Make Believe

Chapter 7

Early that morning Janine made her way through the press camped outside the Wrays’ house, ignoring the intrusive thrust of cameras and the questions the journalists called out: Any news for us, ma’am? How are the family coping? What progress have you made? What about the bearded man seen at the park?

Claire Wray opened the door herself and flinched at the barrage of activity outside.

‘Is there any news?’ Claire said as they went into the kitchen.

‘No, I’m sorry. Is Clive here, Claire?’

‘He’s out, we’ve no milk. If you want tea…’

‘That’s fine,’ Janine said.

‘He won’t be long,’ Claire said. The woman was so jittery. Her face flickered with emotion, hands busy.

‘I need to ask you a very difficult question, Claire. And I wouldn’t do so if it wasn’t vital,’ Janine said.

Claire Wray nodded stiffly, stuffed her hands in her pockets. She looked at Janine directly then away.

‘We believe Clive is lying to us about going walking,’ said Janine.

‘I don’t know what to think anymore,’ Claire said urgently.

Janine scalp prickled. Claire knew something. ‘Claire?’

‘The suspicion. It just grows and poisons everything. I thought I was being paranoid. He was so jumpy every time anyone asked us where we were. I thought I was going mad. His boots were clean. I looked in his pockets. I was going to ring you.’ Claire pulled a sheet of paper from her pocket. She handed it to Janine along with a little ticket.

‘That’s where he was,’ she said agitatedly. ‘Look at the date. He’s lying. A time like this and he’s lying. Why would he lie, when Sammy… why would he lie?’ She was distraught, close to breaking down, her eyes wild.

Janine took in the contents of the flyer.

‘Thank you. I realise how very difficult this must be and I’ll make sure we find out exactly what’s going on. Can I ask you to keep this between ourselves for now until I’ve had time to look into it?’

Claire, her mouth working with worry, nodded.

‘There may be a very simple explanation but you did the right thing telling me,’ Janine reassured her, when they heard the door opening.

‘Mr Wray,’ Janine said.

‘Hello?’ he said. He went to put the container of milk in the fridge.

‘I’m afraid I have no news as yet but I wanted to call and see if either of you had anything to add to your statements.’

Clive shook his head, ‘No, sorry.’

‘Have either of you remembered anything fresh about the day Sammy went missing or the period leading up to it?’

‘The vandalism,’ Claire said suddenly.

‘What?’ said Janine.

‘We had these incidents, the car was scratched and the tyres let down, then we had a stone thrown at the window,’ she said.

‘You didn’t report this to the missing persons inquiry?’ Janine said.

‘It was weeks before, it was just kids,’ Clive said dismissively. ‘You get a spate of things and then it goes quiet.’

‘Could you make a note for me,’ Janine asked them. ‘When the incidents occurred, exactly what happened.’

‘You think there might be a connection?’ Claire said.

‘Just being thorough, we don’t know yet what is significant and what isn’t but it is important to consider everything.’

Claire nodded, wringing her hands.

As she left them, Janine wondered if Claire had the fortitude to keep quiet about what she had uncovered or whether she would crack under the pressure and confront Clive. The sooner the inquiry could establish exactly what was going on with Clive Wray the better.

‘We know he wasn’t hiking,’ Janine told Richard as they rode up in the lift to the incident room together. ‘But we get the story behind this before we pull him in.’ She indicated the leaflet and parking ticket in a protective evidence bag.

Richard’s phone rang and he answered, ‘Millie.’

He listened and laughed. ‘Do you now? Well, you’ll have to wait, won’t you?’

Oh please, Janine thought. She could do without being party to innuendo-ridden flirting between Richard and Millie. She rolled her eyes at him but he affected not to notice.

‘But listen,’ he said, ‘Clive Wray, his wife’s shopped him. He wasn’t roaming the dark peak, turns out he was at Sport City.’

Janine bristled. Who was he to go telling the press office what was happening? She was in charge.

‘Don’t know, yet,’ he said.

The lift stopped and the doors opened. There was more dirty laughter from Richard as he ended the call, ‘Yeah, catch you then,’ and followed Janine out.

Janine glared at him.

‘What?’ he said.

‘I’m the SIO. I decide when and how the press officer is briefed,’ she snapped.

Richard looked taken aback. ‘She was on the phone. Are you serious?’

