When I Wasn't Watching (24 page)

‘I'm sure you're aware a young boy went missing this morning?'

Mrs Prince shook her head.

‘I don't watch the news, or read the papers,' she said, ‘it's better that way.' A look of horror came over her face as she understood why Matt and Scott were in her home. ‘You think he's done it again,' she whispered, her hands forming into claws in her lap.

‘We're just trying to ascertain his whereabouts, Mrs Prince, that's all,' Scott assured her, his voice taking on that soothing note that somehow never sounded patronising. He really must ask Scott how he did that, Matt thought.

‘Your son told our colleagues that he has been to Coventry since his release, in spite of his parole conditions. We were under the impression he came to see you.'

‘He came once. I shut the door on him.' Her features twisted briefly into a grimace before resuming their flat countenance. ‘It wasn't my fault you know,' she added before Matt could question her further.

‘Excuse me?'

‘Him killing that little boy, it wasn't my fault. There were some issues with my ex-husband, but I left him. I raised Terry well.' There was a fierceness to her as she glared at each of them in turn, daring them to contradict her. In spite of himself Matt felt his gut twist in sympathy. What must it be like, to raise your child believing you were for the most part doing a good job, only to have them turn into a monster overnight? He pushed the thought away as Scott cut in, giving the woman the reassurance Matt could not.

‘No one's suggesting anything is your fault, madam. We're just trying to build up a picture of where he has been and when; it's more a case of establishing an alibi so that we can put him out of the picture, so to speak.'

‘When was this visit?' Matt asked her. Her gaze cut from Scott to him and she looked confused for a minute, thinking.

‘Friday,' she said, nodding her head decisively, ‘Friday afternoon. About three-ish maybe, I don't know exactly.'

‘What did he say?'

‘Nothing, I didn't give him the chance to. I opened the door, saw it was him and shut it again. I think he said something like “Mum, please,” but I had already shut the door. I watched him through the glass. He stood there for a minute, then walked off.' She took a deep breath and slumped back in her seat, her little speech apparently using up what little animation she had.

‘Did you see which direction he went in, or whether he was on foot or not?'

‘No. Can you go now?' She said this last with no real animosity, more exhaustion, as though the very presence of them in her home was draining her.

‘Just a couple more questions,' Scott soothed, ‘and we'll leave you to go about your day.'

‘I don't have anything else to tell you.' She stood up, their signal to leave.

Matt stood with her, looking at her intently. He believed her; that flash of hope in her face when she thought they had come to tell her of her son's demise had been real. Even so, he had to make sure.

‘You're sure you've had no other contact with him? No calls, emails?'

‘Nothing.'

As they left Matt turned and looked at her again.

‘If you do hear anything from your son, Mrs Prince, it's absolutely crucial that you call us.'

The woman stared at him, her eyes again blank, before she shut the door on them. The two detectives walked back to the car and drove off in silence.

‘Nice lady,' Scott said as they turned a corner, ‘hardly the maternal type though was she?'

‘Would you be?'

As they drove the route back to the station Matt doubled back the way they had come, prompting Scott to shoot him a curious look.

‘Dropping in to see the girlfriend again, sir?'

Matt shook his head, ignoring Scott's sarcasm.

‘When Prince came to Coventry to see his mother, how do you think he got here?'

Scott frowned.

‘I dunno…train?'

‘Exactly. So I'm wondering if the Armstrong house is en route from Mrs Prince's to the train station. He would have been on foot, presumably, so maybe he took the alleyway that leads past the Armstrongs' back garden.'

‘Saw Benjamin, felt whatever sick urge he felt when he first saw the Randall kid…'

‘Plus he could have been agitated and upset by his mother slamming the door in his face,' Matt continued, ‘and fixated on Ben for some reason. Then this morning he gives in to temptation.'

As they drove, trying to retrace the most logical route for Prince to have taken, Matt thought about Giles Murray, currently lying in a hospital bed in an induced coma, holding on to his life by the skin of his teeth, because of what looked like retaliation for someone else's crime.

