Baby Love by Maureen Carter Read Free Book Online

ended up editing a redtop in Docklands. Not a bad background for dealing with the current barrage.
    “I’m not dodging the question, mate. I don’t have the answer.” Bernie poured water into a glass, glanced up and gave a tight smile. “Next.” He’d already given them the bare bones of the incident. There was no
meat to offer.
    The reporters now had a name and timings: when Zoë was last seen, when her absence was discovered. They’d been asked to go big on witness appeals and hot-line numbers for the public to ring. Someone, the cliché goes, must have seen
something. Bev reckoned they invariably had and it was usually Elvis galloping round the Bullring on Shergar. Whatever. Experienced officers would vet the calls, ditching the dross and the loony tunes. Other teams were already going through paedo
registers and child-porn sites. Still more were checking every crime, cold case or not, anywhere in the country, that bore the slightest resemblance to the taking of Baby Zoë.
    None of this satisfied the journos. The pack was after the mother. A harrowing tearful plea for the baby’s safe return was the story at this early stage. Bev knew the guv had thought long and hard but eventually vetoed all requests.
Saturation coverage was a given in the first day or so. When it began to flag, he could whisk Natalie from the wings and inject more impetus.
    She also knew – because he’d told her – that he hoped it wouldn’t come to that. There was another less palatable reason for not putting Natalie Beck out there for public consumption. A surly sixteen-year-old from a grotty
estate on the wrong side of town was a hell of a lot less appealing than a picture of her three-week-old baby.
    Being denied the star of the show wasn’t the only reason the press were hacked off. The guv had also quashed requests to be interviewed live on lunchtime news bulletins. Byford didn’t give a toss about journalists’ deadlines. Not
when he had one of his own. Bev knew the big man would happily do a turn – Christ, he’d cartwheel down New Street in the buff – if and when there was something worth saying. She watched him scribbling furiously into a notebook: ideas,
reminders, checks, passing notions. He’d carry the pad around, adding more lines as inspiration struck. It was another Byford habit. Not one to which Bev subscribed.
    “You’re already stretched with the rapes. Will you be getting in reinforcements?”
    Byford’s pen stopped mid-sentence. Bernie opened his mouth to speak but the guv was already there. “My officers are professionals. They’re dedicated men and women who’re coping brilliantly. If the situation changes I’ll
let you know.” His glance covered everyone in the room. “Just don’t hold your breath.”
    “Loyalty to the troops. That’s nice.” Mr Supercilious was on his feet this time. Tall, rake-thin, gold-framed glasses and lank hair scraped back in a tiny ponytail. Bev didn’t recognise him. “Do you have teenage
daughters, superintendent?” Instantly clear where he was coming from.
    “No, I don’t, Mr...?”
    “Squires. Colin. Sky News. I’ve been talking to last night’s rape victim. She’s warning girls and older women to stay off the streets.”
    “You can’t use it,” Bernie said. “You know the score on anonymity.”
    Squires flapped a hand. “She’s waived her rights.”
    “Who put her up to that?” Byford snapped.
    “Ask the mother. Not me.” The audience was riveted. Squires was enjoying the attention. “Point is, superintendent, are you adding your voice to the victim’s warning? Or are you confident you can guarantee the safety of every
woman on the streets of Birmingham – when most of your people are currently searching for a missing baby?”
    That was catch 22-and-a-half. While the guv worked on an answer that wouldn’t land him in it, the women’s editor of the Evening News threw in another question.
    “Are you aware of the mass street protest?”
    This