Make Believe

Chapter 10

Janine had sent Butchers and Shap to talk to those witnesses who’d seen a woman on her own at the park when Sammy was taken. Richard was updating the incident board with the new details about Clive Wray and his first family and other information from the various lines of inquiry. Janine was in her office catching up on reports from the different teams and trying to plan a strategy for the next twenty-four hours when Millie came in.

‘I’ve just had The Star on. Donny McEvoy’s trying to flog them pictures from the crime scene. Took them with his phone.’

Janine groaned. ‘What a prat,’ she said, ‘they’re not biting?’

‘No. They know the score,’ Millie said.

Richard interrupted them. ‘A witness sighting of a woman hanging outside the Wrays’ on Foley Road on Saturday the nineteenth of April. “Hippie-chick,”’ Richard quoted, ‘“but a bit past it. Frizzy blonde hair.”’

‘Felicity Wray,’ Janine said. ‘Why didn’t this come up in the missing persons inquiry?’

‘The girl who reported it was visiting her father, went home on the Sunday morning, so they missed her on the first door-to-door,’ he said.

‘Let’s see what Mystic Meg has to say for herself?’ she invited him.

‘Phoebe’s not here,’ Felicity Wray said when she answered the door.

‘It’s you we want to talk to,’ Richard told her.

‘Honoured I’m sure,’ she said archly, turning away and leaving them to follow her in.

‘Saturday the nineteenth of April, you were seen at Foley Road, shortly before one pm.’

‘Was I?’ she said with that little smirk.

‘What were you doing there?’ said Richard.

‘If Clive wants to play daddy to Phoebe again then he’ll have to give it one hundred percent, I went to tell him that.’

‘You want him to come back to you?’ Janine said.

‘Yes. I went to tell him. All or nothing. When I think what he’d done. Our lovely girl, he abandoned her, cut her dead. He almost destroyed me. I know what it means to be insane with grief.’

Oh, please, spare me.

‘You knew Clive had been up to see Phoebe playing in the tournament?’

‘Yes, she rang me on her way home – so upset.’

‘And what did Clive say?’ Richard asked.

‘Oh, he wasn’t there, no-one in,’ Felicity said.

‘So you went to the park?’ Janine said. ‘You saw Sammy and Claire.’

Felicity ignored her. She stroked her neck, speaking dreamily. ‘He loves me. That’s what people miss. That connection, the passion-’

Janine interrupted her, ‘They looked happy, Claire and Sammy. You and Phoebe had been happy, you and Phoebe and Clive. Until Sammy came along.’

‘Times like this, people see what really matters,’ Felicity said. ‘Like Clive and I. It’ll bring us closer in the end.’

The self-obsession of the woman. Janine lost patience. ‘Did you go to the park?’ she demanded.

Felicity surveyed her for a moment, one eyebrow raised. ‘You’re holding on to a great deal of anger.’

Janine felt heat in her face.

‘Mrs Wray,’ Richard said in warning.

‘No,’ Felicity said.

‘And after that?’ Janine said.

‘Had a walk, came home.’

‘And Phoebe?’ Richard said.

‘She was here.’

‘What time was that?’ he said.

‘I don’t wear a watch,’ she said.

‘Mrs Wray do you know anything about the abduction of Sammy Wray?’ Janine said curtly.

‘Only what I’ve seen on the news,’ she replied.

‘We may well want to speak to you again,’ Janine said.

‘Well, I won’t leave town, then,’ Felicity Wray said.

Janine left the room before she lost all reason and clocked her one.

‘She’s messing with us,’ she said to Richard once they got into the car. ‘I think if she was involved, she’d tone it down a bit, don’t you?’

‘If she was at the park and wearing that get-up then wouldn’t the witnesses have mentioned it?’ Richard said.

‘You know eyewitnesses – notoriously unreliable. We’ll see what Shap and Butchers have found out,’ Janine said. ‘But we need to get to the bottom of this happy families malarkey and eliminate Looby Loo in there, and Phoebe and Clive Wray or look a lot deeper. Why didn’t Clive tell us he’d taken Sammy round there? Maybe that’s what kick-started this whole bloody mess.’

‘Maybe that’s what he’s afraid of,’ Richard said.

‘Let’s ask him.’

It was a very fine line to tread. Claire and Clive could well be bereaved parents and nothing more. If the Wray household had an air of tension on Janine’s previous visit it was now stretched to breaking point.

Claire wore the same clothes as the previous day. Had she even slept, Janine wondered. Sue, the family liaison officer, looked tired too and when Janine asked her how everyone was, she gave a look of warning.

Clive and Claire Wray were at opposite sides of the room, Claire in the corner of the sofa, gazing at the floor, Clive standing over by the window.

‘We’ve been speaking to Felicity, Mr Wray.’

He stilled and Janine saw Claire look up. ‘Why did you take Sammy to see her?’ Janine said.

Claire Wray gasped, her mouth open with shock.

‘He’s just a little boy,’ Clive Wray said, ‘she acted as if he was the devil incarnate… I just thought if she saw him, got to know him-’

Claire stood up quickly, stumbled a little. ‘You took our son to see that bloody woman – after everything she did to us-’ She stopped abruptly, her frown clearing as if she’d made a discovery. ‘The car, the tyres and the scratches. That was her again, wasn’t it? Not vandals.’ A reprise of the harassment that Felicity had subjected the couple to when Clive first left.

He began to object but Claire raised her voice. ‘You still love her, don’t you? Felicity’s been right all along. You only left her because I was pregnant. You never really loved me. Always Felicity, wasn’t it?’

‘No,’ Clive Wray said.

‘Bloody tragic Felicity and her precious daughter,’ she was shouting, spittle flying from her mouth, her face suffused with red. ‘She couldn’t even let me give birth in peace – had to grab the spotlight, try and kill herself.’

‘Claire, please,’ Janine made an effort to calm the situation.

Claire glared at her then her face changed and she visibly crumpled, ‘My boy,’ she said quietly.

‘She’d never touch him,’ Clive said insistently.

‘How do you know that? How can you possibly know that? She’s off her head and you let her meddle in our lives whenever she likes.’

He turned to Richard, ‘You’ve no reason to think so,’ he appealed.

