Cry of the Children (23 page)

‘Wretched boy indeed, Mr Boyd. Poor Raymond is in a wretched situation, if indeed he is still alive. Do you think he is still alive, Mr Boyd?'

‘I don't know. I told you, I don't even know the boy.'

They both stared at him without comment, making him wish he'd been able to state what he had just said even more vehemently and convincingly. It was Hook who now said to him, much less aggressively, ‘What have you been doing since we spoke with you on Sunday, Mr Boyd?'

Matt couldn't believe it was only four days ago. It seemed to him much longer than that. He tried to be conciliatory, in response to Hook's quieter approach. ‘I've been working. Trying to earn an honest penny and keep the car industry going.' His nervous giggle fell oddly into the echoing cube of the interview room. ‘I've now taken a couple of days' leave; that is why I am available to speak to you now.'

‘Getting on well, are you, in this second choice of career?'

Matt tried to ignore the last phrase, but his mind reeled in the face of what might be coming next. ‘I'm doing well enough. People always need parts and accessories for vehicles, even in a recession. If people are forced to hang on to their cars for longer, they need batteries, exhausts, tyres. Headlights and side-lights get broken. Cars are more reliable and they rust less than they did thirty years ago. But if people use them for longer, that makes good business for people like me.'

It was a spiel he had delivered many times before and it fell a little too readily from his lips. It echoed in his ears like a rehearsed speech. To Hook, it sounded exactly what it was: a rather desperate attempt to divert attention away from the mention of a second career that had been thrown at him. ‘We've spoken to your ex-wife. That's how we heard about your earlier career.'

‘There was no need for you to contact Hannah. That's the action of someone operating in a police state.'

‘It's routine procedure in a case as serious as that of Lucy Gibson. When the last person seen with a girl who is later found dead has no alibi, we investigate his background thoroughly. We do the same thing with other people who might be suspects.'

‘And how many of those have you followed up in this kind of detail?'

‘You wouldn't expect me to answer that, Matthew. Tell us about your previous experience with children.'

‘Why should I? You seem to know all about it.'

‘We know a little. Perhaps, indeed, we know quite a lot. But we'd like to have your version of events. That would surely be much fairer.'

‘It's a long time ago. Ten years and more. I was training for teaching. I decided it wasn't for me. That's all there is to it.'

‘Wouldn't it be fairer to say that others decided that it was not for you? That you were given little choice in the matter and were relieved to extricate yourself without the matter going to court?'

‘No! The matter was blown out of all proportion by a hysterical parent. I offered comfort to over-excited seven-year-olds; that was all I did. And the thanks I got for it was to be hounded out of my training by a head teacher and governors who weren't prepared to listen to my arguments!' He had been over this so often, both in his own mind and with that sour-faced ex-wife of his, that he had almost convinced himself of the righteousness of his case.

‘Teachers, let alone trainee teachers, are not allowed to touch children nowadays.'

‘It's ridiculous!'

‘However ridiculous it may be, you were well aware of the rules. Why did you break them, Matthew?'

‘I was offering comfort. I behaved perfectly reasonably.'

‘That wasn't what others thought at the time, was it? It was only by signing a statement to the effect that you would withdraw from teacher training and undertake no employment that involved contact with children that you avoided charges of indecent assault on two minors.'

‘It was all rubbish! It was blown up out of all proportion. I wish I'd gone to court and fought it. I'd have won the case.'

‘We'll never know that, will we? Such evidence as there is does not support your view. When you applied with your wife to become adoptive parents five years later, you were turned down because of this history.'

Matt stared hopelessly at the table in front of him. ‘We should never have applied. You get turned down for any little thing. They're talking of making it easier to adopt now, but they rejected you for piddling little things then. We should never have applied after the way I was driven out of teaching, but Hannah wanted to try and I went along with it.'

Hook gave him a few seconds to see if he would add anything to this. Then he said quietly, ‘If you put yourself in our position, Matthew, you will see that we cannot simply discount this. It doesn't make you guilty, but it strengthens the case against you. Have you seen Anthea Gibson since the weekend?'

