Stolen

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Stolen Page 20

by Rebecca Muddiman


  ‘Hi, it’s Abby. I’m sorry to keep hassling you about this but Simon remembered who the woman was. Her name’s Helen Deal. Simon took her photograph not long before Beth was taken.’ She sighed. ‘He said she asked him about Beth, and she told him she’d lost her daughter. Her daughter died.’ She paused again. ‘And I know that doesn’t mean she couldn’t have had another baby but... But I thought you should know. Anyway. I guess that’s it. See you...’ The message cut off.

  Gardner leaned against the wall and stared out across the car park. The blackening clouds moved quickly as the wind gathered speed. Plastic bottles and wrappers spun around in circles, debris forming miniature tornadoes.

  ‘Shit,’ he said and pushed himself upright. Simon had been right. He did know Helen Deal. Obviously not well but still, it could be relevant. He looked at his watch and attempted to clear all thoughts of Abby and Simon from his head. He could always go back to Helen Deal’s house later. But for now he had to keep his mind focused on other things. Keeping his job for one.

  Chapter Fifty-Seven

  Helen gathered up her things and put them in a bag. Casey was busy deciding which shoes to take with her, Sara patiently letting her try each pair.

  Since Sara had told her what had happened the other day Helen hadn’t been able to settle. So now she was going to have to leave for a while until things blew over. She couldn’t risk someone coming after Casey, couldn’t risk losing another child. The story all over the news about the Davies girl was getting to her. You couldn’t turn on the TV or look at a newspaper without seeing her face. And that it happened here, in Redcar, just made it worse. Is that what had started all this? Is that why that woman had suddenly come after Casey after all this time?

  She went out into Casey’s room and took the small suitcase from Sara’s hand. Casey twirled around in front of them, giggling and holding her fairy tiara in place.

  ‘You can go now,’ Helen said to Sara. ‘I’ll take over with the packing.’

  Sara looked at Helen, surprised. ‘I don’t mind staying.’

  ‘That’s okay,’ Helen said. ‘My things are packed. I just need to sort this little monster.’ She tickled Casey, causing her to squeal, and then she walked towards the door. ‘Casey, say goodbye to Sara and then choose your clothes. Don’t pack too much,’ she said.

  Casey ran to Sara and hugged her. ‘Bye, Sara,’ she said and then turned to look at her wardrobe again.

  ‘Bye, Case,’ Sara said and followed Helen downstairs. ‘I really don’t mind staying to help.’

  Helen ignored her and took some money out of her purse. ‘We’ll be fine,’ she said, handing Sara the money. ‘That’s for this week and next. If you could come by and water the plants, pick up the post, and so forth.’

  Sara put the money in her pocket. ‘When will you be back?’ she asked.

  ‘Oh, probably a week,’ Helen said. ‘Depends when we outstay our welcome.’

  Sara nodded. ‘Well, just ring me and let me know.’ She put on her jacket and walked to the door.

  ‘I’ll see you next week.’

  ‘Okay. Have a good time,’ Sara said and stepped outside. ‘You too, Case,’ she shouted up the stairs.

  ‘Thank you, Sara,’ Helen said and closed the door. She watched Sara disappear down the street and then checked in on Casey, telling her to choose a couple of toys to take. Leaving Casey to make a decision she carried her bag downstairs and put it by the door.

  ‘Don’t be long, Casey,’ she shouted up to her daughter as she climbed the stairs. ‘We’re going to see Daddy.’

  Chapter Fifty-Eight

  Gardner stopped outside Helen Deal’s house and checked his watch. It wasn’t too late to visit, though she would probably disagree. Anytime was probably a bad time for him to call again, but he needed to know if she remembered Simon. Not that that would prove anything. But Abby said that her daughter had died. It was all he’d been thinking about during the meeting. Helen’s daughter had died. Yes, she’d probably had another baby, like Abby said, but wouldn’t she have mentioned it when they talked about losing a child? He’d tried contacting the registry office but, of course, they were closed by the time he’d come out of the meeting with Atherton and he didn’t have the energy to argue with the jobsworth on the emergency service line. He’d have to check first thing in the morning.

