Gone Astray

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Gone Astray Page 17

by Michelle Davies


  ‘That’s not what I said. You’re twisting my words.’

  Maggie knew she hadn’t twisted anything and wanted to make sure Umpire knew it too. She didn’t want him thinking she’d got Kathryn’s statement confused. But when she tried to speak again, he shot her a warning look.

  ‘That’s enough, DC Neville.’

  Across the table, Kathryn smirked.

  Umpire had parked his car on the drive at Angel’s Reach and he and Maggie walked back there in silence. She was desperate to discuss the interview with him but reluctant to speak first. It wasn’t a fear of leaping in and saying the wrong thing that made her hesitate, more that he might not actually care what she thought. But by the time they arrived at the gates of Angel’s Reach, her desire to know what he was thinking got the better of her.

  ‘What was your impression of Kathryn, sir?’

  Umpire looked at her with something approaching surprise, as though her question was unexpected. Maggie realized his mind was elsewhere and not on the interview at all.

  ‘I don’t think Rosie accusing Kathryn of bullying has anything to do with her going missing,’ he said distractedly.

  They came to a halt by his car.

  ‘Kathryn was behaving oddly though,’ said Maggie. ‘Yesterday she was in pieces, but today she’s calmer than pond water.’

  ‘So because she pulled herself together before being questioned we should be suspicious?’

  ‘Sir, she didn’t know you were coming until ten minutes before you turned up. And did you see her face when you read the email out?’

  Umpire scratched his scalp roughly with his fingertips. The folds of skin beneath his eyes were dark and puffy, a sure sign of fatigue. Maggie knew from working with him previously that he wouldn’t rest until Rosie was found, even if that meant not going home and sleeping in the office.

  ‘What if she was lying? I still don’t think it’s relevant. You heard Matheson: the amount of blood found on Rosie’s skirt suggests a serious injury and there’s the condom lubricant trace to consider too. You really think Kathryn had anything to do with that?’ His voice grew firmer as he warmed to his theme. ‘You think she somehow spirited an injured Rosie away, leaving barely a trace of her behind? Has she got magical powers we can’t see?’

  He was mocking her, but Maggie wouldn’t rise to it.

  ‘I’m not saying she’s responsible, sir. I just think she might know more than she’s letting on.’

  ‘I disagree. I think the key to this lies with what’s left of the fifteen million in Mack and Lesley’s bank account. The crayon writer’s already made that clear enough. That’s what we need to stay focused on.’ He fumbled in his trouser pocket for his car keys, unlocked the vehicle and folded his lanky frame into the driver’s seat, but left the door open for a moment.

  ‘So that’s it with Kathryn?’ asked Maggie.

  ‘Until something more concrete turns up, yes.’

  But Maggie couldn’t let it drop.

  ‘Can we at least check she did go to the stables after leaving Rosie yesterday? You said yourself that we had to rule everything out.’

  ‘I’d put fifteen million on her alibi panning out.’ He gave her a weary look. ‘Okay, I’ll have someone verify it.’

  ‘Thank you, sir.’

  ‘Now, tell me again about your interview with Lesley. You said she was surprised Suzy Breed’s name came up?’

  Apart from a snatched conversation when she’d arrived at the station for the press conference with Mack and Lesley, this was the first opportunity she’d had to brief him because the reward had distracted them all. He listened intently as she repeated her conversation with Lesley about Suzy Breed and mentioned Belmar overhearing the Kinnocks rowing about money.

  ‘Well, Lesley’s wrong about Suzy Breed being in New Zealand. She arrived back in Britain mid-April and is staying at her mother’s address in Falkirk.’

  ‘Shit. So Mack could’ve been with her instead of staying at the hotel.’

  ‘Officers from Forth Valley have been round there but there was no sign of her. They’re going back later.’

  ‘Are you going to interview him about it now?’

  ‘And ask him what exactly?’ Umpire snapped.

  ‘About him and Suzy.’

