Stolen

by Rebecca Muddiman

  Sara nodded and bent to get her phone out of her bag. Gardner walked into the first room at the top of the stairs. It looked like a guest room. He quickly scanned the drawers and cupboard and then moved on. The next room was Casey’s. It was bursting at the seams with toys and games. They hadn’t cleared out when they left. He checked the wardrobe; there were a lot of empty hangers. He looked around at the rest of the room. It would be impossible to tell how much had been taken. It appeared that Casey had at least one of everything.

  He moved on to what was obviously Helen’s room. There were a couple of photos, possibly of her parents, but nothing compared to what he’d seen in the living room. He checked the drawers and wardrobe. Like Casey’s there were a lot of spaces. Of course he couldn’t know how many clothes Helen had to start with, but she obviously had money and kept up appearances. He was willing to bet that she had taken more than was necessary for a week’s holiday.

  He went back down the stairs and found Sara with the phone to her ear. As he approached her she held it out to him.

  ‘It’s not ringing,’ she said.

  Gardner took the phone and listened. He hung up and then found Helen’s number in Sara’s contact list and tried again himself. He rubbed his eyes and wondered what to do next. He looked up; about to tell Sara to call him if she heard from Helen, when something caught his eye. Or rather the lack of something caught his eye.

  He walked past Sara into the living room. The mantelpiece and tables were completely empty.

  Chapter Sixty-Two

  Gardner sat outside the house and tried to rehearse his words. After several failed attempts he gave up. It didn’t matter how he said it, it would sound the same in the end. He’d made a huge mistake. Abby had been right and instead of helping get her daughter back, he’d let her slip through his fingers. Abby trusted him. She put all of her hope and faith in him and he had let her down, utterly and completely.

  When he could put it off no longer, he took a deep breath and walked up to the front door. Knocking three times, he prepared himself to break Abby Henshaw’s heart once more.

  Simon led him through to the kitchen, calling out to Abby as they approached. Abby turned around from the dishes and smiled at Gardner. The smile quickly faded as she noted the seriousness of his expression and she wiped her hands on her jeans and went over to the table. He could see her hands shaking. Simon put an arm around her shoulders and they both waited for Gardner to speak.

  Clearing his throat he pulled out a chair. ‘Why don’t we sit down?’ he said. Abby and Simon looked at each other and then sat, their legs touching.

  ‘Did you get my message?’ Abby asked. Gardner just nodded. ‘Her name’s Helen, right? Helen Deal?’

  ‘Yes,’ he said.

  The room was quiet except for an insistent dripping tap and the white noise of normal life continuing on the street outside. Gardner wished he was anywhere but here. He wished he had something else to tell them. At least if Beth was dead it would be an ending; some closure for them. But this, it just re-opened the wounds that had never really closed, and this time poured a good helping of salt on them.

  ‘Michael, please,’ Abby said. The sound of his first name was jarring. He rarely heard it at all these days but coming from Abby it was painful. She’d only ever used it once or twice before and now he knew why. It was too personal. The barrier that his profession allowed him meant he could remain at a distance. He hadn’t always achieved that but it gave him the option all the same. Now he was completely part of this family’s hell and he had no choice but to see it through.

  Gardner swallowed. ‘I decided to go back to speak to her after I got your message. I thought maybe she remembered you too,’ he said, looking at Simon. He could see Abby’s hands twisting on her lap. He didn’t want to tell her about Helen, about her being there that day. Not yet anyway. ‘I stopped by last night but there was no answer. Then later I thought about what you’d said in your message. About her daughter dying.’

  Abby and Simon looked at each other. ‘And?’ Simon said.

  ‘She told me that Casey had been born in November 2004. The birth certificate verified it. Casey Deal was born then. And you were right; she died on the fifteenth of December that year. She was five weeks old. I thought maybe she’d had another kid, like you said, that if she got pregnant again straight away, if she named her Casey too...’

  ‘But she didn’t though, did she?’ Abby said.

