Like This, for Ever

eyes. She felt Mark move her to one side and knew it was about to arrive. She heard Anderson telling Richmond to go and wait below if she wanted to and Richmond refusing to move. She heard the clink of metal that told her someone – Cook or Mark – had unfastened the line. Then the engine firing up. She opened her eyes and saw Finn Turner still watching her. He was trying to tell her something and knew he couldn’t use the radio.
    ‘Wait,’ she said. ‘Fred, hold up. Get him inside.’
    ‘Dana, we have to get him back to Wapping,’ said Mark.
    ‘Get him in the cabin,’ she repeated. Mark and Cook shared alook, but Mark crouched down and lifted the child. Before he’d even straightened up, he’d looked at her in surprise.
    ‘Inside,’ she repeated, her heart thundering, a voice in her head telling her something she didn’t dare listen to.
    This time no one questioned her. They watched Mark leave the deck and carry the black bag into the cabin. One by one they followed.
    ‘David, do you have a knife?’ asked Dana.
    Silently, Cook handed one over and she dropped to her knees. The bag wasn’t the glossy black she’d expected. It was dull, dirty, spattered with bird droppings. ‘We have another bag on board, don’t we?’ she asked. Now that it came to it, she was almost afraid.
    ‘Of course,’ said Cook.
    Dana reached out and pressed the knife tip into the plastic. It was heavy duty, thicker than a normal bin-liner, but the blade sliced through it easily. She made a ten-inch cut and pulled the plastic apart. That was enough.
    Inside the bag were two pillows, wrapped tightly together with tape, and a dead fox.
    ‘Ten-year-old boys weigh a lot more than that,’ said Mark. ‘Turner knew before he lowered it down to us. And that bag’s filthy. It’s even got some sort of weed growing on it. It wasn’t left up there tonight.’
    ‘I knew it, I bloody knew it,’ gasped Richmond. Out of the corner of her eye, Dana thought she saw the profiler strike Anderson on the shoulder. He, in turn, seemed to shrink as the tension left him. ‘You have no idea how glad I am to be wrong,’ he replied.
    Later, Dana was to think that the sight of Susan Richmond sobbing on Neil Anderson’s shoulder was not the least surprising event of the evening.

47
    ‘ I WOULDN’T HAVE believed telling parents their child might still be alive would be harder than telling them he’s dead,’ said Dana, an hour later. She and Susan Richmond had just arrived at an all-night café in Lewisham, a regular haunt of the team when they’d been working late. Mark, Anderson and Mizon were all waiting for them.
    Without being asked, the young owner, a Greek Cypriot called Kristos, whom Dana sometimes thought could make a fortune selling information on police investigations to the national press, put mugs of instant coffee and warm bacon sandwiches in front of them.
    ‘How are they holding up?’ Mizon asked.
    ‘Barely,’ said Dana. ‘They understand why we want to hold back the information of what we really found on the bridge tonight. And they’ve agreed to say nothing publicly until we make our statement tomorrow. Not that I’m taking any chances. The family liaison officer will stay with them overnight, with a uniformed presence outside their house to keep reporters at bay.’
    ‘We won’t be able to hold them off for long,’ said Anderson.
    ‘I know. The guv’s agreed to a media blackout until at least noon tomorrow. Some time in the morning, Scotland Yard press office will send over a draft statement for our approval. I’ve also spoken to Mike Kaytes. He’s the pathologist at St Thomas’s we use most ofthe time,’ she explained to Susan. ‘He’s happy to go along with us. You know Mike, I think he’s secretly enjoying the intrigue.’
    ‘You realize the parents will be starting to hope again?’ said Richmond.
    Dana nodded. ‘They almost seemed disappointed when we told them we hadn’t found Oliver on the bridge,’ she said. ‘But I suppose it’s easy to judge when you have no idea what people are going through.’
    ‘It’s a very common reaction,’ said Richmond. ‘They want the worst to be over so they can begin to deal with it. People in their situation always say not knowing is the worst. That’s until they do know, of course, and then they’d give anything to have that tiny bit of hope back.’
    ‘Is there hope?’ said Mizon. ‘Is there any chance we might find Oliver alive?’
    ‘I’d