A Second Chance: A British Crime Thriller (A DCI Pilgrim Thriller Book 5)

by A L Fraine

  He didn’t have children of his own, but he’d seen the parents of enough kidnap victims and murdered children over the years to know how it affected people.

  Often, it just broke them. For many, their lives were effectively over from that point on. They might continue their lives, going about their day to day business, but that dark cloud would follow them for the rest of their lives.

  He’d seen couples split and families torn apart by recriminations and hurt, and wondered how these parents might fare.

  “We never caught him,” Nathan continued. “The killer, he got away, but he murdered five children. We saved two others, Emily and one other.”

  “Right, shit. Okay. Thanks for letting me know. We’ll tread carefully.”

  “I think that’s a good idea.”

  “Tell him to pull the files of that original case,” Jon said.

  Kate nodded. “Did you hear that?”

  “Loud and clear. I’ll get on it,” Nathan answered.

  “Thanks,” Kate said and hung up before looking over at him. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

  “Mmm,” Jon replied, as his mind raced with possibilities following this new information. “Former kidnap victim, whose kidnapper was never captured, has her son taken? Yeah, that’s suspicious as all hell.”

  “Ten years is a long time to wait though.”

  “Maybe, but the chances of that happening are so remote.”

  “Agreed, but we need to keep it in mind,” Kate said, as Jon sped up, eager to get to the scene as quickly as he could. Milo’s mother would probably be going out of her mind with worry, thinking that her son was about to be murdered. Thinking ahead, he was well aware of how crucial the first day or two were in a kidnap case like this. It was imperative to get the details out there into the public as quickly as possible if they were to have a chance of finding the missing child.

  That would, of course, bring its own complications, mainly with the press, who would be both a key resource but an ever-present annoyance. But, there was nothing for it. They would need the local and national media on this one.

  “Did you hear that Debby’s divorce came through recently?”

  “Sorry?” Jon said, his train of thought derailed.

  “Debby Constable in the office. She’s got divorced after her husband cheated on her.”

  “No. I didn’t know that. Is she okay?”

  “I think so. I thought you should know, just in case it came up.”

  “Okay, yeah. Thanks.”

  “Oh, it’s just up here. Take a left,” Kate said and directed him in using a map on her phone.

  The street was a long, residential road, with semi and detached houses lining both sides and a crescent offshoot on the right. They were on the outskirts of Epsom, on the north side, and there were plenty of trees and bushes lining the quiet road.

  The whole estate was the antithesis of where you expected a crime like this to happen. It was so normal and safe looking. It caused a shiver to run up Jon’s spine. Only the presence of police cars and forensics vans mixed with press vehicles broke the illusion of civility.

  As they pulled up, he could make out cameramen and reporters milling around, talking to people or doing pieces to camera. He sighed to himself.

  “I hate it when they get in on a case early.”

  “Looks like someone leaked it,” Kate said.

  “Yeah. Still, it should work to our advantage on this one, at least.” Jon released his seatbelt and regarded Kate, her auburn hair pulled back in her usual ponytail, with just a couple of wispy strands falling over her face. She smiled back at him.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, I’m fine,” he answered, with that familiar knot in his stomach that came when he knew that an innocent was being hurt. “Let’s get this done and find Milo.”

  Kate gave him a serious nod. Suddenly all business. “Guv.”

  Climbing out, Jon locked the car and strode towards the police line, moving quickly and purposefully while keeping an eye on the nearby press. Detectives like them stood out. Even in their plain clothes, the press could almost smell them. They had an uncanny knack for sniffing them out and harassing them. But right now, the press on site couldn’t know for sure that they would be the senior detectives on the case. Jon took advantage of that to get to the officer on the line before they were intercepted by any media. As they were let through, a couple of reporters spotted them and started to make their way over, but they made it inside the cordon before they got to them, much to Jon’s relief.

  The cordon was set up on a T-junction where the crescent road rejoined the main road. Beyond the outer police line, marked and unmarked vehicles were parked up, blocking lines of sight into the road. Jon walked through with Kate at his heels and was soon directed to Sergeant Dyson.

  “Pilgrim, O’Connell,” the Sergeant said in greeting. “Good to see you.”

  “And you,” Jon replied.

  “How’ve you been?” Kate asked.

  “Alright, I suppose,” Dyson replied. “Didn’t really expect you guys to take this one.”

  “We get all sorts,” Jon answered. “What have you got for me?”

  “Not a lot. It’s a missing child of eight years old. He lives just up the street there.” He pointed back to the main road, beyond the police tape and the waiting press. “He went out for a ride around mid-morning. Just around the crescent here and back. He’s done it plenty of times before, apparently.”

  “And he never came back?” Jon guessed, seeing where Dyson was going with this, as he put himself in the shoes of the parent as they waited for their child to return as the minutes ticked by.

  Nightmarish.

  “That’s right. He was with his grandmother, who was looking after him.”

  “Was there anything found?” Jon asked, noting the various officers who were carefully walking the street, looking for clues.

