by BL Pearce
“Bromley Prep. We’ll put up the details shortly.”
Mallory wrote the school name underneath Katie’s home address. Below that, he wrote Candice Dalling and a question mark.
That led Rob on to his next point.
“DS Mallory and I will talk to the school friend, Candy, but I don’t expect she’ll know much since she didn’t see Katie this morning.” He moved on. “Will, you’ve got Katie’s mobile number. We need to see if we can get a read on her. Her mother says it’s going straight to voicemail.”
Will, a competent DS who used to work in the vice squad prior to transferring to CID, said, “It’s switched off, so we can’t trace it. It may have been damaged or destroyed. But I’m looking into her last known position.”
Rob gave him a terse nod and pushed on. “We’ve scrambled a helicopter and the dog unit is on their way. When you study the map, you’ll see there’s a wooded area next to the river, that’s Barnes nature reserve, and we think she might have been taken there. It provides the most coverage and would have been the quickest way of getting her off the road and out of sight.”
“Wouldn’t Lonsdale Road have been busy at that time of day?” asked Jenny Bird, an up and coming DS who’d been instrumental in bringing the Revenge Killer – bloody journalists and their nicknames – to justice last year. “It was rush hour.”
“Yeah, but don’t forget Hammersmith Bridge is still closed, so not many cars use that route anymore unless they’re travelling locally. The only way across the river is via Putney or Chiswick bridge. Still, there is bike and pedestrian traffic. We’ll put out a public alert, someone may have seen something.”
He snapped his fingers. “Get Vicky Bainbridge up here. She needs to hear this.”
Vicky, a stylish, cool-as-cucumber woman in her early forties was the Richmond police’s press liaison officer. She controlled the flow of information from the department to the public and helped them issue any appeals for information. She also trained the officers who gave statements to the press, making sure they maintained a confident, capable air on television, and didn’t divulge too much or get flustered under the often-aggressive media onslaught. Even now, Rob hated doing them, but with Vicky’s guidance, he’d become a lot better at it.
Jenny fired off a text message. Her phone buzzed in response.
“She’s on her way up.”
Rob gazed over the heads turned towards him until it settled on a dark, curly-haired DC with a smiling, round face. “Celeste, I need you to organise a door-to-door. We have to canvass everybody who lives on Katie’s street, as well as on her route to school. It’s only three blocks, but we need to do it ASAP.”
Celeste turned bright pink at being signalled out, but her face broke into a wide grin. She was one of the youngest members of the team but learning fast. She’d handle the uptick in responsibility.
“Yes, sir!”
Rob addressed the entire room. “We have to move fast, people. I don’t have to tell you that every second counts. The helicopter and K-9 unit will feed info back to this department. Any leads, call me directly.”
His team nodded.
“The rest of you, we’ve got search teams at Katie’s house and her father’s, Brian Wells, as well as the mother’s boyfriend, an Eastern European by the name of Sergio Wojcik.”
Mallory had written their full names and addresses on the board.
“Find out all you can about these three persons of interest. Any criminal records, domestics, mental health issues, you know the drill. Also, check the CCTV footage in their areas, see if their alibis hold up. Both men claim they hadn’t left home by the time they got the message from Lisa saying Katie had disappeared. I also want all ANPR data for vehicles leaving that area in the given timeframe. Every car, van and lorry must be documented and traced.”
Heads bobbed. Nobody questioned the orders. A missing child was as serious as it got.
Vicky Bainbridge sashayed in. As usual, she was immaculately attired in a navy skirt suit with a white blouse, open at the neck, displaying a sleek gold necklace that glittered against her tanned skin. She’d just got back from one of the Greek islands, but he couldn’t remember which one.
“I’ve heard. The disappearance is all over social media. There seems to be some sort of local search and rescue going on.”
“Christ.” Rob ran a hand through his hair that was becoming increasingly wayward as the day wore on.
“Get over there, Rob,” belted Lawrence from the back, making several unsuspecting officers jump. “We can’t have community helpers contaminating a potential crime scene, no matter how well-meaning they are. Have we cordoned off the nature reserve?”
They hadn’t. Not yet, anyway.
“I’m on it.”
“Are we issuing a Child Rescue Alert?” Vicky turned to Lawrence. This was the UK equivalent to the US Amber Alert system upon which it had been based. “If we are, might I suggest doing it sooner rather than later, before the trail goes cold.”
She knew her stuff. Prior to the police service, Vicky had been a news presenter on a local talk radio station until a caller had begun leaving threatening messages. After what had happened to Jill Dando, the BBC Crimewatch presenter who’d been gunned down outside her house in west London, she hadn’t wanted to take any chances.
“No career is worth my life,” she’d told Rob once, after drinks at the local pub.
DCS Lawrence nodded. “I’ll take care of it. Rob. You get going.”
Rob raised his eyebrows. It wasn’t often the Chief Super issued a press release these days. But he was right, Rob was better utilised elsewhere right now, and since DI Mallory would be with him, the Super was the highest ranked officer on site.
Vicky pursed her lips, also surprised. “Okay, Sam. I’ll mobilise the powers that be. Shall we say half an hour out front?”
