Cold Justice (Willis/Carter #4)(13)

‘I think we should take Russell,’ Lauren said, and Willis went to get him.

Jeanie handed her a small backpack like the one Willis used when she was running. ‘It’s got the poo bags and some treats in it. I took him out yesterday – it’s best to keep him on a lead because he tries to run away.’ Jeanie put Russell on the lead and handed him to Ebony. She followed Lauren outside.

‘Do you mind if we walk towards the park?’ Lauren asked. ‘I feel somehow nearer to Samuel there.’

‘We can walk around the outside,’ answered Willis, as she noted the search parties had sectioned off the far and central sections of the park.

Lauren pulled on her mittens and hat and buttoned her sheepskin jacket up to the top. ‘I’ll take him,’ she said, referring to Russell, and Willis happily relinquished the lead and the backpack. They walked in silence for a few minutes and Willis watched the officers searching further up the hill and to the left of them. She looked at the buildings that lined the park. Some were residential and she could see people inside, looking out wondering whether Samuel would be found.

Lauren walked slowly to allow Russell time to explore.

‘If this is an opportunist thing then my son will be long gone from here, won’t he?’

‘It’s too early for us to draw conclusions.’

‘Really? I always thought the first few hours were crucial.’

‘Lauren, I know it feels like you’re in a nightmare at the moment but please take a few good breaths and try and stay calm.’

Lauren stopped walking and looked at Willis. At the same time a photographer came within a few feet of them and started taking photos. Willis stepped in front of him and an officer appeared to escort him away. ‘Do you think he’s dead?’

Willis was wishing that Carter hadn’t sent her out with Lauren. She knew her job was to allow her to talk in the hope that she might reveal some important facts, but it wasn’t her forte.

‘We are doing everything possible to find Samuel. Tell me about yesterday. There might be some tiny, minute piece of information that starts a chain reaction.’

‘How can this get Samuel back? Why don’t you just get in your car and drive around the streets? Someone might have left him somewhere. That happens, doesn’t it? People abandon the child?’ She looked at Willis, pleading with her eyes, ‘When they’re finished?’

‘We have patrol cars out looking, Lauren. We have officers swarming these streets to find him. We’ve put out a public appeal. The best thing you can do for me is talk.’

Lauren sighed, frustrated. ‘What do you want to know? My husband went for a walk with our son and he came home with an empty buggy. I don’t know how the hell it happened.’ She turned away as she fought back the tears.

‘Tell me about the funeral.’

She took a deep breath. ‘Where do you want me to start?’

‘How was Toby in the morning?’

‘Toby was the same as ever: quiet, introspective, didn’t want to talk about it. We left home at ten. We arrived early. Toby stayed in the car. I got out and walked around with Samuel, looking at the graves. It all seemed so farcical and yet so sad. I’d never even met Jeremy Forbes-Wright, for Christ’s sake. Never seen him, so far as I knew. He’d never asked to meet me or to see his own grandson.’ Her voice rose in the damp dead of the park. She took a deep breath and shook her head, calming herself. ‘A police cordon had been set up around the small chapel.’ They walked and Lauren talked. ‘We’d been told there would be press, there would be politicians wanting to pay their last respects. It seemed like it was such a lot of fuss to me, but we didn’t really have a choice. He left exact instructions – we just had to follow them – it felt weird.’ They walked on around the park.

‘Six pallbearers carried the coffin in. Toby didn’t want to do it.

‘The coffin came out with flowers on it but nothing personal. I guess that was no surprise. I don’t know whether you know or not but for most of Toby’s life he didn’t see his father.’ Lauren sighed heavily. They had been walking for half an hour now. Willis wiped her frozen nose with a paper tissue from her pocket.

‘How was Toby coping?’ she asked.

‘I looked across at him – he was chewing the inside of his cheek as they carried the coffin inside. Does that when he’s stressed. I knew what was worrying him most – the speech. For Toby, that’s far more difficult than you can imagine. He is so shy, so cripplingly shy.’ She paused as she collected her thoughts. ‘I tried to help him. I knew it was the worst day of his life – the final humiliation by his father. Toby hates to attend any gatherings of more than two other people. He sneaks away early if we ever have a dinner party. But yesterday he had to read a poem and talk about a father he hated; and who, for some reason, hated him. Jeremy Forbes-Wright was a lot of things to a lot of people – but to Toby he was a controlling bully. Toby didn’t find much to say that was good about his father. The Home Secretary got up and told a few funny stories about Jeremy. Then someone read a psalm.’

‘How did Toby cope with it all?’

‘After the service, Toby didn’t answer anyone, whatever they said. He just stuck out his hand and let people shake it. I said, “Thanks for coming,” but it felt stupid. I had no idea who they were, except for the guy who’d written me about the house in Cornwall – Stokes, who introduced himself to me. Toby seemed to be in meltdown. We’d opted for a private burial so luckily we could get away from the crowd. The coffin was put back inside the hearse and driven further into the cemetery. The vicar said a few words. Toby said nothing as we stood around the grave and then Samuel started to really whinge.’