He thought he had been prepared for the question, but the sudden switch back to the present from events of a decade ago caught him off guard. His mind wouldn't work as he wanted it to. He decided he had better tell them the truth. For all he knew, they'd had him followed; perhaps they had even spoken again to Anthea herself. He said sullenly, ‘I called in there on Tuesday. I wanted to tell her how sorry I was about Lucy. I didn't know what sort of reception I'd get. I still feel guilty because I was with Lucy when she was snatched.'

‘But Mrs Gibson didn't send you packing.'

It sounded as if they knew, as if they were inviting him to plunge deeper into trouble. ‘No. It was awkward at first, but I'd expected that. She'd only just come back home. She'd been staying with her sister in Gloucester. I think she was finding it difficult, being in the house on her own, without Lucy. Well, you would, wouldn't you?'

‘Did you stay the night?'

‘Yes. I was going to stay downstairs on the sofa, but I ended up in Anthea's bed. At her invitation, I should add, since you seem determined to think the worst of me.'

He wondered if they would ask if there had been intercourse; being a suspect in something like this seemed to rob you of any shred of privacy. But all Hook said was, ‘Have you been staying there since then?'

‘No. I'm staying in the digs in Oldford where I used to stay before I ever knew Anthea. I wanted to be nearby if she wanted me, but not in her house. Apart from Tuesday night, I've stayed in my digs. I think I shall do so until after Lucy's funeral. I'll let Anthea decide on that – she knows that I'm around, if she needs me.'

Simple words were concealing the intense and tangled emotions of two people who had been through unspeakable things in the last five days. Hook wondered what Lucy Gibson's mother really thought of Matthew Boyd, whether sexual attraction could survive his connection to the death of her daughter, even if she did not believe that he had any direct connection. He said quietly, ‘Where were you last night, Matt?'

‘That's when this boy went missing, isn't it?' He wondered if Hook would tell him that he was here to answer questions, not ask them, but both detectives merely maintained a watchful, expectant silence. He said heavily, hopelessly, ‘This has nothing to do with me.'

‘We need to know where you were last night, Matt.' Hook was quiet, almost apologetic, but nonetheless insistent.

Matt gave a deep sigh. ‘I was in my digs. I can give you the address.' He did that, then looked hard at them, wondering if they already knew it, wondering if he had been followed ever since he had left them on Sunday.

‘Is there anyone who can confirm that you were there throughout the evening?'

‘No. My landlady was out from around seven until ten thirty.'

Hook wondered a little at the precision of this. It sounded like a prepared answer, but he couldn't see why Boyd would have had it ready, when it was so unhelpful for him. ‘Did you receive any phone calls?'

‘No. I rang Anthea on my mobile at about six thirty to check on how she was feeling. She didn't invite me round and I didn't suggest it. To tell you the truth, I wasn't sure whether I wanted to go.'

Hook nodded. ‘It's a funny expression that, don't you think? “To tell you the truth.” It almost makes it sound as if you haven't been telling the truth up to that point. Did you take your car out last night?'

‘No. I've already told you that I didn't leave my digs.'

‘Which, unfortunately, no one can confirm. Were you in Church Lane in Oldford at any time between seven and eight last night? You should realize that it would be much better to admit to it now, if you were.'

‘But I wasn't. That is what I wish you to record.'

‘I now ask you formally: do you know an eight-year-old boy named Raymond Barrington?'

‘No. I've never even heard the name.'

‘Have you any idea of his present whereabouts?'

‘No. Of course I haven't. You must have better candidates to pursue than me.'

‘Matt, you are a man we have not been able to clear from involvement in the murder of a child last Saturday night. You were forced to leave your teacher training course because of child abuse. You are unable to establish where you were last night at the time a boy disappeared within a quarter of a mile of your lodgings. Do you really expect us to ignore you?'

Boyd tried not to panic. It sounded very damning when Hook itemized it like that. And DS Hook seemed to be the sympathetic cop. Matt said, ‘That must seem impressive, from your point of view. From where I stand, knowing that I am completely innocent of both these crimes, it seems unfair and bizarre.'

