Bye Bye Baby

29

"I got a message telling me there was a change of plan," Mrs Wilson said later.

What was left of the day's sunlight crept through the sitting room's bay window, drew a line across the floorboards and came to a stop just short of her feet.

Before we'd driven her home, she'd shown us where she'd dropped off the money. It was a dead-end close only five minutes round the corner from the school. The kidnapper had told her to stuff the bag behind a couple of red trade waste bins. That was about an hour before we got there, and by the time we arrived, the money was gone. Of course. We'd left some officers checking the area in case anyone had seen it being picked up.

"What kind of message was it?" I asked. "Another note? Phone call? Text message? Email?"

I'd spoken to my uncle about ten minutes ago, expected him to say it was finally time he spoke to Mrs Wilson himself. But he said he trusted me. Said that I knew the mother, she was happy to talk to me, so there was no point in him trying to establish a relationship with her when I'd done that already.

I was doing fine, he said. And Erica was there now to hold my hand.

He wasn't sure about the shrink, though.

Dr Snow had come right away. And my uncle was wrong. She'd already been of help by taking Bruce to his room to play, clumping up the stairs with her walking stick, Les a couple of steps behind her. Mrs Wilson was terrified of letting Bruce out of her sight, but it was the only way we could talk freely. Bruce's kidnapper hadn't hurt him, she said, which was something, at least.

Mrs Wilson finally answered my question. "It was a phone call."

"On your landline?"

She nodded.

"Has anybody called since?"

"I don't know."

I'd called Les, but I had his mobile number from when he'd rung me and I'd used that. It was a long shot, but worth a try. We could get Mrs Wilson's phone records, but it would take a while.

"Erica, would you mind checking?" I asked. "See when the last call came in and if there's a number?"

"The phone's by the window," Mrs Wilson said.

Erica moved off to see what she could find.

"Carry on," I said to Mrs Wilson.

"The man told me I had to sneak away. Deliver the money this afternoon. And if I told anyone, or anyone followed me…" She cleared her throat. "He said there would be a real finger arriving in the post."

"Was it your own idea to ditch your car?"

"No, he told me to. Said you'd be looking for it."

"Tell me about his voice," I said.

"From around here," she said. "Middle-aged." She shrugged. "Nothing that stood out."

Erica came back.

"Any luck?" I asked.

"Public phone," she said. "Might be CCTV coverage."

Somehow, I doubted it. This guy was too smart.

Mrs Wilson agreed. "You're not going to catch him, are you?" she said.