A Family By Design

by Olivia Rytwinski

  I thought and shook my head. “No one that comes to mind. My hometown is Oban, but that’s a decent drive away.” Then without warning I felt a shot of adrenaline. “In fact, Max and I met at Strathclyde Uni, and we walked there with the hiking group a few times. It was twenty years ago though, and we haven’t been down much since, other than to drive through. Could it be relevant?”

  “Are you in touch with anyone at Uni or in Glasgow?” asked Inspector Keir.

  “Not really, but Max may be through work. I’m still in touch with Uni friends but none that live there now.”

  Detective Brooks readjusted his glasses. “Was there anything that may have caused someone to have a problem with either of you?”

  “No. I had a serious relationship that finished before meeting Max, but he’s living in Morecambe, married with children.”

  “Was there any resentment on his part?” he said, and tapped his pen lightly against the table.

  “At first, but he soon moved on, like you do at that age. He even went out with my friend Georgie for a while.”

  “Are you still in touch?” he asked.

  “We’re friends on Facebook, but we rarely message. He only uses it to promote his business, nothing you’d look twice at. God knows what I ever saw in him. I don’t think he’s got anything to do with this. And, he looks nothing like the man in the car.”

  “I’m sure you’re right, but if you can tell me his name, it would be prudent to check him out. It could be that whoever has Lyssa was only passing through the area, taking the back roads and heading elsewhere. Any other previous boyfriends or admirers down that way?”

  “No, as soon as we split, I met Max. Oh, and David’s surname is Harley,” I said, and thought what a futile line of enquiry this was.

  Detective Brooks made a note. “And what’s his business?”

  “Pretty sure it Harley Architectural Design,” I replied.

  Detective Brook’s head snapped up. “He’s an architect too?”

  “Yes, Max and he were on the same Postgrad course.”

  “Do you know if Max and he have any business links?”

  “I can’t imagine it. They didn’t exactly get on,” I said, and tried to recall if Max had mentioned David recently.

  “Got through to Max?” asked Inspector Keir.

  “I’ve left him messages. Louis, could you try home again,” I said.

  The Inspector’s radio burst into life, and she stepped into the corridor.

  I listened to Louis talking. He looked relieved. “Gran’s spoken to Dad. He’s had a flat tyre and trouble changing it. Says he didn’t hear his phone and then saw all the missed calls.”

  “And what’s he doing now?” I asked.

  “Coming here.”

  “He could have rung me back.” I seethed and struggled to hide it.

  Even if some progress had been made, I still felt as though my insides had been ripped out, and a fear that something unspeakable had happened to Lyssa hammered away inside me and pushed aside any positive thoughts I had tried to foster.

  Other abductions and their outcomes returned to haunt me, and I realised that from the outside it was impossible to understand how it really felt when something like this happened. I recalled horrific stories on the news, and how I’d felt pity for the parents, for the family. I’d even shed tears. But if I was honest with myself, these tears had been false, and all I had felt was relief. Relief that it hadn’t happened to us, relief that it wasn’t our beloved child going through God only knows what misery and agony before they suffered the most inhumane death you could imagine. The child you nurtured inside of you, suffered pain to be with and invested every ounce of energy within you to ensure they grew up to be happy children - how could any parent possess the strength to cope with that life being so viciously cut short? A tragic accident or an unavoidable illness taking your child would be beyond heart-breaking, but for them to suffer kidnap, abuse, and brutal murder, I never wanted to experience how that would feel.

  Who was I trying to kid? That was exactly what was happening.

  Max walked through the doorway and looked flustered. “I had a flat tyre, and didn’t hear my phone.”

  As he came nearer, I noticed a fine film of sweat made his face glisten.

  I got up and waved a dismissive hand at him. “Don’t bloody bother, Max. I’ve had it up to here with your lies. You set off ages before us, and funny, but I don’t remember passing you stuck on the side of the road,” I hissed, and wondered how he was going to wheedle his way out of this one. When he didn’t reply, I continued. “Well? Where have you been and what the hell’s going on? I’m not imagining it. You’re being weird and secretive.”

