Tags:
Fiction,
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Suspense,
Thrillers,
Mystery & Detective,
Crime,
Mystery,
Mystery; Thriller & Suspense,
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amateur sleuth,
Murder,
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International Mystery & Crime,
Noir,
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Kidnapping,
Amateur Sleuths
He remembered the case. The Harlingtons were a wealthy family and the press had feasted on the story.
‘For months we waited for a ransom demand to tell us Joseph was alive. Something, some kind of contact telling us what they wanted and how we could get Joseph back. But nothing ever came. As time went by, Jackson and the police became convinced he was dead. But I never gave up hope.’
She looked up, and smiled through the tears.
‘I knew my son was still alive.’
CHAPTER 21
‘ I NEED TO ask you if the two names Michael Duncan and Richard Winn mean anything to you,’ asked Roscoe.
‘They’re the two dead men, aren’t they?’ Jocasta Harlington said with absolute certainty. ‘Michael Duncan was our driver when Joseph was taken. Richard Winn was our chef.’ She gave a shallow, bitter laugh. ‘We really did have everything money could buy.’
‘Did the police question them when Joseph was taken?’
‘Everyone was questioned. Over and over. Jackson. Even me.’
‘And after the kidnap, what happened to them?’ continued Roscoe.
‘They stayed around for a while. But I didn’t want people coming in and out of the house so Jackson let Winn go pretty quickly. He still needed a driver so I think he kept Duncan on. He never came inside the house again though.’
‘I have to ask you this, Mrs Harlington,’ Roscoe said, looking at her directly, taking in her ravaged, tear-stained face, ‘but did you suspect them?’
She sighed. ‘Never directly, but I thought it could have been somebody associated with the business. Or someone who knew us. Everyone knew we had a lot of money but no ransom demand was ever made.’
Roscoe hesitated. ‘And Mrs Harlington, I don’t like to ask this—’
‘Did I ever suspect Jackson was involved?’ Jocasta interrupted, and Roscoe knew she was voicing a question she had never dared ask herself for the past sixteen years.
‘Did you?’
Jocasta looked at her daughter and then across to Oscar Miller, who still leant against the office desk. Turning back to Roscoe, she said with great certainty, ‘No, never.’
‘Why not?’ he said quickly, aware that he was pushing her but needing answers. ‘He employed the driver? He employed the chef?’
‘He did.’
‘And then Joseph disappeared.’
‘Jackson was in bed with me at the time,’ Jocasta said sharply, raising her voice. ‘Neither of us heard a sound. He would never have done this. Never!’
‘But now he’s dead. And so is Duncan. And so is Winn.’ Roscoe feared he might bully Jocasta into answering but he had to know. ‘And from the news report it would seem that Winn had held your son captive for the past sixteen years.’
But Jocasta’s head was in her hands again, and Roscoe watched her crying uncontrollably as her daughter held her closely.
The room was silent except for the sounds of Jocasta’s sobs and Anna typing on the computer keyboard. Roscoe looked across to her and she gestured for him to come and look at the monitor. She was scanning the original press reports surrounding the case when Joseph had first disappeared.
Four days after their child had been abducted, a press conference was held where the Harlingtons appealed directly to the kidnapper to contact them and let them bring their son home. At the same time, the lead investigating officer made a plea to any member of the public with information surrounding the kidnapping to please come forward.
Anna clicked on the embedded video clip of the press conference.
‘If anyone has any information on the kidnapping of Joseph Harlington,’ the officer said, ‘however small or insignificant they think the information might be, please call the number displayed on the screen now. We have officers waiting to take your calls as I speak. Or, if you prefer, you may ask to speak with me directly.
My name is Detective Sergeant Peter Savage.’
CHAPTER 22
ROSCOE DIVED ACROSS the room and out into the lobby.
‘Savage!’ he yelled across the