The Puppet Maker: DI Jack Brady 5 Page 18

  ‘Nothing.’

  Brady was disappointed, but not surprised. ‘Of the eight victims we know of, were any reported missing?’

  ‘None of them, sir. Not one. I’ve checked their police records and none of them had an actual contact address. It seems they lived and worked on the streets. I have tried to go back over twenty years, considering that one of the victim’s remains could date that far back, comparing reported missing young women who fit the type taken by perpetrator with the face masks found on the victims. But . . .’

  ‘But what?’

  ‘Thousands of young people go missing every year. Roughly two hundred and fifty thousand people go missing every year and one hundred thousand are children under sixteen years old. A high proportion are reported to have run away from care. A high percentage are found within forty-eight hours but that still leaves a significant number unaccounted. But it is the people in the fifteen to seventeen age group who go missing most often.’

  Brady was staggered. He knew from Wolfe’s findings that the victims’ skeletal remains were in keeping with young women between the ages of late teens to early twenties. The question was, how old were they when they were abducted? He couldn’t believe that twelve young women, teenagers even, could just disappear and no one would notice. Or maybe they did, but they just didn’t care. Plenty more to fill their spot on the street corner.

  ‘The eight you’ve identified, were they arrested locally?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes.’

  Brady realised that he could have processed any number of these arrested women. He would have released them back onto the streets. Homeless, with no place to go. They would have been easy targets. It didn’t bear thinking about. And then there was Emily Baker.

  ‘Emily—’ Brady began.

  Conrad cut him off. ‘I have to say, she doesn’t fit the suspect’s type.’

  ‘Physically she does,’ Brady replied with an unmistakable edge to his voice.

  ‘But she’s in full-time higher education and she has an address. The other victims were homeless and jobless. They weren’t integrated at all into society. The reason the suspect has selected them is because they are guaranteed to cause minimum, if any police attention.’

  Brady remained quiet. He knew exactly what Conrad was getting at.

  If no one knows you’re missing, how will they know to find you?

  To Brady, Emily Baker fitted right into that type. He wondered how long it would have been before someone reported her missing. She had no friends to speak of, no family. Her college peers might have noticed that she had disappeared but would not have thought anything about it. As her college tutor had remarked, she was a student who kept herself to herself. It could have been weeks before the college lecturers realised that she was missing lectures and seminars. And then, it could have been even longer before someone actually realised that there was a problem.

  Too little, too late.

  Brady felt plagued by the thought that whatever he did was not enough. Or that he had acted too late. Again, Annabel Edwards came to mind.

  ‘Trust me, Conrad. He has her.’

  Conrad’s awkward silence was enough.

  ‘For fuck’s sake! I know a lot of shit has happened and I’m being blamed for most of it by the media but I haven’t lost my fucking mind! Maybe my job – but not my mind. So when I tell you that he’s got her I expect you to take me seriously.’ Exhausted, Brady breathed out. He noticed someone walking down towards the college campus giving him a strange look. Realised then that his car window was down.

  ‘Yes, sir.’ The reply, terse.

  Brady didn’t give a fuck. Not anymore.

  ‘What do you intend to do?’ asked Conrad.

  ‘Find her. Before it’s too bloody late!’

  ‘What do you want me to do?’

  ‘Get Daniels and Kenny to check out the CCTV footage from Newcastle College leading down to Newcastle train station will you? She went somewhere after her tutorial on Friday afternoon. It’s our job to find out where.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘What about the CCTV footage around St George’s? Have Daniels and Kenny found anything?’

  ‘Nothing yet.’

  ‘Have they checked to see whether the Autumn Residential Care Home behind the woods has any security cameras covering the car park and grounds? What if he parked in the car park there? No one would notice. Staff would think that the car belonged to a visiting relative.’

  Brady knew that the police dogs had tracked Hannah Stewart’s scent across the field and down through the woods to a small layby where it was believed the suspect had parked his car. The scent had ended there. Ainsworth’s team had examined the parking area and found nothing. But Brady was wondering if they were looking in the wrong place. For all they knew, Hannah Stewart could have wandered off from the suspect and his car down the track that led to the lay-by. He knew it was a long shot. But he was prepared to consider all possibilities.

