Im telling the truth, McKenzie lied again. Its a second-hand computer the download was already on it I just found it when I was clearing its memory.
Liar, Sean told him, his voice threatening as his hand slipped behind McKenzies neck and began to squeeze hard, the pain opening his mouth and making him whimper in pain. Youre off to a bad start, McKenzie. Now its time to start telling the truth.
Liar, Sean told him, his voice threatening as his hand slipped behind McKenzies neck and began to squeeze hard, the pain opening his mouth and making him whimper in pain. Youre off to a bad start, McKenzie. Now its time to start telling the truth.
The sweat on his brow made the thin, brown hair of his long fringe stick to his forehead as his thin fingers tried to prise Seans iron grip from the back of his neck, his dirty, broken fingernails scratching and drawing lines of blood on the back of Seans hand. Im not saying anything until I speak to a solicitor, he managed to say between deep swallows. I know my rights.
Fuck your rights, Sean hissed. The children you were convicted of assaulting where were their rights when you were abusing them? He thrust McKenzies face closer to the laptops screen. Where are their rights?
Maybe you should take it a little easy, guvnor? Keeping her voice low, Sally laid a hand on Seans arm. This was no game of good cop, bad cop shed seen Sean like this before and knew it could mean trouble trouble for them all.
Anyone wants to leave, they can leave, Sean told Sally and the other two detectives. Mark and I wouldnt mind being left alone, would we, Mark? We could have a private chat get a few things straightened out.
Sally sighed inwardly, but said nothing.
Ive got nothing to say to you, McKenzie sneered through his pain, the fear leaving him as his mind began to spin with the possibilities of his situation.
Wrong, Sean shouted in his ear. Time to talk, McKenzie. Now, wheres the boy? Where are you keeping him?
McKenzie shook his head, trying to assess the situation and play it to his own advantage to turn the tables on the police at last, especially the one who held him by the neck as if he was nothing more than an unruly dog. He couldnt stand any police, but this one was especially easy to hate. I dont know what youre talking about, he answered. A sickening smirk twisted across his face as he fed off Seans dark anger, sensing that he was the one in control, no matter how hard Sean squeezed his neck; no matter how much he might beat him or try to humiliate him. He held the power for now.
The boy? Sean repeated. You snatched him from his bedroom in Hampstead last night, but where is he now? What have you done with him? For your sake, Mark, I hope hes all right.
Ive got nothing to say to you whoever you are.
I already told you who I am, Mark. You need to pay a little more attention and you need to answer my questions and you need to answer them now. Do you know what happens to child murderers inside, Mark? Look at you you wouldnt last a week before someone stuck a sharpened screwdriver into your liver. You already know all about living Rule 43 inside, dont you, Mark but a child murderer? How long before the screws accidentally leave your cell unlocked, eh?
You finished yet? McKenzie asked, his smirk turning to a full-blown smile.
Fuck you, am I finished! Sean told him as he pushed his face into the computer screen, releasing him at the same time and stepping back before he did something he knew hed regret. Im just getting started, you disgusting piece of shit. Trust me, McKenzie, when Im finished youll know.
Donnelly sat alone, surveying the interior of the café hed found off Hampstead High Street, sipping the coffee hed just bought, the price of which had made his eyes water. He regretted not opting for one of the many big-chain coffee shops and saving himself a few pounds, even though he couldnt stand the places. It had been a few years since hed attended any training courses at the nearby Peel Centre Police College, but even in that time many of the independent cafés and restaurants had disappeared, overtaken by the ever-spreading international franchises. He sighed as he took a bite from his extortionate bacon sandwich and sipped the coffee that cost as much as a pint of bitter in his favourite pub. As his mind drifted back to the case in hand and his appointed task of organizing the door-to-door inquiries, he couldnt suppress a snort of disgust at the way his talents were being wasted. Not that he had any intention of actually knocking on endless doors himself, speaking to the disinterested and the over-keen alike though he had reserved a couple of addresses for his special attention: the immediate neighbours of the Bridgemans.
He had quickly come to the conclusion that they were looking for some spectre who didnt actually exist. During his long service hed seen a lot of strange things, but when a child went missing and there was no sign of a forced entry there was no need to look further than the parents. The boy was almost certainly dead already and probably still hidden somewhere in the house a suitcase or holdall. Once the search team or dog unit found the body, they could crack on with the murder investigation, by which time he planned to be one or two steps ahead. Interviewing the neighbours would be the first of those steps.