  Gardner got out of the car and ran up the steps. There was no sound coming from the house. He knocked and waited. Leaning back he looked up at the windows. No lights were on upstairs but then it was barely dark yet. He wondered what time Casey would go to bed, what was normal for a kid that age, and looked at the window next to him. Curtains were drawn but he couldn’t see any light peeking out. He knocked again, harder.

  Gardner checked his watch once more, before leaning impatiently, with his hands on either side of the door. He went to knock one more time but thought better of it. There was no one home. He sighed and walked back to his car. He’d try in the morning. He was too exhausted now. Some reporter had ambushed him on his way out of the station asking him pretty much the same questions as his boss had. He’d been slightly less polite in his responses to the reporter. But he didn’t care about that right now. He just wanted to go home and sleep and try not to think about Abby or Helen Deal or his boss or Chelsea Davies. He needed a full six hours and maybe then he’d be able to think straight and even come up with some answers.

  As he pulled up outside his flat he glanced down at his phone, wondering why Abby hadn’t checked in with him. Usually she would’ve been chomping at the bit, urgently needing to know what had happened, what had been said. Climbing out of the car he decided that he should enjoy the silence and take the opportunity to kick back with a much-needed beer and a proper night’s rest.

  Gardner chucked his jacket on the back of the settee and watched as it slid off onto the floor. He left the old files from Abby’s case on the table, too tired to start looking through them tonight. He opened the fridge and ignored the unopened food, instead pulling out a bottle of beer. Opening it on the edge of the table he walked into the living room, turned on the TV and collapsed onto the settee. Too tired to reach for the remote, he let some bad sitcom play, leaned back and took a long sip. He looked around the flat. There wasn’t a single photograph up in there. No family snaps from good times. He laughed to himself. What good times? He didn’t have anyone in his life that he wanted on his mantelpiece. He had a few prints that could go on the walls but he’d been in the flat for almost six years now and he still hadn’t finished decorating, never mind putting pictures up. He closed his eyes and listened to the TV talking to itself.

  He woke with a start as tepid beer pooled in his lap. ‘Shit,’ he muttered and stood up, leaving the almost empty bottle on the table. Heading for the bathroom he stripped off his clothes and left them in a heap outside the door. He climbed into the shower and stood under the warm water for a long time.

  Chapter Fifty-Nine

  Helen opened the door to the Yellow Sands Bed and Breakfast. The place was barely still standing but it would do. As long as she had Casey nothing else mattered. She approached the desk and rang the bell. An elderly man shuffled through the door, smiling as if she was the first visitor he’d had in years. Maybe this wasn’t the best place to be.

  ‘I’d like a room, please,’ Helen said. ‘For a week.’ She wasn’t sure she’d be there that long, but it was best to keep her options open. The less she had to deal with anyone, the better.

  ‘Just for yourself?’ the old man asked.

  ‘Yes. But have you got a double room?’

  ‘Of course,’ he said and turned the guest book around for her to sign in.

  Helen filled it in and paid in cash. The old man handed her a key and told her to give him a shout if she needed anything. She waited until he’d disappeared before going outside to the car and bringin
g Casey in.

  Casey stood in the doorway of the room holding her mouse bag close to her chest. She looked up at Helen. ‘I thought we were going to Daddy’s house,’ she said.

  ‘We are, honey,’ Helen said and led her inside.

  ‘When?’ Casey asked.

  ‘Maybe tomorrow. I’m not sure yet.’

  Casey yawned. ‘I’m tired,’ she said and Helen nodded. She took Casey’s hand and sat her on the double bed.

  ‘You’ll have to sleep in here with me tonight, honey,’ she said to Casey. ‘Is that okay?’

  ‘Will Daddy come and stay here with us?’

  ‘I don’t know, honey,’ Helen said and pulled Casey’s shoes off. ‘But we’ll go and visit him soon. Why don’t you put your pyjamas on and brush your teeth?’

