Stolen

by Rebecca Muddiman

  ‘It’s about that woman and the baby, isn’t it? I saw the news,’ she said, moving to stand by the sink. ‘I wondered if I should call the police but I didn’t want to waste anyone’s time.’

  ‘How do you mean?’ Cartwright asked, taking his notebook from his pocket.

  ‘Well, I saw her. At the surgery. I didn’t know if you’d need to know about it.’

  ‘Did you see anything? Did you speak to Mrs Henshaw?’

  ‘No,’ Helen said. ‘We didn’t speak.’

  ‘And you don’t know her?’

  ‘No,’ Helen said. ‘I’ve never met her before.’

  ‘Did you see anyone else at the surgery, in the waiting room or outside? Anyone who seemed like they shouldn’t be there?’

  Helen shook her head. ‘No, sorry.’

  ‘What about a white van?’

  Helen shook her head again and PC Cartwright nodded. ‘What about when you left? Did you see Mrs Henshaw then? Was she with anyone?’

  ‘I didn’t see her leave,’ Helen said. ‘I went in to see the nurse and when I left I don’t recall seeing her again. I don’t think she was in the waiting room but I wouldn’t swear to it.’

  ‘Okay, Ms Deal. That should do it,’ Cartwright said, walking to the door. ‘If you think of anything, please don’t hesitate to get in touch. Sorry to have disturbed you.’

  ‘I’m just sorry I couldn’t help,’ Helen said.

  Helen watched the officer walk across the street to his car. She waited until he was driving away before she closed the door. She went back into the living room and stared down at her daughter, fast asleep, once again. She wished she hadn’t been in the surgery yesterday. Wished she hadn’t seen Abby Henshaw. But as she brushed her fingers along her daughter’s chest, she realised how close she’d been to losing her and just how lucky she was.

  Chapter Nineteen

  After Gardner and Jen had left, Abby closed the door behind them, leaning her head against the glass. In the silence of the house she felt utterly alone. The truth was that part of her did blame Jen. A small part of her agreed completely with Paul. If it hadn’t been for Jen, she would still have her baby. If she hadn’t been driving out there to see her friend, maybe none of this would’ve happened. If only...

  For the next few hours Abby was alone. Almost. While Paul was gone she’d answered the phone once and quickly regretted it. The reporter had bombarded her with questions. Abby screamed at her. Why wouldn’t they leave her alone? She wasn’t naive enough to think that would go untold to the baying public but she didn’t much care. All she cared about was getting Beth back.

  Two neighbours from across the street, women Abby couldn’t recall ever speaking to, came to the door bearing gifts of soup and flowers. Abby felt like she was in a bad American film, that a pile of casseroles would be discovered on the doorstep in the morning.

  Amy from work called her, promising to drop by, giving her condolences. Her boss, Jason, dropped in and talked for almost an hour, wanting every detail, pretending he was concerned. Abby had never known Jason to be concerned about anything or anyone other than himself and his company. But she thanked him and was grateful when he left.

  Laura from the shop arrived soon after with enough tears that anyone would think she was the one who’d lost her child. That she was the one who’d been raped. Abby told her that Paul wasn’t there and thankfully the girl took the hint and left soon after arriving. Abby only answered the door because she was hoping it was Gardner. That he was back with news, that he’d found the men who’d done this. That Beth was safe and sound.

  Chapter Twenty

  Gardner watched as the builders slammed the van doors and disappeared down the drive. He got the feeling Ms Harvey might be needing to find new builders. They’d been polite enough when answering his questions but if looks could kill, Jen Harvey would currently be laid out in a body bag.

  The boss was from London – Brixton to be precise, a place Gardner knew well from his early days on the force. The other two were Scottish and not exactly comfortable with eye contact. Gardner suspected they had something to hide but he was sure it wasn’t anything to do with Abby Henshaw and her daughter. At first he’d thought, alright, so none of them are Russian or Eastern European, but then maybe the guys in the van weren’t either. Mrs Henshaw couldn’t have known for sure. A fake accent might’ve been picked up under normal circumstances but if you’re being shoved into the back of the van you’re hardly going to be listening out for consistency. But he’d checked with the neighbours and both sides had confirmed that the builders and their van hadn’t left Ms Harvey’s all day. As one old guy put it, they hadn’t stopped with their ‘bastard banging and whistling all bastard day’.