Of course she was serious, she wouldn’t have bloody-well said it if she wasn’t.

‘Look,’ he said crossly, ‘maybe it’s a bit tricky for you, Millie and I seeing each other, working the same case together. If that’s hard for you to deal with, me dating someone here, if you want me to step down…’

God, no! She felt ridiculous, exposed. He was making her out to be some petty bully and implying she was jealous. Besides they had a break in the case, it was all about to escalate. She wanted Richard onside not shipped off to another inquiry.

‘It’s got nothing to do with that,’ she said hotly. ‘You’re way off the mark.’

‘Am I? What then? Enlighten me!’

‘I do not have issues about you dating. It’s about clear channels of communication, that’s all.’

‘If you say so.’

‘Richard, you can date who you like, it’s none of my business.’

‘You got that right.’

‘As long as it doesn’t affect your professionalism,’ she said.

He gasped, was about to object but she overrode him. ‘Fine, that’s sorted. Here.’ She passed him the flyer and the parking ticket. ‘Get someone onto that. We’ll schedule the meeting once we’ve more information on why on earth Clive Wray was at Sport City.’

‘Yes, boss,’ he flung the title at her and swung off in the other direction. Was she losing his friendship now along with everything else?

Shap’s trip to the Sport City stadium paid dividends. The place was state of the art. Built to host the Commonwealth Games back in 2002 and now home to Manchester City football team, it included impressive security with comprehensive CCTV coverage. Shap was made comfortable and shown the rudiments of the console so he could view the relevant CCTV footage. The parking ticket was timed for 10.55 and activities had been focused around the playing fields. So he began from that time and concentrated on that location.

Forty minutes later he found film of Clive Wray, Clive being given the bum’s rush by a very attractive, young competitor.

‘Naughty boy,’ Shap murmured and went to see about e-mailing the file across to the inquiry.

Now he sat with the others in the incident room as they all watched the scene: an under-16 girls’ hockey match stopped for half-time; a digital time counter on the screen showing 11.45; All Saint’s v Marsh High School visible on a scoreboard. Spectators and players milled about as Clive Wray approached a player, a young woman with long dark hair and tried to draw her into a hug. She pushed him away and began shouting at him. Clive Wray appeared to be pleading with her but moved away as people glanced at them.

‘Jailbait,’ said Shap. ‘Not the sort of roving his missus had in mind when she filled his flask.’

Richard said, ‘Could explain why he gave us the false alibi.’

‘Hang on,’ said the boss, ‘if you were having an illicit relationship would you be that upfront about it? It couldn’t be more public.’

It was obvious to Shap, crystal clear. ‘He’s shagging her, she’s dumped him, he can’t take no for an answer. He’s just a saddo with a gymslip fixation.’

The boss pulled a face, like she was not convinced at all, and said, ‘Bring him in for questioning.’

Chapter 8

Janine had made the introductions for the tape and then asked Mr Wray to account for his whereabouts on the day Sammy went missing.

‘I’ve already told you,’ he said, ‘I drove to Hayfield and-’

‘We know you weren’t hill-walking,’ Janine said crisply. ‘At the very least I could charge you with wasting police time.’

‘There’s no-one can vouch for me, that’s all,’ Clive Wray said defensively.

Had the man no conscience? ‘We can prove you were not where you claimed to be,’ Janine said.

‘That’s ridiculous,’ he blustered but she saw the fear in his expression.

Janine indicated that Richard should play the recording. ‘DI Mayne is now playing Mr Wray a CCTV recording, item number AS11.’

Clive Wray stared at the laptop screen and Janine saw the blood drain from his face, saw his shoulders sag.

‘School finals up at Sport City,’ she said.

On the screen the girl was yelling at Clive, he tried to reach her and she moved sharply away. ‘Your child went missing and you lied to the people trying to find him. For what? To cover up some seedy affair? Or was it more than that? What else are you lying about?’

‘She’s my daughter!’ he looked at Janine aghast. ‘My bloody daughter, Phoebe.’ That was the last thing Janine expected though it did answer her doubts as to the public setting for the liaison.

‘How dare you imply… and then you think I hurt Sammy!’

‘You lied to us. You’d better have a very good reason for doing so,’ she said coldly. ‘I’d like to hear it.’

