Blackout - By Tom Barber Page 0,14

over and pushed a button for the loudspeaker on the phone.

'Yep?'

‘Sir, I spoke to CID,’ Nikki said, her voice filling the office. ‘I have some bad news.’

‘What?’

‘The wife and boy are both missing.’

‘What?’

‘No one has seen or heard from them since the news of the suicide. Not family, nor friends. They’ve just vanished. The boy didn’t show up for school, and the woman isn’t picking up her phone.’

‘What about the house?’

‘DI Graham went round to talk to her, but no one answered. When they eventually got inside, he and another detective found two unmade beds upstairs. The master and the kid’s room. But the house was empty. No bags were packed though. Everything was still there. Clothes, valuables, the whole lot. They haven’t done a runner.’

‘Maybe they had a fight,’ Porter suggested, loud enough so Nikki could hear.

‘Seems unlikely,’ Nikki said. ‘DI Graham said the neighbours told him they heard no noise last night, saw no one arrive or leave the house. Adams was at the office until midnight anyway, so if they argued, it would have been over the phone.’

She paused, as Cobb and Porter absorbed what she’d just said.

‘Speaking of his office, I have more news for your sir.’

‘Go on.’

‘DI Graham spoke to the receptionist at Mr Adams' office. The girl said a letter came in the post for him late last night, around eleven o'clock, completely out of the blue. She said she gave it to him before he went home for the night, around midnight. She was the last person who saw him alive.’

Cobb looked at Porter, and both men frowned.

‘Have they found the letter?’ Cobb asked.

‘No, sir. But they found the envelope in his car. Forensics took a swab from the seal and are already running it to try and match the DNA. They're also checking the envelope for prints or anything at all they can trace which might tell us where it came from. When they found his body, the report said there were black remnants of burnt paper by his feet. Two different types. Standard sheet paper and photographic.’

Cobb nodded. ‘Any details?’

‘No sir. They were only singed edges, all curled up. The letter and photographs themselves were torched. Only parts of the edges are left, and those are black and charred.’

Cobb swore.

‘Shit. What progress is DI Graham making re the two missing persons?’

‘They are already going through her phonebook and contacting friends and family. He hasn’t alerted the press yet, but he’s going to let them know shortly and put out a plea for public help to call them immediately if there are any sightings. Adams’ wife was starting to become recognisable to people, so he thinks that might help locate her.’

‘OK. Stay on it. The moment it comes in, I want to know of any progress. If anything comes up that is relevant, let me know. And I mean anything.’

‘Yes, sir.’

The call ended. Cobb shook his head and leaned back in his chair, looking at Porter.

‘Shit, Port. What do you think?’

‘I don’t know,’ Porter said. ‘Maybe someone had dirt on him? Elections are coming up. Something from his past that he wouldn't want anyone to find out about? They put it in the letter and he felt it was worth killing himself over?’

‘Bad enough to blow his brains out?’ Cobb asked, frowning. He shook his head. ‘No way. That's not the person I knew. He was a good man, through and through. He would never have done anything so bad he’d kill himself. And that doesn’t explain his family going missing.’

Porter thought for a moment.

‘I hate to say it, but kidnap?’

Cobb exhaled slowly, then nodded.

‘Looks probable, doesn’t it. Shit. And the letter is definitely connected. Who delivers mail at eleven o’clock at night? Who knew he’d still be at his office? And why would he burn it?’

Porter nodded.

‘Nikki said there were two kinds. Sheet and photographic. So probably text and photographs. Maybe a threat and a visual aid.’

There was a silence.

‘Shit,’ Cobb said again. ‘Anyway, whatever happens, we'll stay close to it. It's not our investigation, but I damn well want to be kept in the loop about this. That press release about the missing persons will help.’

‘You think someone will find them?’

Cobb looked at him.

‘I hope so.’

Across the city in Mayfair, an American in a smart suit was making his way along Upper Grosvenor Street, carrying nothing save a briefcase, his expensive shoes clicking on the smooth concrete pavement as he walked. Turning the corner to his left and checking the