Richard took a breath. ‘Felicity was seen outside this house, on the nineteenth; she admits she came here.’

‘She killed him,’ Claire said in horror. ‘It’s your fault. That mad bitch came and took him. See what you’ve done,’ she was sobbing, frantic with grief. Then she lunged at her husband, screaming. Richard and Sue moved in to separate the couple. Janine called out to Claire to calm down. Claire was slapping at Clive’s head. He tried to dodge the blows. Sue got hold of Claire’s shoulders and as she eased her back, Richard stepped in between the couple.

At that moment Janine’s phone rang. She stepped back to take the call. She asked them to repeat the information and then she said, ‘Are you sure? There’s no doubt whatsoever?’ She felt the blood drain from her face.

Clive Wray was shouting back now, ‘Felicity is not a killer. And I love you, Claire. You and Sammy and Phoebe. I may have lost one child but I’ll fight damn hard now to be a father to the other one.’

Janine put her phone away. Clive was still talking, Claire shivering as he said. ‘I can’t have Sammy back but I still want a life with you – and I want my daughter in it. That’s how it’ll be. And if you love me, you’ll accept that.’

Richard saw Janine’s expression and saw that something had shifted. Something had happened.

‘What?’ he said.

She took a breath and moved closer. ‘Clive, Claire.’

They looked at her. Claire distraught, dishevelled and Clive breathless.

‘Oh, I am so sorry,’ Janine said. ‘The child, the little boy we found. It’s not Sammy. They’ve got the DNA results back. It’s not Sammy.’

It was as if the air had been sucked from the room. A moment where no-one moved and then all hell let loose. Claire flew at Janine, hitting out at her and crying. Clive began shouting, ‘What do you mean? Where’s Sammy? You said-’

Janine pulled Claire close, so she couldn’t keep thumping her, and held her while she wept.

Chapter 11

Detective Superintendent Louise Hogg never raised her voice, didn’t need to, but the message was crystal clear to Janine in every crisp syllable. The two women were in Hogg’s office and Janine was acutely aware that her team out in the incident room, could see through the glass partition that she was receiving a comprehensive bollocking.

‘So, Sammy Wray is still missing plus you have no idea who the murder victim is. You’ve lost two days following false trails for the murder, two days acting as though the abduction led to it.’

‘We never said it was Sammy Wray,’ Janine pointed out.

‘But you assumed it was, you let that determine your strategy, your actions,’ Louise Hogg said.

‘The same age, sex, colouring, they had the same t-shirt,’ Janine tried to defend herself.

‘The most popular high street range, as I recall. The Chief Constable is waiting to hear from me. He wants to know exactly how we’re helping Sammy’s parents, how we intend to reassure the community and how we’ll protect the force’s reputation. What can I tell him?’ She stared at Janine, displeasure clear in the set of her expression.

Janine cleared her throat, stood up straighter. ‘That no-one is more dedicated to solving this than me and my team. That we will pursue every possible line of inquiry, and that I have no doubts of our eventual success.’

‘All very well, but what we need is a breakthrough. Instead we’ve been stuck down a blind alley for forty-eight hours.’

Louise Hogg gave a curt nod of dismissal and Janine left, feeling awful.

The team were studiously avoiding eye contact with her, pretending to be occupied as she made her way through the incident room to her own office. Would she lose their trust, their support because of this?

‘Tea, boss?’ Lisa spoke up and Janine felt a moment’s gratitude towards the young DC.

‘Ta, no – make it coffee. Then separate all the data on the boards out, everyone else the same with your reports, divide them into those related to the abduction and those relating to the murder. Meeting in an hour-and-a-half, anyone out in the field call them in.’

Murmurs of assent rippled round the room. Perhaps it was too early to say but she didn’t feel any air of resentment. Maybe they were all as surprised as she had been at the shock revelation. And as gutted.

Her preparation wasn’t as thorough as she would have liked for the new briefing, disentangling the evidence and information of the Sammy Wray disappearance from that of the murder was complicated but Janine felt it was more important to give the team some sense of momentum, to reinvigorate them rather than have all the details finessed and neatly presented.

Once everyone was in the room, including Millie, Louise Hogg joined them, no doubt putting in an appearance to indicate she thought Janine required close supervision. Janine felt as though she had been caught out, found wanting. It wasn’t a sensation she liked. Was she losing her touch? Was there anything she could have done differently? Would another SIO have handled things any better? It was a genuine mistake, assuming the body was Sammy Wray, everything had seemed to point that way.

Now she had to hold it together, give a lead, no matter how badly shaken she was by the turn of events.

Two distinct investigation boards had been established. The one on the left read Murder, it held all the details from the crime scene, information on individuals linked to the location: the builders, the Staffords and the Palfreys, other neighbours. The post-mortem summary was there, as were forensics from the scene.

The board on the right was headed Missing Person: Sammy Wray. Sammy’s photo was there, details about the Wrays and Felicity and Phoebe, information from the park inquiry, including the references to the single woman, elderly couple and the bearded man.

Each board now had its own distinct timeline.

Janine began, ‘We have an abduction and we also have the murder of an unknown child. A week last Saturday, three-year-old Sammy Wray was abducted from Withington Park. Two days ago, the body of a child was recovered from Kendal Avenue, a mile away. This child was of similar age and appearance, but he is not Sammy Wray. Sammy Wray is officially a missing person again. Sammy’s been gone eleven days now. We will discuss that case first. Sammy’s father Clive Wray lied to us about his whereabouts and still has no alibi for the time of the abduction. Mr Wray claims he was driving around in his car after an argument with his daughter Phoebe and can’t remember where he was. He also failed to mention that he had taken Sammy to visit his ex-wife Felicity Wray without Claire’s knowledge. A neighbour reports seeing a woman matching Felicity Wray’s description outside Clive’s house on the Saturday afternoon. Felicity Wray denies going to the park but we are trying to establish whether the single woman from eye-witness reports is her. Latest on that?’ Janine looked to Shap and Butchers.

‘Three witnesses, all agree the woman had long hair, two say blonde, one says brown. Age varies between twenty-five and forty,’ Shap said.

‘Could do a line-up – see if people identify Felicity as the single woman at the park?’ Richard suggested.

