Think of the Children (34 page)

The night was cold and Jessica could see her breath drifting out of her mouth. She looked up at Annabel, who was sitting in a similar chair. ‘Are you okay?’ Jessica asked. Annabel
said nothing but she could see plumes of air coming from the other woman’s mouth too. ‘I’m sorry,’ Jessica added, knowing it meant nothing.

Both women looked up as they heard a gentle tapping sound on the wood at the back of the shed. ‘Be brave,’ Jessica whispered as everything went silent again. She could hear footsteps
outside, a mixture of crunching from the frost and squelching from the puddles that hadn’t frozen over. Jessica found herself holding her breath as the door rattled and then opened. In the
dark, a silhouette of a man stepped into the room.

‘Hello?’ he said.

Before he had finished speaking, the door banged into place with the sound of a padlock slotting into the bracket. The man spun around towards the door with a startled ‘hey’ as
Jessica pressed the button to turn on the light they had rigged up. She found herself squinting as the bright white lamp illuminated the room and the man twisted to face her.

His eyes were wide with surprise as Jessica spoke. ‘Hello, Toby.’

The man had gelled black hair with trimmed stubble on his chin. He had dressed for the weather, with a pair of heavy boots, jeans and a thick coat. He blinked rapidly, stunned
by the light, and stared open-mouthed at Jessica, then noticed Annabel sitting to his right. ‘What?’ he said, barely able to get the words out.

‘Do you want to sit down?’ Jessica asked, pointing towards another fold-up chair resting against the wall. He turned around and tried to open the door. ‘It’s
locked,’ Jessica added. ‘And people are outside so don’t even bother. I think it’s time for a chat.’

The man turned around and looked from Jessica to Annabel then back again. ‘Who are you?’ he asked.

Jessica snorted involuntarily. ‘That’s an odd question coming from you. I’m Detective Sergeant Jessica Daniel and this, as I’m sure you remember, is your sister.
Don’t worry about Deborah, she’s fine. I just borrowed her phone to send you a text message.’

The man shook his head. ‘I really think you’ve got the wrong person,’ he said, reaching back towards the door. ‘My name’s Stephen.’

Jessica nodded. ‘I know, we’ve met. Do you remember when I was leaving Deborah’s house with a colleague, and you were walking down the drive?’ The man nodded slowly.
‘“Friend of the family”, that’s what Deborah told us you were at the time.’

The man picked up on her words. ‘That’s right.’

‘You’re not, though, are you?’

‘Why do you think that?’ He was still standing close to the door, looking at Jessica.

‘A hunch, a turn of phrase, a photograph. If you were just a friend, why would she call you “dear”? Why would there be pictures of you with both Benjamin and Deborah from when
you were younger?’

It had been the way Lucy Martin called Olivia ‘dear’ that had made the connection for Jessica – it had been exactly how Deborah referred to the man on her driveway all those
weeks ago. It was all in the tone of voice, an inflection of concern that didn’t happen when you were speaking to a random person.

‘What’s wrong with that?’ Stephen countered.

‘Why would someone keep pictures of themselves posing with a teenager if it wasn’t their own child?’

He stared back at Jessica defiantly.

‘I didn’t even notice it the first time I was at Benjamin’s house,’ she continued. ‘Everything was so normal, pictures of an apparently happy family. It was the
type of thing you wouldn’t even notice but I checked the records. Benjamin and Deborah had a son named Stephen – but he died within a week of being born a few months before you went
missing. One of your friendly teachers took you home one night and never gave you back. After everything had died down, they raised you as their own.’

Jessica paused for breath, trying to keep her emotions in check. ‘When I was a kid, all our neighbours knew who I was,’ she continued. ‘It was a bit of a pain because if I ever
got up to anything, it would always get back to my parents. I guess it depends on the area. I checked the housing records and within six months of you disappearing, Benjamin and Deborah moved into
a new house. I’m guessing their new neighbours would have assumed you were their son. If you happened to look a little like a boy who had been in the newspapers months earlier, then it was
just a coincidence.’

Stephen was still staring at Jessica. ‘Sit down or we’re going to be here all night,’ she added.

