The Dead Ground (5 page)

Gerard shook his head. ‘We got nothing off the traffic cams so far. We’d need a vehicle description or a licence plate or something. Also, Corry said there were no prints on the cot or anything like that. It’d been wiped off, looked like, or she wore gloves. She knew what she was doing.’

Guy frowned. ‘And no one saw a thing. As you said, it’s hard to believe, isn’t it? There must have been hundreds of people on the ward that day.’

They all fell silent, marvelling at how few leads there could be in a case where someone had walked into a busy place and brazenly taken a baby that wasn’t theirs.

Paula cleared her throat. ‘She looks very calm doing that, doesn’t she?’

‘Yes?’ Guy leapt on this comment. ‘You think that’s significant?’

‘Well, you’d be nervous, wouldn’t you, if you were going to walk in and take a child from under his parents’ noses. Unless maybe you felt you had a right to.’

‘Meaning?’

She spoke carefully. ‘If I had to guess . . .’

‘Do.’

‘I’d say maybe she does work at the hospital. Or used to. Can we question all the staff on that floor? Someone will have seen her, but if she works there they might not have realised she was the abductor. Hiding in plain sight, you know.’

Guy said, ‘It’s the snow that’s the issue here. Half the staff didn’t even make it in that day, and apparently they were phoning round to get people in from leave and so on. So we can’t be sure who was even there. Corry’s brought in a police artist to work with the husband, try to get a face. We can get this footage enhanced too. Send it over to Tech, Avril.’

‘It’s been done,’ said Gerard gloomily. ‘Corry.’

Guy looked annoyed. ‘Paula? What’s your progress with a profile?’

‘As we’ve seen, it’s almost certainly a woman, and I would say someone with a connection to the hospital. It’s also someone who wants a child and doesn’t have one for some reason. I’d look at present and recent staff, in particular anyone who may have lost a child. Maternity leave records should show if anyone recently had a baby.’

‘Unless it was a miscarriage,’ Avril offered. ‘There’d be no record then.’

Paula nodded. That was good thinking. ‘All staff should be asked if they know who might recently have been pregnant or lost a baby.’

‘We can do that.’ Guy was hungry, clearly desperate to hang onto the case. ‘What else?’

Paula looked at her notes, made while awake till three a.m. the night before. ‘We’ve discussed that they may have done it before. We should put out an appeal – see if any families with young children noticed someone hanging about, taking an unusual interest in their babies. Also see if anyone knows someone who’s suddenly come home with a newborn.’

‘So anyone with a baby could be a suspect.’ Gerard was picking at his cuticles.

‘Essentially, yes.’ Paula waited for him to contradict her, which he duly did, turning to Guy.

‘Boss – you don’t think maybe it’s to do with them being Polish?’

Guy looked puzzled at Gerard’s change of topic. ‘Explain?’

Gerard rested his elbows on the table. ‘The Polish who come here, they’re all Catholics, yeah? And the local UVF fellas, they know that. Last year we had a family burned out of their house.’

‘You’re saying this is a sectarian incident, DC Monaghan?’

‘I’m just saying, before we go into all these theories –’ he waved a dismissive hand at Paula –‘maybe it’s something more likely. The usual story round here. The family is clearly Catholic, and they come over here and get jobs, and someone doesn’t like it.’

Paula scowled. ‘It seems a really weird way to get that point across. What about the old staples? Petrol bombs, graffiti? Why kidnap a baby, for God’s sake?’

‘That’s your department.’ Gerard sat back, linking his hands behind his head.

Paula decided to ignore him. ‘I would highly doubt if there were a sectarian motive in this case. I’ve outlined the areas where I feel we should start looking. We should also think about what she did with the bracelet.’

Guy frowned again. ‘Bracelet?’

‘You know, the little name tag.’ She encircled her wrist with her fingers, remembering her own –
Baby Girl Maguire
. A small thing saved and treasured by her mother. Used as evidence over the years on the side of –
no, she’d never have left. She loved me, she kept this
.

Guy was looking at her. She tried to pay attention. ‘I mean, the child will have had ID on him, if we can find it. It’s hospital procedure, isn’t it?’

He nodded. ‘All right. Interesting theories, everyone. Our main resource will be our access to all databases – and of course Paula’s ability to give us a rough profile of the offender.’

That was alarming. ‘I can only give an educated guess, you know.’

