The Moment She Left

by Susan Lewis

  ‘I’m afraid they’re already sold,’ Blake told her, ‘but we can always look out for more.’

  ‘Yes, I think you should,’ she decided. ‘They’re just her type of thing. And this chaise longue is beautiful. I think she should have that too.’

  ‘Pamela? What’s going on?’ Graeme asked firmly.

  Wide-eyed, she said, ‘Going on? In what way?’

  ‘All these gifts. No one has a birthday, and Christmas is still a long way off.’

  ‘I’m just feeling generous, that’s all. I hope it’s allowed.’

  ‘Of course. It’s just . . . unusual.’

  ‘For me, you mean. Well, I’ve decided to change. Life’s too short to stay cross all the time, or to go on beating about the bush when something needs to be said. On which subject, what are you doing about Andee?’

  Taken aback, he said, ‘What kind of question is that?’

  ‘A direct one. We all know you two had something going a while ago, and she’s single again now so . . .’

  ‘That’s enough,’ he cut in sharply. ‘You might have given up being cross, but I see bossy is still featuring large.’

  Pamela was about to respond when the door opened behind her and Frankie, the post lady, came in with the mail.

  ‘Recorded delivery for you,’ she told Blake, while handing the rest of the envelopes and magazines to Graeme.

  As Blake took the large package addressed to him, Graeme saw him look curiously at the brown-paper wrapping tied up with string.

  ‘What is it?’ Pamela prompted, seeming to sense some kind of change in the atmosphere.

  ‘There’s only one way to find out,’ Blake replied, and cutting the string, he tore open the wrapping to find a large shoebox inside. As he removed the lid his face turned white with shock.

  ‘Oh my goodness,’ Pamela murmured. ‘Is it real?’

  Blake looked at Graeme who looked at him.

  ‘Who’s it from?’ Graeme asked.

  ‘I’ve no idea,’ Blake replied, searching for a card or a note.

  ‘How much is there?’ Pamela asked.

  Blake looked at Graeme again.

  ‘I’ll call Andee,’ Graeme said, and picking up the phone he pressed in her mobile number.

  ‘Are you sure you’ll be all right here?’ Andee was asking Rowzee as she settled her down on the terrace of Dittisham’s Anchor Stone café. It was right next to the wonderfully romantic River Dart with plenty of boats and people going by, so full of life, but not so busy as to make it a disconcerting place to be.

  ‘I’ll be fine,’ Rowzee promised. ‘I just need to have a little time to myself, that’s all, and if Jenny doesn’t know I’m with you she won’t be expecting me to come in.’

  Though relieved at being able to see Jenny Leonard alone, Andee couldn’t help being concerned about Rowzee, for the visit to Victor’s son had clearly shaken her up quite a lot.

  ‘I shouldn’t be long,’ she said, ‘then I think we should head home.’

  ‘Oh no,’ Rowzee protested. ‘Gina’s expecting us and I’m so looking forward to seeing her. Please don’t let’s change our plans.’

  Andee regarded her carefully. ‘OK, let’s see how you feel when I get back.’

  A few minutes later she was driving back up the hill to the village’s main car park when Graeme rang. Instead of asking about Rowzee, which was what she’d expected, he said, ‘Blake’s just received a parcel containing a shoebox full of cash. We haven’t counted it yet, but it has to amount to several tens of thousands of pounds.’

  Stunned, she said, ‘Who’s it from?’

  ‘We’ve no idea. There’s no sender address, or accompanying note.’

  Trying and failing to connect this to the discovery of a rental in Holland Park, she said, ‘OK, if you haven’t done it already you should call Leo Johnson at the station. Is Blake with you?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I’m about to go and see Jenny. Does he want me to mention this?’

  After consulting Blake, Graeme said, ‘He’d rather you didn’t for now.’

  ‘OK. Understood. I should tell you,’ she went on, ‘that the police in London have found a house in Holland Park that was rented to someone by the name of Yoder at the time Jessica disappeared.’

