Danger by Association: The Riverhill Trilogy: Book 3 Read online

  Although he regretted getting so carried away, at least he now felt pretty certain that Maurice James wasn’t the man who had Daniel. Well, as certain as he could feel.

  Maurice James would have owned up to anything to save his own skin. Unless, of course, he was even more devious than John had given him credit for.

  Chapter 16

  Wednesday 19th June 1996

  It was three days since Daniel had gone missing. Rita and Yansis had discussed his disappearance indefatigably, running through various possible scenarios. These ranged from Daniel returning home relatively unscathed to the unthinkable. And even though some scenarios were torturous, Rita couldn’t help but visit them in her mind.

  They were both having difficulty sleeping, and were downing large amounts of alcohol in the evenings to numb the pain. Meanwhile, Julie continued to offer endless cups of tea and coffee, and wholesome meals, while expressing concern about their welfare. They both bore the signs of stress, their faces pale and etched with worry lines; the dark circles evident under their eyes.

  Rita was also still having flashbacks of her sister’s traumatic death, and the frightening sight of Leroy’s tormenting face. Anxiety over Daniel was making the flashbacks more frequent. Despite this, she was trying to put them out of her mind and stay positive. She kept telling herself that she couldn’t let her outlook be affected by what had happened to Jenny. It was taking all of Rita’s tremendous strength of character to pull her through.

  Currently, Rita was going through one of her pacing sessions, running her hands frantically through her hair as she voiced her worries to Yansis. Even he was no longer composed and, as they thrashed through the details, they fed each other’s anxieties.

  “I’ll ring that DI again,” said Rita. “Maybe he’ll be able to tell us something by now.”

  “It is worth a try,” said Yansis. “But perhaps he would have contacted us if there was anything to tell.”

  “What, like he did yesterday when they had that paedo in for questioning?”

  Without waiting for a response, she called up his number, which she had entered into her phone’s memory.

  “Can I speak to DI Collins please?”

  “I’m afraid he’s busy at the moment. Can I take a message or get him to call you back?” said the woman on the other end of the phone.

  “No, I need to speak to him now. It’s important.”

  “I’m afraid he …”

  Rita cut in, “Will you tell him it’s Mrs Christos, please? The mother of Daniel Christos. And I need to speak to him.”

  On hearing her name, the person on the phone became more cooperative, “I’ll go and see if I can disturb him.”

  When Rita heard DI Collins answer the phone, she realised that she had got his hopes up. He must have assumed that she was calling with news for him rather than the opposite.

  Rita thought she detected a weary sigh as he responded to her enquiry. “Mrs Christos, I’m sorry but we don’t have any news yet. As I’ve told you previously, we’re doing everything we can, and we’ll be in touch as soon as we have anything to report.”

  “What about the paedophile? Are you still holding him?”

  “No, we are no longer holding Maurice James.”

  She noticed how he emphasised the paedophile’s name before he continued.

  “There was insufficient evidence with which to charge him although I can assure you that we have carried out thorough checks.”

  “Right, will you let us know as soon as you know anything then, anything at all?”

  “Certainly, and if you think of something that might help, Mrs Christos, please give us a call. No matter how insignificant it may seem, it might just be the final piece of the jigsaw.”

  “Sure,” muttered Rita.

  “I just want to reassure you, Mrs Christos, that we are doing all we can to find your son. My officers are working flat out, and there’s nothing I’d like more than to return Daniel safely to you.”

  Rita finished the call. Yet again, she could feel her emotions taking over. Ironically, despite her mistrust of the police, she believed him when he said he wanted to return Daniel safely. But for some reason that made her feel worse. Despite the DI’s assurances, Rita wasn’t stupid. She knew that the longer a child was missing, the less chance there was of finding him alive. And it was now three days.

