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  Frankie sighed.

  Challenging him while they were on duty hadn’t been very diplomatic. Stone would hardly open up – let alone confess all under someone else’s roof – but there was something wrong, Frankie was sure of it. Over the years, she’d learned to trust her instincts. She’d get it out of him eventually. Until then she’d take up the slack.

  She let it go . . .

  For now.

  6

  Alex was supposed to go for a lie-down. She was exhausted after all the travelling. The claustrophobia of being thirty thousand feet in the air in a tin tube, followed by her detention at the airport, had been replaced by a new fear. Tim had offered to call Kat. Alex wouldn’t let him. Her sister would be on the next train north and wouldn’t take no for an answer. Her inability to organise her life had triggered the current situation.

  Alex couldn’t bear to see her . . .

  Not now . . .

  Maybe never.

  She’d had a belly full of her selfishness. She couldn’t listen to her whining a moment longer: Please, I need you . . . I’ve already booked it. I know I should’ve asked first. I thought you’d be thrilled. Come with me, Ali . . . It’ll be good for you, good for both of us. What can possibly happen in a week?

  Alex slipped into Daniel’s room, her eyes straying to the blackened wall of glass on the gable end, floor-to-ceiling windows designed to bring the countryside into her son’s room. Having grown up in a city suburb, getting him close to nature was something she was keen on. Her reflection in the glass shocked her to the core. A wizened creature twice her age stared back at her, shoulders hunched, face a ghostly white. She threw a switch, turning the intelligent glass wall opaque, wiping out the wretched image. Muffled whispers reached her through the open door.

  She wanted everyone to leave now.

  Daniel’s room was cold without him in it. Alex imagined him sitting at his desk doing homework or lying on his bed playing some game she didn’t and never would understand. Her eyes travelled from surface to surface, evoking memories of shopping trips to buy the items on display: a complete first edition set of Harry Potter; an acoustic guitar, his new Premier League football; her father’s county cricket bat; a set of Beats headphones – an extravagant tenth-birthday present from Tim. The gift had caused a rift between them. Since Tim had come into her life, he’d tried too hard to impress her son. He should know better. No item, however trendy, could buy a way into Daniel’s heart. The lad was wary of men for good reason. His biological father was no role model and Daniel’s affections weren’t for sale.

  A thought arrived, unbidden. Communication was a two-way street. Hers with Daniel had been deficient of late. After losing her second child, she’d paid him less attention than he deserved, far less than she would under normal circumstances and she intended to put that right. Her gaze landed on his Storm Trooper clock on the bedside table: 01:32. As the seconds ate their way into the night, DS Oliver wandered in.

  ‘Can I get you anything, Alex?’

  ‘That’s kind, but no.’

  Frankie made no move to leave. ‘Can I ask if you’ve noticed any unusual behaviour from Daniel recently?’

  ‘He’d been spending a lot of time in his room.’

  ‘Why do you think that was?’

  ‘I put it down to studiousness. At private school, he gets a lot of homework. He’s always head down at his desk. If he was really engrossed, I assumed he was studying, closed the door and left him to it.’ Alex was searching Frankie’s face. ‘I can see you’re not so sure.’

  ‘It’s important to know if Daniel has been talking to anyone new.’

  ‘If he has, it must’ve been on the Internet. There’s no phone in his room and he doesn’t own a mobile.’

  ‘Yes, I know. Does he have an iPad?’

  Nodding, Alex sat down. She opened the deep bottom drawer of her son’s bedside cabinet where he kept the device, shoving a neat stack of papers out of the way, removing his calculator and the book he was currently reading: Boy X by Dan Smith. Daniel had enjoyed the author’s recent visit to his school and thought it was cool that they shared a name as well as a love of reading and writing.

  She looked up. ‘It’s not here.’

  Impatience took over. Like a woman possessed, she hauled the drawer from its runners and tipped it upside down. Large items and small spilled out on to his duvet cover, but not the device she was looking for. She got down on the floor to look under the bed.

