Stolen
Page 6
‘Are you okay?’ she asked.
Paul turned and pulled her towards him and they fell into each other. Abby dug her fingers into his back, clinging on to him for dear life. He rocked back and forth. ‘She’ll be okay, Abby. She’ll be okay.’
Abby held onto him and cried into his shoulder, knowing it could be the last time she’d be this close to him. How she had ever been so stupid to risk what they had? Maybe if she’d told him from the start they could’ve worked things out. But now? Not now. He’d blame her for Beth. And maybe he’d be right.
Abby wiped her face and turned so that one cheek rested on his shoulder. ‘What did they ask you?’
Paul seemed to be lost in his own thoughts, staring straight ahead.
‘Paul?’
He sighed. ‘He asked where I was this morning, if I knew anyone who’d want to hurt you or take Beth. How long I’d known Jen.’ He shook his head. ‘They’re even checking the CCTV from the shop to make sure I was really there.’
Abby nodded, feeling gratitude to Gardner. He hadn’t told him. Paul pushed Abby’s hair from her face. ‘Does it hurt?’ he asked as his fingers traced the bruises on her cheek.
Abby shook her head but tears formed in her eyes. ‘I’m okay.’ She reached up and brushed her fingers across his face. ‘I’m okay.’
For a moment he looked at her, unspeaking, and Abby wondered if he knew; if Gardner had said something or if he had come to his own conclusion. Or whether he just blamed her for losing their daughter. In that split second she contemplated coming clean, telling him everything. Then Paul bent down to her and took her face in his hands. Leaning his forehead against hers he closed his eyes.
‘We’ll get through this Abby. I promise. We’ll be okay. Beth will be okay.’ Abby nodded but her chest ached. She didn’t know if she could make herself believe him.
Chapter Thirteen
Gardner blew out a breath and slumped back in his chair. He now had confirmation that Simon Abbott had in fact boarded a plane in Manchester to New Zealand via Dubai and Brisbane shortly before nine that morning. Of course that didn’t rule him out completely; he could’ve been involved. Unfortunately his flight status meant that getting hold of him was impossible for the time being and Gardner’s best lead was at a standstill.
He wanted to speak to Abby again, get more details on her and Abbott’s relationship, but that could wait until the morning. He’d made a start looking into the Henshaws’ lives. Their finances, their family and friends, their work, their marriage, phone records. He was working on getting hold of the CCTV from the doctor’s surgery, to see if anything, or anyone stood out. He’d dispatched officers to speak to the Henshaws’ neighbours, partly to see if they’d seen anyone or any white vans hanging around, and partly to find out what the Henshaws were really like. So far all reports he’d had back were that they were nice. A lovely couple. So cute. The baby was adorable. None of it useful. He’d got the ball rolling on their finances. The fact that both of them had consented to him accessing their accounts made him think he wouldn’t find anything, but he still had to check. As much as he hated to say it, it wouldn’t be the first time a family struggling financially had used their kid as a way to earn a bit of cash. Though Paul had insisted the bookshop was fine, Gardner couldn’t imagine it was that good. Not these days. He’d be surprised if the Henshaws were involved in the disappearance of Beth but he’d learned a long time ago that you could always be surprised in this job. You never knew for sure. What bothered him most in that scenario was the attack on Abby. Even if you were going for authenticity, that was overkill. He’d make sure he checked every avenue but he doubted this was about paying the Henshaws’ mortgage.
Dozens of officers were now involved in the search and he was working to get more. They’d checked the few local houses and the pub but no one saw a thing. So far there’d been nothing on the van or the two men. The lack of registration number made it tricky. And he doubted that the men would’ve hung around. They were long gone.
What bothered him was the fact that the men took Abby and left Beth. If this was about kidnapping, why take Abby and leave Beth behind? Why not hurt Abby there and take the baby and disappear? Probably because Abby would’ve called for help immediately, one way or another. But if the baby was what they were really after, then why the rape? Why go to such extremes? And the fact they didn’t cover their faces, didn’t make any attempt to hide trace evidence. Other than taking Abby’s clothes, of course. But even an idiot must’ve known that was pointless. That was more about power than actually trying to get away with anything.
