by Alex Clare
As the team returned to work, Robyn loitered by her desk, restless, feeling she was missing something. The calls were still coming in with unhelpful suggestions, the constables bringing over notes to be recorded. Janice stood before the map holding a yellow pin.
‘I’m going to have to put a Post-it note in the sea to represent calls saying Ben’s abroad. It’s from someone in Glasgow whose sister in Melbourne “saw” Ben an hour ago. She thought she’d better call “just in case”.’
They looked at each other, then both smiled. Janice dropped the note into a bin. Robyn glanced at her watch. It was new, a woman’s watch, smaller than her old one; she had to look closer to see the numbers.
‘Janice, it’s time you went. You shouldn’t even have been here today. Go and enjoy what’s left of your birthday.’
‘Well, I’ve had enough of them, they’re nothing special any more. We didn’t have anything planned.’ She became serious. ‘A case like this makes you worry for your own kids, even though they’re all grown up. Is your Becky coming down this summer?’
Breathing in before she spoke, Robyn made an effort to sound relaxed. ‘No, she’s staying up at uni for the holidays because she’s got a part in some summer play. I guess that counts as a job for an English student.’
‘You’ve got to let them find their own way.’ Janice gave the cluster of photographs on the corner of her desk a fond smile. ‘At least my Simon seems settled now. Abi’s finished her gap year after her degree and has signed up for an MA, which just sounds like an excuse to keep being a student. Josh is supposed to be job-hunting now he’s finished his degree but he’s in Cornwall camping with his mates at the moment doing goodness-knows-what.’
‘I’ll tell you what to do with your tall, dark handsome son, Janice. Lock him up until he’s thirty, otherwise you’ll be a grandmother before you know it.’ Lorraine had walked in and was standing beside them.
‘Not something to joke about.’ Janice folded her arms. ‘Fortunately, for an anxious mother anyway, the poor lad had his heart broken when he was eighteen and he’s more interested in sport and music. Anyway, assuming he’s passed his exams, he should now have a law degree so I’ve told him he’s got to get himself out of trouble from now on.’
‘Right.’ The chatter about normal things was a momentary relief but Robyn was conscious they had made no progress and, beside her, Lorraine was fizzing with energy.
‘Guv, have you got a couple of minutes to talk about the break-ins? I may have something.’ Lorraine perched on the corner of the desk, one leg swinging, even before Robyn nodded.
‘All six burglaries have had a common approach. An elderly person has opened the door and someone barges past them, grabbing cash and small valuables, leaving before the victim recovers enough to call for help. In Pickley, on Friday, we finally had a witness who saw someone running away. I thought the sighting was useless at first as she didn’t see his face until I thought about her description of the clothes. She said he was all in black, long-sleeved and skin-tight as if he was wearing a wetsuit.’
She pulled a piece of paper from her bag.
‘This is the report of an incident in May, before these burglaries started. You know the Gaddesford bank holiday festival: arts, crafts, music, all sorts? I was there, with the band, we were playing a set in the marquee. Anyway, all the artists in the village put on exhibitions and open their studios to anyone who wants to come in. So, on Tuesday, when an artist reported cash and some other bits missing, there wasn’t a lot we could do as the whole village had tramped through their home the day before.’
Robyn’s attention was caught by Graham holding his hand up for quiet, his mobile to his ear.
‘Guv? You want me to come back?’ Lorraine was drumming a rhythm on the desk.
‘Sorry, Lorraine, carry on. So what makes you think this earlier theft is connected, when it appeared to be opportunistic?’
‘I think he was warming up, testing a method …’
Graham interrupted, phone held up. ‘Guv, the search teams need to know the priorities for tomorrow so they can get the overtime budget approved.’
With a shrug of acceptance, Lorraine strolled back to her desk. Robyn scanned the map – Ravi had shaded the areas already searched. The choice now was to devote resources tomorrow to the Docks or the villages. As Graham talked cricket into the phone, Robyn ran her fingers over the map, seeking inspiration.