  His eyes twitched, as he took in Detective Brooks and Louis.

  “Even Mum’s noticed. Is it to do with Lyssa?” My legs felt weak, and I grabbed the back of the chair and sat down.

  “Are you serious?” He pinched the bridge of his nose and inhaled deeply. “You’ve lost the plot. And do you think we can have this conversation in private?” He looked pointedly at Louis who stared at his phone.

  I glanced at Detective Brooks who openly watched us.

  “No, I don’t think there’s any need for us to speak privately. Your son’s been more help since this whole fucking nightmare started, so I think he’s got a right to hear your pathetic excuses.”

  Inspector Keir walked in. She looked at Detective Brooks and me as we watched and waited for Max to respond.

  “I’m not doing it here Kat, so we can discuss this alone or you can rant to yourself. And shut that filthy mouth, it’s disgusting and not helping.” Max turned on his heel and stormed out.

  Once we were behind the closed door of the interview room, I said, “Is this private enough for you to feed me more of your sick lies? Do say if you need a moment to come up with some. I’m more than happy to sit here crying about our missing daughter for a minute or two longer.” I was being vile, but I was way beyond caring about his feelings.

  Max circled the room like a caged animal looking for an escape route. I guessed he knew his excuse had to be plausible.

  “So, thought of anything?” I asked, my tone unchanged. “When I think about it, you’ve been behaving strangely for weeks. I couldn’t put my finger on it before, and barely paid it any attention, but now our daughter’s life is hanging in the balance, if she’s still alive, I need to know right fucking now what it is that you know.”

  He stood in front of me, folded his arms and his eyes burned into mine. “Fine, but before I do, I’d like to point out that I wasn’t the one who left Lyssa in the car with the door wide open and the keys in the ignition. So if anyone’s to blame for this goddamn nightmare, it’s you,” he said. “I wouldn’t say this but you’re trying to lay the blame on me and it’s not on.” He leaned back on the edge of the table; arms folded. “If you must know, I drove up the lane towards Fydon to check out the disused water pump room and was unlucky enough to get a flat tyre.” He held my gaze; dared me to challenge him. “I thought it might be worth heading up there. I realised it could be a waste of time, but I’m clutching at straws too. You suggested driving around to look for her, didn’t you?” I heard Max’s phone buzz. He paused then continued. “It wasn’t my fault there was no phone signal.”

  “Aren’t you going to see who your message is from?” I asked, and noted that Max rarely waited to read new messages.

  “In a minute.” His voice rose. “I was going frantic when I couldn’t get hold of you. Did you think of that? Take a good look at yourself, instead of throwing accusations at me.”

  His anger rendered me lost for words, and I suddenly felt faint.

  I shut my eyes. “Can you get me some water? I feel dizzy.”

  “You’ve gone white. I’ll fetch some.” Max dashed out.

  White spots flashed before me, and I dropped my head between my knees.

  Max returned. He took my hand and rubbed his thumb back and forth. “You OK?”
/>   I lifted my head cautiously.

  “Drink this, a bit of sugar might help.” He pulled the ring on a can of lemonade. “You’ve hardly slept or eaten, have you? I feel ill, too.”

  Not for the same reason, I thought, and drank a mouthful. As we shared the can the dizziness and nausea subsided. Our argument was forgotten, at least for the moment, and I told him about the man’s photo-fit and the car sightings.

  “It was dark when my car was spotted so no one got a look at the driver. You need to see the photo-fit, you might know him through work. They’re going to show it on the news.” I paused. “What if he’s a… you know?”

  “Fuck Jeez, Kat. I can’t think like that.”

  “Why else would someone want to take her?”

  “There could be any number of reasons. Why assume - -”

  “Any number of reasons? What planet do you think we’re on? It’s not bloody Neverland,” I said.

  Max snorted. “Anyway, how did you see his face and manage to draw it? And it was when you stopped at Loch Dubh again?”

