HE WILL FIND YOU an absolutely gripping crime thriller with a massive twist

by Charlie Gallagher

  ‘I’ve just been knackered recently.’

  ‘Fine then. We’ll get a movie or something. You can buy me a pizza and I’ll make it worth your while. I’ll be gone in plenty of time for your precious beauty sleep. Fuck knows you need it, right!’ She bumped his shoulder playfully.

  He giggled, expelling another lungful of smoke, then bumped her back. ‘Sounds like a perfect night.’

  The door behind them thumped and Jack heard feet scuff behind him. He was staring out over the yard, his thoughts elsewhere.

  ‘Time’s up people!’ The nasal voice of Jamie, their shift supervisor, cut through the haze. Jack bit down hard; how he hated that voice.

  ‘We just got here,’ Alyssa replied. Jack stayed looking out, refusing to even acknowledge him.

  ‘You get fifteen minutes. I saw you both go. I started my watch. It’s fifteen minutes now and you’re not even back at your station. I suggest you get going. You get two paid breaks. I won’t pay you for a minute more.’ The shoes scuffed again and the door made a slamming sound. Jack checked his watch. Alyssa looked over at it too.

  ‘Is it really fifteen minutes already?’ she said. ‘I swear, it’s ten minutes of walking there and back. We only get a few minutes off.’

  Jack threw his spent cigarette to the floor in front and watched its trail. He liked to imagine it as a shot down plane, passengers pressed up against the window to watch their doom arrive. He straightened his arms by his side, ready to push himself back to his feet. He glanced at Alyssa. ‘You know what,’ he said, ‘when I’m in charge, that fucker will be the first to die!’

  She chuckled and held out her cigarette carton towards him. ‘Fuck him! Another?’

  Jack grinned. Yet more reasons to like her.

  * * *

  Hythe Road was one of the arterial routes into Ashford. At most times of the day it was choked with traffic but rush hour had brought it to a standstill. Maddie was looking out at the faces of the other people in their cars. There was nothing better to do. Conversation had been stilted. She had long accepted that Harry was not the sort of man to make small talk, but today it was even more noticeable. She was sure his foul mood wasn’t all her doing, but she wouldn’t ask; she knew better than to waste her time. In the early days, she had felt awkward around him, human nature perhaps — the need to fill the silent void. Not anymore. She was turned away, staring out of the passenger window while Harry stared forwards at the rows of brake lights. She liked to people watch. It had been a big part of her life as an undercover police officer and she had learned quickly that you needed to be tuned in to people: how they were feeling; what their intentions were; what they wanted and whether they presented a threat. It was surprising how much information you could get about someone with a quick glance. Looking around today she was sensing a lot of frustration: people checking watches and leaning out to try and see what the hold-up was. It was just after 9 a.m. and a lot of these people were probably late for work. Maddie was late too. She had called ahead and agreed to be there for nine. Their meeting was at an address that was less than a hundred metres from where they were sat, just off a roundabout at the end of the M20 slip road.

  It would be another twenty minutes before they were able to park outside. It was a large detached property, a typical 1930s house, big and square with bay windows top and bottom and a front door with a porch, off to the left side. The door was answered almost immediately.

  ‘You must be Sergeant Ives?’ An older woman with a beaming smile greeted them. She wore loose-looking blue jeans and a fleece top zipped up under her chin. Her hair was tied back; it had a brunette base but the grey looked to be taking over. She stepped back and gestured them inside.

  ‘Maddie.’ They shook hands. Harry introduced himself with his full rank and they shook hands, too.

  ‘Nice to meet you both. I’m Rose. I run the house here. I know you’re here to see my new guest. He’s in his room.’

  ‘How has he been?’ Maddie said.

  Rose pushed the door shut behind them and puffed out her cheeks. Her smile dropped away a little. ‘Quiet.’

  ‘He’s not said anything then?’ Harry cut in.