  After Casey was asleep, Helen sat staring out across the harbour watching the ships far out at sea, dim lights on a black landscape, thinking about what to do next. She wanted to feel settled, wanted to be at home. But how could she when that woman was after her daughter? She liked it in Whitby, she’d spent a lot of time there as a child, but she’d moved back to Redcar for a reason. It’s what she knew. What her family knew. This was just a place for holidaying, not for living. But she had no choice now. She couldn’t go back. Not ever.

  Chapter Sixty

  Opening his eyes, Gardner looked at the clock. Five thirty a.m. He rolled over and pulled the sheet across his body.

  He stared out into the dark room, sleep escaping him, thinking he’d let Abby down. He felt as though he was letting everyone down at the moment – Abby, Chelsea, his boss. Maybe it was him. He was the weak link. The newspapers were right. He shoved the pillow behind his head. Perhaps he should stop feeling sorry for himself and just get on with it. Get on with speaking to Helen Deal again.

  He knew that it may come to nothing but still, something was nagging him. And what if it came to something? Then what? What if the girl was Beth Henshaw and it was over? He tried to ignore the little voice in the back of his head that told him he’d probably never see Abby again. So what? That was irrelevant. He turned over and faced the other wall as if it would help.

  Eventually he got up and went into the living room. He could start flicking through Abby’s files. Maybe something would click.

  The sun was just coming up as he scanned each page, unsure what he was looking for. Memories formed, inspired by the notes, some his own, some from other officers. He kept turning the pages.

  And then he saw it.

  ‘Shit,’ he said.

  Helen Deal. One of the witnesses from the doctor’s surgery.

  Helen Deal had been there. Why hadn’t he remembered this before? He read through the page again. PC Cartwright had interviewed her. She’d known nothing. End of.

  ‘Shit,’ he said again and walked into his room to get dressed.

  And then a jolt. His heart was thumping against his chest.

  Her daughter died.

  Gardner paced up and down the small patch of floor in his room.

  Her daughter died.

  He sat down on the end of the bed and rested his head in his hands, focusing on what Abby had said. Simon had taken her picture a few months before Beth disappeared. Helen told him that her daughter had died. When? Had she said?

  He stood up again. What had Helen told him? Casey was born on the eleventh of November 2004, two months before Beth. Helen had told Simon her baby had died shortly before Beth was born. That must’ve been Casey. If she’d had another kid by then she would’ve mentioned it to Simon, wouldn’t she? So even if she’d had another baby, even if she’d called her Casey too, it would’ve been after Beth was born. So the birth certificate Helen showed him couldn’t belong to the little girl he’d seen. It wasn’t possible. There was nothing in Cartwright’s notes about a baby either.

  ‘Shit,’ he said and scrambled around on the floor for his clothes. In less than two minutes he was out of the front door and on his way.

  Gardner checked his watch. Only just gone six forty-five. He parked across the street from Helen Deal’s house and debated whether he should make a move yet.

  At seven he got out and went and knocked on the front door. There was no answer. The street was empty, as you’d expect at that time of the morning. As he looked along at the surrounding houses, he noticed that each was identical. Curtains drawn upstairs and down. No lights. Even the street lights were virtually all out.

  Gardner knocked again and looked at the upstairs windows of Helen’s house. No signs of twitching curtains. No one checking who was calling so early in the morning.

  He turned around and went back to his car and headed for the station, file in hand. Lawton was at her desk when he got there. She probably had less of a social life than he did. She looked up as he rushed through the office.

  ‘Sir?’

  ‘Is Cartwright in today?’

  ‘I think so,’ she said. ‘What’s going on?’

  ‘I need you to do something for me,’ Gardner said. If he was going to do this he should at least have concrete evidence that the little girl wasn’t Casey Deal. ‘I need you to contact the registry office and find out about Casey Deal. Her date of birth was 11 November 2004. I need to know when she died. It’s urgent.’ He started to walk away but then turned. ‘And if you see Cartwright, let me know.’