  Nothing.

  A suggestion. ‘Maybe Tim has it.’

  Through the bedroom door, Alex could see him pacing.

  He walked towards her, a sad look on his face.

  ‘How could you allow this to happen?’ she said, thoughts of the iPad overtaken by the more serious issue of her son’s disappearance. ‘How? You begged me to go! You said you’d look after him. Don’t look at me like that. One minute I’m leaving the aircraft, dying to hold him in my arms, the next . . .’ An animal-like wail escaped from deep inside her body. ‘The next, DS Oliver is telling me he’s missing.’

  ‘They’re doing all they can to find him—’

  Alex rounded on her. ‘Not enough!’

  ‘His description has been circulated,’ Frankie said. ‘Officers force-wide are on alert.’

  Alex glared at her. ‘With the greatest of respect, those are just words! I want action: a nationwide campaign if necessary, a TV appeal – whatever it takes to get my son back. What good are you doing here?’

  Tim was visibly distressed by her outburst. ‘This is no time to fall out with anyone, Alex. We need to be strong for Daniel’s sake. The police are doing all they can.’

  Her husband was right.

  Alex took a deep breath, trying to calm down and be reasonable. She held out a hand to her husband. ‘I’m sorry, Tim. It was cruel to blame you. You weren’t the one who swanned off for a week’s R & R in Majorca. This is my fault, not yours. No one forced me to go.’ She turned to face DS Oliver, apologising for any embarrassment her comments might have caused.

  Frankie left them then.

  7

  Stone knew he’d have to face Alex Parker – sooner rather than later – although the thought of it filled him with dread. She’d broken down at the airport and then composed herself, only letting her emotions go in the privacy of Daniel’s room, according to Frankie. He could see Alex through the bedroom door, weeping gently, hugging her son’s stripy pyjama top. The material looked soft and warm. It would carry a bodily scent she’d recognise blindfolded. She appeared to be looking straight at him but her husband was in the foreground talking on the phone. He was the focus of her attention.

  Those eyes.

  Stone simply couldn’t cope with those eyes. They were the exact same as—

  ‘No joy.’ Frankie’s voice pulled him from his reverie. Her appearance at his side was a welcome distraction. He’d asked her to wake Daniel’s football coach and quiz him about the vehicle the boy was seen getting into. Roger McCall was the last known person to have seen him as he left the football pitch. ‘McCall is no petrol head. He can’t remember the make or model, only that the car was old and not very well cared for. He only saw it from a distance. He gave me a list of other kids he thinks were there.’

  ‘Thinks?’

  ‘Kids turn up or they don’t, apparently. He said they arrive in dribs and drabs. He hasn’t got time to write their names down. I’m betting the parents don’t know that. If I have my way, he’ll not be a coach for long. I called the office. Brian Tilley’s on nights. He’ll follow up with other mums and dads to see if anyone else saw the vehicle. It was dark grey, McCall reckons, which is not a lot of use to us—’

  ‘He didn’t get a registration number?’

  ‘Not even a partial. He has to be the worst eyewitness I’ve ever come across.’

  ‘How many in th
e vehicle?’

  ‘He said two initially, then qualified that with “maybe”.’ Frankie rolled her eyes. ‘Training takes place on Ponteland High School pitch, so there may be CCTV. McCall claims the car drove off in a southwesterly direction towards the fell road. Not that it helps – it could’ve been going anywhere. I told him to stay put. We’ll need a statement from him in the morning. Ditto Justine Segal, the au pair, unless you want her now. She’s not gone to bed yet.’

  ‘No, we should get off. I need to speak to the mother first.’

  ‘You want me to?’ Frankie obviously had misgivings.

  Stone cleared his throat. ‘No, I can do it.’

  He glanced at Alex through the gap in the door. She was curled up in the foetal position on the edge of Daniel’s bed, the boy’s nightclothes clutched tightly to her chest. She wasn’t sleeping. Her eyes were open, staring into space. A casual observer might think she was dead.

