Free Cry of the Children by J.M. Gregson Page A

I
wanted
to think she was hiding. I couldn’t get my head round the idea that she’d simply disappeared.’
    â€˜But it didn’t take you eighty minutes to decide that a seven-year-old wasn’t playing hide and seek with you.’
    It was a statement, not a question. That was another signal that he was on trial here, or at least meant to feel that he was. What he had meant to deliver as bold and convincing statements were being made to sound like a weak and desperate defence. ‘I looked for her. I went all round the fairground. I asked one or two of the stallholders whether they’d seen a little girl on her own, but none of them had. As one of them said, looking for a kid in a fairground is like searching for a needle in a haystack. I searched the wood beside the fairground – well, searched it as well as I could. I needed a torch really, but I hadn’t got one and I hadn’t even got my mobile phone: I’d left it behind at Anthea’s house’
    Lambert spoke more gently this time. ‘Eighty minutes is a long time, Mr Boyd.’
    â€˜I know it is. I suppose part of the reason I took so long is that I didn’t want to face Anthea and tell her that I’d lost her little girl, when she’d trusted me with her. I even came back and got my car to search a wider area.’
    Lambert nodded whilst Hook made a note of that. ‘So you returned to the house and gave Anthea the bad news at around nine o’clock. The call reporting that Lucy was missing was logged at this station at nine fifty-four. Why this additional delay?’
    â€˜I had to calm Anthea down. Or try to – she was hysterical.’
    â€˜Then surely she would have been anxious to let us know what had happened as quickly as possible.’
    Again the statement. Again the ringing logic that made his story sound like a pack of lies. Matt said in a low, defeated voice, ‘That was me. I thought we should ring all her friends’ houses, all the places where she might possibly have gone, before we rang the police. I said that was the first thing they would ask us to do anyway.’
    â€˜You may well be right about that. But we could also have been taking other steps, setting a search in motion. Mr Boyd, have you any further thoughts to offer?’
    Matt shook his head hopelessly. ‘No. I think now that someone snatched her and was away through the woods with her before I or anyone else realized anything was wrong. It seems the only possible solution.’
    There were others, but Lambert wasn’t about to offer them. He said merely, ‘Please don’t leave the area without furnishing us with an address, Mr Boyd.’

FIVE
    E leanor Hook saw how drawn and tired Bert looked as soon as he entered the house. That wasn’t usual for Bert, who generally enjoyed his work, despite his routine protests on occasions at the dullness of it. Tonight he came into their home wishing heartily for a little of that dullness.
    â€˜Supper won’t be long,’ she said.
    He looked at her for a moment as if he had not understood, then nodded and slumped into an armchair.
    Eleanor got herself a gin and tonic and set a glass and a can of beer on the small table by Hook’s elbow. ‘Thanks,’ he said quietly. He summoned up a small, grateful smile for her, then stared into space. After a moment, he tilted the glass and poured the contents of the can into it with elaborate care, as if he could shut out the rest of his day by this simple act of concentration.
    Eleanor sat down opposite him but didn’t speak. They had married relatively late by police standards, when both of them were in their late twenties and recovering from broken engagements. It was a relaxed and happy union; they often didn’t need words. It wasn’t until Bert gave a long sigh and said, ‘We haven’t found her,’ that Eleanor chose to speak.
    â€˜You saw the mother?’ Eleanor