Clive Wray passed Claire a drink but her hand was shaking too badly to take hold of it.
‘I know you’ve already made statements to the missing person’s inquiry but as circumstances have changed we need to look at everything again. Can we do that now? Or we can take a break and come back later,’ Janine said.
‘Now,’ Claire Wray said.
‘Claire?’ Clive looked at her, obviously concerned for her emotional state.
‘Now,’ Claire said again, steel in her voice. Was it just determination or was some of that metal directed at her husband? The loss of a child often tore relationships apart. Was that already happening for the Wrays?
Janine nodded her agreement and opened her briefcase, got out her daybook to record notes. Clive sat down beside his wife on the sofa.
‘Can you describe for me what Sammy was wearing on the Saturday he went missing?’ Janine said.
‘His navy trousers, a dinosaur T-shirt. Red shoes.’ She looked at Janine, a flicker of hope, as if Janine would suddenly tell her those didn’t fit with what they had found. Janine didn’t evade that look but she answered it with one of regret.
‘You went to the park,’ Richard prompted her.
‘About quarter to one. He loves the slide. One minute he was-’ she faltered. ‘I only turned round for a minute and he was gone.’
‘Then you raised the alarm,’ Richard said.
Claire said, ‘Yes. I looked round the park, I ran back here. There was no sign and I called the police.’
Richard turned to Clive, ‘And you arrived home-?’
‘At four. The police were here, I couldn’t… you never imagine…’ he said as if re-living the shock of it. Then the reality of the new nightmare hit him. ‘Oh, God.’
‘You’d been walking?’ said Janine.
‘Up Kinder Scout, Hayfield,’ Clive said.
‘On your own?’
‘Yes.’
‘Can you think of anyone who could verify that?’ Janine said.
There was a horrible silence and Clive Wray stared at her as he recognised the implication behind the question.
‘It would help us eliminate you from the inquiry,’ she said, ‘ I realise that may seem insensitive but it is routine procedure. If you can think of anybody-’
‘No,’ he said quickly, ‘it was pretty quiet. I passed a few other walkers but they were strangers. I’ve no idea how you’d contact them.’
Claire started crying again. Clive Wray made a move to comfort her, his arm reaching out but she froze at his touch, shrank away and he let his arm fall.
Leaving the Wrays, as Janine was putting her case in the back of the car she found one of Charlotte’s shoes there, and some crayons. For a giddy moment Janine imagined Charlotte lost, missing, hurt. There but for the… No point in dwelling on it. Janine’s job now was to use all her professional skill and that of her team to find out who killed Sammy Wray. And her integrity, her dedication was all she could offer the Wrays. Empathy yes but not sentimentality.
‘Odd atmosphere, didn’t you think? Lot of tension,’ said Janine.
‘What d’you expect?’ Richard said.
‘Not directed at us, though; with each other,’ she said.
‘Could have been having problems before this,’ Richard said. ‘Don’t they reckon having a child stresses a relationship?’
Sure does. Janine knew how the business of sharing the care of children was fertile ground for spats and resentment between her and Pete both before and after the separation. That old chestnut of both people working full-time but the woman also doing the bulk of the parenting and the housework. Did Claire still work full-time now they had Sammy? Maybe she was a stay-at-home mum. All the family background would be in the files from the missing person case. She’d have to get up to speed on it to brief her team.
‘Maybe she blames Clive for not being there,’ Richard said.
‘Or he blames Claire for losing Sammy,’ Richard said.
‘Yes,’ she said. Janine’s stomach flipped over as she remembered one time when she had lost Tom. She had taken the kids to the Trafford centre. It was BT (before Tina as she thought of it) and BC (before Charlotte). Eleanor had helped herself to some sparkly crayons in the stationery shop, which Janine only realised once they had moved on to the gaming place. Michael was absorbed in playing the games and Janine told Tom to stay with his big brother while she took Eleanor to give back the stolen goods.
On their return, with Eleanor bawling, Janine found Michael, slack jawed and glazed eyes, trying a shoot-em-up game, and no sign of Tom.
Janine’s blood had turned to ice. Tom was found, none the worse for wear, after the security staff were alerted and announcements made. He’d gone looking for candy floss.
Pete never blamed her, not for that, but she blamed herself. Pete’s blame centred on how much her job impacted on her time at home. But Janine loved her job, just as she loved her kids, and refused to let Pete guilt trip her about it. She could do that all by herself on a bad day, thank you very much.
Chapter 3
While the incident room was being set up, Janine familiarised herself with the files on Sammy Wray. She passed eyewitness statements from the park to her sergeants, Shap and Butchers, to read and asked Richard to liaise with the crime scene manager and the CSIs for any information emerging from the scene. Then Janine attended the post mortem.
There was an understandable pathos to the sight of such a small figure on the table.
‘No trousers, no shoes,’ Janine observed as the pathologist’s assistant photographed the child first wrapped in the torn sheet, then with the sheet removed in a T-shirt and underpants.
‘No, no socks either,’ the pathologist said.
All sorts of debris had clung to the sheet and the exposed parts of the victim from the filthy sewer water.
Janine waited patiently while more photographs were taken and notes made of the external appearance of the child. X-rays were taken too before the internal examination began. Janine was there for confirmation of the cause of death and she soon got her answer. A substantial fracture to the back of the skull had killed the child.
‘It’s over a wide area, so we’re looking at impact with a large item,’ the pathologist said.
‘A brick?’ Janine asked, thinking of where the body was found, the building materials to hand.
‘Don’t think so, no linear edge and no brick dust in the scalp which I’d expect. I’ve seen injuries like this before with falls or where a child’s been swung against the wall.’
Janine steadied herself. ‘So, we’re not looking for a weapon as such?’
‘No.’
‘Any sign of sexual abuse?’
‘No.’
‘The other damage?’ Janine said.
‘I’ve more tests to do but I’d say almost certainly post-mortem, and all consistent with the site where the victim was found, the sewer.’
That was something, Janine thought. Whoever had snatched Sammy Wray had not tortured or raped him.
‘If you find any trace material on the body that might be significant, will you let me know straightaway?’ Janine said.
Butchers had only nipped out for a butty but when he returned his heart sank. His desk was decorated with helium balloons, a joke gallows and noose and an inflatable plastic diamond ring. It was common knowledge then.
He should never have mentioned it to Shap. In fact he never intended to but Shap had a way of worming things out of a person, tricking you into saying more than you intended. A handy talent for a copper, but a pain in the arse when you were the fall guy who found all your best kept secrets dragged into the light for all to see.
Shap’s eyes lit up as he saw Butchers was back and he said, ‘She called it off yet? You wanna get the rock back if she does, mate. Stick that in the pre-nuptials.’
‘Who’ve you told?’ Butchers said. ‘Have you told everyone?’