She stood by the fire, warming herself for a few moments before taking the chair opposite him.
‘You look good,’ he said, watching as she removed her jacket. ‘I like your hair.’
‘You didn’t get me here to tell me that.’
‘No.’ He looked nervously around. ‘The police rang. They want to interview me.’
‘So?’
‘So, I need to know what to say. How much you’ve told them. Do they know ... everything?’
She was tempted to let him stew on it, but, ‘I didn’t tell them you knocked me around, if that’s what you mean. I felt it would probably only complicate matters when we need them to concentrate on any new leads they might find.’
‘Good. My thoughts exactly. I don’t want the bastards wasting their time knocking at my door again.’
Hannah stared at him, her eyes hard. ‘If anything were to come to light that made me begin to doubt you, I’d tell them everything – you know that don’t you?’
‘Well you won’t find anything,’ he dismissed. ‘And neither will they. Anyway, what about our agreement? You agreed to keep silent if I moved out. Are you going back on your word now?’
There was a hint of menace to his tone that instantly jabbed at the ball of unease coiled in her stomach.
‘No, but…’
‘Good.’ His voice was perfectly smooth again. ‘It’s irrelevant anyway. You know I wouldn’t have hurt her. And I’ve changed. Only you seemed to have that effect on me. I was just stressed with the new job and everything. I still think about you, you know.’
Incredibly, his voice had softened, his eyes doing that thing of looking at her as if she was the only woman in the world. ‘What we had was really special,’ he said, reaching for her fingers. ‘They say you never forget your first love.’
She moved her hand before he could get a grip.
‘What we had was toxic and destructive,’ she said coldly, ‘and it was the best thing for both of us that we got out of it. Was there anything else you wanted to talk to me about before I leave? I don’t want to see you again after this.’
She saw anger flicker briefly in his eyes before he masked it again.
‘I don’t know what to say to the police.’
‘Say what you want. You could even try telling the truth, though I doubt that somehow. They’ll probably ask you why we split up. I told them the pressure of it all got too much for us.’
‘Well, that was certainly true.’ His expression was bitter as he took a swig from his beer. ‘Anyway, it probably won’t be her so there’s no point getting worked up about it. I’m getting married by the way – in September. I could do without all this rearing its ugly head.’
She wanted to ask him whether he hit his fiancée too, but she refrained. It all seemed such a long time ago now and irrelevant. Looking at him, it suddenly dawned on her. She was over him. She was free.
No-one, when she’d finally told people what he was like, had been able to comprehend the incredible power he seemed to wield over her. Neither had she. And breaking free of it had been hard, especially with all the problems surrounding Sophie’s disappearance. Yet somehow, she’d done it. Found the strength to tell him it was over.
And now she could see him exactly for what he was. A manipulating bully. She felt a sudden sympathy for the unknown woman.
‘How’s your mother?’ Ben asked, changing the subject.
Hannah’s response was curt. ‘She’s fine. Everything’s good.’
‘You got over your nervous breakdown then?’
‘It wasn’t a breakdown, Ben. I reacted no differently than any other mother in those circumstances. I’m fine now.’
She felt an urgent need to escape. Seeing him tonight was bringing everything back, tightening that twist in her gut. ‘I can’t stop long, so unless there’s anything else you wanted to say?’
He shrugged. ‘Not really. I just wanted to know what you’d said to the police and to see you again – for old time’s sake.’
Before she realised his intention, he snaked a hand out to trace a finger lightly along the back of her hand. ‘You’re still in my system, Han. You’ll always hold a special place in my heart, you know that don’t you?’
‘Don’t.’ She snatched her hand away, scraping her chair back as she arose abruptly from the table and stared coldly down at him.
‘Don’t contact me again, Ben. I have no feelings left for you and there’s certainly no place for you in my heart. I don’t think I can state the situation any clearer than that.’
She didn’t wait to see his response before she turned and walked away.
It took her the whole journey home to calm herself down. He hadn’t changed at all, she realised. It left her feeling deeply unsettled.
Climbing out of her car, her mood took a further dive when she saw a rather disgruntled looking police sergeant waiting for her outside her house.
‘Ah, Miss Walker, at last. Sergeant Briscombe, if you remember?’
The fact that she was still on edge made Hannah’s voice sharper than she intended. ‘Of course I remember. But it’s late. Is it urgent? I have to be up early in the morning.’
‘I won’t keep you a minute and I have been waiting here the last hour or more. Did you not get the voicemail I left? I asked you to call me back if it wasn’t convenient for me to come tonight.’
‘Oh. No, I’m sorry. My phone must be on silent.’
She walked up the path and he followed her into her flat, waiting patiently while she switched on the lights and removed her coat.
‘Meeting a friend, were you?’
Did he somehow know?
‘Yes. Do you have a problem with that?’
‘Not at all. I’m sure socialising at a time like this helps keep your mind off things.’
He made it sound as if she’d been out partying for heaven’s sake.
‘I don’t know what you expect me to say but I was suspended from my job today and I needed to get out. And I’d have been a hermit for the last six years if I’d put my life on hold waiting for all this to be resolved. Now what can I do for you?’
