He fidgeted with the buttons on his polo shirt. What?
You didn t go to the police.
He shuffled an inch backwards, licked his lips, started to ease the door shut. I didn t. I said I wouldn t and I didn t He looked down to where my foot was jammed in the door, stopping it going any further. Honestly: we didn t say anything.
I took out my warrant card and held it up for him. Why?
His mouth fell open, and then he sniffed. I m very busy, so if you ll excuse me
A woman s voice came from the hall behind him. Ron? Is it Mrs Mahajan? I ve got her casserole dish.
Ron glanced back into the house. I ll take care of it, you go back to the kitchen.
Ron?
I said I d take care of it! He squared his shoulders, still peering around the door. You ve got no right coming round here, harassing us. Nothing happened, I ve got nothing to say, now go away.
The bastard got your daughter, didn t he: the Birthday Boy?
His jaw clenched. Nothing happened, now please
I know how you feel.
He slammed a fist into his own chest. You know nothing about how I feel.
He took my daughter.
Ron? What s going on?
I dug back into my wallet and came out with a photo Katie dressed in funeral black with a huge smile on her face. Heading off to see Green Day at the Aberdeen Exhibition and Conference Centre. Her first big gig. She went missing Friday night. We got the card on Saturday.
He blushed, then lowered his head. Stared at his shoes. I m sorry, but I don t know what you re talking about. Now you have to go.
I reached in, took a handful of his shirt, and pulled, banging his forehead off the door. Pin back your lugs, you little shite: he s got my daughter, her birthday s tomorrow, and I will tear your fucking head off if I think it s going to help me find her. Are we crystal clear on that?
Ron?
They made me promise
We sat in the lounge while Ellie Chadwick poured tea from a red teapot. She was a slight woman in a pair of bright green jeans and a pink fluffy jumper. Her hair was tucked behind her ears, the fringe spirit-level straight; wearing enough makeup to get a job on the counter at Debenhams. Couldn t have been a day over thirty.
Ron sat on the other side of the coffee table, scowling at a slice of Battenberg. We promised.
She put down the teapot and picked up the photo of Katie. You promised, Ronald Chadwick, not me. Ellie traced Katie s hair with a finger. Your daughter s pretty.
She s a pain in the arse but she s mine.
Our Brenda was the same. Always getting into trouble. Ellie turned, opened a drawer in the TV unit and pulled out a small photo album. Flipped to a page near the end, then placed it on the table in front of me. A young girl with glasses, and hair like her mum s, grinned up at me from a funfair somewhere the carousel horses out of focus behind her. She had one arm around a thin boy with floppy blond hair and a big gap between his front teeth.
I pointed at the picture. This the boyfriend?
Dawson Whitaker. He lives over in Newbridge it s probably the poshest bit of Bath, you should see the houses To start with we thought she d done really well for herself, his family s loaded, but
Ellie, that s enough! Ron banged his hand on the table, making the crockery rattle.
Oh shut it, Ron. Christ You re just like my mother.
You got any idea what that bastard ll do to us if he hears we ve been talking to the cops?
I don t care, Ron, OK? I m sick of it: I m sick of being scared all the time. I m sick of hiding Brenda s pictures and pretending she doesn t exist. She was our daughter. Ellie took the album back, then slipped the funfair photo out from behind the clear plastic sheeting and handed it to me. She disappeared four days before her birthday. Then that card arrived, and it was exactly like the ones in the papers
Ron scowled. Ellie, I m warning you
She took a deep breath. That s what he does, isn t it? He tortures them, and he kills them, then he sends you these sick birthday cards.
Have you still got it?
Ron snorted. Have we still got it?
Ellie shook her head. Dawson s dad took the card when he came over. The only time we ve ever met him. He said if we told anyone about what happened, if we got the police involved, someone would burn our house down with us in it.
Ron picked the marzipan off his Battenberg. Don t forget the rape first, that s the best fucking bit.
He was only trying to scare us.
He did a bloody good job then, didn t he? He s a drug dealer, Ellie, he kills people all the time. It s what they do. Ron wadded his marzipan into a ragged ball. I don t want to be raped
The school was a fancy collection of sandstone buildings on the southern outskirts of Bath, with a coat of arms mounted above the gates and a lodge house. Windows like a cathedral, crenellations, and ten or twelve acres of sweeping parkland, all hidden behind an eight-foot-high wall. Very imposing. Very exclusive. And very expensive.
Dawson Whitaker s dad must have been shifting a hell of a lot of drugs.