  “There was, follow me.” Dyson led them up the street. Hidden by a tree and other surrounding foliage, Jon spotted the entrance to a cut-through. A path between two houses that probably led to another road. Walking into the alley, Jon spied more officers, including a small forensic team crouched by a bike that lay discarded partway up. A bike helmet lay beside it.

  “I take it that this is Milo’s bike?” Jon asked.

  “That’s right,” Dyson said. “His grandmother found it here, like this. She didn’t touch it, luckily.”

  “Good. So, nothing else left behind?”

  “Not that we can tell. This path leads to another road, and beyond that, a field with a small children's play park. I’ve already got officers doing door to door, looking for any CCTV or home security cameras we might use. There’s no traffic cameras around here.”

  “Okay, great,” Jon said as a figure in a white coverall walked over.

  “Hi Jon, Kate,” Sheridan said, their unit’s forensic Crime Scene Manager.

  “How’s it going?” Jon asked.

  “There’s not a lot to go on. We’re lifting prints and looking for anything that can give us a DNA match. We should be able to place Milo here at least.”

  “OK, thanks. Keep us updated.”

  “Will do,” Sheridan said and returned to her work.

  Jon scanned the fence lined pathway. He looked towards the far road and then back towards the crescent.

  “What do you think?” he asked Kate.

  “Hard to say,” she answered as she studied the scene. “There’s no obvious signs of struggle, but that doesn’t mean there wasn’t one. I’d guess the kidnapper took Milo that way, away from the crescent, but that’s just a guess.”

  “Yeah, that would be my assumption.” He turned to Dyson. “You’re going door to door?”

  “We are.”

  “Check to see if anyone in the closest houses heard anything. Shouts, a child screaming, anything like that.”

  “Already on it,” Dyson replied.

  “Great. Okay. Let’s go see the pare
nts.”

  “They’re at the house. This way.” Dyson led them out of the alley towards the main street and the edge of the Police line. “You’ll have to battle through the press.”

  “Bloodsuckers,” Jon said, steeling himself for the walk through the waiting media. “Let’s get this done.”

  They saw them coming and rushed to the line as Jon approached.

  “Detective, can you tell us what’s happened?”

  “Is it a missing boy?”

  “When did this happen?”

  “Do you have a statement for us?”

  The questions were incessant as the reporters crowded around them, pushing and shoving, sticking microphones in their faces while cameras focused on them.

  “It’s this way,” Dyson said and guided them up the street. Jon could already see the house they were heading towards. Like the crime scene, it was marked by a couple of uniformed officers in high-vis vests standing guard while more press stood nearby, feeding off the pain and suffering of others.

  “Can you tell us anything, Detective?”

  Jon scanned the faces of the press as they strode along the road, trying to out-pace them, and picked out a few faces he knew from the previous cases and the press conferences he’d been a part of.

  They were just doing their job, like he was, but he couldn’t help his dislike for them. They were vultures, circling the victims of predators, waiting to get their pound of flesh. However, they did have their uses.

  While he wanted to wait until he’d spoken with the parents, he would need to talk to them soon and bring the press in as a way to get information out to the public consciousness. As he approached the parents’ house, he decided he might as well pique their interest. Stopping at the driveway and turned to face them.

  Jon raised his hands and waited, urging them to calm down and listen.

  “Thank you for your interest in this case. I will be making a statement shortly, but please, I need to ask you to respect the privacy of the families involved. Thank you.”

  The moment he stopped, the assembled reporters mobbed him again, calling out questions in their desperate need for more.

  But Jon ignored them and turned away, making for the house at the end of the driveway.

  3

  The victim’s home was a basic semi at the end of a long driveway with three cars parked on it. As they approached, Jon took a long look at each car, making a guess as to who each one belonged to. The last one into the driveway was a well-maintained saloon with a couple of phone holders on the dash. It had a sticker in the front window with a short code printed on it.

  The sticker sported the logo of TooFro, the internet taxi company that was all the rage these days. If he had to guess, he thought this was likely to be the husband's car, and he worked as a taxi driver.

  The next one, a small hatchback with a family sticker on the back, would be the mother’s. It could do with a clean, he noted, spotting used sweet wrappers in the footwells.

  Jon eyed the last car, another small one, with an air freshener hanging from the rearview mirror.

  “Is the grandparent still here?” Jon asked, guessing this was likely her car.

  “She is,” Dyson answered. “Figured you want to speak to her.”

  “We do. How have they been?”

  “I’ve not had much contact,” Dyson answered. “But, they’re upset, as you’d expect them to be.”

  “Of course.” Jon turned to Kate. “Is Faith on her way over?”

  “She is,” Kate confirmed. “She shouldn’t be long.”

  “Good. Right then, thank you, Sergeant. We’ll take it from here.”

  “Right you are, sir.” Dyson left them to it with a curt nod.

  Jon watched him go, before turning to the door and ringing the bell.

  A man answered. Jon guessed this was the husband, judging by the raw look he had in his eyes and the shell-shocked expression on his face. He wore casual clothing. A polo shirt and jumper. His jeans were muddy around the hems.

  “Hello. Mr Kay, is it?”