Earlier on he thought maybe the attack was the primary goal and that Beth was incidental. Possibly a random attack, possibly not. He’d checked for any other reports of rapes or attempted rapes in the area or by two men in a van but nothing had come up.
Abby couldn’t say for sure how long she was in that van, how long she was away from Beth. Maybe someone had seen her at the side of the road and taken her for her own good. He’d hoped that was true. It seemed possible a few hours ago. But now? She would’ve been brought back by now. That Beth was still missing wasn’t right.
But then none of this was right. And Gardner felt stuck, like he was treading water. He was itching to speak to Simon Abbott and then maybe he’d have some answers.
Abby sat curled up on the hard plastic chair, her head against the wall, her eyes closed. Paul sat beside her staring into space as Gardner entered, closing the door quietly behind him. Abby opened her eyes and jumped out of the chair. Paul slowly stood.
‘Have you found her?’ Abby asked.
Gardner shook his head and watched as Abby deflated. ‘There’s something I want you both to take a look at,’ Gardner said. ‘We have some CCTV footage of the doctor’s surgery from this morning. If you could take a look, see if anyone sticks out, anyone you know or have seen before.’ He led them into a room where a TV was set up. Abby and Paul stood in front of it and Gardner pressed play.
Abby watched the scene in front of her; saw herself walking into the waiting room with Beth. She felt a tug and wondered if she’d be allowed to keep the video. A souvenir of the last few hours she had with her daughter. She could see Gardner watching her from the corner of her eye. She recalled the people from earlier that day – the rude receptionist, the woman who’d been sat behind her pulling faces, and an elderly couple she hadn’t noticed while she was there. She let out a breath. What was she expecting? That those men would’ve been sat there, waiting for her?
Beside her Paul shifted and Gardner pressed pause. ‘You recognise someone?’ he asked and Abby looked at her husband. For a moment he just stared at the screen and Abby looked back at the frozen frame trying to see what he could see.
‘No,’ Paul said and looked from Abby to Gardner. He stepped forward and pointed at the screen. ‘That man,’ he said, pointing to the man with crutches. ‘I thought I recognised him. But no. Sorry,’ he said.
Gardner let the tape run until a few minutes after Abby left the doctor’s. ‘I checked footage from outside the surgery. No one follows you out,’ he said and turned the TV off.
‘What now?’ Abby said.
Gardner indicated for them to take seats again and he pulled another chair around in front of them. ‘There’ve been no reports of a baby being found; no one has taken her into a hospital or police station. We’re going to do an appeal. We’re looking for witnesses who may have seen Beth and also the men in the van.’
‘So you don’t think someone took her for her own safety anymore?’ Paul said.
Gardner paused, considering his words. ‘It’s still a possibility. We’re going to use that as the basis of the appeal. Like I say, it’s possible someone took her and thought they were doing what’s best for her. But, it’s also a possibility that someone took her deliberately, and that the attack on Abby was planned as par
t of it. As there hasn’t been any kind of contact or ransom demand we have to assume that whoever took Beth took her because they planned to keep her.
‘That said, if we appeal to them, show them that Beth has a family, a good family. Show them the consequences of what they’ve done, use her name and yours, make the situation real to them; there is a possibility that they will return her. At this point we’re appealing for witnesses as much as to the person who took Beth.
‘We need you, both of you, to appear on camera. Someone will talk you through it beforehand, but if either of you want to make a statement yourselves we can go through that with you.’ He looked at them both. ‘It’s up to you if you want to speak.’
Abby and Paul searched each other’s faces for the right answer. ‘Does it matter?’ Paul asked. ‘I mean does it make a difference. Will they be more likely to bring her back if we say something?’
