Make Believe Read online

  ‘You didn’t know?’ Michael said, shocked.

  ‘I do now,’ Janine said.

  ‘Dad probably didn’t get chance to tell you,’ Eleanor said.

  A baby. How could he? Starting a family with Tina, did he not see how hurtful that would be to Janine? To the kids? As if what he had, two sons, two daughters, was not enough.

  Janine’s eyes stung and she sniffed hard, cleared her throat.

  ‘He wanted to surprise you,’ Tom announced, navigating the strange territory of the grown ups’ world.

  He’s done that, all right, Janine thought. ‘Yes,’ she smiled at Tom.

  ‘But it won’t go in my room, will it Mum?’ he said.

  ‘No,’ she promised.

  The kids barely got enough attention from Pete as it was, a new baby would make it even worse. No wonder he had been so awkward that morning, eager to escape. He was like a child sometimes, pretending that hiding a thing meant everything was all right. Just as Janine had hoped life was getting back onto an even keel, he’d provided her with another huge complicated mess. It felt the same as when Tina and he had shacked up together. Bloody awful.

  The kids were in bed, apart from Michael who was on the computer. Janine stood over Charlotte’s cot and watched her sleep. Charlotte sucked her thumb at nights but had relaxed enough now for her to lose the suction and her hand was against her chin, a thoughtful pose. Janine saw the slight movement of the cover as Charlotte breathed, shallow and slow. Being parents was the one thing Janine and Pete shared that Tina wasn’t party to. It was special. It had been theirs for the last seventeen years, that and the marriage. It had been a comfort of sorts that although Tina was now Pete’s partner, she wasn’t the mother of his children. Janine knew she’d get used to it in time, she’d have to, but now she was feeling stupidly jealous and raw.

  Her phone rang and she moved out onto the landing and checked the display. If it was Pete she’d not answer. She didn’t trust herself to be civil and bawling at him down the phone was not what she wanted to do. Well – she did but it wouldn’t achieve anything but cement the hostility that kept flaring up between them. When she read Shap’s name, she accepted the call. ‘Hello.’

  ‘Boss.’

  ‘Shap, if you’re angling for overtime, you can forget it,’ she said.

  ‘Clive Wray,’ he said, ‘Hayfield was hosting a fell race that day. Hundred and forty entrants, stewards and supporters. If he was there, he couldn’t have missed it. He said there was no-one much about to alibi him. He’s lying to us, boss.’

  Janine felt a surge of energy. This was just what they needed to keep the investigation moving forward. She wasn’t surprised by the news, people lied a lot, lied to the police as long as they thought they could get away with it. Shap’s earlier comments speculating about the family being involved suddenly looked a lot more likely.

  Day Two

  Tuesday April 29th

  Chapter 7

  Early that morning Janine made her way through the press camped outside the Wrays’ house, ignoring the intrusive thrust of cameras and the questions the journalists called out: Any news for us, ma’am? How are the family coping? What progress have you made? What about the bearded man seen at the park?

  Claire Wray opened the door herself and flinched at the barrage of activity outside.

  ‘Is there any news?’ Claire said as they went into the kitchen.

  ‘No, I’m sorry. Is Clive here, Claire?’

  ‘He’s out, we’ve no milk. If you want tea…’

  ‘That’s fine,’ Janine said.

  ‘He won’t be long,’ Claire said. The woman was so jittery. Her face flickered with emotion, hands busy.

  ‘I need to ask you a very difficult question, Claire. And I wouldn’t do so if it wasn’t vital,’ Janine said.

  Claire Wray nodded stiffly, stuffed her hands in her pockets. She looked at Janine directly then away.

  ‘We believe Clive is lying to us about going walking,’ said Janine.

  ‘I don’t know what to think anymore,’ Claire said urgently.

  Janine scalp prickled. Claire knew something. ‘Claire?’

  ‘The suspicion. It just grows and poisons everything. I thought I was being paranoid. He was so jumpy every time anyone asked us where we were. I thought I was going mad. His boots were clean. I looked in his pockets. I was going to ring you.’ Claire pulled a sheet of paper from her pocket. She handed it to Janine along with a little ticket.

