Gone Astray

by Michelle Davies

  ‘Lily, you said to me the other day that Rosie didn’t deserve what was happening to her. What did you mean by that?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Lily mumbled. ‘I was upset.’

  ‘Do you still think the blood in the garden was caused by her cutting herself?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said, her voice the firmest it had been during the entire conversation.

  ‘Can we go now?’ asked Kathryn.

  ‘Sure. Mind how you go.’

  Haxton was far prettier than Maggie remembered. The focal point was the village green and the sizeable buildings circling its edge were made from either flint or brick. One had been converted into a general store, but most were cottages and houses with front gardens overflowing with foliage. Her mum, Jeanette, was a keen gardener and the knowledge she’d passed down to Maggie meant she could tell apart the geraniums from the roses and clematis that clung to any patch of brickwork they could reach. There were hanging baskets decorating some of the cottages that mirrored larger ones suspended outside the sole pub, the Copper Kettle. Maggie could tell Haxton was a village that cared greatly about appearance.

  One of the roads leading off the village green led to a bigger parade of shops. Maggie was about to turn up it when Belmar called to say Lesley had been spotted coming back up Burr Way. She told him she’d head straight back herself.

  Walking briskly, on the way she called Lou and was pleased to hear her sound more upbeat than she had yesterday.

  ‘Rob rang late last night to say he’s got some money to give me.’

  ‘About sodding time.’

  ‘Was it your doing?’

  ‘I had a quiet word, yes.’

  ‘I guessed as much. It would’ve been nice if he’d decided to give me the money because he realized he should and not because you told him to, but I’m not going to complain. It was nice to talk to him.’

  ‘When’s he paying you?’ said Maggie, ignoring her last comment. ‘Nice’ was not a word she’d ever use in the context of Rob and she wouldn’t believe he was paying what he owed until the money was in her sister’s hand.

  ‘That’s the thing. He’s saying he can’t for a couple of days because he’s too busy but if I want I can go and get it myself. Except obviously I can’t go round to his and collect it if she’s there.’

  ‘Busy with what?’

  ‘Job interviews apparently. Anyhow, I know it’s a lot to ask as you’ve got this case going on, but is there any way you could get it for me at some point today? I wouldn’t ask unless I was desperate.’

  ‘I guess I could try to pick it up later,’ said Maggie, clueless as to how she’d manage to sneak off again. She’d just have to find a way.

  ‘How’s the search going?’

  ‘It’s tough. There’s still no news.’

  Maggie reached the mouth of the meadow and picked up her pace.

  ‘Her poor mum and dad. What do you reckon has happened to her?’

  Maggie didn’t want to speculate with Lou. She trusted her sister, but at the same time didn’t want to blur the lines between her work and home life.

  ‘I don’t know, sis. Look, I’ve got to go now. When did Rob say he’ll have the money ready?’

  ‘He said later this afternoon, but send a text first to say you’re on your way. Oh, and if you see that bitch Lisa, don’t be nice. Don’t even look at her, let alone smile.’

  Maggie grinned. She didn’t blame Lou for hating the woman who’d contributed to ripping her family apart. Their paths had crossed only once since Rob walked out, when he stupidly brought Lisa with him to see Mae one weekend. The expletives that spewed from Lou’s mouth that day had made Maggie grateful her niece was too young to understand words yet.

  ‘What if she’s nice to me?’ Maggie teased.

  ‘Ignore her. From what I’ve heard, she’s so bloody needy that if you act like she doesn’t exist it’ll drive her mad.’

  ‘Did Rob mention wanting a divorce again?’

  ‘No, he didn’t say a word. He was pretty grumpy, actually. Maybe they’ve had a row.’

  It was the happiest Lou had sounded in months.

  34

  He cancelled his appointment right there on the doorstep, telling his client he’d been overcome by dizziness on the drive over and needed to go home. It wasn’t even a lie. Seeing the girl’s mother like that and talking to her face to face had sent him into a tailspin. A crushing pain now filled his head and he could barely lift his chin off his chest to address his client, who was furious that he wanted to reschedule.

  ‘Are you sure you can’t help me today?’ Mrs Roberts queried, clearly not buying his explanation. ‘I’m still too weak to go upstairs and I’ve had to have my bedroom moved down here. It’s hard to manage on my own.’

  You’re not an invalid, you stupid old bag, he inwardly screamed at her. You’ve just hurt your bloody arm.

  Her injury was in fact an overextension of the joint in her left wrist, sustained when she had reached forward to grip the banister while climbing her stairs. An inexplicable, freak accident exacerbated by the arthritis already making her elderly joints crumble like a coastline battered by the sea.

  ‘I am sorry, Mrs Roberts,’ he said through gritted teeth, the pain behind his eyes pounding in time with his speech. ‘But I must go.’

  She proffered him her arm like a puppy might its paw.

  ‘But it’s not getting any better. What am I paying you for if it’s not getting better?’

  What she paid him was a lot less than others in his profession charged and a drop in the ocean compared to what she had stashed in the bank. He’d done some digging around on her after Charlie, his rugby-playing client, had introduced them and he’d found out her husband had left her well provided for when he widowed her. The fact she could maintain a house this size on her own, with an outdoor pool in the grounds, was proof of that.

