Page 10 of Little Children (Detective Kim Stone #22)

Nine

After a couple of wrong turns, Bryant parked in front of Lewis Stevens’s house on the Wickton Estate.

It was not unlike many of the housing estates back in the Black Country. Built in the sixties, it had welcomed young families who had since outgrown the area and moved on, each generation leaving the place a little shabbier than when they found it.

The boom of the seaside town in the seventies had brought the tourist area ever closer, so that the estate now sat just on the outskirts of the hustle and bustle of the town centre.

Kim already knew from Stacey’s summary that the house was occupied by mum, stepdad and four other children.

The door was opened by, she suspected, the woman of the house.

‘Mrs Stevens?’ Kim asked as both she and Bryant held up their IDs.

The woman was stick thin with short, crudely cut brown hair. Despite the month and temperature, the woman was dressed in a vest top and leggings, accentuating her gaunt frame further.

She nodded, looking from one to the other.

‘May we come in?’ Kim asked as the aroma of something burning wafted past her nose.

‘Who are ya?’ she asked before moving.

‘We’re working with the local team to help find Lewis.’

‘Oh, okay,’ she said, stepping aside. ‘Go back through to the kitchen. I’m cooking the tea.’

Kim did so as two children’s heads popped out of the lounge. She could see there was another one sitting on the sofa watching the TV.

‘Shirl, mek a cuppa, eh?’ shouted a male voice from somewhere out of view.

‘Mek it yourself. I’m cooking, putting the shopping away and I’ve got the coppers here.’

The owner of the voice suddenly appeared.

He couldn’t have been more different to his wife.

He looked to be considerably older, with a messy beard that was compensating for the hair he’d lost from his head.

He was a good foot shorter than his wife and a similar amount wider.

He could only be the stepfather, Bobby Stevens.

‘Who are yer?’ he asked.

‘They’re helping Red and Roy,’ Mrs Stevens said, taking frozen chips out of a Sainsbury’s bag.

Kim was instantly struck by the use of the first name and nickname of the investigating officers.

‘Bloody fuss about nothing,’ Mr Stevens replied, filling the kettle.

‘Out my way,’ his wife said, starting to lay plates on the counter next to the oven.

Although not particularly untidy, it was a kitchen where every space was being used to store something.

Backpacks were stacked on top of the fridge.

Umbrellas wedged between the fridge and the dishwasher. Every space was filled.

‘You think there’s no cause for concern?’ Kim asked, turning her attention to Lewis’s stepdad.

‘He’s run off again, hasn’t he? It’s not the first time. He’ll be back when he’s hungry enough.’

‘He’s done it before?’ Kim asked.

‘Yeah, came back when his mate’s mum kicked him out. Just wait. He’ll be back soon.’

‘Has he ever been gone for ten days?’ Kim pressed.

‘No, but he’s getting older, more resourceful. He’s practically an adult.’

‘He’s twelve,’ Kim said unnecessarily. She was sure he knew the child’s age, but it was as though he needed reminding that Lewis was still a child.

‘You seen twelve-year-olds these days?’ he asked. ‘Trust me, they can survive.’

Kim noticed that his wife was neither agreeing nor disagreeing with his conviction the boy was in no danger. Instead, she was focussed on portioning out chicken nuggets and oven chips onto four plates.

Mr Stevens followed her gaze. ‘Food bill’s gone down a bit since he went.’

‘And you’re his stepfather?’

‘Yeah, known him since he was six, and he’s always been a little shit,’ Stevens said before heading back into the living room.

‘You share your husband’s opinion, Mrs Stevens?’ Kim asked as the woman reached across her to put the plates on the table.

‘I dunno. I don’t know what to think.’ She paused. ‘Kids…tea’s done,’ she called out.

The three that Kim had already seen came careering into the kitchen.

They paid no mind to her and Bryant while seating themselves and reaching for the condiments in the middle of the table.

One plate with a larger portion remained unclaimed on the countertop.

‘Come through,’ the woman said, leading them into the lounge, where she immediately began collecting up toys and straightening cushions.