He turned around and picked up the chair, opening it out and placing it next to the door before sitting on it. Jessica didn’t need him to confirm or deny it to know she was right. On the
surface, it seemed so simple. For whatever reason, Benjamin and Deborah couldn’t have children after Stephen died, so they simply took one. Whether it was a Stockholm Syndrome situation with
the boy falling for his ‘captors’, or whether it was voluntary, Jessica didn’t know. For whatever reason, Toby – or Stephen – had willingly been brought up by parents
who weren’t his. By moving to the opposite end of the city, possibly dyeing his hair or doing something else to change his appearance, with new, unfamiliar neighbours, they didn’t have
any awkward questions to answer about where he came from.

None of that answered what had happened with Isaac though.

The man sat forward, hunched and ready to move quickly if necessary. ‘If I’m not Stephen, then how come that’s the name on my driving licence?’

That was one of the key things Jessica had struggled to figure out but she had stumbled across a possible answer on the Internet. She spoke firmly: ‘If the real Stephen was registered at
the hospital, Deborah and Benjamin could have applied for a birth certificate then. Given the speed things move, they might have received it in the post weeks after he had already died. Assuming
they kept it in a drawer, it would have been easy enough for you to use it to register yourself for a driving licence, as well as anything else you needed to live a normal life under a name that
isn’t yours.’

He didn’t say a word, locking eyes with Jessica in an uncomfortable silence.

Annabel interrupted their non-verbal sparring. ‘Why didn’t you come home?’

The man adjusted the way he was sitting and glanced towards Annabel, although Jessica could see he wasn’t looking high enough to meet her eyes.

‘Why?’ she repeated.

He glared at the ground but Annabel leapt to her feet and ran across the room, launching herself into him. The echo of the chair crashing to the ground rang around the room as the two people
collided. Jessica realised what was happening too slowly, jumping forward in an effort to pull Annabel away.

The man had been blindsided and knocked backwards with his coat and shirt ruffled up around his face. Annabel pointed towards him and spat out the word: ‘Look.’

Jessica squinted at where she was indicating and saw a zigzag-shaped mark across the man’s abdomen. As he picked himself up, Annabel returned to her seat. She made no attempt to hide the
fury in her voice. ‘Don’t tell me you don’t remember. I was only nine. We tied that rope to the tree on the edge of the park near our house. We were taking it in turns to run at
it and swing across the stream. I’d got across but you came sprinting over and slipped. You got one hand on the rope then landed sideways in the water.
That
scar comes from the rock
you hit when you landed.’

The man straightened his clothes but wouldn’t look up from the floor. ‘Just tell me your name,’ Annabel shouted at him.

‘Stephen,’ he replied quietly.

‘Oh, fuck you, Toby. Why didn’t you come home?’

For a moment, Jessica thought the man was going to remain silent but then, finally, he spoke. ‘Because I didn’t want to.’

Toby’s words hung in the air as he ran his hand through his now-dark hair. Jessica felt a mix of vindication for everything she had done, along with an almost overwhelming feeling of
regret because, in some ways, she had hoped she was wrong. Nobody said anything but Toby had finally met his sister’s stare.

‘Why?’ Annabel asked forcefully.

‘I enjoyed being with Ian and Deb. They bought me things, they looked after me.’

‘They
bought
you things? That’s why you chose to stay with them? Did they take you or did you go willingly?’

Toby spoke quietly but firmly. ‘None of your business.’

‘Is that all you’ve got to say to me? We thought you were dead. Mum still thinks you’re dead!’ Annabel didn’t sound upset, just angry. Jessica was already feeling
guilty about what she had asked the woman to do and was wondering if she had gone too far.

‘You don’t understand,’ Toby said dismissively.

‘So make me.’

‘I got bored. All the kids at school had everything I didn’t, Mum and Dad argued all the time. You got the best things because you were older.’

‘Are you joking? That’s it? You were only ten.’

‘Eleven.’

Annabel shook her head and kicked at the floor. ‘You’re disgusting.’

Jessica wondered how bad things could have been, but then she remembered Annabel had also left home and not returned. Lucy’s account might well have put a rose-tinted view on what life was
like with her and Dean. What Jessica did know is that there had to be something seriously wrong to make an eleven-year-old want to leave his birth parents and not go back. Everyone had moments as a
child where they threatened to leave home and not return. To have actually gone through with it must have meant he either genuinely hated it there or, even at such a young age, he was materialistic
enough to put gifts above everything else. She didn’t know which category Toby fell into.

