Gone Astray

by Michelle Davies

  ‘Lesley, wait,’ said Maggie.

  ‘I’m going to see the Stocktons. I want to talk to Kathryn.’

  ‘I’m sorry, but you can’t.’

  Lesley turned on her.

  ‘Don’t tell me what I can and can’t do.’

  ‘I’m sorry, but in this instance I need to. It’s better for the time being if contact between you and the Stocktons is limited.’

  ‘Is this because of what you found on Rosie’s laptop?’

  ‘You know I can’t answer that.’

  Their stand-off was interrupted by Belmar’s arrival.

  ‘Is everything okay?’ he asked Maggie.

  She shook her head as her phone rang. ‘Umpire,’ she mouthed.

  Lesley shook with anger. They had no right to dictate who she spoke to.

  As Maggie turned away from her to talk on the phone, Belmar hovered at his colleague’s shoulder, eavesdropping. Neither noticed Lesley as she began to back away from them, towards the front door. Five seconds later she was gone.

  31

  It was going to be more difficult than he’d anticipated. The size of the crowd waiting outside, and the number of officers standing guard, surprised him. How stupid to think he’d be able to just drive through without being stopped, but it was too late to turn round now. They’d come after him if he did and start asking questions and he wasn’t prepared for that.

  As he drove slowly towards the security gate at the mouth of Burr Way, adrenaline surged through his veins and slammed into the base of his skull and he felt lightheaded and shaky. An inner voice told him to hold it together, stay calm. Don’t lose it at the first hurdle. Then he spotted a familiar face by the gate and broke into a broad grin. Oh, of all the people. Perfect.

  He brought the car to a halt inches from the gate and a police officer walked slowly round to his window, motioning for him to lower it.

  ‘Can I ask why you’re here, sir?’ said the officer in a not particularly friendly tone.

  Before he could say a word, another voice interrupted.

  ‘It’s all right, I know him.’

  He smirked.

  The young man who had spoken came over and stood next to the officer. He looked anxious and like he wanted to be anywhere in the world but there.

  ‘Hey,’ he said with a nod.

  The young man, whose name he knew to be Eddie, ignored him. Prick.

  ‘I have an appointment with one of the residents,’ he explained to the officer. ‘Eddie can vouch for me. I come at the same time every week.’

  He did too. Landing a client living in the same street as the Kinnocks was a masterstroke; it allowed him to keep tabs on them and what they were spending his money on. At first he’d contented himself with just driving past the house, then one day he’d seen Mack leaving and impulsively followed him. After that, he’d spent as much time as he could monitoring the family’s movements as he waited for them to reply to his earlier letters, the ones he’d signed. After months of frustration it felt like he’d been gifted the opportunity of a lifetime when he’d come across the daughter in the garden on Tuesday.

  ‘Yeah, he does,’ said Eddie.

  ‘Name and address?’ the officer asked.

  He gave his real name, knowing they could all too easily ask his client to corroborate it. But the home address the officer diligently wrote down was false. His client only had his office address at the gym and he was banking on the belief that by the time the police checked out the one he’d just given them, if they bothered at all, he’d have his money and would be long gone.

  ‘I’m a registered sports injury osteopath and my client lives at Verma Lodge.’ He made a show of looking at his watch. ‘Will this take much longer? I’m already five minutes late.’

  Eddie’s mouth opened and closed like a fish floundering on the deck of a boat after it has been caught. He knew why. Eddie thought his name was Simon, because he’d told him his name was Simon. That Eddie had never questioned it or doubted it was hardly his fault and, given the circumstances during which he told him, he could’ve said his name was Mickey Mouse and Eddie would’ve accepted it. It was hard to hear anything over all that screaming.

  Eddie, in his security company uniform, appeared to be on the verge of questioning the discrepancy when he silenced him with a look. Don’t even think about it.

  ‘Did you have an appointment on Tuesday, sir?’

  ‘No. The only day I’m here is Thursday.’

  Now that was a lie and Eddie’s eyes widened as it tripped smoothly off his tongue.

