Page 35 of Little Children (Detective Kim Stone #22)

Thirty-Four

Penn knew that his task with Dickinson was two-fold. No one had managed to get a read on this particular officer yet. He spent a great deal of time listening but not much talking. And the second objective was to observe Noah’s parents and see if anything stood out as suspicious.

Thinking of suspicious behaviour, Penn decided to remain quiet on the journey to the Reid family home.

If the moment they were alone he started firing questions at Dickinson, there was a chance he could blow their whole cover.

He also had to take time to slide into the persona he’d been instructed to adopt.

The role of ambitious young officer wasn’t as big a stretch of the imagination as the one Bryant was being asked to convey, but it was still pretty alien.

Ambition had never been part of his make-up.

He’d never been competitive and had always focussed on the journey, not the destination.

If he enjoyed something, he did it, but he didn’t feel the need to win at it.

So far, Dickinson had hardly spoken to any member of the team, barely even looking their way unless he had to. Penn had to tread carefully.

No words had been exchanged by the time Dickinson pulled up outside a semi-detached property with a double drive just three miles out of Blackpool.

‘Let me do the talking, okay?’ Dickinson said as they got out of the car.

‘Of course,’ Penn answered. He knew next to nothing about the case anyway.

The door was answered before they got anywhere near it.

‘Mr Reid,’ Dickinson said, holding out his hand.

The man shook it while never taking his eyes from Dickinson’s face.

Dickinson shook his head as Mrs Reid appeared beside her husband. A small sob escaped from the woman’s lips as they let him into the house. They followed them down the corridor into the kitchen, Dickinson introducing Penn as they went.

‘Why would someone from Birmingham be interested in Noah?’ Mr Reid asked as he reached for the kettle.

‘Not for me,’ Dickinson said, holding up his hand. ‘It’s more of an observation exercise. The Birmingham team have little to do with Noah’s case. That’s being handled by the officers you know.’

Both parents appeared reassured by that fact, and Penn fought the urge to clarify that the Black Country was not Birmingham. Although factually correct, Noah’s parents wouldn’t give a shit.

‘I just wanted to drop in and catch up. Are you sure you won’t consider a family liaison officer? They could…’

‘No,’ Mrs Reid said emphatically. ‘I don’t want a stranger in my house. The place feels weird enough.’

From the photos on the wall, it appeared that Noah was an only child, so unlike with the Stevens family, there wasn’t even the distraction of other children running around.

Dickinson took a seat at the kitchen table opposite Mrs Reid, while Mr Reid remained close to the kettle. Making drinks was the most common displacement activity, regardless of the situation.

‘He’s going to be out there again tonight, isn’t he?’ Mrs Reid said, glancing towards the kitchen window, where darkness had now fallen.

Dickinson neither denied nor confirmed it.

‘Every officer working is looking out for him, and our enquiries continue through the night. We have people talking to shop and restaurant staff, and we’re uncovering more potential witnesses all the time.

It only takes one person to have seen something, and?—’

‘I still don’t get it,’ Mr Reid said, shaking his head. ‘You say he left the pier and we were right across the road. How could he just disappear?’

Penn didn’t feel like the man was expecting an answer to the thoughts he was letting come out of his mouth.

‘He’s not going to do well, you know,’ Mrs Reid said, clasping her hands together. ‘He’s not a tough boy. He’s never had to fend for himself. He’s eleven. He only just started high school. He’s never even been camping.’ Tears were gathering in her eyes.

Mr Reid left the kettle and took a seat beside his wife, his face full of concern and fear. ‘It’s okay, love. They’ll find him. And he’s stronger than you think,’ he soothed her, taking her hand.

‘But this’ll be his third night,’ she said, turning towards her husband. ‘He’s never been away from us for that?—’

Her words were cut off as Mr Reid pulled his wife into his chest and allowed her to sob against him.

‘We won’t intrude any further,’ Dickinson said, getting to his feet. ‘I just wanted to reassure you again that we are doing everything we can to find Noah and to let you know we’re here to support you too. The minute we find out anything, you’ll be the first to know.’