He must have been mad to suspect Lucy, he thought, flashing back to the slide of Murray's face, nearly unrecognisable as human. However angry and emotional Lucy must surely be, he just couldn't see her doing something so calculatingly brutal.

Then again, Mrs Prince had probably thought the very same thing about her son.

After a trip to the train station showed Prince could well have passed near the Armstrong house, but ultimately of course proved nothing, Matt dropped Scott back at the station with the pretext of going to check on the search team, but in fact made his way to Lucy just as Scott had suggested he would. She might not want to see him but he needed to see her, if only to reassure himself that she hadn't been behind the attack on Giles. His head was throbbing. This day had to have been one of the longest of his life, and didn't look as though it would end any time soon. There would be no rest for Matt until he had found Benjamin Armstrong, dead or alive, though the former was looking more and more likely by the minute.

It was growing dark outside and there was a chill creeping into the air as Matt once again walked up Lucy's garden path. There were no lights on, but she came to the door almost immediately and he saw she was dressed to go out, wrapped in a duffel coat that made her look tiny, her face all eyes. Frightened eyes. Matt's stomach sank as he realised there was something very wrong.

‘Lucy?'

She gave a little start as she saw him. Guilt?

‘Ricky's missing,' she said, surprising him. He frowned.

‘Missing? I thought he was staying at your mother's.'

‘He was. But she hasn't seen him all day. He told her he was on his way here, and he hasn't shown. I've rang all his friends' houses, even his father's, not that Ricky ever sees him. Something has happened to him, I can feel it.' The words tumbled out of her before she inhaled sharply and her eyes became guarded.

‘Why are you here? I left you a message.'

‘I know; I got it loud and clear. I'm not here for that. I came to ask you something. Lucy, have you been on the computer at all today?'

She raised a hand halfway to her mouth then lowered it again and bit her lip. She was a bag of nerves, a total change from her earlier demeanour. Because of Ricky, or something else? Then as he saw her expression at the mention of the computer he understood her agitation; like him she had connected the Facebook post with herself, but not in the way Matt had.

‘I think Ricky might have seen it,' she breathed. ‘He's been acting so strangely lately, I'm worried he might do something crazy.'

Matt swallowed hard. So far the attack on Murray had been kept out of the media, but it wouldn't be long.

‘Lucy,' he said, wondering how much it would be wise to tell her, ‘the address given on that site has led to an attack. There's a man in hospital suffering burns so severe it's doubtful he'll make it through the night.'

He watched as Lucy's face drained of all colour and she seemed to sway on her feet. He instinctively raised a hand to catch her but she leaned instead on the door frame, angling her body away from him.

‘Was it Ricky?'

Matt felt a second of relief that her concern for her son was at odds with the idea of her being a suspect, then thought about her words.

‘I would doubt it,' he said slowly, then unwittingly echoed Dailey, ‘let's not jump to conclusions. Ricky's fourteen, the likelihood is he has friends you don't even know about. He's probably holed up somewhere, sulking.'

Lucy shook her head, her hair whipping round her face with the force of the movement.

‘No, there's something wrong, Matt, I can feel it. Will you help me look for him?'

‘I'm on another case, Lucy. The boy's still missing…'

‘So is mine!' Lucy looked near hysteria now and Matt swallowed down the truth she wouldn't want to hear. Compared to a child the age of Benjamin Armstrong, missing teenagers were much lower down the priority scale, for the simple fact that the majority of teenagers went missing because they wanted to. Therefore they were classed as at medium rather than high risk, and with the attention so firmly on Benjamin's disappearance, Matt doubted that Ricky would be considered a priority at least until later tonight. Chances were he would come back of his own accord.

Unless Lucy was right and it was him who had attacked Murray. If he hadn't been seen since the morning, he might have had the time to get there.

‘You don't even know if Ricky saw the post,' he said, reassuring himself as much as her. ‘Does he have internet access at his nan's?'

‘On his phone.'

‘Right, I'll call it in,' Matt said, making the decision, but Lucy's hand shot out and grabbed his arm. Her grip was surprisingly strong.