  ‘Frankly, I don’t care if he’s having an affair with half of bloody Scotland. All I care about is what’s relevant to the investigation and I don’t think him sneaking off to meet an ex-girlfriend is. We’ve had a threatening letter from someone who’s made it very clear they know about the blood on Rosie’s skirt and phone records put both Mack and Suzy four hundred miles from Haxton at the time Rosie went missing. Suzy Breed isn’t going to help us find Rosie, but the crayon writer will. So let’s worry about that, shall we?’

  Maggie recoiled from his outburst and, as she floundered for something to say, a black Mercedes-Benz minivan slowed to a halt outside the gate. Driving was a young man with streaked blond hair and an overbite that diluted his good looks. He waved at them before pulling away.

  ‘I wonder who that was,’ said Maggie.

  ‘Security patrol,’ said Umpire. ‘He’s been helping to man the main gate with our officers. The firm’s called Umbra, which is Latin for “shadow” and it’s a good fit. It doesn’t like to advertise itself, hence the unmarked vehicle.’

  ‘Everyone working for the firm has been questioned, haven’t they?’

  He shot her a disparaging look and she quailed again.

  ‘Your friend DC Berry took the statements. None of them reported anything out of the ordinary.’ He stuck his key in the ignition then paused. ‘Should the Kinnocks stay somewhere else tonight with everything that’s going on? I want the back garden and Rosie’s room to stay sealed off for the time being.’

  ‘I’ll suggest it, sir, but I think Lesley will want to stay put just in case Rosie turns up.’

  ‘Much as I’d love that to happen, DC Neville, I don’t think she’s going to stroll back in asking what’s for tea,’ he said grimly. ‘But we will find her, wherever she is and whatever state she’s in.’

  His eyes locked on hers and she hated that she knew what he meant. Cases involving children were always the worst.

  ‘But seriously, let’s think about moving the parents. They must have friends they can stay with.’

  ‘I don’t think anyone around here other than the Stocktons would take them in and I’m guessing that’s not a good idea now.’

  ‘No, it’s not.’

  ‘Lesley’s got one close friend back in Mansell but she’s away until the weekend. But I’m not sure that’s a good idea anyway – the friend lives on the Corley estate and the press could get to them too easily there.’

  ‘A hotel then. There’s that place the other side of Mansell, what’s it called? Reuben House. Very expensive, very popular with pop stars and footballers, so I’m told. EuroMillions winners should fit right in.’

  ‘Is it really necessary to move them, sir? Lesley’s pretty fragile right now and I think it would unsettle her even more.’

  Umpire started the engine.

  ‘If that’s what you think as their FLO, then fine, they can stay put for now. But make sure you log I suggested it, Neville. I wouldn’t want another conversation to be forgotten.’

  She smarted. ‘Of course, sir.’

  ‘In the meantime, tell Lesley about Rosie’s email to Cassie. I want to know if it changes her view about her and Kathryn’s friendship.’

  He was about to pull the driver’s door shut when his phone rang. Maggie stepped back while he took the call, so it didn’t seem like she was eavesdropping. His side of the conversation was brief – yes, no, yes, no – and when he ended the call she was surprised to see him grip the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles went white.

  ‘That was the High Tech Crime Unit. They’ve recovered an explicit picture downloaded to Rosie’s iPad a month ago. It had been deleted but was still on the hard drive.’

  ‘Of what?’<
br />
  ‘Of her.’ He turned off the engine and got out of the car. ‘They’re sending it to me now.’

  The picture arrived almost instantly by email and it was as explicit as Maggie feared. It showed Rosie lying topless on a bed. She wore a pair of lime-green strappy sandals with vertiginous heels and even though she had knickers on, her legs were splayed open, leaving nothing to the imagination.

  ‘It’s definitely her,’ said Maggie despondently. Then she took a closer look at Rosie’s face, which was plastered in thick make-up. Her eyes were shut. ‘Sir, she looks out of it to me.’

  Looking at the photograph more closely, the lines around his eyes becoming more pronounced as he squinted, Umpire agreed.

  ‘I think you’re right. If she was drunk or even drugged, she might not have been aware the picture was taken until she got hold of it. HTCU are trying to see where it originated from, but they’re saying she hasn’t mentioned its existence in any email or text she’s received in the past six months, or on any of her social media accounts. They’re having to start from scratch to find the source.’ He looked at the picture again and glowered. ‘My daughter’s ten and has just got her first mobile and already she’s had other kids texting her asking her to send them pictures of herself like this. Technology and the Internet are turning our kids into amateur porn stars.’