  ‘Why don’t I come back at the same time tomorrow?’ he suggested.

  He had to come back. It wasn’t just about missing the appointment and forfeiting his fee. He needed to make sure everything was as he’d left it on Tuesday and, more importantly, he needed to be there to work out his next move. Seeing the girl’s mother like that had rattled him. He could no longer afford to wait.

  ‘How do I know you’ll be fine by then?’

  ‘It’s a migraine, Mrs Roberts,’ he said, even though it was far worse than any migraine he’d had before. It was like his skull was splitting open. ‘I just need to sleep it off. It’s not like I make a habit of cancelling.’

  She pursed her lips in annoyance as she smoothed a loose strand of white-blonde hair off her forehead. She was still attractive for a woman of seventy-eight and, despite how her injury supposedly impeded her, was immaculately dressed in a red linen skirt and cream blouse. Attractive, yes – but even he had limits.

  ‘Fine. But I want you back here tomorrow at nine a.m.’

  It would take some juggling of his appointments but he would do it. He had to.

  He hadn’t been lying when he said his plan was to go straight home and sleep off the pain either. But as he drove out of Burr Way and turned right towards the centre of Haxton, he saw the girl’s mother again, walking along the approach to the high street. Curious to find out where she was going, he forgot all about his headache and followed her.

  She loitered outside M&S for ages, while he parked across the road in a pay-and-display bay outside Barclays Bank. She didn’t seem to have much awareness of her surroundings – he probably could’ve walked right up to her and waved a hand in her face and she wouldn’t have noticed.

  After she went inside the store he waited in his car for precisely two minutes, counting it down on his watch, before crossing the road and following her inside. The store was crowded and he had to go up and down the aisles a few times before he found her. He was hovering a few feet away when the shop assistant approached. The voice in his head, the same one that had screamed at Mrs Roberts to shut up about her arm,
cautioned him to leave before he was spotted, before suspicions were aroused and someone made a note of his description. But he couldn’t tear himself away. The mother fascinated him. Her complexion was fairer than the girl’s but her frame was exactly the same now she’d lost weight. Small and slight, like all it would take was a gust of wind to blow her over. Would she be as easy to lift as her daughter, he wondered? She couldn’t weigh much more.

  A woman with a buggy was getting involved now. He inched forward on the pretext of browsing the yoghurts like she had done. Then he heard her distinctly say she didn’t have any money and instantly the pain returned behind his eyes and the ridge on his forehead swelled in protest. No money? Was she fucking joking? What about HIS money?

  He slipped away unnoticed. Outside, as he waited for the traffic to part so he could cross the road back to his car, he knew it was time for decisive action. The Kinnocks clearly hadn’t taken his last note seriously. He had to show them and the police that his intentions were serious.

  Using the Google app on his phone, he looked up the number for the police incident room in Mansell and dialled it. Then he pulled the hem of his T-shirt over his mouth to muffle his voice and lowered it by two octaves.

  ‘I have something to report about the Kinnock girl.’

  The officer who answered sounded fed up, like it wasn’t the first crank-sounding call of the day.

  ‘What’s that, sir?’ the officer said with a sigh.

  ‘I want the million-pound reward though.’

  ‘Ah, well, I don’t think that stands presently.’

  ‘Tell the fucking parents to reinstate it then.’

  The officer sounded pissed off now. ‘I don’t think that’s going to happen. It was an incorrect amount.’

  ‘You’d better fucking make it happen. It’s my money.’

  ‘That’s what they all say, sir.’

  ‘Oh yeah? I can prove the Kinnocks stole it from me. Or rather that bitch of a mother did. They should’ve taken more notice of the letters I sent.’

  The officer’s interest was suddenly roused.

  ‘What letter would that be?’

  ‘Are you going to give me the reward or not?’

  ‘Sir, why don’t you tell me what you know first?’

  There was a loud whooshing noise in his ears as anger thundered around his head and he was overwhelmed by the urge to punch his fist clean through the windscreen. As he snarled into the phone, he let go of the cotton fabric covering his mouth and his voice rose to its normal pitch. He was too angry to notice.

  ‘Tell the parents they’ve got twenty-four hours to reinstate the reward or I’ll send their daughter back piece by fucking piece – starting with her toes and that pretty blue nail varnish she’s wearing on them.’

  35

  When she arrived home to find Mack waiting for her on the doorstep, Lesley braced herself for another row. But something in her husband’s expression stopped her in her tracks. He looked scared, not angry. She started to shake.

  ‘Have they found her?’ she rasped.

  He nodded over his shoulder to Belmar, who was in the entrance hall talking on the phone. She could tell it wasn’t good news. Terrified, she gripped Mack’s arm.

  ‘Oh God, please don’t say she’s dead,’ she moaned. ‘Please don’t say she’s dead.’

  Belmar gestured for them to come closer.

  ‘We haven’t found Rosie but there’s been a development and DCI Umpire wants to talk to you. I’ll put you on speakerphone.’