  ‘No. He won’t even look at me, love. He’s closed all the curtains on the top floor. It’s as a dark as night up there. He was under the covers last I saw him. He would only take the smallest room, too — it’s like a box, really. I think if there was a dark hole up there, he would happily crawl in. But it’s early doors. I’ve had a lot of young people here through the years and there’s not much I haven’t seen before. A lot of them just need time. Time and a loving heart. That’s all any of us want, really!’ Rose beamed enthusiastically at Harry, whose attempt to mirror it looked like it had caused him pain. ‘The poor love’s been through something mighty terrible from what I hear. I know you’ll get to the bottom of it. These kids . . . some of the stories you hear . . .’ She was shaking her head. ‘Everyone deserves a childhood.’

  ‘They do. Is my colleague here yet?’ Maddie said.

  ‘No, but she called. She said she was running a little late. Stuck in the traffic. I got the impression she’s had quite a journey. Is she not local?’

  ‘She’s not. Her skills are not that common, unfortunately. She’s come down from the Midlands somewhere.’

  ‘You don’t work together often, then?’

  ‘We haven’t worked with her before. She works with . . . well, with another department usually. But she’s the right person to help us with our friend upstairs I’m sure.’

  ‘Well, okay then. She gave me very clear instructions on the phone. She said to leave the boy alone until she got here. She said that if anyone arrived before her, I was to keep them away from him. I guess she means you!’ Rose chuckled, but it was uncertain.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ Harry said. ‘I’ll let her know that you passed on her message. But we’ll need to speak with him now.’

  Rose shrugged. ‘Not for me to tell you what to do. I said I’d let you know. She was very insistent on the phone, though. I wouldn’t say she sounded too . . . well, friendly.’

  ‘You direct her to me,’ Harry said. He made for the stairs. Maddie flashed her best reassuring smile at Rose then followed him.

  Every one of the steps creaked, which seemed to be in keeping with the house in general. The walls were painted plainly in a light tone at the top and a slightly darker tone under a worn dado rail. The furniture was an assortment of different types and shades of wood, and the carpet faded lighter the higher they went — Maddie put it down to years of sunshine being allowed to pour through a large window at the top. Today it was covered over. A cabinet at the foot of the stairs had one door that wasn’t quite closed. The whole house had the serendipitous feel that came with misshapen carpentry, and of odd furniture and décor that might have been rejected elsewhere. But here, among similar pieces, everything made sense. Maddie considered that this was not unlike children who had passed through these doors; they were all uniquely different and therefore the same. She was glad of the creaking steps; each one would announce their approach. She could still picture the terrified expression that the boy had worn like a mask when they’d first met. She couldn’t imagine the impact of sneaking up on him now.

  The light dimmed the further up the stairs they went. The large window was covered by a thick roller blind. The doors on the landing were shut too. All bar one.

  ‘He’s in there,’ said Rose, a few steps behind them. ‘One of my rules is that they don’t close their doors. I’ll leave you to it. I’ll put the kettle on for when you’re ready.’ Rose headed back towards the light of the ground floor. Soon the stairs gave their last creak and she was out of sight. Still ahead of Maddie, Harry stepped onto the landing, but stopped halfway to the open door. Maddie stayed still. She had one foot on the landing, the other still taking her weight on the next step down. She leant forward.

  ‘Hey.’ Harry’s gruff voice cut through the silence. ‘My name’s Harry. I’m a police of
ficer. I’m here to help you out, lad. Will you help us?’ Harry paused. Maddie couldn’t see into the room so she just bent her head and tried to listen. Her eyes focussed on a piece of carpet that was frayed where it butted up against the banister. There was no response. No sign of any movement either.

  ‘We want to help you. And if someone else needs help then we want to help them too. But you need to let us know what happened. Can you do that, lad?’

  They waited . . . still nothing. Harry looked back at Maddie. Even in the low light, she could see he was frustrated. She edged forward a little.

  ‘I want you to know that I’m here too. I’m Maddie, remember? I was with you yesterday.’

