‘She wouldn’t hurt him,’ Breeley said but there was a hint of uncertainty in his voice.
‘She’s grieving. She’s lost a child and taken a replacement. Mandy’s on the run. She knows we’ve arrested you. The game’s up. When things are that bad it can feel like there’s only one way out. Are you willing to take that risk. With Sammy? With Aidan?’ Janine spoke quietly, firmly. ‘Too late, she said. But it needn’t be.’
Joe Breeley hesitated, obviously torn.
‘Come on, Joe. We need your help. Aidan needs your help. Wherever she is headed, she can’t hide, not on her own, not with two children. I’m concerned for her safety and the children’s safety. For Aidan.’
‘I told you, she wouldn’t hurt him,’ he said.
‘How can you be sure, she’s never been in this situation before. She knows that we’ve arrested you, she probably understands it is only a matter of time before we work out what has happened. Where is she going?’
‘I can’t,’ he said.
‘It’s better this way, believe me. You’ve already lost John, let’s keep everyone else safe. Mandy can’t do this on her own. She won’t be thinking straight. She knows you’ve been arrested, she knows you’ll be charged and remanded awaiting trial. You’ll probably be convicted. You won’t be there for her, the only thing you could do now is help us so we can reach her and bring them all back safe. Please help us do that.’
He shuddered, the motion shaking his shoulders and arms, rippling through his face. He put his hands to his head then said quietly, ‘Isle of Man. She’s cousins in Douglas. We used to talk about moving there. She thought it’d be a better place to bring up the kids.’
‘Thank you. How do you usually get there?’ Janine said.
‘The ferry from Liverpool,’ he answered.
Janine asked Richard and Butchers to remain with Joe Breeley and took Shap with her to try and intercept Mandy at the ferry.
‘We should be with you in about thirty minutes,’ Janine said to a contact in the port police. ‘Mandy Breeley could be volatile. She’s grief-stricken and she may be feeling desperate. We’re faxing descriptions over for you. Let her board. Try not to do anything to spook her. Can you instruct your people not to approach her?’ He agreed and assured her that the harbour master was prepared to delay sailing if necessary.
Shap was a good driver at speed and as the car raced along the M62 with an escort ahead to clear the traffic, Janine tried to ease the tension twisting in her guts. She wanted to be there now, faster, sooner. Her stomach was a heavy ball, her back stiff, even her fingers and toes felt locked, rigid. What if they were too late? Mandy’s words: Too late. When the prospect of saving Sammy was in sight, what if it was snatched away? The Wrays would never survive that and Janine didn’t think she would either.
She spoke to a hostage negotiator and gave him a summary of the situation. He said he’d meet them at the terminal as soon as possible but roadworks on his journey south might affect his expected arrival time.
At last the terminal came into view. They passed the cargo container depot with its massive stacks of metal boxes, followed the plethora of signage directing traffic to parking, loading and ferry-boarding areas. Overhead, gulls wheeled and shrieked and a fierce wind snatched at flags and litter. With their lights and sirens off, the unmarked cars drew up close to the ship itself.
Janine and Shap were greeted by the port police officer who was expecting them. Janine shook hands with him.
‘We’ve done a discreet search,’ he said, ‘she’s on the top deck. Coastguard standing by.’
‘Thanks,’ Janine said, ‘social workers should be here anytime.’
‘No negotiator yet?’ he asked.
‘On their way,’ Janine said, ‘the traffic’s bad, an incident on the M6.’ Janine didn’t want to wait, felt that the outcome could be worse if they delayed and Mandy began to suspect something was wrong. She thought for a moment and then said, ‘I know the situation. I’ve met her before. She might talk to me.’
He nodded.
‘We go up,’ she said, ‘when I find her if we can clear that deck…’
‘Sure, I’ll brief these guys,’ he nodded to his officers.
When everyone was clear on the strategy, Janine and Shap climbed the stairwells between the decks followed by the port officers. The ferry was busy with travellers: a stag party dressed in monkey outfits, families of all shapes and sizes, couples and solo travellers. Janine caught a whiff of hot fat and sugar from one of the cafés on board, mingled with the oily smell of diesel.
When they reached the top deck the wind was even fiercer. Janine saw Mandy at the far end, at the rail looking out to sea, Aidan in her arms, a baby feed and changing bag over her shoulder. Sammy was beside her, holding her hand. Sammy wore different clothes but had his red shoes on and his glasses.
Janine nodded and Shap with the port officers assisting him began to approach the other passengers and quietly ask them to go downstairs, making sure that no-one passed Mandy and alerted her to the evacuation. The wind helped them, masking the noise of people moving.
Soon they were alone and Janine walked closer to Mandy. She was perhaps ten yards away when Mandy turned, panic stark in her face as she caught sight of Janine. Mandy scooped up Sammy and began to retreat, edging along the perimeter of the deck.
‘Mandy. Are you OK?’ Janine said. She kept moving trying to narrow the distance between them.
‘Go away,’ Mandy said.
‘We know about John,’ Janine said, ‘I am so sorry. You must miss him terribly.’
‘He’s fine,’ Mandy glanced at the boy in her arms. ‘Aren’t you, love? We’re fine. Just leave us alone.’ The wind whipped at her hair.
‘That’s not John. That’s Sammy. He hasn’t been ill with chickenpox. He’s sad and he’s frightened and he misses his mum,’ Janine said.
‘I don’t know what you’re on about,’ Mandy said.
‘You saw him at the park. T-shirt just like John’s. Same age, looked alike, that blonde hair. John had gone but you wanted him back. It hurt so much, didn’t it?’ Janine said.
Mandy started to cry.
‘It can’t work – a secret like that. That’s Sammy, isn’t it?’ Janine said.
Mandy didn’t speak, her mouth trembled.
‘Mandy?’
The woman nodded, but she was still holding on tight to Sammy. She looked down at the freezing water. Janine’s chest tightened. Janine didn’t know enough about Mandy, about her history, her previous mental health, to know what she was thinking but given what Mandy had been through she must be disturbed. Anyone would be, to see her husband kill her first son, to have to relinquish him, to keep the ghastly deed a secret and play happy families whenever the police called round, to snatch Sammy and cope with the fear she must have felt every time someone came to the house.
‘Joe told us what he did,’ Janine kept talking, edging closer, keeping her voice as low as possible but fighting to be heard above the wind. ‘You weren’t there. You’d have stopped him. You love them. John and Aidan. I can see that. It was Joe, just Joe. He’d done it before.’
Mandy frowned.
‘When he was a child himself. His brother. And now his boy,’ Janine said. If she could just get her talking, interacting. Janine had done a basic course in hostage negotiation, you started by communicating, by interacting, by listening and empathising and enabling the person to open up to you.
‘No. It’s not like that,’ Mandy said.
‘Tell me,’ Janine said.
‘I wanted to get an ambulance,’ Mandy said, ‘to get help, but he wasn’t moving.’ Janine thought of her holding her child through that long, dark night. Feeling his lifeless body grow cold, then stiffen, the colour fade from his skin. Mandy hitched Aidan higher up on her shoulder. ‘He just snapped, he’s not a bad man, he has a temper but he’s not a bad man. I was late back. Joe said we’d lose it all. With his brother, it was an accident, but they still put Joe in care, his mother left… Joe said he’d go down for it, and they’d take Aidan away… we’d lose everything… he was so sorry. Now, it’s even worse – we’ve lost everything, anyway. There’s nothing left.’ Sammy began to grizzle and wriggled in her arms. She couldn’t hold both children indefinitely.