Mrs Reid removed her head from her husband’s chest. ‘Thank you.’

‘We’re going to find him, Mrs Reid,’ Dickinson said, touching her arm lightly before stepping out of the room.

Penn followed the detective out of the house, wondering if that was the kind of promise he should be making. But what else was one to say in this situation?

As he got in the car, Penn observed that there seemed to be a marked difference between the treatment of the Stevens family and the Reids.

To his knowledge, there was no nightly visit to offer an update to the Stevens family, nor even regular phone calls.

He had to wonder where that directive had come from.

Nothing in that house had troubled the hackles on the back of his neck. The parents’ appearance was in stark contrast to that of Bobby and Shirley Stevens’s behaviour, but so was the treatment being afforded them.

He’d pass on his observations to his boss in the morning, but in the meantime he had a second task to attend to.

Once Dickinson pulled away from the house, Penn took out his phone and began to scroll. ‘Damn,’ he cursed under his breath.

‘Everything okay?’

Penn sighed and put his phone away. ‘Yeah, just missed a deadline on a job opportunity.’

‘You not happy where you are?’ Dickinson asked, taking the bait.

He shrugged. ‘They’re not bad, but I’m not emotionally attached if that’s what you mean. No room for upward movement, and it’s getting a bit stale.’ He was trying hard not to overplay his hand and let Dickinson do some of the heavy lifting.

‘You want DI?’ Dickinson asked.

‘Of course. Don’t you?’

Now it was Dickinson’s turn to shrug. ‘I’m thirty-two. I’ve got plenty of time.’

‘Nah, I can’t be thinking like that,’ Penn said. ‘I want DI by thirty-five and DCI by forty. Never gonna happen if I spend too much time in one place.’

‘You seem pretty tight with Wood though,’ Dickinson said.

Penn laughed. ‘I’m tight with anyone who suits my purpose, and I try to keep on the good side of my boss. A recommendation from my DI would go a long way, so I’ve gotta keep her sweet.’

Penn could see from the pinched expression on the other man’s face that this was going nowhere. Dickinson wasn’t identifying with the character he was playing.

‘It’s not for everyone,’ Penn continued. ‘Some folks don’t want the added paperwork or headaches. I kinda wish I’d found a team where I wanted to stay long term.’

‘Sometimes acceptance amongst the majority of your colleagues means more than a few extra quid in your pocket.’

‘Oh yeah, couldn’t agree more,’ Penn said, reading between the lines.

He suspected Dickinson was gay, and his team knew it.

His first impression of the man had played into the stereotype, which had made him careful not to attach any label to the guy.

Taking good care of your hair and skin didn’t automatically mean the man was gay, but it seemed that, on this occasion, his gaydar had been tuned in well.

Secretly, he totally understood the comfort and security of finding such a team, but he couldn’t admit that in the role he was playing. ‘Good for you. Moss doesn’t seem much like the accepting kind though.’

‘Roy doesn’t know everything about everybody,’ Dickinson said tightly, telling Penn that he knew exactly how Moss would react to the news and that he’d never have a minute’s peace going forward.

‘Yeah, we’ve all got our old-school coppers, but they’re all gonna die off eventually,’ he offered as Dickinson pulled into the Blackpool station car park.

‘Not totally convinced we should have to wait for bigotry and racism to retire,’ Dickinson replied with an edge to his voice.

‘Yep, there should be a better way. But while they’re clean and doing a decent job…’

‘And what if they’re not?’ Dickinson asked, pulling alongside Penn’s car.

‘Then I suppose we’ve all gotta do what we gotta do,’ Penn said, opening the car door.

He stepped out and pushed the door shut, waving as Dickinson pulled away, but the detective seemed focussed only on driving.

Penn opened the door to his own car and couldn’t help wondering one thing after that conversation. He’d discovered that, on the face of it, Dickinson was a loyal team member who didn’t have the stomach for bad policing.

But was there any chance at all that he’d just found their snitch?