Anderson was still studying the pictures of the two boys on the white wallboard. Blond-haired Luca, blond-haired Troy, so like each other. So like Peter. It made him uneasy. He looked at the map. The Red Triangle was becoming a mass of stickers and pins. Somebody had scribbled Large scale map on order under it. Anderson looked at the names on the rota for the search parties –he didn’t recognize any of them. That made him uneasy too. He glanced at his watch – it was going on half one – and coughed. ‘Is Costello back yet?’
‘Saw her a minute ago, guv,’ said Wyngate.
‘And DS Lewis?’
‘Haven’t seen her,’ shouted somebody wistfully.
‘She’s running around doing her thing for the press. Irvine will be heading out to get Peter soon, once Costello has finished nattering to her about Sarah McGuire,’ said Wyngate. ‘She’s got a bee in her bonnet about that woman. She’s had Gail Irvine go right through that house.’
‘I thought that was to wait until Quinn had agreed it.’ Anderson turned round and, sure enough, Costello had collared Irvine for a chinwag that he was glad he could not overhear. If whatever they were hatching sent Quinn ballistic, at least he’d be able to say honestly that he had no idea what it was about.
‘Well?’ demanded Costello.
Irvine pulled out her notebook. ‘There was an open strip of tablets, Headeze to be exact, on the kitchen worktop, and a glass tumbler upturned on the draining board and a plate and a spoon lying in the sink, rinsed. I brought them in with me…’
‘For public safety, not because they’re evidence,’ prompted Costello.
‘Indeed. And I still have them in my desk. Locked. I made a list of the contents of the fridge and put stickers all over the place.’
‘The ex-hubby said Sarah was on some daft carbohydrate diet. So, what would breakfast be? Porridge? Weetabix?’ Costello looked thoughtful. ‘Look, Gail, I’ll stay on here for the briefing, as I missed this morning’s. I know Lewis has you running around like the proverbial blue-arsed fly, but can you do this for me?’ She handed over the final list that had evolved on the yellow notepaper. ‘I don’t want DCI Quinn to see the results yet, so just leave it on my desk marked for my attention, OK?’
Irvine’s eyes opened as she looked at the length of the list. ‘Will I have time?’ she queried.
‘Find time.’
Irvine hesitated.
‘If you don’t do it, somebody else will, and I’d rather you got the credit,’ said Costello quietly. ‘Rumour has it Quinn is putting names forward for promotion on these appraisals; that’s why Vik is being such an arse. I’d like to see you on the list as well.’
‘Cheers, Costello.’
They both turned as the brisk clip of high heels along the corridor heralded the arrival of Kate Lewis with John Littlewood, Kate’s wide lips turned up in a hundred-watt smile as she gazed at him.
‘I get your point,’ said Irvine out the corner of her mouth, folding up Costello’s list. ‘You know, Costello, I’ve never seen that before, a woman smiling at Littlewood.’
‘She’ll be trying to borrow money.’
‘She doesn’t need it; the rumour is her man’s loaded.’
‘I’d heard he was a cop.’
‘A loaded cop? My God, Littlewood is smiling back.’ Irvine tapped Costello with the yellow paper. ‘I’ll get on with this then. I take it no one’s supposed to know?’ Costello nodded, and Irvine slipped out the room.
Anderson banged a spoon against a mug for attention. ‘Right, you lot – briefing. We know two children are missing. DS Lewis’s reconstruction is based on the definite facts, not the maybes. Luca Scott was in the Joozy Jackpot amusement arcade with his mum, Lorraine.’ He pointed at a picture of a pale-faced, black-haired woman of indeterminate age, her face drawn and eyes dead. ‘She went into a… status epilepticus…’ he stuttered over the word, ‘a constant fit to you and me, and they called an ambulance. In among all the confusion and mayhem, the wee lad disappeared.’ Anderson pointed to the other board. ‘Troy McEwen went missing on Tuesday; the window of opportunity is now from four thirty to four forty-five. You all know the site? It’s not a park; it’s a big public garden, overlooked on all four sides. The trees are bare, no buildings, no cover, and the boy wasn’t airlifted out by aliens. Somebody, looking out their window, must have seen something. So, we go back through all those flats again. We are now working on this bigger grid.’ He indicated the area on the map with a quick sweep of his forefinger. ‘Let’s look at the neighbour – Miss Cotter,’ he continued. ‘She noticed the McEwens’ flat door was open, and that Troy wasn’t there. She phoned the police, as she already knew about Luca. So, we have another seven-year-old boy, this one wandering around in a bright-blue fleece and baggy leggings, and again, nobody saw anything. There are no forensics at the park, just a speck of blood, and that’s being tested.’
‘No word back on that yet,’ said Wyngate.
‘Can you ask them to do it before Christmas? This Christmas! Any other ideas? Mulholland, am I boring you?’
Vik turned, woken from his dwam. ‘Sorry, what?’
‘Any other ideas?’
‘Oh, Miss Cotter, obviously; she’s the batty neighbour, killing the children and putting them in the back of the wardrobe,’ said Mulholland. ‘Case solved. Can I go home now?’
Anderson ignored him. ‘Anything else? Has anybody found any tie-up with Luca Scott? However tenuous?’
Lewis shook her head. ‘Nothing that we can find.’
Anderson said, ‘OK, interview Miss Cotter. And Alison McEwen, and Lorraine Scott – just in case there is a connection. Both boys are seven years old, cute, angelic-looking, both have dysfunctional mothers, and both are under social care orders. Both boys disappeared at roughly the same time on consecutive days; is that a connection? Anything else? Come on, you lot.’
‘We’ve checked the central record, cross-referencing these abductions, if that’s what they are,’ said Lewis. ‘There are no matches, and nobody jumps out as a suspect.’
‘Which leaves the possibility that there’s somebody new we don’t know about,’ said DS Littlewood. He added darkly, ‘Or somebody we don’t want to know about – a new perve on the block.’
Anderson ran his fingers through his hair. ‘I really don’t want to think about that. And Rogan O’Neill’s presence in the country means the papers are paying these abductions a lot less attention than they normally would at this stage. The media are more interested in his sex life than the fate of two missing children.’
‘No change there then,’ muttered somebody from the back.
‘So, let’s hope that Lewis’s photo shoot gets us some good coverage. Christ knows we could use it. Meeting over,’ Anderson announced. ‘Such as it was,’ he muttered to himself.