  There was a sound. Just a small sound, like someone moving a duvet or a cover, but movement all the same. Harry beckoned for her to come closer and stepped back so she was in front of him. She was close enough to see into the open room. It was small. There was a window at the back where hints of daylight leaked out from behind another blind. It was a miserable day and, even with the blind wide open, it would hardly have been bright. She took a step to the left, enough to make out a bed. The covers were gathered up from the edge into a pyramid, the shape of a small boy sitting up.

  ‘You must be hot under there!’ Maddie said, genially. She waited a few more seconds. There was no more movement. ‘I’m not going to come any closer, okay? I’m not coming in. I’m just here to talk to you, to make sure you’re okay. Just like yesterday. You remember that?’ There was still no movement. ‘I need to be sure you’re okay. Can I see you at least?’ She waited, longer this time, determined to coax a reaction. Eventually the cover moved and a spindly arm appeared. It pulled the cover away from a face that still wore the same terrified expression.

  ‘Okay, good!’ Maddie said. The boy’s eyes caught the poor light behind her but only enough to give a clue when they moved. They moved now, from her to the inspector stood behind her shoulder. ‘I brought a friend. Harry here wants to help you just the same as I do. He’s a good friend. He can help you, too. But you need to let him. Is it okay if he stays? I will, too. I promise.’ The glint moved back to her. The boy had wrapped the bedsheet round his shoulders like a cloak and his legs were crossed in front of him. Maddie’s eyes were becoming a little more accustomed to the poor light and she could pick out some details. He wore a white vest and tracksuit bottoms that rode high up his shins. To his right was a bedside cabinet. The boy groped for something under the duvet then pulled out a battered-looking water bottle. Maddie beamed as he placed it down on the cabinet.

  ‘Is that the water bottle from yesterday?’

  He looked right at her then reached out to touch the top of the bottle.

  ‘Well, that was really good thinking!’

  He tapped the bottle again.

  ‘What would really help is if I knew what to call you. Do you have a name?’ Maddie was still smiling. She was sure that she would be better lit than he was. He should be able to see her facial expressions. He tapped the bottle.

  ‘Can you write it down maybe?’

  The bottle toppled over. It rolled off the edge and fell onto the carpet beside the bed.

  ‘Okay . . .’ Maddie tried to think. ‘Is there any way we might be able to find out your name?’

  The boy moved off the bed and took the duvet with him to sit on the floor. His arms and legs were so desperately thin, even for a young boy. He pulled the duvet tighter round his shoulders and set the bottle up in front of him, only to push it over. He looked up at her expectantly.

  ‘I tell you what, the first time I heard about you, I was told you were seen coming out of Dane John Gardens. That’s the park near where I found you. Now, you don’t look much like a John to me, so how about Dane? Is it okay if I call you Dane? For now at least.’

  The boy took a moment, maybe considering her question. When he reached out, he picked the bottle back up and tapped the top.

  ‘Good! Dane it is. So, Dane, are you hurt anywhere?’

  The boy pushed the bottle over. Maddie already knew from the forensic examination that he had some bruises on his back and legs — small ones, the sort that a boy his age picked up easily. Charley had still taken pictures as part of her assessment and documented each one diligently on a body diagram. Maddie had wanted to get the boy checked out by a doctor but that had proven a step too far. He had been okay with Charley, but just the suggestion of going to a hospital was met with a very obvious reaction. A medical assessment would still need to happen, but it would have to be when they had a little more trust.

  He stood the bottle back up. His eyes lifted expectantly.

  ‘Do you take any medicine regularly, Dane? Like every day?’

  He pushed the bottle back over.

  ‘So you don’t have asthma or anything that I should know about?’

  The same reaction. He picked the bottle straight back up and looked at her, it was becoming routine now and his expression had softened a little. They were getting somewhere.

  The doorbell punctured her concentration — the boy’s too. The glint in his eyes suddenly moved away from her, trying to see beyond her as he anticipated a threat. His body shifted and he brought his legs up tight to look even smaller.

  Maddie held up her hands. ‘It’s okay. You’re safe here, okay? I have a friend coming here who wants to help us both. That might be her.’

