Stolen

by Rebecca Muddiman

  Gardner looked down at his feet and bent to do as she requested. Lawton, always prepared, slipped hers off easily. Helen stood in the doorway, leaning against the wooden frame as Gardner finally yanked off his second shoe. She led them into the living room and he noticed the pristine cream of the carpet and three-piece suite. Not that he was an expert but he didn’t think light-coloured fabric and small children were a good mix. In the corner the TV talked away to itself. It took a moment for Gardner to realise that the reporter was talking about Chelsea Davies. For a second the three of them stared at the image of the little girl on the screen. Gardner looked away first and Helen switched it off before indicating that they should sit. Gardner was grateful that she hadn’t slipped a plastic cover beneath him first.

  ‘Can I get you anything?’ she asked. Gardner declined and she sat down on the chair opposite him.

  He looked around at the room. The decor was immaculate but the mantelpiece and every other available surface was covered in photo frames. Virtually every one displayed pictures of Casey.

  When he turned back to Helen she was smiling. ‘She’s beautiful, isn’t she?’ she said.

  Gardner and Lawton nodded and waited for the woman to turn her attention back to them. When that didn’t happen, he reluctantly began. ‘I’m sure you’re aware of the incident a couple of days ago.’

  ‘Of course,’ she said turning to face him. ‘Sara told me that some woman had been following them. She said her daughter had died.’

  ‘Missing,’ Gardner said.

  ‘Oh. Well, I’m sure that’s almost as bad. I couldn’t imagine what I’d do if anything happened to Casey.’ Gardner waited. ‘She’s not dangerous is she?’

  ‘No. She’s not dangerous. She’s just... she never gave up looking for her daughter,’ he said.

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘She thought that Casey looked a lot like her daughter.’

  Helen shook her head. ‘Poor woman.’ Folding her hands she looked at the floor. ‘How old was she? The girl, when she went missing?’

  ‘Just a baby, eight months I believe,’ he said although he knew precisely how old she was. ‘Can I ask, do you think it’s possible to recognise your own child after not seeing her for a long time? I mean if you last saw Casey when she was only a baby, would you recognise her now?’

  ‘God forbid,’ Helen said. She stared at the pictures on the table next to her and picked up the closest one. In it Casey was blowing out five candles on a birthday cake. Helen stared into the picture, eyes glazing over. Gardner thought she wasn’t going to answer when finally she spoke again. ‘Yes. I’d like to think I would.’ She looked back at Gardner. ‘But I suppose I can’t be sure. I think it would probably be difficult. I imagine I’d see her face everywhere. I think everyone’s a bit anxious at the moment.’

  ‘Excuse me?’ Gardner said.

  Helen nodded towards the TV. ‘With that girl missing. I think everyone’s a bit on edge round here.’

  A floorboard creaked outside the room and a small head peeked around the door. Helen’s face lit up and she walked over to the little girl.

  ‘This is Casey,’ she said bending down to her. ‘Casey, this is Mr Gardner. He’s a policeman.’ Again she ignored Lawton’s presence.

  Casey rubbed her eyes and smiled. ‘Hello,’ she said.

  ‘Hello, Casey,’ Gardner said. ‘Shouldn’t you be asleep?’

  ‘I’m thirsty.’

  Helen stood and smiled at Gardner. ‘Excuse me,’ she said and led Casey from the room. ‘Come on then, let’s get you some water.’

  ‘Is he going to arrest me?’ Casey said as she disappeared into the kitchen. Gardner laughed.

  ‘Cute,’ Lawton said.

  Gardner stood to look at the rest of the photographs. Most of them were of Casey alone. Some showed Casey and Helen; a couple were of Casey and the nanny. One in the corner was too small for the frame. A closer look showed that the picture had been cropped. Gardner wondered if it had been Casey’s father, a bitter break-up demanding he be cut out of all the family photos.

