DS Jessica Daniel series: Think of the Children / Playing with Fire / Thicker Than Water – Books 4–6 (75 page)

‘Did you check to see if anything was missing?’

‘We went all around the house. All the obvious stuff is here: the televisions, our stereo, things like that. Then we checked the drawers in our bedroom to see if any of Ellie’s
jewellery had gone. None of it is expensive anyway but there’s no reason for a burglar or someone else to know that. I can’t say for certain nothing’s missing but, if it is, we
don’t know what’s gone.’

‘Did you check his phone when you found it?’

Cameron tugged at his eyebrow guiltily. ‘I . . .’

‘You’re not going to be in trouble if you did,’ Jessica assured him. She was hoping there might be an easy solution.

‘I had a look, that’s all, but I couldn’t even get to the keypad bit because it had this lock screen thing. I thought he might have called someone or something like
that.’

Jessica knew their experts would be able to check but it did seem strange that Oliver had left his phone behind when leaving the house.

‘Does anyone else have a key for the property?’ she asked.

Cameron shook his head. ‘Just me and Ellie. We don’t even keep a spare with the neighbours or hidden in the garden. I guess that’s pretty stupid in some ways, if we ever were
to lose ours. We’re not that friendly with the neighbours but would be able to call them in an emergency. It’s not that we don’t get on, we just don’t talk that much.’
He pointed to one side, then the other. ‘They moved in about six months ago, while they’ve been here for years. You wave to say hello but that’s about it.’

Jessica knew it was pretty much the same everywhere. After she had moved into her old flat, her father had told her during one of their almost-regular phone conversations to go and meet the
neighbours. He had then told her off when she admitted two weeks later that she hadn’t bothered. ‘That’s why the country’s going to the dogs,’ he insisted. Jessica
didn’t necessarily disagree but, dogs or not, she still couldn’t be bothered with saying hello to complete strangers.

After checking they had the correct details for all the timings, the officers said their goodbyes and indicated they would be in contact when they had news.

Back in the car, any awkwardness had disappeared. ‘What do you reckon?’ Izzy asked as Jessica drove.

Jessica began to speak then stopped herself. ‘You tell me. First day back, let’s see how much you’ve forgotten.’

Izzy laughed. ‘Well, I believe him for a start. He didn’t look shifty as such, just uncomfortable.’

‘They’ve probably chopped him up and buried him under the patio,’ Jessica replied, joking.

Izzy didn’t laugh. ‘Why send us? Why not uniform?’

‘I don’t know but I can guess it’s the usual reason – covering our arses. There’s no point in sending a Scene of Crime team because, as far as we can tell, no crime
has taken place. Nothing’s been taken, the child is still there. On the surface, it’s just a teenager who has disappeared – and he’s not even been gone that long. The only
problem is, if something major has happened and we hadn’t looked into this stuff now, we’d get huge stick in the future. If Oliver turns up tomorrow and he’s just stormed out
after an argument with his girlfriend, then no harm done.’

‘Is that what you think has happened?’

Jessica didn’t speak for a moment, not because she didn’t know her own mind, simply because saying it out loud made it seem more real.

‘I think someone’s taken him.’

Jessica had no firm reasons for thinking someone had taken Oliver but had worked on enough cases, and interviewed enough people, to recognise the high likelihood that something
bad had happened. Without knowing much about the teenager, she could guess his type simply because of who Cameron and Eleanor were. They weren’t the sort of people who would dump their
daughter with anyone, which meant Oliver must at least appear to be conscientious and mature. Still, some people probably thought that about her, so that in itself didn’t prove much.

When she had been younger, she could vaguely remember the daughter of their old next-door neighbours coming to keep an eye on her every now and then. Usually, it involved the babysitter letting
her stay up slightly later ‘as long as you don’t tell your mum and dad’ and then, presumably, the girl sitting downstairs watching television and drinking copious amounts of
alcohol before hiding the evidence. Regardless of the small amount of work involved, it was still a position of trust and, while some parents might be happy to leave their children unsupervised or
with someone unsuitable, the Sextons certainly did not fall into that category.

