Aye, Caroline Reiss. She was most helpful. Let me into a little family secret.
Which is ? Sean asked impatiently.
Which is that rumour has it in the dim and distant past Mrs Bridgeman had an affair. The previous nanny who worked for them at the time happens to be pals with Caroline, which is how she found out.
How is any of this relevant to George being taken? Sally asked. Mrs Bridgeman had an affair big deal they seem to have survived it.
Ah, but you havent heard the best bit yet, Donnelly teased them.
Which is? Sean asked again.
Which is? Sean asked again.
The affair apparently occurred about nine months before wee George was born, Donnelly told them casually.
Ooops, Sally finally said to break the silence. That changes things.
Who did she have the affair with? Sean asked.
I dont know, Donnelly replied.
How come?
Because I didnt ask.
Why the hell not?
Because shed had enough.
Fucks sake, Dave, Sean continued, when did you get all sentimental? Her kids missing and if theres an estranged father in the picture we need to know who the fuck he is.
Slow down, guvnor. She hasnt actually admitted to having an affair yet, and shes adamant wee George is her husbands child.
Which means nothing, Sean reminded him.
I know, Donnelly agreed, but lets give her a day or so to think about what all this could mean, then Ill take another crack at her.
We dont have that sort of time, Sean insisted.
This could also mean Mr Bridgeman might be involved in Georges disappearance, Sally interrupted. From what weve heard so far, hes pretty cold towards the boy.
Aye, Donnelly agreed, and the nanny told me pretty much the same as she told Maggie: hes always been almost resentful of the boy. Maybe now we know why.
So what are we saying? Sean asked. That we may have a long-lost lover who could have taken the boy, or an embittered husband who may have killed the boy and got rid of the body?
Sally shrugged her shoulders, leaving Donnelly to answer.
Thats about the size of it.
OK, fine. Sean accepted the possibilities. Keep digging and see what you can find. If Mr Bridgeman took the body away to get rid of it then he probably used his own car, or his wifes. Have the cars seized and hand them over to Forensics. Make up some bullshit to get them to volunteer handing them over, but if they give you any shit, arrest Mr Bridgeman and seize them anyway. Id rather you didnt nick him, but if you have to Ill get Featherstone to expand the search teams out to a three-mile radius from the home. I dont want a single abandoned building left unsearched. I dont care if its a warehouse or a shed. Ill get Addis to authorize roadblocks and we need to spread the door-to-door further afield. The media appeal Addis is doing later today should make people aware of what were up to, so people might start talking to us.
Does this mean were concentrating everything on this being somehow linked to Mr Bridgeman or a blast from the past coming back to haunt Mrs Bridgeman? Donnelly asked.
No, Sean answered. We still have McKenzie.
Who weve got nothing on, Donnelly argued.
Not entirely true, Sean told him. His modus operandi for previous offences is so close to this one that we could almost charge him on method alone. If I just had a bit more-
But we dont, Donnelly stopped him. We dont have enough to charge him on method alone, so what do we have?
He just feels right, Sean tried to explain.
Meaning?
Meaning he reminds me of someone from the past who also liked to play dangerous games. John Conways face drifted through his mind like a ghost.
Oh aye, and who would that be? Donnelly asked.
No one you know. He was the leader of a paedophile ring I investigated once.
And McKenzie reminds you of this guy? Donnelly continued.
Kind of.
Can you be a bit more specific? Donnelly pushed.
No, Sean admitted. I wish I could, but for some reason the pennys not dropping. Mckenzies motivation I dont know I can feel it, but I just cant tie it down.
Theres no need to complicate this with paedophile witch-hunts, Donnelly insisted. The chances that the boy was snatched in the night by some bogeyman paedophile are a million to one a million to one, he repeated for emphasis. As we all sadly know, the vast majority of child murders are committed by a member of the childs family. Paedophiles who murder are a very rare breed you know that. Lets get on with whats more likely and concentrate on the family.
Paedophile murderers may be uncommon, but no ones saying the boys been murdered, Sean argued.
Why else would anyone take him?
Thats what Im trying to work out.
Boss, I reckon youre wasting your time, Donnelly told him, his voice resigned to Seans will.
Maybe I am, but we stay on McKenzie until hes either charged or eliminated from the investigation. You keep the pressure up on the family, but try not to be too obvious. And find the previous nanny, see if she cant give you the name of Mrs Bridgemans supposed ex-lover. If she cant, try and persuade Mrs Bridgeman to spill the beans. Mr Bridgeman works in the City, right?