  Gardner shook his head. ‘There’s no record of her having another baby.’ Abby gripped Simon’s hand. ‘I went back this morning,’ Gardner continued. He could see Abby’s chest rise and fall in rapid breaths. ‘She’s gone. Helen and Casey. They’re gone.’

  ‘Beth,’ Abby muttered. ‘Her name’s Beth.’

  Gardner looked away from Abby and Simon. He saw her stand out of the corner of his eye and the shattering sound caused him to jump. Simon tried to pull the second glass from Abby’s hand but she tore away from him and released it, letting it sail into the kitchen window.

  Gardner could no longer separate the sound of smashing glass from the noise emanating from Abby’s throat. Simon held onto her.

  ‘This is your fault,’ Abby screamed at him. ‘This is your fault. Why didn’t you stop her? She took my baby and you just let her.’ She pulled away from Simon and ran at Gardner, her hands swinging at his face and chest. Simon grabbed hold of Abby, forcing her arms to her sides while Gardner looked on, powerless. ‘We told you it was her and you didn’t listen,’ she screamed at him.

  Abby sunk to the floor and howled. Simon lowered himself to her side and rocked her. Gardner watched, feeling as though the last five years hadn’t happened. They were back to that same place. Abby on the edge of her sanity, Beth still out of reach, and he was just as useless as he had been back then.

  Chapter Sixty-Three

  ‘Alright, try and get hold of whoever’s in charge and ask if anyone fitting her description works for them. It could be tricky, we don’t exactly have much to go on other than “red hair” but I suppose it makes her stand out,’ Gardner said, balancing his phone on his shoulder. ‘We need to know who this woman is. How she knew Beth would be there. And why she told Abby. And I want to know as soon as anyone finds anything on Helen Deal. Phone, car, anything.’

  Gardner could hear someone talking to Lawton in the background. ‘Are you listening?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes, sir,’ she said. ‘DC Harrington’s here. He wants a word with you.’

  Gardner sighed. ‘Put him on.’

  ‘Where are you?’ Harrington asked. ‘I thought we had a date with Ms Hoffman’s coven.’

  Gardner rubbed his eyes. He wasn’t going to lie, he hadn’t forgotten about Jill Hoffman’s friends. He’d planned on another round of interviews with everyone in her inner circle. But what happened with Abby had changed his priorities. He knew he should’ve passed it on to a colleague, that his focus should’ve been with Chelsea, but he couldn’t think about anything but Abby and how much he’d let her down. Besides, Harrington was capable of interviewing a few women.

  ‘Something came up,’ Gardner said. ‘You’re on your own.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I’m in Manchester.’

  ‘What for? Has there been a sighting down there?’ Harington said.

  ‘No. Just start without me. I’ll speak to you later.’ Gardner went to hang up.

  ‘Wait. There’s something else,’ Harrington said, almost whispering. ‘You know Jen, the writer.’

  Gardner tried to get his brain around the leap in conversation. He had better things to be thinking about. ‘What about her?’

  ‘We went out last night.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘And... She’s hot. I’m telling you, you should’ve taken your chance when you had it.’

  ‘I’ve g
ot to go,’ Gardner said.

  ‘Are you pissed off?’

  ‘What? No. I just don’t have time for this. I’ll speak to you later.’ Gardner hung up and then regretted it. Had he given Lawton everything she needed? He’d found out himself who ordered the flyers for the performance of Wind in the Willows. He just needed Lawton to find the girl with the red hair. It couldn’t be that hard, could it?

  He got out of the car and looked up and down the street. He didn’t trust the sat-nav for one minute. He was looking for a flat but all he could see was what looked like an industrial estate. But the robotic woman kept insisting he’d arrived at his destination so he parked at the kerb and got out. The looming buildings blocked out any sunlight there was and the place was eerily quiet. It wasn’t an industrial estate. It was an abandoned industrial estate.

  After a couple of minutes of wandering about he noticed a door with four buzzers. He walked up to have a look; maybe someone could give him directions. And then he saw the name on the third plate. Ridley.