‘You moved out too,’ Toby said.

‘How do you know that?’

‘I looked you up on the Internet a few years ago. I saw you’d moved and wondered if you were thinking like me. I was going to contact you but Dad convinced me not to.’

‘“Dad?”’

Toby didn’t reply to Annabel but looked towards Jessica. ‘Can I go now?’

Jessica narrowed her eyes and stared at him. ‘Did you ever live in this shed, Toby?’

‘For a bit.’

‘Do you know we found your old clothes? The football shirt and the rest.’

Toby smiled and shook his head mockingly. ‘It was in the papers, I’m not an idiot. Who do you think buried them there? It was time to say goodbye to the old Toby for good and embrace
Stephen.’

‘Why those woods?’

The man shrugged. ‘Why should I tell you?’

‘Tell me,’ Annabel shouted. ‘I’m still your sister.’

For the first time, Jessica could see pangs of regret in Toby’s face. He looked at the ground, as if embarrassed with himself. ‘Did you miss me?’ he asked quietly. There was no
edge to his tone, it was a genuine question.

‘Of course I did. I was your older sister.’

Toby nodded. ‘I missed you too.’

‘Why those woods, Toby?’ Jessica asked again.

Toby didn’t adjust his position and seemed to reply without thinking. ‘I wanted to return them to that place where we used to play football. I hadn’t been around there in years
but, when I went back, there were all these factories. I found those woods by accident but it was quiet and no one was around. It just felt right, like coming full circle.’

‘What about Isaac Hutchings?’ she asked.

‘What about him?’ The response was instant and dismissive.

‘Why did you take him?’

‘Who says I did?’ Toby turned to meet Jessica’s gaze, his eyes defiant, daring her to give him a good reason to continue speaking.

‘What do you usually call Deborah?’ Jessica asked.

‘Why?’

‘Just answer the question.’

Toby smiled slightly, shaking his head as if pitying the question. ‘I call her Mum, because she is.’

Jessica nodded. ‘You’ve got two options now, Toby. Option one is you tell me everything, then I take you to the station and you repeat it all on tape.’

‘Why would I do that?’ Toby grinned and stood. ‘You’ve got nothing on me. This is ridiculous, dragging my sister out because you think it’ll make me
confess.’

‘You only listened to option one.’

‘Fine, what’s the second one?’

‘Option two is I open that door and let you walk. Then I get in my car and drive straight to Deborah’s house. I’ll arrest her not only for your kidnap but for the kidnap and
murder of Isaac Hutchings. Either way, I get a conviction and me and my colleagues look shit-fucking-hot. Personally, I don’t care who goes down for it. It’s your choice.’

It was as big a lie as Jessica could have told.

‘How can you arrest her? You don’t have anything on her.’

‘Really? Well, for one, I sent you a text message using Deborah’s phone asking you to meet her at the shed. The fact you didn’t question her knowledge of it tells me she knows
all about this place. Admittedly that could never be used as evidence but it’s a start. What could be used is all the little bits. How about I go find some of your old neighbours and ask them
about little Stephen? How do you think that would go down in court along with the official records to show she never had a child? What about the photos at Benjamin’s house with you, him and
her? That’s pretty damning. It might be circumstantial but how do you think a jury would view that in relation to Isaac’s disappearance and everything that’s already been in the
media? I’m sure if we really looked into her alibi for that time Isaac was missing we might find a hole here or there. Do you want to take that risk?’

Toby stared at Jessica, eyes bulging with fury. ‘It wasn’t her.’

‘Do you think a jury will believe that?’ Jessica raised herself up from the seat and met the man’s gaze, assuring him she was serious, even though she had no idea if she would
be able to find anything like enough evidence.

‘What do you want me to do?’

‘I want you to sit down and tell me everything. Then I want you to go to the station and repeat it all.’

‘What about Mum?’

‘It’s up to you. If you want to tell us your name is Stephen and conveniently forget the Toby stuff, I couldn’t care less. I’m not helping you though so you’d
better have your story straight. Somewhere along the line you must have sorted yourself out with an identity but I don’t want to know. The deal is you tell us everything you did and, if no
one asks any other questions about Deborah, then she’s off the hook. If you drop her in it, then tough shit.’