Little Girl Lost Page 16

  ‘You poor, poor love,’ she said.

  Alice returned her stare, her eyes wide. Even now, they seemed to have lost their lustre, as if someone had stolen something from their centre.

  ‘They took that too,’ Lucy said. She felt her eyes grow warm, felt the first fat droplet fall onto her cheek, found herself thinking unbidden of the girl who had lain in the hallway of her house as eyes watched her through the letter box. She put her arm around Alice’s shoulder and hugged her to her. Alice placed her hand on Lucy’s chest, her other around her back and returned the affection.

  They sat like that for some time, listening to the noises of the ward, the hushed movements of the nursing staff, the occasional clatter as patients shifted in their beds in the adjacent rooms on the ward.

  Finally Lucy sat up and lifted the book that sat on the chair by the bed where she had left it the previous night. She flicked through to the index, mentally ticking off the tales she had read and those she had no wish to read. Finally she settled on one.

  ‘Once upon a time, there was a young girl called Little Red Riding Hood …’ she began.

  CHAPTER 33

  Alice’s screams brought the nurses rushing into the room. They had not realized that Lucy was there and Margaret was surprised to find her standing by the bed, trying desperately to placate Alice. The child, on top of the bed, had backed against the wall and clenched the blankets in front of her face. Despite this, her screams echoed along the corridor, the cloth of the blanket doing nothing to diminish their strength.

  ‘What happened?’ Margaret demanded.

  ‘I read her a story,’ Lucy said, almost in tears herself as she stared at the child whose face was streaked with tears.

  ‘She’s wet the bed,’ the nurse said to Margaret. ‘We’ll need to change the sheets.’

  Margaret tried to lift Alice but the girl backed away from her and screamed all the harder. Her eyes though were vacant, as if she were looking at something beyond them all, as if she was not even aware of the room and the other people in it.

  ‘She looks like she’s having a night terror,’ Margaret said.

  At that moment, Melanie Kent rushed into the room.

  ‘Alice,’ she cried, running to the girl and gathering her in her arms. Robbie followed behind her into the room.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ he asked.

  ‘What did you do?’ Melanie Kent snapped, turning to Lucy.

  ‘Nothing,’ she said. ‘I came up and read her a story.’

  She gestured to where the book lay discarded on the chair beside the bed, lying open at the page where she had been forced to stop. The image of the wolf, lithe and smiling, his fangs bared, stared back at them.

  ‘You’ve terrified her!’ Melanie Kent shouted. ‘You stupid bitch, you’ve scared her half to death.’

  ‘Mrs Kent …’ Lucy began but Melanie Kent interrupted her, addressing Robbie instead.

  ‘Get her away from my daughter.’

  Lucy stopped off at the recovery ward on the way to her father only to be told by a harried nurse that Janet was sedated. The surgeons had managed to save the arm, though at the expense of the upper muscle, some of which had to be removed. Janet was not to be disturbed, she was told. In truth, Lucy had no intention of doing so; she wanted to see how she was because of her father.

  Her father was listless when she called on him. The chill he’d received when out wandering in the snow had exacerbated an underlying chest infection. He was sitting up in the bed, a mound of pillows behind his head, forcing him to sleep with the upper half of his body at a 45-degree angle to the mattress. A small tube was connected to his nose and, in the silence of the room, Lucy could hear the constant hiss of the oxygen flowing through it.

  He opened his eyes when she sat. He had not been shaved for a few days, his cheeks rough with jagged silvered stubble. His breath rasped softly in the silence as he watched her, his eyes swivelling in their sockets towards where she sat.

  ‘Is that you?’

  ‘It’s me, Dad,’ Lucy said, reaching over and switching on the bedside lamp, angling the shade so the light was directed at him. ‘How are you feeling?’

  ‘Sore chest,’ he said, a cough grumbling through his lungs, building into a short bark. The effort seemed to exhaust him and he laid his head back on the nest of pillows.

  ‘The doctors say you’ve a chest infection,’ she said.

  ‘I’ll be fine,’ he said, raising his arm an inch off the bed, then lowering it. His fingers bunched up the sheet where they rested. ‘How’s all at home?’

