images of children, Mark − were only downloaded seconds before we entered your flat. And seeing as how you were the only person there, it kind of means you had to be the one who downloaded them – doesn’t it?’
‘Must have been a glitch, or maybe someone downloaded it remotely from somewhere else.’
‘On to your laptop?’
‘It’s possible.’
‘Not with your previous it’s not,’ Sean told him. ‘Are you aware of Bad Character Evidence? Have you discussed it with your solicitor?’ McKenzie shrugged while Jackson briefly looked up to shake her head. ‘It means if you rely on a story like that then we can tell the jury all about your previous convictions for downloading other, similar pornography, not to mention your convictions for sexually assaulting children. I really don’t think that’s going to help your cause.’
‘You can’t prove anything.’
‘By the time the specialists at our computer laboratory have examined that laptop, I’ll be able to prove plenty.’
‘If you say so.’
‘You’re going back inside, Mark.’
‘I don’t think so.’
McKenzie’s misplaced confidence was beginning to irritate him. ‘Well at least we’ve established one thing – that you’re a liar. A liar who, even when faced with the truth, still can’t be honest.’ McKenzie squirmed a little in his chair. ‘Everybody in this room knows you downloaded the child pornography yourself and everybody here knows you took the boy.’ Sally and Jackson now also shuffled uncomfortably in their chairs.
‘Like I said,’ McKenzie goaded him, ‘you can’t prove anything and you can’t save the boy. You’re too late.’
‘What do you mean?’ Sean asked, as calmly as he could. ‘What do you mean, I’m too late?’
‘That’s for me to know and you to find out.’
‘If you know something, you need to tell me.’
McKenzie’s foot tapped fast and repeatedly as his excitement grew. ‘I don’t have to tell you anything.’
Sean’s heart burnt with anger at McKenzie and fear for the missing boy, but he wouldn’t play McKenzie’s game any more – it was too easy for him to come up with sound-bite answers that might mean something or nothing. ‘Did it feel good?’ he began, ‘being alone in the street in the middle of the night? Quiet and cold, nothing but the sound of the leaves in the wind.’ McKenzie stopped tapping his foot and looked Sean in the eyes for almost the first time. ‘You’re good with locks, but it still must have taken a while to get the door open – were you scared someone would hear or see you, kneeling outside by the front door? It must have been difficult, working with gloves on, using those fine, small tools, but you had to wear them, because it was cold that night and you needed to stop your fingers from going numb, didn’t you?’ McKenzie squinted and frowned, his thin smile all but gone. ‘And when you finally stepped inside the house, the warmth hitting you in the face, the smell of the family must have been almost more than you could bear – did it make you feel dizzy, like you were having a dream?’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ McKenzie interrupted.
‘What did it feel like, Mark, climbing those stairs towards the boy’s room – walking past his mother’s bedroom while she slept – knowing you were going to take her baby?’ Jackson glanced at him, her face betraying that she had children herself, no matter how grown-up they may be now – her mother’s instinct stopping her from intervening even when she should. ‘Did it make you feel special, Mark? Special like you never feel in everyday life? Did it make you feel powerful?’
‘Guessing, guessing, guessing,’ McKenzie hissed. ‘All you’re doing is guessing.’
‘But why didn’t you touch the mother? Is it because you’re a coward? Because you were afraid of her – afraid to rape a grown woman in case she fought back?’
‘This is going too far, Inspector,’ Jackson finally interjected.
‘Which is why it has to be children for you, doesn’t it?’ Sean ignored her, his voice louder than before. ‘But why not the little girl? Is it only little boys that do it for you, Mark?’
‘I think that’s enough, Inspector,’ Jackson insisted, her voice matching his until McKenzie spoke over the top of both of them.
‘You think you’re so clever – the police,’ he spat at them. ‘Fuck the police. I have the power here – no one else. I say what happens. We play by my rules – no one else’s.’
‘You have the power, Mark? Your rules? You seem to be forgetting something.’
‘Yeah? And what would that be?
‘That we’ve already caught you.’
McKenzie looked shocked for a moment, but then his blank expression began to grow into a smile and the smile into a barely audible laugh. His laughter grew until it was as loud as it was mocking and all the time he stared into Sean’s eyes.
Sean was close to leaping across the interview table when his vibrating phone distracted him. ‘Fuck,’ he swore too loudly before remembering his every word was being recorded. He snatched the phone from his belt and examined the caller ID. ‘Sorry, but I need to take this. For the recording, DI Corrigan is leaving the room for a short while.’ He made sure the door was shut behind him before he answered. ‘Ashley, what you got?’
‘The Special Search Team and the dog have both been through the house,’ DC Goodwin told him.
‘And?’ Sean asked impatiently.
‘Nothing. The boy’s definitely not still in the house.’
‘They absolutely sure?’
‘Sorry, guv, but the boy’s gone, no doubt about it.’
‘Christ,’ Sean blasphemed. For all that he’d been convinced the boy had been taken, it was still a deeply disturbing jolt to have it confirmed. ‘What about a scent? Did the dog pick up on any scent?’
‘Sorry,’ Goodwin explained. ‘Too many people have been through the house too many times, including the boy. The dog followed his scent to the front door, but once in the street it didn’t know which way to turn.’
‘OK, Ash – and thanks. You might as well get the forensic team in now – see what they can find.’ He hung up, returned to the interview room and sat down heavily. ‘DI Corrigan re-entering the interview room.’
‘Everything all right?’ Sally asked.
‘Fine,’ Sean lied. ‘I’d just like to clear a few things up before we take a break.’
‘Such as?’ McKenzie asked, suspicious of Sean’s surprise exit and re-entry. He’d been interviewed enough times to know the police weren’t above an underhand trick or two to get a confession – especially from a convicted paedophile.
‘The house George Bridgeman was reported
