Page 18 of Stolen Ones

The door was opened by an overweight male with thinning dark hair and a couple of days’ growth of facial hair.

He eyed them suspiciously as he continued to chew the food in his mouth.

They both produced their ID, and Kim introduced them.

‘Whaddya want?’ he asked, swallowing his last mouthful of food.

Kim swallowed with him but in her mouth was a generous portion of distaste.

‘To speak to Lyla Jones. She does live here, right?’

‘Whatabout?’ he asked as one word, which did confirm that they were in the right place. His tongue was darting around his mouth as though searching out morsels that had got lost.

‘May we speak with Lyla?’ Kim asked. ‘It’s about Melody.’

He stopped chewing to step aside and point to an open door.

Kim stepped around two bulging bin liners to enter a cramped and over-furnished lounge.

In stark comparison to her son, Lyla Jones was stick thin. She sat in a single easy chair directly in front of a large-screen TV that was out of proportion with the size of the room.

To her left was a side table holding a plate with crusty, dried-on gravy and food scraps.

Bryant offered his hand and an introduction as Kim looked around for somewhere to sit.

‘Robbie, get Bess in,’ Lyla said, taking her plate from the side table and lowering it to the floor.

Robbie disappeared only to be replaced by a bounding cream Labrador, who paid no attention to them and headed straight for the plate on the floor.

‘Mrs Jones, we’re here to talk about Melody.’

‘You found her?’ she asked automatically. Her tone held neither hope nor expectation.

Kim reminded herself that it had been twenty-five years and it was a relief that she wasn’t having to manage expectations. Just because it was the twenty-fifth anniversary of Melody’s disappearance didn’t mean her body was suddenly going to come to light, as though it had been on a timer. The woman had been forced to face reality with every passing year.

‘We just wanted to assure you that we’re still looking and that we haven’t given up on trying to bring closure to you and your family. We know you’ve appealed for information about her disappearance on a regular basis over the years.’

Lyla reached down and retrieved the dinner plate that had been licked clean by the dog that now lay at her feet.

‘Well, they ask every now and then to do reports on our Melody, the papers, magazines, TV shows, and they pay expenses and stuff. It all helps out, you know. But I hope you ain’t here to quiz me about it again. I can barely remember what I had for me tea last night, never mind all that time ago.’

Kim wasn’t sure she’d ever heard a missing child compared to a plate of food before. It had been over thirty years since her brother had died of starvation in her arms, but she hadn’t forgotten a minute of that day.

‘Can you tell us what you do remember, Mrs Jones?’ Kim asked. The detail, if she wanted it, could be gained from the files but she was interested in the memory Lyla had. She was feeling the ‘offness’ in waves. It was as though they were talking about a lost dog.

‘It was like any other school holiday day: too many kids and not enough space in a three-bed maisonette. When one kid or another asked if they could go out and play, the answer was yes. It wore like it is today. Kids went and called for each other. They got up to mischief and came back dirty and ready for their tea.’

Kim could better understand the woman’s words if they’d been talking about a teenager, but Melody had been seven years old.

‘I can see the judgement in the expression you’re trying to keep off your face, and I ay bothered by it. I day do nothing wrong in letting me kid go out and play.’

Kim tried to rearrange her expression. This woman needed no condemnation from her. She’d had twenty-five years to consider her parenting style, and she would live with the consequences until she died.

‘Was there anything strange that you recall from that day?’

She shook her head. ‘Nothing any different to washing, cooking and cleaning for a bloody houseful. Kids were coming and going, fighting and playing, and when tea time came I was one short. Didn’t think much of it at first. Thought she’d found a group to play with and lost track of time. Went looking for her about seven, and no one had seen her for hours. Called the police and the rest is in your records.’

‘Why are you so interested now?’ Robbie asked from the doorway. Kim hadn’t realised he was there. For a big man he moved with surprising stealth. ‘She’s dead, so what’s the point?’