  ‘Fine,’ Lucy echoed, not wishing to admit that she hadn’t really been home since he’d gone out into the snow.

  ‘You’ve been talking about Janet,’ Lucy said softly, laying her own hand on her father’s as she leaned towards the bed.

  ‘What?’ His gaze flicked towards her.

  ‘You’ve been talking about Janet,’ she repeated.

  He stared straight ahead, at the joint between the facing wall and ceiling. He mumbled something which Lucy couldn’t catch.

  ‘I know she was your informant, Dad,’ she ventured, shifting forward slightly on the seat, edging closer to him.

  He nodded wordlessly. His fingers found her hand, tightened lightly around hers.

  ‘Do you want to see her?’

  A sob shook his frame and he shook his head slowly back and forth. He rasped something.

  ‘What did you say, Daddy?’ Lucy asked gently.

  ‘Forgiven me?’ he managed.

  Lucy released his hand, shifted back a little in the seat.

  Her father struggled again to speak. ‘Has she forgiven me?’

  ‘Has who forgiven you? Mum?’

  He shook his head. ‘Janet?’

  ‘Has Janet forgiven you?’

  He nodded, his hand reaching for hers again.

  ‘What for?’

  He looked at her, his eyes glistening. He breathed deeply, then closed his eyes. He muttered softly to himself, over and over, but would not speak to Lucy again. Finally, she stood, leaned over and kissed her father on the forehead. His skin was dry and warm, though his breath carried the sour scent of illness.

  CHAPTER 34

  Lucy drove home as quickly as she could to shower and change ahead of the 7.30 briefing. She had forgotten to set the heating and changed quickly. After a quick breakfast she set off again. The heat in the car made her drowsy as she manoeuvred her way down the hill out of Prehen, the road bordered by the black expanse of the woodland.

  Though the roads had been mostly cleared of snow now, and no fresh falls had come, despite more dire forecasts, she could still see the sparkling of ice off the road, could feel the steering wheel of her car light in her hand as she turned a corner. She opened the window in the hope that the cold air would keep her awake.

  The traffic in town was light, the last of the late-night taxis slowly prowling the streets for a final fare before the dawn drivers started the work and school runs.

  Lucy enjoyed the silence. For the past few days, she’d had little time to herself, despite being frequently alone. The silence suited her. Lights along the docks reflected off the river. Ice floes around the base of the pillars holding up the Craigavon Bridge had widened and joined together, running unbroken from one side of the river to the other. Staring downriver, she could make out the skeletal outline of the new footbridge being constructed to link symbolically the east and west banks of the city. The surface reflection was still, the river calm and beautiful, belying its reputation as one of the most deadly in Europe, claiming more suicides than any other in Ireland.

  The station, by contrast, was a bustle of activity. Two big breaks in twenty-four hours in the Kate McLaughlin case had brought everyone in early. There was a positive mood at the sergeant’s desk, a palpable sense that today was the day the case would be cracked.

  Travers looked well rested as he strode into the CID suite. He wore the suit from the day of the press conference and
a bright-green tie; clearly he felt that a further television appearance would be in order before day’s end. Tony Clarke looked significantly less well rested as he trailed behind him.

  Tom Fleming sat on a desk at the back of the room, studiously avoiding any of the CID team; they gladly reciprocated. He raised a mug of coffee in greeting when he saw Lucy. Just past him, Tara, her fellow detective sergeant, nodded at Lucy when she came in and shifted over in her seat to offer her room. Caught between the two, Lucy waved to Tara, indicating she would join her, then approached Tom and stood as they spoke. He slid across on the desk and patted the space beside him. ‘Hop up,’ he said. ‘You look like you ignored my advice about getting some rest. I’ve made you coffee.’

  Lucy took the proffered cup with thanks, then turned quickly to Tara, hoping she would read the situation. She returned Lucy’s smile and nodded before shifting back in her seat again.

  Travers raised his hand, waiting for silence. Clarke caught Lucy’s eye and smiled a little embarrassedly. Then Travers began to speak.

  ‘Morning all. Good to see so many fresh faces this morning after the excitement of last night.’