  ‘I’ll get on to it,’ Conrad assured him, eager to go.

  Brady knew why. ‘What happened after the raid this morning? Have they got any new leads?’

  ‘All I know is that the team still believe he is in London.’

  Brady didn’t say what he wanted to. Instead, he kept quiet. But what was worrying him was all the time and energy Gates was expending searching for Macintosh and the abducted girl in the wrong place. The problem was, DCI Gates wasn’t crediting Macintosh for the highly intelligent psychopath that he was and always had been. Brady knew by the time he did, it would be too late.

  Too little, too late.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Sunday: 6:01 p.m.

  Brady was back at the station. Sandra Campbell, Emily Baker’s social worker, had called him earlier. She had said that both Hannah and Emily had resided with the same foster carer. Not at the same time. There was a two-year gap between each girl being placed there. Both had only stayed for a short time before being placed into different children’s homes; one in North Shields, the other in Wellfield. They had never met. But what did interest Brady was the fact that Joyce Seaman had a twenty-six-year-old son who had been eighteen at the time of Hannah’s placement. When Emily, who had been twelve at the time, had been placed in the foster home, he had still been living there.

  Brady grabbed a coffee and a sandwich from the basement cafeteria. His plans after he had eaten were to interview Ryan Seaman. He had had contact with both young women when they had been in foster care. Whether inappropriate or not, Brady could not say. At least, not yet. But it was enough for Brady to have him brought into the station for questioning.

  Ryan Seaman interested Brady. A lot. He now lived in a flat in Whitley Bay and was employed as a full-time labourer for a local building firm. But what interested Brady were the charges that had been made against him four years back. He had been arrested and charged with rape. The victim had barely been above the age of consent. Not that there was consent when it came to rape. The sixteen-year-old in question had been placed in Joyce Seaman’s foster care. At the time, Ryan Seaman had still lived there. He had protested his innocence. And it had never gone to court. The teenager, for whatever reason, had dropped the charges.

  Brady didn’t know the reason why Hannah had run away repeatedly from Joyce Seaman’s house. Or why Emily refused to stay there after only one week. But he thought he was about to find out.

  ‘Look, I ain’t done nothing. I didn’t touch the fucking cow! Anyways, that was four years back. Stupid slapper that she was! Caused me no end of fucking bother!’

  Brady looked at Ryan Seaman. Resisted the urge to give him a smack to teach him some respect for women. But he knew he would be wasting his time. Scrotes like him would never change.

  ‘Ryan, do you remember Hannah Stewart?’

  Ryan Seaman shrugged. ‘Dunno. Should I?’

  ‘I need a straight answer. Yes or no,’ Brady stated.

  ‘Fuck do I know!’ Ryan answered. He turned to the appo
inted Duty Solicitor sat beside him. ‘I’ve got nothing to say.’

  Brady looked straight at the Duty Solicitor. He was new. But it was clear from his attitude that he didn’t give a damn. He was here simply for the extra cash.

  ‘My client has nothing else to say,’ he reiterated flatly.

  ‘Yeah. We heard,’ Brady answered. ‘Hannah Stewart,’ he continued. ‘She was twelve when she was placed in your mother’s foster care. That was eight years ago. Would have made you eighteen then. Why did she keep running away?’

  Ryan shrugged. ‘Fuck knows. No doubt shagging around. Most of them foster kids are a handful. Drinking, taking drugs and fucking whoever and whatever,’ he replied with a sneer.

  It took some willpower for Brady not to punch the smirk off his face. ‘Is that what happened with Janine Rogers? You’re saying she was sexually promiscuous?’

  He shrugged again. ‘If you mean was she a slapper? Then yeah.’

  ‘What was it about her? Did she remind you of Hannah Stewart and Emily Baker? Was that it? All three were petite with long, dark hair. All a type. But Janine fought back, didn’t she? Difference was, she wasn’t twelve years old like Hannah and Emily. She was sixteen. She had a bit more about her than two pre-pubescent girls. Couldn’t be so easily silenced.’