Janine nodded. ‘Phoebe’s another contender for that. We talk to her, too. Her mother says she was at home but I’m not sure we can take her word for it. Felicity Wray has made no effort to hide her resentment of the missing child or her belief that Clive Wray belongs with her and Phoebe. She has a stronger motive then Clive, so she is at present our key candidate.’

‘Did you search her house?’ Louise Hogg said.

Christ! What if Sammy was there? Been there all along. Alive? Dead? Did they have enough grounds? Louise Hogg obviously thought so. ‘We’ll get a warrant,’ Janine said decisively, ‘bring her in for further questioning as well as the line up. And,’ she took a breath, ‘look into her recent harassment of Clive and Claire – what threats has she been making? Where are we up to with tracing other witnesses?’

‘We’ve found the older couple from the park,’ Lisa said. ‘They were visiting a relative in hospital.’

‘The weirdy beardy man?’ Janine said.

‘Nothing,’ Lisa said.

‘Other actions?’ Janine surveyed the room, inviting contributions. The team needed to be involved, invested in the case not simply told what to do.

‘Revisit the sex offenders, anyone suddenly gone underground and so on,’ said Shap.

Janine nodded.

‘And if you rule out Felicity Wray?’ Louise Hogg said.

‘The cases could still be linked,’ Richard said, ‘someone targeting three-year-olds.’

‘Or there could be no connection. We deal with these as two distinct inquiries,’ Janine said. If a connection did emerge then so be it but until then the investigations would be treated as distinct and discrete.

‘Reconstruction for the abduction set for one pm tomorrow,’ Millie said, ‘and Press Release in hand informing the media of the new situation.’

‘We don’t want scaremongering, hysteria,’ Janine said to Millie, though she felt close to hysteria herself, panic and confusion inside. ‘We need to reassure people.’

‘Damage limitation,’ said Millie, ‘that’s all I can try to do. Journalists are asking the same questions we are: is it a series, is Sammy still alive? If I can’t give them anything they still have front pages to fill, they’ve got their own agenda.’

‘Selling papers,’ Janine said.

‘It’s a huge story,’ Millie explained, ‘doesn’t get much bigger.’

No doubt there would be negative opinions expressed in the media about the conflation of the two inquiries but Janine felt the best way to handle criticism was head on, to be visible rather than hide away. ‘I’ll attend the reconstruction,’ she said.

Janine moved to the other board. ‘Child murder, this is not Sammy Wray, so who is it? We have as you know no recent reports of other missing children of that age in the country. One case in London, three-year-old boy, is a suspected kidnapping as a result of a custody battle but that child was only taken four days ago. Our victim has been dead for longer. Interpol have identified several missing children. So far the only one of particular interest, of the right age and gender and similar physical description is Tomas Rink.’ She indicated the photograph of the child. ‘We have requested a DNA comparison.’ If it was Tomas Rink, how had he ended up in a sewer in South Manchester? Trafficking was a possible explanation, there was an abhorrent and lucrative market in selling children to paedophiles and pornographers, though their child had not borne any obvious signs of sexual abuse. ‘With no ID for the child, we concentrate on the site.’

She heard a sharp intake of breath and wheeled round.

‘Boss,’ Shap pointed to the television, on but muted, in the corner, ‘McEvoy.’

Janine saw the builder expounding to some news camera.

‘I thought we’d sorted this,’ she said to Millie.

‘So did I,’ Millie said sharply.

‘What’s he saying? Turn it up,’ said Janine.

Lisa hit the remote and McEvoy’s Scouse twang, filled the room. ‘I’ve seen some things in my time but that… wrapped in a sheet but you could tell it was a body. He’d been there a while and I’d been working just a few yards away. Beggars belief.’

‘Turn it off,’ Janine snapped. ‘I want him gagged. Talk to him,’ she said to Shap. It was crucial to stop Donny McEvoy from speaking to the press, his meddling could seriously hamper the investigation not only because it might directly influence public attention in the wrong way but even more importantly it could be held up as prejudicial if the case made it to trial ‘Why’s he so keen?’ she said.

‘Most exciting thing that’s ever happened to him,’ Richard said.

‘Or did he have a hand in it? Who else apart from the builders had easy access to the site?’

‘The property developer is on a lounger in Mexico,’ said Lisa.

‘Verify that,’ Janine said.

‘Neighbours,’ said Butchers, ‘the Palfreys and the Staffords. Staffords couldn’t get rid of us quick enough.’

‘Wouldn’t be that hard for anyone to access,’ Richard pointed out. ‘No gates on the drive, might still be just a matter of convenience.’

‘Well, we eliminate them all before we take this any wider. Record checks, background checks. Be thorough. We have ruled out the house at 16 Kendal Avenue as the primary crime scene?’

‘That’s right,' Richard said, ‘no evidence the child had ever been inside the property.’

So many questions. Who was the child? Where had he come from? Where had he been killed? ‘We’re starting afresh with this,’ she said. ‘Look at everything as though it’s completely new to you. We’ve two crimes here. Two boys. We need to find one of them. And identify the other.’

Chapter 12

Janine was gathering papers together in preparation for the interview with Felicity. Richard came in and handed her a card to sign, for Butcher’s engagement.

‘If that child was there when we went round…’ Janine looked at him.

Richard shook his head. ‘No word yet.’

She couldn’t think of anything more original than ‘Good Luck’ to put in the card, she scrawled her name beneath it.

‘Butchers has put his ‘do’ back an hour. You going?’ Richard said.

‘Doubt it. Need to get my head round this lot. You?’ She passed him the card.

‘Show my face,’ Richard said.

‘Taking Millie?’

‘Might be,’ he said.

Why did he have to be so bloody coy about it? ‘Only asking,’ she retorted, sounding more defensive than she’d intended.

Half-an-hour later he was back, ‘Felicity Wray’s in interview room one.’

‘Thanks,’ said Janine getting to her feet.

‘We got the data of the texts that she sent Clive Wray,’ Richard said, ‘nasty stuff.’

‘He didn’t delete them?’

‘Maybe he wanted some proof in case anything weird happened,’ he said.

‘Like child abduction?’ she said.

By the time Janine started the interview proper after making introductions for the tape, Mrs Wray had already made her displeasure clear, sighing and shuffling in her seat, twirling her hair around her fingers. Even yawning.

