She’d barely had time to park her bum on the seat at her desk, but at least she knew Mason was onto mobile SPOC and she could rely on him to keep that ball in the air for as long as it took.
‘Pop them in interview room three, if you would.’ The chairs would still be warm. ‘Offer them a drink. I’ll be there in a sec.’
She left her jacket on the back of her chair, scooped up the pad and pen she’d only just put down and marched through the outer office, conscious that an entire day was about to disappear from under her and the workload was piling high. She needed to prioritise and delegate, but until she knew what this was about, prioritising and delegating would have to wait.
‘Ryan.’ She jerked her head in the direction of the exit door and smiled as he trotted to catch up with her. As they skimmed their way down the stairs, she turned to look at him. ‘We have some concerned parents. Apparently, their son is missing. I know nothing except there may be a connection with Poppy.’ They paused outside the interview room and she handed him her notepad, her pen. ‘You take the lead.’
His eyes shot wide. ‘Me?’ He’d never taken the lead in her presence. He was more than capable and had done so on many occasions, just not with her observing.
Tempted to laugh, she swung the door wide instead and introduced herself and Ryan to the anxious parents.
As Ryan fiddled with the pen top for a moment to get his equilibrium, Jenna skimmed her gaze over Mr and Mrs Abbott. Middle-class, middle-aged.
Mr Abbott wore the world-weary look of an accountant waiting for retirement. His shiny, excessively dry-cleaned suit hung limp from his shoulders as though he’d recently lost weight but not bothered to buy a new one. His tie lay flat but skewed to one side like an afterthought as he’d rushed out of the door.
Mrs Abbott’s deep-set, dark brown eyes contained the sheer horror of someone who knew without a doubt the news was bad. Instinct. Premonition. Some people had it and the knowledge was already there. It was just a case of how long she could contain the truth from being confirmed. Her fingers trembled as she picked up the white plastic cup filled with water. She took a sip and placed it back down.
‘Mr and Mrs Abbott, I believe you have a concern regarding your son.’ Ryan scratched a note on the pad. The shortened version of the date. He raised his head and tilted it to one side with a clear invitation for them to talk.
With a quick pull of pride at her young detective’s sympathetic, inviting approach, Jenna leaned back in her seat comfortable to let him continue.
‘He’s missing. Our son, Aiden.’ Mrs Abbott’s voice hitched and she sucked in a deep breath before she continued. ‘He hasn’t been home all weekend. And then we saw Trudy Maxwell and her daughter, umm, Sophie, outside just now and they said there’d been a fire. A fire at Poppy Lawrence’s house. And Aiden is missing.’
Trying to keep up with the logic of the woman’s ramblings, Jenna blinked.
As Mrs Abbott gushed, Mr Abbott reached out a hand and squeezed hers. ‘Now, Sharon, don’t panic. It’s fine.’ He turned helpless eyes on them. ‘She were okay until we saw the Maxwells. We’d not heard of the fire. We’ve been away for a long weekend visiting ’er mother.’ He gave a sideways jerk of his head to indicate his wife.
‘We should never have left him.’ Mrs Abbott turned her hand over in his.
‘Give over, we’ve left him before, he’s almost eighteen. There was nowt wrong with leaving him.’
‘Except now he’s missing.’ Her voice cracked and she raised trembling fingers to her mouth.
‘Not necessarily.’ In a desperate bid to keep his wife’s building hysteria under control, Mr Abbott appealed to Ryan. ‘He’s a good lad. He really is, but lately he’s been a typical teenager. Bloody terrible at communicating with us. Last we heard from him was umm, Saturday night, I think?’
He looked to his wife for confirmation, and she gave a brisk nod, her jowls slack. She placed her hand over her mouth as a dull whine escaped her lips. An animal in pain.
Jenna’s chest tightened and she stared down at her own hands, firmly gripping each other. She slipped them from the table and rested them in her lap.
Ryan scratched a few notes, his ears turned a burnished red and Jenna felt his compassion for the couple. ‘When did you get back?’
‘Late last night. We didn’t want to disturb him, so we went straight to bed. Sneaked in like a pair of bloody thieves because he was supposed to be on a field trip today.’
Mrs Abbott reached for the handbag she’d placed on the table and took out a phone. She dipped her fingers back inside and came out with a small packet of pocket tissues. With controlled slowness, she unfolded one and gave her nose a loud blow. ‘I got up early this morning to prepare his lunch. I always do if he’s on a school trip. He had a geography field trip to Aberystwyth. And besides, I wanted to see him before he went, just to see how his weekend had been. He’s a responsible boy. We trust him.’
She wiped her nose again, and then dabbed at her eyes.
‘I went to check if he was up, but his bedroom was empty. His bed still made.’
‘He never makes his own bloody bed, it only needs the quilt pulling straight, but he never does it. That’s how she knew.’ Clearly rattled, Mr Abbott squeezed his wife’s hand.
Ryan let them run with their story, jotting down notes and lifting his head every so often to give them an encouraging nod. He had a good interview manner; if they wanted to pour it all out, as long as it was relevant, let them, otherwise pull them in, reel them back with relevant questions. He had no reason to yet.
‘Aye.’ Mr Abbott patted her hand again. ‘That’s when we realised, he’d not been there much, if at all.’
‘All the food was still in the fridge.’ A pained sob broke through as Mrs Abbott blinked away tears.
Jenna narrowed her eyes, an uncomfortable warmth building in the pit of her stomach.
‘’E never leaves a scrap of food in fridge by the time we come home from work, never mind a few days away.’
‘We phoned the school, they said he hadn’t turned up yesterday. They never told us, but they don’t any more. He’s considered a young adult.’ She gave a little shrug of disdain. ‘Hardly an adult at that age.’
‘Aye, not when he’s still being financed and supported by us.’
Mrs Abbott gave her husband a sharp elbow to the ribs. ‘Anyway, we thought we’d come here and ask.’ She drew in a long breath. ‘And then we met Trudy and Sophie. We asked if Sophie had seen him. And then she told us…’
With a quick whip of interest, Jenna leaned in closer. ‘Told you what?’
Mrs Abbott’s mouth trembled. ‘Told us that Aiden had been seeing young Poppy Lawrence. That he’d been over to their place for dinner on Saturday night because Poppy had told her mum we’d gone away, and he’d be alone.’
38
Tuesday 21 April 1130 hours
Jenna pressed her fingers deep into her eye sockets while Ryan waited patiently on the other side of her desk, notepad and pen still in his hand.
‘Well, for fuck’s sake! It doesn’t matter which way you look at it, things just aren’t adding up.’ Voice muffled through her hands, she dropped them down to the desk and stared at her young DC and the older, more experienced one who’d drifted in behind him.