who still hadn’t spoken, and then back to Sean. ‘All right. I can give you a couple of hours, then you’d better have your people here to relieve us.’

  ‘I will,’ Sean promised. ‘And thank you.’ He summoned Sally with a nod of his head and made for the exit, calling back to Adams as they walked: ‘Call me as soon as they come up with the names,’ he reminded him, wasting no time in making for the front door and out into the street beyond, breathing in the fresh cold air like a man who’d escaped from a dungeon.

  ‘You all right?’ Sally asked, hands thrust into her coat pockets against the cold, wishing she still smoked.

  ‘Yeah, I’m fine, or at least as fine as I’m going to be.’

  ‘So where are we heading in such a hurry?’

  ‘To see McKenzie.’

  ‘McKenzie? Why we wasting our time with him?’

  ‘Just because he was locked up last night doesn’t mean he wasn’t involved,’ Sean explained.

  ‘You think he could be working with somebody else – maybe numerous somebody elses?’

  ‘We have to consider it, after everything he’s told us, after everything we’ve found out about him.’

  ‘D’you want me to call ahead and get his solicitor there for the interview?’

  ‘No,’ Sean snapped, running his fingers through his light brown hair. ‘No brief. I need to see him up-close-and-personal – need to see his eyes when I ask him what I need to ask him.’

  ‘And what’s that?’ Sally asked, suspicious and concerned.

  ‘Why,’ Sean told her. ‘I need to ask him why.’

  ‘Why what?’

  ‘Why he’d want me to think he took George Bridgeman. Why would he do that? Why would anyone do that?’

  ‘Well, I guess we’ll find out,’ Sally said. ‘Soon enough.’

  ‘Yes,’ Sean told her. ‘Yes we will.’

  Thirty minutes later Sean and Sally were following the gaoler at Kentish Town Police Station along the old, stone corridor of the cell passage. The eyes of the inmates were pushed up against their spyholes in the hope of catching a glimpse of life beyond their stone and metal prisons. The abuse was punctuated by the occasional wolf-whistle that Sean assumed was for Sally’s benefit.

  ‘Your man’s in here,’ the gaoler told them, unclipping a huge bunch of keys from his belt. ‘Been as quiet as a mouse. Wouldn’t even know he was here if it wasn’t for the need to feed him.’

  ‘He’d hardly want to attract attention to himself,’ Sally pointed out, ‘given his alleged crime.’

  ‘Oh, they already know he’s here and why,’ the gaoler said. ‘The jungle drums have been in full swing. Which interview room d’you want to use?’

  ‘Maybe none,’ Sean answered. ‘I just need a quick word with him in his cell – if that’s all right?’

  The gaoler looked him up and down, trying to judge if he had any malevolent intent before making his decision. ‘Fair enough,’ he finally conceded, ‘but the custody sergeant has already made a note in McKenzie’s custody record that you’re here to interview him, just like you said you were. So if I was you I’d be quick and no funny business, you understand? No unexplained marks, please. I’ll tell the custody sergeant it’s just an intelligence interview you’re after. Should keep him happy so long as you’re not too long.’

  ‘We won’t be,’ Sean promised, ‘and thanks.’

  ‘No need,’ he answered, peering through the spyhole before pushing the large, grey key into the main lock. ‘Fucking child molester. Should hang the fucking lot of them,’ he declared and turned the lock that opened with a smooth, heavy clunk. ‘Mr McKenz
ie,’ he told the dozing prisoner, ‘some detectives here to see you, so get your arse up and pay attention.’ McKenzie stirred and sat up on the wooden bed. ‘Remember what I said,’ the gaoler reminded Sean and Sally. ‘Just a few minutes. That’s all you’ll get away with for a cell visit.’ With that he spun on his heels and marched from the cell, closing the door on his way out without locking it.

  ‘What d’you want now?’ McKenzie immediately asked, trying to straighten his scruffy hair with his fingers as he smiled, self-satisfied.

  ‘What else?’ Sean told him, sitting next to him, trying to be as menacing as he possibly could without saying or doing anything threatening. ‘To talk.’

  ‘I’ve said everything I’m going to say.’

  ‘Ah, but that was before last night.’

  ‘I don’t understand,’ he responded truthfully. ‘Last night I was banged up in here.’