‘The Docks.’ She turned to face Graham. ‘Search all the warehouses. There’s a lot of waste ground and places to hide. Volunteer teams are already out in the villages. I think Ben’s close and we can check out the potential link to Ms Chivers’ work.’
Graham was grinning as he passed on the instructions. She would have to have a word with him as she didn’t want him to be thinking they were chasing the Dearmans. Robyn turned towards Lorraine when Janice gave a cry of triumph. ‘Here we are. June fifth. Anonymous tip-off: something hidden in warehouse B at the Docks. Man’s voice, distorted, no background sounds, no number, nothing to follow-up. We can check this out as well.’
‘Warehouse B?’ Graham checked his own notes. ‘That’s the one Ms Chivers did the planning for.’
Robyn breathed a silent thanks. She’d never trusted detectives who claimed they acted on hunches but sometimes she was pushed to know why she made certain decisions.
Ravi hunched over his computer. ‘I’ve got the Docks up on Google Earth. Which one’s B?’
Graham leaned closer. ‘Pull back a bit. It’s the second one in from the estuary mouth.’ The screen showed the dark rectangles of the warehouses between the pale squares of tower blocks and the grey curve of the river. ‘Right, now go in. No, there, there. According to the Gazette, it’s going to be a posh hotel with river views.’
Ravi zoomed in. ‘Why would posh people want to stay in Meresbourne?’
Graham laughed. ‘Apparently, Meresbourne is going to have a “leisure-led” revival, whatever one of those is. It’ll never bring as many jobs as the Docks had though …’
Robyn brought her hand flat down on the desk, the bang getting everyone’s attention. ‘Yes, all very interesting but we need hard leads. We’ll need warrants to get access to sites on the Docks – Ravi can you get those? Janice, sorry, before you go, can you get the road blocks sorted for tomorrow?’
Robyn walked across to Lorraine, who was trying to find a space in a bin. The team had been drinking a lot of coffee.
‘Lorraine, I’m sorry. Carry on. So you think the Gaddesford crime is linked to the rest of the burglaries?’
Lorraine drew the file towards her again. ‘Well, obviously there, he didn’t need to intimidate the owner because the door was open. Still, a lot of things tally. A quick in and out and only small things taken.’ She cocked her head to one side, pausing before the punchline. A trick she’d learned from Graham, thought Robyn, gesturing for her to continue. ‘I reckon he’s a cyclist, wearing Lycra and only taking small things like jewellery because he puts them in his bike panniers.’ She smiled. ‘When prompted, the Gaddesford artist remembered her neighbour had complained about a cyclist in the lane, because they kicked a cat which was rubbing itself against his bike. So, I want to check the CCTV, see whether we’ve got any other sightings.’
‘How do you think he targets houses?’ Robyn was following the logic.
‘That’s the big question. I think he targets the villages because there are fewer people around and he obviously likes the elderly because they’ll open the door then not put up a fight.’
‘Look at organisations working with the elderly, council, charities.’
‘Top of my list for tomorrow, Guv. Now if I can, I’ve got a gig tonight?’
Of course. Lorraine’s band was playing the regular Monday night jazz jam. Robyn knew, because she’d always emphasised to the team that they should have a life outside the police.
Robyn glanced at her watch: seven-fifteen. If tonight had been a regular night, she’d be getting ready to go
the Meresbourne Town testimonial match for the departing manager. Lorraine was hovering, her bag slung over her shoulder: Robyn nodded acceptance.
Janice stood up, holding up her phone. ‘I’ve got a call for you, Robyn – it’s Khalid, the new media guy. He wants a word.’
‘OK, put him through, then you go home.’
A map was covering her phone, so it was three rings before Robyn answered it.
‘Good evening, Robyn. How are you?’
