they contained drawings of three men and one woman.
It turned out I’d had blinkers on. Self-inflicted blinkers.
The boy was still hassling Keith and Tommy for food. I stepped into their eyeline.
‘I’m hungry, too.’ I knelt down to address the boy directly. ‘Do you want to come with me and get a hot dog?’
Tommy gave me an odd look. I couldn’t get a read on it. It was as though he was trying to communicate something he thought I’d understand. Maybe he’d been hoping the two of us would go out for dinner together once the display was over and didn’t want me to ruin my appetite?
I grabbed the boy’s gloved hand.
‘You lot want anything?’ I asked, already moving away.
Keith looked to Tommy for the answer.
‘No thanks,’ said Tommy, sending us off with a wave. ‘We’ll wait here. Don’t be long.’
We set off down the hill at pace. Unable to distinguish between the bangs and cracks searing the air above our heads and the hammering in my chest, I tried to process the fact I was alone with the boy. Keith seemed unconcerned that we’d gone off together. Was that because he thought I didn’t know his secret or because he genuinely had nothing to hide?
‘It was nice of your uncle to bring you tonight,’ I said as we reached the row of food vans. ‘Could your mum not come?’
The boy looked at me blankly, that way kids do when they’re a bit shy, and turned his attention back to the explosions in the sky.
I tried another tack.
‘Does he look after you often?’
‘Look after me?’ he asked, like I was stupid.
He spoke with a mild Geordie twang, but apart from that, his accent was fairly neutral. Unplaceable almost.
‘What would you like?’ I asked once we were in the queue.
‘Are you Tommy’s girlfriend?’
‘Am I what? No, no. We’re friends.’
He cocked his head.
‘You talk funny.’
‘That’s because I’m not from round here. What about you? Where are you from?’
But his attention was elsewhere. We’d reached the front of the queue. I bought two hot dogs and handed one to the boy. He lifted it to his mouth and before he took a bite, we shared a smile. I was the first to look away.
I’d been so close to giving up, so close to accepting defeat. What if I had? What would have happened to the child then?
I looked back up the hill to where Keith, Tommy, Kimberley and Jake stood laughing and taking pictures of each other on their phones. They looked like any other happy family, here to celebrate Guy Fawkes. It was no wonder Kimberley seemed familiar. I had, after all, spent hours studying her features. Or, rather, those of her mother.
The fourth photofit. The woman with frizzy hair, snub nose and small, round eyes. Despite multiple witnesses remembering seeing her around and about the flats that day, this woman had never come forward to rule herself out of police enquiries. The likeness to Kimberley was unmistakable. Mother and daughter.
Now I had all the pieces, it was easy to put them together.
Tommy had told me that Keith’s sister, Jenny, had been in an abusive relationship. He’d said that, when she refused to leave her husband, Kimberley and Jake had been taken into care for a period of time. That it had, understandably, left Jenny messed up. Then that night in the alley, her ex-husband had mentioned only two children to Keith: a son and a daughter. Jake and Kimberley.
I could only guess at the detail of what happened that day at the flats, but it seemed most likely that Jenny had been there. Taking Barney had been opportunistic. Presumably, to replace the children she missed so terribly.
It was circumstantial. I’d need to see Jenny to be certain. But my theory made sense, I was sure of it. All I needed was proof.
The boy finished the last of his hot dog and wiped at the smears of ketchup around his mouth. I looked at the top of his head, his thick blond hair. The same sandy yellow I woke up next to every morning.
I waited until the next squeal of fireworks and then, just as the rocket exploded into the heavens, I reached forward and tugged out a few strands.
He yelped and spun round.
‘Ow!’ He rubbed the spot I’d just scalped. ‘What did you do?’ he asked, and then, less certain and searching behind me for another culprit to blame, ‘What did you do?’