Mr Stevens shifted so he could see past her to the television screen.

Both Kim and Bryant took a seat on the freshly cleared sofa. She caught the flash of irritation on Mr Stevens’s face. He’d clearly hoped they wouldn’t be staying long or that they would be confined to the other room.

‘Can you tell us what happened the last time you saw Lewis?’ Kim asked as Shirley Stevens took a seat.

Mr Stevens rolled his eyes and lit a cigarette. ‘We’ve been through this a hundred times.’

Mrs Stevens ignored him. ‘It was just like any other day. It was mayhem. Everybody wanted something different for tea. I hadn’t had a chance to do the shopping and?—’

‘Bloody hell, Shirl, tell the truth,’ Mr Stevens said, shaking his head.

At that point, the last of the children appeared. Kim guessed him to be around fifteen. He carried in the last plate from the kitchen, took a seat and glanced at the smoke circulating around his stepfather.

‘If you don’t like it, stay in the bloody kitchen, Kevin.’

Kevin put the tray on his lap and started to eat, while Bobby Stevens extinguished the cigarette anyway.

‘You’re saying that’s not how it was?’ Kim asked the man now sitting forward in his chair.

‘No. They were all being loud and annoying, and Lewis in particular was being a little shit.’

Shirley shot him a look. Kevin carried on eating his tea.

‘I’m not gonna lie just cos the kid has gone off in some big sulk. He was acting up, hitting stuff, and it was only two days after he got suspended.’

‘For what?’ Bryant asked.

‘Fighting,’ Shirley answered. ‘But he was only defending himself.’

Mr Stevens shook his head in despair. ‘She’ll have you believe he’s a bloody angel. He’s not. And the reason she didn’t go shopping was cos we couldn’t afford it. There, now you know,’ he said, turning his attention back to the television.

‘So, he went out?’ Kim asked Mrs Stevens, unsure who was telling the truth. But she wasn’t sure how much it mattered. Lewis was twelve years old, and he was missing.

‘Yeah, I gave him a fiver and told him to go into town,’ she said.

Kim hated the note of judgement that came into her head. Enough money for smokes and to get the kid out of their hair, but not enough to get food.

She pushed the thought out. They still had a son missing, whatever financial decisions they made.

‘Did you know that’s where he’d go?’

She nodded with certainty. ‘Have you seen the place?’

Kim shook her head.

‘You’ll get what I mean.’

‘Had he mentioned anything strange happening before then, like being approached or followed?’

Mrs Stevens shook her head.

‘Any fights with friends?’

‘Kid fights with everybody,’ Mr Stevens offered without taking his eyes from the television.

Shirley Stevens nodded her agreement.

‘Okay. Is there anything else you can think of that might help?’ Kim asked, feeling they were not going to get a whole lot more, as the other three kids came bounding into the room.

Mrs Stevens shook her head as the smallest of the three bounced onto her lap.

‘We’ll show ourselves out,’ Kim said before heading for the door.

She took her time. Something about the meeting had unsettled her.

Mr Stevens seemed to be convinced that Lewis was having them all on and would turn up safe and sound. Shirley Stevens didn’t seem totally convinced, but her husband’s conviction gave her something to hang on to. None of them seemed concerned that the boy had now been gone for ten whole days.

Also, Bobby Stevens didn’t seem to like his stepson very much. Was Lewis really a little shit, or was Bobby’s opinion biased because Lewis wasn’t his son? Neither was the older boy, Kevin, but she hadn’t sensed the same level of hostility between the two of them.

There was something else that occurred to her as she reached the car.

She took a good look around.

‘Where is it all, Bryant?’

‘All what, guv?’

‘Family, friends, neighbours, posters, Facebook pages, GoFundMe campaigns. The works. Where’s the community, the central point for sightings and searches? There’s always someone ready to get it all going. Not one poster. Not one bit of evidence that a child has gone missing.’

She’d seen more activity for a missing dog.

‘Dunno, guv. You think it’s important?’

‘Not sure,’ she said, stepping away from the car. ‘But I think we’d better try and find out.’