Cold as Ice (14 page)

‘What about the little boy’s father?’

‘She didn’t seem very keen on him. They’d fallen out. I don’t know how much involvement he has in Jackson’s life now.’

They could hear the television on in the other room and the high-pitched voice of a character on children’s television.

‘I don’t know how you’re going to find him.’

‘Don’t worry about things like that, Mrs Collins. I’m sure the forensic officers will find out what we need to know. What about a boyfriend? Did she talk about her private
life?’

Tracy shook her head as she spoke. ‘Not really. We’d just begun . . . as I said.’ Tracy thought for a few seconds. ‘I did get the impression there was someone – you
know – there were a lot of texts. She came back quite merry the night I babysat. Seemed like she’d had a good time. I just don’t know. I’m so sorry – I know so little
to help you.’ The doorbell rang.

‘I’ll get it,’ Carter called out, opening the door. Jeanie stood in the doorway, blowing into her hands with the cold. She smiled across at Jackson.

‘Thanks, Jeanie, I appreciate you coming,’ Carter said as he led Jeanie into the kitchen. ‘Come and meet Mrs Collins, Danielle Foster’s mother.’

‘Mrs Collins, this is Jeanie. She is a Family Liaison Officer, which means that she’ll be the one to explain things to you and help you through all this.’ Jeanie gave Carter a
look that said, ‘That wasn’t what I said and you know it.’

Tracy shook Jeanie’s hand. ‘Pleased to meet you,’ she said, her eyes going from one detective to another. ‘Everyone – please call me Tracy.’

Jeanie smiled. ‘Hello, Tracy. I know it’s all a bit overwhelming, but we’ll take things one step at a time. What I’d like us to do now is leave the officers to find
Danielle and you and I will concentrate on looking after Jackson.’ Tracy smiled, relieved. ‘I need to make a list of the practical things we need for Jackson and we’ll start
putting it together for you, just in case he’s here for a couple of days. I’ve brought over some crayons and some paper for Jackson. It’s important that we get him settled and
secure and, at the same time, we encourage him to open up about what he saw. Drawings are a great way for us unlock things in his head. I also picked up a pair of pyjamas and a tracksuit for him on
my way over. I hope it’s the right size.’ Tracy didn’t answer. She took the packets from Jeanie and stared at the label. It didn’t mean anything to her. Jeanie took them
back from her and put them on the worktop. ‘But I’m not just here for Jackson. I’m here to help you, Tracy.’

Tracy smiled and nodded but she continued to look overwhelmed. ‘Thank you.’

‘Does he sleep in a normal bed or one with a side to it?’

‘I know he sleeps in a bed not a cot. I don’t know much about his routine, what he eats or what he likes doing really.’ She held up her hands in an
it’s hopeless
gesture. ‘I can bath him. That’s about it. I’m sorry.’

‘It’s no problem, Tracy. Maybe he can sleep with you tonight?’ She nodded. ‘We’ll see what tomorrow brings. Maybe then we’ll know what we’re faced
with.’

‘You must think this is serious to be all here like this? Taking tests and talking about unlocking things in Jackson’s head?’ Her eyes settled on Carter as the man in
charge.

‘We are concerned,’ he said. ‘I won’t lie to you. She left without locking the Chubb. She left with her phone, but not her bag. And most of all she left her little boy
behind. Do you think she’s the kind to leave Jackson and go willingly like that?’

Tracy shook her head slowly. ‘No. I really don’t think so. She’s very protective of him. It’s her and Jackson against the world really. If she left him then she must have
thought he was safer that way.
Oh God . . .
’ Her eyes went from one officer to the other.

‘When did you last speak to her, Tracy?’

‘I was here at home, it was Thursday evening.’

‘Did you speak about anything in particular?’ Carter asked. He was trying to stop Scruffy from covering his legs in dog hairs as Scruffy clearly saw Carter as a potential playmate
and kept jumping up on him.

‘She called to sort of apologize, I suppose, for the other night when I babysat? She said she was ringing to ask me to come to the fête. That’s where I was supposed to see her
and Jackson today.’

‘Did she seem anxious? Did she say something was bothering her?’

‘No. She seemed fine – sounded good. I could hear it in her voice. She was upbeat.’

Tracy’s phone lit up on the worktop. She looked at the caller ID.

‘It’s my husband Steve. Do you mind?’

‘Go ahead,’ said Carter and the three officers left her to talk in the kitchen. Jeanie went in to sit on the sofa next to Jackson. Carter called Ebony over to him out of
Tracy’s earshot.