‘You’ve been up to your old tricks, Mrs Wray. Attacking property, threatening Clive and his family,’ Janine said.

‘Second family,’ Felicity said.

‘We’ve read some of the messages you sent him,’ Janine picked up the transcript and quoted, ‘“Your life won’t be worth living. Your slut and her brat can rot in hell.” This all started up again after he brought Sammy round.’

‘What did he expect? Rubbing my face in it. He knew I resented that child,’ she said.

‘Resented, past tense?’ Janine said.

‘You think he’s still alive?’ Felicity said.

‘Do you know any different?’ Janine said seriously. It was hard to believe the woman was still being so cavalier.

‘She put you up to this, didn’t she? Trying to blame me. She was the one that lost the child. She took Clive and now she’s still persecuting me. She knows where Clive really belongs, that’s why.’

Janine refused to be drawn.

‘You are aware that we are searching your property?’ Janine said, ‘Is there anything you’d like to tell me about, anything we might find?’

Felicity Wray gave a little shake of her head, ‘Only that it seems to be a dreadful waste of police resources.’

Felicity Wray maintained her big show of finding the questions tiresome but Janine felt she enjoyed the attention, a chance to perform as the wronged woman, the victim in her very own soap opera.

Was she just a narcissist, interested only in her own tribulations, indifferent to the fate of a small child or the hell that the supposed love of her life was going through? Or was this self obsession of a much darker nature? Jealousy led people to commit terrible acts.

‘I’d like to ask you again, did you enter Withington Park on the nineteenth of April?’

‘No.’

‘Did you take Sammy?’

Felicity Wray rolled her eyes. ‘No.’

‘Do you know where he is?’

‘No.’

‘We are entering your details into a video identification parade to see if any witnesses at the park remember seeing you there.’

Felicity Wray shrugged. ‘Knock yourselves out,’ she said.

‘What do you think?’ Richard asked her as they waited in her office while the video parade was carried out.

Janine raised her hands, palms up. Search me. Nothing untoward had been found at Felicity Wray’s house, so far. A more detailed examination of the premises was still in progress.

‘She’s cracked enough,’ Richard said.

‘Let’s see what we get out of the line-up,’ Janine said.

Millie Saunders came through the incident room, and knocked on Janine’s door.

‘Yes,’ Janine said.

There was a look of exasperation on Millie’s face. ‘My phone’s in meltdown. Local press have got wind of an arrest. Half of them are camped outside. Is it true you’re questioning the ex-wife for the abduction?’

‘We are,’ said Janine.

‘Thanks for the update,’ Millie said sarcastically.

‘We have been rather busy,’ Janine said.

‘I should be told of all major developments,’ Millie said. ‘This is a major development?’

At exactly the same moment as Janine answered no, Richard said yes.

Millie shook her head in disgust, gave a humourless laugh. ‘Final answer?’ she said.

‘There’s a lot of speculation flying about at this stage,’ Janine said.

‘Well, unless you give me something to work with, that speculation is going to be all over the airwaves as well. Or shall I put the calls through to the incident room? To the horse’s mouth?’

For one delirious moment Janine considered telling Millie Saunders to bugger off. Instead she took a steadying breath and then said coolly to Richard, ‘Please brief Millie, make sure she’s up to speed on all developments. Now, and for the duration of the investigation.’ She held her hand out towards the door, inviting them to leave. ‘And Richard – no names to be released yet.’

You think he’s still alive? Felicity Wray had taunted her. It wasn’t likely. Though it depended on who had taken him, or more specifically what for. Janine’s gut instincts told her that while Felicity Wray had some motive to want the child out of the picture, she was an unlikely kidnapper. The way she made no attempt to hide her dislike of Clive’s new family, her jealousy, also suggested her innocence. If she actually had taken Sammy surely she would be more circumspect and not go all out to antagonise the police. However if a lone paedophile was behind the abduction he might well have got rid of Sammy Wray within the first few hours after abusing him. Rape and murder. A ring of paedophiles would trade the boy as long as they could get away with it, keeping him enslaved for years. It didn’t bear thinking about – except for the fact that it was Janine’s job to think about such horrors, to face them squarely and calmly, analytically, to examine the evidence and try and reach the truth. Her colleagues at CEOPS who concentrated solely on child exploitation and protection had been alerted.

Janine’s phone went – Lisa at Felicity Wray’s house. They had not found Sammy, nor any trace of him and there was no sign of any attempts to conceal a body, like recent digging in the garden. Thank God. If they had found the child there Janine would never have been able to forgive herself. And neither would Louise Hogg.

Chapter 13

Butchers had tolerated the stupid balloons and the noose above his desk as best he could but when he saw Lisa handing cash over to Shap he couldn’t let it lie.

‘Are you doing a whip-round?’ Butchers hissed.

‘Who pissed on your chips?’ Shap said.

‘I told you I didn’t want any fuss. It’s just a small do,’ Butchers said.

‘Don’t know what you’re on about, mate. I’m collecting for the lottery. We’re in a syndicate.’ Shap was a weaselly bastard, lie his way out of any situation and Butchers didn’t know whether to believe him.

Butchers returned to his desk. He had been speaking to the community policing team who covered the Kendal Avenue area, checking out the neighbours and any known criminals. He was particularly interested to learn that Luke Stafford was already on their radar. Anti-social behaviour, police had been called to the school twice to deal with violent incidents.

‘Luke Stafford – bit of a bad ‘un,’ Butchers told Shap. Then he compared his notes and saw something else. ‘And, he goes to All Saints – same school as Phoebe Wray.’ Fluke or something more sinister? Butchers thought about it: Phoebe Wray is half-sister to the missing boy and Luke Stafford lives next door to where the dead child was found. OK, the boss had stressed the importance of keeping the two inquiries separate but a coincidence like that at the very least needed explaining.

The office phone rang and Shap answered it, listened then said, ‘Kim, Tony Shap here – your fiancé’s better half.’

Butchers shook his head, raised a warning hand – I’m not here. He felt sick. He’d blanked three calls from Kim already. It was busy and he was up to his eyes. If she was mithering him like this now, then just how much worse would it be once they were hitched?