  Gardner crossed to Lawton, standing by the mantelpiece. Most of the photos here were in frames but there were a few loose pictures piled at the far end of the fireplace. Gardner picked them up and flicked through. A couple were out of focus. One was obviously a couple of years old and had also been trimmed. At the bottom were three pictures of Casey when she was a newborn. One showed Casey in her crib, wrapped in a pink blanket. The other two showed Helen cradling her in her arms, looking both exhausted and ecstatic, the same look he’d seen on Abby’s face in the picture at Simon’s house. Gardner held them up for Lawton to see.

  The floorboard squeaked behind them and they turned around. Helen was staring at the picture in his hand. Her eyes glistened and she reached out for it, stroking the image of the new baby with her thumb, mesmerised by the image. Gardner shifted his feet and broke the spell Helen was under.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said and wiped her eye. ‘Just looking at this makes me... You’d think I’d have learned to control my emotions by now.’ She clutched the picture to her chest.

  ‘When was she born?’ Gardner asked.

  Helen stared at him for a few seconds before answering. ‘The eleventh of November. 2004.’ She crossed her arms. ‘Was there anything else? I don’t want to be rude but I don’t really know why you’re here. We’re not pressing charges and it is getting late.’

  ‘Of course,’ Gardner said. ‘I’m sorry to have bothered you.’ He walked towards the front door, nodding for Lawton to follow, and started putting his shoes on. He could hear rustling and the sound of drawers opening and closing coming from the living room. As he finished tying up his shoes and stood, Helen came out brandishing a piece of paper. Gardner took it from her and looked down at Casey’s birth certificate.

  ‘Is that what you came for Detective Gardner?’ she said.

  Gardner let out a sigh. Casey Deal. Born eleventh of November 2004. Father registered as Alan Ridley. He handed the certificate back to Helen. She turned and walked back into the living room. Gardner waited for her to return but when it became clear she wasn’t going to, he quietly let himself out without another word.

  Chapter Fifty-Four

  Abby paced up and down the living room. Simon checked his watch. Still, the knock at the door startled them both. Simon stood but Abby was already in the hall pulling the door open.

  She’d called Gardner at about six that morning. Miraculously he hadn’t hung up on her but listened carefully to her frenzied, cluttered speech and promised to come by later to talk to her in person. Once she’d put the phone down Abby and Simon paced and tapped feet and pottered until he arrived.

  Abby led him through into the living room and he acknowledged Simon with a slight nod of the head. Abby sat down beside Gardner and began asking questions at a mile a minute. Gardner waited for a pause in Abby’s speech and then made his move.

  ‘What made you think that the girl was your daughter?’ he asked Simon.

  ‘I don’t know really,’ he answered. ‘I just knew.’

  ‘She’s our daughter,’ Abby added, ‘we know our daughter. If you saw her you’d know.’

  ‘I’ve seen her,’ Gardner said.

  For a few brief moments the world seemed to stop. Abby and Simon looked at each other, both knowing what was going through the others mind.

  ‘I spoke to her mother.’

  ‘Who is she? Simon recognised her. The woman, he knows her from somewhere.’

  Gardner looked at Simon, who nodded. ‘I can’t remember how I know her but I definitely recognised her.’

  Gardner seemed to process the information but it obviously wasn’t enough. He dug his fingers into his eyes, unable to look at her. ‘She’s not your daughter, Abby. I’m sorry.’

 
Abby dropped back from Gardner and shook her head. ‘How do you know? How can you be sure?’

  ‘I saw her birth certificate. I saw the pictures of her holding Casey when she was born.’ He shook his head. ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘But...’ Abby looked to Simon for help. Simon just dropped his head to his hands, his eyes tightly closed.

  ‘I am sorry,’ Gardner said again.

  ‘What was her name?’ Abby asked. ‘The woman, what’s her name?’

  ‘I can’t tell you that, you know that.’

  ‘But he knows her from somewhere. It might be important, it might help.’

  Gardner watched Abby intently, and for a moment she thought he might relent. Instead he rose, apologised once more and left Abby and Simon sitting there, all hope lost once again.