  Gardner pushed through the doors and started searching for Cartwright. He should’ve known he’d be loitering around the canteen, talking shit. He shouted him from across the room. Cartwright stood up and took his time walking over.

  ‘Sir?’ he said. ‘I was just–’

  ‘The Beth Henshaw case,’ Gardner said, not caring what excuses Cartwright had for not actually doing any work. ‘You interviewed Helen Deal. You remember that?’

  Cartwright looked blank so Gardner thrust the file at him. ‘She was in the doctor’s surgery when Abby Henshaw was there. You interviewed her afterwards to eliminate her. Ringing any bells?’

  ‘Yes,’ Cartwright said, eventually. He glanced at the notes. ‘Why?’

  ‘Did she have a baby? Helen Deal?’

  Cartwright shrugged. ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘You can’t remember or you didn’t check?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ He looked at the notes again. ‘I asked if she’d seen anything, if she’d seen the van, if she knew Abby Henshaw. But she didn’t so that was it.’

  Gardner was losing patience. ‘But did she have a baby? Was there a baby in the house when you questioned her?’

  ‘I don’t know. I didn’t see a baby. We were sat in the kitchen, I didn’t see-’

  ‘You didn’t check?’

  ‘No, I... There was a baby’s car seat in the hallway. I didn’t think–’ He stopped and looked at Gardner who was breathing heavily. ‘What’s going on?’

  Gardner walked away, too angry to speak. He was furious at Cartwright. How could he have been so stupid, so incompetent? But why hadn’t he checked too? Why hadn’t he gone over every single witness himself?

  He could’ve found Beth Henshaw five years ago.

  Chapter Sixty-One

  A few phone calls later Lawton informed Gardner that Casey Deal died on the 15th of December 2004. Helen Deal had never had another child; at least she hadn’t registered another birth.

  That girl couldn’t be her daughter. Abby had been right. And he’d ignored her.

  Gardner sat in his car, watching Helen Deal’s house. He hadn’t told anyone yet. Not even Lawton. He couldn’t. Not yet. He couldn’t face that he’d made such a huge mistake. He needed to find Helen Deal and make things right.

  Just after eight, a young blonde woman approached the house and climbed the steps. She rummaged in her bag and pulled out a set of keys. Letting herself in she closed the door behind her
. Gardner climbed out of the car, his legs stiff. He crossed the street and knocked at the door. A few moments later the woman answered it.

  ‘Yes?’ she said.

  ‘I’m DI Gardner,’ he said, showing her his warrant card. ‘I’d like to speak to Helen Deal, please.’ He suddenly realised how much of a mess he must look in his clothes scraped up off the floor.

  The woman looked startled. ‘She’s not here. What’s wrong?’

  ‘You are?’ he asked.

  ‘Sara Walters. I’m her nanny.’

  ‘Do you know where she is?’

  ‘She’s on holiday.’

  Gardner felt his heart sink. He tried not to show the panic he was feeling. ‘When did she go?’

  ‘Yesterday.’

  Gardner nodded. ‘Do you know when she’ll be back?’

  Sara shrugged. ‘She said next week. She wasn’t exactly sure.’

  Gardner sighed. ‘Has Casey gone with her?’

  ‘Of course.’ Sara looked past Gardner, up and down the street. ‘Is something wrong? Has something happened to Casey?’

  ‘No,’ he said. ‘Can I come in?’ Sara paused and then stepped back. ‘Do you know where they went?’

  ‘Devon,’ she said. ‘Somewhere in Devon. She has relatives there.’

  ‘Did she leave a contact number or an address?’ Gardner said, looking around.

  ‘No. I mean, I have her mobile number.’

  ‘Okay, I need you to give it to me.’

  ‘I don’t understand. Is she in trouble? Is it about that woman? The one who followed me and Casey? Has she done something?’ Sara asked, her face creased with concern.

  ‘Sara?’ She stopped and took a breath. ‘Casey’s okay but I need to get hold Ms Deal as soon as possible.’

 

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