Cath Staincliffe - Make Believe

‘Did he fall, or was he pushed?’ said Janine.

‘Exactly,’ said Millie, ‘Joe was ten at the time.’

The same cause of death. What were the chances? Was family man Breeley repeating an earlier crime?

‘We can use this,’ she said to Richard, ‘we should put this to him.’

While they waited for the half hour to elapse, Janine checked on responses to the Sammy Wray reconstruction. ‘The phones are red hot,’ Shap told her, which could mean anything or nothing. Perhaps Sammy had been snatched and taken abroad, at best for an illegal adoption and at worst as a victim for the men who get pleasure from abusing children.

‘Joe,’ Janine said once they had resumed the interview, ‘we really need to sort this out. You need to start telling us the truth. We have good reason to believe that you were involved in the death of the child found at Kendal Avenue. You’ve not been in to work since. Bad back you said, then excuses about the weather, then you claimed you stayed at home to help Mandy. Not like you to blob work according to Donny McEvoy. This is why, isn’t it, Joe? You couldn’t do it. Go back and carry on knowing that child was down there in the dirt. Alone. You couldn’t stomach it.’

He looked down at the desk, closed eyes. When he raised his head and stared at Janine, he looked tired, cynical, his cheeks hollowed.

‘We know about your brother. About Gary,’ she said.

Joe Breeley jerked as if she had slapped him then sat back his eyes blinking rapidly, his face tight and Janine could see how close he was to breaking point.

‘Oh you do, do you? You know all about that,’ he said bitterly.

‘He had a fractured skull, too. Same age. What happened this time, Joe? Another accident?’

Joe Breeley’s mouth was rigid, his face pale. His upper body was shaking and Janine realised his leg was bouncing up and down as it had at the house. A nervous tic. He didn’t answer.

‘Who is he?’ Janine said.

He looked down, put his head in his hands.

Janine spoke quietly. ‘Someone out there is worried sick because their little boy is missing. You’re a father. Imagine that? That little boy needs a name. We need to find out what happened to him and return him to the people who love him so they can lay him to rest.’

She kept pushing but keeping her tone soft, full of concern. ‘Where he is, he’s no name, no identity, like a bit of rubbish that no-one cares about. He has a mother, he has a father, they deserve the truth. That’s all they can have now. That little soul needs peace. I think you do too.’

He raised his head, tears leaking from the sides of his eyes, anguish stretched across his face.

‘Where did you find him? Who is he, Joe?’

He shook his head, raised his hands to his face, pressed his fingers against his lips as though he’d stop the words. Gave a sob.

‘Joe, please, who is he?’

‘He’s my son.’ His arms fell, he cried to the heavens. ‘My boy. He’s dead and he’s my son.’

‘Is he losing it, or what? Has he got another kid?’ Richard said as soon as they were alone, after the solicitor had insisted on a break and Janine agreed without argument. ‘Is there a previous relationship?’

‘Not that we know of,’ Janine said. ‘They’ve the baby – and John,’ Janine recalled the photos, the child crying from upstairs. Miserable with chickenpox. ‘And no-one’s reported a child missing, anyway. Apart from Sammy. If he was from a previous relationship surely the mother would have… John Breeley’s been sick,’ she was thinking aloud, ‘we didn’t see him. We heard him though.’

She looked at Richard. Her stomach turned over and her bowels turned to water. ‘We heard a child. We were told it was John.’

Richard narrowed his eyes, listening intently to her.

‘There is a connection,’ she said, her mouth dry and heart thumping. ‘This is John, our victim. The child we heard upstairs – I think it’s Sammy.’

The way Breeley had hesitated when Janine mentioned DNA. He must have thought then that they’d soon identify the relationship between father and son, that the game was up. That no matter how vehemently he denied all knowledge of the crime, the science would blow it all wide open.

‘He killed his son and took Sammy?’ Richard said.

‘The timing would fit. He puts John there early Saturday morning, goes away and comes back just after nine. He works the morning…’

‘Goes to the park,’ Richard said.

‘That’s why we’ve had no reports of another missing child.’ She could feel her pulse racing, a buzzing in her head.

‘We arrest Mandy as an accomplice and remove the children,’ she said.

‘You sure?’ Richard said.

‘That it’s Sammy? Hell, yes. This time I’m sure.’ She was trembling with adrenalin but she needed to focus, to use the energy to concentrate on the task in hand – recovering Sammy from Mandy Breeley.

There was no reply at the house. Janine peered through the letter box, no sign of life, no sounds from upstairs. Shap checked around the back and found the same. They began knocking on doors along the street.

A neighbour opposite reported seeing Mandy leave with the children in the car only a few minutes earlier. She knew the family well and was able to tell them where Mandy’s mother lived.

‘Richard and I will go round there now,’ Janine told the team who stood, poised to act, outside the Breeley’s house with all the neighbours watching. ‘Shap, flag up the car registration so we can try and catch her with ANPR if she’s done a runner,’ referring to the automatic number plate recognition technology they could use. ‘Butchers, get onto telecoms, we want to pinpoint her location if she uses her phone – Joe Breeley will have her number in his. Be prepared to instigate a child rescue.’

Janine rang Lisa and brought her up to speed. ‘Map out radius, probable distance travelled and time projections. Set up a child abduction alert. Shap will give you the details.’

Shap got out his phone. As Janine hurried to her car Shap began to speak to Lisa, ‘Maroon Vauxhall Astra registration mother 635 x-ray, lima, hotel. Full alert all ports and airports. Occupants twenty-five-year old white female, long blonde hair, believed to be travelling with infant boy and three-year-old boy…’

Mandy’s mother lived about a mile away and looked disconcerted when she opened the door to police officers.

‘Have you seen Mandy today?’ Janine asked her, once she’d identified herself.

‘No.’

‘Have you heard from her?’

‘No. Why? What’s going on?’ she said.

Janine didn’t have time to go into a full blown explanation so said instead, ‘She’s missing from home and we’re anxious to speak to her.’

‘About what? What on earth’s the matter?’ the woman’s voice rose.

‘I’m sorry, I can’t discuss that with you now but please if you do hear from her will you let us know immediately?’ Janine passed her a card. The woman opened and closed her mouth, her forehead creased, eyes bewildered.

Knowing what she did, Janine felt a moment’s pity for Mandy’s mother. Whatever happened in the hours to come, her life was about to be torn apart as she learnt about the death of her grandson and the abduction carried out by her son-in-law. ‘I’m sorry,’ Janine said, ‘I have to go.’

They drove away, the woman still standing in her doorway, as if frozen by dread.

Janine requested that Joe Breeley be returned to the interview room.

He came in walking slowly, face drained of colour. He sat beside his solicitor and rubbed at his face with his palms, like he was trying to wake himself up.

‘Joe, Mandy’s missing,’ Janine said.