Deadly Focus (15 page)

‘No problems boss. I’ll get it done this afternoon.’

‘That’s great, John, thanks. How’s the family?’

‘Brilliant. Emma’s six now and Jake’s four. Just don’t get enough time with them. You know what it’s like when the job’s running.’ Dylan had heard that before, many times.

‘Make sure you make time. There’s nothing worse than setting off on a morning before they get up and getting home after they’ve gone to bed. You miss so much and before you know it they’re married and have children of their own.’

‘Easier said than done though sometimes, boss,’ John sighed.

‘Yeah I know. Don’t let that nosy administrator know what you’re doing. We’ll tell her when we’ve made a decision. It’ll be easier that way.’

‘Consider it done; I’ll get back to you.’

‘Cheers, John, and remember, family comes first.’

Dylan left a message for Dawn and Larry to meet up with him the next day after the briefings. He wanted to discuss with them the approach to the families. There was something bugging him, but he couldn’t put his finger on what it was, what he was missing. Experience told him it would be something simple and obvious that he wasn’t seeing.

There was nothing forthcoming from any line of enquiry. The headmaster of the school couldn’t think why anyone would want to hurt Daisy or Christopher. There was no connection between teachers, football, school friends; they didn’t even think Christopher and Daisy knew each other. They’d drawn a blank with Meredith, who had a watertight alibi.

Dylan wondered if Boscombe, the offender profiler, could tell him more. He was trying to keep focused. He wanted answers. He needed answers. The pressure was building all the time, and he hoped and prayed there wasn’t another child killed. The phone rang.

‘Hey you, how ya doing? Home for tea?’

‘Hiya, love.’ He leaned back in his chair. His shoulders visibly dropped as he relaxed and stretched.

‘Should be, nothing new here, but not for the want of trying.’

‘It’ll break, don’t worry. You’ll do it. You’ll get there. Come on, Jack. This isn’t like you. Pick yourself up. You need to keep that team bubbling.’

‘Don’t worry. I’m fine. It’s just so damn frustrating. I want to find that link. What the hell am I missing?’

‘Apart from me?’ He could hear the teasing in her voice, and he smiled.

‘You know what I mean,’ he said. ‘I’m just worried another child’ll be killed.’
Is it me,
he wondered.

Although Dylan was sifting through evidence, his team was out searching, interviewing, and statement-taking. The volume of paperwork in the incident room was mounting daily. Dylan needed to be aware of every piece of information that came in. Ultimately each action would form the basis of the prosecution file. He kept a check on the workload of each individual officer, which was easily done using information from the computer. There was no way he could afford to have anyone slacking. If he’d marked the lines of enquiry ‘priority,’ he expected them to be treated as such. His team had energy, just no suspect.

The phone rang and it was Janice. ‘Sir, Daisy’s funeral has been confirmed for the December the twenty-eighth. Will you be there?’

Chapter Eighteen

Jack woke the next day feeling a lot brighter. For once he had slept well, and it was Christmas Eve. He cuddled Jen to him.

‘I’ve a feeling today is going to be a good one,’ he said enthusiastically.

‘That’s more like it,’ she said kissing the tip of his nose before she jumped out of bed to get breakfast.

Funny,
he thought as he sniffed the air, rising from bed,
no smell of bacon.

‘Porridge for breakfast,’ she shouted from the kitchen, as if she had read his mind ‘It’ll give you a good start.’

‘Bacon,’ Jack shouted in response from the bathroom with foam on his face as he shaved.

By half past seven he was on his way into the office having had his porridge. The coffee was percolating, and he could smell the strong aroma as he opened the door to the incident room. Before he had time to sit down behind his desk, John and Vicky knocked on his door in unison.

‘Morning, you two,’ he said brightly.

‘Morning, sir,’ they both chirped, equally eager.

‘The store you asked us to look at,’ said Vicky, sitting down in a chair adjacent to his desk.

‘Yeah, how is it?’

‘Full. But the good news is that we think the murder exhibits will fit easily into the void. The most recent exhibits are neatly catalogued and marked up, on the shelves boxed and labelled, so it’d just be a matter of lifting and relocating them. We could do it in a day.’ Vicky smiled.

‘Looks like our little property man has been passing his time reading some of the old files, so they’ll need to go back to the void anyway,’ said John.