  ‘My nephew Jude is the same age as your daughter and I know he’s seen stuff no child should ever be exposed to,’ said Maggie. ‘My sister has parental controls on their home computer and he doesn’t have Internet access on his phone but other kids in his class do, so he sees it anyway.’

  ‘It makes me want to lock my daughter up until she’s at least eighteen,’ said Umpire, looking troubled.

  ‘Maybe that’s why Mack’s strict with Rosie, because he knows what teenagers get up to these days and it worries him. Sexting’s so widespread that kids think it’s normal behaviour.’

  ‘This picture proves he’s right to be fearful. It’s going to be difficult to work out where it was taken and who by. There’s not much to go on in the background.’

  ‘Hang on, what’s that?’ said Maggie, pointing to the right-hand edge of the photo.

  ‘I can’t see anything.’

  ‘Just there, see? It looks like a shadow but it’s actually fabric, dark blue or even black. Maybe it’s clothing, sir.’

  Umpire squinted at the photograph again. ‘You’re right. I can see it now. I’ll have HTCU magnify the picture, see if they can work out exactly what it is. Well spotted, Neville.’

  His praise fell on deaf ears though, as Maggie was more concerned with what happened next.

  ‘Do we tell the Kinnocks about it? God knows how they’ll react.’

  ‘No, let’s keep it from them until we’ve got more to go on. But see the shoes she’s wearing? Find out from Lesley if they’re Rosie’s.’

  ‘I doubt it very much. A short skirt is one thing, but I think Lesley would baulk at buying shoes like that for Rosie to wear behind Mack’s back.’

  ‘Exactly. So if they’re not Rosie’s, whose are they?’

  29

  As she went in search of Lesley, it dawned on Maggie that it wasn’t the size of Angel’s Reach that was so unsettling, but its stillness. It was so quiet she could hear her every breath as she walked back through the house. It was hardly surprising, she decided, that Lesley was so out of kilter with her surroundings. How discomfiting Angel’s Reach must be after living on the Corley estate, where the streets and houses were so tightly knitted together that you could practically hear someone sneeze three doors away.

  When Maggie lived on the estate as a child, it throbbed with the noise of kids playing outside, neighbours shouting to one another over garden fences, all-night parties and cars shrieking up and down the roads with boy racers behind the wheel. It was vibrant, exciting and probably the reason why the trains running below her town-centre flat never bothered her. She liked background noise and craved it. She could never live somewhere like Angel’s Reach, or Haxton for that matter. The village was too rural for her, surrounded as it was by acres of protected green space and not much else. Until this case, she’d only ever ventured there on two other occasions, the first being when she was six and her parents took her and Lou to the toy museum in the village centre. Her abiding memory of the trip was not being able to understand why all the toys were trapped behind glass and not free to be played with.

  She found Lesley perched on the top step of the terrace. The lawn was still taped off. Maggie was surprised to see she was smoking.

  ‘Are you okay?’ she said.

  Lesley was mid-way through taking a drag and motioned with her free hand for Maggie to sit down. After a second she exhaled loudly, sending a thin wisp of smoke across the lawn.

  ‘I haven’t smoked a cigarette for twenty years but suddenly I was desperate for one. One of your lot outside gave me this.’ Lesley took one last drag then ground the butt into the flagstone step. ‘That was disgusting,’ she sighed. With an unsteady hand, she pushed her hair off her face. It hung in rat’s tails where she hadn’t combed it properly after her earlier shower. She’d also changed out of the dress and cardigan and back into the denim skirt and navy T-shirt. Maggie asked her why.

  ‘I want everything to be like it was when Rosie went,’ Lesley said, keeping her gaze trained on the firs at the bottom of the garden.

  ‘It’s so quiet round here,’ Maggie commented, after they’d sat in silence for a while. ‘It must take some getting used to after the Corley.’ When Lesley gave her a quizzical look, Maggie explained she’d once lived on the estate too. ‘We were on Sherwood Street.’

