Mark Sennen - Touch

‘I want the same pairs of eyes at all the locations to see if we can find something missing from the stuff we are putting on the system.’

‘What is this, ma’am, Kindergarten Cop?’ Riley had asked.

‘Without the muscles, yes,’ Savage said, smiling. ‘Now get along the both of you.’

The task had turned out to be a tedious one as there seemed to be nothing of much interest at any of the places they visited, but Riley was pleased Savage had picked on him. It showed she had the confidence in him to come up trumps when everything else appeared to be failing.

Riley looked around the nursery and shook his head. Maybe DI Savage had misplaced her faith in him. The place seemed pretty much the same as the others they had been to and nothing stuck out to him as an obvious clue. In the entrance hall the same pictures of the smiling staff and a group picture of all the babies and children, notices about the dates for the nativity, something about a case of hand, foot and mouth disease — which Riley thought sounded serious — a ‘thank you’ for the money raised for this year’s Children in Need appeal, a copy of a recent OfSTED report…

The layouts were similar too. Some elements might be transposed, an item or room added or missing, but the basic theme remained the same. Which was part of the problem. Usually he would look for something distinctive, something out of the ordinary, something out of place. That was what clues were after all: a footprint in a flowerbed, a car parked in an odd location, a fingerprint they couldn’t eliminate. Here they were searching for something or someone common to all the nurseries.

Enders sprung back to his feet again, reading Riley’s mind like he often seemed able to.

‘Play equipment suppliers?’

‘On the list and being checked.’

‘Then I reckon we are soon on to the parents.

‘That will be a hell of a job.’

‘A hell of a fuss too. Especially if the brass decide to go with a DNA sweep.’

Didn’t bear thinking about, Riley thought. The problem of coordinating that kind of action across the city, possibly farther afield too, would be huge. The DNA trawl would involve hundreds of parents, perhaps thousands, and the outcry about civil liberties would be deafening. Many people would refuse to be tested and those would have to be interviewed and eliminated in other ways. Then there was the issue of missing someone or eliminating the killer by mistake or through fraud.

At each nursery they had talked to the owners and workers, but so far there had been nothing much of note. One thing Riley had picked up on was the high turnover of staff. Five of the girls Rosina had worked with at Tina’s Teds had left, along with a couple from Little Angels, Kelly Donal’s place. Even Robins, the establishment where Simone Ashton had worked had lost a member of staff in the six weeks since she had gone missing. Riley didn’t know if the high turnover was relevant or not, but it meant there would always be fresh faces around. He mentioned the fact to Enders.

‘If you returned to a nursery after a few months you would be sure to find some new girls.’

‘You mean staff turnover in these places is a factor?’

‘Yes, but I still can’t fathom why a nursery? Last time I took a gander out of the window at the station I spotted some new girls. Every hour hundreds of them pass by that I have never seen before.’

‘Yeah, I play the same game. Especially in the summer when you can see down their tops. Don’t make a habit of it mind.’

‘Better not, Patrick. You know the boss. If she catches you she’ll cut your bollocks off and feed them to the tourists in a pasty.’

‘Ouch.’ Enders squirmed, as if he possessed rather too vivid an imagination. ‘Anyway I don’t buy that, Darius. It is something to do with this fetish business. Polaroid infants or whatever you called it.’

Riley started to correct Enders’s terminology when he realised it was a wind up.

‘Very funny. But you might just be onto something with your little joke. Polaroid infant. What about the picture found inside the Donal girl? The photograph turned out to be ancient, didn’t it?’

‘Thirty years old.’

‘Looked like Rosina Olivarez?’

‘You are saying the girl in the picture was a nanny?’

‘Not saying, speculating. The girl in the picture meant something to the killer because she looked like Rosina. Rosina was a child care worker so maybe the girl in the picture was too.’

‘Darius my boy,’ Enders shook his head. ‘I have finally worked out why my career is stuck on some dead-end branch line while you are fast-tracked to stardom. It’s because you’re on L S bloody D.’

He watched the rockets climb skyward and burst in crimson blooms, the bangs coming seconds later. For a moment or two he continued to stare up at where they had exploded, looking at the empty patch of sky now filled with nothing but a background of twinkling stars. A short life, he thought, but a spectacular end.

Harry stood on Plymouth Hoe, the place where he had done so much watching, not quite believing he was taking such a risk. Now though, the time for watching was over. Now it was time for action.

Action, Harry?

Lucy still buzzed in his head even though he had dumped her. This time he had managed to carry out his plan and leave her exactly where he had wanted to leave Trinny. She would give the God bods something to think about, for sure. Fearing that, like Trinny, Lucy wouldn’t stop speaking simply because they were apart, he decided to shut her up for good. After he had pushed the big knife down into her stomach, pressing hard so it went right in where babies grew, he used the blade on her mouth. It seemed to have made no difference. He couldn’t quite understand why she still pestered him since she knew she was not the chosen one.

But neither is Emma.

No, Emma was proving to be a disappointment.

I told you so.

Lucy would know, being a little slut herself.

Slut is a very strong word.

True, but Lucy was a very naughty girl.

And you, Harry, what are you?

Harry thought for a moment. He was just Harry. Like Mitchell once said, being yourself is all you can ever be, so don’t try to fight it. And Mitchell had done being anything now. But that really was for the best. As for himself, he hadn’t even started yet.

On the Hoe throngs of people were watching the fireworks, chomping on burgers, enjoying themselves. Harry stood next to the lighthouse, trying to look anonymous, and looked out across the stillness of the Sound where little lights flashed on and off in random patterns. Red, green, white. Harry had no idea what they meant, but he suspected they contained some sort of message to mariners warning of hazards.

Keep away, Harry is here.

The mariners were quite safe, he reflected. But for someone else the danger was real enough. Harry peered round the curved wall of the lighthouse and tried to spot his target.

My boyfriend!

Shush, Lucy! Harry thought, even though he knew nobody could hear her annoying wittering.

Sorry, I should have said my ex-boyfriend. I am yours now, Harry. Forever.

He looked round the side of the lighthouse again and he could see a figure standing all alone over by the sea wall. The boy lived in one of the student blocks in town and Harry had followed him from there to the Hoe. On the way the boy stopped for a drink at a trendy little bar on Derry’s Cross. All on his own in the bar he had looked so sad. But he would be, losing Lucy like that, not knowing where or why she had gone. Now he gazed out across the inky black water and of what he was thinking Harry had no idea.

Plenty more fish, hey, Harry?

Not for him there won’t be, Harry thought. Now he had dumped Lucy the final act needed to be completed and he had made plans. Soon he would take the boy on a journey. A journey from which the young man would not return.