  ‘It’s just routine, sir. We need to check out everyone who comes into Burr Way on a regular basis.’

  ‘Of course. I hope you find the poor girl soon.’

  The officer gave him a stern look. ‘Do you know the Kinnock family?’

  ‘No, not at all. I’d never seen the girl until her picture was on the news. When I visit my client I just drive straight in and out. You don’t usually see anyone around at this time.’

  From the corner of his eye he saw Eddie give the briefest shake of his head. His stomach clenched with anger. If the little fucker carried on like that, he’d get them both into trouble.

  ‘Thank you for your cooperation, sir. I’ll let you through now. Eddie, get the gate.’

  As he steered the car through the gap, reporters penned in behind police tape on the grass verge watched with interest, then quickly turned their attention back to each other.

  Eddie moved to the side of the road just inside the gate and motioned frantically at him to pull over. He was tempted to floor the accelerator and keep going, but he knew it would be reckless given the police presence. His window was still lowered and Eddie bent down so their faces were only inches apart. The security guard’s breath was sour and he wrinkled his nose in distaste.

  ‘What the fuck are you doing back here?’ Eddie hissed.

  ‘I’m seeing my client,’ he said with an ambivalence he knew would wind Eddie up.

  ‘I told you to stay away. Didn’t I make myself clear?’

  ‘Oh, you actually meant that?’ he deadpanned. ‘But if I don’t keep my appointment, my client will wonder where I am.’

  ‘I told you I’d sort it.’

  ‘But you haven’t, have you?’

  ‘I’m warning you—’ Eddie spluttered.

  ‘Or what? What exactly will you do? Tell the police?’

  Eddie looked like he was about to combust. Laughing to himself, he revved the engine and put the car in first gear to pull away.

  ‘Step aside, you little prick. You know you can’t stop me from being here. But don’t worry, I’ll tell her you said hi.’

  32

  Lesley hammered on the Stocktons’ front gate with her fists. She was out of breath from sprinting down the road but still managed to scream loudly at the same time.

  ‘Come out here, Kathryn! I know what you’ve been doing to Rosie!’

  She pummelled the thick wooden gate until her knuckles were red raw but it stayed closed. Stumbling over to the post where the intercom speaker was mounted, she pressed the button repeatedly until finally a voice that sounded like Sarah’s crackled through it.

  ‘Lesley, you need to go home.’

  ‘Where is she?’ Lesley shrieked. ‘Where’s that daughter of yours?’

  ‘We have nothing to say to you, Lesley. Please leave us alone.’

  ‘You fucking get her out here now! I want to know why she’s been bullying Rosie.’

  The intercom fell silent. Lesley pushed hard against the gate to force it open but it wouldn’t budge. She then tried to scale it but couldn’t get any purchase on the smooth wood. Eventually she accepted her attempts to gain access were futile and decided instead to get as far away from Burr Way as she could. Darting across the road, she was so distracted she didn’t see the car until it was almost too late.

  It swerved in an arc to avoid her and Lesley dragged herself back onto the pavement knowing she should be grateful it hadn
’t hit her but almost wishing it had. Knocked out cold, not having to think or feel, no more worry, fear, no anything. It was an inviting prospect.

  The car, which was small and silver, stopped on the other side of the road and the driver got out. Lesley took another step back.

  ‘Are you all right?’ the man called out.

  He didn’t appear to be angry, although he had every right to be. She hadn’t been looking where she was going, had run into the road without thinking, and it was only his deft reaction that stopped him hitting her.

  ‘I’m fine,’ she said, nodding.

  The driver walked towards her then stopped. Shock rippled across his face.

  ‘Oh – it’s you.’

  His comment surprised her. It implied they knew each other but he was younger than her and wore trendy trainers with orange neon flashes up the sides and a T-shirt with tracksuit bottoms. Not scruffy bottoms, like the grey marl ones Mack used to change into when he got home from work to lounge around in, but ones made from lightweight fabric designed to soak up sweat. She looked him up and down again, lingering briefly on his handsome face, and concluded he definitely didn’t look like someone she would know – and yet at the same time she could’ve sworn she had seen him somewhere before.

