The Lost Page 6

‘Fifty-five.’ Frankie saw an inroad and took it. ‘You’re cast from the same mould. There’s a dark side to his character too.’ When he didn’t respond, she kept digging. ‘He has the tendency to shut down when troubled. Ring any bells?’ She didn’t wait for an answer. ‘You never quite know what he’s thinking. That’s how he got so many offenders to cough during his career. His facial expression alone scared the shit out of them.’

  ‘Tell me about your email.’

  ‘Is that a euphemism for lay off?’

  ‘The email, Frankie, or keep it buttoned.’

  Stone was a totally different guy to the one she’d encountered at the Parkers’ house: relaxed, unruffled, in charge. The transformation was astonishing. Gone was the sad look on his face, the lack of communication. Hell, he was practically ready to take a joke. Except Frankie wasn’t laughing. Whatever had happened to him in London sat on his shoulder like a heavy weight, a closely guarded secret he was unwilling to share. She hoped to God it didn’t involve Alex Parker and couldn’t help thinking that Daniel’s mother might be the reason he’d returned to his old stamping ground. Frankie could think of no other explanation for his weird behaviour earlier. She’d made her play and decided not to push it.

  ‘Not talking to me now?’ he asked.

  She glanced at him. ‘Sorry, I drifted off.’

  ‘You were about to tell me about the mystery email. Who was it from?’

  ‘James Curtis: Parker’s business partner. Remember Parker’s excuse for not picking Daniel up?’

  ‘Important meeting, you said.’

  ‘Well, there’s a discrepancy between their accounts of what happened afterwards that needs further investigation. Curtis claims the meeting ended shortly before six thirty. Parker told me he checked his phone the minute business was concluded and found Justine’s voicemail. He couldn’t have done. She didn’t leave the message until ten past seven.’

  ‘No wonder you were so cagey with Alex.’

  ‘Yeah, well either Parker is lying or Curtis is. For the record, Ponteland High School is less than a twenty-minute drive from their workplace.’

  ‘Which means Parker could’ve picked the boy up himself—’

  ‘Maybe he did.’

  ‘Maybe he didn’t.’ Stone was playing devil’s advocate. ‘If Parker had time to pick Daniel up, then logically so did Curtis. It would be interesting to know how long the two have been in business together. How close Curtis is to the family. Presumably he knows the boy personally. You work with a lad’s father long enough, you get wind of their routine. Stands to reason he might have knowledge of Daniel’s movements, collection times, that kind of thing.’

  ‘Clever. For a moment, I thought you meant Charlie Dawson.’

  ‘He’s another possibility. Then there’s Daniel’s biological father and his football coach.’ Stone had a point: suspects were piling up.

  Frankie went quiet, sifting the possibilities. Timothy Parker could have been mistaken when they spoke at the station – not unusual for someone under so much duress. Equally, he could have deliberately misled her and made a false statement. The jury was out on that one. Or maybe Curtis had. They both had the means and opportunity to collect Daniel. With Dawson, Rob Scott and Roger McCall also in the mix, the detectives were spoilt for choice. Her priority was finding Daniel before it was too late.

  10

  Stone slept badly, every missing kid he’d ever come across, dead or alive, invading his dreams, a procession of lost souls and unfulfilled potential filing slowly past, girls and boys, the unlucky ones cut down in the prime of their lives. The image faded, only to be replaced by the names of bereaved parents scrolling through his head like movie credits. His eyelids flickered, distorting the image. He tried to open them, to climb out of the distressing nightmare, but she was in his head again, standing right in front of him, icy pools for eyes, pleading with him not to let her go. She looked SO much like Alex Parker.

  Stone gasped, a sharp intake of breath waking him suddenly.

  For a moment, he was disorientated. Gone were his possessions, his music and artwork, the street view he was so familiar with. In its place, a dilapidated, seventeenth-century cottage in need of a full refit, his late grandmother’s home he couldn’t bear to sell. Drenched in sweat, he swung his legs over the edge of the sofa and headed to what he’d named the torture chamber, an ancient shower that hung over a rusting bath. Pipes banged as he turned on the tap. He could piss quicker and the water was cold. He was in and out in minutes, clean but shivering uncontrollably and covered in goosebumps. The north-facing property was never warm even in the height of summer. The sooner he could get to the car, the sooner he’d defrost.

