Hundreds of questions whizzed through my mind, but I had no idea where to begin. I found it hard to believe it was possible to kidnap a child in this day and age and never get caught. "What did Mary say? She must have been distraught."
"You'd think so, wouldn't you? However, she was used to being passed around and she never batted an eyelid. She made one comment about her 'Mummy' after a couple of weeks then nothing else, and that's the truth."
I tried to imagine someone taking Emma. They'd probably bring her back after five minutes—she could be very vocal if her screams at the zoo were anything to go by.
Andrew continued, shocking me out of my daydream. "After about a year in France we came back. The media hype had settled, and since there'd been no recent photographs taken of Mary, prior to her going missing, no one ever recognised her.
We both had valid documents—illegal ones, but as real as you can get. Getting those kinds of documents is easy if you have the right connections and deep enough pockets.
I rented a basement flat in Tottenham and set up a technology company, working from home. With the training, I’d had and the job I was doing, there was no reason I’d ever get found.
I met Judy when Mary was almost five. She was a client, the editor at her parents' small newspaper, and we hit it off. I told her Mary was born in France and that her mum was an old girlfriend who'd left us over there. Mary had the cutest French accent and birth certificate to match and so she never had any reason to doubt me. Once we were married she took Mary on as her own."
Still standing at the window, Andrew put his hands shoulder-width apart on the glass above his head and leaned his body onto them, and his forehead touched the window. Pushing himself back, he spun away from the window and began pacing the floor.
"We never had any problems. Judy realised you and I had to be related when you arrived here yesterday. Mary did too. But neither of them knows the full story. Nobody does, except you."
"How the fuck could you do this to me, Andrew?" The enormity of his confession began sinking in. "I detested that baby. Detested everything about it. The months it grew inside me were the worst of my life." I glared at him, unable to control the words spewing from my mouth as I relived the memories of that awful time. "Whenever I felt it move I would be physically sick."
I noticed that I was digging my fingernails into my arms hard enough to draw blood. "Towards the end my whole stomach would move in the most obscene way. I often imagined a horrible alien would burst through my skin." I shuddered. My lungs felt as though they were filled with rocks, with no room left for air.
"She's not an alien, Mindy. Just an innocent little girl—so like you were at her age. She's not to blame for the awful abuse. She was just a by-product that's all."
I'd never allowed myself to think about the baby I'd given up. I'd never craved to hold it in my arms or gazed longingly at babies in the street. I'd blocked all those feelings.
I never even remembered her birthday.
I felt light-headed. If I'd been standing, I would definitely have toppled over. I lay backwards on the sofa, trying to calm my raging pulse. Suddenly, the vision of a timid, slight little thing with dark smudges under her eyes popped into my head and made my heart flutter. Mary was my daughter.
I couldn't take much more. The walls zoomed in and out at me and it felt as though my heart was stomping on my ribs.
Andrew was still standing at the window and turned to face me. "Are you all right, Mindy? You look terrible."
I glanced at him. The concern in his face made me melt. I'd dreamed of a loving reunion for years. Longed for him to turn up and look out for me as he used to. At nine and a half months older, he was my big brother and he'd always tried his best to protect me. Most of the beatings he'd received had been for defending me.
"I prayed for you to come home, but if I'm honest, I never imagined you would. The police even dug up the garden once, searching for you. I always feared the worst."
Sobs racked my body. How would we ever get over this? Although I understood the reasons for what he'd done, my brother was a murderer.
The tears began to slow. I glanced at Andrew, who had his back to me again. We had always looked very similar, often being mistaken for twins, which was a fact our dad had played on for the sick videos he’d produced.
Although he was a couple of inches taller than me now, he didn’t have a big build, and I understood how he managed to convince everyone he was me. His shapely, lean body filled out his skinny jeans and tee-shirt, the way most women only dreamed of doing. Blond hair tied at the nape of his neck was shorter than mine, but not by much. His hands were manicured and his eyebrows waxed. Add a bit of makeup and lose the stubble and I could have been looking at myself.
"Why did you do it? After all this time, why now?"
"When Dennis got out I watched him and I wondered if he'd actually changed at all. I bugged his room at the hostel and soon discovered he hadn't. Watching him trawl the internet for young girls knocked me sick and brought back all the old feelings. I easily lured him to me in a chat room. Once I got rid of him, though, I couldn't stop until our darling stepmother had paid too. Three stinking years she'd served for the part she played. It was a fucking joke!"
"What about Brian? Of all the people involved back then, he had been the least abusive. He hardly did anything."
"Just a fluke. The night you got home from the police station I'd just arrived and noticed the light on in your bedroom window, but your car wasn't there. The next thing I knew that detective bloke arrived and ended up chasing me through the garden. I doubled back and followed him home. I wasn't sure what to do about him. Nobody else had seen me and it kinda spoiled my plans. I sat outside his house and after a few minutes he rushed out again. I followed him to the station. You can imagine my surprise when Brian sauntered out as large as life a few hours later. I couldn't resist following him. He was the only other person I actually knew back then, and although he wasn't as bad as the others, he'd still got away with everything."