  ‘Fuck you!’

  ‘What about Emily Baker? She managed to stay for a week before she asked to be removed. Why?’ Brady asked. ‘Was it because you liked to go into her bedroom and touch her? Just like you did with Janine?’

  ‘Fuck you!’

  ‘Can I ask exactly where you are going with this line of questioning?’ interrupted the Duty Solicitor.

  ‘Of course,’ Brady answered, his eyes still fixed firmly on the suspect. He watched as Ryan scratched at a scab on his upper right arm. ‘Hannah Stewart was found last night. She had been savagely attacked and left for dead. And Emily Baker, also known to Ryan, is now missing.’ Brady shoved the student photograph of Emily towards him. He watched as Ryan glanced down. Then away.

  ‘Don’t recognise her.’

  ‘Are you sure?’ Brady asked.

  He scratched at his arm again, making it bleed. ‘Nah. Told you me mam has had countless strays through her door.’

  ‘But Emily remembered you.’

  Ryan slouched back against the chair. ‘That’s shite!’

  Brady shook his head. ‘Her social worker told me that you were the reason that she would rather be in a residential children’s home. What did you do to her to make her want to leave?’

  Ryan’s eyes darted back down to the photo of Emily Baker.

  Brady could see that he had hit a nerve. Not that her social worker had actually said anything of the sort, but he had a feeling that Ryan Seaman had played a big part in Emily Baker’s refusal to stay. ‘Must have been great. No one to stop you doing what you liked to these young girls. No one ever listened to them. Did they?’ He paused as he caught Ryan’s eye. ‘No. Why would they? Troubled kids from even shittier backgrounds than yours. No surprise your mam thought they were lying. Trying to cause trouble.’

  ‘My client has nothing to say,’ interjected his solicitor.

  Brady continued. ‘Where were you on Friday, Ryan?’

  ‘My client has already answered that question.’

  Irritated, Brady stared at the Duty Solicitor. Then turned to Ryan. ‘Yeah, we checked out your alibi. Work said you left shortly after three p.m.’

  Ryan slouched even further down in his seat as he stared at Brady.

  ‘The building site where you’re based is a five-minute walk from Newcastle College.’

  ‘So? Not against the law to leave work early,’ Ryan muttered.

  ‘Emily Baker was last seen leaving Newcastle College around the same time you left work. Had you been watching her? Waiting for the right moment to talk to her? Persuade her to go somewhere with you? Did you decide to finish off what you had started when she had been twelve? Is that what happened to Hannah? You found her and decided to sort her out.’

  ‘Really DI Brady, this is pure speculation. My client does not know these young women.’

  ‘He knows them. Got to know them very well. Didn’t you, Ryan?’ Brady questioned as he scrutinised him.

  ‘No comment,’ muttered Ryan.

  ‘So, this weekend? You went on a bender? Is that right?’

  Ryan stared at Brady. ‘No comment.’

  ‘Late Friday afternoon to Sunday morning?’

  He shrugged. ‘No comment.’

  Brady looked back down at the file in front of him. Opened it and checked the four names listed. He was waiting for confirmation of Ryan’s alibi. Granted, he did smell like he had spent the past thirty-six hours in a brewery. That had been his alibi. That he had gone on a stag night in town. Left work early to go home, shower and then headed out with the lads. It had been a two-night bender. The problem for Ryan was that his mates hadn’t materialised yet.

  Brady turned and caught Conrad’s eye. His deputy didn’t look that convinced that Ryan Seaman was responsible for the abduction and torture of Hannah or the disappearance of Emily. Brady was feeling the same. Then there were the other victims. Ryan Seaman was twenty-six. His age ruled him out. But what if he had an accomplice? Or he was copying someone?

  ‘Can I get a tab?’

  ‘You already know the answer.’

  ‘Fuck you! This is against my human rights. I’m a fucking addict with a forty-a-day habit!’

  Brady was starting to get tired of Ryan Seaman. Very tired.