Oliver’s parents were everything Jessica expected them to be. Their semi-detached house was immaculately kept with a nearly new car on the driveway. Owen Gordon was dressed in almost
identical clothes to Cameron and his wife Gabrielle was the epitome of middle-class with dyed hair, perfectly manicured nails and the vague air that she could be worked up into a moral outrage
about pretty much anything.

After the two officers were invited into the Gordons’ house, Jessica eyed the surroundings. She could guess from the walls that Oliver was an only child – and a spoiled one at that.
There were photos of him at every age all over the hallway, with nothing of anyone else.

In the living room, after confirming much of what she had already been told by Cameron, Jessica moved the topic from the events of the previous evening to Oliver himself. Both of his parents
insisted he had been acting normally over the past few days.

They were sitting closely together on the sofa, with Owen holding an arm around his wife’s shoulders. She was close to tears. He clutched a tissue in one hand, nervously brushing at
seemingly invisible flecks of dust on the armrest with the other.

‘Has he ever not returned home in the past?’ Jessica asked.

‘Never,’ Owen replied. ‘He isn’t late for anything.’

Jessica had expected as much. She had no reason to believe there was anything untoward from the response – but her parents never knew about the odd occasion she bunked off college with her
friend Caroline when they were younger. Teenagers always kept some things back from their parents.

‘Does he have many friends who might know where he’s gone?’ she added.

Oliver’s parents could only offer two names between them. ‘We called them last night and this morning,’ Owen said. ‘Ollie was always good about leaving details just in
case.’

After confirming the young man had no particular after-school interests and no part-time job, Jessica was left wondering what he actually did when he wasn’t studying or in his bedroom.
From what she had been able to gather, Oliver only had two close friends and rarely left the house. Her standard questions about whether he had ever run away before, or whether they had fallen out
recently, were all met with firm denials.

If everything was as claimed, Oliver had been an angelic child since birth who never got into trouble.

‘Does he have a girlfriend?’ Jessica persisted, desperately trying to hear something she could work with.

‘He’s focused on his studying,’ Gabrielle insisted, leaving Jessica to wonder if the woman remembered being a teenager herself. Admittedly Jessica hadn’t been a young
male but, from her recollection, seventeen-year-old boys usually only had one thing on their minds – and it certainly wasn’t college work.

Although it wasn’t something she would usually push, Jessica wanted to see if she could get a reaction. ‘Boyfriend?’ she asked, making sure she met both parents’ eyes.
She saw a second or two of panic in Owen’s face before he stumbled over a reply.

‘I don’t think he’s into that,’ he said, before clarifying quickly, ‘not that it would be a problem.’

‘I’m just trying to establish something that may have made him upset,’ Jessica said, trying to stay empathetic. ‘Usually when teenagers disappear, it might be because
they’ve fallen out with someone, maybe a friend or a parent. Or perhaps they are worried about something?’

Both parents looked on blankly.

‘Do you mind if we have a look around his room?’ Jessica asked. ‘I know you’ve probably checked already. We’re looking for anything that could help.’

Owen untangled his arm from his wife and stood, pointing towards the door, before leading them up a flight of stairs. More photos of Oliver lined the walls: there he was on the beach, in a park,
in the garden. Always by himself, always smiling. As they reached the top, the man must have noticed Jessica’s interest because he answered the question she hadn’t asked.

‘There were complications when he was born,’ Owen said. ‘Gabby couldn’t have any more children after Oliver. I know you probably think we’re a bit over-protective
but he’s our only child.’ He tailed off before adding: ‘He’s all we have.’

Jessica felt Izzy’s hand touch her gently on the back. No one spoke for a few moments before Owen turned and pointed to a doorway.

‘It’s that room there,’ he said.

The two officers entered and then waited until they had heard the man reach the bottom of the stairs.

‘Are you all right?’ Jessica asked.

Izzy pressed herself up against the back of the door. ‘It’s hard to describe. It’s probably because I’ve been off for so long but, before, it was easier to take a step
back and see everything as a case. Now, everyone is someone else’s child.’ She ran her hands through her hair and shook her head dismissively, as if telling herself not to be so stupid.
‘What are we looking for?’

They both knew the question was rhetorical and Jessica didn’t reply. Instead, she stood in the corner and took in the room.

