Page 74 of Little Children
The rear door of the van opened.
Arms reached out and hauled the boy into the back of the van.
‘Jesus,’ Stacey whispered to herself, knowing she might just have witnessed Lewis’s last few moments alive.
She watched it back with the urgency of someone who felt they could do something to stop it.
Three seconds. That was the amount of time it had taken to get Lewis into the back of the van. There were no missteps; there was no clumsiness, no hesitation. It was quick and efficient, and she now understood how no one had seen a thing.
Stacey wanted to sound the alarm, make calls, inform everyone. She wanted to create the urgency that had been lacking while everyone concerned had been convinced that Lewis had run away.
The urgency came from what she’d just learned. They were ten days past the actual event, and the van was long gone.
What more could she glean from this footage?
She already knew she hadn’t got the number plate, but she went back and watched every second from the moment the van came into view.
She watched the interaction between the figure and Lewis over and over again, focussing only on the figure. The more she did so, the more she became convinced of one important fact.
The figure clad in black from head to toe was definitely a woman.
Forty-Six
It was almost midday when Bryant followed Roy Moss into the morgue at Blackpool Victoria Hospital, and he still had no idea why they were there.
The pathologist was waiting for them at the inner door.
‘Sorry but no entry until I get a proper introduction. I don’t let any Tom, Dick or Harry in here.’
Bryant held out his hand and gave his name and rank. ‘Not here to tread on any toes,’ he added. ‘Just here to assist with the missing boys investigation.’
‘Richard Wade,’ the pathologist said, shaking Bryant’s hand. ‘Although I’m not sure why either of you are here. I’ve not yet finished prepping the body.’
Bryant tried not to cringe. Over the years, he’d become spoiled by Keats referring to victims as though they were still alive, using pronouns, salutations, even endearments as though they could hear him. He wasn’t sure he’d ever heard the man refer to any victim as ‘the body’.
‘Ah, no probs, bud,’ Roy said affably. ‘Just wanted to check something real quick. Is that her?’ He pointed through the glass.
Wade frowned, and Bryant could offer nothing. Roy hadn’t let him in on the purpose of the visit either.
‘Okay, well suit up and?—’
‘Fuck me, I’ll only be a minute,’ Roy blustered, pushing his way into the sterile room.
Bryant was learning more and more about Roy with every interaction the man had with both himself and other people.
He gave the pathologist a wry smile.
‘Who did you piss off to get this assignment?’ Wade asked.
‘Just my bad luck, I guess, but I suppose if the guy gets results…’
‘Wasn’t sure he did,’ Wade said. ‘I’m afraid to say that no one around here is sure why the man still has a job. It’s certainly not due to his charm and charisma.’
Bryant tuned out for a minute as his focus shifted to his peripheral vision and Roy’s movements in the morgue.
He had approached the body on the trolley and peeled back the sheet to reveal the head and neck. As Wade continued to talk, Roy leaned over the body as though inspecting it for something.
‘You know the saying about lying down with dogs,’ Wade said, pulling his attention back.
