Fraser just off the main area, so she could run the show from there, as well as an “intel” room, a CCTV room, an exhibits office, and a store. It was an arrangement that meant we could keep everything close; it was proven to work well.
Straight off, we allocated actions to the officers we already had working, to confirm the whereabouts of all the local sex offenders who were already known to us and to look through records for previous incidents relating to missing children or any peepers, flashers, or attempted abductions in the area. We had four pairs of officers in place and Fraser was adamant that she was going to need ten pairs at least.
At ten a.m. we got a call to say the parents had been brought in. Fraser said, “You should get down there and get straight on with the interviews. Do it by the book, Jim. I want every i dotted and every t crossed. I’m also going to speak to the Super because I think we’ve got grounds to get a CRA out already. The criteria are met. You need to ask the parents for a photograph ASAP.”
CRA stood for Child Rescue Alert. I knew the criteria, you learn them by rote: if the missing child is under sixteen, if a police officer of superintendent rank or higher feels that serious harm or death might come to the child, if the child has been kidnapped and there are sufficient details about the child or abductor to make it useful, then you can issue one. The point of it is to inform police, press, and public nationwide that a child is missing. A news flash interrupts TV and radio programs to alert the public, and border agencies and police forces around the country will be primed to be on the lookout. It’s as serious as it gets.
I took a last look through the questions I’d been preparing for the parents, made myself take a deep breath. This was it. I was as ready as I was going to be. As detectives, we’re trained to know that what you do in the first few hours after a child has disappeared is crucial. Ben Finch had already been missing for more than twelve hours and our investigation was only just launching. I didn’t need Fraser to tell me that operationally speaking we were on the back foot already, or that every step we took from now on would be under scrutiny.
“Woodley,” I said to a rookie DC whom Fraser had attached to the case. He was a tall, skinny lad with a face only a mother could love. “Get me a tea tray ready. Enough for three. And biscuits. Take it down to the rape suite but don’t take it in. Wait for me outside.”
If a female officer in plainclothes brings a tray of tea into a room, everyone assumes she’s from catering. If a male officer does the same, it makes him seem like a nice guy, puts people at ease. Just a little tip I learned from my dad.
RACHEL
They took John and me to different places.
I was interviewed in a low-ceilinged room that was windowless and oppressive. I was met there by a tall young woman, who introduced herself as DC Emma Zhang. She wore a smart, slim-fitting business suit. She had lovely caramel-colored skin, and thick black hair tied neatly into a ponytail, deep, dark eyes that were almond-shaped and beautiful, and a warm smile.
She shook my hand and told me that she would be my family liaison officer and she sat down beside me on an uncomfortable sofa with boxy arms and adjusted her skirt.
“We’re going to do everything we can to find Ben,” she said. “Please be assured of that. His welfare will be our absolute priority, and my role is to keep you informed about what’s happening as the investigation and the search for Ben progress. And you must feel free to come to me with any queries, or anything at all for that matter, because I’m here to make sure you feel looked after too.”
I felt reassured by DC Zhang, by her apparent competence and her easy, approachable manner. It gave me a modicum of hope.
There was nothing to look at in the room except for a matching pair of armchairs, a meanly proportioned beech
Straight off, we allocated actions to the officers we already had working, to confirm the whereabouts of all the local sex offenders who were already known to us and to look through records for previous incidents relating to missing children or any peepers, flashers, or attempted abductions in the area. We had four pairs of officers in place and Fraser was adamant that she was going to need ten pairs at least.
At ten a.m. we got a call to say the parents had been brought in. Fraser said, “You should get down there and get straight on with the interviews. Do it by the book, Jim. I want every i dotted and every t crossed. I’m also going to speak to the Super because I think we’ve got grounds to get a CRA out already. The criteria are met. You need to ask the parents for a photograph ASAP.”
CRA stood for Child Rescue Alert. I knew the criteria, you learn them by rote: if the missing child is under sixteen, if a police officer of superintendent rank or higher feels that serious harm or death might come to the child, if the child has been kidnapped and there are sufficient details about the child or abductor to make it useful, then you can issue one. The point of it is to inform police, press, and public nationwide that a child is missing. A news flash interrupts TV and radio programs to alert the public, and border agencies and police forces around the country will be primed to be on the lookout. It’s as serious as it gets.
I took a last look through the questions I’d been preparing for the parents, made myself take a deep breath. This was it. I was as ready as I was going to be. As detectives, we’re trained to know that what you do in the first few hours after a child has disappeared is crucial. Ben Finch had already been missing for more than twelve hours and our investigation was only just launching. I didn’t need Fraser to tell me that operationally speaking we were on the back foot already, or that every step we took from now on would be under scrutiny.
“Woodley,” I said to a rookie DC whom Fraser had attached to the case. He was a tall, skinny lad with a face only a mother could love. “Get me a tea tray ready. Enough for three. And biscuits. Take it down to the rape suite but don’t take it in. Wait for me outside.”
If a female officer in plainclothes brings a tray of tea into a room, everyone assumes she’s from catering. If a male officer does the same, it makes him seem like a nice guy, puts people at ease. Just a little tip I learned from my dad.
RACHEL
They took John and me to different places.
I was interviewed in a low-ceilinged room that was windowless and oppressive. I was met there by a tall young woman, who introduced herself as DC Emma Zhang. She wore a smart, slim-fitting business suit. She had lovely caramel-colored skin, and thick black hair tied neatly into a ponytail, deep, dark eyes that were almond-shaped and beautiful, and a warm smile.
She shook my hand and told me that she would be my family liaison officer and she sat down beside me on an uncomfortable sofa with boxy arms and adjusted her skirt.
“We’re going to do everything we can to find Ben,” she said. “Please be assured of that. His welfare will be our absolute priority, and my role is to keep you informed about what’s happening as the investigation and the search for Ben progress. And you must feel free to come to me with any queries, or anything at all for that matter, because I’m here to make sure you feel looked after too.”
I felt reassured by DC Zhang, by her apparent competence and her easy, approachable manner. It gave me a modicum of hope.
There was nothing to look at in the room except for a matching pair of armchairs, a meanly proportioned beech
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