‘Just missed him,’ Shap said smoothly. ‘All systems go for tonight?’ He listened and laughed. ‘Can’t wait.’

Shap hung up and looked to Butchers waiting for an explanation. He could whistle for it. Butchers shrugged, easier than trying to justify his behaviour. Wasn’t sure what was going on himself, anyway. No time to be bothering about all that now, he needed to do a bit more digging with Luke Stafford.

Butchers headed for the door then stopped. ‘Maybe we should postpone the party – everyone’s flat out.’

‘No way, mate,’ said Shap, ‘after the last few days we need a chance to get totally hammered.’

Which was not what Butchers wanted to hear.

The Staffords’ place was still a tip. Didn’t look like anyone had picked up anything since Butchers’ last visit. Ken Stafford simmered with resentment, if Luke Stafford had a temper, lost control and got into bother, Butchers could tell where he’d got that from. While the father sat in an armchair, sitting forward rather than relaxing back, the lad stood leaning against the door jamb. Butchers had invited him to sit down but the kid had replied, ‘Rather stand.’

Butchers started with the Saturday of the abduction. They had already answered questions about that day, he’d lull them into thinking he was just going over the same old ground then chuck something new into the mix. See what it threw up.

‘A week last Saturday you were working?’ Butchers said to Ken Stafford.

‘I told you that,’ he said.

‘You work nights, so Luke’s here on his own?’

‘That’s right,’ Ken Stafford said.

‘Then what?’

‘We’ve been over this,’ he said.

‘I’d like to go over it again,’ Butchers said stolidly.

Ken Stafford shifted in his seat, ‘Shift finishes at four am,’ he said tightly, ‘I get in at half past. Slept till five-ish that evening.’

‘Long sleep.’

‘I needed it,’ Ken Stafford retorted. ‘I’d only just got off when the bloody builders roll up.’

‘You remember this, Luke?’ said Butchers

‘I was asleep but he told me, later. You never shut up about it,’ he complained to his father.

‘What time did you get up?’ Butchers asked the lad.

‘Dunno,’ he gave a quick shrug.

‘Rest of that day. Where were you?’

‘Here, probably,’ Luke said.

‘You can’t remember?’

‘Here.’

‘And you didn’t see Luke for the best part of twenty odd hours?’ Butchers said to Ken Stafford.

‘That’s right,’ he said.

‘You’ve been in a bit of bother,’ Butchers said to Luke, ‘assault, anti-social behaviour. Make you feel big, does it, knocking people about?’

Luke set his jaw, sullen, didn’t answer.

Ken Stafford glanced sharply at Butchers.

‘You get a buzz out of hurting people?’ Butchers said.

‘Pack it in,’ Ken Stafford threatened Butchers, ‘don’t talk to him like that.’

‘You know Phoebe Wray well?’ Butchers asked Luke.

Surprise flashed across the boy’s face and he blushed. ‘We’re mates,’ he stammered, ‘that’s all.’

‘Mates,’ Butchers echoed. ‘She said anything to you about her half-brother’s abduction?’

‘No,’ Luke said.

‘Nothing? Odd that.’

‘Said you lot went round there.’

‘That all?’ Butchers said.

‘Yeah,’ he said. But Butchers had the sense there was more, that Luke was hiding something. He turned to Ken Stafford, ‘Have you any objection to me taking a look round?’

‘Yes, I have,’ Ken Stafford said baldly.

‘I could get a warrant,’ Butchers said.

‘You best do that, then.’

‘We normally expect a degree of co-operation in a case involving a child.’

‘You get a warrant and we’ll co-operate,’ the man said. ‘And don’t come back without one.’

Charm personified.

Donny McEvoy was having a tea break when Shap caught up with him, mug balanced on a pile of breeze block, rolling tobacco on his knee. ‘Mr McEvoy?’

He looked up eagerly, ‘You from the papers?’ McEvoy’s eyes gleamed, the bloke was practically slavering.

Shap flashed his warrant card. McEvoy didn’t look quite so keen then.

‘My boss,’ Shap said, ‘she’s not very happy. You shooting your mouth off. That could compromise our investigation.’

‘I’m only giving my side of the story,’ McEvoy protested.

‘Not any more, you’re not.’ Shap lit a fag of his own.

‘What about free speech?’ McEvoy bleated.

‘It isn’t free if it costs us the case,’ Shap told him. ‘Get it? Now – dates, places, times. I need to go over it all with you again.’

‘Fine,’ he said. ‘It’s all in here,’ he tapped at his head. ‘I can see it, that little bundle. It was horrific…’

‘Back up a-ways,’ Shap interrupted. He got out his phone to record McEvoy’s answers. ‘Let’s start at the beginning, how long had you been working at Kendal Avenue?’

Butchers called Lisa who was at Felicity Wray’s to check that the search was still ongoing. It was Phoebe’s bedroom he was most interested in and when he walked into it, he could see it looked promising. The posters on the wall were the stuff of nightmares: people in clown masks looking far from funny, blood and gore, vampires and images of war, a band all dressed in skeleton suits. One slogan read, Death is Freedom.

He scanned the bookshelves, and then he saw the title: Children Who Kill by Carol Anne Davis. He grabbed it and opened the cover. A name written inside, Luke Stafford.

‘Look at this,’ he said to Lisa, ‘Luke Stafford has lent her a book on child murders.’

Lisa raised her eyebrows. ‘And everyone says kids don’t read anymore,’ she joked.

Butchers placed the book in a sealed evidence bag. He hadn’t pieced it all together yet but there was something here, he could feel it. Two teenagers going off the rails, egging each other on. Impressionable at that age, risk takers, no sense of consequences. Butchers felt a kick of excitement; he was onto them, he was going to hunt them down and bring them in. Not exactly sure who’d done what yet. But both Luke Stafford and Phoebe Wray looked guilty as sin.

Chapter 14

Claire’s mind was on a loop, it’s not Sammy, it’s not Sammy, it’s not Sammy. She found the concept impossible to grasp. The previous forty-eight hours she had been doing her hardest to accept the awful truth; to accept the image of her little boy in a drainage tunnel, his small body lifeless, so terribly damaged they would not let her see him.

She had been carrying that in her heart and now they were telling her that poor child was not her child. They didn’t know who he was but they were absolutely certain he was not Sammy.