He heaved a sigh then began to talk. ‘When Felicity and I split up, I hoped to still see plenty of Phoebe. That’s why we bought the house, it was near enough for her to come round. But Felicity, my ex, she’s very volatile, needy.’ He shook his head. ‘She made our lives hell: coming to the house, abusive calls, turning up at work, threatening to kill herself. All these grand gestures. It was horrendous. In the end, I promised Claire a clean break. But that didn’t work either. Felicity just wouldn’t let go.’ He paused for a moment, biting his lip, then said, ‘The very day Sammy was born, Felicity took an overdose, Phoebe had to call an ambulance.’

‘When did this all start?’

‘I left Felicity when Claire got pregnant,’ he said. Janine thought of Pete, how it had been the other way round, leaving her when she got pregnant. Except now…

‘So you were seeing Claire while you were still married to Felicity?’

‘Yes,’ he said, jutting his chin forward slightly as if to defend that behaviour but Janine could tell he wasn’t proud of it.

‘How long had you been seeing each other?’

‘Does this matter?’ he said bullishly.

‘That’s for us to decide, not you,’ Janine replied.

‘Almost two years. Then I left but Felicity kept harassing us until Sammy was about six months old.’ His eyes filled with sudden tears and Janine guessed he had remembered afresh why they were here, that his child was missing presumed dead. ‘Things calmed down then and recently, well, I felt bad about Phoebe, I wanted to try and see her. I’d been there for the first eleven years and then, the way Felicity was it made it impossible for me to see her. Felicity poisoned her against me. But now she’s that bit older, I hoped… I thought…’

‘And the argument at the hockey match?’ Richard said.

‘I went to watch her play, tried to talk to her. But she’s still angry. She told me to piss off.’ He gave a shake of the head.

‘Where did you go?’ said Richard.

‘Just drove around, sat in the car.’

‘Around where?’ said Richard.

‘I don’t remember,’ said Clive Wray.

They persisted for a while trying to get more on his movements but he kept repeating he couldn’t recall anything until returning home. True or a fudge?

‘Why did you conceal this from us?’ Janine said. ‘And from the missing persons inquiry?’

‘I didn’t want to upset Claire,’ he replied. ‘With Sammy gone and everything. She’d have hated me trying to see Phoebe, I just felt it was too much. And it didn’t matter.’

‘What matters,’ Janine said through gritted teeth, ‘is that you have wasted my time and resources and my officers’ time while we’ve been investigating your false account. Time that we could have otherwise spent trying to find out who killed a three-year-old child.’

He swallowed. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘Do you have to tell Claire?’

‘No,’ Janine replied, ‘but you do.’

Lies and secrets – the damage they did. Was that really all he’d been lying about?

Janine stood with Richard beside the windows of the incident room watching Clive Wray leave, crossing the tram lines towards Central Library, hunched over against the rain.

‘Still no alibi for the afternoon,’ Richard said.

‘Still no motive,’ said Janine.

‘Maybe he thought he’d made the wrong choice, that the argument with Phoebe brought it home. Perhaps he felt Sammy was an obstacle?’

‘If he wanted to go back to Felicity,’ Janine said, ‘he could have just upped sticks and gone, he wouldn’t need to kill his son. Let’s talk to the girl.’

Felicity Wray’s house reeked of incense. Mobiles and wind charms hung from every available place. Batik throws and Indian cottons threaded with gold and silver thread served as coverings for the furniture and curtains in the living room. But the chilled out vibe had little apparent effect on the woman herself, Janine swiftly realised. Felicity Wray seemed close to hysterical, nervy and melodramatic with a latent hostility that simmered behind her words. She swished about in a maxi dress, her arms adorned with bangles and love-beads around her neck, smoking a small cheroot.

Phoebe, a dark-haired 14 year-old was a typical young teen, a mix of innocence and cynicism. Switching between disaffection and naivety within a few sentences. They were trying to talk to Phoebe, who was perched, arms firmly crossed, on the end of a huge sofa, but Felicity kept interrupting.

‘Clive says he wanted to try and make contact again,’ Janine said.

‘He thought he could just say sorry and make it all better. Like – hello?’ Phoebe was trying for disaffected teenager but Janine sensed a fragility behind the act.

‘That’s why you rowed?’ Janine said.

Phoebe indicated it was.

