The room had quietened. They were all waiting for Matilda.
‘Sorry,’ she apologised. ‘Now, as I was saying, we need to know everything about their routine, what’s going on in their lives. I know we don’t like to think this, but facts don’t lie, and the majority of the time, when a child goes missing, or is killed, it is by someone they know. Just because Craig does all this charity work and Linda is a doting mother doesn’t mean we don’t investigate them. I want everyone’s movements known for around the time Keeley went missing. Not just of the parents, but of the entire family too, that includes aunties, uncles, cousins, grandparents, great grandparents and third cousins twice removed. Until we know what happened to Keeley Armitage, everyone is a suspect. Is that clear?’
There were nods of ascent from around the room.
‘Good. Now, Sian, I’d like you to pay a visit to Keeley’s school. Find out what kind of child she was there – is she different from when she’s at home, was she being bullied, the usual. While you’re at the school, get a spare uniform and get it photographed. We need to try and get a similar jacket to the one she was wearing too. I’ll try and get Craig and Linda to do a television appeal later if this ransom demand doesn’t play out like it should.’
‘You don’t think she’s been kidnapped for ransom, do you?’ Aaron asked.
‘No, I don’t,’ she said, sitting on the edge of a desk. ‘When you kidnap someone for ransom, you choose a family who has plenty of money, like …’ She swallowed hard. ‘Well, like the Meagans. Yes, Craig has raised over half a million pounds, but you only have to read all these stories of him in the paper to know that he hasn’t put the money in his own bank account. It’s to buy special equipment for his son, or for the Children’s Hospital. He works two jobs, Linda doesn’t work. They don’t have that kind of money.’
‘Why would someone pretend they’ve kidnapped her when they haven’t?’ Scott asked.
‘To cover up what really happened to her,’ Matilda answered.
The room went silent while they all took in the implications of Matilda’s statement. Had Linda Armitage invented the kidnapping because she had killed her daughter?
‘But we’re not discounting the kidnapping completely?’ Aaron asked.
‘No. Nothing is being discounted until we have firm proof. I hope we’re monitoring all their calls.’
‘We are.’
‘Can I ask a very sensitive question?’ Rory asked.
Everyone turned to look at him, and his face reddened at the attention.
‘Go on,’ Matilda prompted.
‘I’m only asking this as we’re keeping an open mind on the whole kidnap thing, but, say she was kidnapped and there is someone out there waiting for fifty grand, do you think, that … well, what I mean is … is there …?’
‘Is it the same people who kidnapped Carl Meagan?’ Matilda finished his question for him.
‘Yes. Sorry.’
‘Don’t apologise, you’ve every right to ask. I’ve spent most of the night thinking that myself. Kidnaps for ransom are very rare in this country. Is it possible the people who kidnapped Carl are having another go? I really don’t know.’
‘But Carl’s kidnappers didn’t get their ransom money,’ Scott said.
‘No. But we don’t know what happened to Carl. I screwed up the ransom drop, and they got away with Carl. After that, who knows what they did to him. Maybe they sold him on and made their money that way. We don’t know.’
Matilda’s brow had wrinkled, and her face took on a look of sadness. The Carl Meagan case haunted her on a daily basis, and now it was happening again, just when she was getting her life back on track. This was a cruel twist, and Matilda knew she had to get it right. She could not allow her emotions to get the better of her, and if that meant upsetting the already fragile parents of Keeley Armitage to get some answers, then she was perfectly prepared to do so.
She looked up to find the whole room staring at her, waiting to hear what she was going to say next.
‘Right then,’ she clapped her hands together. ‘You’ve all got things to be going on with. Christian will give you your tasks. Get out there and find Carl—’ Then, ‘Fuck,’ she muttered under her breath.
‘Come on everyone, away from your desks. This is a police station, not a call centre,’ Christian said, covering his boss’s error. ‘I don’t want to see any of you in here until the evening briefing.
Matilda turned away from the room and headed for her makeshift office. She closed the door behind her and pulled the blind closed.
Her small office was a mess, as always. Every available surface was cluttered with files and paperwork; open cases, closed cases, cold cases, any information relating to a missing person somewhere in the world who bore a striking resemblance to how Carl would look now.
She slumped in her leather chair and pulled open the top drawer of her desk. A fragile envelope, coming apart at the seams from permanently being opened, sat on top of a notepad. She lifted it up carefully, opened it and pulled out the five photographs from inside. They were all of Carl with his family; playing in the back garden, on his father’s shoulders at the beach, opening presents on Christmas morning, playing with the puppy in the park, snuggling with the same dog in bed. In each picture, he was smiling, he was happy, he was content.
‘Where the bloody hell are you, Carl?’ She asked as tears began to form.
Chapter 11
The sound of hammering drew Ellen into the living room. The coffee table had been moved to one side and the carpet pulled away from around the window. Craig was on his hands and knees thwacking a hammer down onto the exposed floorboards.
‘Craig!’ She called out over the din. ‘What are you doing?’
He turned around to face her. His face was expressionless. ‘I hate not having anything to do. I can’t just sit around here waiting for the phone to ring at four o’clock. I thought I’d do a few jobs I’ve been putting off.’
‘I think maybe you should leave that for a while, at least until Linda gets up. I’ve made a fresh pot of coffee.’
‘If I drink any more coffee, I’ll be bouncing off the walls.’
‘It’s better than tearing up the living room,’ she smiled.
He smiled back. His face seemed to light up for a brief moment.
In the kitchen, Ellen poured them both a coffee from the cafetière. They sat at the heavily scratched pine table.
‘I like the garden,’ she said, looking out of the window. It had been designed with wide walkways for Riley’s wheelchair to go down, raised patches of grass for him to sit on without too much trouble getting out of his chair.
‘Thanks. I did most of it myself. It took me ages.’ He added a splash of milk to his strong coffee and poured in three heaped spoonfuls of sugar. ‘Riley loves it. He enjoys the fresh air.’
Ellen cleared her throat. ‘Tell me about Keeley. What sort of a child is she?’
‘She’s a good child,’ he replied without giving the question any thought. ‘She’s never given us any worry. She dotes on Riley and I think she listens to Jodie more than she does me and her mum,’ he laughed nervously.