The line crackled. She used the pause to dredge her memory for the one occasion she’d met Khalid Guler, a couple of months before, when he’d been introduced at one of Fell’s senior team meetings when Roger had been deputising because DCI Golding was off sick again Khalid had embarked on something called a “cross-silo listening programme”. She hadn’t stayed because she was busy with a case and Carl Golding had only been off for a week. There was no telling how long he would be off for this time.
‘Fine, thanks. And you?’
Khalid’s voice drifted in and out mixed with traffic noise.
‘… seminar in London … current exposure … multi-channel … leverage …’ Ravi waved and left. Janice was still straightening the items on her desk.
The wail of a siren cut through the fractured speech, followed by a beep as the line went dead. Matthew appeared in the doorway, already changed into his cycling kit. Robyn pointed to her phone, trying Khalid’s number. Her call back went straight to voicemail.
Graham and Matthew were talking in low voices.
‘Anything?’ There was no hope in the question: Robyn knew she would have been told of anything important.
‘Discarded syringes and a stash of empty handbags in Victoria Park, presumably stolen. A rough-sleeper whacked a Police Community Support Officer with a “Clean up after your dog” sign because she woke him up. Not serious but she’s gone to the hospital for a tetanus booster.’ Matthew scratched his five o’clock shadow and Robyn fought the urge to check her own chin. ‘The check-points on the main road found four untaxed cars, two with no insurance: all makes up the numbers.’ His smile was a workmanlike expression, not touching his eyes.
Robyn sighed, appreciating the attempt at lightening the mood, just not able to share it. ‘What about the house-to-house searches?’
Matthew tapped his foot. ‘One of our dogs sniffed out cannabis in someone’s locker at the shopping centre.’
‘Doesn’t get us any closer to Ben, though.’ She worried at a ridge of skin by a fingernail. ‘What could we have missed so far?’ The media would ask about every aspect of the investigation – that must be why Khalid was calling.
‘Now it’s getting dark, the search teams will be standing down for the night.’ Matthew was shifting his weight from foot to foot, his cycle shoes making an odd noise on the lino.
There was a pause. Robyn thought through the twelve hours since Ben had gone. If he had managed to escape or been dumped, the darkness would hold its own terrors for a toddler without his mother. And if someone was with him – there was another set of possibilities she didn’t want to start thinking about.
Matthew put his hand on the door. ‘We’ve had search teams all over the place, every news channel’s showing the kid’s picture. I don’t think there’s anything more we can do tonight. The teams will start again at first light.’ He left, pulling the door behind him, the catch shutting with a snap.
Robyn stood up, seeing Janice at her desk with a pile of statements in front of her. ‘Go home, Janice. Thank you so much for coming in but there’s nothing more we can do today and we all need to get some rest.’
He could be anywhere by now.’ Janice pushed her hair back from her face and sighed.
Her look of defeat echoed Robyn’s thoughts. She knew it was up to her to lift everyone out of this. ‘Right, tomorrow. Graham, you lead the Dock search and Janice, with him – you two know the area best. I’ve got to speak to our press team first thing …’
Graham sniffed, miming yack-yack.
‘… and I want to have another word with Ms Chivers. Now, good-night.’ Robyn picked up the map of the Docks.
Graham’s face was neutral. ‘You sure that’s a good idea, Guv?’
‘I’m leading this case and she’s the mother of the missing boy. Why shouldn’t I speak to her?’
‘Come on, Janice, let’s get you out of here.’ Graham picked up Janice’s bag and started for the door.
The door swung shut behind them. The debris of a day lay scattered around the office. Somewhere, there was a small boy, away from home. Robyn forced herself to think. If the kidnapper had planned the snatch, they would have prepared somewhere to take Ben, bought nappies and food. Unless his welfare was irrelevant and he was already dead. Her phone rang.
‘DI Bailley. Oh hello, Susan.’
She had to hold the phone at arm’s length until the torrent of bitterness slowed. By the time Robyn dared to listen, she picked up Susan was not getting on well with Ms Chivers.
Robyn decided not to risk sympathy on a professional sympathiser. ‘OK. Are there any more details you can give me on the family?’