It was a violent wrench, them snatching away the truth, the certainty, cruel finality, almost as violent as Sammy being stolen in the first place and Claire was reeling from it, unable to reconfigure the features of the dead child into those of a stranger. It’s not Sammy.

The words didn’t sink in. Her body, every fibre from the hair on her skin to the marrow in her bones had been devastated by the shock of Sammy’s death, fighting to absorb it. And now to have it reversed, to have this macabre resurrection was incomprehensible. It was so hard to unthink it, unfeel it.

Perhaps he was dead anyway. Was this her mother’s instinct recognizing the fundamental truth? That even though this dead child was not her boy, her boy was still a dead child.

She was sick and dizzy with it all. And angry. Angry that suddenly she was expected to readjust. For a third time.

First to be bereft, full of fear and shame, mad with desperation that her boy had gone, disappeared. Magic, Mummy, Izzy-whizzy.

Then to be crushed, sobered, broken by the notification of death.

And now, a third yank of the rope, fresh torture.

It hurt when she breathed, her lungs, her ribs were sore.

How dare they, the police, fate, whoever.

The logical part of her brain told her this might yet be a good thing. Sammy might be alive if he’s not in that sewer. But her instincts felt heavy, swollen, leaden. Then there were flashes of piercing guilt when she thought that her reprieve meant that somewhere else another mother had lost her son.

Why hope, she thought, so there can be yet another fall? Another blow to the skull, another attack on her heart.

Where was he? Was he frightened? He had a way of freezing, shrinking when he was scared. He wouldn’t scream and run, sometimes he didn’t even cry, just stilled, frozen like a wary animal.

There were people on the television, voices, news headlines, the police detective – DCI Lewis. Clive turned up the sound.

Claire looked at it stupidly for a second then felt her gorge rise. Sickening. That’s what it was. Sickening and brutal and pitiless and she wanted it to stop. All of it. Forever.

Chapter 15

Janine was in her office trying to work. Richard and Millie were just outside, Richard looking over the new press release to accompany the reconstruction of Sammy Wray’s abduction.

‘Great,’ Richard said.

‘Needs sensitive handling,’ Millie said.

‘You’re good at that,’ Richard said with a throaty chuckle.

Oh, please, Janine prayed, enough. It was hard to concentrate without this going on. She got up to close her door and saw Butchers and Lisa arriving back. ‘Boss,’ Butchers called. Janine went to see what he was so excited about.

‘Luke Stafford and Phoebe Wray are mates,’ he said. ‘He’s a history of violent behaviour and he lives next door to the murder scene. She’s got reason to want rid of Sammy Wray.’

‘What are you saying?’ Richard asked before Janine had chance.

‘It’s a pact,’ Butchers answered, ‘she does Sammy – he does another child.’

‘Oh, come on,’ Janine said.

‘Or maybe he was going after Sammy, to prove himself to her, like, but he got the wrong child,’ said Butchers.

‘They’re kids,’ Janine said incredulously. Murders of children by children were relatively rare. Janine had never worked one in all her years as a detective. When it did happen it sent shock waves through the nation; was held up as evidence of the collapse of society. The names of child murderers lived on for decades in popular imagination: Mary Bell, Jon Venables, Robert Thompson. And as for a pact between a teenage girl and boy, to abduct her half-brother and also to kill another child, it was ridiculous. Butchers was living in some fantasy land.

‘You should see her room.’ Butchers wasn’t giving up, ‘Chiller DVDs, stuff about death and pain. Sick stuff. Look,’ he waved a book at her, ‘Children Who Kill.’

‘I can read,’ Janine told him.

‘In her room, but it belongs to Luke Stafford. And the stuff all over the walls-’

‘She’s fourteen,’ Janine slapped him down. ‘Leonard Cohen, purple ink, crap poetry. I know you sprang fully formed Butchers but the rest of us have been there, got the T-shirts.’

He wasn’t deflected. ‘The Staffords wouldn’t let us look round. They’re acting guilty.’

Janine looked to the others for reactions. Were they buying this? Richard shook his head.

But Shap played devil’s advocate. ‘They’re being obstructive. And they are right on the doorstep, plenty of chance to nip out and dump the body.’

‘We should interview both Phoebe and Luke,’ Butchers said.

Janine considered it for a moment, she didn’t agree. ‘I know I’m desperate but I’m not that desperate. I’m not pulling juveniles in on the basis of a freaky DVD collection and the fact that they’re in spitting distance. Can you put Luke at the park, or Phoebe?’ she asked him.

Lisa’s phone rang and she answered it.

‘Not yet, but I can try,’ Butchers glanced at his watch.

‘Thought you were otherwise engaged this evening,’ Janine said.

Butchers shrugged. Didn’t seem particularly buoyant about it.

‘Giving her a preview,’ Janine said, ‘life with a cop?’

Butchers didn’t respond, just got a sick look on his face, embarrassed.

‘You need a whole lot more than what you’re giving me to question either of them,’ Janine said.

‘Boss,’ Lisa held up her phone, she looked fed up. She sighed before she spoke, ‘None of the witnesses picked Felicity Wray out of the line-up.’

‘Shit,’ Janine said succinctly.

They were getting nowhere fast. Nothing at the house, barring Butchers’ booty, and now no eyewitness testimony. Janine raised her eyes heavenward and sighed, turned to Lisa and caught sight of Louise Hogg watching from her office. Her old boss Hackett used to do that: snoop and hover, it drove Janine mad. She hoped it wasn’t going to become a habit of Hogg’s too.

‘Release her,’ Janine told Lisa. She felt a wave of frustration, almost wanted to weep. The low point of a bloody lousy day. It felt like they were lurching from one false lead to another. First thinking the child was Sammy and now hitting a brick wall with their most likely suspect. When would their luck change? Would it change? Was this going to be one of those cases that ran aground, the sort of case that broke careers, broke people?

She went back to her office and slammed the door, not caring who heard.

On her way home Janine called to see Claire and Clive Wray. Claire looked empty, her greeting dulled, indifferent. And Clive’s reaction on seeing Janine was almost a snarl. The man hummed with suppressed anger. Janine couldn’t blame him, even though his duplicity had caused the team problems. She simply could not imagine what it must be like to have believed your child dead and then be informed there’d been a cockup and he was still missing.