  There was a moment’s shocked silence before Graeme said, ‘So there was an oversight?’

  ‘It would appear so, because the letting agent was easy to find. I’ve no idea yet why she didn’t come forward at the time, but I’m hoping to know more by the end of the day. Perhaps you could pass this on to Blake.’

  ‘Of course. Before you go . . . Pamela and I are wondering how Rowzee is? Has she met Norma Griffiths yet?’

  ‘Yes, she has, and I think she’s OK, but I have to tell you that seeing Victor’s son came as a shock to us both. It turns out he’s not just unwell, as Jason put it; the accident he told us about has left his father completely incapacitated. It’s impossible to know how compos mentis he is, but there really doesn’t seem to be much going on there.’

  ‘Oh God, this is awful. Not what Rowzee would have been expecting at all.’

  ‘He’s being very well cared for, but seeing someone like that . . . I don’t mind admitting it’s shaken me up a bit too. It’s so sad, not only for him but for his family. They don’t have proper lives any more, which is a tragedy for Jason, being as young as he is. Anyway, I’m sure Rowzee will call you soon to tell you about it. Needless to say she wants to help in some way.’

  ‘I’m sure she does. You’re not with her now?’

  ‘I’ve left her having a cup of tea while I go and see Jenny Leonard. I’m sorry, but I need to ring off now. If Rowzee can’t contact you because she’s in a bad reception area I’ll get her to call when we’re on our way to Gina’s.’

  After ringing off, she found a space in the main car park and made the connection to Leo Johnson as she walked back along the Level to the address Blake had given her for Jenny’s parents. ‘You should get a call any minute from Graeme Ogilvie or Blake Leonard,’ she told Johnson. ‘Apparently a box full of cash has turned up addressed to Blake. No sender address or accompanying note.’

  ‘Surreal,’ he murmured. ‘I’ll go over there myself as soon as I get the call. Any theories on what it’s about?’

  ‘None, at this stage, and I don’t think Blake has any either. So what’s happening in London?’

  ‘Good question. Your daughter’s definitely set the cat amongst the pigeons with her findings. I haven’t spoken to anyone personally, but DI Gould has and apparently they’re furious that we’ve managed to find out about the rental, which they discovered three days ago, apparently.’

  ‘As a result of you requesting rental information from the initial investigation?’

  ‘You requested it, and it’s a bit much to be a coincidence.’

  ‘So more likely an oversight than a cover-up?’

  ‘No straight answer to that yet, but I’m told a forensic team has been going over the place for the past two days. Too early yet to know if Jessica was there, and with the amount of time that’s passed . . .’

  ‘Is anyone living there now?’

  ‘I don’t know. Information’s still scant, but we’re working on it.’

  Marvelling at this turn of events, she said, ‘A few phone calls was all it took.’

  ‘So I hear. Tell Alayna from me that she did good. And it’s making Gould’s day to think of you as part of the team again.’

  With a wry smile, she said, ‘Just as long as he doesn’t get any ideas that it’s going to be permanent,’ and ending the call she sent a quick text to Alayna saying, Leo says you did good today, I say you did brilliantly. Please let’s talk again soon. I think I’m starting to see the bigger picture.

  Charles had been afraid, terrified, something like this would happen when he returned to Burlingford Hall, yet he’d come all the same. It was as though a macabre compulsion had forced him, and was now holding him here like a prisoner
inside his own conscience. He was being mercilessly haunted by the woman’s face that would appear out of nowhere, confronting him as he looked from a window, or glanced in a mirror, or turned suddenly at an unexpected sound. He saw it on the horizon, in the gardens, on the stairs, and in his dreams. She stared at him in fear and shock, trapped, unable to move. He saw so many expressions that couldn’t be real, only gruesome figments of his imagination. Who was she? How had she come to be there that night? Where was she now? How could he find her?