"So you killed him, just like that?" I clicked my fingers.
He nodded. "What will happen to me now, do you think?"
I shrugged. "If you turn yourself in, they'll go easier on you. Most people will understand why you did it. We had a horrendous childhood. I can vouch for that. We'll stick together, Andrew, like we should have done all along, and we'll get through this."
"What about Mary? I need to make sure she's cared for. I can't bear the thought of our beautiful daughter going into care."
"I'll do what I can, of course I will. I won't lie to you though, Andrew, I'm still in shock. But I'll do all I can. I promise."
Andrew turned to face me. Tears poured down his cheeks and he held his arms out towards me.
Standing up, I slowly stepped into them. I don't know how long we stayed that way. Maybe minutes, maybe hours; time didn't matter.
We started as the nurse called from the hallway. "Mr Pitt, come quick."
Andrew raced from the room. I followed close behind and got as far as Judy's bedroom door before I heard Andrew's stricken wail. "No, Judy. No! Wake up, my darling, wake up."
He had partially lifted Judy's lifeless body into his arms and buried his face in her hair. The sounds of his pain were too much for me to bear.
I walked out of the room and closed the door.
I couldn't get my head around everything I'd learned in the past few hours. Finding my brother after all these years was enough to blow my mind, but learning his daughter was, in fact, my daughter felt too much for my brain to compute.
I glanced at my watch and realised I'd been sitting here for almost an hour, curled up in the armchair and going over and over what Andrew told me.
I thought I should check in with Sandra, but couldn't find my phone. I must have left it behind. I knew the kids would be okay, although Michael was probably doing his nut.
I hadn't noticed much activity going on in the rest of the house since leaving Andrew
with Judy. Now I heard a buzzing coming from the hallway and I got up to investigate.
A white plastic box at the side of the front door had a small screen with a red light flashing in conjunction with the buzzing. I guessed it was the gate. The black-and-white image on the screen was very grainy because of the rain, but I could make out a vehicle. I pressed the most obvious button.
"Hello?"
"Doctor Kessler." A deep voice boomed from the speaker.
"Oh, erm, hang on …" I stuttered, pressing the only other button. The car moved out of view so I guessed the button had worked. I opened the front door.
Doctor Kessler was a tall Indian man in his twenties who splashed from the car with his briefcase held above his head. His cheap grey suit looked as though it had seen better days. He introduced himself to me, and I led him to Judy's room. I knocked before opening the door.
The nurse sat on the floor next to the sideboard packing away medical supplies from the bottom drawer into a red plastic box.
Judy lay on the bed. Her hair had been brushed and now framed her face. Her lips had a dark tinge to them and her skin a waxy sheen. Other than that she could have been asleep.
There was no sign of Andrew.
"Oh, Doctor, come in, come in." The nurse jumped up from her position on the floor.
The doctor began examining Judy.
"Do you know where Andrew is?" I asked the nurse.
"Who?"
"Andr— er. DJ."
"Mr Pitt left. He said to ask you to pick his daughter up from her friends. He said he'd left the address on his desk upstairs."
"No! He can't have left." My voice was louder than I'd intended and the doctor stopped to look around at me. "How long ago?" I asked.
"Fifteen-twenty minutes, I guess," she said, glancing at the clock at the side of the bed.
I took the stairs two at a time, my heart racing and my head throbbing. I couldn't believe Andrew would leave without speaking to me.
The first room I came to was obviously Mary's bedroom. The walls and bedding were all different shades of pink. Cuddly toys covered the bed, making me wonder how she managed to get in and out of it.
The next door was the master bedroom. A huge, solid-oak, antique bed took up most of the room. Quaint, Queen Anne bedside tables and two oak wardrobes, the only other furniture, were all neat and tidy except that the wardrobe door was wide open. Andrew must have gone through it in a hurry because I realised all his clothes were gone.
Through the last door on the landing I found the office. Compared to the rest of the antiquated cottage, this room blew me away. State-of-the-art equipment covered every wall. On the wall above the desk, I saw two flat-screen monitors and my stomach lurched. I stared at images of my kitchen and lounge.
I thought they were photographs at first, until I heard a familiar sound, and Michael walked into the kitchen. I watched as he dug his phone from his pocket and dialled a number. "Amanda, this is getting stupid now. You've made your point—call me." His voice was as clear as if I were standing in the room with him.
I was relieved in a way that my instincts had served me well, although I had thought the watching was happening outside, not inside my own home.
I wondered how long Andrew had been spying on us. I presumed he normally locked this door. He must have intended for me to see this today—otherwise he'd have switched the monitors off.
There was a walk-in-wardrobe on the back wall and I opened the door to see a line-up of familiar-looking women's clothing, the first garment, a red, collarless jacket. Confused, I pulled it towards me. Next came a blue shirt, then a Pink blouse, a navy skirt, pale-blue jeans, beige dress, midnight-blue velour dress, black trousers and a silver blouse. The list went on and on. My mouth dropped open. I could have been looking in my own wardrobe at home. Everything was exactly the same. He'd obviously been able to check out via the monitors what I wore on any particular day, and then dress accordingly.