  His eyes still searched. He pulled the duvet tighter. Maddie heard the front door being pulled open. Soon after, there was a shrill voice. Maddie couldn’t make out words at first, then it got louder. ‘What do you mean? I asked you specifically not to let them up there before I got here!’ From the corner of her eye, Maddie saw Harry turn and then she heard the stairs creaking as he moved quickly down them. The boy scrambled back onto his bed and buried himself in the duvet. The bottle still stood in the middle of the floor.

  Maddie raised her voice a little to be heard. ‘Tell you what, Dane . . . I’m going to go and talk to my friend. I’m going to tell her that we need to give you a few minutes, okay? But then I am going to come back up. It will be me that comes back up to talk again. I’ll bring my friend up to say hello, so you know that she’s just here to help. Is that okay?’

  Maddie got no reaction. She gave it a few more seconds then turned for the stairs herself.

  She made it to the ground floor and found Rose in the kitchen, which was dominated by a large table. Rose smiled at her as she felt the side of a big teapot on the stove. ‘I’ll make a fresh pot, then,’ she announced.

  A woman was on the other side of the room. She stood tall and slim in a smart grey skirt and matching jacket as she scrolled through her phone. She glanced up at Maddie before dropping her eyes to her phone again.

  ‘Anna?’ Maddie prompted.

  The woman raised her eyes and lowered her phone a little. ‘Yes. And you are?’

  ‘DS Ives . . . Maddie. We spoke on the phone briefly yesterday. And this is Inspector Harry Blaker.’

  ‘Well, okay then. So you’ll remember the description I gave of my role?’ She was curt and it felt instantly like a telling off.

  Maddie didn’t appreciate being told off once in a day, much less twice. She bit down on her lip. ‘Yes, I remember we spoke about—’

  ‘What we spoke about was the need for me to assess the young person ahead of any other professionals. I said specifically that this would include police officers. What I told you was how important that would be.’

  Maddie took a breath before she replied. ‘I seem to have built a little rapport with the lad. I was the first person on scene and—’

  ‘So you said yesterday.’

  Maddie took an extra breath. She could feel her anger rising and needed to be calmer. She had been assured at great length that they needed this woman. ‘And how was your trip down?’ she managed, finally. ‘You’re from the Midlands, is that right?’ She looked to small talk to calm the room as a whole. Maybe they could start again.

  ‘West Bromwich. I
left at four this morning and drove for five hours to provide you with my advice. I do not expect to arrive to find it is already being ignored.’ The woman’s tone showed no signs of softening.

  ‘Maybe we should have used someone closer.’ Harry’s growl carried a warning that Maddie had come to recognise. She knew he wouldn’t care if a senior officer thought they needed her or not.

  ‘Closer? If you can find anyone with my skillset closer then you go right ahead.’

  ‘I’m not convinced we need a particular skillset just yet,’ Harry said. ‘Time will tell.’

  The woman still had her phone in her hand. She pushed it into her pocket and fixed her attention on the inspector. ‘You are aware of my CV? Of my experience in police matters?’

  ‘No. All I’m aware of is the boy upstairs. I’ve been told that he needs a lot of patience and understanding before we can hope to find out what he knows. I just hope that is all part of your skillset, too.’

  The woman pouted a little, as she looked Harry up and down. ‘I have worked with children who have seen parents killed by the Taliban . . . who have been trained as suicide bombers at the age of seven and had the soles of their feet slashed to prevent them running from their fate . . . who have seen hangings and shootings on an almost daily basis, and some who have even pulled the trigger themselves — nine-year-old executioners. You might think there is no way back from that. But children are resilient. With the right care and attention, they can come to terms with these incidents and make sense of the world without it destroying them. My role is to assess and advise. I advise the patient and understanding people with just what should be done so, no, I am not blessed with a great deal of patience myself and what little I do have will run out quickly when my advice is ignored.’

  ‘Did you read my report?’ Maddie said quickly, before her boss could reply.

  ‘Yes of course! Your description is everything I would expect from someone who has experienced some sort of trauma . . . no verbal communication at all, no eye contact and a conscious effort to nullify NVCs.’