‘We shall need to examine your car.'

‘You're welcome to do that.' He kept his face as neutral as he could. ‘It's being valeted as we speak.'

Hook felt Lambert tensing beside him. ‘A process that is no doubt removing anything that might be of interest to our forensic team. Why is the car being valeted?'

Matt didn't shrug his shoulders; they were far too tense for that. ‘I took advantage of the fact that I wasn't working to have the car made spick and span. It's important that I present myself decently when I'm selling vehicle spares. That extends to the condition of my car, inside and out.'

They stared at him for a moment, challenging him to say more, inviting him to condemn himself by elaborating his case. Then Lambert asked quietly, ‘When was your car last valeted?'

‘I put it through the carwash every week, but it was last valeted about a month ago, I think. I could check it for you, if you think it necessary.'

‘It is necessary. Give me the name and telephone number of the firm who did it, please. We'll check the date with them.'

Matt felt his pulse racing, but he gave them the name of the company as calmly as he could. ‘I don't have their number here, but you'll find it easily enough.'

‘We will indeed. We'll need to check this date out with them, and also the normal intervals between the valeting of your car. We'll do that before you leave the station.'

The implication was clear. They didn't trust him. If the car hadn't been due for a valeting today, they'd be all over him again about why he was having it so thoroughly cleaned this morning. He said woodenly, ‘I understand that. I don't know this boy who was taken last night. And I'd rather you didn't tell Anthea Gibson about that nonsense that ended my teacher training.'

R
aymond Barrington wasn't dead. He told himself that, told himself that so far it had not been as bad as he had expected. Then he tried not to think about what might be in store for him.

After the monster had gone, Raymond lay for a little while on the cushions where he had spent the night. It seemed the appropriate place, simply because it was where he had been tethered for so long. Settling down again there felt like returning to a prison cell after being let out for breakfast. He knew that he was free to move around the room now. In a while he would feel bold enough to do that, but for the moment it felt to him that it would be breaking the monster's rules to move away from where he had been tethered.

That was a silly thing to feel, because his leg had been freed from its cord. Even though he had been tied to the bed for no more than ten or twelve hours, he could hardly believe that he could now move his leg freely, could climb slowly and gingerly to his feet. He did that, then glanced fearfully around him. The monster's presence seemed to hang over the room, so that Raymond feared being seized again by the scruff of his neck and flung to the floor. But he forced himself stiffly upright, then put his shoulders back, as Mrs Allen said he should do. He was going to be a big boy, and tall boys shouldn't slouch, Mrs Allen said. As he wondered how far away she was, he found himself biting his lip to keep back the tears. Raymond had done that quite a lot over the years.

He moved around the big room, very slowly. He felt as if every step might activate some screaming alarm and bring the monster racing back to kill him. He checked the door and the window. Both were locked, as he had known they would be. He found that rather a relief, as he wouldn't have known where to go if he'd got out of this place, and he feared what the monster would do to him if it caught him and found that he'd even tried to escape.

He pressed on the switch beside the door, but the light didn't come on, as he had somehow known it wouldn't. He tried not to think about what the monster might be planning for him. Was it like the giant in
Jack and the Beanstalk
? Would it shout ‘Fee, fi, foh, fum!' in that huge voice? Would it eat boys for lunch? He didn't think so. It didn't seem quite as huge or as awful as Jack's giant. Raymond thought it had been a little more friendly this morning. It had brought him some breakfast, hadn't it? And it had left food for him in the big plastic bag.

He still wasn't sure whether the monster was male or female. It was so muffled up and it spoke so little. And all of its words came in that strange, gruff voice that he could scarcely interpret. Raymond wondered for a while whether he wanted it to be male or female. Females hadn't been very kind to him, apart from Mrs Allen. He wouldn't mind it being male if it was anything like Mr Kennedy, the only male teacher in his school. Mr Kennedy brought him books and talked to him at lunchtimes. Mr Kennedy had told him that he was an intelligent boy who must make the most of his schooling, because that was how he would make his way in life.