  A few diehards glanced around; their bleary eyes an indication of their dedication to the job.

  ‘SOCOs worked on Peter Kent’s house through the night. They’ve confirmed that Kate McLaughlin was being held in the basement of the house and in a quarryman’s shed in the middle of Prehen woods. I’ve asked Officer Clarke here to brief us on what he found.’

  Clarke stepped forward and began to speak. His voice was lost among the crowd of people and someone at the back called to him to speak louder, prompting him to overcompensate by almost shouting his way through the presentation.

  ‘We worked two scenes yesterday,’ he said, his voice inflecting to show he was repeating himself. ‘As best we can tell, Kate spent time in both places. I believe she was being held in the basement of the house on Strabane Old Road. I believe that Peter Kent’s daughter, Alice, may have helped her to escape. We found a knife beside the bed Kate was bound to. It had been used to cut the bonds. Alice’s prints were on the knife. In addition, the coal chute doors were lying open. Alice’s prints were found on the hasp of the lock on the outside. I believe she opened those doors and, finding Kate inside, helped to release her. I think she took her into the woods to the shed we searched yesterday afternoon. Again, we found Alice’s prints on the lock.’

  He glanced at Lucy. ‘We believe Alice took Kate into the woods and locked her in the shed to keep her safe. She must have been in the shed for some time for we found empty cans of food with her prints on them. She attempted to cut her way out of the shed, as we know from a broken blade found there, as well as a hole cut in the metal wall of the shed. The shed itself was probably used for bomb-making at some stage. There were traces of explosives that link to the bombing of the docks in the 1990s that resulted in Kate McLaughlin’s mother being killed.’

  The officers seated around watched Clarke intently, some of them jotting notes as he spoke.

  Travers stepped forward again. ‘Thank you, Officer Clarke. As you all can tell, Forensics has found quite a bit to get us going. They also found two charms that we believe to be Kate’s in the two locations. A third charm was found the previous night by a civilian who contacted DS Black of the PPU.’

  Several heads swivelled to look at Lucy. Fleming nudged her and raised a mocking eyebrow.

  ‘So what’s the story, sir?’ a young detective sergeant at the front asked.

  ‘We believe that Kent and Quinn abducted Kate and held her in Kent’s house. A day after she was taken, Kent was landed with looking after his daughter when his ex went on holiday. His child, Alice, must have helped Kate McLaughlin escape, as Officer Clarke has explained. We can only assume that when Kent’s partners arrived looking for her and found she had gone they assumed that he had let her go. As Alice was found in her pyjamas, we think that Kent didn’t tell his partners about her and, presumably, they blamed him. There is evidence of torture on his body inflicted with a claw hammer. His associates must have been quizzing him over what had happened to Kate. The fact that Alice is still alive would suggest that he didn’t tell them about her, or they would surely have used her to force him to speak. The blood misting on her clothes suggests she was in contact with him as he died, but we have to assume that she was hidden when his attackers killed him.’

  ‘He died to protect her,’ Lucy muttered to herself. Fleming looked at her quizzically. ‘And she probably saw who killed him, too.’

  ‘Alice took Kate to the shed and someone found her again, we believe.’

  ‘Might she not have escaped, sir?’ someone to Lucy’s left asked.

  ‘Unlikely. The hole she made wasn’t big enough for someone of her age and size to squeeze through. Plus the door of the shed was open. Police 44 did a fly-by the day before and in the images taken then, the door of the shed is clearly closed.’

  ‘She was in the shed when they flew over,’ Tara commented.

  ‘It seems so,’ Travers agreed. The admission was greeted with groans.

  ‘So, as you know, we now have two of Kate’s abductors dead; one of them as a result of being pursued by one of our officers.’

  Someone near the back of the room let out a muffled cheer.

  Travers smiled. ‘I know. Still, had he been alive we might have got something useful from him. There must still be other members of the team on the loose and we still have to locate Kate herself. Thankfully, Mr McLaughlin’s offer of a reward has brought out the vultures.’

