Thicker Than Water (13 page)

‘I don’t know,’ he replied, his eyes filling with tears.

Jessica was feeling more and more uncomfortable. ‘Did you come here with someone?’

The boy nodded.

‘Where did you last see them?’

He turned and pointed towards a small play park a few hundred metres away. ‘I was playing there and Mummy said she would be waiting by the gates.’

Although Jessica felt confident dealing with most situations, the one thing that always panicked her was children. She looked at Adam, making sure the child couldn’t see her, and pulled
her best ‘I don’t know what to do’ face, trying to raise her eyebrows in a ‘have you noticed he’s a kid?’ way, just in case that wasn’t apparent.

Adam took the hint and crouched next to her. ‘What’s your name, pal?’ he asked. Was ‘pal’ more of a grooming word than ‘mate’? Either way, Jessica
thought it was a good question, something she certainly would have asked if he had been an adult. She wondered why it had eluded her.

‘Corey.’

It didn’t sound particularly Mancunian, but Jessica assumed at least one of his parents had picked it up from an American or Australian television show. It was one step away from
‘Chad’, ‘Bubba’, ‘Buddy’, or something with ‘the Third’ on the end of it.

‘How old are you, Corey?’ Adam continued.

‘Seven.’

‘Right, shall we go find your mummy?’ Adam held out his hand for Corey to take and then started walking towards the play park.

Jessica felt a little embarrassed at not having thought of the obvious solution herself. As they walked across the grass, Adam kept the boy talking, asking what kinds of things he was interested
in and whereabouts he lived. If he offered the kid sweets, she’d probably have to arrest him.

‘What happened to your hands, Corey?’ Jessica asked.

‘I fell off the swings.’

‘Is that when you went looking for your mum?’

The boy nodded, before Jessica realised Adam was trying to steer the conversation away from anything that could further upset him.

The play area wasn’t full but there were a few dozen children running around. Adam walked around the edge with Corey, looking from side to side and asking if the boy could see his mother.
After one lap, it became clear she wasn’t there. The child had told them his mum had ‘yellow’ hair and was wearing a red coat. Adam suggested that one of them stay with Corey,
while the other went off to check the car park and security office. For a moment, Jessica thought he was going to suggest that she stay but, maybe thanks to the panic on her face, he said he would
wait.

Jessica first checked the car park but, aside from a group of men in football kit changing their shoes, there was no one else around. The park’s office was on the far side of the field,
leaving her navigating around the wettest parts. To make matters worse, after she finally reached the other side, a large sign next to the door read ‘Closed on Sundays’ and the only
person anywhere near her was a man walking a dog.

Jessica used the path to return to the park which was technically a longer route but took less time because she wasn’t having to walk around the squelchy parts of the field.

Any hopes that things would already be resolved were dashed as she arrived back at the play park to see Adam waiting just inside the gate with Corey at his side. She gave a slight shake of her
head as he noticed her but, unfortunately, the child saw it too. Jessica watched his face fall as Adam crouched and rested an arm on his shoulder.

‘I’m sure she’ll be along any minute,’ Adam said as hopefully as he could.

Jessica wanted to ask him what to do next but didn’t want to say it out loud. She could feel the wind getting stronger as a few parents passed her on their way out of the gate, clearly
worried about the gathering clouds overhead. As Jessica turned to watch them go, she saw a woman with blonde hair and a red coat in the distance. She was strolling, chatting to a man who towered
over her.

‘Ad,’ Jess said to get his attention, then nodded in the direction of the couple.

As soon as Corey noticed them, he let out a yelp and began running in their direction. Jessica and Adam followed at a distance and, by the time they had caught up, the child was busy hugging the
woman’s leg.

‘Get off,’ she said irritably.

‘Are you all right, Corey?’ Adam asked.

The boy let go with one arm but held on with the other and turned to face Adam, nodding enthusiastically.

‘Who the fuck are you?’ the woman said in a strong local accent, glaring at Jessica, even though it was Adam who had spoken. In some areas of Manchester, that was as polite a welcome
as you’d get. She was holding a cigarette with one hand and the man had taken a step away.