  A shaft of light crossed the room as Stone opened the door to the incident room allocated to their case. Frankie had beaten him in. She was standing in silhouette, the sun streaming in through the open window behind her, a million dust mites dancing around her head. As she walked towards him, ready for a tough day ahead, the names that had invaded David’s sleep rolled in front of his eyes. Not one had he been able to forget. Nor did he want to. Their identities acted as a reminder never to stop looking – never to give up without a fight.

  He must find Daniel.

  ‘Blimey!’ Frankie grimaced. ‘You look rough.’

  ‘I’m not the only one.’ It was out of his mouth before he had time to stop it.

  ‘I was asleep for less than four hours – who were you expecting, Madonna? What’s up with you anyway? You been listening to Jimmy Nail on the way in?’

  Stone laughed.

  Since he’d arrived on Tyneside, she’d been ribbing him relentlessly about his nostalgic ramblings of growing up in Northumberland as a kid, mocking him about his homesickness, the reason he’d given for his sudden departure from the Met. He was beginning to wish he’d used a different excuse. He could never, would never share the real one.

  ‘Don’t suppose—’

  ‘No.’ She’d anticipated the question. ‘There’s no news. Day shift are all out knocking on doors. Civvies are manning the phones, working through that list Parker gave us. I just got off the blower. The caretaker at the Royal Grammar School gave me a number for the head teacher, Teresa Bowlby. Charlie Dawson is not a name she’s familiar with, but that means nowt. She’s recently home from a sabbatical, not yet up to speed.’

  ‘She’ll check it out?’

  ‘And so will we . . . I need a coffee hit.’ Through a gaping yawn, Frankie held up an imaginary cup and waggled it in the air in lieu of speech to see if he also wanted a brew. ‘I can’t manage a short macchiato or any fancy shite you’ve been used to in the south. It’s cheap instant coffee or builders’ tea, if you’d prefer.’ She lifted her hand, fending off a response. ‘I know, we really should up our game, but this is Middle Engine Lane, not Drury Lane.’

  Stone grinned.

  Middle Engine Lane was the home of Northern Command Headquarters. It was close to Wallsend – a former shipbuilding and mining town on the River Tyne – so named for its location on the eastern end of Hadrian’s Wall, once occupied by a different kind of force: a garrison of soldiers housed at Segedunum Roman fort.

  ‘Builders’ tea is fine,’ he said.

  Frankie walked away singing ‘Big River’, a cheeky glance over her shoulder to make sure he was smiling. He was. His life was better with her in it than it had been without. His brother even said so. Over a beer, Luke had joked about her piss-taking, how she seemed to bring out the best in David, commenting that he’d never known him so happy. Stone had been on the verge of telling him that he was the reason for that, not her; that being home and in touch meant more to him than anything. He’d held back at the last moment. Luke never could take a compliment.

  Stone sat down and made a list of actions he wanted to discuss with Frankie before they met with the parents again, wondering if the couple had managed a
ny sleep. He was betting they hadn’t. For someone with a missing child, a few minutes without news must be torturous – never mind a few hours.

  Despite Frankie’s opinion of Tim Parker, Stone didn’t want to read too much into the fact that he hadn’t reported Daniel missing right away. As a rule, the public tried not to waste police time. Few parents liked to be seen jumping the gun or being made to look foolish when their offspring arrived home none the worse for wear, having forgotten the time, got involved in some activity or, God forbid, got lost. David was more interested in exploring the relationship between the boy and his stepfather, and that would necessitate talking to Alex and Justine first. The au pair was a good bet. She was due into the station in less than an hour. He was hoping she’d have insight to share.

  Frankie arrived, two steaming mugs in her hand. She set one down on his desk and pulled up a chair. ‘How d’you want to play it this morning?’

  ‘I’ll take Justine Segal. You tackle the football coach.’