  This was it. Gardner pressed the buzzer and waited for a reply. After a few seconds a man answered, a well-spoken voice that he recognised from their phone conversation. The door clicked and Gardner went in, ignoring the ancient-looking lift, taking the stairs instead.

  He’d gone to a lot of trouble tracking down the man he was about to meet. Had called in a lot of favours, and owed a lot of pints in return for the dozens of calls made by his colleagues. But it was worth it. He’d finally managed to track down the one person who might be able to shed some light on Helen Deal. Since he’d left the house after breaking the news to Abby he’d barely stopped. He was going to find Helen Deal if it was the last thing he did.

  Gardner went to knock on the door to the flat but it opened before he had a chance, and the man in front of him held out his hand. ‘DI Gardner, come in,’ he said. ‘I’m Alan Ridley.’

  The man was older than Gardner expected. His hair, though still thick, was grey and he moved with the stiffness of a man who’d been around a long time. He tried to work out his age. Maybe mid-sixties? Almost twice Helen’s age anyway.

  Ridley let Gardner in and led him across the open-plan loft. There were plenty of exposed brick and aluminium surfaces. It probably cost a fortune to live in an abandoned industrial estate. What was wrong with a normal house?

  ‘Can I get you anything?’ Ridley asked, stopping at the kitchen area. ‘Tea, coffee?’

  ‘Water would be great, thanks,’ Gardner said and looked around. Maybe Ridley and Helen were from different generations, but there was one thing they had in common – money. He’d looked into Helen’s background and discovered she was from a wealthy family. Her grandfather was some kind of big-wig in the steel industry. Maybe that was how they met, some sort of rich person’s event where they celebrate just how much money they have.

  Ridley handed Gardner a glass of water and then led him to the sofa. ‘Sit down,’ he said and took a seat opposite. Gardner took a sip of water and watched Ridley over the top of the glass. When they’d spoken on the phone the man had been taken aback by the mention of Helen’s name but hadn’t been particularly reluctant to talk about her. Gardner got the feeling things hadn’t ended well between them. He wondered if Ridley blamed her for the death of their daughter.

  ‘So what can I do for you, Detective Gardner?’ Ridley asked. ‘You said it was about Helen?’

  ‘Yes,’ Gardner said and put his glass down on the stained wood floor. If Ridley cared he didn’t show it. ‘You and Helen were in a relationship. You had a baby together.’

  Ridley sighed and leaned back into the plush leather chair. ‘Yes, we did,’ he said. ‘Casey. She died not long after she was born.’ He looked at his feet.

  ‘What happened?’ Gardner asked, wanting to get Ridley talking about his daughter but also about Helen.

  Ridley shook his head and coughed. ‘Cot death.’ He looked Gardner in the eye. ‘It was no one’s fault. They hadn’t picked up on any underlying problems. She just...’ He shrugged and blew out a breath. ‘Helen took it very hard. I did too, but Helen...’

  Gardner waited for him to go on but when he didn’t he pressed him. ‘Tell me about you and Helen. How did you meet? How long were you together?’

  Ridley let out what might’ve been a laugh. ‘We met in a bar in...’ He shook his head, trying to recall. ‘I think maybe the November. 2003 it must’ve been. She was beautiful but kind of a mess. She was drunk, telling me that her fiancé had broken it off with her a few weeks earlier.’

  ‘Do you know his name?’

  ‘I don’t.’

  ‘So you started a relationship with her despite her being a mess?’

  Ridley looked at Gardner. ‘It doesn’t make me proud but I took her home that night, thinking it was a one night thing. But...’

  ‘But?’ Gardner asked.

  ‘Helen is the kind of woman who gets what she wants. She worked her way into my life.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘Persistence. She was actually quite charming when she wasn’t drunk. She kept calling again and again and in the end I kind of fell for her. I thought I was lucky that a beautiful young woman like her would be interested in an old fart like me.’ He laughed. ‘And it’s not what you’re thinking.’

  ‘What am I thinking?’ Gardner asked.

