Page 35 of Stolen Ones

‘You know, I was asked this question back then and I couldn’t answer it. It could have been fifteen minutes; it could have been an hour.’

Kim calculated the difference in radius to the drop point from approximately seven miles to a 30-mile radius working on a rough speed of 30 miles an hour.

Kim raised an eyebrow. ‘You really can’t narrow it down?’

Suzie shook her head.

‘Anything you remember about the journey? Was it bumpy, smooth, noisy, bendy?’

‘I’m sorry, Officer, it’s been so long ago now that any detail is lost to me.’

Kim had a sneaking suspicion it was lost to her twenty-seven years ago as well.

‘If there’s nothing further, I really must get off to work.’

‘Of course,’ Kim said, rising from the bed.

There was little point in posing any more questions to Suzie Keene, who appeared to have no memory of the important stuff, and Kim had the distinct feeling that she wouldn’t tell them if she did.

Never had she heard of a kidnapper abducting a child to feed them, clothe them, educate them and then free them untouched and unharmed.

So why was Suzie Keene lying about the whole thing?

Nineteen

‘You know, Penn, I’m struggling a bit with this one,’ Stacey said honestly. ‘I can’t peg this guy as a murderer.’

It was a feeling that had been swirling around her stomach all night. It had sat with her at her desk, it had followed her to the canteen while she got her head down for an hour and accompanied her into the shower block before the others turned up for work.

She’d seen the disapproving look on the boss’s face, but she hadn’t wanted to go home and relax when the others were pulling extra hours. Not that there was anything to go home for anyway. Devon’s job as an immigration officer was equally as demanding as her own, and she had left early Sunday morning for a four-day sting operation in Kent. Their flat had felt empty the second she’d walked out the door.

It wasn’t until Sunday night that Stacey had headed for bed around eleven and found an almost life-size cuddly giraffe on Devon’s side of the bed. He’d been sprayed with Devon’s favourite perfume and held a note saying he needed lots of cuddles. Everywhere she’d looked since she’d found little Post-it notes with messages from her wife.

She smiled at the realisation that they were over halfway, and that Devon would be home tomorrow evening. In the meantime, she had to try and alter her thinking on Steven Harte.

‘Stace, we’ve already—’

‘I know that but tell me honestly what you think. Do you feel that he abducted and killed Melody Jones and has kidnapped Grace Lennard too?’

Penn raised his head and took a good look at the screen.

Steven Harte was sitting comfortably and scrolling through his mobile phone.

‘Okay, I will admit that he doesn’t strike me as a murderer, but it’s dangerous to assume that, and we can’t get past the fact he brought himself to the station.’

‘But look at all the good works he’s done. Do murderous psychopaths really commit hundreds of thousands of pounds to good causes?’

‘Again, Stace, I don’t think one is mutually exclusive of the other. I think we’ve only got to look at Jimmy Savile to prove that one wrong.’

‘I take your point, but I still have my doubts,’ she said, sighing heavily just so Penn knew how much that concession had cost her.

‘Well, there’s nothing dodgy about Grace’s family that I can see. Claire Lennard has one sister who lives in New Zealand, an elderly grandmother she helps to care for, a father who retired to Spain with his second wife four years ago and a cousin who is a barrister in Manchester. Barely a parking ticket between the lot of them. Very clean.’

‘Squeaky,’ Penn agreed. ‘Now the Jones family are a little more colourful. One of Melody’s sisters is in prison for armed robbery, and another had two kids before she was seventeen. Robbie’s not been in much trouble, but he is making a killing on eBay. He’s been selling gifts and donated goods on there for around fifteen years.’

‘Traded up from the car boot then?’

‘Oh yeah, and there’s a noticeable upsurge after an appearance by Lyla, of which there are many,’ he said, waving a list in the air.