  He was standing at an upstairs window of the Hall, staring blindly across the open fields at the back of the estate towards the ruggedly steep rise of the moor in the distance. It was even further than it appeared from here, two miles or more, with dense woods, streams, swamps, massive swathes of brambles, ancient rocks and overgrown trails all hidden from view. There was even a road that curved around the upper slopes of the hillside to descend, eventually, towards the coast. Did anyone ever use it? He wouldn’t know by looking from here.

  An email had arrived earlier from his daughter, Lydia, updating him on the progress she and her team were achieving in their fight to help Syrian refugees. She was flying to somewhere in Eastern Europe sometime in the next few weeks, apparently. Meanwhile she’d been invited to the White House, though she hadn’t said whether she’d accepted this extraordinary honour, or when it was supposed to be happening. Knowing Lydia, if it coincided with her trip to Europe she’d put the refugees first – self-glory, once-in-a-lifetime photo-ops and the chance of a massively impressive name-drop in the future would carry no weight with her. The invitation’s only significance for her would be the power of the contact and what use it might be put to, for she was as dedicated to her work as any terrified exile would be to safety and freedom.

  It felt like a slow, terrible crucifixion of his soul every time he thought of her, for it wasn’t possible to picture her and feel a surge of fatherly pride without thinking of Jessica Leonard and what she had meant to her father. He wished with all his heart that he had the courage to end Blake’s suffering. He could feel the man’s helplessness and grief as he imagined Lydia moving inexorably away from him, disappearing from his reach to a place he couldn’t go, where he would never be able to find her, as Jessica had moved away from her own father and still no one had found her.

  Andee could see from the paintings on the wall of a much younger Jenny Leonard as Modigliani’s Young Woman in a Shirt, and Picasso’s Nude Seated in a Chair, that she had always been a fragile-looking woman with a delicate physique and ashen pallor, and she was perhaps even more so now. Still, Andee suspected that today was one of her better days as she focused her large, doe-like eyes on Andee’s each time Andee spoke, as though not wanting to miss a word or misunderstand a meaning.

  So far, as they’d sat there in Jenny’s parents’ best room, as they called it, sipping tea and only barely aware of the place becoming darker as clouds drew in, Jenny had told Andee nothing that Andee hadn’t already read in the police files. Like Blake and Matt she’d expected Jessica home that day in time to join them for dinner. She’d received no texts or calls to warn her of a delay or change of plan, nor could she throw a single glimmer of light on what might have caused her daughter to go to Notting Hill Gate station instead of Paddington.

  Mindful of the rented house in Holland Park, Andee said, ‘Are you sure she didn’t have any friends in that area, perhaps someone new she’d only mentioned in passing?’

  Though Jenny clearly gave it some thought she was already shaking her head. ‘I promise, I’d have told the police if anyone had come to mind, but no one did.’

  Since there was no record of Jessica performing a gig in Holland Park, or of an upcoming booking, Andee said, ‘As you know she was very well paid for her performances, so I’m guessing she was intending to continue with them when she returned to uni in the autumn?’

  ‘I’m sure that was her plan,’ Jenny replied. ‘She loved to sing, and as you said, she was earning very well from it. It concerned us though that this might be getting in the way of her studies. Blake reminded her of that when she was home during Easter. He told her we were happy to help top up her student loan, but she said she was able to take care of it herself.’

  ‘Did she say how?’

  Jenny shook her head. ‘We presumed she was going to continue gigging – she was very strong-willed – but we were intending to talk to her again when she came back for the summer.’

  Andee said, carefully, ‘Her friend Sadie is certain that Jessica was intending to flat-share with her and some other friends when she went back in October. Did Jessica talk to you about that?’

  ‘We knew they’d been to see somewhere and were hopeful of getting it, but we didn’t hear until after that their application had been successful.’

  ‘It was an expensive rent and the other girls all come from wealthy families . . . I know you’ve been asked this before, but I’m afraid I have to ask it again, do you think Jessica had found someone to take care of her financial needs?’

  Jenny’s eyes drifted as she replied, ‘Of course we’ve considered it, but the police haven’t found anyone. They even tried the websites that set students up with people who do those things, but there was no trace of her on any of them.’

