Her Missing Child Read online

  ‘What’s up?’ Jessie asked, after following her out and closing the door.

  ‘We finally have a witness who can give a definitive description of someone recognisable and connected to Finlay Lucas.’

  Jessie’s eyes widened at the best news she’d had for a long time.

  Seventy

  Dylan handed Theresa a cup of water then took his seat opposite her. Her eyes were red from crying. He thought it strange that what she seemed to be most upset about was letting her mum down. Not the fact that her dead nephew’s socks were under her bed. He slid the bag containing the socks towards her and tapped his finger on it.

  ‘I’m showing the suspect exhibit B6. Theresa, could you tell me what these are?’

  Her solicitor whispered into Theresa’s ear, then scribbled something down on his pad. Theresa tugged on her hair, twisting it between her fingers.

  ‘No comment.’

  ‘You can’t even tell me what these things are?’ Dylan shrugged.

  ‘No comment,’ she repeated, this time in a whisper.

  ‘I need you to speak louder for the tape.’

  Theresa sipped from her cup then coughed to clear her throat. ‘No comment.’

  ‘I’ll tell you then, shall I?’ Dylan lifted the bag up and held it closer to her. ‘This is a pair of baby’s socks. Light blue ones, with a white trim across the top. Can you see that trim there?’ He pointed to it with a sweeping motion of his finger. ‘Most likely to fit, say, a six-month-old.’

  ‘Detective, I object to your question. Is it even a question?’ the solicitor interjected, then whispered to Theresa again.

  ‘Can you see the dirt the socks are caked in, and the little bloodstains peppered around the heel?’

  Theresa glanced up at him. ‘No comment.’

  ‘I’m glad to see you looking so composed now. You seemed very upset on your way in here,’ Dylan continued. ‘What was it you were so sorry about? Was it to do with these socks?’

  ‘Please stick to the facts. That is merely conjecture.’

  Her solicitor was damn good at his job. Dylan had to admit that.

  ‘I apologise, Theresa.’ He laid the bag with the socks back down and moved them closer to her.

  ‘Do you have any idea how the socks came to get so dirty?’ He paused to allow her time to process his question. ‘Why did you have such dirty baby socks under your bed? A bit of a strange thing to have, don’t you think?’

  ‘No comment,’ she repeated.

  ‘Don’t you want to know why Finlay’s body was found in Moncreiffe Wood? Because I would, if he was my nephew. Did you put him there?’

  Dylan could see Theresa was getting rattled. Until then it had been about socks. But this was bigger than just a pair of filthy socks. She was about to say something other than ‘no comment’ until her solicitor put his hand on hers. He whispered into her ear once again. Dylan watched her expression change in an instant.

  ‘No comment,’ she murmured and wiped away a tear, avoiding eye contact with Dylan.

  ‘Theresa, come on. You’ll feel better if you tell me. Isn’t confession good for the soul?’ Her solicitor was not pleased with that one. He removed his half-moon spectacles and waved them towards Dylan to show his disapproval.

  ‘That was uncalled for, Detective. You should know better. In fact, I’m very surprised at you.’

  Dylan glanced from the solicitor to Theresa, who was trembling in her chair. She covered her ears with her hands then screamed out loud.

  ‘I didn’t mean to do it! It was an accident! Tell Claire I’m sorry.’

  ‘Tell Claire you’re sorry for what, exactly?’ Dylan’s pulse quickened as he pushed her to say more. He wanted to shout out, Just tell me! His knees were bouncing with the growing anticipation.

  Her solicitor got to his feet, gesticulating his disapproval with his finger.

  ‘Enough, Detective. My client needs a break.’

  Dylan wanted to scream at him, What if Finlay was your son?

  Instead, he tapped the table with his thumb. He had to bite his tongue. Sadly, the solicitor was right. Confession under duress was inadmissible.

  ‘Interview suspended.’ His eyes drifted to his watch and he gave the time for the tape.

  Dylan gathered up his papers and reached for the bag of socks, but Theresa grabbed them and held them to her chest.

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ she whispered. ‘I’m so very sorry. I didn’t mean to.’

  ‘What are you sorry for, Theresa?’