  ‘That’s where he was,’ she said agitatedly. ‘Look at the date. He’s lying. A time like this and he’s lying. Why would he lie, when Sammy … why would he lie?’ She was distraught, close to breaking down, her eyes wild.

  Janine took in the contents of the flyer.

  ‘Thank you. I realise how very difficult this must be and I’ll make sure we find out exactly what’s going on. Can I ask you to keep this between ourselves for now until I’ve had time to look into it?’

  Claire, her mouth working with worry, nodded.

  ‘There may be a very simple explanation but you did the right thing telling me,’ Janine reassured her, when they heard the door opening.

  ‘Mr Wray,’ Janine said.

  ‘Hello?’ he said. He went to put the container of milk in the fridge.

  ‘I’m afraid I have no news as yet but I wanted to call and see if either of you had anything to add to your statements.’

  Clive shook his head, ‘No, sorry.’

  ‘Have either of you remembered anything fresh about the day Sammy went missing or the period leading up to it?’

  ‘The vandalism,’ Claire said suddenly.

  ‘What?’ said Janine.

  ‘We had these incidents, the car was scratched and the tyres let down, then we had a stone thrown at the window,’ she said.

  ‘You didn’t report this to the missing persons inquiry?’ Janine said.

  ‘It was weeks before, it was just kids,’ Clive said dismissively. ‘You get a spate of things and then it goes quiet.’

  ‘Could you make a note for me,’ Janine asked them. ‘When the incidents occurred, exactly what happened.’

  ‘You think there might be a connection?’ Claire said.

  ‘Just being thorough, we don’t know yet what is significant and what isn’t but it is important to consider everything.’

  Claire nodded, wringing her hands.

  As she left them, Janine wondered if Claire had the fortitude to keep quiet about what she had uncovered or whether she would crack under the pressure and confront Clive. The sooner the inquiry could establish exactly what was going on with Clive Wray the better.

  ‘We know he wasn’t hiking,’ Janine told Richard as they rode up in the lift to the incident room together. ‘But we get the story behind this before we pull him in.’ She indicated the leaflet and parking ticket in a protective evidence bag.

  Richard’s phone rang and he answered, ‘Millie.’

  He listened and laughed. ‘Do you now? Well, you’ll have to wait, won’t you?’

  Oh please, Janine thought. She could do without being party to innuendo-ridden flirting between Richard and Millie. She rolled her eyes at him but he affected not to notice.

  ‘But listen,’ he said, ‘Clive Wray, his wife’s shopped him. He wasn’t roaming the dark peak, turns out he was at Sport City.’

  Janine bristled. Who was he to go telling the press office what was happening? She was in charge.

  ‘Don’t know, yet,’ he said.

  The lift stopped and the doors opened. There was more dirty laughter from Richard as he ended the call, ‘Yeah, catch you then,’ and followed Janine out.

  Janine glared at him.

  ‘What?’ he said.

  ‘I’m the SIO. I decide when and how the press officer is briefed,’ she snapped.

  Richard looked taken aback. ‘She was on the phone. Are you serious?’

  Of course she was serious, she wouldn’t have bloody-well said it if she wasn’t.
/>   ‘Look,’ he said crossly, ‘maybe it’s a bit tricky for you, Millie and I seeing each other, working the same case together. If that’s hard for you to deal with, me dating someone here, if you want me to step down…’

  God, no! She felt ridiculous, exposed. He was making her out to be some petty bully and implying she was jealous. Besides they had a break in the case, it was all about to escalate. She wanted Richard onside not shipped off to another inquiry.

  ‘It’s got nothing to do with that,’ she said hotly. ‘You’re way off the mark.’

  ‘Am I? What then? Enlighten me!’

  ‘I do not have issues about you dating. It’s about clear channels of communication, that’s all.’

  ‘If you say so.’

  ‘Richard, you can date who you like, it’s none of my business.’

  ‘You got that right.’

  ‘As long as it doesn’t affect your professionalism,’ she said.

  He gasped, was about to object but she overrode him. ‘Fine, that’s sorted. Here.’ She passed him the flyer and the parking ticket. ‘Get someone onto that. We’ll schedule the meeting once we’ve more information on why on earth Clive Wray was at Sport City.’

