Read Online Cry of the Children by J.M. Gregson - Free Book Online Page B

long a minute seemed when there was no noise and no movement at eleven o’clock on Armistice Day. He dismissed that death-laden image furiously from his mind. ‘This is very important, Mr Boyd. When you stood watching and waiting for Lucy, you must have been acutely aware of other adults around you. Did you see any movement towards the spot where Lucy must have been when the ride stopped and she left her bus?’
    Matt shook his head unhappily. ‘I’ve been over that moment a dozen times. I’ve told myself that I must surely have seen something – someone – who had a hand in her removal. I can see the ride and its lights and the other children getting off it and running back to their parents quite clearly in my mind, as if it were a film loop being run over and over again past my eyes. I can even hear some of the things the other kids said to their adults, but I can’t see or hear any sign of Lucy, or any shadow of a movement towards where she must have been.’
    He waited for an agonizing moment as Hook completed his note on this. Then the DS looked up at him and said, ‘So how do you think you missed her, Matt? Do you think she lost her bearings and wandered off in the wrong direction, or do you think some person or persons unknown abducted her?’
    Matt noted the first use of his forename. The man seemed friendly, but was that merely a tactic to soften him up? ‘Someone took her, didn’t they?’
    â€˜It certainly looks like it. But if she wandered off and fell into the wrong hands, it could have been later in the evening rather than by that roundabout.’
    Matt thought about it. It was a possibility he hadn’t considered. He tried desperately to work out how his answer might affect his own position, but he couldn’t think it through. He shook his head vigorously, as though trying to rid his face of a troublesome fly. ‘No. I think someone grabbed her as she came off the ride. Probably someone who came out of the wood. It comes right up to the edge of the common at that point. The trees can’t be more than a few yards from that ride and the point where Lucy climbed off it.’
    Lambert nodded. ‘Eleven yards.’ He’d paced it out less than an hour ago when he’d talked to the SOCO team. ‘Mr Boyd, your evidence is vital. At this moment, you are the last person known to have seen Lucy Gibson.’ He bit his lip. Familiarity with dozens of homicides had almost led him to say ‘the last person known to have seen Lucy Gibson alive’. He must not allow the increasing foreboding that was weighing upon him to enter his speech. ‘You will be asked to sign a statement in due course, Mr Boyd. Is there anything you feel you have missed out in your account of what happened last night?’
    Boyd’s forehead twisted into a frown above the broad features. ‘There’s one thing. When we were on our way from the big rides to the edge of the fair where the smaller ones were, we passed a shooting gallery. I stopped and had a go to try to win a prize for Lucy or her mum. She didn’t leave me, even when I was shooting. I can remember her clinging on to the leg of my trousers when I had both hands on the rifle. But my attention was obviously on the target I was shooting at, for perhaps two minutes. I suppose someone might have been watching us, sizing up his chances of snatching Lucy.’
    â€˜Indeed someone might. I take it this would be only about ten minutes before she vanished?’
    â€˜About that, yes. We went straight from the shooting gallery to the small ride.’
    â€˜But you weren’t aware of anyone skulking around. He or she might have been some distance away, of course – we mustn’t rule out women, at this stage.’
    â€˜No, I wasn’t. It’s still my belief that whoever snatched her came out of the woods beside the common. But I don’t think I’d have spotted