A Suitable Lie (33 page)

I
n the kitchen, I leaned against the sink and looked out of the window. Mum had a neat back garden, the grass clipped, a clothes pole posted at each corner and bordered on each side with hedges, shrubs and small flowering plants.

I looked at the sky, at the clouds sliding past and the scraps of blue in between and thought that somewhere under that sky, not that far from here, my boy was walking with a man who had murder in his heart.

‘Can I suggest you sit with Pat, Andy?’ Bairden came up behind me. The rest of the police officers had left the house at the first sighting of Ryan. ‘He needs to be distracted somehow.’ Subtext: so do you.

‘So you’re our Family Liaison Officer?’ I asked him.

He nodded.

‘Cos you’ve got the skills,’ I said, wanting to wound.

‘Andy,’ Mum said. ‘That’s enough. This is not a good situation for any one of us. Let the man do his job.’

I straightened my back and crossed my arms, unwilling to acknowledge that my attitude was suspect. To hell with Bairden. If his feelings were injured he should get himself down to the job centre.

My mind returned to Ryan. Those big, blue eyes of his were a demonstration of why Disney gave their cartoon animals that same feature. To most humans they were irresistible. Most humans.

I saw Ryan. Trusting. His small hand in Hunter’s. Walking with the man, completely unaware of what was going on. Every adult he’d ever met had been a source of affection and fun. To Ryan, why would this guy be any different?

I felt emotion build. Knuckled a tear from my eye.

‘Pat,’ I said, forcing light into my tone. ‘Fancy a kickabout in the garden? Maybe Detective Bairden would like to join in?’ I looked at the careful shine on his black brogues and took some satisfaction that between us we might dull that a little. To his credit, Bairden was unfazed.

‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘Great idea.’

We passed an utterly surreal thirty minutes in the garden, kicking the ball back and forward, each of us listless and distracted.

‘The Early Learning Centre?’ Bairden broke the silence.

‘Yeah, what about it?’ I asked.

‘I don’t have kids and I assumed, from the shop name, that it would be kind of a boring place for kids. You know, learning centre? Doesn’t say come in: you’ll have a blast.’ He shrugged. ‘How would Hunter know to take him there? The CCTV operator said that was the only shop they went in to.’

‘Maybe they walked near it and Ryan pulled Hunter in?’ I suggested.

His radio buzzed and voices issued from it. We all stopped moving.

‘They’re not here, Detective Bairden,’ I heard a voice say.

Bairden held his hand to his radio and spoke. ‘Any sign of them?’

‘Negative.’

‘Liaise with CCTV. See if they took up his tracks when he left the shop?’ He signed off the call, our eyes met and he sent me a determined look.
We will get him
. He beckoned to Pat to give him the ball. ‘If he’s buying toys, that’s a good sign, no?’ he asked me.

‘Sure. The psychopath is buying shit for my son.’

Bairden opened his mouth as if to explain what he meant, but changed his mind and closed it again.

We heard the house phone ring. Moments later Mum opened the kitchen window and called to me.

‘It’s for you, Andy. One of the guys from work.’

‘What do they want?’ I asked no one in particular. ‘You guys keep working at your skills,’ I winked at Pat and sent a smile of apology to Bairden. ‘I better go and see what can’t wait for Monday.’

When I walked into the hall Mum handed me the phone and whispered, ‘It’s Jim.’ She then gave me a look of warning. ‘I don’t know what you two are up to, but if it gets any of my boys hurt I’ll bloody kill you.’

I looked at her as I held the phone up to my ear. ‘Nothing to worry about, Mum.’

‘Yes?’ I said into the phone.

‘If you’d get yourself one of those mobile phones that would have made this a whole lot easier.’

‘What’s going on, Jim?’

‘The young lassie that works in the Early Leaning Centre recognised me. Said that Ryan was quite chirpy when he was in…’

‘You didn’t—’ I tried to interrupt.

‘I didn’t let on anything was wrong. Kidded on the wee fella was with a mate while I was buying him a present in another shop.’

‘And?’

‘The weirdo bought Ryan a fishing net. You know one of those wee nets at the end of a long pole? And a red bucket.’

‘Anything else?’

‘A dinosaur,’ Jim said with a
what else
tone.

‘Right,’ I said thinking out loud. Listened for noises from the back garden and was satisfied that Bairden and Pat were otherwise occupied. ‘Where are you now?’

I
gave Mum a peck on the cheek, a hug, and said, ‘I’m going to get my son.’

I couldn’t face her if she was showing any negativity, so I walked out of the front door without looking back. By the time I reached the end of the street Jim had arrived in his big black car.

I got in and looked at him.

‘Fucking idiot,’ I said.

‘Well-meaning fucking idiot,’ he corrected me.

‘Why would you even think … and why would you …?’ The questions crowded my mind and I couldn’t articulate what bothered me most about his ‘confession’.

‘Andy, let’s do that later, eh? We have a wee boy to find.’

‘Drive then,’ I replied.