  Gardner sat in his car outside the house and leant back against the headrest. He was starting to wish he hadn’t gone to Helen Deal’s house. Not only was she likely to put a complaint in about him turning up and all but accusing her of child theft but now he’d left Abby broken-hearted again. He hadn’t really expected that Casey would turn out to be Abby’s missing daughter; he knew it was a fool’s errand from the start, just like all the others, but he had to admit he was disappointed. There was no way the pictures of Helen with Casey just after she was born were faked. Lawton saw them and agreed. The way Helen had thrust her daughter’s birth certificate at him was odd but then again he had all but accused her of being a criminal; what would he have done if their positions had been reversed? Helen Deal had seemed a little peculiar, a little tightly wound, but he had no doubt in his mind that the girl was in fact her own daughter.

  Chapter Fifty-Five

  Abby had barely said a word since Gardner had given her the news. She left the house early in the morning, telling Simon she needed time alone, and returned hours later, red-eyed and mute. She knew Simon had guessed she’d been to see Casey again.

  The deal they’d made hadn’t been mentioned. She didn’t know where things stood. The deal was if Simon didn’t agree the little girl was Beth then she would give it up. As things stood though, Simon had agreed with her. It was only Gardner that disagreed and it was possible Gardner was wrong. Still, the deal wasn’t mentioned so she continued.

  Simon wasn’t there when she’d come home. He hadn’t left a note saying where he’d gone or what time he’d be back. For all she knew he’d gone away on one of his trips.

  The front door opened and Abby caught a glimpse of Simon before he disappeared up the stairs. She found him in the back bedroom pulling down a box from the top of the shelves, rummaging through photos and papers. Abby stood in the doorway watching.

  ‘I remembered,’ he said, not looking up. ‘I remembered who she is.’

  Abby stood up straight, her mouth suddenly dry. ‘Who is she?’ she asked. Simon pulled out a tatty book and furiously flipped through the pages. ‘Simon?’ she said.

  He looked up from the book. ‘Her name’s Helen. Helen something. I took her photo.’

  Abby frowned and crouched down beside him. He was checking an appointment book from 2005 – the year Beth disappeared.

  ‘I remember her now. She came and had portraits done. She came twice, I think,’ he said, his finger tracing down the page. He stood up and looked over the shelves to the photo albums. He kept copies of lots of the photos he took, samples of what he could do for potential customers.

  Abby watched him and felt her heart beating hard against her chest. If Simon could prove he knew this woman, that she had some connection to him, then surely the police would have to look more deeply into her.

  Simon pulled an album off the shelf and flicked through it. When he reached the end he tossed it aside and pulled another one out. Halfway through he stopped.

  ‘That’s her,’ he said.

  Abby took the album from him and stared at the picture. That was her alright. The woman who drove away with her daughter. The woman who stole her daughter. Abby’s fists curled into the plastic album cover.

  ‘I remember her now,’ Simon said and Abby looked up at him. ‘She was really demanding, a total pain in the arse, insisted on this and that, wanted everything exactly how she said.’ He took the album back from Abby and stared at the picture. ‘She was weird. She asked loads of questions. She told me about her kid...’ Simon closed his eyes. ‘Shit,’ he said.

  ‘What?’ Abby asked. ‘She does have a daughter?’ Abby felt her heart sink.

  ‘No,’ Simon shook his head. ‘She had one. She told me her daughter died.’

  Abby felt a chill run down her spine. ‘What? When?’ she asked.

  Simon checked the appointments book again. ‘Her appointment was in February 2005. I can’t remember when she said. Maybe a few months earlier. She just kind of blurted it out. She seemed, I don’t know, shocked that she’d said it. Like she wasn’t used to talking about it. She’d been asking about Beth.’

  ‘Wait,’ Abby said. ‘You told her about Beth?’

  Simon nodded. ‘I’d just seen my daughter for the first time; I was desperate to tell someone about her.’

  Abby felt sick. Was that why she’d taken Beth? She’d lost her own daughter and wanted a replacement?