  ‘Makes sense, given that I’ve already had the pleasure.’ She rolled her eyes. Another yawn. ‘Or not, depending on your point of view.’ Frankie checked her watch. It was eight o’clock. ‘That doesn’t give us long.’

  David cradled his cup, wondering how long it would take her to tackle him about going AWOL last night, figuratively speaking. He felt guilty for having dumped her with the delicate stuff. Telling a mother that her son was missing was a hell of a responsibility. She’d handled it with sensitivity and compassion. He wanted to share that thought, except it would lead to a conversation he wasn’t ready to have.

  11

  Stone spotted Justine Segal’s clapped-out green Renault Clio enter the station car park below his office window. He checked his watch. She was ten minutes early. He observed her from above as she got out and sauntered toward the entrance. Seconds later, the phone rang, the front desk announcing her arrival. He gave Frankie the heads-up and left the office, heading for reception.

  On his way to the ground floor, the DI considered taking Justine out for a chat – somewhere less formal than the station. Witnesses often went into defence mode at the first sight of an interview room. He decided against that for two reasons: he didn’t want her thinking he had the time to take a stroll with Daniel Scott missing and experience had taught him that difficult questions were best handled at home or within a professional setting, especially in cases where there was every likelihood of people getting upset.

  Fortunately, the interview suite was quiet.

  ‘Please have a seat.’ He closed the door behind him.

  The room was warm. Justine took off her navy linen jacket and sat down. The DI loosened his tie, pulled out a chair and sat down opposite his interviewee. Close up, the au pair looked pale and drained. He was relieved that she hadn’t witnessed his lack of composure the previous evening. At least with her he could pretend he was on top of his game, even though he was far from it. It was high time he got a grip and did his job.

  Justine fiddled with a small silver cross hanging round her neck, eyes scanning the basic, windowless room. She was not as confident as she first appeared to David through the window. Her posture was tense – stiff upper body – hands fidgety, subconsciously projecting her anxiety across the room.

  Maybe that walk would have been the better option after all.

  ‘Thanks for coming in,’ Stone said. ‘I won’t keep you long.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Justine was visibly relieved to hear it. ‘Alex needs me. In fact, I’m not sure why I’m here. I’ve told your colleague all I know about Daniel’s disappearance. I have nothing more to add.’

  Yup . . . defensive. He could see her point of view, though. She was miles from home, caught up in a family drama and feeling partly responsible. Nevertheless, her upset seemed genuine.

  ‘All the same, I’d like to go over it again.’ He explained why it was important to get the details right. ‘I need some background from you.’ Justine nodded her consent and he carried on, taking notes as he went. ‘I understand you’ve not worked for the Parkers for very long.’

  ‘Six months. Tim took me on when Alex came out of hospital. She lost a child, right after Christmas. It was stillborn, a little girl. Horrendous experience for everyone. They’ve been through so much. Daniel’s disappearance . . .’ She paused, taking a deep breath, struggling to get her words out. ‘It will kill them, Inspector. Tell me what I can do to help.’

  ‘I believe there was some disagreement over who was supposed to collect Daniel from football training? Mr Parker was under the impression that you were doing it.’

  ‘So was I. He said he’d be tied up, but when I got to the school Daniel had already left. I called Tim. He didn’t pick up. I left a message and then drove straight home. Daniel wanted to put balloons up for his mother’s homecoming and I wanted to get it finished.’

  The image of that welcome home sign popped into Stone’s head. He wasn’t ashamed to say that he was as affected by it as anyone else. It seemed to mock him as he entered the house. ‘I listened to the voicemail you sent Tim, Justine. You sounded very angry—’

  ‘I’d had a wasted journey. Wouldn’t you be?’

  ‘I’m not so sure I’d have been so vociferous about it with a relatively new employer.’

  ‘I was worried.’

  ‘Even so, having met Mr Parker, I’d say you were chancing your arm, speaking to him that way.’ If Stone had been asked to describe Justine, he’d have said she was anguished. She dropped her head, prompting a further question: ‘Was it only the misunderstanding over who was collecting Daniel that made you angry, or was there something else you’d like to tell me about?’

