Threats At Three

young boys go missing all the time, but every time we take it very seriously. It’s often part of growing up. Giving their parents a good scare and proving they’re not children anymore.”

“Parent, Inspector,” Derek said. “Mrs. Hickson is a lone parent at the moment.”

“And has had trouble with Jack as a result,” Lois said, putting her hand on Paula’s arm. She had talked firmly to Paula after ringing Cowgill, and persuaded her that now there was no option but to tell the police. She could see the poor woman was torn between finding her son and betraying her husband, if that was necessary, but luckily the maternal instinct won, and Paula had agreed.

When Cowgill had taken down all the details, he said Paula could go back home. “You’re the best person to be there when he comes back or gets in touch,” he said.

“I’ll see you safely back,” Derek said, and insisted on taking Paula the few yards to her house. He then waited with her whilst they gave Gran an edited version of what had happened. Gran was unusually gentle and calm. Instead of stating her sharp opinion on the state of the world in general and young people in particular, she recalled the time when Josie had gone missing, but had been found safe and well.

“Try not to worry too much, dear,” she had said. “And if you want to talk to someone while you’re stuck here with the babies, just give me a ring and I’ll pop over.”

After Derek and Paula had gone, Cowgill and Lois sat in silence for a few seconds. Then he reached across and took her hand. “Come on, then, my Lois,” he said. “There’s more, isn’t there?”

Lois did not take her hand away, but nodded miserably. “Why didn’t you ask her about her husband?” she said.

“Because I was sure you would know all about him, and were more likely to tell me the truth. So tell me.”

She told him about the man losing his job, hitting the bottle and then hitting his wife, being chucked out and disappearing, only to reappear as a gardener at the hall. Now she felt set free and floating with relief at having off- loaded it all on to Cowgill. Gran had warned her, and had been right. But was avoiding all possible involvement in other people’s troubles right?

The feeling of relief did not last long. Now a child of thirteen had disappeared. And not just any old child. This was Jack Jr., who sometimes behaved like a monster, scorning help and causing endless worry to his mother. And farting in her van! This was Jack Jr., whose father had run away and deserted him, leaving him to cope alone with bullies and a predatory drug dealer.

Cowgill stood up. “I need to get back straightaway to the station,” he said. “The sooner we get things moving the better. The first forty-eight hours are the most important in cases like this.”

Lois took him to the door. He leaned forwards and kissed her lightly on the cheek. “Take care of yourself, Lois. Don’t do anything stupid, and keep in touch with me.”

He met Derek and Gran coming up the drive to the house, and stopped for a brief word. Then he was gone, and Lois touched her cheek with her fingertips.

“What are you smiling about?” Derek said, as they entered the house. “Has Jack been found?”

“No, and I’m not smiling,” Lois replied sharply.

“I see,” said Derek grimly. “Just a facial twitch? Anyway, we’d better have a family conference, see what we can do to help.”

It was now eleven o’clock, but Lois insisted on ringing Josie and Douglas, and Gran insisted on staying up until they’d all decided what would be best. “I suppose it’ll be on the telly news in the morning,” she said, “and then the Advertiser will be on to it. Let’s hope he’s found before all that malarkey.”

“It’s important people start thinking about what they’ve seen, and keep their eyes open,” Lois said. “The first forty-eight hours are critical, Cowgill said.”

THIRTY-NINE

THE HOUSE HAD ONCE BEEN A SOLID, MIDDLE-CLASS VICTORIAN residence, but had gradually fallen into disrepair and then dereliction, as a long-running legal battle was fought and refought by the family who had inherited it. In the end, the inheritors had grown too old to care, and the rest of the family had emigrated to South Africa and were no longer traceable.

So number thirty eight, Barcelona Street, Tresham, had become a squat for any homeless unfortunates and undesirables who needed shelter and a fix. It was no place to take a thirteen-year-old boy, even if he was shut away from scenes of degradation in the only room that still had a lockable door.

Jack Jr. was very frightened. He had been on his way along the deserted High Street to choir practise, humming “All Things Bright and Beautiful,” the only hymn he knew, under his breath, and thinking about driving Rebellion, when the battered old white van had stopped and his enemy got out. In seconds, he had bundled a fiercely resisting Jack into the back and banged shut the door. Jack had kicked and screamed, but the van chugged off towards Tresham before anyone could have heard him.

Now he sat curled up in the corner on a smelly duvet, desperately wondering what would happen next. Why had his enemy picked him up? What did he want? He was sure his mother would start a hunt as soon as she realised he was missing. But then, he had stayed out all night without telling her before, so it would be his own fault if she waited until the morning before alerting the police.

A key turned in the lock, and the door opened. His enemy came in and locked the door behind him.

“Can’t be too careful, can we, Jack Hickson,” the man said. His smile was cold, and Jack curled up tighter. “Your dad is a real Houdini, so it seems, so you’ve probably inherited his skill.”

“Who’s Houdini?” said Jack.

“Doesn’t matter,” said the man. “Let’s get down to business, then if you tell me what I want to know, I’ll get you something to eat. If you don’t, then I won’t. Simple, isn’t it? O’ course, after a while, you’ll be so hungry you’ll tell me anything, so you might as well start straightaway.”

“Sod off,” said Jack.

“Now, now,” cautioned the man. “You know me from old times, Jack. I never forget. What I want to know is how to find your father. And I am quite sure you know where he is. When did you last see him?”

Jack looked mutinously at the face held so close to him. He thought of spitting into it, but decided that might provoke something too bad to bear. So he said, “When he left home. Mum chucked him out in the middle of the night. He was drunk and making a lot of noise. Us kids woke up, and I got out of bed in case she needed help. I saw him tumble down stairs, and then she threw him out. That was the last time I saw him.”

The man slapped him, hard. “Try again,” he said. “When did he last get in touch with you?”

Jack fought back tears. “I told you,” he said. “I ain’t seen him since.”

The man raised his hand, and Jack flinched. “I’m telling you the truth, honest!” he said.

“You wouldn’t know the truth if it was a matter of life and death,” the man said, and added, “which it very well might be.”

Jack stared at him, willing himself not to blub.

“Has he spoke to you on the phone? You’d know his voice, wouldn’t you? I bet he told you where to find him if you needed him. He was always worrying about his kids, especially young Jack, his firstborn. So you know where to find him, don’t you?” He gave Jack a sharp kick on the leg. “Just to remind you what I can do if you don’t tell me the truth. And make it soon,” he added, hearing a screech from the other side of the door. “I can’t waste time with you. I’m needed.”

Jack thought quickly. He had no idea where his father was, and he didn’t care. But he had to get out of all this somehow. “Well,” he said, convincingly slowly. “I did hear he had gone to Scotland. My uncle lives in Carmunnock, just outside Glasgow, and we used to spend holidays there. Nice place,” he said conversationally. “My uncle and auntie are nice. My dad’s the black sheep.” He forced a smile. “Is that what you want to know? Can I go home now|?”

The man looked at him suspiciously. “Are you lying, you little devil?” he said.

Jack shook his head. “No. Sometimes I do, but now I’m not. You know the cops will be here soon, so you might as well let me go. I promise not to tell. I can say I was doing a sleepover with a new friend. If you’re quick, you could say you hadn’t seen me, or do a bunk yourself. They must be looking for you anyway, leading kids