Gardner rubbed his chin. ‘To be honest, I don’t know. I know that having you there on-screen helps. But if you do decide to say something, you need to work it out with us first. Depending on the person who has Beth, depending on the reason they took her... you have to choose your words carefully.’ Abby went to speak but Gardner put his hand up. ‘I know Beth is your baby, and you just want her home and that’s the only real message you want to send to this person but if this person took her for a specific reason, say they thought you weren’t good enough for Beth,’ Gardner said, ‘or they think they deserve her for whatever reason. You have to be very careful not to make this person angry, make sure you don’t reinforce something they already believe.’
‘But how do we know what they believe if we don’t know who they are?’ Paul asked.
‘That’s why we keep it general. Show them that you’re hurting, that there are consequences to their actions. Show them you’re good parents. And just ask them to bring Beth back. Don’t make any judgements about them, don’t say they’re a bad person or that they’re hurting Beth.’
Abby glanced at Gardner before looking down at the floor. ‘What if they are?’
Chapter Fourteen
‘Where are we?’ DCI Atherton asked the room from his place by the window. He stood with his hands behind his back like a character from Trumpton. Gardner had never seen him sit down. He didn’t know why. Maybe it was an authority thing, maybe so he’d always be ready to move. Maybe it was piles.
Gardner stood up and wished he’d had something other than coffee in the last twenty-four hours. ‘Abby Henshaw, thirty-one, her car was forced off the road,’ he said.
‘I know this,’ Atherton said. ‘We all know this. What I asked was where are we? Meaning what have you done since yesterday and where has it got us?’
Everyone turned to Gardner. Atherton raised his eyebrows and left them hanging while Gardner counted to ten. Atherton was a pain in the arse. He had the people he liked and the people he didn’t and a way of making those he didn’t feel like they were idiots. It just so happened Gardner was in the latter group. Atherton knew what happened in Blyth, but if that was why he hated him, who knew? Atherton made judgements about people for all kinds of reasons – where you were from, where you were educated, what kind of shoes you wore. What happened up there had never been mentioned since he moved down the coast to Middlesbrough but the silence didn’t mean anything. He knew people talked about it behind his back. Gossip had a way of following you around. It didn’t matter that it’d been almost ten years. Gardner wasn’t likely to forget about it, why would anyone else?
He got to ten and looked Atherton in the eye.
‘A search of the area produced nothing. Nothing useful anyway. The only blood at the scene was from the victim. I’m expecting results this morning regarding the semen taken from the examination but I’m not holding my breath that we’ll get a match from anyone in the system. Despite the fact our guy made a point of holding onto the victim’s clothes, I seriously doubt he’s unaware we’d get trace evidence from her. Not unless he’s a complete idiot. So I’m assuming he either knows there’ll be no matches or he just doesn’t care.
‘We have nothing on the van except a colour and a vague description. No licence plate so an APA is going to be fruitless. The location produced little in the way of witnesses. The pub and businesses in Loftus gave us nothing, same with the few houses along the stretch of road. Mrs Henshaw gave us a description of the men who attacked her. We’ve shown the sketch around, so far it hasn’t sparked anything but we’ll keep trying. The teams will continue the search this morning including inside properties around the area. We’ve issued an All Ports Warning and alerted all police forces to be on the lookout but-’
‘But all babies look the bloody same so we’ve got no chance,’ Murphy said and raised a few sniggers.
Gardner ignored the comment but couldn’t help but think the idiot had a point. To most people one baby looked the same as every other baby. They’d be inundated with sightings of every single baby in the region, if not the whole country.
‘We’re looking into the Henshaws’ finances. They gave consent so it’s unlikely we’ll find anything of interest. I want to look at Simon Abbott too but as he’s God knows where at present, consent isn’t happening.’
‘Court order?’ Murphy asked.
Gardner shook his head. ‘Not yet. If Abbott refuses or if we don’t get hold of him soon then we’ll take it to a magistrates but we don’t have enough yet.’
Gardner continued but could see Atherton starting to sway. Every so often one of the team piped up and Gardner couldn’t help but notice Atherton seemed more interested in what they had to say. Even Murphy.