‘You knew about this argument?’ Janine asked Felicity.

‘I told her,’ Phoebe said.

‘She stopped eating, you know, when he left,’ Felicity tossed her head, her earrings jingled. ‘Starved herse-’

‘Mum!’ Phoebe blushed furiously. At least Pete still saw his kids, Janine thought. How much harder would it have been if he’d abandoned them? She pictured Eleanor, 11 now and the same age as Phoebe was when Clive left. Eleanor would be completely crushed by something like that.

‘It’s the truth,’ Felicity said to her daughter. ‘And your schoolwork suffered, he never thought about that, did he?’

‘Mum, don’t,’ Phoebe muttered.

This was impossible. Janine nodded to Richard signalling with her eyes that he should concentrate on Felicity. Janine moved around the other side of the sofa, putting herself in between mother and daughter.

‘Was it a difficult break up?’ Richard asked Felicity.

‘Had he tried to see you before?’ Janine said to Phoebe.

But Phoebe didn’t reply, she seemed intent on listening to what her mother was telling Richard. ‘He made such a mistake, abandoning us. I think he knows that now. Clive and I, a love that deep – it’s not a bond you can ever break. If it hadn’t have been for the baby-’

‘Mum!’ Phoebe said. Janine saw she was trying to protect her mother.

‘Phoebe?’ Janine said, ‘Your dad, he’d not contacted you before?’

The girl, shook her head rapidly. ‘No. Well, he came round here with Sammy a few weeks ago. Some deranged plan that if we got to know him it’d change everything. Soo not a good idea,’ she said.

Something else Clive Wray had failed to mention. Did he think they were idiots, that this wouldn’t come to light, just like his trip to see Phoebe at the stadium had done?

Felicity was still waxing lyrical. ‘He’d never have left me but for that. He wants us back. He’s just in denial.’

Janine saw a spasm of irritation on the girl’s face as she swivelled round on the sofa arm and said hotly, ‘We’re second best. He picked Claire, he picked Sammy.’ Janine knew the feeling. Pete had picked Tina. How much more painful if a child had been involved then? Janine sensed the loneliness, the rejection that the girl felt. It was all so keen at that age, so cut and dried.

Phoebe jumped to her feet. ‘When Mum was ill, she,’ Phoebe hesitated, flushed, ‘she took an overdose. I had to stay at Dad’s. I was invisible. My mum had nearly died but all they could think about was Sammy. Dad didn’t want me there and she didn’t. They just wanted to live happily ever after-’ her voice was cracking.

‘It must have been hard,’ Janine said.

Phoebe blinked back tears but didn’t say anything.

‘You met Sammy?’ Richard said to Felicity.

She stared at him, Janine could see a smirk twitching at the corners of her mouth. She took a drag on the cheroot. ‘I never wished the child any harm.’

‘Mum-’ Phoebe tried again to stop her talking but Felicity was apparently determined to say her piece, ‘I just wished it hadn’t been born.’ She looked at Janine then Richard. ‘You think that’s a terrible thing to say?’

‘He’s only little,’ Phoebe looked upset. ‘It’s not his fault.’ She sat down heavily. ‘How could anyone do that?’

Felicity moved over and put a hand on Phoebe’s head. ‘I know,’ she murmured. ‘Poor Claire.’ Her tone hollow, disingenuous. She didn’t mean a word of it.

‘I’ve got hockey practice,’ Phoebe announced.

Janine looked at Richard, he’d no objection. They had got what they had come for, for now, corroboration of Clive’s relationship with Phoebe and the context for their meeting. They’d also found someone else who was worth considering, Janine thought, Felicity Wray the wronged ex-wife with an axe to grind.

‘Bunny boiler,’ Richard said as they reached the car outside the house.

‘A credible suspect?’ Janine asked.

‘Certainly got motive, revenge,’ Richard said.

‘Felicity hates Clive for destroying the marriage,’ Janine agreed.

‘But she wants him back,’ Richard said. ‘She blames Sammy for Clive leaving. Maybe seeing the child triggers that rage. She thinks with Sammy out the way, Clive’ll come back to her.’

‘Helluva grand gesture. Mind you, fond of those,’ said Janine. ‘The suicide attempt on the day Claire goes into labour.’ Janine tried to imagine herself doing something like that to queer the pitch for Tina, and failed.

