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Finally, finally, finally, after twenty minutes, she finds something that feels a lot more tangible than listening to her own ramblings.
It’s on top of his wardrobe, right at the back, but not covered in dust, so not old.
It is a small grey oblong bundle held together by an elastic band. Jen climbs down from his desk chair and holds it in the flat of her hand. Drugs – she thinks it might be drugs. Her hands shake as she undoes the elastic, then peels open the bubble wrap.
It isn’t drugs.
The package contains three items.
A Merseyside Police badge. Not the full ID, just the leather wallet with the Merseyside crest on. On it is embroidered a number and a name: Ryan Hiles, 2648.
Jen fingers it. It’s cool in her hands. She holds it up to the light. How does a teenage boy come to have a police badge? She doesn’t chase that thought down the alley it wants to go down, though it’s obvious that it’s nothing good.
Next, folded into four neat squares, is a dog-eared A4 poster with a photograph of a baby on it, maybe four months old. Above him or her is written MISSING in red, blocky letters. There is a pinhole in the corner.
Jen blinks in shock. Missing. Missing babies? Police IDs? What is this dark world Todd’s been plunged into?
The final item is what looks like a pay-as-you-go phone. It’s off. Jen’s finger trembles as she presses the on button and watches it spring to life, its screen a neon green. No passcode. It’s an old-style flip phone, not a smartphone. It was clearly never meant to be discovered. She looks at the contacts. There are three: Joseph Jones, Ezra Michaels, and somebody called Nicola Williams.
She goes to the text messages, listening out for Todd and Kelly.
Times for meetings with Joseph and Ezra. 11 p.m. here, 9 a.m. there.
But, with Nicola, it’s different:
Burner phone 15/10: Nice to chat. See you on 16th?
Nicola W 15/10: I can be there.
Burner phone 15/10: Happy to help tomorrow?
Nicola W 15/10: Happy to help.
Burner phone 17/10: Call me.
Nicola W 17/10: PS. It’s in place but see you tonight.
Nicola W 17/10: Nice to meet. Happy to do it, but you need to work for it. Given what’s happened.
Burner phone 17/10: Yep. Understood.
Nicola W 17/10: Get back in there.
Burner phone 17/10: Baby or no baby.
Nicola W 18/10: All in place. When we have enough, we can move in.
Jen stares at them. A goldmine. Actual, date-stamped messages arranging something. Jen must be able to work out what. She must be able to follow her son on these days, to insert herself into proceedings.
She turns the rest of the items over, looking for more, but there’s nothing.
She sits back on Todd’s desk chair. Catastrophes crowd into Jen’s mind. Dead policemen. Dead kids. Kidnaps. Ransoms. Is he some sort of foot soldier, a minion sent to undertake a gang’s bidding?
She stands on the chair and puts the bundle back, exactly where it was, then sits in her son’s ransacked bedroom. Her knees tremble. She watches them, shivering just slightly, thinking that it’s all her fault. It must be.
Nicola Williams. Why is that name familiar to her?
She looks up Joseph, Clio, Ezra and Nicola on Facebook. All are there except Nicola, and all three are friends with the other. Joseph’s profile is new, but he looks like a perfectly ordinary man. An interest in horse-racing and opinions on Brexit. Ezra’s is more established, his profile pictures dating back ten years, but it’s otherwise locked.