‘We’ll leave Jeanie to take Tracy’s statement and we’ll go back to the flat now and see what Sandford’s found. By that time we might know something about Manson and
about the three men who paid Danielle’s flat a visit the other night.’

Tracy came off the phone. She hadn’t told Steve about Danielle. She was hoping she wouldn’t have to; hoping that Danielle would be back. Luckily Steve had just said he wasn’t
coming home that night anyway.

‘My husband’s staying at work tonight,’ she told Carter. ‘He sometimes does when he has a lot on. He’s got a camp bed there and a telly. He won’t mind for one
night and then I can concentrate on Jackson.’

Carter nodded. ‘We’ll leave you and Jeanie to settle Jackson in and Jeanie will take your statement as well.’

‘I thought I’d done that already.’

‘We need it written down if you don’t mind, Tracy.’ Carter called Jeanie outside the front door to speak with her.

‘You think this is linked to Emily Styles’ death?’

‘My gut instinct says it. She even phoned the helpline. Maybe someone didn’t want her to talk. Yeah. I think we have to assume it until we know otherwise. If she turns out to have
nipped out to buy an Elastoplast after cutting herself then I’ll be pleased as punch but somehow it’s all a bit wrong. If Hawk has her, Emily was held over a period of months. That
means that if it is our man, we have time to find her.’

Carter left Jeanie to go back inside and Ebony came out and closed the door behind her.

Her breath came out in a white cloud as their feet crunched across the frozen pavement. It was five p.m.

Ebony paused by the car and looked across the car roof at Carter. She could see by his face that he’d had enough of Tracy’s house. He was a doer rather than a thinker. He’d
only stayed long enough to know what action should come next. There was another reason he had had enough of Tracy’s home. Ebony understood it. He pulled hard on the frozen handle, wrenched
open the door. Once inside, he leant over to push Ebony’s door open from the inside.

Ebony kept silent for a few minutes, busying herself with pulling on her seat belt and getting out her notebook. Jeanie had the effect of making Carter unsettled, claustrophobic. Ebony waited
for him to relax again.

Carter switched on the engine. He sat thinking whilst it warmed up and de-misted the windscreen. Ebony began writing up the last few minutes of their time in Tracy’s flat and recorded the
actual time of leaving. She wrote:
DI Jeanie Vincent to begin questioning the victim’s son, Jackson. Returning to Fletcher House with samples of clothing. Includes bloodstained
child’s pyjamas.

When she’d finished, Carter flicked off the light switch.

‘What do you think, Ebb?’

She looked back at the house. The security light above the door was still on.

‘I think that if she doesn’t show up in the next twenty-four hours, Guv, then Tracy’s and Jackson’s lives are never going to be the same.’

He sighed. ‘Yeah. Twenty-four hours and then we’ll know for sure. This is what we asked for, Ebb. We were supposed to flush him out when we revealed her identity.’ Carter put
the car into gear and pulled away. ‘Not make him do it again.’

After Jeanie had finished taking Tracy’s statement she packed it away in her bag and took out some things she’d brought especially for Jackson’s interview.
She laid out paper and crayons onto Tracy’s kitchen table. She placed a bag on the table.

Jackson was watching the children’s programmes on television in the lounge.

‘Do you think Jackson saw what happened?’ asked Tracy. She sighed; suddenly she looked exhausted.

‘I don’t know; but the quicker we question him about the event the more chance we have of getting all the small details. I’d like to make a start now if that’s okay? I
would like to establish who was in the flat at the time his mum left. Can you start with drawing me a rough plan of Danielle’s flat? It’s mainly for me to use.’

‘I’ll try.’

‘The main thing is that you put in the things you think Jackson will remember in his flat – anything distinctive that you think he’ll relate to, like where the telly is, what
colour his front door is, that kind of thing.’

Tracy nodded. She sat at the table and sketched an outline of the flat, then handed it to Jeanie.

‘It’s pretty good. You have a good memory for detail.’ Jeanie smiled. ‘Okay, you ready?’

Tracy nodded. ‘I’ll get Jackson.’ She went into the lounge to fetch him.

‘Sit on Nanny’s lap, Jackson,’ Tracy said as she led him to the table and helped him climb up.

‘Jackson. Shall we do some drawing?’

He looked interested when he saw the crayons.

‘Jackson?’ Jeanie got his attention. ‘Shall we draw your house? Tell me about your house.’

Jackson began drawing a front door and a window next to it.

‘What colour is your front door, Jackson? Choose a crayon that colour.’