  “It was surreal. His face in the wing mirror, the whole sequence of events came back to me. And, do you remember last night, how I heard Lyssa calling? I wasn’t dreaming. I heard her. She’s alive Max, and she’s trying to connect with me.”

  Max frowned with disbelief.

  “I know you think I’ve gone mad, but I’m right, and it’s going to help us find her. Lyssa, our baby, she’s talking to me, Max.”

  My tears fell, and I knew that what I said was true, and it drove away a tiny slice of despair and offered a small glimmer of hope for me to cling to.

  He circled the room, and watched me with critical eyes.

  “Listen to me, Kat. If you believe that will help, fine, and by all means tell the police. They can use it if they think they can,” he sneered. “But don’t involve Louis in this…mumbo jumbo or whatever it is. It’s not fair.”

  “So you don’t believe me?” I shoved my chair back. “Fine, your problem. I could have done with your faith in me, in our daughter, but clearly that’s not going to happen.”

  Furious, I marched out. Why didn’t he trust me? I’d created a photo-fit of the bastard. Inspector Keir had been convinced by it.

  She hadn’t doubted me for a second.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  A Drop of Moonshine

  Max nor I had wanted a huge wedding, although Max insisted I could invite as many guests as I wanted as he was happy to put some of his inheritance towards it. My little sister Alannah was bringing her latest beau, and claimed he was ‘the one’, my parents, both sets of grandparents, plus aunts, uncles, and cousins who had travelled from Norway. Other than that, it was relations and close friends. Neither of us were churchgoers and although Max’s family were Catholic, my family were most definitely lapsed Christians, and so we compromised with a wedding at the pretty Church of Scotland, St. Cuthbert’s in Lochinver.

  Rosie and I spent the pre-wedding night at our reception venue, the spectacular Conival castle a few miles north of Lochinver.

  Rosie got down on her knees to straighten out the skirt of my dress.

  You look beautiful Katriina, a vision of gorgeousness.” She got up and walked around to face me.

  Rosie looked elegant in a fifties style cream and black dress, reminiscent of Audrey Hepburn, worn with the obligatory Rosie Dickens stilettoes.

  “Thank you,” I said. “That dress shows off your figure to perfection. Is it new?”

  “Of course,” she said, mildly outraged. “You don’t think I’d wear an old dress to my best friend’s wedding do you? I wouldn’t want to look like the poor relation.”

  “I don’t think you could ever look poor. You ooze affluence from every angle.”

  “Why, thank you,” she said, and she held out her skirt and curtseyed.

  “Anyway,” I said, “you look beautiful, and I love that flower in your hair.”

  She looked me up and down, then getting down on her knees again, fiddled with the hem.

  “I hope Max knows how lucky he is.”

  “Well I feel super lucky to have him too.” I peered down, wishing she’d finish fussing so I could relax.

  “Mmmm, can’t argue with that.” She sniffed. “You’re making me cry.” Rosie reached for the tissues on the bedside table, dabbed her eyes and blew her nose. “I should have known I’d need waterproof mascara.” She sighed.

  “I feel so grown up Rosie, but I know this is it. I don’t think I’ll ever look at another man again.”

  I stood before the full-length mirror and smiled. My ivory silk dress fitted as though it had been tailor made for me, and even with the bodice tightly buttoned up, I could breathe. The shoulders to ankle sheath dress was strapless, save for some embroidered lace that ran over my shoulders. Delicate beading sewn in spirals adorned the bodice and the long train. It had been the first dress I’d tried on at the wedding boutique in Ullapool and the only alteration they’d made had been to nip it in at the waist.

  My chocolaty hair fell long and loose in soft curls with a few tendrils pulled lightly back and held with a white pearl hair clip. I’d borrowed a sky-blue jewelled choker from my mother and it sparkled in the sunlight that streamed through the window. My cream satin shoes had a deliberately low kitten heel, as I planned to dance all evening.

  Rosie reached for her glass of sparkling wine. “Do you know who you remind me of?”

  “No…who?”

  “You look like a young Anni-Frid, from Abba? Your neck of the woods, well Scandia anyway.”