  ‘I know it – it’s on the other side from where we were. Yes, it’s very different. Sometimes when Rosie and Mack are out I stand out here and everything’s so silent I imagine myself the only living, breathing creature for miles. I’ve always said this house is far too big for the three of us.’ She gave Maggie another sideways glance. ‘You still haven’t found her, have you? You would’ve said if you had.’

  ‘No, we haven’t. I know it’s frustrating and it must feel like it’s going at a snail’s pace but really it’s not. Everyone’s working round the clock and dozens of leads are being investigated. We won’t stop until we find her.’

  Lesley nodded. ‘I know. I just can’t get my head around the fact she’s not back yet. I keep expecting her to bowl through the front door like nothing’s happened and ask what all the fuss is about. I’m scared because the longer it goes on, the more numbed I feel. I keep thinking I should be crying and screaming and tearing down walls or something, but I just feel flat and empty.’

  Maggie listened to Lesley’s outpouring but made no reply, conscious she wasn’t supposed to counsel her. The air began to fill with drizzle and the dark clouds hanging low overhead suggested it would soon turn to rain.

  ‘Shall we go inside?’ asked Maggie.

  ‘I’m fine out here,’ said Lesley, even though her arms were dappled with goosebumps. Maggie, in a short-sleeved, white cotton shirt, had no choice but to stay put too. She hugged her arms tightly to her sides.

  ‘There’s something else I need to discuss with you,’ she said, trying not to shiver.

  ‘Is it about Kathryn? Belmar said you’d gone round to talk to her. He and Mack are upstairs in the study with a man from your press office, talking about the reward. Apparently it will be difficult to retract it, but if Mack makes up some sob story about saying the wrong amount because of the stress he’s under we might be able to get away with reducing it.’ She shook her head.

  ‘Isn’t that what you want?’

  ‘Part of me is starting to think Mack’s right. Why shouldn’t we offer what we want to get Rosie back?’ Lesley sighed again. ‘I wish we hadn’t won a single penny. I wish that instead of buying that bloody ticket I’d done what I was going to do and spent the money on a KitKat. But I was on a diet.’

  Maggie tried not to smile but couldn’t help it.
r />   ‘I know, it’s mad, isn’t it? Right now I’d rather be fat than rich. Oh, I know what you must be thinking: You’re wealthy, how hard can it be? But money divides people,’ said Lesley bitterly. ‘What I’ve learned in this past year is that people who have money like to think they’re better than those who don’t, and those who aren’t wealthy think people who are always flaunt it. It’s impossible trying to please everyone.’

  ‘So why bother? Why not ignore what other people think and just enjoy the money?’

  ‘That’s easier said than done. People can be vicious.’

  ‘Like the people round here?’ said Maggie, curious to know what living in a place like Haxton meant for a lower-middle-class family like the Kinnocks.

  Lesley nodded. ‘It’s difficult. People look down their noses at us because of where we’re from. There’s this unspoken snobbery that we’re not good enough for Haxton. If it wasn’t for Rosie’s exams, I’d move again.’ She paused. ‘Sorry, you wanted to ask me something, didn’t you? Instead I’ve been going on about KitKats and moaning about money.’

  ‘It’s fine, I was happy to listen. But you’re right, I do want to talk about Kathryn. Although, before we do,’ she began tentatively, ‘can I just ask if Rosie owns any high-heeled sandals? Lime-coloured?’

  Lesley raised an eyebrow. ‘No, and frankly they sound hideous.’

  ‘Okay, I thought as much.’

  ‘Why are you asking?’

  ‘I can’t tell you at this stage, I’m sorry.’

  Lesley shrugged resignedly. Maggie knew it wasn’t because she didn’t care, but because she understood and trusted there was a very good reason not to tell her yet. It made Maggie’s job much easier: the hardest cases were when relatives were so suspicious they refused to let anything lie.

  ‘So, about Kathryn. Have you ever had concerns about her and Rosie’s friendship?’

  ‘None at all. She’s lovely.’

  ‘How often do they see each other out of school?’

  ‘I’d say pretty much every day, usually when they’re riding. Rosie’s a bit scared of horses but she still goes. All the girls she knows ride.’

 

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