  ‘I didn’t think it’d matter telling a stranger,’ Simon said. ‘She didn’t know us, didn’t know about you being married.’ Simon staggered back. ‘Is this is my fault?’

  Chapter Fifty-Six

  Gardner sat at his desk, scribbling on the same patch of his notebook until the paper wore through. Chelsea Davies was still missing and he had absolutely no leads. One neighbour remembered seeing a car outside Jill Hoffman’s house the afternoon Chelsea went missing but was only partly sure of the colour and had no idea of the make. She was positive that it’d been there from about lunchtime until possibly around the time Chelsea disappeared. Jill Hoffman confirmed that it’d been a friend visiting but she had left long before Chelsea came home from the park with her brother. The friend, Louise Cotton, confirmed this and a search of her house had come up empty. The girl had just vanished.

  Five grand had been raised by the local community and one of the national papers had whipped up its readers into a frenzy and got the reward to thirty thousand. It had also made it clear that the police were not doing their jobs. Gardner wondered if they were right. Was he doing his job? By rights he should’ve been concentrating fully on the Davies case but his mind kept slipping into thoughts of Abby and the woman she believed had her daughter. Something was niggling him. Something about the woman. Simon Abbott thought he knew her but couldn’t remember how. Was that it?

  He tried to focus on Chelsea Davies. There had to be something he was missing.

  He checked his watch and decided to pay Jill Hoffman another visit. Plenty of time to get there and speak to her again before having to face his boss. And maybe then he’d actually have something to tell him.

  Simon had gone out, Abby didn’t ask where. He obviously needed space. So did she. She’d dialled Gardner’s number with the intention of passing on the information about Helen but had hung up before he could answer. She checked Simon’s appointment book after he’d left and discovered the woman’s full name. Helen Deal. Something clicked in her mind when she read it but she didn’t know what. Maybe she could find a number for her, or an address. She’d gone through the phone book but the number wasn’t listed. She’d tried Googling her but came up empty. She could go back to the street where she’d seen Beth and the nanny. Maybe she’d see them again, follow them home.

  Gardner said he’d seen evidence that Casey was Helen’s child. He’d seen pictures of her holding the baby just after she’d been born, he’d seen a birth certificate. That didn’t mean anything. It didn’t mean that the girl she had now was the girl in the pictures. Abby dragged her handbag across the floor and pulled out her purse. Inside was
a frayed picture of Abby holding Beth minutes after she was born. Abby stroked the picture. What if she was wrong? Simon was sure about this woman; sure she’d said her daughter had died but was it possible she’d had another daughter since and this was all coincidence? That she was seeing links because she wanted to see them? Had she been mistaken again? She’d been so sure the little girl was hers. Was it just desperation?

  But Simon had agreed with her, hadn’t he? Could she have convinced him somehow with her own insistence?

  Abby reached for the phone again and called Gardner.

  Gardner pulled into the station car park and watched as the wipers tried to keep up with the rain. Turning off the engine, he sat in the car listening to the rain pelt against the windows. The visit to see Jill Hoffman had been a waste of time. He’d arrived to find her watching some American reality TV show and she’d barely taken her eyes off the screen long enough to acknowledge his presence, never mind answer any questions. He’d asked how she was coping and she’d turned and said, ‘I can’t talk about it. It’s too hard,’ and then refused to answer anything else. One of the smaller kids had come in and asked where Chelsea was and Jill looked at him, shrugged and said ‘We don’t know,’ before looking back to the TV. The boy waddled back outside and Gardner found him playing alone in front of the house as he left. So much for having something to tell the boss.

  Gardner checked his phone and discovered a message from Abby. He sighed and the phone rang, still in his hand, and he answered his boss straightaway. The meeting he was meant to be in was about to start. Gardner promised DCI Atherton he’d be there in ten minutes and hung up. He climbed out of the car and ran towards the building as the raindrops fell, fat and grey. Moving into the cigarette-littered doorway of the police station he listened to Abby’s message.