Deadly Focus (25 page)

‘I’ll be fine.’ He couldn’t help smiling at her. If only she knew she was right on two counts. ‘I’ll be on my mobile if you need me.’

‘Let me know if you need anything,’ she called, as he left the office.

God, did he look as bad as he felt?

The short journey seemed to take forever. His head was fuzzy. He felt hot then cold and his mouth felt dry. Max greeted him, furiously wagging his tail as he let him out. He poured himself a glass of cold water. Standing still in the kitchen, he watched Max in the garden and, as he turned, he swayed and nearly fell.
Boy, I feel odd,
he thought, as he steadied himself.

‘Penny’s coming to take you out mate. Someone else to fuss over you. You’ll like that won’t you?’ he told Max, as he threw his jacket over the back of the chair and rested on the settee.

Once again, the telephone woke him. It was dark and he was freezing cold. He felt Max on the floor at the side of the settee as he grovelled in the dark for the phone.

‘Were you asleep?’ asked Jen in reply to his gruff hello.

Chapter Thirty-Four

Jen’s dog walker, Penny Sanderson, worked two jobs. She was bringing up two children on her own since Barry had left and she needed all the money she could get. This invariably meant that fourteen-year-old Becky was often left in charge of seven-year-old Troy, much to the girl’s annoyance. It wasn’t too bad on a Saturday morning though, she conceded, as she could take him to the Ice Skating Rink in Harrowfield, where Mr Meredith ran the youth skate. Both children’s school friends went and Becky could sneak off with Carly for a quick fag in the toilets while discussing the latest crush or crisis in their lives.

‘Troy, are you ready? We’ve got to go now,’ Becky screamed at the top of her voice.

Troy was still sprawled on the settee in his pyjamas, watching TV.

‘Come on, just put your tracksuit on,’ she yelled impatiently, throwing it at him from where it was heaped on the living room floor.

‘I haven’t had breakfast,’ Troy whined.

She put her hands on his shoulders and looked him straight in the eyes. ‘Look, I’ll get you something from the newsagent’s, right?’

‘Thanks, Becks,’ he said pulling his clothes on with vigour.

Becky and Carly busily texted back and forth to work out who was going to be at the skating rink and where they were going to meet.

‘Let’s have a look at you.’ Becky turned Troy round. ‘Have you brushed your teeth?’ Troy looked puzzled. She’d just asked him to be quick, hadn’t she? Becky fussed around him, pulling his clothes straight and whizzing the brush through his hair, just like Mum did.

‘I’m starving, Becky,’ Troy moaned.

‘Run, otherwise we’re going to miss the bus,’ Becky shouted, as she pushed him out of the door and slammed it shut. They ran for the ten past eleven to town.

‘You promised, Becky,’ Troy whinged as Becky dragged him past the newsagent’s and onto the stationary bus waiting at the stop.

‘Standing room only,’ called the bus conductor as he rang the bell. Troy’s stomach growled noisily.

The bus dropped them outside the ice rink. As the doors of the bus opened, the smell of fish and chips wafted towards Troy.
Food at last.
Becky kept her word and soon they were all sitting on the wall scoffing chips outside the chippy. Troy’s unruly blonde hair blew in his face; he tucked it behind his ear and licked his fingers, savouring the taste of the salt and vinegar.

The girls giggled uncontrollably when Pete and Gary called to them as they swaggered across the road. Becky threw Troy her scraps and jumped off the wall to greet the boys. Carly followed.

‘See you’ve got your young ‘un with you,’ said Pete.

‘Yeah, but he won’t be no bother. He’s got some mates coming,’ Becky assured him. The last thing she wanted was Pete to think she’d got Troy hanging round her all session.

‘I’ve got the money to get him in, so if we go first and sneak him in through the fire exit at the back, we can spend it on a packet of fags,’ she said, giving Pete her brother’s entrance money. ‘Troy.’ She beckoned him off the wall to join them. ‘You wait at the fire exit and we’ll open the door from the inside like before. Remember?’ she asked.

‘But why can’t I go in the front like you?’

‘Just do it,’ Becky hissed, as she escorted him by the elbow towards the doors. If he showed her up, she’d kill him when she got him home. Pete and Gary went to buy the cigarettes. Carly waited for Becky by the entrance.

‘Wait there,’ Becky demanded as she shoved Troy in the porch of the fire door.

‘Come on, Becky, there’s a queue. We won’t get in at this rate,’ Carly shouted from the corner of the building.

‘I’m coming,’ she shouted back. ‘Don’t move, and listen for us to shout you,’ she told Troy before running off to join the others.