‘Better than nothing.’

‘You want me on something, boss?’ asked Fiacra Quinn. He’d taken out his white headphones for the meeting, but they dangled over the collar of his shirt.

‘Yes,’ said Guy. ‘You can check databases in the South for anything similar. We may also need you to do home interviews – some of the hospital’s staff live over the border, I gather, so there may be jurisdiction issues. Sergeant Hamilton will be assisting with those too. We’re talking hundreds of people.’

He was saying ‘we’, but Paula felt they all knew DCI Corry would be running the show. ‘Will there be a TV appeal?’

Guy rested his eyes on her. ‘Yes, but Corry wants to do it. Something about speaking woman to woman . . .’ He grimaced. ‘She’ll need your profile asap for that, by the way. That’s all, everyone. I can’t stress how little time we have here – a newborn can die within hours if not properly looked after.’ He dismissed them neatly, squaring off his briefing papers.

Paula’s first instinct was to rush out, but he started to speak, and then so did she, and their words clashed. He smiled thinly. ‘I wondered if you felt any better.’

‘Yeah,’ she lied. ‘Must have been a twenty-four-hour thing.’ Twenty-four years, more like. A worm of panic twisted in her chest.

‘Have you got ten minutes today to talk? I know things are incredibly busy.’

She started to say yes, then remembered today was the bloody appointment Saoirse had booked for her at the clinic. For a moment she thought about not going. But the idea of leaving it was even more frightening. ‘I have to go out for a bit. Is it important?’

He seemed to hesitate. ‘It can wait. But where are you going? You know Corry needs the profile.’

‘Yes – um. It’s a lead I’m following.’ He looked at her hard and she squirmed, remembering the trouble she’d got into on the last case for working on her own. ‘Honest, it is.’

‘All right. Just keep me in the loop.’ He turned his attention back to the briefing sheets, scouring them for some fact they might have missed, and she crept out, feeling her secret clasped tight in her pocket.

Chapter Four

The address on the leaflet Saoirse had given Paula turned out to be above a video shop on a dilapidated street behind the market. The whole area spoke of the shady and seedy, but the office itself had a sturdy, recently refurbished door, and a very complicated buzzer entryphone. The windows on the first floor were tinted glass. Paula had scanned the street carefully, looking for a sign of the protestors Saoirse mentioned, but it was deserted. A placard tied to the lamppost opposite declared that the clinic murdered babies. Paula averted her eyes from the pictures. She checked the display on her phone – she really didn’t have time for this today – then leaned on the buzzer, looking furtively round her.

There was an answer on the intercom. A girl’s voice came over it, harassed. ‘Yes?’

‘Um . . . I’ve got an appointment.’ It was silly, but she didn’t want to say her name aloud in the street.

‘Who did you make it through?’

‘Dr McLoughlin, up at the hospital?’ Paula was getting irritated – she needed this appointment, difficult as it was, to be as quick and soothing as possible. She needed to get back to her life and help find Alek Pachek and bring him home.

Over the intercom, the girl sighed. ‘You better come up.’ The door buzzed open and Paula went up a flight of polished stairs. It was the same at the top, a clinical but comfortable space.

At the reception desk, a dark-haired girl was speaking into the phone in annoyed tones. ‘Well I know, miss, but I can’t do anything about it. We can reschedule, maybe. Don’t shout at me, miss. I’m only doing my job.’ She sat the receiver down with a clatter. ‘Sorry about the buzzer,’ she said, unapologetically, to Paula. ‘Security, like. There’s been threats.’

‘I can imagine. Er . . . what’s happening?’

The girl threw up her hands in exasperation. ‘Listen, she can’t see you today.’

‘Oh.’ Paula held on tight to the strap of her bag. ‘Why?’

Another sigh. The girl wore a pair of cheap grey trousers, and had long shiny black hair and red nails. ‘She didn’t turn up.’

‘Who?’

‘The doctor, of course. Dr Bates.’

‘Is she sick?’

‘I don’t know. She never thought I might need to be told. I’ve been getting dog’s abuse all morning for it.’

Paula was trying to adjust. ‘OK – so she just didn’t turn up this morning?’

‘That’s what I said. I’ve rung her mobile and it’s not on, even though if she can’t get hold of me within five minutes she’s losing the head.’

‘Is there anyone at home you could try?’

The girl’s sneer deepened. ‘I’m not allowed her home number, am I? “Security”.’

