Close to Home (DI Adam Fawley #1)(2)

You get all sorts of emotions when a kid goes missing. Anger, panic, denial, guilt. I’ve seen them all, alone and in combination. But there’s a look on Barry Mason’s face I’ve not seen before. A look I can’t define. As for Sharon, her fists are clenched so rigid her knuckles are white.

I sit down. Gislingham doesn’t. I think he’s worried the furniture might not take his weight. He eases his shirt collar away from his neck, hoping no one notices.

‘Mrs Mason, Mr Mason,’ I begin. ‘I understand this must be a difficult time, but it’s vital we gather as much information as we can. I’m sure you know this already, but the first few hours really are crucial – the more we know, the more likely it’ll be that we find Daisy safe and well.’

Sharon Mason pulls at a loose thread on her cardigan. ‘I’m not sure what else we can tell you – we already spoke to that other officer – ’

‘I know, but perhaps you can just talk me through it again. You said Daisy was at school today as usual and after that she was here in the house until the party started – she didn’t go out to play?’

‘No. She was in her bedroom upstairs.’

‘And the party – can you tell me who came?’

Sharon glances at her husband, then at me. ‘People from the close. The children’s classmates. Their parents.’

Her kids’ friends then. Not hers. Or theirs.

‘So, what – forty people? Would that be fair?’

She frowns. ‘Not so many. I have a list.’

‘That would be very helpful – if you could give it to DC Gislingham.’

Gislingham looks up briefly from his notebook.

‘And you last saw Daisy when exactly?’

Barry Mason still hasn’t said anything. I’m not even sure if he heard me. I turn to him. He’s got a toy dog in his hands and keeps twisting it. It’s distress, I know, but it looks unnervingly like he’s wringing its neck.

‘Mr Mason?’

He blinks. ‘I dunno,’ he says dully. ‘Elevenish maybe? It was all a bit confused. Busy. You know, lots of people.’

‘But it was midnight when you realized she was missing.’

‘We decided it was time the kids went to bed. People were starting to leave. But we couldn’t find her. We looked everywhere. We called everyone we could think of. My little girl – my beautiful little girl – ’

He starts to cry. I still find that hard to handle, even now. When men weep.

I turn to Sharon. ‘Mrs Mason? What about you? When did you last see your daughter? Was it before or after the fireworks?’

Sharon shivers suddenly. ‘Before, I think.’

‘And the fireworks started when?’

‘Ten. As soon as it got dark. We didn’t want them going on too late. You can get in trouble. They can report you to the council.’

‘So you last saw Daisy before that. Was it in the garden or in the house?’

She hesitates, frowning. ‘In the garden. She was running about all night. Quite the belle of the ball.’

I wonder, in passing, how long it is since I’ve heard anyone use that phrase. ‘So Daisy was in good spirits – nothing worrying her, as far as you knew?’

‘No, nothing. She was having a lovely time. Laughing. Dancing to the music. What girls do.’

I glance at the brother, interested in his reaction. But there is none. He is sitting remarkably still. Considering.

‘When did you last see Daisy, Leo?’

He shrugs. He doesn’t know. ‘I was watching the fireworks.’

I smile at him. ‘Do you like fireworks?’

He nods, not quite meeting my eye.

‘You know what? So do I.’

He glances up and there’s a little flutter of connection, but then his head drops again and he starts pushing one foot across the rug, making circles in the shagpile. Sharon reaches out and taps him on the leg. He stops.

I turn to Barry again. ‘And the side gate to the garden was open, I believe.’

Barry Mason sits back, suddenly defensive. He sniffs loudly and wipes his hand across his nose. ‘Well, you can’t be up and down opening the door every five minutes, can you? It was easier to have people come in that way. Less mess in the house.’ He glances at his wife.

I nod. ‘Of course. I see the garden backs on to the canal. Do you have a gate on to the towpath?’

Barry Mason shakes his head. ‘Fat chance – council won’t let you. There’s no way he got in that way.’

‘He?’

He looks away again. ‘Whoever it was. The bastard who took her. The bastard who took my Daisy.’

I write ‘my’ on my notepad and put a question mark next to it. ‘But you didn’t actually see a man?’

He takes a deep breath that breaks into a sob, and he looks away, tears starting again. ‘No. I didn’t see anyone.’

I shuffle through my papers. ‘I have the photo of Daisy you gave Sergeant Davis. Can you tell me what she was wearing?’

There’s a pause.

‘It was fancy dress,’ says Sharon eventually. ‘For the children. We thought that would be nice. Daisy was dressed as her name.’

‘I’m sorry, I’m not with you – ’