  ‘Do I know you?’ she asked.

  He shook his head quickly and started backing away, car key in hand, ready to make a getaway.

  ‘No. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—’ He took a deep breath. ‘I’m sorry about your daughter.’

  ‘Do I know you?’ she repeated.

  He looked panicked now and shook his head even more vehemently.

  ‘God, no. I – I saw you on the telly yesterday.’

  The look of horror that stamped itself on Lesley’s face sent him scurrying back to his car.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he called over his shoulder. ‘I really am.’

  As he drove away, bile burned in her throat. It was bad enough being recognized for winning the lottery, but not for that.

  She debated whether to return to the house to tell Mack but thought better of it. She couldn’t face the inevitable discussion that would ensue with Maggie and Belmar, of having to listen to them carp on about how it was good people knew who she was because it meant people were paying attention and that would help them find Rosie quicker. Like that was any kind of comfort.

  She walked down Burr Way in the same direction the car had gone. She hadn’t noticed which driveway it turned into but guessed it must be parked up in one of them because the road dead-ended by the meadow where Rosie’s skirt was found and the vehicle was nowhere to be seen. The people who lived down that end were a mystery to her: they hid themselves behind locked gates and walls even higher than those at her end of the road and if she ever saw any of them driving past they averted their eyes. She wasn’t sure how many people even lived down there.

  The meadow stretched between Burr Way and the fringes of the village centre. Walking straight across was the quickest route into Haxton but she couldn’t bring herself to go that way. She didn’t know exactly where the bush was that Rosie’s skirt had been stuffed into, but just knowing it was one of them was enough. So she took the long way into the village, turning left at the bottom of the meadow and continuing on until she reached another residential road that would take her where she wanted to go. There was no purpose to her journey, other than to get away. She didn’t have her purse with her, or her phone, and she was wearing lace-up canvas plimsolls that were giving her blisters because she wasn’t wearing any socks. The wind had picked up since yesterday, the temperature dropping with it, and she was chilly in just her navy T-shirt and denim skirt. But she kept going and by the time she reached the centre of Haxton her mind had gone blank – she could think of nothing but walking.

  When she finally came to, she was in the chilled food aisle in M&S Simply Food, right in front of the yoghurts, and wondering how the hell she’d got there. She didn’t even like yoghurt.

  ‘Excuse me, do you need any help?’

  She looked up to see a store assistant next to her, a young girl with long, blonde highlighted hair, who was chewing gum that swirled around her mouth like a lone sock in a washing machine.

  ‘Do you need any help?’ the girl repeated. The chewing did not relent for speech, it turned out.

  ‘No, thank you,’ Lesley managed.

  ‘Are you sure? You’ve been standing there for ages.’

  ‘Have I?’ she said wonderingly.

  The shop assistant nodded, her lips smacking loudly as her lower teeth ground the gum into her upper ones. The noise made Lesley uptight.

  ‘Yes, for about fifteen minutes. Are you sure you don’t need any help?’

  ‘For crying out loud, leave her alone!’ a voice burst in between them. ‘Can’t you see she’s upset?’

  A young black woman pushing her toddler son in a buggy rounded on the shop assistant.

  ‘That’s the missing girl’s mum,’ she hissed.

  The shop assistant’s mouth fell open to such an extent that Lesley was surprised the chewing gum didn’t drop out.

  ‘Oh God, I’m so sorry,’ she spluttered.

  The mum took Lesley’s hand, even though she hadn’t offered it to be held.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ she asked her.

  The gentle lilt of her voice and the warm pressure of her hand were too much and Lesley burst into tears.

  ‘We’ve run out of milk,’ she sobbed. ‘But I haven’t got any money.’

  The next few minutes passed in a blur as the mum corralled the shop assistant into getting Lesley four pints of semi-skimmed, which she then insisted on paying for. She was vaguely aware of people watching, of hushed words and nudged elbows, of sympathetic looks and heads being shaken. As she struggled to hold it together, it felt like she was drowning in pity.

  Outside, her rescuer offered to drive her back to Angel’s Reach but she refused. She’d stopped crying now and felt more in possession of her body, even though her mind was still somewhat disconnected.