We drove in silence for a few minutes and the route brought us down Holmston Road, with the town cemetery on our left and the ranks of mature broad-leafed trees that bordered the River Ayr on the right. I remembered happier times and walks down by the river. Skimming stones on a small beach just beyond the foot bridge with the red handrails.

‘So Hunter’s got it in for you, then,’ he said. ‘There’s a surprise.’

‘Mad fucker.’ I paused. Ground my teeth. ‘What the hell did I ever do to him?’

‘You got the girl. You got the happy ever after.’

‘Yeah,’ I gave a snort. ‘Look how that turned out.’

‘He was always a bit jealous of you,’ Jim said, his eyes on the road, but his mind clearly back in the past. ‘I remember one time, you must have been in third year at school, playing against Belmont
Academy. You skinned Hunter. Made him look like he had wooden feet. His eyes? I’ve never seen anything quite like it.’

‘So, he hates me cos I made an arse of him on the pitch?’

‘He’s a nut-job. Whenever do folk like that need a reason to do anything?’

‘Wait till I get my hands on him…’

‘I understand the impulse, brother, but if you get yourself locked up for ripping into him, how does that help the boys? No mum and then no dad?

‘Down there,’ I cocked my head to indicate the river. ‘Do you think he’d take Ryan and his net down the river?’

‘Worth a look.’ Jim indicated and pulled in at the side of the road, parking under the tall wall of the cemetery.

W
e crossed the road and half-walked, half-ran across the bridge and then made our way down to our left and a small pebble beach. There was no one there except a bald guy and his yellow Labrador.

‘Bob,’ he shouted, threw a stick downstream and the dog was off after the missile like his life depended on it.

‘Seen a man with a wee boy?’ Jim asked.

‘Sorry, mate. Haven’t seen anyone,’ he replied.

I looked around the beach. Noted empty cans of beer, the tinfoil of a disposable charcoal barbecue and an empty clear plastic pack that had once held burgers.

‘Might have cleaned up after themselves,’ the bald guy said when he saw where I was looking.

Nodding, I walked away. I was too disappointed to make conversation. Then called myself an idiot. What did I expect? To find Ryan that easily?

Back on the path, returning to the car, I asked Jim.

‘Where would someone go with a kid, who had no idea about kids?’

Jim looked at his watch. ‘It’s nearly tea time. He’ll be looking to feed the wee man.’

‘Fast food, eh? He doesn’t have a car,’ I said thinking out loud. ‘That suggests Burger King on the High Street. Right next door to the Early Learning Centre’

‘Shit,’ said Jim. ‘I didn’t think to check in there.’

‘Let’s go,’ I said, picking up my pace.

T
he burger bar was a bust. We walked the length of the place three times studying all the kids, almost got ourselves into a fight in the process when the father of what turned out to be a wee girl took exception to our presence.

The manager had to intervene to calm things down.

‘We’re looking for my son,’ I said. ‘He’s two and he’s with a tall, skinny bloke.’

A look of recognition on the manager’s face. ‘We had the police in earlier showing the photo of a wee lad.’ Pause. ‘That’s your son?’

I could only nod, my ability to speak temporarily on hold as disappointment took over. ‘Sorry, sir.’ He made a face of pity and I wanted to punch it out of him. ‘No one recognised the boy.’

Jim tugged at my arm. ‘Let’s go, Andy. ‘He’s not here.’

O
utside, I leaned against the window.

Fuck.

Where were they?

I closed my eyes in prayer and felt the heat of the early evening sun on my face.

‘It’s turned out a nice day,’ said Jim.

I looked at him.

‘Where might a wee boy with a fishing net want to go on a lovely summer’s evening like this?’ he asked pointedly.

And we were off at a run to the car again.

A
t the beach, Jim parked up at the harbour end and we walked down to the water’s edge. We turned and faced the wide curve of Ayr bay. The tide was out so we set out across the wet, sticky sand.

‘We should split up,’ said Jim as he looked to his left and the low grey wall that ran along the beach. Groups of people were clustered along its length, families taking advantage of the break in the weather, no doubt trying to get their kids into nature and away from TVs. ‘You walk along the water. I’ll take the wall.’

‘’Kay,’ I said and strode off, studying every child I saw.

‘Look for a net,’ Jim shouted after me. ‘And a red bucket.’

As I walked and searched I was encircled by good cheer at the simple things in life. Sunshine, sand and salt water lapping at my feet. All around me children of various ages, smiling parents and dogs. Laughter and barking. Screeches of joy. The high call of gulls.

And it all reached my senses through the filter of my fear. My heart was a cold zone. The only thing that would reach it, my son safe and sound in my arms.

I saw a small boy at the water’s edge. He was jumping each lazy wave and celebrating safe landing at the other side as if he was an Olympic winner. His parents celebrated with him and I wanted to shout at them: how can you be happy at this moment?

Three kids in a group were clustered around a jellyfish. The creature was about the size of a large pizza and they were daring each other to poke at it with sticks.

A black-and-white collie, his head low to the ground, sprinted past after a ball. Just beyond, a small boy on his own.

