bag of sweets, then we stood outside and ate them.’
‘So what happened when you finished your sweets?’
‘Daniel wanted to go back and see the dog again, but it was gone.’
‘Had it run off?’
‘Couldn’t have. It was tied to the white van.’
‘What white van?’
Sammy looked at her as if she was being stupid. ‘The one the dog was tied to!’
As they reached the entrance to the newsagent’s, Sammy blurted out the one question he had been dying to ask. ‘Do you have a gun?’
Collins smiled. ‘Not today, Sammy. Come on, I’ll treat you to something.’
Sammy’s eyes lit up. He quickly selected his assortment of sweets and presented them on the counter. As the young Asian man counted them up, Collins tried to imagine the scene on Wednesday afternoon, the two boys on their summer holidays, deciding which treasures to spend their few pennies on. She remembered the feeling well from her own childhood.
‘Ninety pence,’ said the man behind the counter. Collins reached into her bag to retrieve her purse.
‘Do you own a dog?’ she asked.
The man shook his head. ‘Never much cared for pets. Don’t see the point.’
‘How about the other shopkeepers on the parade, any of them own dogs?’
The man shrugged. ‘The bloke that owns the dry-cleaners, Ray, he used to have a pit bull, but it had to be put down. I don’t think anyone else has one now.’
‘Does anyone on the parade own a white van?’
‘Well, I do, and Ray does, and the off-licence does. We all do.’
Collins and Sammy walked back outside, blinking in the bright sunshine after the dimness of the newsagent’s. Sammy was totally absorbed in the process of consuming his sweets. Stacey allowed him to finish before asking her next question.
‘What are Daniel’s mum and dad like?’
‘His mum’s all right; his dad gets angry a lot.’
‘What happens when his dad gets angry?’
‘Daniel would sometimes sleep over.’
‘Do you think he was scared of his dad?’
‘Yes.’
‘Was his dad there when he got home?’
‘Dunno. I went to my house, and he went down the alley to his.’
‘And that was the last time you saw him.’
Sammy’s bottom lip quivered as the loss of his best friend started to hit home. ‘Yes.’
She could see he was starting to become uncomfortable with her questions. ‘Come on, Sammy,’ she said, offering him her hand again. ‘Let’s go home.’
Mr and Mrs Hardy were waiting anxiously at the window; as soon as Collins and Sammy came into view, Mrs Hardywent to open the door. ‘You didn’t say you were taking him out of the garden,’ she said accusingly.
‘We just went to get some sweets, didn’t we, Sammy?’ Collins replied. ‘He’s been very helpful indeed.’
‘Stacey thinks I’ll make a good policeman, Mum,’ Sammy told his mother brightly.
‘Come on,’ she told her son, struggling not to seem cross. ‘Inside.’ She directed her conversation back to Collins. ‘Is there anything else?’ she asked rather coldly.
‘No,’ Collins replied. ‘Nothing else. I’ve got everything I need. Thank you very much, Mrs Hardy. If there’s anything else, I’ll be in touch.’
But the woman made no acknowledgement and just slammed the door behind Woods and Collins.
‘Christ, it’s not much.’
Woods was driving north, back towards Peckham, and Collins had just filled him in on what she had learned from Sammy.
She was preoccupied. Talking to Sammy, somehow, had been like talking to Daniel himself. The kidnapper could so easily have taken either boy. And Woods was right: the little boy had given them practically nothing. But when all you have is straws, she thought to herself, you have no choice but to clutch at them.
‘I mean,’ added Woods, ‘you’re looking for something suspicious but don’t know what. It’s bad enough looking for a needle in a haystack. You’re looking for a piece of hay in a haystack.’
Collins snapped out of the thoughts she had been losing
‘So what happened when you finished your sweets?’
‘Daniel wanted to go back and see the dog again, but it was gone.’
‘Had it run off?’
‘Couldn’t have. It was tied to the white van.’
‘What white van?’
Sammy looked at her as if she was being stupid. ‘The one the dog was tied to!’
As they reached the entrance to the newsagent’s, Sammy blurted out the one question he had been dying to ask. ‘Do you have a gun?’
Collins smiled. ‘Not today, Sammy. Come on, I’ll treat you to something.’
Sammy’s eyes lit up. He quickly selected his assortment of sweets and presented them on the counter. As the young Asian man counted them up, Collins tried to imagine the scene on Wednesday afternoon, the two boys on their summer holidays, deciding which treasures to spend their few pennies on. She remembered the feeling well from her own childhood.
‘Ninety pence,’ said the man behind the counter. Collins reached into her bag to retrieve her purse.
‘Do you own a dog?’ she asked.
The man shook his head. ‘Never much cared for pets. Don’t see the point.’
‘How about the other shopkeepers on the parade, any of them own dogs?’
The man shrugged. ‘The bloke that owns the dry-cleaners, Ray, he used to have a pit bull, but it had to be put down. I don’t think anyone else has one now.’
‘Does anyone on the parade own a white van?’
‘Well, I do, and Ray does, and the off-licence does. We all do.’
Collins and Sammy walked back outside, blinking in the bright sunshine after the dimness of the newsagent’s. Sammy was totally absorbed in the process of consuming his sweets. Stacey allowed him to finish before asking her next question.
‘What are Daniel’s mum and dad like?’
‘His mum’s all right; his dad gets angry a lot.’
‘What happens when his dad gets angry?’
‘Daniel would sometimes sleep over.’
‘Do you think he was scared of his dad?’
‘Yes.’
‘Was his dad there when he got home?’
‘Dunno. I went to my house, and he went down the alley to his.’
‘And that was the last time you saw him.’
Sammy’s bottom lip quivered as the loss of his best friend started to hit home. ‘Yes.’
She could see he was starting to become uncomfortable with her questions. ‘Come on, Sammy,’ she said, offering him her hand again. ‘Let’s go home.’
Mr and Mrs Hardy were waiting anxiously at the window; as soon as Collins and Sammy came into view, Mrs Hardywent to open the door. ‘You didn’t say you were taking him out of the garden,’ she said accusingly.
‘We just went to get some sweets, didn’t we, Sammy?’ Collins replied. ‘He’s been very helpful indeed.’
‘Stacey thinks I’ll make a good policeman, Mum,’ Sammy told his mother brightly.
‘Come on,’ she told her son, struggling not to seem cross. ‘Inside.’ She directed her conversation back to Collins. ‘Is there anything else?’ she asked rather coldly.
‘No,’ Collins replied. ‘Nothing else. I’ve got everything I need. Thank you very much, Mrs Hardy. If there’s anything else, I’ll be in touch.’
But the woman made no acknowledgement and just slammed the door behind Woods and Collins.
‘Christ, it’s not much.’
Woods was driving north, back towards Peckham, and Collins had just filled him in on what she had learned from Sammy.
She was preoccupied. Talking to Sammy, somehow, had been like talking to Daniel himself. The kidnapper could so easily have taken either boy. And Woods was right: the little boy had given them practically nothing. But when all you have is straws, she thought to herself, you have no choice but to clutch at them.
‘I mean,’ added Woods, ‘you’re looking for something suspicious but don’t know what. It’s bad enough looking for a needle in a haystack. You’re looking for a piece of hay in a haystack.’
Collins snapped out of the thoughts she had been losing
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