  ‘Detective, this interview is over for the time being.’ The lawyer dropped a hand on Theresa’s arm. ‘Come on, it’s time we got you home.’

  Theresa smiled, attempting to hide the guilt that Dylan could see gripping her. He was so damn close to an answer. He hoped Jessie was having more luck.

  Seventy-One

  Jessie’s mind was reeling. A witness. They finally had an impartial witness, and what he’d told them was like finding the missing pieces to the jigsaw puzzle. A Royal Mail delivery driver had seen the appeal on Facebook, then heard the news that a body had been found in Moncreiffe Wood. It was only then he’d put what he’d seen together with the case. He’d seen a woman with long red hair acting erratically, about halfway up the woodland track to where Finlay’s body was found. He didn’t get a close look at her face, but she was pacing back and forth, and she might have been wearing a rucksack or sports-type bag. He said he wished he’d gone and asked if she was OK, but he was already late – he was only in the car park because he was taking a break there, looking out over the River Earn, after delivering to Moncreiffe Estate House. He’d also seen a small, slim jogger and a plump woman in her late forties with a dog, but she’d been at the Estate House end of the wood. Perhaps most importantly of all, he’d almost run over Bridget Moran as she’d hurried across the road at the entrance to the woodland car park. He’d been on the receiving end of her steely glare many times as the village postman – being late with her mail had been his crime. Jessie would now have to see where each of these pieces fit.

  She took her seat opposite Bridget and a solicitor she hadn’t seen for a very long time. Jessie had done battle with Lacey Montgomery in the past; Michael Rogers’ partner was nicknamed ‘the shark’ at the station because she stalked and devoured her prey without mercy, gnashing and tearing strips off an unprepared detective. Her attitude did not reflect her physical appearance at all. A slim woman, standing just shy of five feet, Lacey still had the ability to terrify even the most hardened detectives. It takes a bulldog to defend a bulldog.

  ‘Hello, DI Blake.’ Lacey smiled.

  Jessie admired how great Lacey Montgomery looked for her age; she must be sixty but could easily pass for forty. The only hint at her real age were the few strands of silver that were peppered through her neatly coiffed wavy brown hair, held fast with layers of spray, giving it an almost helmet-like appearance.

  ‘Ms Montgomery,’ Jessie answered boldly.

  Once the formal introductions were over, Jessie didn’t want to allow Bridget any time to get comfortable.

  ‘Can you tell me, Mrs Moran, what you were doing in Moncreiffe Wood the day your grandson disappeared?’

  The postie had admitted he couldn’t tell exactly where Bridget was going, but she was close enough to the wood for Jessie to view the sighting as positive. He also couldn’t confirm the girl he saw on the path was anyone he knew, but the fiery red hair was good enough for Jessie at the moment.

  Lacey Montgomery slipped her glasses on and read from her notepad.

  ‘My client is here to talk to you about a missing knife and Father Paul McKinnon’s death. Please stick to the topic.’

  ‘I’m sorry, but a witness has come forward who places your client in a location close to where Finlay Lucas’s body was discovered.’ She paused. ‘Your client’s grandson.’

  Lacey whispered in Bridget’s ear and Jessie clenched her fist under the table in anticipation of the answer she knew was coming.

>   ‘No comment.’

  Jessie knew she’d rattled her. She just had to get her to crack.

  Phil Moran sat with his head in his hands, considering his options. It was his job to take care of his family and he was failing. He hoped it wasn’t too late to change that. It was the right thing to do. He watched Dylan chat with the sergeant at the desk and tried to get his breathing under control. He inhaled, listening to the thudding of his heart. He stood and wiped his sweaty palms on his trousers, feeling every drop of blood rushing through his aching head, and the pounding only got louder with every step.

  ‘Everything OK, Mr Moran?’ Dylan was disturbed by the look on Phil’s face as he approached.

  ‘I need to talk to you, Detective. I need to revise my statement.’

  The ghost of a smile grew on Bridget’s face.

  ‘You’re absolutely right. I apologise,’ Jessie conceded.

  ‘Thank you. I would appreciate it if you would stick to the matter in hand.’ Lacey Montgomery wrote on her pad while she spoke.