  ‘Let me call someone to come and get you then. You can’t walk back on your own,’ the woman fretted.

  ‘I’m fine. You’ve been really very kind but I’m okay, honestly.’

  She could see the woman was weighing up what to do, chewing her bottom lip anxiously as she did. Lesley touched her arm lightly.

  ‘Please, I’d much rather walk. I need a bit of time . . . well, you know.’

  The woman didn’t know, couldn’t possibly know, but she nodded knowingly all the same. With a last thank you, Lesley walked away in the direction she’d come from, avoiding the meadow again.

  Across the street a small silver car eased away from the kerb.

  33

  A distraught Mack begged Maggie and Belmar to look for his wife. ‘I’ll stay here in case she comes back,’ he said. ‘Please hurry, I can’t cope with her disappearing too.’

  ‘She won’t have gone far,’ Maggie tried to reassure him, ‘and she could only have gone one of two ways. I’ll head up to the meadow and Belmar will check with the officer stationed down by the gate to see if he’s seen her.’

  They left him hunched on the sofa, head in his hands, his muffled crying soundtracking their exit.

  The only people she spotted in the meadow were two scene of crime officers from Matheson’s unit milling along the hedgerow border furthest from where it met Burr Way; she presumed that was where Rosie’s skirt had been found. As she headed towards them, she noticed the meadow floor had been flattened in places and guessed it was the result of the inch-by-inch search carried out by her colleagues and volunteers earlier that morning, just as the sun came up. As far as she was aware, they hadn’t found anything.

  ‘Hey, where are you going?’

  Maggie jumped in fright and swung round to find Kathryn and Lily walking behind her.

  ‘Bloody hell, where did you two creep up from?’

  ‘Did we scare you? Sorry,’ said Kathryn, looking anythi
ng but. ‘Why are you out here? Aren’t you meant to be with Rosie’s parents?’

  ‘Are you looking for her mum?’ Lily interrupted. ‘She went past about ten minutes ago.’

  ‘After banging on our gate for ages first,’ Kathryn sniped. ‘It was like she’d gone mad.’

  Maggie ignored Kathryn and directed her question at Lily. ‘Did she say where she was going?’

  ‘I didn’t talk to her, I just saw her.’

  Kathryn sniggered as she fiddled with a button on her fitted denim jacket. Lily looked cosy swaddled in a bottle-green Barbour.

  ‘Is something funny?’ said Maggie coldly.

  Kathryn shrugged.

  ‘What are they doing here still?’ asked Lily, pointing to Matheson’s officers. Her hand trembled.

  ‘They need to make sure they’ve checked the whole area thoroughly.’

  Lily looked downcast. Rosie’s disappearance wasn’t just taking its toll on Lesley and Mack, it seemed.

  ‘Can I ask you both something?’ said Maggie.

  ‘If you want,’ said Kathryn, answering for them both as she twirled a loose strand of her long, dark hair in her fingers.

  ‘Do you know anyone with the initials GS? I think it might be a male.’

  Lily shook her head but Kathryn kept her focus on the ground as she dug the toes of her trainers into the meadow floor.

  ‘Kathryn?’ Maggie prompted.

  ‘GS? No, I don’t,’ she said, not looking up.

  ‘Has Rosie ever mentioned knowing someone with those initials?’

  ‘Not to me.’ She glanced sideways at Lily. ‘You?’

  Lily shook her head again. She was ghostly pale.

  ‘Is that it?’ said Kathryn.

  ‘Actually, there is one more thing I’d like to check. Are you certain Rosie told you she self-harmed?’

  ‘Not this again,’ Kathryn huffed.

  ‘Rosie told me she did,’ said Lily. ‘I believed her. Why would anyone lie about something like that?’

  Maggie wasn’t sure what to believe. Rosie wrote in her online diary about how isolated she felt because of the bullying and how scared she was of GS, whoever he was, yet had made no mention of self-harming. If she had been cutting herself, surely something that serious would warrant a mention or two as she poured out her heart on her laptop?