  ‘You were.’ Sean admitted. ‘And while you were locked up nice and tight another child was taken.’ Sean noticed that instantly, but only fleetingly, McKenzie looked disappointed.

  ‘What did they look like?’ McKenzie asked.

  ‘Who?’ Sean replied. ‘The child?’

  ‘Yes,’ McKenzie answered. ‘What did they look like?’

  ‘Why do you want to know?’ Sally asked, but Sean already knew the answer – McKenzie was trying to share the experience of taking the child, feel the thrill of entering the family’s home in the dead of night to snatch their most precious thing away while they slept. McKenzie no doubt imagined things were being done to her as they spoke – things that made his groin tighten and his lips dry with excitement. Sean could see him becoming agitated at the thought of being privy to the details he craved. McKenzie’s vile longings made him want to reach out and strangle him, but he needed to keep him talking – he needed to know.

  ‘She’s five years old,’ he began.

  ‘She,’ McKenzie repeated, his eyes growing wide with anticipation. ‘It’s a girl.’

  ‘She,’ Sally interrupted spitefully. ‘She’s not an it.’

  ‘Yes,’ Sean silenced her, needing to keep McKenzie on the hook. ‘I’ve seen her photograph – she’s very pretty.’

  ‘Her hair?’ McKenzie asked, too excited to form a full question.

  ‘Blonde,’ Sean answered, ‘with pale blue eyes.’

  McKenzie eyed him with suspicion, unsure whether they were even telling him the truth about another child being taken. ‘Do you have a photograph of her? Can I see it?’

  ‘No fucking way,’ Sally swore before Sean raised a hand to slow her down. ‘You can’t show him, Sean. You know what he’s doing.’

  ‘It’s all right,’ he told her, slipping his hand inside his jacket pocket where he had a small photograph of Bailey, knowing he was feeding McKenzie’s fantasy, allowing him to put a face to the poisonous images forming in his mind, vicariously sharing in the abuse he imagined she was suffering. He took hold of McKenzie’s hand and placed the photograph in its palm, feeling McKenzie’s body relaxing into ecstasy as he stared down at the small picture, releasing an involuntary and lengthy sigh as he did so, his left leg beginning to tap uncontrollably.

  ‘This is wrong,’ Sally protested. Sean and McKenzie ignored her.

  ‘Can you help us find her?’ Sean asked.

  ‘What?’ McKenzie replied, so lost in his new world that he hadn’t heard Sean properly.

  ‘Can you help us find her?’ Sean repeated. ‘Do you know where she is?’

  McKenzie’s eyes narrowed as he considered Sean’s questions, sensing a new opportunity. ‘Can I see more photographs?’ he asked. ‘If I can see more photographs perhaps I can help you.’

  ‘What do you need to see photographs of?’ Sean asked, a little confused, but ready to assume McKenzie was just seeking more ways to flesh out his fantasy about the missing five-year-old.

  ‘Her bedroom,’ McKenzie told him, ‘and her house.’

  ‘That could be difficult,’ Sean responded. ‘Difficult to justify why we had to show you those things.’

  ‘Then I won’t be able to help you.’

  ‘Surely you either know where she is or you don’t.’ Tiring of his own game, Sean couldn’t keep the irritation from his voice. ‘Same goes for George Bridgeman – you either know where he is or you don’t.’

  ‘Let me have the pictures and I’ll help you.’

  ‘No,’ Sean insisted. ‘You have to give me something first.’

  ‘Such as?’

  ‘Who are you working with?’ Sean asked bluntly. ‘Tell me who you’re working with.’

  ‘What d’you mean?’

  ‘What was your role in this? Did they just use you to get the front doors open? Who’s controlling things?’ Sean demanded.

  ‘Don’t you know?’ McKenzie asked with an ugly smile. ‘Do you really still not understand?’

  Sean sat back, rocked by what he believed he was being told by his still prime suspect. He snatched the photograph of Bailey from McKenzie’s hand and grabbed him by the hood of his forensic paper suit, twisting it in his hands to make an instant tourniquet around McKenzie’s swelling neck. ‘No more fucking games. Where are they?’ He loosened his grip enough to let McKenzie speak through his still grinning teeth.

  ‘I couldn’t have put it better myself,’ he spat.