‘I’m sorry – what’s your name?’

A pause. ‘Erin.’

‘Well, Erin, is this the kind of thing she’d do?’ Without thinking she’d slipped into work mode, the questions you always asked. Being the one who looked, who sought. That was better than lying on a couch in a doctor’s office with your legs wide open, having to make some kind of decision about the rest of your life.

‘No way,’ Erin was saying. ‘She’d go mental if I took a sick day. I have to ring her by seven to let her know. And she’s mad on data protection. All the appointment details are protected, the client names and that. I can’t even get into them without her.’

Paula looked round at the waiting room, the racks of pastel leaflets on contraception and choices – that word again. ‘When did it open?’

‘This summer. She said it was a disgrace we’re in the UK but the women here have to go to England for abortions. Some people come to her for coils and that, but mostly it’s for termination referrals.’ She looked at Paula as if suddenly remembering that was probably why she’d come too. ‘Anyway, there was lots of trouble – bricks in the window of her house and even death threats. She had to go ex-directory and all that. She gave me one of those alarms, you know the ones, you can set them off if you get raped or something.’

‘But you like working here, even so?’

Erin twisted her mouth, considering. ‘I suppose. She’s a massive cow, like, but it’s only ’cos she cares. This place is like her life.’

‘You’re pro-choice, I take it?’

‘Yes.’ Said defiantly. ‘I don’t see why some girl in London can get help if she needs it, but ’cos I live in Ballyterrin I’d have to go all the way there. Anyway, we put them on the Friday night plane and they stay in a hostel in London.’ She suddenly stopped, as if she’d shared too much. ‘Why’re you asking anyway?’

‘Oh.’ Paula had forgotten where she was. ‘Listen, I work with the police – you know, the unit for missing people.’

‘The one that’s always in the paper?’

‘Yeah.’ Bloody Aidan and his so-called exposés. He’d do whatever he could to stick the boot into the unit – he thought it was a waste of money that should have gone to prosecuting former terrorists. ‘If Dr Bates can’t be located by the end of today, you should call this number.’ She managed to find a dog-eared card in her bag, under a litter of pens, sweet wrappers, and tampons. Wouldn’t be needing those, not unless she did something fast. ‘The police won’t usually act before twenty-four hours are up, but if as you say there’ve been death threats, we need to be fast. If you come straight to us we can get moving on it right away; you don’t have to go through the PSNI switchboard.’ It wasn’t strictly speaking protocol, but Paula thought Corry could stand to lose a case or two.

The girl looked uncertain as she took the card. ‘You think something’s happened to her?’

‘Chances are she’s fine, but it doesn’t hurt to check.’

Erin clutched the card, clearly realigning her world view. ‘Eh – do you want to reschedule your appointment?’

‘Let’s see what happens for now. Is there any way you could find out if she’s at home?’

‘Her partner – she works in the hospital, in accounts. I could ring her. She’s nice to me.’

‘Good idea.’ The hospital again. And Paula had noted the ‘she’ – if the doctor was a lesbian who advocated abortion, chances were she wasn’t too popular in Ballyterrin. She hoped Alison Bates was just sick at home, but if not, they wouldn’t have to look too far to find someone who would wish her ill.

Ignoring a certain feeling of relief at the cancelled appointment, Paula dashed back to the office to immerse herself in work. As she went in Guy was on the phone, and gestured to her through the plate glass. He put the receiver down and came to the door. A thin crease of annoyance had taken up permanent residence between his eyebrows. ‘She’s only bloody called a press conference for this afternoon.’

‘Who, Corry?’

‘Who else? We’ll have to shift it to get our initial report done. She’s insisting we have the conference up there. I tried to argue, but – oh, you know what she’s like.’

Paula was shrugging her coat off. Helen Corry was one of the few people she’d met who actually cowed her into silence. Guy looked pointedly at his watch. ‘Get your thing done?’

‘Yes thanks.’ Bloody cheek of him, interrogating her, when it was most likely his fault she was in this mess. She thought about mentioning the missing doctor, but decided it was too soon, and in any case it would be too hard to explain what she’d been doing there.

‘OK. Well, Corry wants your profile now, basically.’

‘I’ll do my best. She does realise I don’t actually know who did it?’

‘Knowing her, she thinks it’s our fault we can’t personally see through time and space and have an arrest already. Just do your best.’