‘As Sue has told you we’ve reinstated the missing persons investigation,’ Janine said. ‘I also wanted to let you know that we have questioned Felicity and released her-’

‘You’ve let her go,’ he said quickly.

‘We are satisfied that there is no evidence to show she had any involvement.’

‘You see,’ Clive turned to Claire, ‘I told you.’

Claire stared at her husband and gave a short, derisive laugh.

‘The reconstruction is timed for one o’clock tomorrow,’ Janine said.

‘That’s it?’ Clive Wray demanded, his eyes hot with rage. ‘We go through it all for the cameras, so they can plaster it across the news-’

Janine cut him off, ‘Yes, that’s exactly what we want.’ They needed to keep the couple on side, to try and redeem the trust in the police that had been compromised by the mistaken assumptions that Janine and her team had made. The same went for the wider community. If the Wrays made any official complaints or criticised the police to the media the damage would spread.

Momentarily Janine wondered if she should step down, sacrifice herself to try and contain any backlash. Career suicide. But she was not a quitter. She’d be better trying to make things good instead of giving up. ‘The right sort of publicity brings us vital information,’ she said. ‘There are still people we haven’t managed to talk to. I’m hoping they’ll come forward. But we don’t need you to be there, we don’t want to make this any harder-’

‘Oh, we’ll be there,’ Clive Wray vowed, ‘you can count on that.’

Claire Wray began to speak, not looking at Janine but staring unseeing at the window opposite. ‘When you told us that you’d found him, when we believed he was dead, it was so… raw and dark. I couldn’t breathe,’ her voice shook, ‘but this – hour after hour wondering – this is worse.’

‘I am so sorry,’ Janine said. She knew from other cases that the hardest thing for families was often the not knowing, the limbo they were thrust into when people disappeared or when foul play was suspected but no body recovered. Even not knowing how someone had died could haunt those left behind.

‘I don’t know what’s happening to him,’ Claire Wray said. ‘I watch the clock move, I count his hours. But I’m not there, I should be there.’ She began to cry, the tears falling down her cheeks, arms folded across her stomach as she rocked forwards and backwards.

It was Sue who went to comfort her as Clive Wray stood, his fists balled and his face set and Janine forced herself to wait until Claire had stopped weeping to take her leave.

Chapter 16

The newspaper headline that greeted Janine when she got home did not help. Dead Boy Not Sammy. Wray Family Agony. She threw it across the room then retrieved it. She had to read what they were saying about her, about the investigation, swallow it all, every acidic line and barbed reference.

Tom had been playing up, trying to provoke Eleanor into a fight by calling her names, ‘bum face’ and ‘snot features’ among them, snatching more than his share of the apple pie and then refusing to do his homework. Exasperated, Janine had first warned him then banned him from any video games that evening. When he carried on being disruptive she sent him upstairs to cool down for half an hour.

She was on her own in the living room, the telly on, working, when he came back down. She closed her laptop as he wandered into the room.

‘Come here,’ she said and patted the sofa next to her.

He slumped down and grabbed one of Eleanor’s toys, the rag doll which, with a flick of the material, could be changed from Little Red Hiding Hood to Granny to the Wolf.

‘You OK?’ she asked him.

He swung the doll between his hands. ‘I don’t want Dad to have a stupid baby,’ he said.

Me neither.

‘Dad will still love you, just the same,’ she said, ‘like when we had Charlotte. Love doesn’t run out – it just stretches.’

‘Like an elastic band?’ Tom said. He flipped the doll over, bared his teeth at the wolf face.

‘Sort of,’ Janine said.

‘Not for grown-ups, it doesn’t,’ Tom said, ‘like if you get a new wife or a new husband.’

‘Ah, no – not then, really. Dad might need a bigger car, though. That won’t stretch.’

‘Whoa!’ Tom said, excited at the prospect.

‘And you might like the baby when you get to know it.’

‘I won’t,’ he said solemnly, ‘I know I won’t.’ He yawned.

‘Bedtime,’ she told him.

It was after ten when she admitted to herself that she wasn’t going to get any more done tonight. She’d been staring at the pictures on her laptop for long enough. Claire Wray and Sammy. But she was too tense to go to bed. She was fed up with Pete and strung out about the investigation. And life, even with four kids to cope with, was very lonely sometimes. What she needed was some distraction. A bit of R and R. Then she had an idea. She rang Pete and asked him to come over: something had come up at work.

She went to get changed.

His face when he set eyes on her, in her party gear, was a picture.

‘I thought you said work,’ he objected.

‘Work related,’ Janine smiled. ‘Tina OK?’ she said, giving him a chance to tell her about the baby.

‘What? Yeah… fine.’

Coward. Why couldn’t he just have the guts to be straight with her?

The taxi pulled up then and sounded its horn and she could make a smooth exit without saying something nasty that she’d regret. And without giving him chance to argue the toss about her going out and leaving him to babysit under false pretences.

Good. Be good for the troops as well, she thought en route. A bit of solidarity when all eyes are upon us and people are muttering about competence and leadership and judgement.

How had it come to this? Butchers thought. It was a nightmare. The function room was half empty, a disco blaring out. His mates from the job clustered around the bar, even the Detective Super was here and the boss had just made her appearance. Kim and her gang were ensconced in a corner already totally canned and cackling like demons.

‘Next round’s on me,’ the boss said to them all, then told the bar tender, ‘I’ll have a double G & T. See what this lot want – and your own.’

Shap nudged Butchers and nodded towards Kim, ‘You want to get her name down for Wife Swap, mate,’ he said, ‘she’d be perfect.’

‘Piss off,’ Butchers told him though he had to admit Kim looked bigger, brassier than he remembered. But their brief courtship had been conducted through a haze of booze, tequila slammers and jagerbombs. The details were hazy.

‘So point her out then,’ the boss said.

‘The one in pink,’ Butchers could feel a blush spread through his face.

‘Nice,’ the boss said. Though it wasn’t a word Butchers would have picked.

Detective Superintendent Hogg raised her glass to him. ‘Congratulations, Ian.’

‘You not speaking then, you and your betrothed?’ Shap back on his case, ‘Had a tiff already?’