  ‘Yes, boss,’ he flung the title at her and swung off in the other direction. Was she losing his friendship now along with everything else?

  Shap’s trip to the Sport City stadium paid dividends. The place was state of the art. Built to host the Commonwealth Games back in 2002 and now home to Manchester City football team, it included impressive security with comprehensive CCTV coverage. Shap was made comfortable and shown the rudiments of the console so he could view the relevant CCTV footage. The parking ticket was timed for 10.55 and activities had been focused around the playing fields. So he began from that time and concentrated on that location.

  Forty minutes later he found film of Clive Wray, Clive being given the bum’s rush by a very attractive, young competitor.

  ‘Naughty boy,’ Shap murmured and went to see about e-mailing the file across to the inquiry.

  Now he sat with the others in the incident room as they all watched the scene: an under-16 girls’ hockey match stopped for half-time; a digital time counter on the screen showing 11.45; All Saint’s v Marsh High School visible on a scoreboard. Spectators and players milled about as Clive Wray approached a player, a young woman with long dark hair and tried to draw her into a hug. She pushed him away and began shouting at him. Clive Wray appeared to be pleading with her but moved away as people glanced at them.

  ‘Jailbait,’ said Shap. ‘Not the sort of roving his missus had in mind when she filled his flask.’

  Richard said, ‘Could explain why he gave us the false alibi.’

  ‘Hang on,’ said the boss, ‘if you were having an illicit relationship would you be that upfront about it? It couldn’t be more public.’

  It was obvious to Shap, crystal clear. ‘He’s shagging her, she’s dumped him, he can’t take no for an answer. He’s just a saddo with a gymslip fixation.’

  The boss pulled a face, like she was not convinced at all, and said, ‘Bring him in for questioning.’

  Chapter 8

  Janine had made the introductions for the tape and then asked Mr Wray to account for his whereabouts on the day Sammy went missing.

  ‘I’ve already told you,’ he said, ‘I drove to Hayfield and—’

  ‘We know you weren’t hill-walking,’ Janine said crisply. ‘At the very least I could charge you with wasting police time.’

  ‘There’s no-one can vouch for me, that’s all,’ Clive Wray said defensively.

  Had the man no conscience? ‘We can prove you were not where you claimed to be,’ Janine said.

  ‘That’s ridiculous,’ he blustered but she saw the fear in his expression.

  Janine indicated that Richard should play the recording. ‘DI Mayne is now playing Mr Wray a CCTV recording, item number AS11.’

  Clive Wray stared at the laptop screen and Janine saw the blood drain from his face, saw his shoulders sag.

  ‘School finals up at Sport City,’ she said.

  On the screen the girl was yelling at Clive, he tried to reach her and she moved sharply away. ‘Your child went missing and you lied to the people trying to find him. For what? To cover up some seedy affair? Or was it more than that? What else are you lying about?’

  ‘She’s my daughter!’ he looked at Janine aghast. ‘My bloody daughter, Phoebe.’ That was the last thing Janine expected though it did answer her doubts as to the public setting for the liaison.

  ‘How dare you imply … and then you think I hurt Sammy!’

  ‘You lied to us. You’d better have a very good reason for doing so,’ she said coldly. ‘I’d like to hear it.’

  He heaved a sigh then began to talk. ‘When Felicity and I split up, I hoped to still see plenty of Phoebe. That’s why we bought the house, it was near enough for her to come round. But Felicity, my ex, she’s very volatile, needy.’ He shook his head. ‘She made our lives hell: coming to the house, abusive calls, turning up at work, threatening to kill herself. All these grand gestures. It was horrendous. In the end, I promised Claire a clean break. But that didn’t work either. Felicity just wouldn’t let go.’ He paused for a moment, biting his lip, then said, ‘The very day Sammy was born, Felicity took an overdose, Phoebe had to call an ambulance.’

  ‘When did this all start?’

  ‘I left Felicity when Claire got pregnant,’ he said. Janine thought of Pete, how it had been the other way round, leaving her when she got pregnant. Except now…

  ‘So you were seeing Claire while you were still married to Felicity?’