  ***

  Wednesday 19th June 1996 - Daniel

  The days dragged for Daniel. Fear was his only companion. Since they arrived at the house he had spent all his time in the cellar. Its stark interior with cold, stone floors and earthy brick walls offered little in the way of comfort. He stayed on a battered old mattress for most of the time, clinging to a shabby blanket.

  The man had led Daniel into the cellar, dragging him by his arm. His fingers dug talon-like into the wounded flesh, and Daniel screeched with pain. Interpreting his cries as a sign of disobedience, the man shouted and cursed at him, then gripped his injured arm even tighter.

  It was enough to silence Daniel who was plunged, sobbing, into his austere dungeon. Panic assailed him at the plethora of terrors he was forced to confront. Isolation. A fear of spiders. The gloominess of the enclosed room, which cast startling shadows along the coarse walls and floor. And a painful wound, oozing blood through an unsecured dressing.

  The man, and sometimes the woman, visited a few times a day to deliver food, and change the pot that stood in a corner of the cellar. But the stench from the pot remained. Heavy and cloying, it hung about the room, adding to Daniel’s discomfort.

  When the dressing fell off completely, Daniel plucked up the courage to ask for another plaster, his voice trembling. The man looked at him scornfully, and laughed. Without examining the wound, he said, “Don’t be such a cry baby!” and walked away from the cellar, chuckling to himself.

  ***

  Friday 21st June 1996 - Afternoon

  Maurice read through the newspaper article once more. The media coverage on Daniel’s disappearance fascinated him: the endless speculations, professional opinions and background information. He couldn’t get enough of it.

  He must curb his excitement for a while though as it would soon be time to attend his appointment with his probation officer. Maurice wasn’t looking forward to it. It wasn’t so much the appointment itself but the trip there. Having to step outside the house. He dreaded having to go anywhere.

  Since his attack on Wednesday evening he had been terrorised. He wished his attacker hadn’t said anything to his neighbour. Now, not only would the neighbours have nothing to do with him, but he was subjected to malicious and cruel taunts whenever he left the house.

  Even inside his home he didn’t feel safe. The previous night, once it became dark, he could hear stones and bricks being hurled at the doors and windows. Youths shouted abuse through the letter box. There were also other sounds which he couldn’t always identify. He could only guess that they represented some form of wanton vandalism to his property.

  Today he hadn’t yet ventured outdoors, deciding to wait until leaving for his appointment. He would have preferred to go in the morning when fewer people were up and about, but he’d been given an afternoon appointment. So he didn’t have a choice in the matter.

  As he left his house, he scanned the street to make sure nobody was around. Unfortunately, one of his neighbours over the road, a young mother of three children, spotted him. He took a cursory glance at his home, which was noted by the neighbour who shouted, “Yes, that’s what you are. We don’t want the likes of you round here, so bugger off!”

  He didn’t react. He’d found through previous experience that it was best to ignore the taunts and sneers. If he responded it would only make matters worse. It was difficult to ignore the graffiti scrawled across his house though, and he was horrified when he caught sight of it.

  The misspelt words ‘beest’ and ‘peedo’ were spray-painted on the wall, with each word covering a width of around two metres. The poor spellings wo
uld have been laughable if they hadn’t been so threatening.

  His first priority now was to get out of the area as quick as he could. Once he had attended his appointment he could think about how he would deal with the graffiti issue. It wasn’t a prospect he relished. A mental image flitted through his mind. Him spending several hours trying to remove the graffiti while people lined up to ridicule him and hurl abuse.

  Although he tried to put it out of his mind for now, it wasn’t easy. It must be dealt with as soon as possible. The longer it stayed on the wall, the more people would find out about him, and the more he would be harassed. But he knew that it would be a mammoth task to remove it. And what then? Would it be replaced by other graffiti when he got rid of it?

  He didn’t know what to do; he wasn’t even convinced the police would do much to help him. These troubled thoughts plagued him all the way to his appointment, and by the time he saw his probation officer, he was in a distressed state.