  ‘What happened to the knife that is missing from the block you have in your kitchen?’ Jessie continued.

  She smiled as Bridget began to open her mouth to answer, until Lacey whispered in her ear again.

  ‘No comment,’ Bridget repeated, failing to hide the smile growing on her lips.

  Jessie shook her head, gave a long, sharp sigh, then sniffed. She would have to dig deep for this one. Staying within the law. Bending rather than breaking protocol. Jessie was a damn good detective. She’d never met anyone who could beat her; not for a long time, anyway.

  ‘Bridget, and I hope you don’t mind me calling you Bridget?’ Jessie dropped her pen and sat back in her chair. ‘You’re a mother, right, and a grandmother, of course?’ Jessie waited and watched Bridget frown. ‘What, you can’t answer that question either?’

  Bridget shrugged.

  Yes, come on, that’s it, Jessie coaxed inwardly.

  ‘Stick to the point, Detective Inspector,’ Lacey Montgomery challenged her.

  ‘You must miss him’ – Jessie wasn’t finished; not by a long shot – ‘his cute, smiling face.’ She scrunched up her nose. ‘Those gorgeous, blue eyes. I bet he was always giggling, wasn’t he? Bridget? I bet Finlay was a happy little baby, was he?’

  The small interview room buzzed with tension.

  ‘I am going to have to ask you again, DI Blake, to consider your words very carefully or I will be terminating this interview and removing my client.’ Lacey’s stern gaze was an attempt to intimidate her, Jessie knew that, but she wasn’t budging. Bridget’s resolve was about to break – she was sure of it. It was to her great irritation, then, that Dylan chose that moment to knock on the door.

  She answered the door. ‘This better be good, Dylan.’

  ‘You need to come, now.’

  Seventy-Two

  ‘Right then, Mr Moran, in your own time, when you’re ready.’ Jessie leaned her elbows on the table, briefly wondering just how much this family would be billed by Rogers and Montgomery solicitors.

  Phil Moran pushed away his cup of water with a trembling hand. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, reminding himself over and over in his head that this was the right thing to do. It was the only thing to do.

  ‘You have to understand one thing before I tell you. My wife is not a bad woman. She loves her family with everything she has, heart and soul. She loves her girls more than anything in this world. She would do anything to protect them. I will tell you everything, and I’m sorry you haven’t been told before today. When Claire came to us and said she was pregnant, Bridget was so disappointed. We both were. We wanted more for Claire, and wanted her to wait, you know? Wait. Don’t get me wrong – Darren is a decent, solid young man and a hard worker. He stood by our daughter. He didn’t have the best of starts in life, but despite that he is a good, strong man. I couldn’t ask for a better son-in-law. He works hard to provide for my daughter.’

  Jessie was beginning to think Phil had forgotten what they were here to talk about until he continued.

  ‘Theresa doesn’t keep well, mentally. You already know she has bipolar disorder, which makes her thoughts confused and chaotic. Sometimes she suffers from hallucinations and even delusions. How much do you know about it?’

  ‘A fair bit,’ Jessie informed him.

  ‘Well, then you know how deeply rooted delusions can get. Theresa visited Claire that day because she believed Finlay had a message for her. A voice told her to go to him and that the message was vital for her survival.’ He laughed uncomfortably. ‘I know it sounds silly to us, but to Theresa that is real.’

  ‘So you’re admitting she was there that day.’

  Phil nodded. ‘Yes, she was. The voices were so loud, screaming at her that she had killed him, Detective.’ For the first time his composure slipped, and he rubbed his eyes with his palms and sniffed. ‘Theresa panicked and shook him, she said, but he didn’t wake up.’

  Jessie slid his cup of water closer and lowered her voice. ‘Take your time.’

  Phil grabbed the cup, his hands continuing to tremble, and sipped. ‘Thanks. She took him and ran,’ he added.

  Jessie was stunned by what she was hearing.

  ‘Where was Claire when this was happening?’

  ‘Taking a nap, I think. Theresa wasn’t very clear about that, but I assume she was in bed or napping on the sofa.’

  ‘So Theresa was able to let herself in?’ Jessie asked.

  Phil nodded and took another sip of water. ‘Yes. She must have gone straight to Finlay’s room to get this message, or whatever it was.’