‘So,’ Atherton said when he’d finished, ‘basically what we have is absolutely nothing. And when I go down there to brief the media I’ll have to tell them we have absolutely nothing?’
‘We’ve got the appeal which is nationwide,’ Gardner said.
‘Anything come out of that?’
Gardner shook his head. He knew what Atherton was getting at. Although appeals often produced results in some form or another by digging up witnesses and refreshing memories, they were often used as a tool to pile pressure on the family and friends of victims who were potential suspects. It often worked but Gardner couldn’t help feeling it was a cynical ploy, especially when those family members were innocent.
‘We’re looking into several angles, including child trafficking,’ Gardner said. ‘We’re liaising with Interpol regarding any known trans-border gangs.’
‘Good,’ Atherton said. ‘Is that it?’
‘One more thing,’ Gardner said as people started moving. ‘As you should all know, the details of Mrs Henshaw’s attack have not been released. She’s requested that the rape not be made known to the media. So far it’s been kept under wraps, let’s keep it that way.’
‘Right, people, let’s get on with it. And let’s try to actually get something done today.’
Gardner turned away from Atherton and found Lawton staring at him. She gave him a smile that made him feel worse.
‘Cartwright,’ he heard Atherton say behind him. ‘Good work.’
‘Thank you, sir,’ Cartwright said and Gardner tried to walk faster but the stairs were clogged with people making their way out of the briefing. ‘I just wish I could’ve done a bit more. I’d like the opportunity to lead an interview. Or at least sit in. But it wasn’t possible yesterday.’
‘Well, we’ll see what we can do about it.’
‘Thank you, sir.’
As Gardner turned on the stairs Cartwright caught his eye and grinned. Little prick. If he sucked up any harder he could quit his job with the police and start his own vacuuming business.
‘So I’ll see you tomorrow night then,’ Atherton said to Cartwright over his shoulder.
‘Wouldn’t miss it, sir. The big five-oh.’
Gardner t
ried to swallow down the bile he felt creeping up his throat. It was probably just the coffee.
Chapter Fifteen
Abby looked down at Beth’s empty crib. She held the small, pink fleece blanket against her face, letting the tears soak into the fluffy fabric. She sensed Paul was behind her but didn’t turn. He stood a few feet away, trying to decide what to do.
‘Maybe you should lie down, Ab, try and get some rest,’ he said.
Abby kept her face pressed hard into the blanket. She hadn’t slept at all after coming home from the police station. They’d arrived home to pitiful glances from neighbours and some flowers on the doorstep that reminded Abby of when her parents died. But no one was dead this time. She couldn’t be.
After standing by Beth’s crib for a few hours, Paul had led her into the bedroom and made her lie down in his arms. Sometime around three he had fallen asleep. Abby felt a combination of jealousy and outrage. Part of her wished she could sleep too. That if she slept long enough she’d wake to find everything back to normal. The other part, the larger part, felt anger at him for being able to sleep while Beth was out there somewhere with a stranger. At around five she’d got up and made a cup of tea, which had been on the kitchen table all day.
Paul sat watching the TV, re-runs of the appeal. Abby couldn’t bear to watch it. She hadn’t even changed, she was still wearing the clothes she’d put on after being examined. A smart-looking woman had briefed them and Abby agreed to speak the words the woman had prepared for her. But as they filed into the room in front of the cameras and microphones, she couldn’t speak. Thoughts of the bastards that hurt her, that took Beth, coursed through her mind. She wanted to scream. She wanted to beg. She tried to focus on the words in front of her, determined to stick to the script. The words swam in and out of focus. Abby reached for her face to check she had her glasses on. Finding them where they should be she realised that the tears were the cause of the blur. She felt like she was reading underwater. Her daughter’s name came out of her mouth but it sounded wrong. She looked up into the bright lights of the cameras and tried to remember the words she was supposed to say. Under the desk she felt Paul’s hand on hers and then realised he was speaking. She looked down to the script and noticed it was gone.