  ‘When was the last time you saw your dad?’ Brady asked. He watched as the suspect shifted in his seat.

  ‘Dunno, like.’

  ‘Yesterday? A week back? Two years ago? When?’

  ‘He disappeared when I was little.’

  ‘Why?’

  Ryan shrugged. But Brady could feel the hatred emanating from him. Hatred at Brady for poking around in his life.

  ‘People don’t just disappear, Ryan. Not for twenty years.’

  ‘This is ridiculous. What’s the relevance of this?’ interrupted his solicitor.

  ‘It has every relevance,’ Brady answered. He turned back to the suspect. ‘You see, Ryan, someone has been abducting and murdering young women like Hannah Stewart and Emily Baker for what we believe could be as long as twenty years. You personally knew Hannah and Emily. Too personally, by all accounts. You were in the same location and at the same time that Emily Baker disappeared. You have already have a track record of sexually assaulting women—’

  ‘The charges were dropped, DI Brady,’ interrupted the Duty Solicitor.

  ‘Do you believe in coincidences, Ryan?’ Brady continued, ignoring his solicitor.

  Ryan didn’t reply. Instead he waited.

  ‘I reckon he’s been in touch. Hasn’t he?’

  Brady watched as Ryan shifted his weight again in his seat.

  ‘No comment.’

  ‘You see, we can’t find him, Ryan. He doesn’t exist. Or at least, hasn’t existed for twenty years. Why? What would make him disappear like that?’

  Ryan stared at Brady.

  ‘Where is he, Ryan?’

  Brady waited. Nothing. ‘You two have a lot in common, don’t you? Your father was arrested and charged for raping a barmaid who worked in his pub. Did two years for that.’

  Ryan shrugged. ‘Stupid bitch tried to blackmail him. Me mam told me all about it. When he refused to pay her she went to you lot. Made a false claim just like that fucking slapper Janine.’

  ‘But he did time for it, Ryan. Suggests there was concrete evidence against him.’

  ‘Yeah? Her word against his is what I heard.’

  Brady shook his head. ‘No. He didn’t just rape her. He beat her. Left her with a broken nose and two broken ribs.’

  Brady studied him. If Ryan was surprised by the revelation, he didn’t show it. Then again, given the suspect’s attitude to women, Brady imagined that he would have little or no empathy for his fath
er’s victim. It was clear from the look of cold hatred in his eyes that he did not care.

  ‘Your dad served two years inside. Then when he came out he stayed with you and your mam for two months before he disappeared. Why was that? What happened to make him go like that? Was it you? Your mam?’

  ‘No fucking comment!’ he retaliated.

  ‘I’ve got all night, Ryan. So, we can sit and wait this out as long as you want,’ Brady said folding his arms and sitting back.

  The stalemate was disturbed a minute later by a knock at the door.

  Brady turned and looked up as Harvey opened it. ‘Sir? A word?’

  ‘Can’t it wait?’

  ‘No,’ Harvey replied.

  ‘This better be worth it.’

  Brady stood, arms folded behind Daniels and Kenny. He was still in a foul mood over Ryan Seaman. He was really hoping that they might have had a positive lead. But his alibi had finally been verified. Harvey had been the one to break the news to Brady. Not that he had been too impressed at the time. It transpired that Ryan Seaman had been telling the truth and had spent the weekend drinking with his mates. Consequently, he had been released without charge. However, his father, Geoffrey Seaman was still an enigma. There had been no trace of him for the past twenty years. Whether something had happened to him, or he had just wanted to distance himself from his past, Brady couldn’t say. Nor it seemed, could his son or wife.

  ‘It is, sir. Wait . . .’ Daniels said pointing at the screen. ‘Here . . . here it is.’

  It was CCTV footage taken from the residential nursing home behind the bluebell woods.

  Brady looked. ‘No . . . I don’t see anything.’

  ‘Just here, sir. Look!’ Daniels ordered, pointing to the screen.

  Then Brady saw her. A young woman walking. Alone. ‘Are you sure it’s her?’