‘Pink.’ Jackson was colouring, concentrating with his tongue sticking out. He coloured inside the lines of the door he’d drawn.

‘How many bedrooms are there, Jackson?’

‘Mummy’s room and Jackson’s.’

‘How many is that?’

He held up a thumb and finger. ‘Two.’

‘What’s Jackson’s room like? Can you draw it?’ Jeanie gave him a new piece of paper.

Jackson chose a blue and a yellow crayon. ‘Fireman Sam bed.’ He scribbled slashes of blue and yellow.

‘Anything else?’ Jeanie was writing notes. He slowly shook his head. ‘What about Mummy’s room?’

‘Photos of Jackson and Mummy in the park.’

‘Are there? Did you have a nice time?’

Jackson nodded. ‘We give bread to the ducks.’

Jeanie looked around the room. Jackson did the same. ‘Whose house is this, Jackson?’

He answered: ‘Nanny’s house.’

‘Yes that’s right, this is where Nanny lives, isn’t it? Can you draw Nanny for me?’ She gave him a fresh piece of paper.

Jackson drew a round head and inside he drew eyes.

‘What a clever boy. What about Nanny’s hair, Jackson?’ He chose a yellow crayon and scribbled a yellow streak on the top of the circle. Jeanie smiled at him. ‘I can see
Nanny’s arms and legs and she’s got eyes. Lovely blonde hair. Can you draw Mummy and Jackson?’ Jackson drew a small face with legs and the tallest figure with long dark hair.
‘Is that Mummy?’ He nodded.

‘When you saw Mummy last, what was she doing, Jackson?’

Jackson’s eyes moved around as he thought hard. He began moving his head from side to side.

‘Was Mummy happy? Did she have a happy face, Jackson?’ He continued shaking his head.

‘Mummy said
Leave me alone
.’

‘Was Mummy cross?’ He nodded. Where were you standing then, Jackson?’ Jeanie had the plan that Tracy had drawn in her hands. ‘Were you in the kitchen?’ He shook his
head. ‘Were you standing next to anything, Jackson?’

‘My buggy fell
bang
on the floor.’

Tracy had drawn the buggy resting against the wall in the hallway.

‘Were you standing next to your buggy when it fell over?’

He nodded.

‘Did Mummy say anything to you, Jackson?’

He looked at Tracy as he answered. ‘Mummy said
go back in your bedroom
.’

‘Was there anyone else in Jackson’s house?’ He nodded again.

‘Jackson, how many other people were in the flat with you and Mummy and Scruffy?’

Jeanie pulled out some puppets from the bag. The first one was a woman. ‘Was there someone like this? A lady there in the flat?’ He thought hard and shook his head. ‘A
man?’ asked Jeanie as she pulled a male puppet from the bag. Jackson nodded his head. He was concentrating hard. ‘Show me how you can count, Jackson. Where are your fingers?’
Tracy smiled encouragement. Jackson lifted both his hands in the air. ‘How many fingers have you got on your hand, Jackson?’

Tracy touched each finger as he counted them. ‘One, two, three, four, five.’

‘Good boy. Very good.’

Jeanie took out two more male puppets. ‘Was there more than one man, Jackson? How many men were there in the flat, Jackson?’ He held up one finger in the air.

‘Where is Mummy now, do you know?’ He shook his head; his eyes focused ahead, his face confused and sad. ‘When you last saw Mummy, where was she standing Jackson?’

He didn’t reply. His face was clouded with thought.

‘Was there someone else there with Mummy?’

He nodded. ‘Mummy said
don’t hurt my son
. Mummy said
you bastard
. Poor Mummy . . .’ Jackson looked at his hands; he turned the palms over and shook his head.
‘Poor Mummy hurt her hand.
Get out. Get out
.’ Jackson looked up and shouted across the room towards the lounge door. ‘
Bastard
!’

Jeanie reached out and soothed him.

‘Can you draw that other person for me, Jackson?’

Jackson picked up a brown crayon and begun to draw a head but he stopped and picked up a red crayon and began to scribble.

‘Mummy loves Jackson.’ Jackson tore the paper as he held the crayon in his fist and scoured the paper. ‘Leave Mummy alone. Get out. Get out.’

Jeanie reached inside a bag she’d brought with her and pulled out another doll. ‘Does this look like Nanny?’ He nodded. ‘Hello, Nanny.’ Jeanie talked to the puppet
and set it down on the table.

‘Who is this one do you think, Jackson?’ Jeanie handed a dog puppet to Jackson. He held it in both hands and wiped his nose on it.