  Already knowing that, Andee said, ‘And the name Kim Yoder means nothing to you?’

  ‘I’d never heard it before she disappeared, and as far as I’m aware the police think it’s a false name anyway.’

  Wondering if Jessica had known that and gone along with it, or if she’d been misled, even tricked, into trusting someone who’d had only evil in mind, Andee waited for Jenny to continue.

  ‘Like every mother I want to think the best of my daughter, but when something like this happens . . . So many terrible thoughts go through your mind . . . I know Blake thinks them too. You can’t help it. I know you’re thinking them, because it’s your job to, and I don’t blame you, I just wish you could have known her . . . More than that I wish you could give us some answers, no matter how terrible they might be, because they’d be so much better than no answers at all.’

  Understanding completely, Andee said, ‘I promise you, I’m doing my best to find her, but if you and I are sharing the same sort of thoughts you’ll know how vital it is that you tell me anything and everything you can, no matter how irrelevant or even shameful it might seem to you.’

  Jenny looked away as she nodded. ‘I swear I’ve told you everything I know, but I can’t stop thinking about all the rich foreigners at those gigs. Maybe she got herself into something she didn’t understand . . . They could have taken her out of the country and if they have, the chances are we’ll never find her.’

  Andee said, ‘There’s no record of her leaving the country, but . . .’

  ‘There wouldn’t be if someone took her on a private yacht, or aeroplane.’ As tears welled in her eyes she put a hand to her head. ‘This torture of guessing, the never-ending nightmare of where she might be, who might be hurting her, is she even alive . . . It’s impossible to live with, and it doesn’t get any easier with time. If anything it gets worse.’

  ‘I know,’ Andee said softly.

  ‘It’s made me hate myself in ways I can’t even begin to admit to anyone. I’m not strong enough to cope with it and I just make things worse for Blake and Matt, that’s why I’m here. I love them so much, but I can’t stand to see their suffering so I’ve run away from them, and now I can’t find the courage to go back.’

  Feeling desperately sorry for her, Andee only wished she could tell her they might be on the verge of a breakthrough, but it would be cruel to raise her hopes until she, Andee, knew exactly what was happening in London. So all she said was, ‘I want to find her, Jenny, I really do, so please don’t think we’ve given up on her yet, because we haven’t.’

  Shock had hit Blake so hard as he’d come into the kitchen that even now, as much as a minute later, he was still experiencing a rapid beat in his heart. He couldn’
t imagine why he’d thought this girl was Jessica when she looked nothing like her; for a start she was blonde where Jess was dark, and the facial features, pretty as they were, could hardly be more different to his daughter’s. It must have been her age, and how desperate he was to walk in one day to find his angel waiting.

  ‘Dad, this is Ellie,’ Matt had told him, and the words were still ringing in Blake’s ears in spite of the fact that many more had been spoken since.

  ‘What’s up?’ Matt asked, and Blake’s eyes flew to his son’s. ‘Something’s happened,’ Matt accused, his voice tripping with alarm.

  Blake shook his head.

  ‘Dad! What is it? You have to tell me.’

  Ellie got to her feet. ‘I should probably go.’

  Matt didn’t stop her, only went to the door with her and Blake heard him promising to call.

  ‘So what is it?’ Matt demanded, coming back to the kitchen.

  ‘I received some money today,’ Blake told him. ‘It turned up in a parcel.’

  ‘What? I don’t understand.’

  ‘There was almost a hundred thousand pounds in cash, in a shoebox, addressed to me.’

  Matt stared at him, dumbfounded.

  ‘The police have it now,’ Blake continued.

  ‘But where did it come from?’

  ‘That’s what they’re trying to find out.’

  Matt’s eyes were wide with shock as his mind went into overdrive. ‘Do – do they think it’s connected to Jess in some way?’ he asked incredulously.

  ‘No one knows what to think yet.’

  Matt suddenly threw out his hands in anger. ‘What the hell?’ he growled, clasping his fists to his head. ‘Is some sick bastard playing mind games? Is that what’s happening here?’