Luke Delaney - The Toy Taker

‘Why not?’

‘Because it’ll undermine McKenzie as a suspect. Think of the disclosure down the line,’ Sean pointed out. ‘Hardly looks as though we truly believe he’s our prime suspect if we’re interviewing the Bridgemans at the same time we’re following him.’

‘Disclosure’s irrelevant until we have someone charged, and apparently we’re a long way from that.’

Sean’s mobile rang, halting their discussion again. Sean raised his hand to silence Donnelly.

‘Morning, guv’nor, DS Handy here. Thought you’d want a morning update on the surveillance.’

‘I’m listening.’

‘After he got bailed he went straight home and stayed indoors for a couple of hours before changing his clothes and showing himself again. He headed to a local takeaway − kebab, chips, side of hummus and a can of Coke, if you’re interested — then home and indoors for the rest of the night. First show today was just after eight thirty a.m.; made his way to a local café this time — egg, bacon, chips, toast and tea — took his time over it too, then jumped on a bus to the Archway Road.’

‘Archway?’ Sean queried. ‘Did he go anywhere specific?’

‘Only a hardware shop, Asian-owned: Archway DIY-’

‘Imaginative,’ Sean chipped in.

‘Does what is says on the tin. Full address is 173 Archway Road. He was in there for a good fifteen minutes. I put one of my people in the shop with him, but they couldn’t hang around that long without showing out — it’s not exactly Homebase in there.’

‘Did they see what he bought?’

‘Sorry. Couldn’t get close enough and couldn’t stay long enough.’

‘Bollocks,’ Sean snarled. ‘Where is he now?’

‘Got back on the bus and headed home. Been there ever since, which isn’t long. Problem?’

‘No. No problem. Was he carrying anything he could have bought in the shop?’

‘When he came out he tucked something into his jacket pocket, but we don’t know what. Do you want me to send one of my team into the shop to ask what, if anything, he bought?’

‘No,’ Sean replied. ‘I don’t want to burn any of your team. You stay with the target and I’ll check the shop out.’

‘Understood.’

‘Something up?’ Donnelly asked as Sean put the phone down.

‘Could be.’ Sean was on his feet, reaching for his jacket. ‘Grab your coat — you’re coming with me.’

‘Oh aye. Where to?’

‘Archway Road, to visit a hardware shop.’

‘Why?’

‘Because I need a new screwdriver,’ Sean quipped.

‘What?’ Donnelly screwed his face up in disapproval.

‘Never mind,’ Sean told him. ‘I’ll explain on the way.’

Stuart Bridgeman sat alone in his office in the family home in Hampstead with the door closed and his modern jazz music playing just loudly enough to drown out any sounds of life coming from the rest of the house. Nothing he tried seemed capable of distracting his racing mind from the situation he was trying not to face. Having to see his wife was bad enough, but having the female cop hanging around the house all hours was pushing him closer and closer to the edge of he didn’t know what. His wife, the cop, even the nanny must think he was a fool if they imagined he hadn’t noticed the endless whispered conversations. He knew exactly what — who − they were talking about. The more they conspired against him, the more isolated and bitter he felt towards all of them. Had he not continued to provide for them all, given them everything they could ask for — despite the rumours and betrayal? He’d always done what was necessary for the family, even taking care of George, despite knowing the truth, despite feeling no love towards the boy — despite being reminded of his wife’s betrayal every time he had to look at him. Could anyone really blame him for losing his temper, even if he was honest and admitted the boy himself had done no wrong? When a new male lion takes over a pride from the old patriarch, the first thing they do is kill the lion cubs that aren’t genetically theirs — not out of cruelty, but out of an overpowering urge to ensure their own genes will dominate and survive. And now George was gone and he didn’t know how he felt about that. All he knew was that the eyes of suspicion had fallen upon him. At least, no matter what happened, he’d always have Sophia. Regardless what truths bubbled to the surface.

A gentle, nervous knock at the door chased away the thoughts that he knew would be back again and again. He considered telling whoever it was to go away, but remembered the cop lurking in his home. ‘Come in,’ he called out, like a headmaster summoning a naughty child. The door opened slowly and only enough to allow his wife to slip into the room. She closed the door softly before speaking.

‘I was going to make something to eat — do you want anything?’ she asked.

‘No,’ he told her, his eyes falling away from her and back to the dossier on his desk he’d been pretending to read.

‘You should eat,’ she persisted. ‘You don’t want to make yourself ill. We could do without that right now.’

‘I said no,’ he scolded, staring without raising his head making his eyes appear demonic. She backed off for a few seconds until his eyes returned to the dossier.

‘Stuart,’ she tried once more to reach him. ‘We need to stick together on this. No matter what happened in the past — we need to stick together now.’

‘Or what?’ he growled. ‘Worried what people might start to say about us? About you? You never seemed to care about that before.’

‘Do we have to talk about that now?’

‘I don’t want to talk about it at all.’

‘Damn it, Stuart, this isn’t about us! This is about George. This is about my son.’

‘ Your son,’ he seized on her slip. ‘That about says it all, doesn’t it? Your son — not our son, but your son.’

‘That’s not what I meant,’ she tried to recover.

‘Then what did you mean?’

‘I just want my boy back,’ she told him, her voice weak now as the tears glazed over her eyes. ‘Dear God, what’s happened to him? Where’s my son?’

‘Why don’t you ask that cop out there what’s happened to your son ? They’re supposed to have all the answers, aren’t they? And while you’re asking her, why don’t you ask her why the police took our cars?’

‘But they told us why they needed our cars, why would I-’

‘You stupid bitch! Did you really believe all that bollocks about suspects leaving clues hidden around the place? They took our cars because they think I took George. Don’t you understand? Maybe they even think we killed him.’

‘That’s absurd,’ she argued. ‘Why would they think that?’

‘Why? Because they know your dirty little secret.’

‘How could they?’

‘Oh, come on. Haven’t they already been asking you about it? Insinuating?’ The puzzled look of recognition on her face told him what he already knew in his heart. ‘Of course they have. It’s only a matter of time before they arrest me, but it won’t help them find George. It won’t help them get you your little boy back.’

‘Why are you being so cruel?’ she demanded. ‘He’s your son too, damn you. Why did you say that?’

‘Why did I say what?’ he asked, a look of disgust on his face.

‘That I won’t get George back. Why would you say a thing like that?’

‘I’m just telling you what the police think,’ he insisted, only less confident now — less sure of himself and not so confrontational.

‘God help me,’ she hissed, moving a few steps closer, pointing at him accusingly, ‘if I ever find out that you’ve done anything to hurt George, I swear I’ll kill you myself.’