Aye, Donnelly answered.
Then get his car number plate over to them and have them run it on their VRM Recognition System. Lets see if hes been coming and going from work as he shouldve been. Meantime Ill keep digging on McKenzie see what I cant turn up. Have Zukov drop the door-to-door proformas in my office ASAP. Maybe a neighbours seen someone matching his description in the area prior to the boy being taken.
Fair enough, Donnelly surrendered.
Ill be in my office if anyone needs me, Sean told them and walked out the door, around the aluminium stand-post and into his own goldfish-bowl of an office where he pulled out his tatty chair and slumped heavily into it, immediately standing again to empty his uncomfortably full pockets. As he tossed his phone on to the desk it began to ring. He grabbed it and sat in the same movement, examining the caller ID. It was Kate. He puffed out his cheeks and tried to force his thumb to accept the call, but it wouldnt move, until finally the ringing stopped and his wife was gone. He grabbed the nearest pile of reports he could find and pulled them across the desk, picked up the first one and began to read.
He could feel the hateful eyes burning into his back as he stood in front of the custody sergeant who never once looked him in the face as he prepared his bail forms. But it wasnt just police eyes that poured their scorn upon his soul it was the eyes of the other prisoners too. Not only did his ill-fitting, desperately old and unfashionable clothes mark him out as someone whod had his own clothes seized for forensic examination, but the cell-to-cell grapevine had been working constantly during the night, ensuring that by morning all the burglars, drug dealers and muggers knew there was a sex-case in the cells. Not just a sex-case, but a paedophile too. If they could reach him theyd beat him to death and he knew it. But standing in front of the custody sergeant waiting for his bail notice he didnt fear them he felt strong and powerful, in control for the first time in a long while. The police wouldnt dare let anything happen to him not while the boy was still missing. If they found the boy then things would be very different, but until that time he held all the cards. He just needed to work out how to best play his hand to his advantage and to Corrigans maximum humiliation.
DI Corrigan, the personification of everything the police meant to him: snarling, arrogant and self-obsessed, convinced of their own superiority and righteousness, like they were some sort of super-humans preordained to rule over everybody else. They destroyed lives like his without a second thought or moment of compassion, then headed to the pub for a celebratory drink as he was led away to prison hell, never once trying to understand him or truly discover why he had to do what he did. No matter what they thought, they were no better than the vile, tattooed thugs who waited for him in prison career criminals who heaped misery on people, but who for some reason considered themselves his master. Soon hed have his revenge on the police leading Corrigan like a pig to the slaughter. But it would all be for nothing if they found the boy first.
This is yours, the custody sergeant told him, handing him a copy of the bail notice and jolting him out of his dreaming. Be back here in a months time or youll be liable to arrest, do you understand? McKenzie nodded that he did. Dont fucking nod your head at me, the sergeant snapped. Answer the question properly.
I understand, McKenzie answered calmly, thoughts of revenge keeping him strong and confident. He took the bail notice from him. Time for me to leave, I think. Mustnt keep your colleagues waiting.
Ive no fucking idea what youre talking about, the sergeant answered truthfully.
No, McKenzie told him as he neatly folded his bail papers and slipped them in his pocket. I dont suppose you do.
Seans eyes and shoulders ached in equal measure as he piled the latest of dozens of reports hed read on to the growing mountain marked complete and leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms above his head and yawning widely before allowing them to fall heavily back on to his desk. None of the reports had contained anything of even the slightest interest no potential witness saying they could have seen someone matching McKenzies description in the relevant location at the material time; no grainy snap shot from the tube stations CCTV that could be him; no stop-and-search forms filled out by a local uniform cop that could be him. Nothing. Sean rubbed his already closed eyes, the image of McKenzie immediately filling the blackness, before melting into the face of someone else John Conway, the ghost from Seans past before that too warped and shifted until it became the face of his own father, causing him to snap his eyes open as if a loud noise had disturbed him while he slept.
The image left him feeling numb for a while, until he was able to force his mind to move on, to think solely of George Bridgeman and what could have happened to him. Where are you George? he asked the room. What the fucks happened to you? Who took you from your bedroom while you slept, feeling safe and warm? But the questions had no answers no snapshots of the man he hunted flashed in his mind. For almost the first time in his entire career he sensed nothing. Come on, George, he pleaded, help me help you. Help me find you. But still nothing.