by BL Pearce
They laid the evidence bag on one of the plastic tiles, then Rob gingerly took out the backpack. It was heavier than he expected. Katie’s name was sprawled in permanent marker down the side. Lisa’s handwriting, no doubt.
The bag was wet and stained by the water, but inside it was merely damp. The plastic lining had protected it from too much damage. He took out a pink, child’s jumper, and swallowed. This wasn’t good. There was a whiff of talcum powder and something else, something sweet. A rubbery orange and yellow pencil case with shiny cartoon characters on it. New, by the looks of things. Opening it, he saw it had the obligatory pencils, a rubber and sharpener inside.
A lunch box with a transparent lid. A blurry image of a sandwich and what looked like carrots and cucumber slices. Lisa was a competent parent. A packet of crisps and a bottle of water had also been stuffed in the backpack.
Nestled at the bottom was a large stone. That would explain the weight. Rob glanced up at Mallory. “Look here.”
He lifted out the stone and placed it beside the backpack.
“Weighted down,” remarked Mallory.
“We’ll analyse it for fingerprints and DNA,” the forensic officer said.
Rob put it back into the evidence bag. Would the kidnapper have been stupid enough to leave prints on the rock? They could only hope.
“No phone?” asked Mallory. Lisa had said her daughter had a phone, but it was diverting straight to voicemail. Another bad sign.
He had another rummage. “Nope.”
Mallory peered into the murky water. “Maybe he threw it in separately. To destroy it.”
Rob scrutinised the water around the rushes, but it was too muddy to see clearly. “Will is tracing her last known position.”
Mallory nodded, but his expression was grim.
Rob looked around. “Why here? You’d think the kidnapper would want to get her out of sight as fast as possible. Not waste time at the reservoir.”
“He wanted to get rid of the backpack?” Mallory suggested.
“Yeah, of course. But he could have thrown it in the river, or into a bush or something. He didn't need to come into the reservoir to do it.”
The surface of the lake sparkled at them.
“You don’t think…?” muttered one of the police officers. He’d gone pale.
Suddenly, the beautiful pond took on a more sinister air.
Mallory caught Rob’s eye. “We’d better call in the divers.”
Rob clenched his jaw.
This was a pretty deserted spot. It had been nearly – he glanced at his watch – four hours since Katie disappeared. Plenty of time for the kidnapper to do his dastardly deed and dump the body. A midge dive-bombed his face and he swatted it away.
“Yeah, do it.”
“Jesus,” murmured the other copper. Nobody wanted to consider that Katie Wells might be at the bottom of the lake.
“It’s just a precaution,” stated Rob. “We have to explore every avenue.”
Mallory got on the phone.
“This isn’t a very well-known spot,” Rob pointed out. “The kidnapper had to have been a local or at the very least, familiar with the neighbourhood.”
“They’re on the way.” Mallory hung up.
Rob glanced once more into the water. Was she in there?
“Let’s go,” he said, pulling himself together. “There’s nothing more we can do here, and we need to talk to Katie’s friend, Candy.”
They walked back towards the path. A feeling of dread hung over them.
“There’s only one reason to get rid of the backpack,” Rob said as they made their way back to the vehicle. “Because Katie wouldn’t be needing it.”
Mallory didn’t reply.
“He wasn’t planning on holding onto her.” Rob intoned. “He knew she wouldn't be needing her jumper or her packed lunch.”
Mallory swallowed. “Let’s wait to see what the divers find before we jump to conclusions.”
His DI was right, but it didn’t look good for Katie. The sense of dread intensified.
7
Candy Dalling was a confident, blonde cherub with wide eyes and a ready smile.
“I waited for five minutes,” she told Rob and Mallory in the school canteen, “but then I had to go. Miss Smith doesn’t like it if we’re late.”
“Miss Smith is the teacher in charge of rollcall in the morning,” explained the red-faced Head Teacher sitting in on the interview. “All the pupils have to sign in when they arrive.”
“While you were waiting,” Rob asked Candy, leaning forward in his chair. “You didn’t see anyone else on the street, did you?”
Candy shook her head.
“Not a man or a woman walking by, or anyone waiting near you?” Rob pressed.
“Well, it was rush hour,” said the little girl precociously.
Mallory hid a smile behind the bad Styrofoam cup of coffee they’d been given from the staff room.
“So yes, there were other people walking by, but I didn’t notice anyone just hanging around.”
“Okay, thank you Candy.”
“I hope you find Katie,” she said. “It’s not like her to go off by herself.”
Rob hesitated. He didn’t know what she’d been told, and the last thing he wanted to do was alarm her.
“What makes you think she went off by herself?” He ignored a warning glance from the Head.
“Oh, I don’t. Katie’s shy, she wouldn’t go anywhere by herself. I had to go into the shop with her the other day to buy Maoams.”
Rob glanced at the head teacher.
“It's a sweet,” she said.
He had never heard of Maoams.
“Would she have talked to a stranger?” he asked Candy.
“No, definitely not. We know all about stranger danger.” The child’s eyes were sombre now.
Rob nodded. “That’s good. Don’t worry, we’re doing our very best to find Katie.”