  Gardner turned from the window as the van disappeared and found Jen sitting at the kitchen table lighting a cigarette. She held the packet up for him but he shook his head.

  ‘So, they’re off the hook?’ she asked and inhaled deeply, tossing the lighter onto the table.

  ‘Probably,’ Gardner said. He’d look into them further, check if any of them had a record, but he doubted it would lead anywhere.

  ‘Can I get you anything? Tea? Coffee?’ Jen asked without getting up.

  ‘No thanks. I should be getting back soon.’

  She nodded and took another drag. ‘You think you’ll find her?’

  Gardner looked out the window. ‘I hope so,’ he said and turned back to Jen. ‘You mind if I take a look around?’

  ‘Feel free,’ she said and stood up, stubbing her cigarette out. ‘You know they had a look round yesterday though.’

  Gardner nodded and pointed through a doorway covered in plastic sheeting. Jen walked over and pulled back the sheet. ‘Nothing but rubble,’ she said and Gardner stuck his head through. Tools were scattered about amongst the debris but that was all. He moved back into the kitchen as her phone started ringing. She glanced at the screen and answered. ‘Go ahead,’ she said to Gardner and then turned away, her attention with whoever was on the phone. ‘Hey, babe.’

  Gardner walked out through the hall and into the living room. The house was a beautiful, old stone building. A perfect country cottage from the outside but Jen Harvey had butchered the inside, turning it into a minimalist shell. Plenty of white walls and Perspex furniture. He assumed the building work was to get rid of the remaining character left in the house. On the wall was a triptych of Jen. There were no more photos or paintings. There was barely anything at all. He moved on to the next room which he assumed was her study. On a small white desk was a laptop. The lid was closed, covered in dust. On the shelves were dozens of books, several with her name on. He took one from the shelf, glanced at the pink cover and flicked through it.

  ‘That was my first,’ Jen said and Gardner turned to look at her. ‘Sold it for a small fortune. Shame no one else bought it.’ She walked over and took it from his hand. ‘But it paid for this place,’ she said.

  ‘What about the others?’ Gardner asked, nodding to the other books on the shelf.

  Jen shrugged. ‘They just about pay the bills,’ she said and put her book back in its place. ‘Listen,’ she said, putting her hand on his sleeve. ‘That was my editor. I have to go. Do you need to see anything else?’

  ‘No, that’s alright,’ he said and moved away from her. Gardner walked towards the front door. ‘Thanks for your help. I’ll be in touch.’

  Gardner walked down the path and heard her close the door. He got in the car and waited for her to come out, wondering what could be so urgent. After ten minutes he saw her through the window, pacing up and down, her hands gesturing wildly. When she didn’t come out after another ten minutes Gardner started the car and drove away.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Abby thanked Gardner for the update and hung up. There was nothing to report again. No sign of the v
an. No sign of the men. No sign of Beth.

  No hope.

  He’d called the night before to tell her there was nothing on Jen’s builders. She’d sat down, her head in her hands. What had she expected? She didn’t know what to say to him. Thanks? Thanks for what? For doing his job? For not finding Beth?

  ‘Mrs Henshaw?’ Gardner said when she hadn’t spoken for a while.

  ‘Yes. I’m here,’ she said.

  ‘There’s something else. Are you alone?’

  Abby felt sick. He didn’t want her to be alone. Why didn’t he want her to be alone?

  ‘Is your husband there?’

  ‘Yes,’ Abby said. ‘He’s downstairs.’

  ‘Okay,’ he said, clearing his throat. ‘I just wanted to let you know I’ve managed to contact Simon Abbott. I spoke to him this afternoon.’

