Was she forgetting something? A simple explanation for the taxi? Was there something she had overlooked in the chaos of the past weeks? She regularly ordered taxis to take him places when she was tied up at work. Had she double-booked Tyler for another appointment somewhere else? With whom? Had she perhaps ordered this taxi weeks ago for that and forgotten all about it? Perhaps the taxi had picked up the wrong boy? That could be it, a mix-up at the school!
She felt a fleeting moment of relief.
Clutching at straws, she knew.
She tried to shut the images of Fernanda Revere in the wreckage of her car from her mind. Some of them were intertwined, horrifically, with Tyler’s face. She shivered and thought about getting into a hot shower, but she did not want to risk missing a call. She had to get home. Someone helpful down at the front desk was looking into flights to England for her. She had to get back today, somehow had to, had to. She looked at her watch but could hardly read the dial. Her eyes felt as if they weren’t working properly. Everything she looked at seemed out of focus.
She had to think straight. Had to think clearly. But the only thing that came to her mind was the image of Tyler getting into a taxi.
Driven by a monster.
She walked over to the window and looked out again. It had been a blue sky a few minutes ago. Now it was grey. The landscape was all washed out. She watched a man on a dumper truck. Has your son been kidnapped? She saw a woman get out of a small car. Starting her day. Just a day like any other, for her. Has your son been kidnapped?
She went into the bathroom to brush her teeth, but her hands were shaking so much the toothpaste fell into the sink each time she tried to squeeze some on to her brush. A coiled spring felt as if it was being wound tighter and tighter inside her. She filled the kettle, but then could not find the switch on the damned thing. All the time she kept her phone beside her, willing Tyler to ring. Desperately praying he would ring.
And suddenly it began ringing. The display said, blocked.
‘Yes-hi-hello,’ she blurted.
‘Carly? It’s DS Branson.’
‘Yes?’ she said, trying to mask her disappointment. But maybe he had news? Please, please have news.
‘I need to ask you some questions, Carly.’
Her heart sinking, she rushed on, ‘I was thinking – I don’t know – is it possible there was a mix-up at the school and the taxi was for another boy? Have they checked he’s not somewhere at the school. He likes science, history, stuff like that. He often just goes into the labs and works on his own. He can be a loner. Did they check? Did they?’
‘They’re searching the school now. The taxi was definitely there to collect your son, Tyler.’
‘Did he turn up at the dentist? Do you have any news at all?’
‘So far not, but we’ll find him, don’t worry. But I need your help.’
‘DON’T WORRY? YOU’RE TELLING ME NOT TO WORRY?’ she shouted.
‘We’re doing everything we possibly can, Carly.’
‘I’m going to get the first flight home. Maybe I can get a daytime one and be home this evening.’
‘I think you should get back as fast as you can. Let me know your flight details when you can and we’ll meet you at the airport. We’ve heard about Mrs Revere.’
‘This is just a nightmare,’ she said. ‘Please help me. Please find my son. Oh, God, please help me.’
‘One thing that could be significant. Can you tell me who might have known about Tyler’s dental appointment?’
‘Who? Only – only his school – and my friends, Sarah and Justin Ellis. He – Justin – was going to take him. I – I can’t think of anyone else.’
‘Our High-Tech Unit’s done some searches. Tyler’s on a number of social networking sites, which I presume you know,’ Branson said.
‘Well – some.’
‘Did he Tweet it? He had put that he was going to the dentist up on Facebook, making a joke of it. Did he talk to you about any of the responses he had?’
‘No,’ she said. ‘These past two weeks since my accident he’s been in a really strange mood. I – I-’ She was fighting off tears. ‘Tyler’s a – he’s a very special child. He’s incredibly resourceful. He wouldn’t get into a car with a stranger. You may wonder how I know that for sure, but I do, I can promise you. He’s streetwise. Have you checked he didn’t go home?’
‘We’re keeping a round-the-clock watch on your home. There doesn’t appear to be anyone in. But he definitely went off from his school in a taxi.’
‘Please find him,’ she said. ‘Please find him.’
‘We are going to find him, I promise you. The whole nation’s looking for him.’
Tears were stinging her eyes and everything was a blur. The detective’s kind voice was making her weepy.
‘The Revere family,’ she sobbed. ‘They can do anything they want to me. I don’t care. Tell them that. Tell them they can kill me. Tell them to give me my son back and then kill me.’
He promised to call her back the moment he had any news. As she hung up, she crossed back over to the window and stared out at the drab landscape. Christ, the world was a big place. How could you find someone? Where did you start looking? Way down below her on the ground she watched a man walking along, phone to his ear. And suddenly she had a thought.
Wiping away tears, she stared down at the screen of her iPhone, fingered through the apps, sliding them across, until she reached the one she was looking for. Then she tapped it hard.
Moments later she felt a sudden flicker of hope. She stared at it harder, brought it closer to her face.
‘Oh yes! Oh, you good boy, Tyler! Oh, you clever boy!’
89
Grace came out of the press conference at 12.50 p.m., pleased with the solid performance ACC Rigg had delivered, and very relieved. He found all press conferences to be minefields. One wrong answer and you could be made to look a total idiot. Rigg had been sensible, keeping it tight and focused, and brief.
He was tailed by Kevin Spinella, as ever wanting one more question answered. But the Detective Superintendent was in no mood to talk to him. As he reached the security door at the start of the corridor, he turned to face the reporter.
‘I don’t have anything to add. If you want more information you need to speak to ACC Rigg, who is now responsible for press liaison on Operation Violin.’
‘I know you’re still angry with me over writing about the reward,’ Spinella said. ‘But you seem to forget sometimes, Detective Superintendent, that you and I both have a job to do and it’s not the same job. You solve crimes, I have to help sell newspapers. You need to understand that.’
Grace stared at him incredulously. A child’s life was at stake, he was right in the middle of the fast-time stage of one of the most serious critical incidents of his career, and this young reporter had decided now was the moment to start lecturing him about the newspaper business.
‘What part of that do you think I don’t understand, Kevin?’ Grace said, turning back to the door and holding up his security card to the pad.
‘You have to realize that I’m not your puppet. I want to help you, but my first loyalty will always be to my editor.’
‘Why don’t you save your breath right now, hurry back to your office and file a story that might help save Tyler Chase’s life?’
‘Coz I don’t need to. I can use this,’ Spinella said. Then he fished out his BlackBerry and held it up, with a smug grin.
Grace slammed the door behind him. He was about to call the Gold Commander for an update, when his phone rang. It was Glenn Branson.
‘You out of the conference, boss?’
‘Yes.’
‘We’re cooking with gas! We have a development with Tyler.’
‘Where are you?’
‘MIR-1.’