Candy gave a firm nod, her lips pressed together in a satisfied smile.
Rob wished everyone had as much faith in the police.
Mallory drove them back to the station while Rob fielded one call after the next.
“The police helicopter didn’t pick up anything and is going back to base,” Jenny told him. “And I’ve sent the dog unit to the nature reserve, as requested.”
“Thanks Jenny.”
Please let them pick up her scent. Anything to indicate she wasn’t lying at the bottom of that reservoir.
“Rob, the press has set up camp outside the front entrance. You might want to come around the back.” Vicky Bainbridge’s voice was filled with suppressed excitement. She loved it when they had a big case on, and the journalists came sniffing.
“How’d the press release go?”
“Short and sweet. You know Sam.”
He did. The Chief Superintendent didn’t mince his words.
“I heard the alert go out on the radio.”
She sniffed. “He did what needed to be done. We’ve roped in Twickenham to help man the hotline. Hundreds of people are calling in with sightings of Katie.”
It was always the case. It would be up to the officers manning the calls to filter the information and report back anything that warranted further investigation.
Frustration burned in his gut. If they weren’t paying attention, things got missed, but then he couldn’t micromanage everything. He should be back at the station overseeing the case, not out interviewing witnesses, but there was something about this case. He wanted to be in on it. It was important. A little girl’s life depended on him.
“Thanks Vicky, keep me posted.”
“Did you find anything?” she asked, hesitantly.
There was a pause.
“We found the child’s rucksack in the reservoir.”
“Christ,” she croaked. “Poor little thing.”
“I’ve got to go, see you later.”
“We need a fucking lead.” He knocked his fist against the window.
&
nbsp; Six hours.
Time was running out.
“Fucking hell,” snapped Rob as they turned off A316 into Kew Road and came to a standstill. The traffic had backed up to the intersection thanks to the crowd that had gathered outside Richmond Police Station.
There was an impatient honking of horns as motorists tried to get past. A motorcyclist weaved through the backlog, nearly swiping his side mirror.
“Where’s traffic control when you need ‘em?” muttered Rob.
As they drove past the front of the building, they saw a uniformed police officer frantically waving cars by and ushering the indifferent reporters onto the pavement. It wasn’t doing much good.
Around the corner, it got even worse. Press vans had ramped the pavement and camera crews were setting up, oblivious to the no parking signs and the yellow line that ran down both sides of the road.
“Don’t the rules apply to the media?” Mallory shook his head.
“It’s a goddamn circus.”
Rob put on the siren and forced his way through the mayhem to the underground carpark entrance around the back. They entered the building via the internal elevator, bypassing the furore outside.
Instead of going up to the top floor where CID was located, he pressed the button for the ground floor. Mallory raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment.
“Get rid of those reporters,” Rob barked to the sweating duty sergeant who’d disabled the revolving door. “This is a police station, for God’s sake. Get some officers out there.”
The man grabbed the telephone. “Yes, sir.”
“Unbelievable,” Rob muttered, shaking his head.
They took the elevator to the top floor.
“DCI Miller. My office!”
The Chief Superintendent’s voice rebounded around the squad room the moment they walked through the doors.
“Here we go,” he murmured, as Mallory fled to his desk. Sometimes Rob understood why the DI didn’t ask for that transfer. It was easier letting someone else take the brunt.
“Sir?”
“What the fuck are you doing waltzing around Barnes? I need you running things from here. You’re not a DS anymore.”
“I was visiting the crime scene,” he said.
“Well, make sure you’re here from now on. Someone’s got to keep this show on the road.”
“Yes, sir.”
“What have you got? The Police Commissioner is breathing down my neck and there’s a riot in the street outside.”
Rob didn’t dare sit down. “We found the kid’s rucksack in Barnes reservoir. The dog unit is there now trying to pick up her trail. There’s CCTV in the area, so we’re hoping to find something on that.”
“Jesus Christ.”
Lawrence also knew the relevance of the discarded backpack.
“What about the school friend?”
“She didn’t know anything.”
“Shit, Rob. We have to find this girl, and soon. Nobody wants to see Katie Wells’ dead body in the papers tomorrow.”
“I know, sir.” Tension clawed at his insides.
The Chief Superintendent sat down, his seat groaning in protest. “What about the parents?”
“We’re searching each of their premises, as well as the boyfriend’s,” he told him. “I’ll follow up now.”
In other words, let me get back to work.
DCS Lawrence glanced at the framed photograph on his desk. A younger, fuller-haired version of himself with his wife and their three daughters. They were older now, in their twenties. That photo had been on his desk ever since Rob joined the department.
“We’ll find her, sir,” he said quietly.
The Super nodded but didn’t meet his gaze. False promises were never a good thing.
“Keep me posted, Rob.”
8
“Where are we on the CCTV?”
Rob directed his question to Jeff, who glanced up from his laptop.
“Not good news, I’m afraid, Guv. The camera at the Swedish School is broken, and they’re waiting until the term starts to fix it. Seems no one’s around to approve it.”
Rob rolled his eyes.
Damn.