  ‘What happened after that?’

  ‘She called my wife from Moncreiffe Wood. Bridget called me, and I waited by the entrance in the car. I dropped them both off at home.’

  ‘What did you do with Finlay?’

  ‘You have to understand that I did what I thought was right at the time. I knew what it looked like. I knew both of my girls would come under suspicion and I was trying to protect them.’

  ‘I understand,’ Jessie lied. How could she understand that?

  ‘I walked up the track and found my wife and daughter in a horrible state.’ He closed his eyes and shivered as he recalled the moment. ‘Finlay wasn’t moving.’ He paused, the words struggling to come out. ‘Bridget arranged for Theresa to be seen as an emergency. She was admitted to hospital for assessment that day.’

  ‘What did you do then?’ Jessie probed. She needed him to tell her.

  ‘We put him back in Theresa’s rucksack, and covered the bag with gravel and some twigs and stones. I know what we’ve done is wrong.’

  ‘You have to underst—’ Jessie began.

  Phil raised his hand in front of him. ‘Please, let me finish.’

  ‘Sure, carry on.’ She nodded.

  ‘What we did, Bridget and me, we didn’t feel we had any choice. We thought Theresa had murdered Finlay. We couldn’t, we just didn’t know what else to do.’ He paused. ‘Are you a parent?’

  Jessie shook her head, but she was really, in her heart. Ryan would always be part of her. That would never change.

  ‘No, I’m not.’

  ‘You can’t understand the need, the overwhelming need, to protect them. It’s unexplainable. Indescribable. Prison would kill Theresa.’

  ‘But you know now that she didn’t kill Finlay?’

  ‘Darren told me what the post-mortem said.’ Phil bowed his head and kept his eyes on the table.

  ‘That must have been difficult to hear, after what happened.’

  ‘The only comfort was the fact that Finlay didn’t suffer.’

  On that they were both agreed.

  ‘You’re right,’ she said. ‘So why didn’t you come and tell us, or even just call me and say what happened that day?’

  ‘It had gone too far for that. Paul McKinnon knew, and you were asking him all sorts of questions by that time. Confession gave Bridget so much comfort. She’s devastated abou
t Paul’s death.’

  ‘Did she confess?’ Jessie was curious.

  ‘She did. That first day. I was so angry that she had been so stupid. We had – I had – done something awful to protect Theresa, and she went and told him.’

  For the first time Jessie spotted a darker side emerge. Phil’s fists clenched before he placed them onto his lap. Was this man capable of the savagery Jessie saw inflicted on Paul McKinnon’s body?

  ‘I had to stop him talking to you. I know all about the sanctity of the confessional, but you were determined to find the truth. I had to stop it. If he told you, then Theresa would be in danger and I couldn’t live with that. So I killed him.’

  ‘But you could live with the pain Claire and Darren were going through?’

  ‘I don’t expect you to understand.’ He sighed. ‘What’s going to happen to me?’

  ‘Can I just clear something up first?’

  Phil frowned. ‘I’ve told you everything that happened. Please promise me Theresa won’t get into any trouble. She didn’t kill him. You said that yourself.’

  ‘Your daughter has been involved in the concealment of a dead body, Mr Moran, not to mention obstruction. As have you and your wife.’

  Phil shuffled uncomfortably in his chair, fearing this confession had all been in vain. ‘But Theresa isn’t well. She didn’t know what she was doing.’

  ‘Your loyalty is admirable,’ Jessie told him, and that wasn’t a lie. He was prepared to go to prison for his daughter. She knew for a fact that her own father would never do that for her. She wasn’t sure whether to feel envious of Theresa or not. ‘I would just like to clarify one last thing before we finish, and then I’ll explain what’s going to happen next.’

  ‘OK. If I can help, obviously I will. You know that.’

  ‘Can you confirm how many times you stabbed Paul McKinnon?’

  ‘What? Why does that matter?’ He shuffled back in his chair and glanced sideways, whether to avoid Jessie’s eyes or seek guidance from Michael Rogers was unclear. ‘I told you. I killed him, and I know that was wrong, but I, erm, I thought it was the right thing to do at the time.’