He looked at her and she saw genuine sympathy in his eyes. ‘I’m sorry to hear about the job, that’s tough.’ He pulled out his notebook. ‘It’s regarding the post mortem on the baby.’
Hannah blanched. ‘Have ... have you identified it?’
‘No not yet. But I do need to ask you something. Did your daughter sustain any physical injury that you were aware of?’
Hannah frowned. ‘No. Why?’
‘I just need to ask. Was she a good baby?’
‘What do you mean by that?’
‘Well, did she cry a lot? Keep you awake at nights?’
‘Sometimes.’ Hannah’s voice was guarded as if she suspected him of trying to trip her up. ‘But no worse than any other baby, I’m sure.’
‘Did you ever get angry with her?’
‘No.’
‘You sound very sure. Not many mothers could be as unequivocal as that.’
‘Well, not many other mothers only have their babies with them for three weeks,’ Hannah retorted. ‘I remember every day, every hour of the time I had with Sophie. And yes, I did get tired, and yes, she did cry sometimes. But I never got to the point where I felt I couldn’t cope, if that’s what you’re asking.’
‘I suppose it is, Miss Walker. You’ve admitted that she kept you awake at night, and we all know how exhausting that can be. You never got ... impatient with her?’
‘No.’
‘Or your boyfriend?’
Hannah’s stare was direct. ‘No.’
‘I’m sorry I have to ask these questions but the post mortem’s revealed that one of the baby’s arms was fractured. Obviously, we’d like to get to the bottom of that.’
Hannah found she was trembling so much she had to sit down.
‘She was so tiny,’ she whispered. ‘How could anyone have hurt her?’
‘No accident that
you can think of that might have caused such an injury?’
‘No! I’d have known if that was the case.’
The thought of it … of someone being violent towards Sophie.
‘Are you all right, Miss Walker?’
‘Yes.’ She pulled herself together with an enormous effort. ‘Was there anything else you wanted to ask?’
‘No. I’m sorry if this has upset you, but obviously it’s a line of enquiry we have to pursue.’ He snapped his notebook shut. ‘Thanks for coming down with your DNA sample earlier. We’ll process it as quickly as we can, but it can take a while I’m afraid.’
‘I thought that sort of thing was quite quick these days?’
Harry’s hesitation was noticeable. ‘It’s the circumstances,’ he said gently. ‘I’m afraid it takes longer matching DNA to a skeleton than it would to a living person or body. But we’ll do our best to get it processed as quickly as possible and we’ll let you know as soon as the results are through. Thanks for your time.’
Hannah shut the door behind him and sank back down onto the settee. A fractured arm? Could that have happened without her knowing? Or maybe it had happened after she’d been taken? She couldn’t bear to even think about that. She tried to think back. Had Sophie been crying more? A little maybe. She remembered one day in particular when she’d been difficult to settle; but surely not as difficult as she would have been if her arm had been broken?
A small moan escaped her. She’d always convinced herself that it was someone who loved Sophie that had taken her; someone maybe who couldn’t have a child of their own. But what if her daughter had been condemned to some terrible life where she was desperately unhappy, physically abused? Or, even worse, what if she really was dead? The desperate hope she’d been clinging to all these years crushed forever in the harsh reality of that tiny grave?
She jumped up from her chair. No! She wouldn’t believe it. Sophie was alive. And until she had proof to the contrary, she wouldn’t even consider the alternative.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
She woke exhausted and sweating the next morning. For the first time in months her nightmare had returned. It had always been the same – Sophie being snatched by a stranger, her chasing after them screaming, trying to get her back. Only the faster she tried to run the more it felt like she was wading through deep, thick mud, her leaden legs dragging impossibly behind her as the gap between her and her daughter widened.
But this time the dream had been different. It was no stranger running off with Sophie. This time he had a face. It was Ben.
No. Why was she thinking this now? She hadn’t seriously considered it before – had totally rejected the notion that Ben could have murdered his own child – that she could have fallen in love with a man who was capable of doing something like that. But could she have been wrong?
She peered at the alarm clock by her bed. Half past five. She knew she wouldn’t be able to get back to sleep now and there was no way she was going to lie here tormenting herself for the next two hours.
Throwing back the bedclothes, she swung herself out of bed. It was Friday - not her usual cleaning day; but she spent the next two hours spring-cleaning the flat until it gleamed.
Only one room missed her ministrations. She opened the door hesitantly and stood on the threshold. One day, she thought looking around, she’d have to deal with this, but – she closed the door quietly and headed for the kitchen. It wouldn’t be today.
The postman came just as she was about to leave for Jessie’s and she flicked idly through the envelopes intending to leave them on the hall table for her return. But one pink envelope caught her attention, the handwriting slanted and messy, unfamiliar. She flipped it open, pulling out the contents and staring at them in bemusement.
Several locks of blond hair tied neatly in a pretty pink bow. The note was short and to the point.
I thought you might be worried by all the media attention. Your daughter is happy and thriving. If you want her to stay that way don’t take this letter to the police.
