Luke Delaney - The Toy Taker

A brash voice snapped him back to the real world.

‘Talking to yourself again?’ barked Donnelly. ‘First sign of madness, apparently. Speaking of which, the search team’s found a shitload of drugs in the house — as in medicinal drugs, not the fun stuff. Nothing I’m particularly familiar with, so I ran a few of the names past the local police surgeon. It appears they’re for the treatment of depression and schizophrenia.’

Sean didn’t mention he’d already seen the drugs during his hunt for the children; instead he handed the custody record to Donnelly. ‘There’s an entry in there from the Mental Health Team,’ he explained. ‘They’ve managed to speak to Allen’s GP, or should I say GPs — he swapped whenever he got one who told him what he didn’t want to hear. They all say he has treatable depression with schizophrenic overtones — also treatable, but only if he took his medication.’

‘Which he wasn’t doing,’ Donnelly finished for him.

‘He was home alone,’ Sean continued. ‘He didn’t have anyone to make sure he took the drugs — so he stopped taking them, preferring to listen to the voices in his head. Same fucking sad story we’ve seen before, and will see again.’

‘Care in the Community,’ Donnelly spat. ‘You’ve got to fucking love it.’

Sean felt the phone vibrating before he heard it, pulling it from his inside jacket pocket and checking the caller ID: anonymous. Not unusual on a detective’s phone, but always a cause for concern. He answered it anyway. ‘Sean Corrigan.’

‘Detective Inspector Corrigan,’ Addis’s voice leaked from the phone. ‘I hear congratulations are in order.’

‘Sir.’

‘Although I seem to recall dismissing you from this investigation?’

‘You did, but I remembered something — something I felt was crucial and that needed to be acted on immediately. Turned out that something was right.’ He waited for the response.

‘You’re sure he’s our man?’ Addis eventually asked.

‘Found the children in his house, and so far he’s not denying it.’

‘And he was working alone?’

‘As far as I can tell. It looks like he has mental health issues — probably depression and schizophrenia. There’s nothing to suggest he was working with anyone.’

‘The children — where are they now?’

‘Already back with their families.’

‘Have they been interviewed yet?’

‘No. That can wait. I’ll have SOITs start interviewing them tomorrow.’

‘SOITs?’ Addis queried anxiously, the fact Sean wanted to use officers trained in Sexual Offences Interview Techniques giving him cause for concern. ‘Do you think they’ve been sexually assaulted?’

‘No,’ Sean answered, ‘but I want to be sure.’

‘Very well,’ Addis agreed. ‘I want a full report on my desk by tomorrow morning — first thing.’

‘Isn’t that for my replacement to do?’ Sean asked, hungry for his pound of flesh. ‘I’m still waiting for them to arrive here at Kentish Town so they can take over.’

‘Don’t play games with me, Inspector,’ Addis warned. ‘You know full well no one’s on their way to take over anything. You saved yourself — though only just. I have decided to leave you in your current position — for now. Your report — my desk — tomorrow — first thing.’ The line went dead.

‘Problem?’ Donnelly asked.

‘Nothing I can’t handle.’

The door to the interview room opened and a head popped around the corner, searching for Sean.

‘We’re ready when you are, Inspector,’ the appointed duty solicitor announced, struggling to conceal his delight at landing such a high-profile case.

‘Shall we?’ Sean asked Donnelly, and headed to the interview room without waiting for a reply.

Sean hurried through the legal requirements he needed to complete before the interview could begin, speaking as quickly as he could without betraying his impatience, relieved to get the legal ramblings out of the way so he could start with the questions and answers.

‘Douglas, I need to ask you some questions. Do you understand?’

‘Yes,’ Allen confirmed, ‘but why is she here?’ he asked, looking at the woman sitting next to him. ‘I don’t need an appropriate adult. There’s nothing wrong with me.’

‘Law says different,’ Sean told him. ‘Leane’s a trained psychiatric nurse. She needs to be present before I can interview you.’

‘I see,’ Allen agreed suspiciously.

‘Douglas,’ Sean began, focusing intently on him, as if they were the only two people in the interview room. ‘Do you know why you’re here?’

‘I …’

‘Because you’ve been arrested for the murder of Samuel Hargrave and the abduction of George Bridgeman, Bailey Fellowes and Victoria Varndell. Do you understand?’

‘I didn’t murder him,’ he almost gasped. ‘It was … it was an accident.’

Sean said nothing, hoping the oppressiveness of silence would encourage Allen to say more. It worked.

‘It’s just … it’s just he was making a lot of noise and … and I was afraid.’

‘Afraid of what?’ Sean asked gently.

‘Afraid they would hear us.’

‘Who?’

‘His parents.’

‘This was when you were inside the boy’s house — Samuel’s house?’

‘Yes.’

‘So what did you do?’

‘I put my hand over his mouth.’

‘And?’

‘That’s all, I swear.’

‘But you must have had to restrain him — hold his arms still?’

‘Yes, but …’

‘Otherwise he could have pulled your hand away.’

‘No … he couldn’t have done that.’

‘Why not? If his hands were free?’

‘Because I was pressing …’

‘You were pressing what?’ Sean pushed him. ‘You were pressing down on his mouth too hard?’

‘Excuse me, Inspector,’ Leane Kerry intervened, ‘but do you think this style of questioning is appropriate, given Douglas’s mental health issues? With the right treatment he’ll be fine, but the medication takes several weeks before it’s up to speed. At this time he’s effectively untreated.’

‘Thank you — I read the custody record.’

‘Then maybe you could go a bit easier?’

‘And in the custody record it says you’ve come to the decision he’s fit to be interviewed.’

‘That’s true, but-’

‘Then maybe it would be better for all of us if you’d let me get on with it,’ Sean rebuked her, but then eased off. ‘I’ll bear in mind your … suggestions.’ He turned back to Allen. ‘So, Douglas — were you pressing down too hard, so hard that not only was Samuel unable to call out, he couldn’t breathe?’

‘I told you,’ Allen replied, more scared and panicked than angry, ‘it was an accident.’

‘There’s no such thing as an accident,’ Sean told him calmly but firmly. ‘It’s always someone’s fault. If you hadn’t been in the house trying to abduct the boy, you wouldn’t have had to clamp your hand so tightly over his mouth that he couldn’t breathe, and he’d be here today — alive. You killed him, Douglas. Whether you like it or not, you killed him.’

‘No! No!’ Allen raised his voice, tears welling in his eyes. ‘It was an accident. Why won’t you believe me?’

‘Because we call those sort of accidents murder,’ Sean told him. ‘At the very least, manslaughter — although in this case, child-slaughter would seem more fitting.’

‘Inspector, please,’ Leane appealed to him.

‘OK, OK,’ Sean relented. ‘Let me ask you something simple, Douglas: why did you take them? Why did you take these children?’

‘To give them a better life — better than the life they had.’

‘These were children from privileged backgrounds — wealthy parents, beautiful houses, good schools, exclusive areas of London — what could you give them that would make their lives better?’