‘No,’ Butchers said. And then of course he had to go over there and say hello to prove it. What was he meant to do anyway, at a do like this? Sit with Kim or stay with his own guests? Crossing the dance floor as, I Don’t Feel Like Dancing, by the Scissor Sisters rang out, the phrase dead man walking came to mind.

The lasses were gossiping away as he drew closer, people leaning in to catch the dirt and then throwing their heads back in peals of laughter.

‘All right?’ Butchers nodded to Kim, to the group, as he reached the table and they all cracked up, howling as though he’d delivered a punch line. Feeling a complete twat Butchers wandered back to the bar, a sickly grin on his face and a feeling of dread heavy on his shoulders.

Janine had got very merry, very quickly and was trying to talk to Richard and Millie above the noise of the bride-to-be and mates belting out a karaoke version of I Will Survive. ‘Millie,’ Janine said, ‘we had a tortoise called Millie when I was a kid. Is it short for something? Millicent?’

‘Emily, actually,’ Millie said and there was a cool tone in her voice.

Just being sociable, Janine thought, no need to take umbrage. ‘You don’t use Emily for work. Don’t you think it’d be a bit more-’

Richard broke in, ‘Same again? You do the honours,’ he said to Millie.

‘Thanks,’ Janine passed her glass over.

‘I think you’ve had enough,’ Richard said in her ear. Bloody cheek.

‘Piss off,’ Janine told him.

‘More what?’ Millie said to Janine.

What had they been talking about? Janine had lost track, ‘Sorry?’

Millie rolled her eyes.

‘So, how long have you two been an item?’ Janine tried again. ‘He acts like it’s a trade secret,’ she said to Millie, ‘not a married woman, are you?’

‘God, no,’ Millie said rudely. ‘Are you?’ Before Janine could respond she’d waltzed off to the bar.

Richard glared at Janine.

‘What?’ she said.

‘Stop stirring it,’ he said.

‘I’m not,’ Janine said.

‘Maybe you should call it a night, before you make a fool of yourself,’ he said. And he left her there and went after Millie. Janine’s cheeks burned, she felt hurt and then angry and then decided to have another drink and sod the lot of them.

Butchers looked pigsick, Shap noticed. His intended was strutting her stuff with her pals and some lads from uniform, Kim’s cleavage on full show.

‘You want to nip that in the bud, sharpish,’ Shap said nodding at the woman.

Butchers shrugged, ‘ Not bothered.’

‘Not bothered? Her flashing her heirlooms at all comers.’

Another shrug.

‘So why did you pop the question?’ Shap said, ‘Were you pissed?’

‘I don’t remember. It were news to me. Bad news,’ Butchers said.

‘You went ahead and stumped up for the ring, though,’ Shap said.

Butchers grimaced.

‘You tight git,’ Shap said. ‘You made her buy her own ring? You are kidding me.’

‘Just till my salary comes through,’ Butchers said, then he added, ‘What’m I gonna do?’ He reddened, looked ever more awkward, scratched at the back of his neck.

‘Leave it to me, mate. I’ll have a word,’ Shap said.

‘Tony,’ Butchers protested but it was half-hearted.

‘It’s sorted. Trust me,’ Shap said.

Kim’s transformation was instantaneous. From gaudy good-time girl to mouthy harridan as soon as she cottoned on to what Shap was saying, ‘Butchers – Ian – he’s made a bit of a mistake. When he proposed, it was a bit of a joke, yeah, joke that got out of hand. He wants out. No point in ruining both your lives, eh?’

Eyes glinting, mouth set, Kim cursed like a sailor and scanned the room. Soon as she found Butchers she launched herself in his direction. Her friends, confused but sensing some excitement, followed in her wake.

Shap watched as Kim laid into Butchers with her handbag, smacking him about the head and damning him to hell and back. Assaulting a police officer was an offence under any other circumstances but given the situation who could blame her? Shap didn’t reckon anyone was about to slap her in handcuffs.

Over by the bar the boss looked like she was still on a roll. She had been flashing the cash and buying them all drinks and packing a fair few away herself. Now she was flinging her arms around and Detective Superintendent Hogg was concentrating on her rather than the Butchers bust up. Then at that precise moment Hogg looked over to the dance floor and an expression of disgust and resignation rolled across her face. Lady Muck. That’s how Shap thought of her and here she was seeing the plebs at play and not enjoying it one little bit. Shap hadn’t liked the way Hogg dealt with the boss about the confusion in the identity of the dead child. A genuine mistake that, they’d all expected it to be Sammy Wray, yet Lady Muck behaved as though the boss had done something really brainless. Had given her a right bollocking. Never raised her voice but you could tell from the body language.

Kim had drawn blood, a cut visible on Butchers’ face and her friends were getting nowhere fast trying to pull her off, so Shap reckoned he’d better lend a hand before anyone else got hurt.

‘I never took you for a party animal,’ Louise Hogg said.

‘Live it large, Louise, that’s what I say. Show ‘em we’re human,’ Janine said.

‘The team respect you. That’s hard to win but easily lost. You’re never really off duty.’ She got hold of Janine’s glass, edged it away.

‘That’s right,’ Janine said, ‘you can be all mates together, nice and chummy and next morning you’re in the office giving someone a bollocking.’ Like someone not a million miles away. Janine reached over for her drink and took a swig. She’d just finish this one, wouldn’t do any harm.

‘You have to set the tone, lead by example,’ Louise Hogg said carefully, ‘it can be tricky, knowing where to draw the line. And a case like this – it’s hard for everyone involved.’

‘You can say that again. We’re all working our balls off and getting nowhere. I’m telling the parents of a missing three-year-old that I’ve still no news and it makes me wonder if maybe I’m doing something wrong. Maybe I can’t hack it anymore. Am I just in the job because it’s all I’ve ever done? And if I feel like this how am I going to keep up morale for that lot?’

Janine looked across to see the big lass in pink flouncing off, Butchers mopping at his face with a handkerchief. Didn’t look like a match made in heaven. Her thoughts lit on Clive and Claire then Clive and Felicity, the way their marriage had soured and died, then on Pete. No, she admonished herself, I’m here for a good time and a good time is damn well what I’m going to have.