Dead Man's Grip

Amber Alert, for getting descriptions of missing or abducted children circulated fast, nationwide. It included mobile messaging, social-networking sites, news bulletins and posting descriptions on motorway signs. Its use always generated thousands of responses, each of which would have to be checked out. But it was a valuable resource and ideal for this current situation.

‘We need an all-ports alert out, too,’ Grace said. ‘No one’s leaving this country with a young boy until we’ve cleared them. We need to throw everything we have at this. We need to find this bastard and we’re going to have to find him fast, before he has a chance to hurt the kid.’

Grace hung up, leaving the Chief Superintendent to get started, and turned back to Branson.

‘OK, you’re Investigations Bronze. Chief Superintendent Barrington will brief you shortly, but there are three urgent things you need to do.’

‘Yes?’

‘The first is to get the boy’s computer – I assume he must have one – down to the High-Tech Crime Unit for analysis. Find out who he’s been talking to and engaging with on Facebook, chat lines, email.’

Branson nodded. ‘I’ll access that via his gran.’

‘The second is to get every inch of his house and garden searched, and his immediate neighbours’, and the homes of all his friends. You may be able to draft in some locals as volunteers to help search his entire home area.’

‘Yep.’

‘The third is to keep checking with the dentist and the school. I don’t want egg all over my face if this kid turns up safe and sound because his mum forgot to tell you something.’

‘Understood, but that’s not going to happen. Not from what she’s told me.’

‘It had better not.’ Then Grace shrugged. ‘Although I wish it would, if you know what I mean.’

Branson nodded, getting up to leave. He knew exactly what Roy meant.

As the door closed, Grace grabbed the Kidnap Manual off the shelf and laid it on his desk, but before he opened it he scribbled down several more actions on his pad as they came into his head, then sat in silence for some moments, thinking. His phone rang. It was his MSA, Eleanor Hodgson, asking if he had the amended draft of his press statement ready for retyping.

In the panic of the last few minutes he’d forgotten all about it, he realized. He told her he was going to have to rewrite it totally because of the latest development and that the press conference might need to be delayed by half an hour.

He felt very afraid for this young boy. This man who had killed Preece and Ferguson was a cruel sadist. There was no telling what he had in mind for Tyler Chase, and all Grace’s focus now was on how to get the boy safely out of his clutches. Thirty minutes had elapsed so far. They could be in a lot of different places in thirty minutes. But a taxi was distinctive. A man and a young boy were distinctive – particularly if Tyler was still in his school uniform.

He felt a deep, dark dread inside him. This was not his fault, but he still had overall responsibility for providing the protection Carly and her family needed, and he was angry with himself for letting this happen.

At least the timing of the press conference could hardly be better. Within the next hour, combining Child Rescue Alert, the press and the media, he could have nationwide blanket coverage on the missing boy.

Then he picked up his phone and made the call that he was not looking forward to.

Assistant Chief Constable Peter Rigg answered on the first ring.

88

Carly walked around her hotel room in a black vortex of terror, tears streaming down her face, desperately wanting to get back to England. Her brain was jumping around all over the place and she was feeling physically sick.

How could she have been so damned stupid leaving him at home, unprotected like this? Why, oh why, hadn’t she thought everything through more carefully before making this dumb decision to come here?

Was she forgetting something? A simple explanation for the taxi? Was there something she had overlooked in the chaos of the past weeks? She regularly ordered taxis to take him places when she was tied up at work. Had she double-booked Tyler for another appointment somewhere else? With whom? Had she perhaps ordered this taxi weeks ago for that and forgotten all about it? Perhaps the taxi had picked up the wrong boy? That could be it, a mix-up at the school!

She felt a fleeting moment of relief.

Clutching at straws, she knew.

She tried to shut the images of Fernanda Revere in the wreckage of her car from her mind. Some of them were intertwined, horrifically, with Tyler’s face. She shivered and thought about getting into a hot shower, but she did not want to risk missing a call. She had to get home. Someone helpful down at the front desk was looking into flights to England for her. She had to get back today, somehow had to, had to. She looked at her watch but could hardly read the dial. Her eyes felt as if they weren’t working properly. Everything she looked at seemed out of focus.

She had to think straight. Had to think clearly. But the only thing that came to her mind was the image of Tyler getting into a taxi.

Driven by a monster.

She walked over to the window and looked out again. It had been a blue sky a few minutes ago. Now it was grey. The landscape was all washed out. She watched a man on a dumper truck. Has your son been kidnapped? She saw a woman get out of a small car. Starting her day. Just a day like any other, for her. Has your son been kidnapped?

She went into the bathroom to brush her teeth, but her hands were shaking so much the toothpaste fell into the sink each time she tried to squeeze some on to her brush. A coiled spring felt as if it was being wound tighter and tighter inside her. She filled the kettle, but then could not find the switch on the damned thing. All the time she kept her phone beside her, willing Tyler to ring. Desperately praying he would ring.

And suddenly it began ringing. The display said, blocked.

‘Yes-hi-hello,’ she blurted.

‘Carly? It’s DS Branson.’

‘Yes?’ she said, trying to mask her disappointment. But maybe he had news? Please, please have news.

‘I need to ask you some questions, Carly.’

Her heart sinking, she rushed on, ‘I was thinking – I don’t know – is it possible there was a mix-up at the school and the taxi was for another boy? Have they checked he’s not somewhere at the school. He likes science, history, stuff like that. He often just goes into the labs and works on his own. He can be a loner. Did they check? Did they?’

‘They’re searching the school now. The taxi was definitely there to collect your son, Tyler.’

‘Did he turn up at the dentist? Do you have any news at all?’

‘So far not, but we’ll find him, don’t worry. But I need your help.’

‘DON’T WORRY? YOU’RE TELLING ME NOT TO WORRY?’ she shouted.

‘We’re doing everything we possibly can, Carly.’

‘I’m going to get the first flight home. Maybe I can get a daytime one and be home this evening.’

‘I think you should get back as fast as you can. Let me know your flight details when you can and we’ll meet you at the airport. We’ve heard about Mrs Revere.’

‘This is just a nightmare,’ she said. ‘Please help me. Please find my son. Oh, God, please help me.’

‘One thing that could be significant. Can you tell me who might have known about Tyler’s dental appointment?’

‘Who? Only – only his school – and my friends, Sarah and Justin Ellis. He – Justin – was going to take him. I – I can’t think of anyone else.’

‘Our High-Tech Unit’s done some searches. Tyler’s on a number of social networking sites, which I presume you