  ‘David?’ Frankie’s stare was intense. ‘Are you sure you want to do this?’

  He nodded, appreciating her concern. In the short time he’d known her, she’d shown herself to be compassionate. An officer who cared for colleagues and the community she served, victims her top priority. Policing was in her blood, passed down through the generations. Frankie Oliver was the real deal. She was also done waiting for a response.

  ‘David, let me help.’

  ‘You can’t.’ He walked away.

  At the bedroom door, Stone lifted his right hand, tapping gently so as not to startle Alex. Her eyes moved but not her head. It was as if the strength had been sapped out of her. He knew the feeling. Seeing her lying there made his heart bleed, a pain so acute he was ready to turn around and take Frankie up on her generous offer.

  Daniel’s mother sat up as he moved across the threshold.

  He approached her slowly, hoping she might not notice that he was wavering. It wouldn’t do to show his emotions when hers were so raw. A child’s disappearance crushed the life out of anyone. He couldn’t imagine what she was thinking right now. The effect it was having on both parents was so profound they could hardly bear to look at one another, let alone talk.

  Cases of child abduction – if that’s what this turned out to be – were paramount. Many officers had kids of their own. Stone drew comfort from the fact that his small team would be utilising every method at their disposal to find Daniel. The flip side of that thought was depressing. The DI was painfully aware of the discrepancy that existed between family expectations and what he could realistically deliver in terms of manpower. Government cuts had left uniformed personnel stretched to the limit force-wide, every shift depleted, particularly in rural areas. There were fewer detectives now than there used to be. Had it not been for Frankie’s insistence that they should act, coupled with a remarkably quiet night for the CID, they would not be involved.

  Selfishly, he wished the missing boy were someone else’s problem.

  Alex was staring at him, a look of terror on her face.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I didn’t mean to intrude.’

  ‘You have news?’ Her words were almost inaudible.

  Stone shook his head. He’d frightened her and felt guilty for it. ‘It’s early yet.’ His legs felt like lead. He gestured at the only chair in the room. ‘May I? I need to talk to you.’

  Alex gave a nod.

  It was a mistake to sit so close. Stone hadn’t figured the effect it would have on him. His heart almost stopped as their eyes met. Memories were dragging him back in time, towards a deep, dark pit. The more he resisted, the more he dug his heels in, the greater the pull towards the edge. His eyes found the floor, the blue carpet morphing into pools of icy water, a metaphor for the eyes he was trying so hard to ignore. He was in trouble and hadn’t the courage to face her.

  He must . . .

  He couldn’t fail a second time.

  Somehow, he managed to free himself from his fit of terror and concentrate on what he had to do. A smile of encouragement didn’t quite make his lips. ‘I thought I’d check to see if you’d like some company – someone other than your husband and housekeeper, I mean. I can arrange for a Family Liaison Officer if it would be of benefit.’

  Alex appeared relieved that he didn’t have bad news to share but couldn’t keep the disdain from her face. He didn’t blame her. His offer of an FLO sounded hollow and unimpressive.

  ‘That’s very kind,’ Alex said. ‘If it’s all the same to you, I’d prefer to be on my own.’

  ‘In that case, DS Oliver and I will head off. We’ll be in touch the minute we have something to report. I’ll brief you in the morning.’ He trotted out the party line, hating himself for doing it. ‘My officers will be working round the clock to find Daniel.’

  Another meaningless statement was lost on her. What Alex Parker required was action, someone to take charge and save her boy, an investigator with the nous to hunt down the person or persons who’d taken him away. Stone wanted to tell her that he was that detective. That with Frankie’s help he’d find those responsible and make them pay, but he couldn’t make that promise on such a doubtful outcome. He’d made life and death decisions before, pledged to make the pain go away, given assurances he hadn’t delivered.

  I won’t let that happen, I swear.