He nodded and disappeared back into his glass office. He didn’t need a pre-release briefing. His thirty years’ experience was more than enough.
5
Rob and Mallory listened to the child abduction alert on the radio on the way to Katie Well’s house. It interrupted the local programme, and it would be broadcast to television stations across the UK, followed by the social media channels.
Lawrence pitched the perfect blend of sombre and urgent as he urged the public to keep their eyes and ears open, and if they saw anyone resembling eleven-year-old Katie Wells – dark hair, blue eyes, wearing school uniform and carrying a pink rucksack – to contact the police straight away by dialling 999.
“Let’s hope someone saw something,” Mallory murmured as they drove alongside the glittering Thames. The rowers were out in full force this morning, their streamlined eight-man boats flying along with effortless grace, hardly creating a ripple on the glassy surface.
Rob grunted in reply. It was unlikely, but you never knew. Sometimes they got lucky.
The street in which Katie lived was now cordoned off with uniformed officers stationed at each end. Police vehicles were parked along both sides of the road, their unapologetic blue lights sending an ominous message. Back off. Something terrible happened here.
Uniformed officers conducted house-to-house enquiries. Residents were out on the pavement answering questions and straining their necks to see if they could spot Lisa, the hapless, ill-fated mother of the missing child. Every parent’s worst nightmare.
A small crowd had gathered outside a neighbour’s property. It was a well-maintained double-storey terraced house with over-zealous pot-plants positioned on either side of the glossy black front door. A Porsche 4x4 stood in the driveway. It made the Wells’ house look dingy by comparison, even though theirs was within keeping of the general middle-class standard of the neighbourhood.
A tall, middle-aged man stood on the steps outside, addressing the group. He had a commanding presence. Successful businessman. Married. Moved to the area for the schools but worked in the city. Several people had their phones out and were capturing the moment
.
“What’s going on here?”
Rob marched up, closely followed by Mallory who scanned the faces of everyone in the gathering. He’d commit them to memory and while not as effective as a photograph since it was only in his head, he’d still be able to recognise a face if it popped up later. Perpetrators often involved themselves in an investigation by joining the search.
They’d take names and contact details too, just in case.
Rob walked right up to the speaker and held up his warrant card. “DCI Miller from Richmond CID. We’re leading this investigation. Could you tell me what’s going on here?”
“We want to help find Katie,” the homeowner said.
Nods all round.
“And you are?”
“Ed Maplin. I head up the neighbourhood watch.”
Aah.
“Okay, Mr Maplin. While we appreciate what you’re doing here, we have officers conducting a thorough search of the area, including the nature reserve.”
As if to emphasise the point, the police helicopter chose that moment to fly overhead, its propellers throbbing definitively through the air. Everyone glanced up.
“That you?” Maplin asked.
Rob nodded, then addressed the group. “Please could everyone here give their names to my DI.” Mallory raised his hand. “If we need any additional assistance, we’ll let you know. In the meantime, if everyone could keep their eyes peeled for sightings of Katie in and around the neighbourhood while they go about their normal business, that would be great. Thank you.”
Maplin hesitated. He wasn’t used to being upstaged or taking orders.
Rob lowered his voice so only Maplin could hear. “You understand the importance of not contaminating a potential crime scene.”
He gave a grunt. Thankfully, he was a sensible man.
“Guys, we’re going to postpone the search and let the police do their thing. Can I ask that you all stay vigilant? If you see anything suspicious, let the police know.”
Rob gave a curt nod. “Thank you for your assistance.”
Mallory took down everyone’s name.
The yellow and black National Police Air Service helicopter circled above, preparing to do another flyby over the area.
He beckoned to a uniformed officer standing nearby. The man came over.
“Can you take a video of this gathering before it breaks up?” he asked. “I want a frontal shot of everyone here. Don’t make it obvious.”
The policeman nodded and pulled out his phone as he walked across the street. He positioned himself behind a police vehicle and began filming.
Rob turned back to Maplin who was talking to a leathery, grey-haired woman in oversized jeans and a loose T-shirt with a vintage-style Kew Gardens logo on the front. She had dirt under her fingernails and stains on her knees.
“Are you sure there’s nothing we can do?” she was saying.
Rob cleared his throat.
“This is Tessa Parvin,” Maplin said. “She’s a local resident and a member of the neighbourhood watch.”
“I can’t believe what’s happened,” she said to Rob. “And right here, in Barnes. It’s unthinkable. This is supposed to be a safe area.”
“We’re doing all we can to find her,” Rob stated.
Up close, Tessa Parvin was much younger than she looked. Probably mid-forties. It was the grey hair and ruddy complexion that made her appear older.
“Did you know Katie?” he asked.
“Yes. I mean, I’ve seen her around. Her mother, Lisa, was friendly to me when I first moved into the neighbourhood.”
“When was that?”
“Three years ago. I came here because it was so safe. I never imagined…” Her voice faded out.