  ‘What do you mean? What do you mean?’ Sean demanded, resisting the temptation to once more tighten his grip.

  ‘Like you said,’ McKenzie sneered: ‘games, games, games games. That’s all this was: a game. I don’t know anything about these missing children – I never did.’

  ‘You’re lying,’ Sean insisted.

  ‘No – no, I’m not and you know it. You needed a suspect and you picked on me – an easy target – hated by everyone. I knew you were going to try and make the evidence fit me no matter what, at least until the evidence itself proved it couldn’t be me, no matter how much you wanted it to be.’

  ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

  ‘So I decided to play my own game – never denying it nor admitting to anything, leading your surveillance to the hardware shop and buying the lock-picking tools. I knew you’d have me followed – you made it so easy for me. I knew it could only last until he took another child, but that was long enough.’

  Sean released his grip and pushed McKenzie away from him. ‘Jesus Christ, that’s why you looked so worried when we talked about forensic evidence during that first interview − not because you thought it would implicate you, but because it might implicate somebody else and then we’d begin to suspect you weren’t involved. But why?’ Sean asked. ‘Why would you want us to think you’d taken the boy?’

  ‘To show everybody what a fool you are,’ McKenzie said. ‘An ignorant fool, just like all your kind. You think you can be police, prosecution, judge and jury. Well, I showed you. I proved to everyone you can get it wrong and that you treat people like me as if we were nothing but filthy animals – animals without even the most basic of human rights – to live in freedom and without fear.’

  ‘This is bullshit,’ Sean insisted. ‘What’s the real reason you wanted me to come after you? Tell me,’ he almost shouted into McKenzie’s still smiling face, looking up at him, breathing hard as he began to cackle like a witch.

  ‘I met a lot of interesting people when I was locked in that stinking prison,’ McKenzie explained. ‘A lot of people who told me how to play the game, told me I was missing out, missing out on something every time I was wrongly arrested and held prisoner by the police.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’ Sean asked, the dark anger inside him boiling up from deep, hidden places, images of McKenzie’s smashed and broken face seeping into his mind, his teeth cracked and bleeding, his nose shattered and gushing.

  ‘Five thousand pounds for a wrongful arrest, they told me,’ McKenzie continued. ‘Two hundred pounds for every hour you spend locked up, not to mention my very public defamation of character. Should all add up
to a tidy little sum, don’t you think?’

  Sean felt his fists clenching as he stared into McKenzie’s small yellow and brown teeth, knowing he could knock most of the front ones straight down his throat with one well-placed punch. ‘Money?’ he spat into his face. ‘All this was for money? You deliberately misled an investigation to find a missing four-year-old boy to make some money?’

  ‘No,’ McKenzie corrected him. ‘You misled the investigation – I just played along. So I had a lock-picking set – so what? It used to be my job. And a few scribbles on a map – it could be anything. And now I’ll see you in court, only I won’t be the defendant this time, you will be, and I’ll be the innocent victim.’

  ‘You ignorant fool,’ Sean told him. ‘You’ve admitted to deliberately misleading my investigation and you think you’re just going to walk away from that?’

  ‘Admitted what?’ McKenzie taunted him. ‘Admitted it where? Here, in this cell, with no solicitor present and no recording? What I’ve told you here means nothing. Nothing.’

  Sally saw the muscles and sinews tighten in Sean’s neck and face, his fingers curling into ever tighter fists. ‘Sean,’ she warned him. ‘Sean – it’s not worth it. He’s not worth it.’ The muscles in the side of his face rippled as he fought to control the nearing storm, until finally his jaw unclamped and his blurred vision returned to normal.

  ‘You’d better just pray they’re both still alive,’ he warned McKenzie, standing and stepping away from him before the rage could return.

  ‘They’re not alive,’ McKenzie taunted him. ‘They’re already dead and you know it – you can feel it. If someone like me took them then they’re already dead.’

  Sean froze, as if McKenzie had unwittingly planted a seed of thought in his mind that now needed to be nurtured, fed and watered so it could germinate and flower into something important he didn’t yet fully understand.

  ‘You’re telling me that if you had taken them they’d already be dead? Is that what you’re telling me?’

  ‘Yes,’ McKenzie continued, the smile falling from his now deadly serious face, eyes wild and dilated.