He’d been counting on getting something from that. A murky figure or a shadowy shot of the little girl. Anything that would give them a lead.
“What about the council estate up the road?”
“We’re going through the feeds now, but nothing so far.”
“Okay, keep on it.”
He turned to Mike Manner, a black, south London copper who’d transferred to the department last year. He was a big bloke with a well-built gym body and a rough scar along his jawline. Rob still hadn’t asked him how he’d got it. “Any luck with the ANPR?”
Mike raised his head, his scar caught the light. “There are five Automatic Number Plate Recognition cameras in and around Barnes. I’m going through the data now, but I can’t find anything that jumps out. Sorry, guv. I’m looking at the speed cameras too, just in case.”
Rob sighed. “Thanks Mike.”
So, nothing visual. “Where’s Celeste?”
The DC he’d put in charge of the door-to-door enquiries came in holding a cup of coffee. He was about to shoot her a disapproving look, then remembered this wasn’t a detention centre and she was entitled to a hot beverage. In fact, he could bloody use one too.
“Any good?” He eyed out the murky brown liquid in the takeaway cup. The canteen had recently changed suppliers, which made everyone nervous because the coffee hadn’t been all that bad before.
“It’s okay.”
That meant it was crap. Perhaps he’d wait and grab one from across the road. “Any news on the door stepping?”
She sat down at her desk and tapped the space bar. Her laptop lit up. “Not as such. We have a lot of very concerned citizens. Most of the neighbours knew Katie, or had seen her and her mother in the street or at the local summer fete last weekend on Barnes Common. It seems to be quite a close-knit community.”
Fantastic. Rob didn’t give a monkey’s how close-knit they were, unless one of them had seen something and could give him a lead.
“Nothing of interest?”
She shook her head. “Not yet, sorry.”
Everyone was sorry. He was sorry. Shit. He rubbed his eyes.
“What about the mother, father or the Polish boyfriend? Do we have anything on them?”
Please, give me something.
Evan, the soft-spoken American lifted his hand. Rob felt like a schoolteacher. “Yeah, what you got, Evan?”
“The mother is completely clean. She hasn’t even had a parking ticket in the last five years, however, her husband, Brian Wells, worked in the city as a Finance Manager until last year when he got fired for gross incompetence. He now runs his own business from home. Some sort of consultancy, by the looks of things.”
“That might be worth looking into. Find out why he was sacked.”
“Yes, boss.”
He’d never been called boss before, but it sounded right in Evan’s soft, American drawl.
“What about the Polish construction worker?”
“Nothing on him, but I haven’t looked outside of the UK yet.”
“Okay, keep me posted.”
Evan nodded.
Gross misconduct. Now that was interesting. Rob glanced at Mallory who was typing rapidly on his computer.
“Let’s go and have a word with Brian Wells,” he said. “We’ll check how the property searches are going while we’re there.”
Mallory slide his chair back and got to his feet.
“And let’s get a decent cup of coffee on the way. I’m gasping.”
Belgrave Road, the street Katie Wells lived in, was still closed to traffic, an unrepentant police vehicle parked horizontally at each end.
“That didn’t take long,” Rob muttered, eyeing the press vans parked outside the cordons. They weren’t allowed in but had set up their cameras for sweeping shots of the street the little
girl was abducted from.
“The school just rang. They’ve got reporters outside filming too.”
Rob spread his hands. You had to pick your battles.
He flashed his warrant card to the officer on duty who raised the cordon and they drove through, parking outside Lisa Wells’ house. The windows were all shut with the blinds drawn, despite the balmy summer’s day. Rob didn’t blame her. It was only going to get worse. Once they took down the cordons, the media would be free to camp outside the property and lie in wait.
As they climbed out of the car, the front door opened and two police officers emerged. They wore gloves and booties, but unlike forensic officers, they didn’t have full protective suits. They were conducting a house search, not examining a crime scene.
“Find anything?” Rob asked.
The woman shook her head. “No, sir. We even had the cadaver dogs in. Nothing.”
Thank fuck for that.
“Okay, and you checked the basement and the attic?”
The man nodded. “The house is clean, sir. Katie isn’t there.”
It was Katie now. You knew the press were winning when everyone began calling the missing girl by her first name.
It wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. Humanising her might make the kidnapper think twice before hurting her. That was supposed to help, although he’d yet to see any evidence of it. A sane, rational kidnapper, perhaps, but most of the sick, deranged psychopaths he dealt with would have committed their crime no matter how human their victims were made out to be.
They found Lisa crying in the kitchen.
“Mrs Wells, can we have a word?”
She nodded through her tears.
Rob sat down while Mallory took up a less obtrusive position by the door.
“Is there anyone we can call to be with you?” he asked. She wore the haunted, hollow look of desperation. And was dressed in the same dirty, torn clothing from that morning. “A sister or another family member, perhaps?”
She gave a brief, shuddering gasp. “My brother and his wife are driving down from Yorkshire. They’ll be here soon.”
That was something. “Okay, good. Now, Mrs Wells, do you mind if I ask you some questions about your husband?”
She wiped her nose on her sleeve. “Brian? Why do you want to know about him?”