  ***

  Anne Fielding was a middle-aged woman with years of experience as a probation officer. She had seen a lot, which had hardened her to the job. Still, she carried out her duties efficiently but impassively.

  “You’ve got to get me out of there!” demanded Maurice when he walked through the door.

  “Take a seat please, Maurice, and we can talk things through,” said Anne, without flinching despite the sight of his bruised and swollen face.

  He sat forward in his chair, eager to find a solution to his problems. He wiped his moist hands on his trousers then pulled back the hair that clung to his forehead. His face was covered in a thin sheen of sweat, a result of his haste to get there on time and anxiety about the state of his outside walls.

  “Right, do you want to tell me what the problem is?” asked Anne.

  Maurice explained what he had been going through, starting with his attack and then outlining his subsequent troubles.

  His probation officer responded with a question, “Did you not report the attack?”

  “Yeah, but it was a waste of time. Police aren’t interested in the likes of me. They think I deserve all I get; everyone thinks that.”

  “I don’t really think that’s the case, Maurice. All reported crimes are taken seriously.”

  “But what am I going to do now? How will I get rid of the graffiti, and what if they do it again? You’ll have to get me rehoused or something. It’s hell! They’re at me all the time.”

  “Maurice, we were lucky to find you that accommodation under the circumstances.” She then sighed on noticing the woeful expression on his face. “Leave it with me. I can’t promise anything. Some ex-offenders haven’t been allocated houses at all; they’re still in hostels. You’re one of the lucky ones.”

  “I’ll take a hostel then, anything.”

  “It isn’t that easy. Look, I’ll see what I can do but, like I say, I can’t promise anything.” She made some notes on a piece of paper then looked up at Maurice. “Right, now then, there are some other matters we need to discuss.”

  Chapter 17

  Friday 21st June 1996

  It was another visit from DI Collins and DS Fletcher.

  “You’d better sit down,” said Rita when Julie led the two police officers into the lounge and then left them all to talk in private.

  “I’m sorry, but we don’t have any good news,” said DI Collins when he arrived, to quash the air of expectation that hung around them.

  Rita’s shoulders visibly slumped in response to his comment, and she could see the disappointment on Yansis’s face.

  “We’ve had a report,” he continued, “… in relation to Mr Maurice James. Somebody attacked him at his home on Wednesday, and we wondered if you might have any information about the attack.”

  Rita and Yansis both gave a swift denial.

  “Do you know anybody who might have attacked Mr James?”

  “I can think of a lot of people who would want to, but we don’t know anything about it,” said Rita.

  “Are you sure? Only, from the attacker’s conversation with Mr James it appears that his attacker had a personal interest in discovering the whereabouts of your son.”

  Again, Rita and Yansis both said, “No”.

  “Very well. I’m going to read out a description of his attacker. Perhaps you can tell me if you know of anyone who might fit this description?” DI Collins continued.

  Rita didn’t take in most of what he was telling her. Her mind was too preoccupied. She was still recovering from the disappointment of finding out that the police had nothing good to report, and the shock revelation of the attack on the paedophile. Therefore, only a few words registered with her: ‘tall’, ‘well-built’ and ‘goatee’. But she didn’t know anything about the attack on Maurice James, nor did she feel she owed him anything, so she responded in the negative.

  After several more questions, mainly going over the same ground, the police officers left. Again they promised to get in touch if any new information came to light.

  Yansis had just returned from showing them to the front door when Rita’s mobile rang. The tinny ring tone made her jump, her nerves were so frayed. To her surprise, it was Raeni.

  “I need to see you,” she said, without preamble.

  Rita was astonished. Although she had left her mobile number with Raeni, she didn’t really expect her to ring, not after the reception she received at her home. However, there was a hint at conciliation in her tone, and Rita agreed to call round right away.