Jessica was about to respond in kind but Adam got in first. ‘We’ve been waiting with Corey because he fell over and couldn’t find his mother.’ His tone was steady and
calm, definitely not the way Jessica would have replied.

The woman glanced down at her child, then returned to staring at Jessica. ‘Are you all right, Core?’ she asked, without a second look.

‘My hands hurt,’ Corey replied.

His mother still didn’t look down. ‘We’ll have a look when we get home,’ she said, before offering a far more aggressive, ‘What?’ in Jessica’s
direction.

Adam again jumped in ahead of her. ‘Nothing, we’re just glad he found you safely. You’ve got a lovely young man there.’

Finally the woman stopped looking at Jessica, turning towards Adam and sneering, ‘Fuck off, you paedo prick. Is this what you do? Go around touching up kids?’

Jessica watched Corey bury his head further into his mum’s leg, which she twitched to free herself.

The woman turned to leave with a final, ‘And what have I told you about talking to strangers?’ as she started to walk back the way she had come.

Jessica was about to step in but Adam placed one hand on her shoulder. ‘Don’t,’ he said authoritatively. She was stunned not by the way he was holding her, or by what he said,
but instead by the way he said it. She was used to him joking with her, even being jumpy on occasion, but had never heard him speak with such weight.

Once Corey and the two adults were around fifty metres ahead, Adam started following them, Jessica falling in step next to him. ‘Where are we going?’ she asked.

‘I’m hoping she’s going to get into a car and that we can get the number plate,’ Adam said. ‘With that and Corey’s name, you should be able to get her name
and we can get onto social services.’

‘We’re not supposed to use the system for that . . .’

‘You can ask someone senior, though, after what we just saw?’

Adam’s question sounded so matter-of-fact that Jessica couldn’t help but answer positively. As they kept their distance from the couple, she added: ‘How did you know what to
do?’

‘When?’

‘With Corey when we first saw him.’

Adam didn’t break stride, even though it started to spot with rain. ‘I don’t know. How do you know what to do in your job? How do you know what to say when you’re with a
suspect or a victim?’

‘I don’t know . . . I just do.’

‘Exactly.’

‘But he was just a child.’

Jessica glanced sideways and, even though there was a look of serious concentration on Adam’s face, he still broke into a grin. ‘He’s still a person, Jess, just a little one.
You treat them the same. What would you have done if it was a lost adult? You would have found a way.’

Although she started to protest, Jessica stopped herself. Somehow she had reached her mid-thirties without figuring that out. She tried to think of the children she’d had contact with in
the past few years and realised it was only really Izzy’s baby she’d spent even a small amount of time with – and she seemed to sleep a lot. Most of her immediate network of
friends consisted of people who were childless.

Lost in her thoughts, Jessica bumped into the back of Adam as he stopped at the edge of the pathway which led into the car park. He went to move forward but Jessica stopped him.
‘I’ll go.’

Adam sat on the nearby bench as Jessica ducked behind a hatchback and edged around the tarmac. She could see Corey getting into the back seat of a car, his mother standing impatiently next to
him holding the front seat forward. When he was in, she climbed in herself and blew a kiss to the man who had been with her as he got into the adjacent vehicle. Jessica could guess what was going
on and typed both number plates into her phone, thinking she would do a bit of digging and if a social services query didn’t get her anywhere, then there might be an anonymous letter or two
ready to give someone a surprise.

Jessica double-checked she had the right digits as each car pulled away, then stood and walked back to Adam. She was momentarily confused as the bench he had been on was empty but then she saw
him walking away from her towards the play park. Jessica followed quickly, then realised he was talking on his phone. She slowed her pace, although the pitter-patter of the rain was preventing her
from hearing anything. As Adam turned and noticed her, his eyes wide with surprise, she heard him say abruptly, ‘. . . anyway, I can’t talk now. I’ve got to go’, before
stabbing the phone to hang up and pocketing the device.

‘Who was that?’ Jessica asked, trying not to sound as if she was accusing him of anything.

‘No one, just a marketing call.’ Adam locked eyes with her and she knew he was lying. Before she could reply, he added breezily: ‘Did you get the numbers?’

