Luke Delaney - The Toy Taker

‘I never could,’ she replied without smiling. ‘Just don’t cross that line. You’ll lose yourself if you do.’

‘I won’t,’ he promised, knowing that if he couldn’t with her he wouldn’t with anyone.

‘Sean,’ she stopped him as he headed for the door. ‘If you ever need anything, just call me — OK?’

‘I will,’ he assured her. ‘I’ll keep you posted,’ he promised and was gone, leaving her standing in front of her desk imagining what could have been — imagining them together, instead of watching him walking away.

Forty-five minutes later Sean had completed the tortuous journey across Central London that had taken him past Marble Arch and Hyde Park Corner and along the rear garden walls of Buckingham Palace before battling his way past Victoria station and finally into Victoria Street and down to Broadway and the Yard. He’d cursed being moved to Central London from Peckham more than once and was in a less than joyous mood as he swept into the main office, pictures of Anna swirling in his mind, the smell of her perfume still on his clothes and face, her taste still on his lips. He was unsure about why he’d really gone to see her — whether it he’d been driven by simple, natural desire or she’d been right and he’d merely gone to her to feel danger again — to risk losing everything just to put himself on some sort of edge that might kick-start his instincts. He caught sight of the photographs of the missing children staring at him from the whiteboards — innocent children snatched from their warm beds and safe homes by some nutjob. Whether whoever was responsible intentionally meant to harm the children or not, they were still insane as far as he was concerned. He wasn’t in the mood to sympathize.

He ignored everyone he passed as he made his way to his office, slumping into the chair behind his desk. He stared back out into the office at the photographs, the children’s eyes seeming to follow him, their smiling faces, immaculate hair and perfect school uniforms mocking his own miserable childhood. He spoke quietly to himself. ‘Why didn’t anyone come and take me? Why didn’t you come and take me? I would have gone with you.’ His own question made him sit bolt upright. ‘Is that it? Were they being abused — is that why you took them away?’ But the eyes in the photographs told him differently — Bailey’s more than George’s, but even the boy’s were content enough. Not like the few pictures of himself as a child — haunted and defeated. And the parents too, none seemed like the type of animal he knew so well — like his father. He slumped back in his chair. Something else then . The vibrating phone in his pocket broke his daydreaming. He pulled it free and looked at the caller ID. His cheeks puffed before he answered.

‘Sean — it’s Superintendent Featherstone. Got any updates for me?’

‘No. Not really.’

‘What about this second missing kid?’

‘Too early to say much,’ Sean lied, unwilling to explain his early theories.

‘Bad news, all the same,’ Featherstone told him, ‘another kid being taken. Are you sure they’re connected?’

‘They’re connected. Same suspects.’

‘Suspects?’ Featherstone seized on Sean’s tired mistake.

‘I’m keeping an open mind,’ Sean tried to deflect him.

‘You think it could be a paedophile ring?’

‘Like I said, I’m keeping an open mind.’

‘Well that’s fine by me,’ Featherstone began. ‘I understand the score, but Addis won’t be so forgiving. He’ll want something solid on the hurry-up, get my drift?’

‘I’ll do the best I can.’

‘I know you will,’ Featherstone told him. ‘There’s something else you need to know.’

‘Such as?’ Sean asked, sitting forward in his chair.

‘Addis is going back on the telly tonight — to do another appeal for assistance.’

‘Probably can’t hurt.’

‘Unfortunately he’s going to publically apologize as well.’

‘For what?’ Sean asked, sitting ever more upright.

‘The investigation ’s failings.’

‘Failings?’ Sean responded. ‘The investigation ’s failings? You mean my failings?’

‘I’m sure you’re doing all you can,’ Featherstone weakly reassured him, but Sean wasn’t listening.

‘Why doesn’t he take me off the case then — give it someone from SCG north-west — see if they fare any better?’

‘Because he knows you’re the best man, the best team, for the job — no matter what else he says. So let’s just try not to piss him off too much and get this one solved. If it’s too late to save the missing kids, we’ll have to manage that as best we can, but at least if we have a suspect in custody who’s going to stay there we can put a positive spin on things for the media and the public.’

‘It’s not too late,’ Sean snapped back without thinking.

‘Not too late for what?’ Featherstone asked, confused.

‘Nothing,’ Sean tried to cover his slip.

‘Whatever. Just remember, Sean, if push comes to shove, it won’t be Addis who takes the fall — no chance of that. And just for the record, it won’t be me either. Be careful, Sean.’ The line went dead.

‘Fuck,’ he swore loudly enough to be heard in the main office. His phone began to chirp and vibrate again, the caller ID telling him it was Kate calling from her mobile. ‘Jesus,’ he muttered more quietly, deciding to let it ring out before changing his mind and answering, images of Anna tormenting him as he tried to sound normal, his betrayal and guilt burning in his chest.

‘Hi. It’s me,’ Kate replied cheerfully. ‘Where are you?’

‘At work — where else? What about you?’

‘Work too.’

‘Busy?’

‘Not really. Not at this time of day, unless we’re really unlucky. How’s it going?’

‘Badly,’ he told her.

‘Something happened?’

‘Another kid’s gone missing, a little girl this time — taken by the same person.’

‘Oh,’ Kate answered, trying to hide the tell-tale sounds of selfish disappointment in her voice. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I mean, I’m sorry for the girl and her parents.’

‘I know you are.’ They listened to each other silently down the phone for a few seconds, his guilt and regret growing in the silence.

‘I suppose that means we won’t be seeing much of you — anything of you for a while?’

‘What can I do?’ he asked.

‘We need to get away from this,’ she told him, making him sink back in his chair. ‘This is no way to live — to raise kids.’

‘Not now,’ he pleaded. ‘Let’s not do this now. Not right now.’

‘OK,’ she agreed, her voice soft and reconciliatory, ‘but have you thought about New Zealand any more? It has to be better than this.’

‘I’ve looked into it,’ he reminded her. ‘My shoulder’s fucked — I’d never pass the medical, not without more surgery.’

‘If you went to your physiotherapy sessions, that would help.’

‘I’m too busy for physiotherapy,’ he told her before realizing his mistake.

‘Exactly.’ She seized on it. ‘You owe your job no loyalty,’ she told him. ‘You’ve given them everything and they’ve taken it all without giving a damn thing back. It’s time to look after yourself … and your family.’

He considered her words for a second. ‘OK. I promise to keep the physio appointments.’

‘And?’

‘And to check out New Zealand again, providing the shoulder improves.’

‘Good,’ she told him, the relief obvious in her voice. ‘And try to get home at some point, even if it’s just for a little while.’

‘I will,’ he promised.

‘OK. I’ll see you later. Be careful.’