An envelope leaned against the computer with my name on the front. Beside it was a notepad with an address and a scribbled message asking me to collect Mary. I folded the envelope, shoving it into the back pocket of my jeans, and tore the front page off the pad.
Back downstairs, the doctor was finishing off and came through to the kitchen to wash his hands. He placed a sheet of paper on the table. "You can contact the funeral directors now," he said.
"Okay, thanks." I don't know why I didn't tell him it was nothing to do with me; instead I smiled and walked him to the front door.
As the doctor's car left, another car sped into the driveway. Adam bolted from the vehicle and reached me at the front door in a couple of strides.
"Amanda, are you all right?" he said as two more police cars with their sirens blaring screeched to a stop behind Adam's.
"I—I'm okay."
"It's just … Andrew, your brother. I think he's the killer."
"I know, he told me." I stepped back and Adam followed me into the hall.
"What do you mean?" He grabbed me by the shoulders. "You need to stand outside. It's dangerous. Are Mrs Pitt and the girl inside?"
"Judy died. She's in the back room with the nurse. The doctor just left—Mary isn't here."
Adam barked some instructions to four uniformed officers. They ran up the front steps towards us before pushing their way into the house. They scanned the lounge, then two of them took the stairs while the other two ran towards the back of the house.
"Where is he, Amanda?" Adam turned back to me.
"He's gone."
"Gone where exactly?"
I shrugged. "I've got no idea."
Two of the officers reappeared in the hallway, shaking their heads at Adam, who barked more orders at them: "We need to search this property from top to bottom, including the grounds."
"There's no point, Adam," I said. "He's already gone. You're too late."
Chapter 43
Amanda
“Are you sure you don’t want me to come with you, sweetheart?” Sandra said.
“No, honestly. It’s a big help if you just collect the children after day-care, I don’t know how long we’ll be.”
“Course I will, love,” Sandra said as she loaded the breakfast dishes into the dishwasher.
As I swigged the last of my coffee, I wondered how I ever got by without this wonderful woman in my life.
Handing Sandra my cup, I rushed through to the hallway. “Mary, are you almost ready?” I called up the stairs.
“Won’t be a minute,” she replied in her quiet voice.
She’d been staying with us for the past two months and today we hoped to make her a fixture in our home by being granted a Permanent Residence Order.
I was, after all, her only living relative apart from her fugitive father. I hadn't told anybody about the confession Andrew made to me about Mary's past. She was just another victim in all this and I wanted to protect her from any more suffering.
Besides, what good would come of everybody knowing she was, as Andrew called it, the by-product of sexual abuse? To find out her father is her uncle, or maybe even her grandfather? No—as far as anybody needed to know, I was her aunt, end of story.
The doorbell rang and Emma came charging through from the kitchen.
“Calm down, Miss Em,” I said. “I’ll get it. You go and brush your teeth then help Grandma get Jacob ready for day-care.”
“Aw,” she said and huffed up the stairs.
I opened the door and was surprised to find Adam Stanley. He was dressed in jeans and a brown leather jacket.
My stomach gave a little twirl.
“Oh hello,” I said and smiled. “This is a nice surprise. Come on in.”
“No, it’s okay. I know you’re probably running around like a headless chicken. I just wanted to wish you luck for today–not that I think you need it, mind.”
“How nice of you to remember. Thanks, Adam, it means a lot, I said. “Are you sure I can’t tempt you to a cuppa? I have time.”
Adam had been calling in to see us every few days. At first I thought he was making sure Andrew wasn’t about, but now I wasn’t so sure.
“That would be lovely, Adam. Maybe we can open a bottle of sparkly grape juice to celebrate with the kids?”
“It’s a date then, I’ll bring the bubbles.” He laughed.
I watched as he walked down the path towards his car. The same animal attraction I’d first felt towards him hadn’t faded, I don’t know how I’d resisted him for so long.
The fact that Andrew hadn’t been caught made it awkward between us though. He’d vanished off the face of the earth, or so it seemed. He left no trace for the police to follow, having withdrawn five hundred thousand pounds in cash in the weeks leading up to his disappearance.
I knew he was close by. He was an expert at being invisible—he'd done it for long enough in the past. Now, without a young child to consider, it must be so much easier.
I still felt I was being watched from time to time, but instead of feeling scared and vulnerable, I felt safe and protected.
The letter he’d left for me explained everything that we'd discussed that day. He must have had it ready to give to me once Judy died. I was glad about that. At least I know he intended for me to find out he was alive. He said he didn't regret what he'd done. "Getting the scum off the streets" was how he described it.
I’d not had the cameras removed. I hoped he still checked in on us. And sometimes, when I was alone, I'd talk to him—tell him how Mary was doing and how much we missed him. There was no way of knowing if he heard me, but the chance he might was enough of a comfort.
Behind Shadows: A Psychological Mystery Thriller (The Adam Stanley Series Book 1) Page 22