  “Thanks, I think. Not when she had the frizzy perm I hope,” I said, with a frown.

  “I dunno, your hair is kinda similar.” She chuckled. “It’s more her colouring and statuesque beauty. Trust me, it’s a compliment.” She downed the rest of her wine and immediately refilled our glasses.

  “Hope I don’t start Chquitita-ing down the aisle,” I said, and giggled.

  “I love that one,” said Rosie. “I can be Agnetha.”

  “I wonder what Max will be wearing,” I said. “We haven’t coordinated outfits, though I did say I was going for a traditional look.”

  “He could turn up in his hard hat and steel capped boots, and you’d fall to your knees,” then she winked and added. “Mm-mmm… maybe only his hard hat and boots.”

  “Pass me my wine, Rosie. I need to settle my nerves.”

  She handed me the glass. “Milady. You don’t seem overly nervous for a girl about to sign away sex with any other men - for life.”

  I feigned shock. “Rosie! I’m not the slightest bit nervous about marrying Max. It’s what I want more than anything.” I swallowed a large mouthful of wine. “I’m more nervous about meeting his family. I haven’t met his parents yet, and his poor dad can’t even come today.”

  I didn’t mention Max’s resistance to me meeting them and I hoped none of that was apparent. I wanted Rosie to think the best of him. Even I held onto that impression of perfection in Max.

  “I wanted to meet his mum last night, but they weren’t arriving until late, and Max has put them up at the Red Lion.” I picked up Rosie’s designer fragrance and sprayed my cleavage. “I don’t know why she couldn’t stay here. It’s so much nicer.”

  “Maybe he wanted to see her. And he couldn’t stay here could he?”

  “True.”

  “Why can’t his dad come? I bet Max is gutted.”

  “He’s agoraphobic, can’t leave the house. Been that way for a couple of years.” I sat down at the dressing table and watched Rosie’s reflection as she lay back on the four-poster bed. “Sometimes he goes to the local shop to buy a paper, but that’s it. He won’t even go out in the car.” I sipped my wine. “It’s so sad, and apparently counselling hasn’t helped.” I twisted round to face her. “Max has been back to see what he could do to help but his mum doesn’t want him worrying about them so she sends him back sharpish. I’ve offered to visit, but since I’ve started my job it’s been full on. I
didn’t think I should be taking a holiday so soon, knowing I’d need time off for the wedding and honeymoon. You know how it is?”

  “True, though you should try to remember what matters in life Kat. You know, family and friends should always come first,” said Rosie, and stuck one long, slim leg in the air and then the other to smooth out her stockings.

  “You are wise Rosie. I’ll try to remember that when I’m traipsing around getting lost on some godforsaken moor.”

  “Is that what you do then, spend your days in the wilds?” Rosie grimaced, horrified at the thought.

  “I suppose I do, especially at the moment. It’s about understanding what they do at grassroots level, seeing it all, and so much of it is in remote places. On Thursday I was clearing out a channel at Loch Durness, and the day before we were a hundred miles away in Cape Wrath.”

  “Really? It sounds horrendous.”

  “Last week I slept in a bunkhouse on Skye for two nights which isn’t ideal with all the house stuff going on, and Max hates it.”

  “I’m sure Max can entertain himself for a night or two,” she said.

  “Of course. Anyway, I love it. It’s my dream job.”

  “You always were the outdoorsy type. Not one for worrying about your freshly manicured nails, huh?”

  “Life’s too short for that. Anyway, I’d struggle to get my nails done here, don’t think there’s a beauty salon for a hundred miles or so.” I studied my self-varnished nails, and picked at the odd imperfection.

  “There is one,” she said. “Got mine done yesterday at Salon 28.”

  “Really, they do nails? I suppose I should have made the effort. Still, I’ve varnished them,” I said, displaying my fingers.

  Rosie jumped off the bed to take a closer look. “Is that clear nail polish? On your wedding day! You’re a class act Kat,” she said, and showed me her long, perfectly manicured blood red nails.