‘That’s brilliant, thanks a lot.’ Dylan was delighted.

He stood up and put on his jacket. He needed to speak to the Spencers and the Hinds.

‘Larry, you ready?’ Dylan called. ‘We’re going to see the Spencers. Dawn, I’ll meet you for lunch and then we’ll go and see the Hinds.’ Larry jumped up from his chair as though he had been roused from sleep and ran out of the incident room after Dylan.

Sarah Spencer made them a cup of tea and placed a plate of biscuits on the table in front of them. Both she and Martin still looked pale; red, puffy eyes circled with dark rings. Weight had simply dropped
off them, made apparent by their clothes, which hung on their frames.

‘I won’t ask you how you are, it’s obvious. Is there anything or anyone that’s come to mind that may help with the case? An argument within the last few weeks or months that you’ve been able to think of?’ asked Dylan.

‘No, sorry, there’s nothing at all that we can think of. We’ve racked our brains trying to think of something or someone but there really is nothing, nothing at all. Clive and Fran, your officers, have been so good, we feel so useless. We know there has to be an explanation but we haven’t got a clue. It’s the not knowing. It’s just wearing us out,’ said Martin, who looked just about all in.

The room they sat in was adorned with pictures of Christopher and his little sister, Jane, school pictures, holiday pictures and party pictures. The most noticeable thing was the absence of Christmas decorations or cards.

‘Martin, Sarah, I’m sorry, try not to worry. I know that’s easier said than done, but we’ll get there, I promise,’ said Dylan. ‘By any chance did you know Daisy Hind, the little girl that was murdered? She went to the same school as Christopher.’

‘No, I don’t think so, is there some connection? We haven’t watched the news or bothered with papers ever since … it happened. They’re just so awful. I’m sorry.’ Sarah dabbed at her eyes with a tissue.

‘What about her mum and dad, any connection there? Trevor and Wendy Hind?’

Martin looked shocked, sat up straight, and moved forward on the settee.

‘Trevor Hind, did you say? I went to school with a Trevor Hind. Was it his daughter that was killed? That’s unreal.’

‘How well did you know Trevor?’ enquired Dylan.

‘We were best mates, but we never kept in touch. I don’t think Sarah has even met him.’

‘When did you last see him?’

‘Gosh, about six months ago at the Harrowfield School reunion.’ A smile flickered across his face as he reminisced. It was the first time Dylan had seen a smile on Martin’s face. It made him look younger somehow.

‘Did you go, Sarah?’ Dylan asked.

‘No, I stayed home and looked after the ki … well, you know,’ she said quietly.

‘I’m interested. Tell me more, Martin. Where was it? How did you get to know about the reunion?’

‘What has that to do with Christopher and Daisy?’ Martin said with disbelief. ‘It was boring. Nothing happened. I’d a couple of pints, a chat with one or two old mates, and then came home.’

‘Where did they have it?’

‘The Con Club opposite the school.’

‘Were there a lot there, a good turn out?’

‘Probably about thirty. I went on the
Friends Reunited
website about eighteen months ago, just out of curiosity. I put in my details, what we were doing as a family, a picture just like others had. I should imagine there’d be pictures on the site from the reunion because folk were taking them. I went to see what my mates looked like after thirty years and to drum up a bit of business, to be honest.’

‘So you saw Trevor there? Anyone else in particular that you were mates with from school?’ Dylan felt an adrenaline rush. Was this the link that he’d been missing?

‘There was me, Trevor, and a lad called Barry Sanderson. We knocked about together. We liked to think we were the three musketeers. “All for one, one for all”, we used to shout.’

‘Was Barry at the reunion?’

‘Yeah, he looked terrible. He’s got a drink problem. Poor old lad.’

‘Can we look at the site on your computer?’ asked Larry.

‘You could if it was working, but it’s on the blink. I haven’t used it since the reunion. I kept saying I’d get it fixed, but with everything else that’s happened, it’s been the least of my worries,’ he said, then he sighed. For a few short moments, he had thought about something other than his little boy. ‘There was nothing untoward, it was just a drink.’

‘No skeletons in the cupboard from your schooldays that could have anything to do with it?’ Larry asked tentatively.

‘No, nothing at all. A few boys’ pranks I can remember, but no, I’m sure it can’t be anything to do with the old school crowd,’ he said shaking his head.