It’s not the area, he wanted to say. It’s the actions of one delusional kidnapper. Abducting a child wasn’t done on a whim. It was planned. The perpetrator would have been waiting for the opportunity to get Katie alone. They’d probably been watching the house for some time, knew her routine. When she was late for school, unattended, they’d pounced.
His throat constricted. God only knew what they were doing to her now. He blinked and squeezed the thought from his mind. He had to stay focused. There was still time.
His phone buzzed and he glanced down. It was an urgent alert from the team searching Barnes nature reserve. He called the number given.
“DCI Miller. Any update?”
“This is PC Winters, sir. We’re in the nature reserve near Leg O’ Mutton reservoir. We’ve found a child’s rucksack partially submerged in the water.”
A shiver shot down his spine. He wanted it to be hers, but at the same time, he didn’t. Because he knew what it meant.
“Colour?”
“Pink, sir. It’s got Katie Wells written down the side.”
Shit.
“Okay, cordon off the entire area and call SOCO. I’m on my way.”
He beckoned to Mallory. “Let’s go. We’ve got our crime scene.”
6
The crime scene investigators were already there when Rob ramped the pavement in front of the Swedish School on Lonsdale Road and cut the engine. The forensic van was open at the back and two crime scene officers were getting kitted up.
“Morning.” Rob climbed out of the car.
They nodded back at him. There was no pathologist present as they didn’t have a body. Yet.
Rob prayed it stayed that way.
Etched through the nature reserve from road to river was a dirt track. On the right was the school and, on the left, hidden in thick woodland, the disused reservoir, which in reality was more of a large pond. He remembered coming here years ago and being surprised at the sudden reveal. One moment you’re on a nature hike, and the next, the woods open up and you’re staring at a glittering lake flanked by magnificent beech and poplar trees, many over a hundred years old. It was completely invisible from the road and the river path, and only the locals and a few avid map-readers knew it was there.
Rob nudged Mallory and pointed towards the right.
Mallory glanced up. Positioned on top of a stark metal pole in the school yard was the dark, bulbous eye of a private security camera. Being late July, the school was shut for the summer holidays, but that didn’t mean the camera wasn’t operational. Most of the private schools in the area had constant security to prevent vagrants and troublemakers breaking in when the school was unoccupied.
“I’ll get on it as soon as we get back,” his DI said. “If she came this way, it had to have picked her up.”
They veered to the left, through a rickety gate overgrown with prickly hawthorn bushes. Up ahead, a narrow dirt path wound through the tall trees into obscurity. A pair of pastel blue butterflies flickered past, chasing each other in a haphazard air-dance.
Already, the sound of traffic from the road had dwindled to nothing and the warm air rustled as branches protested and creatures scurried in the undergrowth.
“Beautiful spot,” Mallory murmured.
“Wait till you see the reservoir.”
They trudged along, past a dog walker and a fit elderly couple with trekking poles hurrying the other way. They’d obviously been told to evacuate the area, judging by the concerned expressions on their faces.
Suddenly, the trees parted, and the secluded lake shimmered in front of them. It really did look like a leg of mutton, wider at their end and narrowing on the far side. Birds waded around the edges, while dragonflies swooped down over the surface. The heavy meadowsweet mixed with the damp twang of reeds and rushes.
“Wow,” Mallory breathed. “I had no idea this was here.”
“Not many people do,” Rob acknowledged. “It’s a well-kept secret.”
On the far side, uniformed police officers wound a roll of no-nonsense yellow tape around the trees, securing the area where the rucksack had been found. Rob squinted, sunlight stabbing at his eyes. Was that a smudge of pink against the muddy bank of the reservoir?
“It’s bigger than
I expected.” Mallory surveyed the body of water.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought the first time I came here too. Come on, let’s get over there.”
Footsteps caused them to turn around. The white-clad masked-up crime scene officers looked absurdly out of place amongst the natural environment like astronauts navigating a strange planet.
“Where is it?” one asked.
Rob pointed to the far side. “Follow us. We’re heading that way.”
They followed the path around the lake to the far side and came to a stop outside the cordoned off area.
Rob and Mallory flashed their ID cards, as did the forensic officers. A policeman lifted the cordon and waved them through.
Plastic tiles had been placed on the ground to avoid contaminating the scene, and the forensic officers walked down them, then squelched into the wet grass and mud at the edge of the water. They surveyed the area, looking for larger, more obvious clues.
Finding nothing, they moved closer. Any footprints made by the perpetrator would have been compromised by the police officers who had found the rucksack.
“How many of you have been on site?” asked the lead forensic officer.
A deep-voiced policeman replied. “Only three of us, sir, and only one got within a metre of the rucksack.”
“We’ll need your boot prints,” he said. “For elimination purposes.”
The policeman glanced at the muddy ground. “How?”
“You can give them to us at the van, afterwards.”
The forensic officer turned back to the rucksack. They studied it up close for a long time, then carefully lifted it from its muddy resting place and placed it into a large, clear evidence bag.
“Can we look inside?” Rob took out a pair of latex gloves.
The officer nodded but he wasn’t happy about it. They were potentially compromising evidence. But this wasn’t a homicide investigation. Yet. That backpack could contain something that would lead them to the missing girl.
