Keller case is messing with your head a bit? Believe me, when it comes to having your head messed with, I’m an expert.’
‘Meaning?’ Sean asked, prepared to consider anything.
‘Keller took his victims from their homes before he killed them,’ she explained. ‘Maybe that’s stuck in your head, making you see similarities here that don’t actually exist.’
‘The boy’s gone,’ Sean insisted, his voice sad and resigned. ‘But get a dog to check it over anyway. It might find
something
.’
Sally studied him for a moment, searching for things in him that not so long ago she’d seen in herself. ‘OK,’ she relented, ‘so the boy’s gone. Someone came in the middle of the night, somehow got in, took the boy and left, all without being seen, heard or leaving any signs of entry.’
‘Either they had a key,’ Sean told her, ‘or they picked the locks.’
‘Christ, Sean,’ she reminded him. ‘Lock-picking’s bloody rare.’
‘Good, then that helps us. But why lock the door after they’d left? Why would they do that?’
‘Because they’re insane.’
‘Or because they cared about the people they left in the house – didn’t want to leave them at risk. Exposed.’
‘You mean the father?’ Sally asked.
‘Possibly.’
‘Why would the father want to abduct his own son?’
‘Why do some fathers slaughter their entire family at the first sign their wives might leave them?’
‘I don’t know,’ Sally admitted. ‘You tell me, Sean. Why do some men do that?’
‘Better to destroy something you love rather than lose it.’
‘That doesn’t make any sense.’
‘No. No it doesn’t,’ he agreed. ‘Much like this case.’
‘So what you want to do?’
‘Keep an open mind.’
‘Easier for some than others,’ she mumbled.
‘What was that?’
‘Nothing,’ she lied. ‘How’s your shoulder, by the way?’
‘Sore. And you?’
‘Better and better,’ she told him.
‘Is there something you want to ask me, Sally?’
‘No,’ she lied again. This was not the right moment.
‘Then we’re wasting time,’ he told her. ‘Time we don’t have.’
Detective Chief Superintendent Featherstone sat in his office at Shooter’s Hill Police Station looking at pictures of sailing yachts in the magazine he subscribed to and kept hidden inside a pink cardboard file marked
Confidential
. Owning a nice thirty-two-footer had long been his retirement dream, but constant pay-cuts, pay-freezes, allowance-scrapping and now attacks on the police pension were turning his dream into a fantasy. If he could make it to the rank of commander before he retired, the dream might still be alive – just. His mind drifted to Sean and the sort of results he seemed able to pull out of a hat. At the end of the day, he was Sean’s supervising officer and therefore in a position to bask warmly in the reflected glory of Sean’s successes – successes that might just get him over the line and promoted to commander before deadline-day struck. But only if things kept working out and Corrigan didn’t fuck up. He liked the man and watched his back better and with more fervour than most senior officers ever would, but he wasn’t about to put his head on the chopping block for anyone.
His daydreaming was interrupted by the shrill ring of the phone on his desk. He answered it slowly and without enthusiasm. ‘Hello, Detective Superintendent Featherstone speaking.’
‘Alan. Assistant Commissioner Addis here.’
Featherstone felt his heart drop and his bowels loosen slightly. ‘Sir.’
‘I’ve assigned that case we discussed to Inspector Corrigan,’ Addis told him.
‘That was fast,’ Featherstone replied.
‘I thought the sooner he got on with it the better. The quicker we act the more chance we have of finding the missing boy.’
‘If there’s been foul play, Corrigan’s the best man to lead the investigation. He won’t let anyone down.’
‘I hope not,’ Addis told him, making it sound like
‘Meaning?’ Sean asked, prepared to consider anything.
‘Keller took his victims from their homes before he killed them,’ she explained. ‘Maybe that’s stuck in your head, making you see similarities here that don’t actually exist.’
‘The boy’s gone,’ Sean insisted, his voice sad and resigned. ‘But get a dog to check it over anyway. It might find
something
.’
Sally studied him for a moment, searching for things in him that not so long ago she’d seen in herself. ‘OK,’ she relented, ‘so the boy’s gone. Someone came in the middle of the night, somehow got in, took the boy and left, all without being seen, heard or leaving any signs of entry.’
‘Either they had a key,’ Sean told her, ‘or they picked the locks.’
‘Christ, Sean,’ she reminded him. ‘Lock-picking’s bloody rare.’
‘Good, then that helps us. But why lock the door after they’d left? Why would they do that?’
‘Because they’re insane.’
‘Or because they cared about the people they left in the house – didn’t want to leave them at risk. Exposed.’
‘You mean the father?’ Sally asked.
‘Possibly.’
‘Why would the father want to abduct his own son?’
‘Why do some fathers slaughter their entire family at the first sign their wives might leave them?’
‘I don’t know,’ Sally admitted. ‘You tell me, Sean. Why do some men do that?’
‘Better to destroy something you love rather than lose it.’
‘That doesn’t make any sense.’
‘No. No it doesn’t,’ he agreed. ‘Much like this case.’
‘So what you want to do?’
‘Keep an open mind.’
‘Easier for some than others,’ she mumbled.
‘What was that?’
‘Nothing,’ she lied. ‘How’s your shoulder, by the way?’
‘Sore. And you?’
‘Better and better,’ she told him.
‘Is there something you want to ask me, Sally?’
‘No,’ she lied again. This was not the right moment.
‘Then we’re wasting time,’ he told her. ‘Time we don’t have.’
Detective Chief Superintendent Featherstone sat in his office at Shooter’s Hill Police Station looking at pictures of sailing yachts in the magazine he subscribed to and kept hidden inside a pink cardboard file marked
Confidential
. Owning a nice thirty-two-footer had long been his retirement dream, but constant pay-cuts, pay-freezes, allowance-scrapping and now attacks on the police pension were turning his dream into a fantasy. If he could make it to the rank of commander before he retired, the dream might still be alive – just. His mind drifted to Sean and the sort of results he seemed able to pull out of a hat. At the end of the day, he was Sean’s supervising officer and therefore in a position to bask warmly in the reflected glory of Sean’s successes – successes that might just get him over the line and promoted to commander before deadline-day struck. But only if things kept working out and Corrigan didn’t fuck up. He liked the man and watched his back better and with more fervour than most senior officers ever would, but he wasn’t about to put his head on the chopping block for anyone.
His daydreaming was interrupted by the shrill ring of the phone on his desk. He answered it slowly and without enthusiasm. ‘Hello, Detective Superintendent Featherstone speaking.’
‘Alan. Assistant Commissioner Addis here.’
Featherstone felt his heart drop and his bowels loosen slightly. ‘Sir.’
‘I’ve assigned that case we discussed to Inspector Corrigan,’ Addis told him.
‘That was fast,’ Featherstone replied.
‘I thought the sooner he got on with it the better. The quicker we act the more chance we have of finding the missing boy.’
‘If there’s been foul play, Corrigan’s the best man to lead the investigation. He won’t let anyone down.’
‘I hope not,’ Addis told him, making it sound like
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