In Safe Hands - J. P. Carter A DCI Anna Tate Crime Thriller

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was a list of addresses, all of them within a couple of miles of the nursery.

      ‘This is great, Megan,’ Anna said. ‘I want everyone involved in the case to have a copy. But don’t release it to the media until I say so.’

      Anna then went in search of the crime scene manager for an update on the forensic sweep of the nursery. But on the way she was collared by an anxious-looking PC. He was with a thin, grey-haired woman who must have been in her late sixties or early seventies.

      ‘You need to speak to this lady, ma’am,’ he said. ‘Her name is Felicity Bradshaw and she lives on Peabody Street a few doors down from the nursery. She actually saw the children being taken away.’

      Anna felt a jolt of anticipation as she introduced herself.

      ‘Please tell me exactly what you saw, Mrs Bradshaw,’ she said.

      The woman spoke in a voice that was loud and clear, though charged with emotion.

      ‘I was walking back from the shops,’ she said. ‘I saw the minibus parked outside the nursery. It hadn’t been there when I walked past the spot earlier so I assumed it had only just arrived. And it struck me that it was a different colour to the buses that are usually parked outside. They’re blue.

      ‘Anyway, I was just approaching it when the children came marching out of the nursery so I stopped to watch them. As usual they were all wide-eyed and in a state of high excitement. They didn’t look at all distressed. They were in a line and holding hands and three men in suits were with them. One of the men actually smiled at me and I smiled back.

      ‘The children were talking and laughing as they were herded onto the bus and I enjoyed watching them. The men then got on with them, but I couldn’t see them once they were inside because the windows were blacked out. As soon as the door closed the bus drove off and I assumed they were going on an outing.’

      ‘Did you notice anything else?’ Anna said. ‘Anything at all?’

      Mrs Bradshaw thought about it for a beat and said, ‘Actually I forgot to mention the young woman who was there.’

      ‘Woman?’

      ‘That’s right. She was standing just inside the door and it looked as though she was welcoming the kids on board the bus.’

      ‘Can you describe her for me?’

      ‘I didn’t really pay her much attention, but I think she had short reddish hair and was wearing a yellow top and jeans. I suppose she must have been in her early twenties or perhaps even younger. But I do remember that she was greeting the kids with a big smile while handing out what looked like sweets from a bag.’

       CHAPTER TEN

      The parents had been moved from the cafeteria to the largest of the meeting rooms. It looked out on the forecourt so they could see all the activity through the slatted blinds. The room had been due to host a lunch for a group of local pensioners. The lunch had been cancelled and the chairs and tables rearranged so that the parents could sit facing Anna when she spoke to them.

      By the time she got there twelve people had turned up – four married couples, two divorced wives without their ex-husbands and two husbands without their wives. That left five of the parents who were still absent. Anna was told that the police hadn’t yet been able to contact the parents of four-year-old Toby Chandler or Phil Green, the father of Simone Green, who was also four. But the mother of Abdul Ahmed had been informed and was on her way to Peabody Street. Meanwhile, Molly Wilson’s mother was stuck at home with two other children and a family liaison officer was with her.

      Anna’s plan was to provide them with an update and then later her team of detectives would interview them individually. She wanted to find out as much as possible about them and their children. She needed to know if any of them had their suspicions about who might be involved in the kidnapping. She wanted details of where they lived and worked, and access to their phone records. She also needed to check whether any of them were on the criminal records database.

      Doing all that here rather than in their homes would speed up the process considerably. Time was a major factor now and it was already working against them. But at least they were beginning to make some progress. They had identified the minibus believed to have been used and were now tracking it across London.

      And they had a witness who had seen the children boarding the vehicle. The same witness had also revealed that there was a fourth gang member – a young woman who’d been waiting on the bus to greet the children. No doubt her role had been to make them feel comfortable in the presence of so many strangers.

      Anna felt ill-at-ease as she stood before her audience of desperate mothers and fathers, and she was aware that beads of sweat were gathering on her forehead.

      She began by giving the parents the option of staying in the community centre for as long as they wanted or being taken home to wait for news there.

      ‘You might find that being here together for a time will help you cope with the situation,’ she said. ‘Officers are available to answer your questions and we can be of assistance when it comes to talking to the media. They are likely to hound you for interviews, which we would advise you to decline for the time being. Just let it be known what you’d prefer to do.’

      She then asked them to introduce themselves and the first to respond was Ethan Brady, who said, ‘I’m Liam Brady’s father. You’ve already met my wife so you know that our son has cystic fibrosis. If he doesn’t get his medication he could die. So you need to do whatever you can to get him back quickly.’

      Ethan Brady was much taller than his wife and came across as far more assertive. His narrow face sported designer stubble and his dark eyes had a piercing quality even from a distance.

      He was about to say something else when one of the other fathers leapt to his feet and fixed Ethan with a hostile stare.

      ‘That’s typical of you, Brady,’ the man shouted. ‘But this time it’s not all about your precious fucking son. The rest of us have as much reason to worry as you do.’

      ‘I’m not saying you don’t,’ Ethan reacted. ‘But you know how ill Liam is.’

      ‘Sure we do, because you and your wife never stop telling us. I’ve told you before that I don’t think a kid with cystic fibrosis should be allowed in the nursery anyway. It’s too risky. And the staff ignore our kids because they spend too much time fretting over him.’

      Anna was taken aback by the outburst and stepped in to stop things getting out of hand.

      ‘Please would you not raise your voice or be disrespectful to others, sir,’ she said. ‘One of the reasons for bringing you together like this is so that you can offer support to each other.’

      The man puffed out his chest and appeared keen to carry on his rant but his wife took hold of his arm and pulled him back onto his seat. Ethan glared at the back of the guy’s head but remained silent, much to Anna’s relief.

      ‘OK, so let’s now moderate the tone and can you please carry on telling me who you are,’ she said.

      Mr Angry turned out to be Kenneth Tenant, father of four-year-old Grace, the same man who had apparently threatened a PC when he was refused entry into the nursery earlier.

      He was a rough-looking individual with stern features and a downturned mouth. His behaviour revealed what Anna took to be simmering tensions between him and the Brady couple. She just hoped the situation they were in did not make matters between them much worse. The last thing she needed was the parents turning on each other as the pressure on them mounted, as it surely would.

      They got through the rest of the introductions quickly and with no more awkward moments. Anna then tried to inject an element of optimism into the proceedings by telling them that the minibus had been picked up on a

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