Richard said, ‘Or the girl? Angry, jealous. You saw how she was shielding her mother.’

‘Phoebe does it for Felicity?’ Janine said.

‘Or for herself?’

‘Children who kill – they’re invariably very damaged. I didn’t get that impression, she was upset, maybe confused but nothing extraordinary given the situation.’

‘Living with Felicity can’t have done her much good,’ Richard said. ‘Must have messed her head up.’

Janine considered it. She couldn’t see Phoebe abducting and then killing her half-brother. But Felicity? ‘The witnesses from the park – they say there was a woman there on her own. Could it have been Felicity or Phoebe? Make that a priority tomorrow.’

Chapter 9

He came back.

Claire’s first instinct when she heard Clive’s key in the door was to hide. To run upstairs and climb into the fitted wardrobe, like Sammy used to, or wriggle under their bed.

Instead she forced herself to stay where she was at the kitchen table, which was littered with bits of the kitchen roll she had been shredding. Tearing the sheets into smaller and smaller strips.

Did he know she had told police about his boots? Given them the flyer?

Here he was, back home, so the police must have had some answers to their questions or they’d have kept him longer, wouldn’t they?

He stood in the doorway, almost as if he needed permission to cross the threshold. His face sombre.

She raised her eyes to meet his, a bite of fury piercing the numbness that kept descending on her. His eyes told her nothing.

‘What happened?’ she said.

He cleared his throat, ‘They wanted to know where I was.’ He moved into the room, pulled off his jacket, displacing the air and sending pieces of kitchen roll fluttering on to the floor. He sat opposite her.

‘I’m, erm… Hayfield… I wasn’t at Hayfield.’ He tapped his right thumb and index finger together, nervously.

She waited, unwilling to supply questions, to ease his admission.

‘I should have told you, I know that now.’

He was having an affair! Oh God. What a fool she had been. She should have seen it coming. He’d left Felicity for Claire and now he was leaving Claire for whoever was next in line. While she had been running round the park frantic for her son, dread thickening her blood, Clive had been screwing some woman.

He swallowed, made to speak and failed. Claire picked up some shreds of paper began to roll them in her fingertips into a little ball.

‘It was… I was seeing Phoebe,’ he said.

Phoebe. The other woman is called Phoebe?

‘She was playing in the schools’ hockey tournament at the stadium.’

Claire looked at him, his wretched face. ‘Your Phoebe?’ she said.

‘I know we’d agreed to keep a distance, that with Felicity poisoning her towards us it was the only way but I felt… I thought… Now she’s that bit older.’

She felt a wave of anger crash through her. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

‘Because I’d promised you not to have anything to do with them, because when Sammy was gone it didn’t seem to matter. All that mattered was getting Sammy back. How could I upset you more by-’

‘Upset me? Oh, for pity’s sake, Clive, I was deranged already. I couldn’t have cared less about you and your cosy father-daughter date.’

‘It wasn’t exactly like that,’ he muttered.

‘I don’t care,’ she snapped. ‘What I do care about is that you lied. To me.’ She was on her feet.

‘Of course.’ His eyes fell. ‘Look, I’m sorry I misjudged-’

‘Misjudged!’ Had he really so little idea? ‘I thought, God, I even thought…’ she still couldn’t say it.

‘What? Claire, please?’

‘I thought there could only be one reason someone would lie to the police like that.’ Tension sang in the air and his eyes filled with horror as he grasped what she meant and cried out, ‘No, you can’t possibly-’

‘I did. Thanks to you. I couldn’t trust you any more. Because of that stupid lie.’

‘You knew? But how?’ he said. So the police had not told him what she had discovered.

‘Does it matter?’

‘And you thought I-’ His temper broke then, ‘How dare you?’ he shouted. ‘I love Sammy, I love him every bit as much as you and I would never ever…’ he sputtered to a halt. ‘How could you think that? OK I lied about where I was but to imagine… to jump to that conclusion. That I might-’

‘What else was I supposed to think?’ she screamed. ‘You lied. Sammy was gone. Probably lying dead already in that drain and you couldn’t tell the truth. If I couldn’t trust you to be honest then, what hope is there?’

He didn’t answer.

She could not tolerate being in the same space as him. She walked slowly away, too drained to cry anymore.