‘Don’t get excited. It’s not a lead, at least I don’t think so. Eighteen months ago, Mr and Mrs Fincher reported their daughter Lizzie missing. She was five at the time. According to Mr Fincher, his wife had taken the child to a hotel and was hiding her there. According to Mrs Fincher, he’d murdered Lizzie and disposed of her body.’
‘Murder,’ Debbie echoed. She was making notes.
‘Domestic,’ Ron folded his arms, ‘with knobs on.’ He was reading Marnie’s face; knew her tells. Like Noah, he’d not been in her team eighteen months ago.
Marnie nodded. ‘DS Carling gets the big clock. It was a domestic. Lizzie was alive and well. She’d been left with a friend of her mother’s. Doug Cole.’
‘At number 8?’ Debbie checked her notes.
‘At number 8. On the day we were looking for Lizzie, Mr Cole was travelling around the Underground with her. He said it was her favourite game and of course he had no reception on his phone to answer the calls we made during house-to-house.’
‘So it was the mum,’ Ron said, ‘winding Fincher up.’
Marnie shook her head. ‘She always denied that. She said Lizzie was friends with Cole and that she told him a fib about her mum wanting him to look after her for the day. Cole insisted it’d been agreed with Mrs Fincher.’
‘He was shagging the mother, right?’
‘Both of them denied that, Cole in the strongest terms. Mrs Fincher seemed to find the idea ridiculous. She described her friend Doug as “sexless and safe”.’
‘Meaning what?’ Ron looked sharp. ‘That he’s a perv?’
‘She didn’t elaborate, but there was no evidence that MrCole had abducted Lizzie. The little girl was happy in his company. There was certainly no evidence he’d harmed her.’
‘He could’ve been saving that for another time . . .’ Ron picked up a marker pen. ‘I’m putting him on the board.’
He wrote ‘Doug Cole’ on the whiteboard and underlined it.
Debbie said, ‘Did we charge the Finchers with wasting police time?’
‘No. The press got involved. It was considered tactically inappropriate to charge them.’
‘Tactically inappropriate,’ Ron echoed. ‘You mean Welland handed you the shitty end of the stick to keep the press quiet?’
Marnie shut him up with a look. ‘These boys died at least four years ago. Doug Cole wasn’t living in Blackthorn Road then. Neither were the Finchers.’
‘So we find out where he was living. Unless it’s suddenly tactically inappropriate to call bullshit on coincidences.’ Ron capped the marker pen in his fist. ‘Missing kids, abducted kids, it goes on the board.’
‘All right,’ Marnie said patiently. ‘You look into that. You’ve checked the sex offenders’ register from five years ago?’
‘Yeah. They’re competing with Misper for the Shit-All Information gong.’
‘Fran didn’t think they were abused . . . All right. Let’s get on. DS Jake and I’ll do the house-to-house on Blackthorn Road after we’ve been to see Ian Merrick. DC Tanner, I want you to check in on the Doyles, see how they’re settling into the house you found.’
Ron said, ‘I’ll put a steel toecap up Misper as soon as they’re answering the phones. Those kids must’ve been reported missing.’
‘Unless it was the parents,’ Debbie said. She pulled a face. ‘Sorry, that’s a horrid thought, but the parents could have covered it up, not reported it . . .’
Noah shook his head. ‘They were school age. The school would’ve reported any long-term absence.’ They hadn’t let Sol bunk off longer than two days before they got on the phone, issuing absence agreements and, when that didn’t work, threatening exclusion. Not much of a threat, under the circumstances.
‘They could’ve been home-schooled,’ Ron put in. ‘There’s a couple of kids like that at my boys’ school . . . Mind you, they get more red tape than the rest of us, as far as I can tell.’
‘Or maybe they were
‘Murder,’ Debbie echoed. She was making notes.
‘Domestic,’ Ron folded his arms, ‘with knobs on.’ He was reading Marnie’s face; knew her tells. Like Noah, he’d not been in her team eighteen months ago.
Marnie nodded. ‘DS Carling gets the big clock. It was a domestic. Lizzie was alive and well. She’d been left with a friend of her mother’s. Doug Cole.’
‘At number 8?’ Debbie checked her notes.
‘At number 8. On the day we were looking for Lizzie, Mr Cole was travelling around the Underground with her. He said it was her favourite game and of course he had no reception on his phone to answer the calls we made during house-to-house.’
‘So it was the mum,’ Ron said, ‘winding Fincher up.’
Marnie shook her head. ‘She always denied that. She said Lizzie was friends with Cole and that she told him a fib about her mum wanting him to look after her for the day. Cole insisted it’d been agreed with Mrs Fincher.’
‘He was shagging the mother, right?’
‘Both of them denied that, Cole in the strongest terms. Mrs Fincher seemed to find the idea ridiculous. She described her friend Doug as “sexless and safe”.’
‘Meaning what?’ Ron looked sharp. ‘That he’s a perv?’
‘She didn’t elaborate, but there was no evidence that MrCole had abducted Lizzie. The little girl was happy in his company. There was certainly no evidence he’d harmed her.’
‘He could’ve been saving that for another time . . .’ Ron picked up a marker pen. ‘I’m putting him on the board.’
He wrote ‘Doug Cole’ on the whiteboard and underlined it.
Debbie said, ‘Did we charge the Finchers with wasting police time?’
‘No. The press got involved. It was considered tactically inappropriate to charge them.’
‘Tactically inappropriate,’ Ron echoed. ‘You mean Welland handed you the shitty end of the stick to keep the press quiet?’
Marnie shut him up with a look. ‘These boys died at least four years ago. Doug Cole wasn’t living in Blackthorn Road then. Neither were the Finchers.’
‘So we find out where he was living. Unless it’s suddenly tactically inappropriate to call bullshit on coincidences.’ Ron capped the marker pen in his fist. ‘Missing kids, abducted kids, it goes on the board.’
‘All right,’ Marnie said patiently. ‘You look into that. You’ve checked the sex offenders’ register from five years ago?’
‘Yeah. They’re competing with Misper for the Shit-All Information gong.’
‘Fran didn’t think they were abused . . . All right. Let’s get on. DS Jake and I’ll do the house-to-house on Blackthorn Road after we’ve been to see Ian Merrick. DC Tanner, I want you to check in on the Doyles, see how they’re settling into the house you found.’
Ron said, ‘I’ll put a steel toecap up Misper as soon as they’re answering the phones. Those kids must’ve been reported missing.’
‘Unless it was the parents,’ Debbie said. She pulled a face. ‘Sorry, that’s a horrid thought, but the parents could have covered it up, not reported it . . .’
Noah shook his head. ‘They were school age. The school would’ve reported any long-term absence.’ They hadn’t let Sol bunk off longer than two days before they got on the phone, issuing absence agreements and, when that didn’t work, threatening exclusion. Not much of a threat, under the circumstances.
‘They could’ve been home-schooled,’ Ron put in. ‘There’s a couple of kids like that at my boys’ school . . . Mind you, they get more red tape than the rest of us, as far as I can tell.’
‘Or maybe they were
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