  A wave of nausea slammed into him like a wrecking ball, demolishing what little confidence he had left. He turned his head away, making out he was interested in the artwork on Daniel’s wall, telling the boy’s mother how talented he was. Stone couldn’t allow her to see his distress. She might misconstrue it. Eventually, the feeling subsided, enough for him to face her.

  ‘You should try and get some rest,’ he said.

  ‘How can I? I have a million questions and not one answer.’

  ‘I have many too. They can wait.’

  As he made a move to stand, Alex grabbed his wrist, preventing him from leaving. Her icy hand sent a shiver right through him. The dark pit was back. One minute Stone was standing on the edge, staring into the abyss, the next he was hurtling, down and down, on his way to certain death. His desperate cries went unanswered. There was no help, for him or her.

  8

  ‘Boss, we should get going.’ Frankie had gone to Stone’s rescue in the nick of time. She’d seen Alex’s attempt to keep him in the room. That touch, however momentary, was inappropriate between the parent of a missing child and an SIO. Fortunately, Tim Parker’s back was turned or he might have been the one charging into the room to find out what was going on.

  Whatever it was, Frankie wanted no part in it.

  Alex spoke before Stone could. ‘I don’t want to delay you, but I have many questions.’ She was looking directly at Frankie. ‘DI Stone seems to think they’ll wait till tomorrow. I’m not so sure.’

  ‘It is very late,’ Frankie said. ‘We really should get going.’

  ‘May I trade you one question before you do?’

  ‘Of course. You can ask us anything.’

  Two pairs of eyes were fixed on Frankie. She was finding it hard to concentrate with no inkling of what Alex had a mind to ask. The detective sergeant was suddenly on her guard: what the hell had she interrupted?

  ‘You first,’ Alex said.

  Frankie chanced her arm, asking a question she wouldn’t dare ask her boss. His fault. If he wouldn’t share, perhaps Daniel’s mother would . . .

  Lie detector primed and ready.

  ‘Mr Parker told me that you’ve been married before and that he’s not Daniel’s real dad.’ Frankie felt the heat of Stone’s glare and ploughed on regardless. ‘I was wondering, has there been much contact between your son and his biological father since you split up?’

  ‘As little as I can get away with.’

  ‘You don’t approve?’

  ‘That’s two questions and I’m rather tired.’

 
Frankie detected a change in attitude. To be fair, Alex Parker did look exhausted, though she was more together now than she had been when Frankie entered the room. Her tears had dried up. The transformation was amazing. No longer was she the wretched parent who couldn’t cope. She wanted answers and wasn’t about to air her dirty linen in public to get them. She’d have to explain that relationship eventually, though.

  Nevertheless, her response had put Frankie on the back foot. ‘I’m only trying to establish if Daniel might have run away and if his father is a local man.’

  ‘My ex is from the area but no longer has a house here. Last I heard, he was living in the London borough of Camden. He moves around with alarming regularity.’ Frankie glanced at Stone. No concern visible, though his face was set in a scowl. If Alex noticed the exchange she didn’t show it. She was still talking . . . ‘I hardly think it likely that my son had the motivation or means to get to London all by himself.’

  ‘Children can be very resourceful,’ Frankie said. ‘You said yourself that he was an able young man. Such a trip would require a certain amount of planning. I assume he had access to pocket money. Perhaps he’d been saving up without your knowledge and bought a ticket online—’

  ‘He has money but his relationship with his father is, at best, distant.’

  ‘You wouldn’t happen to have an address?’ Frankie took in her nod as well as her irritation. Clearly there was no love lost between the divorcees. So where did that leave Daniel? Frankie felt sorry for kids like him. Playing piggy-in-the-middle was never easy. They almost always wanted what they didn’t have, even if it wasn’t good for them. However bad the relationship between Alex and her ex, the guy was Daniel’s father. Frankie nudged her again: ‘In case he’s moved, your ex-husband’s full name and date of birth would help us locate him.’

  Another glance at Stone.

  No reaction.

  ‘His name is Robb Scott. Date of birth: 10 November 1977.’