  ‘Yes,’ he said, jutting his chin forward slightly as if to defend that behaviour but Janine could tell he wasn’t proud of it.

  ‘How long had you been seeing each other?’

  ‘Does this matter?’ he said bullishly.

  ‘That’s for us to decide, not you,’ Janine replied.

  ‘Almost two years. Then I left but Felicity kept harassing us until Sammy was about six months old.’ His eyes filled with sudden tears and Janine guessed he had remembered afresh why they were here, that his child was missing presumed dead. ‘Things calmed down then and recently, well, I felt bad about Phoebe, I wanted to try and see her. I’d been there for the first eleven years and then, the way Felicity was it made it impossible for me to see her. Felicity poisoned her against me. But now she’s that bit older, I hoped … I thought …’

  ‘And the argument at the hockey match?’ Richard said.

  ‘I went to watch her play, tried to talk to her. But she’s still angry. She told me to piss off.’ He gave a shake of the head.

  ‘Where did you go?’ said Richard.

  ‘Just drove around, sat in the car.’

  ‘Around where?’ said Richard.

  ‘I don’t remember,’ said Clive Wray.

  They persisted for a while trying to get more on his movements but he kept repeating he couldn’t recall anything until returning home. True or a fudge?

  ‘Why did you conceal this from us?’ Janine said. ‘And from the missing persons inquiry?’

  ‘I didn’t want to upset Claire,’ he replied. ‘With Sammy gone and everything. She’d have hated me trying to see Phoebe, I just felt it was too much. And it didn’t matter.’

  ‘What matters,’ Janine said through gritted teeth, ‘is that you have wasted my time and resources and my officers’ time while we’ve been investigating your false account. Time that we could have otherwise spent trying to find out who killed a three-year-old child.’

  He swallowed. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘Do you have to tell Claire?’

  ‘No,’ Janine replied, ‘but you do.’

  Lies and secrets – the damage they did. Was that really all he’d been lying about?

  Janine stood with Richard beside the windows of the incident room watching Clive Wray leave, crossing the tram lines towards Central Library, hunched over against the rai
n.

  ‘Still no alibi for the afternoon,’ Richard said.

  ‘Still no motive,’ said Janine.

  ‘Maybe he thought he’d made the wrong choice, that the argument with Phoebe brought it home. Perhaps he felt Sammy was an obstacle?’

  ‘If he wanted to go back to Felicity,’ Janine said, ‘he could have just upped sticks and gone, he wouldn’t need to kill his son. Let’s talk to the girl.’

  Felicity Wray’s house reeked of incense. Mobiles and wind charms hung from every available place. Batik throws and Indian cottons threaded with gold and silver thread served as coverings for the furniture and curtains in the living room. But the chilled out vibe had little apparent effect on the woman herself, Janine swiftly realised. Felicity Wray seemed close to hysterical, nervy and melodramatic with a latent hostility that simmered behind her words. She swished about in a maxi dress, her arms adorned with bangles and love-beads around her neck, smoking a small cheroot.

  Phoebe, a dark-haired 14 year-old was a typical young teen, a mix of innocence and cynicism. Switching between disaffection and naivety within a few sentences. They were trying to talk to Phoebe, who was perched, arms firmly crossed, on the end of a huge sofa, but Felicity kept interrupting.

  ‘Clive says he wanted to try and make contact again,’ Janine said.

  ‘He thought he could just say sorry and make it all better. Like – hello?’ Phoebe was trying for disaffected teenager but Janine sensed a fragility behind the act.

  ‘That’s why you rowed?’ Janine said.

  Phoebe indicated it was.

  ‘You knew about this argument?’ Janine asked Felicity.

  ‘I told her,’ Phoebe said.

  ‘She stopped eating, you know, when he left,’ Felicity tossed her head, her earrings jingled. ‘Starved herse—’

  ‘Mum!’ Phoebe blushed furiously. At least Pete still saw his kids, Janine thought. How much harder would it have been if he’d abandoned them? She pictured Eleanor, 11 now and the same age as Phoebe was when Clive left. Eleanor would be completely crushed by something like that.