Home > Stolen Children (DCI Matilda Darke # 6)

Stolen Children (DCI Matilda Darke # 6)
Author: Michael Wood

Prologue

 

Monday 10th September 2018


Avenue de la Corse, Marseille, France.


9am


He walked down the road with cars parked either side. It was early morning, but the sun was already high in the bright blue sky. Up ahead was a golden sandy beach and beyond that, the warm crystal waters of the Mediterranean Sea.

There was a breeze blowing which cooled him down slightly. He was nervous. No, he was petrified. Sweat was running down his face and his Adidas T-shirt was sticking to his back.

He kept turning around and looking over his shoulder. He had no idea how he had managed to leave his hotel room without awakening his “parents” in the adjoining room. He’d crept down the back stairs and scurried through the kitchens. He’d gone unnoticed as breakfast for more than two hundred guests was busily being prepared. He’d dodged shouting chefs and hurrying waiters, stolen a banana and a croissant from a tray, and bolted out of the fire escape. Once he was out of sight of the hotel, he’d sat on the steps of a closed shop and eaten his meagre breakfast. It had tasted foul.

Yesterday evening, while alone in his single room, he’d looked on his phone for the nearest police station. It was less than a five-minute walk, yet he’d been walking for more than half an hour now and he still couldn’t find it. He’d been down the Avenue de la Corse twice and there was nothing resembling a police station at all.

Then he saw it. Above a black door, next to barred windows was a sign which read Police Nationale. He’d thought it was a closed down shop when he’d passed it before. How could such a small building be a police station?

His heart quickened. He glanced around him once more to check he wasn’t being followed, then pushed open the door and stepped inside.

He didn’t know a word of French apart from bonjour. Marseille seemed like a very touristy place, so, fingers crossed, someone in here would speak English and understand him. He approached the desk. A dishevelled man in his mid-fifties with grey stubble and a dark tan looked down at him.

‘Bonjour. Comment puis-je vous aider?’

He looked up at him with wide, terrified eyes. ‘Do you speak English?’

‘Non.’

‘Is there someone here who speaks English?’

The policeman looked to the door then back at the young boy. ‘Où sont vos parents?’

He only understood the word parents and took a step back. He looked at the door. This had all been a terrible mistake. He should leave. Run. But where to?

‘Please. I need your help.’ His eyes filled with tears.

The policeman didn’t say anything to him but stepped away from his desk. At the back of the room, he spoke to another man in an identical uniform. Their voices were low, and they kept looking over at him. He still had time to run.

‘Hello. I speak a little English,’ the second man said in a heavily accented voice when they both returned to the front desk.

From his back pocket, the boy took out a sheet of A4 paper that had been folded into fours. He opened it up, placed it on the desk and flattened it out. It was a missing persons poster.

Underneath the red headline was a photograph of a young boy, smiling, with blond hair and blue eyes.

The boy pointed at the photograph and then at himself. He did this a few times.

‘This is me,’ he said. ‘This boy is me.’

‘This is you?’

‘Yes.’

‘You are this missing boy?’

‘Yes. I’m him. I’m Carl Meagan.’

 

 

Chapter 1

 

Monday 10th September 2018


Stannington, Sheffield


4pm


Linda Armitage opened the door to the bathroom and stepped out into the bedroom. She was pale and a sheen of sweat glistened on her forehead. She’d been sick. Again.

She looked at her son, Riley, in his bed. He was lying on his side, mouth agape, breathing deeply. He was finally asleep. She turned off the television which was showing an episode of Pingu she had seen thousands of times before and turned on the monitor on the bedside table. Not that she needed to. When Riley woke up, he screamed the house down. However, Linda always needed to be able to hear him breathing. A slight deviation from the norm and she was in his room like a shot to make sure he was still alive.

Hopefully, he’d sleep for an hour or so and she could get some time to herself before she had to start making the evening meal. She flicked the kettle on in the kitchen and sat down at the table. She was tired. She needed a shower; her hair was greasy; her skin was dry, and she hadn’t changed her clothes for a couple of days.

The front door opened and was kicked closed with a bang. Linda braced herself but it didn’t wake Riley up.

Her fourteen-year-old daughter, Jodie, struggled under the weight of the shopping bags and heaved them onto the counter in the kitchen.

‘Are you all right?’ Jodie asked.

‘Yes. Fine. Why?’

‘You’re pale. Have you been sick again?’

‘Just a bit.’

‘Have you eaten anything?’

‘Yes. I had that sandwich you made me for lunch. I managed to keep it down for an hour or so, but …’ she tailed off.

‘Maybe you should go back to the doctor.’

‘I will. Did you get me some ibuprofen?’ she asked, changing the subject.

‘No. Mrs Mortimer wouldn’t serve me. She said it was more than her job’s worth.’

‘Oh for God’s sake. She knows they’re for me.’

‘I said that,’ Jodie said as she began to unpack. ‘They didn’t have any ham for Keeley’s packed lunch either, so I bought chicken. Is she here? I could have done with a hand carrying all this.’

‘What are you talking about?’ Linda asked as she rummaged in the drawer looking for any ibuprofen that may have been missed.

‘I told her to wait for me outside the Co-op. She knew I was buying milk. I came out and she’d buggered off. You’re going to have to have a word with her, Mum. I don’t mind helping around the house but she’s old enough to take on a bit more responsibility too, you know.’

‘I will. Found some,’ she said, ignoring Jodie and pulling out a blister pack with two tablets left. ‘I wonder how long these have been in there. They should be all right, shouldn’t they?’ She poured a glass of water from the tap and swigged them back.

‘Mum, did you hear what I said?’

‘Yes, I did. I’ll have a word with her when she comes in.’

‘You mean she hasn’t come home yet?’

‘No. I mean … she was with you.’

Jodie sighed. ‘I’ve just told you that she wasn’t there when I came out of the Co-op. I assumed she’d run on ahead.’

‘Well, she hasn’t.’

‘Then where is she?’

‘I don’t know.’

Mother and daughter stood glaring at each other.

‘I suppose that means I’ve got to go out and look for her then, doesn’t it?’ Jodie said, irritation evident in her voice.

‘Well I can’t,’ Linda said, nodding towards Riley’s bedroom.

Jodie threw the pack of apples she’d been unpacking down onto the table and stormed out of the kitchen towards the front door. She was muttering under her breath, but Linda couldn’t hear what she was saying. She slammed the door behind her. This time, Riley woke, and his screaming began.

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