With a lurch, I recognised the blond tuft of hair and his wide-footed stance. I ran over, grabbed him, he turned, a cry coming out of his mouth.

‘Sorry, son,’ I managed to say, when I saw it isn’t Ryan. The boy wailed, frightened. I heard a stampede behind me and two people I assumed to be his parents reached us. They both looked like they were in their late teens. The mother was red-faced with indignation and the father all beard and bristle.

‘What the hell are you playing at, mate?’ The father demanded.

‘I’m so sorry, wee pal,’ I said. The boy was in his mother’s arms,
head on her shoulder. ‘So sorry.’ I reached out to try and touch him, but the mother twisted him away from my reach.

‘What’s your deal, pal?’ asked the father.

I looked at them, thinking that should be me. Protecting my son. I opened my mouth to explain. Closed it again. I didn’t want their pity. Or their judgement. Face burning, I turned from them, I mumbled another apology and strode away.

‘I’m phoning the polis, you freak,’ shouted the father.

I turned to him and held my hands out in a placatory motion. ‘Please,’ I said, ‘I’m so sorry. I thought he was…’ I turned away again. I didn’t want them to understand. I didn’t want them to do anything but leave me alone.

I kept walking. Kicked at the surf. Skirted a couple of giant jellyfish.

Ryan, where are you? I stood still and, hand up to my forehead, scanned the length of the shoreline. Nothing I could see gave me hope.

Over to my left Jim was walking on top of the wall. Good idea, I thought. That would give him scope to check beachside and those people who hadn’t ventured onto the sand.

Beyond him I could see the four white towers of Ayr Pavilion. There was a kid’s soft-play area there. Pirate Pete’s. It would be worth checking if our beach search proved unsuccessful.

Jim had paused in his walk and was looking down at me at the water’s edge as if wondering what I was doing. I waved him on and continued walking.

More jellyfish.

More dogs.

More kids.

No Ryan.

K
eep moving, I told myself. Keep moving.

You’ll find him.

A heavy lurch in my gut and a sourness in my mouth.

But what if…

I stumbled. Breath caught in my throat. I hunched over, hands just above my knees and forced air into my lungs. Don’t go there, Andy. He’s not been gone a day yet. You’ll find him. Besides, Hunter was a bully and like all bullies it was a sense of power he was trying to assert over his victim. Ryan was a small child, therefore his ‘power’ was assured. There was nothing to assert.

It was flimsy reasoning, but for that moment it offered me some hope. And in that moment hope was all I had.

At this end of the beach, the curve of the water’s edge brought me closer to the wall and I could see Jim walking on the pavement, a grim expression on his face. He stopped an elderly couple. Spoke. They each shook their heads. The woman reached out and touched his arm before they walked away.

A toddler and his sister walked in front of me, hand in hand. The sister gave the boy a stone and told him to make a big splash. He threw it, his arm coming across his body but the stone plinked into the sand just inches away from him.

‘Way,’ she cheered. ‘That was good.’

‘Again,’ he chanted. ‘Again.’

I put a spurt on. Their happiness was a wound I couldn’t bear.

Just ahead of me was the Seafield end of the beach. There was a ramp from the road down to the water’s edge, a flat-roofed shop and restaurant and beyond that a stretch of sand dunes.

We played here a lot as kids, the marram grass that topped the
dunes the bane of my short-trousered legs. But as a teen it was the perfect spot to take a girl to engage in some heavy petting. You could set a towel down among the dunes and hide from the world together.

This end of the beach was quieter and therefore easier to navigate. As I passed the shop I could see just a few people ahead of me and none of them were the height of Ryan.

I wondered if I should stop here and turned to see what Jim was doing, but he was obscured by the height of the dunes and the lack of a shout from him suggested that he had kept on walking.

Minutes later I was approaching the small estuary where the River Doon flowed into the sea. There was nothing here but swans and gulls, so I turned to look for Jim. The dunes were much flatter at this point, so I could see him. He was on top of the wall, arms stretched wide in question. I shook my head and turned to walk back.

Hopeless, this was hopeless.

I kicked at the water.

Fucking hopeless.

Hands deep in my pockets, shoulders hunched, I made my way back along the beach.

A hundred yards away a man was crouched at the water’s edge, trousers rolled up past his knees. Where did he come from? I looked to my right and the sand dunes. He must have been sitting up there, out of sight.

I walked closer. Something about him was familiar. And as I did so I could see that his bulk was hiding the shape of someone else. A small someone else.

A boy.

I tried to speak, but it came out in a squeak.

‘Ryan?’

I picked up my pace. Cleared my throat.

‘Ryan?’

Was it him? I held my expectation as I might hold my breath.

The man was being solicitous. His shoulders were moving in laughter. I could see him put his hand on the boy’s back. Offering
support. And the breeze brought me the sound of his answering laugh. High and unrestrained.

They were so caught up in their game, neither of them heard me approach. The boy stepped beyond the man in search of something in the water. My heart turned solid in my chest and I somehow managed to speak.

It was the small red bucket at his feet that did it.

‘Ryan?’ I said.