Page 16 of Little Children
Stacey didn’t disagree with the boss’s logic. Review what had already been established and then look deeper and wider. Never the most satisfying task, unlike going on a voyage of discovery, unearthing facts for the first time. There was a despondency to going over someone else’s work, as though your brain had already decided there was nothing new to find and so shut down part of its capabilities.
‘Jesus, this is monotonous,’ Penn said, turning another statement face down.
He was clearly feeling the same lack of motivation she was.
‘How many you got?’ she asked.
‘Forty-seven.’
‘Blimey,’ she said, surprised. That was more than she’d been expecting. ‘They’ve been thorough.’
‘Hmm… I’ll let you know. Only done five so far.’
Stacey remained silent to leave him to it. She had her own mind-numbing task to sink her teeth into. She had access to the footage that had been saved and a second file containing the footage deemed of no value. The contents of both surprised her, in the sense that there was not very much of it. She’d been known to amass dozens, sometimes hundreds of video files in her efforts to locate one useful image or clip.
In the saved file there were two clips.
One was three seconds long. It showed Lewis walking into Coral Island; the second clip showed him walking out again at 8.35 p.m., exactly thirty minutes later.
The clip ended when he went out of view of the camera.
She could see why they’d assumed that if he’d been taken, he’d have most likely been snatched between the amusement arcade and home, which was just under a mile away.
But she had a couple of questions. The cameras could see a bit further than the entrances, so why hadn’t they got that footage? And what had he been doing in Coral Island for almost half an hour? According to the mother’s statement, the kid only had a fiver, which Stacey was sure would have been gone in minutes.
She drummed her fingers on the desk and stole a glance over at the lone figure in the squad room. She was guessing the fact he’d been left behind meant he performed a similar role to her. If he was mainly deskbound, he might be starved of conversation, so who knew what he might reveal. She also wanted an idea of how deeply he’d gone on the CCTV.
She stared at his bowed head for a full minute, wondering how to make contact without it appearing obvious. She would bet her next pizza that he’d been instructed not to interact with them.
So, she had to give him no choice.
She spied something on the wall behind his head, and a slow smile began to lift her lips.
Something she’d done accidentally a week ago was now going to serve her well.
She took a fresh piece of crisp paper and slid it hard against the crease in her left forefinger closest to the nail.
Nothing.
She did it again.
Nothing.
She did it a third time and struck gold.
Penn raised his head. ‘Stace, what the?—?’
‘It’s okay,’ she said, pushing back her chair.
She hadn’t forgotten how sore it was, nor how much it bled.
She nudged the door handle open with her elbow while cupping her left hand. Perfect droplets of blood were landing in her palm.
‘Hiya, you got a first aid kit?’ she asked, heading towards the officer they called Gonk.
He froze for a second and then followed her gaze to the wall behind his head.
‘Sure, sure,’ he said, reaching behind. The only accent she heard in his voice was a northern twang.