The walls were clear, except for two posters; one that seemed to relate to a video game, the other a print of a Salvador Dalí painting. Oliver had a king-size bed to himself, which was
facing a flatscreen television on top of a wide dresser with a games console next to it. A few hardback books were on a bookcase in the opposite corner with a small telescope, but it was mainly
occupied by stacks of films as well as a few computer games.

‘Tidy, isn’t it?’ Izzy said.

‘My personal hell,’ Jessica replied. ‘I don’t know what kind of person can put everything away neatly. It’s unnatural.’

As if to emphasise the point, she slid back the door on a wardrobe to reveal orderly rows of shoes and trainers underneath lines of shirts that had been ironed and hung.

‘Anything?’ Izzy asked as she poked through a drawer underneath the television.

‘No – everything’s on a computer or phone nowadays. If he’s still missing in a day or two, we’ll have to get the tech guys in.’

‘We’re wasting our time, aren’t we?’

Jessica sat on the bed, almost bouncing because of the softness of the mattress. ‘Maybe; at least we’ve got a good idea of what he’s like. I reckon his mum still cleans his
room, so I doubt he’d leave anything dodgy around. Also, look at the movies, they all have safe age ratings. There’s the odd fifteen or eighteen, but they are mainly things which
wouldn’t offend.’ Jessica stopped to feel under the pillow and run her hand along the length of the mattress. ‘I don’t know the kid but it all seems a bit too
homely.’

Izzy had turned around to face Jessica and was leaning against the dresser. ‘You’re very cynical,’ she said. Whether it was deliberate or not, Jessica thought her
friend’s tone sounded a little harsher than usual.

Before she could reply, the constable apologised. ‘I didn’t mean it like that. I just thought that, maybe, it’s nothing to do with Oliver at all. Say he is a bit naive, maybe
that’s what attracts other people who might want to harm him? Or use him for something? We don’t know if he left the Sextons’ house voluntarily, if he was taken, or if something
else happened.’

‘Actually, that’s exactly what I was thinking too.’

‘Really? I know what you said in the car but I thought that, with the questions downstairs, plus the room, it sounded like you were saying he couldn’t be
that
sheltered. I
thought you were hinting that Oliver was up to something?’

Jessica shrugged. ‘Maybe he is but I doubt it. I think that’s why Jack sent us out here.’

Izzy picked up a snow globe from next to the television and tipped it upside down, before turning it over. ‘Adam’s changed you,’ she said with a smirk.

‘Bollocks he has.’

The constable laughed. ‘Before you would’ve been annoyed at Jack, wondering why he was sending you out to a missing persons case after less than a day. Then you would have been
suspicious of Cameron, wondering if he or his wife had somehow killed Oliver – not just joking, really speculating about it. Or thinking it was a big set-up. Then you would have come here and
kicked up a stink. Now you take a step back and absorb it all.’

Jessica felt defensive. ‘Are you saying I’ve lost my instinct?’

Izzy put the snow globe back down and paced across to the window. ‘The opposite, actually. I’m saying it’s better because, instead of barrelling in, you’re a little more
. . .
refined
.’

Arching her eyebrows, Jessica replied: ‘Refined means boring.’

The constable laughed again. ‘Only you could think that. Maybe you haven’t changed after all.’

Jessica patted the corners of the sheets back into the bed to ensure she hadn’t made too much of a mess. She had a look underneath but there wasn’t even a rogue pair of shoes, let
alone a stack of animal porn or snuff videos. She didn’t want to rummage too deeply through the teenager’s possessions but a quick glance through the dresser and the rest of the
wardrobe revealed nothing interesting, aside from the fact that he folded his boxer shorts too neatly.

Izzy was in the process of checking each of the film cases individually when Jessica stopped her. ‘We may as well go. There’s not much we can do here. We’ll have to talk to his
friends and then check whatever CCTV we have from the streets near the other house to see if he was caught anywhere.’

‘His poor parents.’

Jessica let the words hang for a few moments. ‘What’s it like being a mum?’ she asked.

Izzy grinned, although her eyes looked tired. ‘It’s great. I never thought I’d want kids, it was always Mal. But now, I can’t think of a world without Amber.’