  Abby felt the breath slip from her. Relief that it wasn’t bad news. Fear of... what? That Simon was involved? She closed her eyes. ‘Is he back?’ she asked.

  ‘No, not yet. We didn’t manage to catch him before he caught his connecting flight out of Dubai. He arrived in Brisbane in the middle of the night or morning, whatever it is over there. He’s trying to find a flight home but I don’t know how long that’ll take. He said he’d try and get the next one out, he’s on stand-by.’

  ‘Did you tell him?’ Abby asked. She heard Gardner sigh.

  ‘I told him that... I told him Beth was missing,’ he said.

  ‘And?’

  Another sigh. ‘I told him you’d been hurt. I didn’t...’ Gardner seemed to be considering his words.

  Abby put him out of his misery. ‘What did he say? He must’ve asked questions, must’ve wanted to know what was going on?’

  ‘I told him I needed him to return as soon as possible. He agreed. Let’s wait until he gets here.’

  Abby closed her eyes. She hated herself for even considering it. She knew it wasn’t possible. But... ‘Could he? I mean, what if he...’

  Gardner paused, the dead air uncomfortable. ‘Let’s just see what happens when I speak to him.’

  The phone rang downstairs, shaking Abby from her thoughts about Simon. She listened to Paul speak, his voice a monotone, repeating the same thing over and over again. She’d told him to disconnect the phone – the only call she wanted was from Gardner, who could reach her on her mobile – but then the media had found that number too so she’d reconnected the landline and let Paul deal with it all. Part of her wanted them to keep printing their stories, to keep showing Beth’s picture. Maybe then someone would come forward, bring her little girl home. But she just couldn’t bring herself to speak to them, to face their endless questions, to listen to their subtle accusations.

  She felt guilty for managing to sleep a few hours the night before. Paul soothed her by telling her she needed to be rested when they brought Beth back. She considered changing the bedding on the crib so it would be nice and fresh for Beth’s return but she just couldn’t bear to wash away the smell of her little girl.

  Abby walked into Beth’s bedroom. Her hand grazed the wall and she thought of how she and Paul had spent hours decorating the room, how he’d smiled at her from across the room, paintbrush in hand, and how she’d blanked out her mistakes and told herself it was going to be fine. She’d let the excitement take over. She stood over Beth’s crib and watched her tears fall and soak into the sheets.

  Outside she could see a small crowd of people, mostly reporters, and a couple of news vans. Other people milled about looking at the house, wondering what was going on behind closed doors. A woman leaned against one of the news vans, smoking. Abby couldn’t see any sign of a cameraman. She watched the woman take one last drag and then flick the butt across the street before looking up at the window. Abby ducked away. Downstairs the phone rang a few times before Paul answered. Abby moved back to the window. The woman was still staring but was now talking on the phone. Abby walked away and went to the top of the stairs. She could see Paul standing in the hall.

  ‘Please, just leave us alone. Please,’ he said and hung up. In the living room his mobile started ringing and he disappeared to answer it. Abby stayed where she was, trying to listen to his conversation but his voice was quiet, exhausted.

  Paul came out and started to climb the stairs before stopping, noticing her there. ‘I thought you might be sleeping.’

  Abby shook her head. ‘I heard the phone,’ she said. ‘Was it that reporter? The woman out there?’

  Paul nodded. ‘She wants to talk to you. I told her you were sleeping.’ He looked down at his mobile, still in his hand. ‘I have to go out,’ he said. ‘I need to sort some things at the shop.’

  Abby wanted to say something. Ask what was so important it had to be done now. But she just nodded and sat down on the top stair.

  ‘I can stay if you like,’ he said. ‘It’s just Laura’s going away. She said she’d stay but... there’s no point...’ He looked up at Abby again. ‘I just need to sort some things out and then I’ll be back.’

  ‘Okay,’ Abby said.

  Paul turned to walk away before stopping and climbing the stairs. He bent over and kissed Abby on top of her head. ‘I promise I won’t be long,’ he said.