  Ridley looked around the apartment. ‘That she was after my money. Firstly I didn’t have any then. This is all quite recent. And secondly, she had plenty of her own.’

  ‘Or her family’s, anyway,’ Gardner said and Ridley smiled.

  ‘Quite,’ he said. ‘I’m not sure Helen’s worked a day in her life.’

  ‘So you started a relationship with her,’ Gardner said, wanting him to continue.

  ‘Yes,’ Ridley said. ‘We had quite an intense relationship. Like I said, she always got what she wanted. And what she wanted most was a baby. And apparently I was the man for the job.’

  ‘What about the fiancé?’ Gardner asked. ‘You said he broke it off. She didn’t get what she wanted there did she?’

  Ridley shrugged. ‘I can’t really say what happened there, detective. I only know what Helen told me.’

  ‘Which was what?’

  ‘That she’d been with this man for a while. She’d moved here to Manchester to be with him. Uprooted her life, as she put it. And then he wasn’t willing to commit.’ He smiled at Gardner. ‘To be honest, I’m not entirely sure there ever was an engagement.’

  ‘You think she made him up?’ Gardner asked.

  ‘No,’ Ridley said and shook his head. ‘No, I think he was real but I don’t think he ever asked her to marry him. I think that’s what she wanted. I think she wanted to marry him and have children and obviously he thought otherwise.’

  ‘So she found someone who wanted what she did?’

  This time Ridley did laugh. ‘No. She found someone she could manipulate. She talked about children frequently; anyone could see she was baby mad. But I made it clear from the start I wasn’t interested in being a father. She assured me it was fine. That we could have fun without making commitments. But a few months later she was pregnant.’

  ‘And you don’t think it was an accident?’ Gardner asked.

  ‘I know it wasn’t an accident. She admitted later that she’d never been on the pill. I’m just surprised it didn’t happen sooner.’

  ‘So when she told you she was pregnant, what happened? She wanted you to marry her? You thought she was trapping you?’

  ‘Quite the opposite,’ Ridley said and Gardner frowned. ‘I know I said I didn’t want to be a father but when I found out she was pregnant I couldn’t just walk away. But that was exactly what Helen wanted me to do.’

  ‘I don’t understand,’ Gardner said. ‘If she didn’t want you to be involved, why bother
telling you? Why not just leave?’

  ‘And there lies the essence of Helen Deal,’ Ridley said, smiling. ‘She enjoyed it. She enjoyed hurting me, letting me know she’d won. She wanted me to know that she’d got what she came for.’

  ‘But you didn’t walk away.’

  ‘No. Once I found out she was carrying my child I knew I couldn’t walk away. I wanted to be a part of the child’s life. I doubted that Helen and I would continue having a relationship but she couldn’t completely exclude me.’ Ridley leaned over and pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket. ‘Do you mind?’ he said, holding them up to Gardner, who just shook his head. ‘I assume because of what I’d said previously she thought I’d just agree to it. She told me she was moving back to the north-east and that was it. In the end I told her I would move there too, that she couldn’t stop me being a part of our child’s life.’ He took a drag of the cigarette. ‘I followed her, left my life here,’ he said. ‘I found a B&B, stayed there a little while. In the end she allowed me to move into the house, it was quite large, but she made it clear she wanted little to do with me. I think she saw me more as the help than anything else. To be honest I thought she’d met someone else. She didn’t have friends, not that I knew of. She wasn’t one for socialising really. She was often in her room, reading, ignoring me. But all of a sudden she was spending a lot of time out of the house.’

  ‘Do you know who it was?’ Gardner asked. ‘This mystery man?’

  ‘No idea,’ he said. ‘I didn’t care that much to be honest. I had no interest in Helen anymore. I was only concerned about the baby.’ He stubbed out the cigarette and frowned. ‘At one point I thought she was sleeping with one of the builders. She seemed very friendly with them, but I imagine they were beneath her. Manual workers. I think she just enjoyed having them there, intimidating me.’