Did she think he was stupid? He waited as he was told. Five minutes, ten minutes … he impatiently kicked the door. They were taking forever. Where were they?

‘Troy. Troy,’ came the voice and Troy turned and saw him. ‘Hiya, mate. What’re you doin’ there?’

The fire exit door scraped open, making a scratching sound on the flagstones beneath.

‘Troy, get over here. Quick,’ Becky whispered as loud as she dared. There was no response. ‘Troy, stop messing about. I’ll flaming well kill you if you don’t come here now,’ she hissed. Still there was no reply. Becky peeped out of the open door as best she could without setting off the alarm. Troy wasn’t anywhere to be seen.

‘Here, let me look,’ Carly said, pulling Becky back by the sleeve of her coat.

‘I can’t see him, either. What we gonna do now, Becky?’

‘Where’s he bloody gone? I told him to wait. We’ll have to go back out and find him,’ Becky said in a huff, as she carefully closed the door and ran to the main entrance. Waiting to get the backs of their hands stamped, Becky was fuming. ‘Did you see that Helen Tracy sniffing around Pete? The tart, if her zip gets any lower her tits will knock him out,’ she said.

‘And if Sharon’s skirt gets any shorter, you’ll be able to see her belly button,’ Carly remarked. ‘I just knew she was after Gary.’

‘I’ll kill our Troy if he’s lost me a chance with Pete. How long have I fancied Pete for, eh? I tell you Carly, I’ll fucking have him.’

‘Yeah, and they’ve probably smoked the fags too. I’ll kill him for you.’

Outside, they ran round the building. Troy was nowhere to be seen. They screamed his name. It was no good. He wasn’t there.

‘Mum is going to skin me alive if I’ve lost him,’ panicked Becky, out of breath. ‘Carly, what am I gonna do? I’m dead meat.’ Becky’s voice shook, she was worried. ‘Troy never does this. He always does what I tell him. Well nearly always,’ she conceded.

‘Call the police, Becky, they’re good at finding people, aren’t they? I would.’

‘I’m gonna ‘ave to, aren’t I? He’s gone,’ said Becky, her eyes brimming with tears.

Carly hugged her friend. ‘Yeah, it’s probably best to let them do it from t’rink. Police’ll listen to them,’ Carly said.

‘Where’s me little bruv, Carly? Where is he? Do you think somebody’s got ‘im?’ Becky cried.

‘I don’t know. Becky. I don’t know what to say.’ Carly stood shaking.

Chapter Thirty-Five

Dylan crawled into bed. He could smell Jen’s shampoo on her pillow. It smelled like bubblegum. Resting there, he felt close to her and as his eyes closed, he fell into a deep, fitful sleep.

‘Hello? Hello?’ A woman’s voice calling from downstairs broke into his dream.

‘What the hell?’ Dylan sat up and immediately lay down again. ‘Argh,’ he moaned as he held his head in his hands. He could hear Max running up and down the hallway. His eyes ached in their sockets, his neck was stiff and his stomach was sore. He’d forgotten Penny was coming to take Max out. In the hope that she wouldn’t know he was in bed, he stayed as still as he could until the door slammed shut and he heard her feet trip up the path, Max in tow, barking playfully.

‘Come on, pull yourself together,’ he growled as he dragged his feet to the side of the bed and slowly sat up. His head spun. Standing under the shower normally refreshed him, but this morning his stomach churned. He felt nauseous and his legs felt like jelly, then they went from under him. Sitting on the floor of the shower cubicle with water gushing over his head, he heard his mobile ringing in the distance. Dylan crawled on his hands and knees, grabbed a towel from the radiator, and dried off as best he could. Pulling himself up using the hand-basin, he poured himself a glass of water and sat back down on the floor, sipping it slowly until he began to recover.

Max was in the kitchen eating his food when Dylan opened the kitchen door. He’d not heard Penny return or leave. Even though he didn’t feel like eating, he put two slices of bread in the toaster. His mobile rang again, and he reached into the back pocket of his jeans.

‘How you feeling?’ asked Dawn.

‘Rough.’

‘Well don’t come back and give whatever germs you’ve got to me,’ she laughed. ‘I’ve got some news that might make you feel better though. Forensics ‘ave just called and they tell me that they’ve found a trace of human blood on the wooden shaft of the cane recovered from our Mr Little’s van. And wait for this; it’s enough to do a DNA profile.’ Dylan listened intently. His heart raced. ‘The blood group is ”O positive”, so it’s common, but it’s the same as Christopher’s. They’ve also found traces of skin and blood on the van’s door, so they’re doing the necessary tests on those.’