‘No, please. What if it was him, Matt? What if he saw the address and attacked Prince? God knows, it was
my
first thought.'

Matt felt sick.

‘It wasn't Prince,' he said, his voice so low that he saw Lucy lean forward to hear him. ‘Whoever posted that address was wrong. The man that was attacked wasn't Prince. He was in a witness protection programme; somehow the two got confused.'

Lucy's hand tightened on his forearm and he thought for a moment she would fall. Her eyes were looking up at him, shining in the dim light. Pleading with him for a comfort he knew he couldn't give.

‘Find him,' she whispered.

Just as she had eight years ago. Matt only took a heartbeat to make his decision. There was nothing else he could realistically do on the Armstrong case until some fresh information turned up. He put an arm round Lucy and guided her back into the house. Even under her thick coat he could feel her trembling.

‘Call your mother,' he ordered, ‘you're in no fit state to be alone. I'll need the addresses of anywhere Ricky is likely to be.'

‘There was a girlfriend,' Lucy blurted. ‘Misty, or something.'

Matt nodded. He sat with her until a white-faced Danielle arrived and managed in spite of her anxiety to give Matt a thoroughly disapproving glare at the sight of his arm around Lucy's shoulders.

As he left, armed with Tyler's address and the numbers of a few other school friends, he looked back over his shoulder at Lucy, now clutching a cup of coffee in shaking fingers and hoping for her sake she was wrong about Ricky. If he found the boy, and any evidence he had attacked Murray, then he was honour-bound to arrest him.

He doubted Lucy could cope with losing another son, and prayed to anyone that might be listening that he wouldn't have to bring this one home in handcuffs.

The boy that answered the door at his next stop – presumably Tyler – looked like a prime candidate for future wearing of handcuffs however; in fact, Matt wouldn't be surprised if he had a few ASBOs attached to his name already.

‘What do you want?' the boy asked, recognition dawning in his eyes.

‘Ah, you're the boy from the newsagents aren't you? The one stealing booze with Ricky?'

The boy looked panicked and went to shut the door only to find Matt's foot was very firmly wedged inside it. Scott may be the ‘people's copper' dishing out sympathy and charm, but when it came to dealing with gobshites like Tyler, Matt was firmly on his own ground.

‘Are your parents at home?'

‘I live with my dad.'

‘Well, is he at home?' The smile Matt gave him came out as more of a snarl. He really didn't have the time or patience for this.

‘No.' Tyler pushed the door against Matt's foot. Matt promptly pushed it back at him, causing the boy to step back and Matt followed him inside quickly, shutting the door behind him.

‘Guess I'll just have to talk to you then won't I?'

The boy glared at him, defiance oozing from every pore.

‘Police harassment, this is. I'm a minor; you can't just come barging in and intimidating me.'

Matt ignored him, wrinkling his nose.

‘Is that cannabis I can smell?' When the boy looked as if he was about to bolt Matt raised a hand and softened his tone as he spoke.

‘I just want to ask you a few questions about your friend Ricky, okay? No one has seen him all day and his mum's a bit worried about him.'

Tyler looked surprised, then shrugged.

‘I haven't seen him. Last I heard he was suspended from that posh school he goes to and staying at his nan's.'

‘You didn't have any plans to meet?'

Tyler looked uncomfortable, then something behind Matt obviously caught the boy's attention. Matt turned to see a girl coming down the stairs. In spite of her short skirt and badly dyed hair she looked very young.

‘I'm his girlfriend, well sort of,' she said, shooting Tyler a funny look. ‘I haven't spoken to him since yesterday.'

‘You must be Misty?'

‘Mitzi,' the girl snapped, obviously offended. ‘Like the one from
Hollyoaks
who looks like Cheryl Cole?'

Matt had no idea what she was talking about.

‘Did you have any plans to meet up today, or this week at any time? You said you were his girlfriend.'

Mitzi looked uncomfortable, pausing on the bottom step and twisting a lock of hair between her fingers. She had Minnie Mouse stickers on her nails.