  “That’s right,” the man said

  Jon held up his warrant card. “I’m Detective Pilgrim, and this is Detective O’Connell. We’d like to speak to you about your missing boy, if that’s okay?”

  Mr Kay peered at the ID. “Of course, yes. Please, come in,” he said and stepped away from the door. Jon followed him inside, and Kate shut the door behind them. “We’ve already spoken to another officer.”

  “I realise that. I’m sorry. I’ll be leading the hunt for Milo, so we’d like to hear it all from you, direct. Is that okay?”

  The man sighed and nodded, looking like the weight of the world was on his shoulders. “Then, you’d better come through.”

  He led them into a corridor with family photos on the walls, and cutesy slogans written on plaques. He read a couple of them.

  Home is where the WiFi connects automatically.

  Housework can’t kill you, but why take the chance?

  Jon smiled at these relics of a happier time as he walked into the front room to find two women. The younger woman was sitting in a chair, her head in her hands and her long dark hair falling about her face. The older lady, sporting grey hair, was standing at the window, her arms crossed as she stared out through the muslin drapes.

  She turned as Jon and Kate walked in. “This is intolerable,” she griped. “How dare they stand out there like that, feeding off our misery? They’re vampires.”

  “They have their uses,” Jon said solemnly. “I’m Jon, this is Kate. We'll be leading the investigation into the disappearance of your son,” Jon glanced at the older woman, “and grandson?”

  “That’s right,” the older woman said. “I’m Sue Thorpe, his grandmother. This is Emily and Darryl. I’m Emily’s mother.”

  Jon nodded and noted that Emily had lifted her head. “I’m sorry to put you through this, but we’ll do everything to try and find your son. His name’s Milo, right?”

  “That’s right,” Emily said, her eyes bloodshot and red from the trauma of the event. “You have to get him back. You must. Please. I know what these bastards do.”

  “We know. I’ll get to that, but can you tell me what happened?”

  “I was at work,” Emily said, a hint of defensiveness and spite in her voice.

  “We both were,” Darryl said.

  Emily grunted as she gave Darryl an unkind look.

  “I was looking after him,” Sue said. “We were having a nice morning, and Milo wanted to go for a bike ride. He asked to cycle around the block…”

  “You mean around the crescent?” Jon clarified.

  “Manor Gardens, that’s right,” Sue said, naming the road. “He’s a good cyclist, and he’s done it before, countless times.”

  “Not alone,” Emily snapped.

  “He has,” Darryl cut in. “More recently, he has.”

  “But he shouldn’t. I keep telling you he should be with someone. I knew something like this would happen. I knew it.”

  “You didn’t know that,” Darryl replied. “How could you? We can’t keep him locked up his entire life. It’s not fair.”

  “He’s eight years old,” Emily cried.

  “Exactly, and this is a very safe neighbourhood.”

  Emily pulled a face.

  “Well, generally speaking,” he added.

  “This kind of thing is very rare,” Jon said, attempting to defuse the situation. He didn’t want this to descend into an argument. “But, it does happen. That said, none of you did anything wrong. Children need their space too. No one could have predicted this would happen.”

  “I did,” Emily said. “It happened to me.”

  “We’re aware of your history, Mrs Kay. But please, can we stick to the events of this morning for now, please.”

  Emily gave a dramatic sigh and slumped into the chair, her hand to her head as Jon returned his gaze to Sue.

  “Darryl had said before he left that I could let Milo cycle
around the crescent, as long as he came back after each circuit. I said he could go around it once and come back. I couldn’t go with him. I’m not quite as spritely as I used to be, and he’d leave me in the dust. Anyway, he went, but after a while, I started to get worried when he didn’t come back. So I went looking for him.”

  “And that’s when you found the bike?”

  “That’s right. It was just lying there in the cut-through with his helmet.”

  Emily sobbed.

  “You didn’t see anything else?”

  “Nothing, no. That’s when I called the police. I didn’t touch anything either. I know you prefer us not to.”

  “You did the right thing, Mrs Thorpe,” Jon said and turned to Milo’s parents. He noticed how Darryl and Emily kept their distance, and from the outbursts so far, it looked like she was already blaming him for allowing Milo to cycle on the street alone. It was a tough call, choosing how much freedom to give your kids. They needed some independence as they got older, some space to do their own thing, and yet there was always that fear that something would happen to them if you let them out of your sight.

  Usually, it was a totally unfounded fear. Kids were tough and often more than not capable of looking after themselves. But, tragedies did happen, and there were people out there who were dangerous. That was the sad reality of the world and one that Emily had suffered through first-hand. He wondered if she would ever forgive Darryl for the choice he’d made, especially if something happened to Milo?

  “So, you were both working?”

  “That’s right,” Darryl said. “I’m a TooFro driver and was on a fare. Emily works at a Charity shop in town.”

  “Thanks. I could have told him myself,” Emily snapped.

  Darryl held his hands up in surrender.

  “I called them right away,” Sue said.

  “We got back as quickly as we could,” Darryl confirmed and sighed. “I just, I don’t know what to think. I know I said he could go around the block, but I never thought this could happen. And, I know what Emily went through, but I didn’t think it could happen again.”