‘This woman is an utter control freak.’ Susan’s voice reached another pitch – Robyn put the phone on speaker and lowered the volume. ‘I guess it all helped her to get where she is but I’ve never seen anything like it. Gillian came over just after four – she was terrified, which I suppose is understandable. Ms Chivers was spookily calm and the first thing she asked about were the receipts from the shopping! Then she stares at them for ages, leaving Gillian in the corridor holding the bags and tells her she should have got a discount in the dry-cleaners because she put in four items.’
‘Wouldn’t be the first thing on my mind if my child were missing.’
Susan laughed, a harsh sound. ‘I reckon Ms Chivers was very poor at some point in her life; she seems obsessed with every penny. She keeps every single receipt – there are filing cabinets full of them.’
Robyn leaned closer to the phone. ‘Was Ben mentioned at all?’
‘It was as if she was trying not to mention him, as if he hadn’t really vanished. I think that’s her way of coping.’
‘Anything else I need to know?’
‘The next thing she did, she told Gillian to make dinner and, tomorrow, to ring Ben’s school and tell them for every day he’s not there she’ll be withholding the fees.’
Robyn whistled. ‘Ms Chivers thinks of everything.’ Jumbled noises came down the line. ‘Where are you?’
‘Ms Chivers told me to go. Said she didn’t need me. I asked her if she wanted something to help her sleep and she threw me out.’ Susan’s voice was rising again.
‘Are you saying she’s without support?’
‘No, a tall, black bloke who called himself “Reverend” something arrived earlier. They went into the front room and shut the door. I could hear some sort of singing and a smell like incense.’
Robyn reached for the button to end the call. ‘OK, well, keep on top of things, Susan. Grief can sometimes strike at odd times. If we need to talk to Ms Chivers again, we’ll see her at work.’
‘Good luck.’
The corridors were quiet. Robyn went to the disabled loo, to have the heavy door swing shut, leaving her in darkness. Fumbling by the door, she found a cord, then she hesitated, worrying she might pull the emergency signal. Squinting in the sudden brightness, she couldn’t undo the trousers’ fastening, at last remembering the hook went the other way. Desperate, she yanked down the trousers and sat, facing a large mirror on the opposite wall. She wondered why anyone thought you’d want to watch yourself on the toilet. The harsh light hid nothing. There was no trace of the make-up, applied with such care and stubble showed dark against the limp blouse. Her next laser hair removal session wasn’t for over a month as the sessions had to be six weeks apart. Until she’d completed the eight treatments needed, it looked like she’d have to bring a razor to work. Roger looked back at her, albeit with different-coloured hair. All of thi
s grief and effort to get nowhere.
In the incident room, a girl in a grey tabard was picking her way around the piles of paper. Robyn reached for her handbag. It wasn’t there. The perfect end for Robyn’s first day.
The cleaner noticed her expression. ‘You want I come back?’
‘No, no, I just can’t find my bag.’ Robyn smiled at her and got a broad grin back.
‘I help you.’ Together, they scanned the cluttered room. Robyn found the bag by Janice’s desk.
‘But this woman’s bag. I see but not thought it yours?’ The girl grinned again, her blonde pigtail swinging as she bent to retrieve her cloth. ‘Ah, to your wife.’
Robyn tried to laugh, feeling the beginning of a headache. She retrieved the car key from the handbag and turned to go. The girl was the same age as Becky. She turned back. ‘How are you going to get home?’
The girl emptied a bin into a black sack. ‘I walk. No buses at late night.’
Before she’d gone on leave, there’d been reports of a man trying to drag young women into a car as they walked home. ‘Hang on.’ She went to one of the cupboards and rummaged in the box they used at community engagement events. ‘Here, take this. It’s a personal alarm.’ The girl’s mouth formed into an ‘O’ of surprise. Robyn held the device out. ‘If you meet a drunken idiot, you pull this cord and it makes an awful noise, giving you a chance to get away.’ She tipped it onto the girl’s palm.