Hannah’s eyes fixed on the words in disbelief, reading them over and over again. Then her gaze shifted incredulously to the strands of hair in her hand and she lifted them slowly to her cheek. She could still smell the faint clean scent of shampoo and just for a moment she allowed herself the indulgence of believing that these really were Sophie’s locks. She breathed in deeply, seeking a connection however tenuous, to a little girl – possibly her little girl – growing up somewhere out there, without her. Was it some sick hoaxer, cashing in on the publicity? God knew there’d been enough of them the first time around. She fingered the strands gently. She couldn’t get enough of them. They were so silky.
Her lips began to tremble. How could anyone be so cruel?
The tears gathered pace and for once she let them run their course - her hopeless sobs echoing through the empty silence of her flat. When it was over she rubbed her eyes roughly and sat for a long time just looking at the locks of hair in her hand - at those few scrawling words so carelessly written.
If you want her to stay that way, don’t take this letter to the police.
She didn’t know what to do. She didn’t want to risk any harm coming to her daughter if she was still alive, yet on the other hand, maybe there was something there that was relevant that the police could trace. The handwriting for example, or fingerprints? Maybe they could match it up to some other sample on their records, far-fetched though it may sound?
Or the postmark? Quickly she scanned the envelope, but the postmark was illegible giving nothing away as to where the letter had originated from.
She needed time to think.
Replacing the contents carefully in the envelope, she put them on the hall table and moved into the kitchen to refresh her face with water from the tap. Then picking up her bag she headed for the front door.
***
Harry walked down the road of large converted Victorian houses in Hampstead and decided that Ben Short was obviously doing all right for himself. It was an upmarket area. Stockbrokers were still obviously making a bob or two despite the bad press. And still obviously enjoying a relatively non-taxing life-style – Harry had offered to visit him in the evening after work but he’d been perfectly happy to be interviewed at home during the day. It was a different world, no two ways about it.
The front door was opened by a pretty young woman with mousy brown hair. She was dressed casually in jeans and a warm jumper and looked no more than about eighteen.
‘Ben’s just changing,’ she said, looking at him curiously when he explained who he was. ‘I’m his fiancé, Becky Davies. Is he expecting you?’
‘Uh … yes. He didn’t tell you?’
‘He never tells me anything,’ she said sulkily. ‘But you’d better come in. He won’t be a minute.’
On the mantelpiece was a photo of the girl with a man. Blond hair was combed carefully back from a smilingly handsome face as he stood with one arm draped carelessly around her shoulder. He was dressed impeccably in expensive looking trousers and an open necked shirt. He also looked a good ten years older than his fiancée.
‘Is that Mr Short?’ he asked the girl.
‘Yes. What do you want to see him about? Is it to do with the baby that was found?’
‘Get the Sergeant and myself a cup of tea will you, Becky?’ Ben’s voice interrupted smoothly from the door, ‘and then perhaps you’d like to take Bruno for a walk? Ben Short,’ he said, walking into the room and offering Harry his hand. ‘What can I do for you?’
Harry took quick stock of him and decided that the profile they had of him on file was right. He was a smooth customer.
‘Just a few questions if you don’t mind. I believe someone’s been in touch with you about the baby’s skeleton that was found near Hertford?’
‘Yes … eventually. They took their time about it. Do you think it’s Sophie?’
‘We don’t know yet. I’m afraid there’s a chance it could be which is why I�
�m here. Just wanted to straighten up a few facts. You were living with your girlfriend Hannah Walker at the time of your daughter’s disappearance?’
‘Yes.’
‘I’m aware you’ve already answered these questions and I’ll try to keep them brief, but it helps if we form our own impressions in cases like these. It sometimes enables us to view things from a different angle. Can you confirm to me where you were when she went missing?’
‘In my car on the way to see a client.’
‘And how did you learn of her disappearance?’
‘Hannah left a message on my mobile. I picked it up when I pulled into the client’s car park.’
And did you meet up with your client?’
‘Of course not. I drove straight home. Hannah was distraught.’
‘I should think you were pretty upset yourself?’
‘Of course. I was I didn’t mean that I wasn’t. It’s just that she was hysterical.’
‘I see. So, nobody actually saw you arrive at your destination before you turned around and went home again?’
‘No.’
‘Can you tell me the last time you saw your daughter?’
‘That morning before Han put her out for her nap.’
‘Are you sure about that?’
‘I think so. It was a long time ago now, but…’
‘Only according to our previous notes Miss Walker saw you leaning over the pram on your way out to the car, when you were leaving for your appointment.’
‘Oh, yes, that’s right. It was a long time ago now, as I say.’
‘And she was definitely in the pram when you left?’
‘Yes.’
‘So, in fact, you were the last person to see her before she disappeared?’
Ben’s eyes met his coolly. ‘I’ll tell you what I told the last lot. When I left the flat Sophie was safe in her pram. I have no idea what happened to her between then and when I got the call from Hannah.’
‘And you didn’t notice anyone hanging around when you left?’
‘No.’
‘Can you tell me why you and your ex-partner split up, Mr. Short?’
He would have had to be blind not to see the caution that entered Ben Short’s eyes.
Cry From The Grave A Thrilling Psychological Crime Mystery (Harry Briscombe Book 1) Page 9