  The room buzzed as Travers pinned up photographs of two men on the noticeboard. Lucy thought she recognized one of them, the thinner of the two men, but could not immediately place him. His face was sharp, his hair lank, hanging across his face. The second man bore a familial resemblance to the first, though his face was rounder, his jowls sagging.

  ‘Peter and Alan Cunningham,’ Travers said. ‘Our targets for today.’

  When she heard the name, Lucy realized who the man was: the partner of Mary Quigg’s mother.

  ‘An informant tells us that these two men were involved in Kate’s snatching. Both have form: the fat boy, Peter, did time for child sex offences in the eighties; he’s still on the register. The younger one, Alan, has records for drugs offences and for a few domestic abuse reports, including those involving a child.’

  ‘What’s the connection here?’ someone behind Lucy asked.

  ‘Peter took up plumbing while inside; the two of them operate a plumbing service. Peter owns a red van matching a description of one spotted parked in the lay-by at Prehen woods yesterday.’

  ‘Half the town owns red vans,’ Fleming muttered to Lucy.

  ‘Our CI gave the registration number of the van as being Cunningham’s.’

  It was a little more plausible, Lucy thought.

  Then Travers turned to her. ‘DS Black has encountered Alan Cunningham recently, isn’t that right, Sergeant?’

  ‘That’s right, sir,’ Lucy said.

  ‘You didn’t hear any screaming coming from Cunningham’s basement or anything, no?’

  ‘No, sir.’

  ‘Didn’t notice anything unusual?’

  ‘No, sir,’ Lucy said. ‘I was following up a concern about a school child,’ she explained. ‘Cunningham is dating the girl’s mother.’

  ‘Despite his record,’ Travers said, for the benefit of the whole room, ‘Alan Cunningham is living with an eleven-year-old child. Our concern today is to take the two of them as cleanly as possible. We need the van for Forensics, obviously.’

  ‘Is it a house raid, sir?’ Tara asked.

  Travers shook his head.

  ‘It will be easier to get the two of them together, with the van. We’ve set checkpoints on both bridges, to try to pick them up. I’ll be assigning teams to assist Uniforms for the lifts.’

  Some people began to stand, ready to get going, but Travers had not finished.

  ‘These two
are scum, but they are unlikely to be armed. Be careful but there should be no reason for anyone to get hurt.’

  Then he stared at Lucy directly. ‘And do try not to kill anyone today, DS Black.’

  As people began to filter away into their teams, Lucy stood to one side. Fleming excused himself, claiming he had paperwork to complete. As soon as he had left, Travers approached her.

  ‘Inspector Fleming didn’t hang around,’ he observed. ‘I hope you didn’t mind the little joke.’

  ‘It’s fine, sir,’ she said tersely, unwilling to show Travers that he had embarrassed her.

  ‘Every newbie gets something. You have it light. When I started every new appointment got stamped.’

  Lucy tried to be sincere as she shared his smile. She’d heard of stamping: new recruits having their trousers and pants pulled down and their buttocks stamped with the station rubber stamp. It was an initiation that had been reserved mostly for female recruits, strangely.

  ‘It’s fine, sir,’ she repeated.

  ‘I’ll make it up to you,’ he said. ‘Go out with Team C.’

  CHAPTER 35

  Lucy went out to the car park and looked around for Team C. Finally, Tara approached her.

  ‘You’re with us,’ she said. ‘Come on.’

  Lucy followed her across to the parking bays where five unmarked cars sat idling. Most were already filled and waiting to leave. Tara moved across to the furthest and climbed into the back seat. Lucy got in beside her.

  The driver turned and smiled. ‘All right, ladies,’ he said. He was young, thin-faced, handsome.

  Tara nudged Lucy. ‘All right, Mickey,’ she said.

  The young man’s smile vanished quickly. ‘Shit,’ he muttered, turning back in his seat.

  Lucy looked beyond him and saw Travers crossing the yard towards them. He opened the front passenger seat and got in.

  ‘Let’s get going, Constable,’ he said. ‘We haven’t got all day.’

  Lucy caught Mickey’s eye in the rear-view mirror, saw him raise his eyebrows. Then he shifted into gear and the car lurched forwards.