‘Good, yeah. That is good,’ Dylan said absent-mindedly as his toast popped up out of the toaster. He picked the spots of mould off the crust. ‘Keep me updated, will you? I’m going to stay here today.’

‘Will do. And get yourself right. We may be interviewing again sooner than you think,’ she said cheerfully.

Dylan should have been elated as he stood there buttering his toast, but no way could he raise his game. He walked into the lounge, turned on the television, and flopped on the sofa. Wearing his big woolly jumper and sheepskin slippers, he figured he’d be warm, but it felt like ‘a goose walked over his grave’, as his old mum would have said, and he shivered. Sky’s twenty-four hour news channel droned on in the background and, oddly enough, he found himself enjoying his breakfast. He pulled the dark-brown, fur throw from the back of the settee and covered himself up with it. No sooner had he shut his eyes than his phone rang.

‘Boss, the obs team have lost Little somewhere in Harrowfield town centre,’ Larry told him. ‘And I’ve had to divert staff to the ice rink; a seven-year-old lad’s gone missing. It fits the pattern. Shit.’ Dylan heard a car horn sounding. ‘Get out of the bastard way. Police. It’s an emergency,’ he heard Larry shout.

‘You’re fucking joking.’ Dylan sat bolt upright, discarding his cover.’

‘Not only that, but his name is Troy Sanderson.’

‘Fucking hell. His dad’s name?’

‘Don’t know.’

‘Well, fucking find out. I’m on my way,’ said Dylan.

Dylan’s mobile rang en route. ‘Damn.’ He hadn’t got his hands-free set up. It would have to wait.’

Larry’s screeched his car to a halt. He ran towards the uniformed officers who were in deep discussion with two young girls in the foyer of the ice rink. The girls were tightly grasping each other’s hands, tears trickling down their puffy faces.

‘Has Troy’s description been circulated inside?’ asked Larry.

‘Yes, sir,’ replied a uniformed officer.

Above them the loud speaker buzzed and a lady coughed then spoke. ‘The police are here because a little boy who goes by the name of Troy Sanderson has gone missing. He’s got blonde hair and is wearing a blue tracksuit. He was last seen outside the ice rink about forty minutes ago. Anybody with any information about his whereabouts, please come to the reception desk.’ The tannoy screeched a piercing wail, fingernails down a blackboard, and Larry cringed.

Dylan’s car drew up behind a marked police vehicle with its light still flashing. Getting out, he walked as fast as he could towards the huge glass doors that led from the street to the foyer of the ice rink. He could see Larry leaning on the sweet counter taking notes.

‘Well?’

‘Barry.’

‘Jesus wept. No sign of Troy yet?’ Dylan asked, as he introduced himself to Becky and Carly. Dylan’s mobile rang. He pressed the red button to cancel the call.

‘No, sir, not yet,’ said Larry.

‘Try not to worry,’ Dylan told the two frightened girls. ‘We’re doing our best to find him quickly.’

‘I ‘ope so. My mum’s at work and I’m supposed to be looking after him. She’s going to skin me, isn’t she Carly?’ Becky’s lip quivered.

‘Do you come here often?’ Larry asked. Dylan cringed. ‘Er, I mean ….’

‘Mr Meredith gets school discount for us, so lots of us come every Saturday morning. I need to tell you something, Mister,’ Becky said shyly.

‘I’m all ears.’

‘We were gonna save Troy’s money to get in by sneaking him in the back door,’ she admitted sheepishly.

‘For sweets?’ Larry asked.

‘Cigarettes,’ Carly said quietly. Becky started to cry, sobbing on her best mate’s shoulder.

‘Get Dawn to collect Becky’s mum from work,’ Dylan ordered Larry. ‘Do you know where Mr Meredith is now?’

‘I’ve been told he left for today, sir,’ the uniformed officer said, as he walked in on the conversation.

‘Send a car to Meredith’s house,’ Dylan instructed the officer. ‘Now.’

Becky ran into her mum’s arms.

‘Mrs Sanderson, can we get Mr Sanderson for you?’ Dylan asked as he reached to shake her hand.

‘Penny, please. No, no. We’re divorced,’ she replied.

As Dylan retreated from the group to answer his ringing mobile, he could see Penny gently comforting her daughter while talking to Dawn. There were three missed calls from Jen. Dylan could hear Larry talking on his radio as he approached him. His head was spinning and he swayed, grabbing Larry’s arm to steady himself. ‘Where the fuck is Little? What happened to the obs?’ he asked.