As Jessica stumbled over a response, he stretched out his hand for her to hold and they turned to head home.

The killer had endured a mixed week. What he hadn’t expected was for Kayleigh to spend almost seven days indoors following the discovery of Oliver’s body. He
hadn’t necessarily thought she would return to work straight away but his plans had been put back by the fact she seemingly did not answer the door either. A few days before, he had watched a
postman ring the bell three times before resting on the glass to write out a card and then leaving that. The killer knew the woman was in, yet no one else would have realised that unless they were
watching as closely as he had been.

The only time she had left was to go to the local shop. Even though he had watched her every move, there hadn’t been a time when no other pedestrians were around. He had thought about
simply smashing his way in for a second time but discounted it, assuming she would be far more alert. One quick mobile call from her would be enough to get her taken to safety and ensure he would
not have his opportunity.

Instead, he watched and waited. His vantage point was a little unconventional, the long-closed public toilet block a few hundred metres from Kayleigh’s house. Although it was
uncomfortable, it did at least give him protection. Apart from the odd drunk looking for somewhere to stay when it was raining – and they soon disappeared when he told them what he would do
to them if they didn’t – the killer had the place to himself. Although he could not watch the house twenty-four hours a day, he knew there must soon come a time when Kayleigh went back
to work, giving him the perfect opportunity.

Each morning, he would return to the block and watch until lunchtime. If she had not left by then, he assumed it would be one more day. Finally, she broke her isolation, the killer observing as
she stepped nervously out of the house just as the sun was coming up. He could see her breath flitting into the air as she tested the front door handle half-a-dozen times after locking it. He
didn’t know exactly what shift she was working – but had found out where she worked by checking through her cupboards after leaving Oliver. The mass of carrier bags from one supermarket
under the sink had given him a clue and the nametag she kept in her bedside cabinet almost confirmed it. The fact she wrote ‘work earlies’ or ‘work lates’ on a branded
supermarket calendar, coupled with a spare uniform in her wardrobe, gave him as much verification as he could hope for. He had thought it would be harder, but hunting for payslips or anything more
official hadn’t been needed.

As she finally seemed to accept the door was locked, the killer quickly left the abandoned building and jogged out of sight towards the pavement. By the time she was back in his eye line,
Kayleigh was hurrying away from him towards the main road. He walked as quickly as he could without drawing attention and gradually gained on her. As she turned a corner, he ran to catch up,
slowing back down to a walk as he reached the point where she’d turned.

The distance was barely fifty metres as the killer pulled his hat down and then buried his hands in his pockets. This was about figuring out exactly what ‘work earlies’ entailed and
discovering her method of transport.

Kayleigh checked nervously over her shoulder a few times but he kept his stride, making sure his matched hers and that he didn’t gain, except for when he wanted to.

He followed her across the main road and, as she leant against the glass of a bus stop, the killer slowed his pace until he had no choice but to halt at the same place. Although he didn’t
think she would recognise him, he did at least have the cover of the other four people also waiting. While Kayleigh, second in line, was bobbing nervously from one foot to the other, he waited at
the back and was soon joined by more people.

The killer took great pleasure watching the woman touching her ear and scratching her head nervously. She pulled her coat tighter and continued to stare at the ground until a bus pulled up next
to them. After waiting until she had made a move, he slipped onto the bus, taking time to fumble with change to ensure Kayleigh had found a seat before he turned. She was sitting three rows from
the back, staring at the rail in front and refusing to acknowledge anyone around her, or the surroundings outside the window.

Being careful not to risk any sort of possible recognition, he walked towards the back of the bus while looking out of the opposite window and then slid into the seat behind her. He saw
Kayleigh’s body tense as she felt his presence. Her jumpy movements were so satisfying that he wanted to lean in and smell her. He could practically feel the fear in the air and took enormous
delight from the fact he knew he had caused it. It had been quite an effort to find out where she lived, let alone Ellie Sexton, whose name change had not helped at all. Luckily, people’s
carelessness with social networks and open access to the electoral roll through the Internet had made things easier than he could have imagined. It had still taken plenty of work but had not been
as impossible as he first thought it might be.