  When they arrived at Raeni’s, Rita could sense that the atmosphere was different from the previous occasion. There was a total turnaround in Raeni’s attitude. This time, it seemed to Rita that Raeni was the one who was uncomfortable. She fussed around them, offering drinks and plumping up cushions, as though she was building up to something.

  “I might have some information about Daniel,” she began, “… but I can’t have you running to the police with it.”

  Rita could feel a shred of hope burgeoning inside her but she tried to contain it. “That’s asking a lot,” she said. “You know he’s asthmatic and needs his inhalers. If you know anything, we need to get help to him as soon as possible.”

  “Daniel has injuries as well,” added Yansis.

  “Listen to what I’m telling you,” said Raeni, her voice rising in agitation. “If you don’t involve the police you might get to Daniel more quickly.”

  Rita and Yansis looked confused. Rita was about to speak when Raeni continued. “There’s a reason I don’t want the police involved … it’s my son, Jamal.” She whispered the last word as though ashamed to acknowledge it.

  “I think he’s got Daniel, but if you go to the police they’ll lock Jamal away for a long time. I don’t want to lose another son. I already lost my Leroy, and I’ll lose my grandson too when you take him back to Greece. I just want them both home safe.”

  “W-what makes you think it’s him?” asked Rita.

  “He was angry, very angry when I told him you were home and nobody bothered telling me. He said you needed teaching a lesson, and Daniel went missing not long after.”

  “When was this?” asked Rita.

  Raeni lowered her voice again as she reluctantly replied, “I haven’t seen Jamal since Sunday.”

  “Do the police know Jamal’s missing?”

  “What do you think? I told you, I can’t afford to get them involved. They been round here again asking questions, but I told them nothing. As far as the police are concerned, Jamal’s still at home. I’d go and find him myself but I’m not so well, and I’m in no fit state to be chasing round after youngsters.”

  Rita focused briefly on Raeni’s wheezing before responding. “Hang on a minute! You’re telling us that you haven’t seen your son since the day Daniel went missing, and yet you’ve kept it all to yourself. Why are you only just telling us now?”

  “I didn’t know what to do for the best.”

  “But we were here on Monday,” said Yansis.

&nbs
p; “Yes,” Rita continued. “You must have had an idea then, and you didn’t bother mentioning it. In fact, you were bloody shirty with us!”

  “No, I didn’t have any idea until recently. You don’t understand. Jamal often stays out overnight, a couple of days sometimes.”

  Rita flashed her a look of contempt.

  “He’s twenty-two,” said Raeni as though that somehow explained things.

  “Have you any idea what we’ve been going through?” asked Rita, incredulous. “We’ve been out of our fuckin’ minds with worry. We thought a bleedin’ paedophile had him, for Christ’s sake!”

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t want any of this. It was only when Jamal had been away for a few days that I started getting suspicious, especially when I thought about what he said on Saturday.”

  Rita looked at her, and raised her chin while her face adopted a puzzled expression.

  “When we found out you had brought him back home. I told you, Jamal wasn’t very pleased.”

  “This isn’t his fuckin’ home! His home’s in Greece, and that’s where he should be. And I don’t give a shit what Jamal thinks; he’s got no rights over him!”

  “OK, suit yourselves. I shouldn’t have rung you; I thought I was doing the right thing,” said Raeni, rising from her chair and preparing to escort them from her house.

  Rita soon realised that this might be their only chance of finding Daniel, and she quickly backtracked. “Hang on a minute,” she said, putting her hand out in front of her. She took a deep breath before continuing. “OK Raeni, I’m not happy that you’ve waited five days to tell us, but we’re here now. The most important thing is that we get Daniel back … You said you had some information. What else can you tell us?”

  “I won’t tell you no more until you promise not to go to the police,” Raeni continued. “I know things … who Jamal hangs about with and the area where they go. I can tell you all I know once you make your promise, but if you go back on your word and the police come asking questions, I’ll deny everything, and you might never see your son again. Do you understand me?”