They stood to go. ‘It’s just one line of enquiry. Something we’ll look at like everything else. No stone will be left unturned. I promised that and I meant it. If you do remember anything else, don’t hesitate to contact us. We’ll be in touch.’

Dylan drove Larry back to the nick. They were both deep in thought.

‘We need to do some research on the reunion, Larry, as a priority. I’d like you to find out about Barry Sanderson and everyone else there. Draw me a list up whilst I’m over at the Hinds’ this afternoon please.’

‘I’ll get straight on it. See what I can get off the site and from the organiser. Leave it to me.’

‘It’s about the right time,’ Dylan said thoughtfully. ‘Lunch? Canteen?’

‘Suits me, boss, it’ll be interesting to see what the Hind family have to say this afternoon.’

Omelette with salad for lunch, Jen would be proud of me,
he thought as he stood in the canteen queue. Larry, however, couldn’t resist the full, all-day breakfast, served with extra toast. Dawn joined them at the table and they told her about the reunion.

At the Hind house, Trevor and Wendy were duplicates of the Spencers. Both looked completely drained and distraught. Wendy was still taking medication and looked particularly drawn, her eyes dull and glazed. It was understandable.

‘Is there something new, something to tell us?’ asked Trevor. They both looked eager for an answer, any answer.

The house was full of cards, they blanketed every flat surface, but they weren’t Christmas cards. Wendy saw Dylan and Dawn looking at them.

‘We’ve had condolence cards from people we don’t even know. Letters from people, some who’ve lost their children in horrific ways, they’ve been so kind, so thoughtful and comforting. It’s really helped. Mum would’ve loved them all. They’d ‘ave made her cry. It’s been worse because I wasn’t … I couldn’t … be with Mum. I just feel like I’ve let everyone down. I’m so sorry,’ she said as her hand covered her mouth and she fled from the room in tears. Trevor’s eyes were swimming too.

‘I’m sorry, she has good days and bad, mostly bad, but so do I.’ He shrugged his shoulders. ‘I can’t leave her to go back to work yet.’

‘We understand, Trevor. All I can say from experience is that time does heal, but it doesn’t take away the pain of these dark days. Can I ask you something? Do you know a Martin Spencer?’

‘Yes, I do. Why? He’s nothing to do with it, has he? We were mates at school.’

‘No. No, nothing like that. His son, Christopher, was murdered.’

‘God, that’s weird. I only saw him … October, at a school reunion. I did hear on the radio about a boy being found dead by the canal, was that him?’

‘Yeah.’

‘I never made the connection. Bloody hell, that’s really shocked me. When you leave school, you have every intention of staying in touch with yer mates don’t ya - but once you start work, you end up drifting in different directions. I’ve seen him knocking about occasionally, but we don’t socialise or anything like that. Then we got invited to this reunion and I thought why not, let’s go and have a look at some of the people I went to school with, and he was there.’

‘How did you hear about it, the reunion?’

‘I’d been on that website,
Friends Reunited
, a few times, updating what I was doing, working as a fireman and that.’

‘Did you put on any pictures?’ asked Dawn.

‘Just one of Wendy, Daisy, and me showing off, like. You don’t think the reunion’s got anything to do with it, do you? Nothing happened; we only had a drink and a chat. There was no bother or anything like that. I can let you look at the website if you want. I think they’ve put a couple of dozen pictures on since, from that night. They were trying to catch everyone who went.’

‘Who organised it and put the photos on ,Trevor, do you know?’

‘A girl called Liz Green. She was always ”the” organiser at school. You know, planning the school disco, the school play … she was there. Her contact number’s on the website. Do you really think there’s something there?’

‘It’s just another line of enquiry, but it does connect you with the Spencers. Or it may be nothing,’ said Dylan. He didn’t want to build Trevor’s hopes up.

‘I’ll get my laptop and you can print off what you need. Liz’ll have everyone’s details, I should think. We had to get back to her if we were attending, for buffet numbers.’ Trevor sat on the sofa busily booting up the computer.

‘What about the schooldays, Trevor? Did you knock about with anyone else apart from Martin?’ asked Dylan as Wendy walked back into the room and sat next to her husband. Her eyes were red from crying and her face looked flushed and puffy. Trevor put a protective arm around her and gave her a squeeze.