Donnelly hadnt even met the missing boys parents yet, but just sitting in this café in the middle of Hampstead told him the sort of people they would be: smug and self-important. God, he loved putting the squeeze on types like that. They always thought they were so clever so much cleverer than a dumb copper. Which was just how he liked it, because they invariably thought they were smart enough to talk their way out of any situation. In reality, they always ended up digging themselves great big holes to neatly fall headfirst into. If they really were as clever as they thought, theyd say nothing just like the everyday feral criminal from any housing estate in London would. How I love hubris, he told himself with a smile, the image of tearing their alibis to pieces across an interview table cheering him considerably. The cold, hard truth was that all he had to do was bide his time and wait for the body to turn up.
Kentish Town Police Station sat on the corner of Kentish Town Road and Holmes Road, blending in perfectly with its bleak surroundings, its Victorian architecture oppressive and forbidding, a relic from the past that seemed to hold the entire area back, despite its proximity to some of the wealthiest and most sought-after areas of London. From outside the building almost no signs of life could be seen within, just as the Victorians had wanted: small windows with thick, dimpled glass kept the secrets of its business from the public outside. That suited Sean just fine as he and Sally sat in the small office theyd borrowed from the resident DI, preparing to interview Mark McKenzie who was currently languishing in the dingy, threatening cells that lay in the bowels of the building.
So, how much dyou like McKenzie for our yet-to-be-established abduction? Sally asked, breaking minutes of silence. Sean looked up from McKenzies intelligence file, his expression telling her he hadnt heard her question.
What?
McKenzie? Dyou think he could be our man if its confirmed the boy has actually been taken?
The boys been taken, he assured her, and yes, he could be our man. His previous is perfect especially his record of night-time residential burglaries while the families were at home, sleeping. Hes a creeper, and that makes him a dangerous individual. You and I both know that. People dont do night-time burglaries while the residents are at home for profit alone it gives them something else a buzz, some perverted satisfaction. It makes them feel powerful and in control, even if half of them do end up fouling themselves with fear.
But not McKenzie, Sally added. Theres nothing in his records to say he ever defecated at the scenes of his burglaries.
Which means either he wasnt afraid or hes learned to control his fear, both of which make him all the more dangerous. Add to that the fact he has previous for sexual assaults on children, and has used lock-picking as a way of gaining entry yes, I like him for this a lot. But I could do with something a bit more concrete before we interview him. Which reminds me He grabbed his mobile from the desk and searched its memory for one of the newest members of his team, then hit speed-dial and waited.
Guvnor, Goodwin answered.
How you getting on with that search team and dog unit?
Im gonna meet them at the house in a couple of hours, guv.
Whats the hold-up? Sean asked impatiently.
Anti-Terrorist, guv. Theyve had them all tied up for days now. I had to be a little economical with the truth to pull them away for a few hours, so if you get an irate call from any brass, Im afraid thatll be down to me.
If I do, Ill deal with it, Sean assured him. You got a team and thats all that matters. Anyone gives you a hard time, you tell them I made the call on that one understand?
Thanks, guv.
As soon as you get a result, let me know, Sean told him and hung up.
Problem? Sally asked.
The house hasnt been searched yet, Sean told her, and wont be for a few hours.
Shall we delay the interview?
No. Well do it anyway. Weve got a missing four-year-old, we cant afford to wait around.
So, Sally began, her eyebrows raised in exaggerated concern, well be interviewing a possible suspect who we have no evidence against about a crime we cant even prove has happened. Thisll be interesting.
The crimes happened, Sean almost snapped at her, and McKenzies a good suspect. We go with what weve got. If the search teams or Forensics come up with anything else, we can always re-interview him.
If you think he fits the bill, thats good enough for me, Sally told him.
Sean closed his eyes for a couple of seconds, allowing the images of McKenzie crouched by the front door of the Bridgemans house to flow into his mind, the dark figure quickly and smoothly working the locks as his breath condensed in the cold night air, before slipping inside the house and moving silently towards the stairs that would lead him to the boy he knew was sleeping upstairs. How did you know? He spoke aloud without knowing it.
Know what? Sally asked, making him open his eyes.