  Abby leaned against the banister and watched him go. She could hear the TV left on downstairs but the sound of being alone overwhelmed her. She wished he hadn’t gone but knew it was a cover anyway; anything that needed doing could wait. He just needed time alone in his sanctuary. He didn’t have the heart to open the shop. He’d just sit there, flicking through the children’s books that he’d earmarked to give Beth when she was old enough. It was better than sitting in the house all day, listening to the phone ring.

  She wondered why he didn’t want to stay with her. Had she been too distant? Had she pushed him away when he was suffering too? She tried to talk to him but it felt forced. She knew it was wrong but she felt like the pain belonged to her, not him. This was her tragedy. She was the one who’d lost her daughter.

  After a few minutes she went downstairs and turned off the TV. She walked through to the kitchen and stood a moment before returning to the living room, finally sitting down.

  She tried not to think of anything but Simon came to mind. Where he was? Did he know? She hadn’t tried to call him again. Didn’t know what to say. He hadn’t tried to call her. What did that mean? She wondered if he was finally on his way home. What would happen when she saw him?

  Abby wondered how long this would go on, if Beth would ever be found. How long had it been? Two days? It felt like a lifetime. Would this be her life from now on? Walking from room to room like some kind of wraith. Unwashed and unfed. She wondered what would happen when Paul found out the truth. And he would, eventually. She planned to sit him down and tell him everything. All of it. Let him decide what to do. She couldn’t imagine life would ever be right again anyway. But she couldn’t do it.

  She felt the tears well in her eyes and tried to fight them, tried to stand. But the tears came and she couldn’t stop. The disbelief, the denial, of Beth’s disappearance had finally slipped away, replaced by the realisation that Beth was gone. She was gone. Abby slid down from the chair and curled up on the floor, covering her face with her hands. She screamed but in her mind it sounded like an animal. Her face burned, her throat closed up. She felt like she was dying. For a moment she wished she was.

  She lay there on the floor, slowly starting to breathe again, feeling her chest rise and fall. She hiccupped the last few tears and then was silent. The floor was hard but she felt she could stay there forever. Or at least until this was over.

  Abby didn’t know how long she lay there. The light changed outside. Paul hadn’t come home. She wanted someone to come and pick her up. She needed someone.

  Slowly she pulled herself from the floor and reached for the phone. S
he dialled Jen, needing to talk to her.

  ‘Hello?’ Jen said.

  ‘It’s me,’ Abby said and heard a man’s voice in the background. ‘Jen?’

  ‘Abby? Hang on.’ Abby listened to Jen mumble something and heard a door slam. ‘Abby? What’s up? Has something happened?’

  ‘No,’ Abby said. ‘No, I just...’

  ‘Are you alright?’

  Abby nodded. ‘I’m okay. I just wanted... DI Gardner told me he’d spoken to your builders. I’m sorry.’

  ‘Don’t worry about it,’ Jen said. It sounded like she was smoking. ‘Listen, I’m just in the middle of something. Can I call you back?’

  Abby deflated. She knew her friend could be petty at times but she didn’t think she’d hold a grudge, not now. ‘No, it’s fine. I’ll speak to you later,’ Abby said and hung up before she started to cry again.

  Abby held the phone against her chest. She needed to do something. Why wasn’t she out there looking for Beth? Why wasn’t she banging on doors? She looked at the phone in her hand. She could call Gardner. She ran her fingers over the phone. Her finger stopped over the buttons and before she changed her mind she pressed 1471. She listened to the number and pressed 3. Someone picked up straight away.

  ‘Hannah Jones.’ Abby said nothing. ‘Hello?’

  ‘Is this..? It’s Abby Henshaw,’ she said. ‘I want to talk to you.’

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Abby opened the door to the reporter, Hannah Jones. She hadn’t expected the two men standing with her, one holding a camera, the other a microphone.

  ‘I just want to talk to you,’ Abby said.

  The reporter looked like she was going to argue but instead nodded over her shoulder to the two men. ‘Give us a minute,’ she said to them.