  Lifting her head, the au pair took in a deep breath. ‘You are very perceptive, Inspector. Normally, I try to get to training ten or fifteen minutes early. I like to watch Daniel on the field. We have this thing we do. A challenge. If he scores a goal while I’m watching, I take him to the cinema and pay for popcorn. If he doesn’t, he pays. Last night, I was running late. I knew he’d be disappointed that I’d let him down. We both love the movies.’

  ‘Sounds like a lot of fun.’ Stone said. ‘Has he ever paid up?’

  ‘Not yet.’ It came out like a sob.

  The DI tried to regain her attention with another question. ‘Do you normally act as taxi driver when Daniel needs a lift?’

  ‘Of course, if he has football or golf and his parents aren’t available – that’s my job. They’re busy professionals, often away from home. Plus, I love spending time with him. Is it relevant?’

  ‘Only in as much as you might have seen the vehicle we are now trying to trace,’ Stone explained. ‘Did you speak to Daniel’s football coach when you got there?’ His witness drifted off someplace else. He gave her a gentle nudge. ‘Justine?’

  ‘Sorry. What did you say?’

  ‘Mr McCall? Did you speak with him at the training ground?’

  ‘Yes. It was Roger who told me that Daniel had gone. I assumed Tim had picked him up.’

  ‘How come you were late?’

  ‘Traffic was bad – an accident that took a while to clear. I arrived at the school at five past seven.’

  ‘I see.’ The lack of punctuality explained her distress when he’d seen her at the house surrounded by the search team. She was undoubtedly shaken, unable to settle, avoiding eye contact with Tim and Alex – a guilty look witnessed by Frankie too. Stone didn’t dwell on it . . . but he would if he had to. ‘What would Daniel normally do if you were late?’

  ‘I’m never late!’ She bridled. ‘And it’s normally a few minutes after seven when they leave.’

  ‘Would Daniel wait if you weren’t there?’

  ‘Yes, he’d been told he must stay with Roger.’

  ‘And Mr Parker doesn’t know you were delayed?’

  Justine shook her head, guilt eating her up. ‘It was c
owardly of me, but I couldn’t bear to tell him it was my fault. Inspector, you must find Daniel. I can’t live with myself, knowing that I might have prevented his disappearance.’

  The DI tried to placate her. ‘You weren’t to know there would be an accident.’

  ‘That’s what I keep telling myself, but it hasn’t helped. And it won’t until you find Daniel and return him to us.’ Stone felt sorry for her – she clearly cared for the boy. A tear appeared on the bottom lid of her right eye, a sparkly balloon, like a miniature of the ones that were hanging in the Parkers’ hallway the night before. It clung on to Justine’s lashes for a moment before the weight took it over the edge. It dribbled down her cheek and she wiped it away, her bottom lip quivering as she tried to regain composure. ‘Will you tell Alex?’

  ‘Not unless she asks me directly. Though if I were you, I’d mention it. If the search goes on for any length of time, it’s very likely that she’ll broach the subject. And then, whatever the consequences for you, I’ll have no choice but to level with her.’

  A pair of brown eyes were begging him not to.

  Stone imagined her panicking over her lateness, the relief she must have felt when McCall told her that Daniel had already been collected and was on his way home, her anger that his stepfather had caused her unnecessary distress. To some extent, those mixed emotions explained her attitude to her employer on the phone. Letting off steam was human nature after a shock, however minor, but this situation was serious.

  He wanted more from Justine Segal.

  ‘What exactly did Roger McCall tell you?’

  ‘That Daniel had already left.’

  ‘Nothing more specific?’

  ‘I’m not sure what you mean.’

  ‘Did you ask him if he’d seen your employer pick up his stepson?’ Clearly, she hadn’t. Stone made her sweat for a beat. ‘You assumed it?’

  ‘It didn’t occur to me—’

  ‘Really?’ He eyeballed her. ‘It surprises me that you made that assumption. Did it not strike you that something more sinister might have happened?’ He could have added the words ‘to a child left in your care’. He didn’t. ‘If I were you, my imagination might have gone into overdrive. Other scenarios may have crossed my mind, however fleetingly.’