  Umpire’s voice crackled into the entrance hall.

  ‘I’m sorry to have to do this over the phone but I need to ask you this as a matter of urgency: does Rosie wear nail varnish?’

  The question surprised Lesley. Mack too, judging by the way he raised his eyebrows at her.

  ‘Yes, sometimes,’ she answered.

  Her husband rolled his eyes disapprovingly.

  ‘Really, Mack? You’re going to start that now?’ she snapped.

  He looked stung but kept quiet.

  ‘Mrs Kinnock, was Rosie wearing nail varnish on Tuesday?’ Umpire pressed.

  ‘I, um, I’m not sure . . .’

  ‘It’s really important we know if she was,’ he urged.

  She closed her eyes and tried to picture her daughter the last time she saw her at the breakfast table.

  ‘She might have been wearing blue nail varnish on her toenails. She knows she’s not allowed to wear it on her fingernails. It’s a very bright shade, like kingfisher blue. It’s her favourite colour. Why are you . . . ?’ She tailed off, too terrified to finish her own sentence.

  ‘Someone we believe could be the crayon writer called the incident room five minutes ago. He specifically mentioned the fact Rosie was wearing blue varnish on her toenails when she went missing.’

  Lesley swayed violently on the spot, just as Maggie bowled through the front door. She saw what was going on and raced over to Lesley, who clawed at her like a drowning woman trying to reach shore.

  ‘No, no, no . . .’ she moaned.

  The room spun around her. Maggie gripped her tighter as Belmar gave a quick rundown of what had happened.

  ‘We should move you to a safe house,’ Umpire’s disembodied voice announced. He spoke with an urgency that accelerated Lesley’s own panic.

  ‘Why?’ croaked Mack, by now ashen.

  ‘The caller made a specific threat against Rosie. He’s asking for money and is obsessed with the idea that Mrs Kinnock somehow stole from him. I want to move you for your safety.’

  ‘You think he might come after us here?’ asked Lesley.

  ‘I’m not prepared to risk finding out. I’m going to arrange for you to stay at one of our safe houses; we have a number in and around the area we can use. I know you don’t want to be too far from home in case there’s any news about Rosie, but hopefully it won’t be for long. DC Neville and DC Small will go with you.’

  ‘No,’ said Mack. ‘We’re not going anywhere.’

  ‘Mr Kinnock—’ Umpire began.

  ‘No, you listen to me. We live in a gated road, the house is completely secure now and if you do the job you’re meant to, the bastard won’t be able to get us. I am not running away.’

  ‘He’s right,’ said Lesley. ‘What if Rosie comes home and finds the place empty? What will she think?’

  ‘We’d have officers stationed here all the time,’ said Umpire. ‘They would bring her to where you are.’

  Lesley looked at Mack. His mouth was set in a firm line.

  ‘They can’t make us go, love.’

  For the first time since she’d read the texts from Suzy Breed, Lesley felt a rush of love for her husband. Nothing would bend him, not even this.

  Umpire decided the Kinnocks should hear the recording themselves, in case they recognized the crayon writer’s voice. He told Belmar he’d be at the house in fifteen minutes then hung up.

  Maggie asked Mack and Lesley to excuse them and motioned for Belmar to step outside onto the driveway so they could talk privately.

  ‘When did Lesley get back?’ she asked.

  ‘About five minutes before you did.’

  ‘Did she say where she went?’

  ‘She didn’t have the chance. After I rang you to say she was on her way back, I was straight on the phone to Umpire and then he wanted to speak to her about the nail varnish.’

  The previous evening Maggie had called Belmar at home to brief him about the diary Rosie had typed out on her old laptop and about GS.

  ‘I just bumped into Kathryn and Lily. I asked them if they knew who GS was and both said they’d never heard Rosie refer to anyone like that, but I’m convinced they weren’t telling the truth. I’m pretty sure Lily would’ve admitted it if Kathryn hadn’t been there to interrupt her every word. They still seem convinced the blood found in the garden was caused by her self-harming though.’

  ‘What did Ballboy say about the laptop?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ she said
. ‘He wasn’t around yesterday so I had to brief Steve Berry. You know what it’s like – once we pass the info on, it can be ages before we find out what’s going on.’

  ‘Always the last to know,’ said Belmar resignedly.

  The DCI looked uncomfortable perched on the sofa next to Mack and Lesley. The seat was quite low down and his long legs were bent at an awkward angle. He was exasperated by Mack’s refusal to leave Angel’s Reach.

  ‘We’re certain the person who called the incident room is the crayon writer because he’s made another specific reference to Rosie and talked about sending you letters after your EuroMillions win. He seems particularly angry at you, Lesley, presumably because you bought the winning ticket.’

  ‘We’re safe here,’ said Mack firmly. ‘So unless you have some kind of court order to move us, forget it. This is our home and we’re staying put.’

  ‘Fine,’ Umpire snapped. ‘But you’re staying against my wishes.’

  ‘Duly noted,’ Mack replied sarcastically. ‘Now, can we listen to the call or not?’

  Umpire had the recording downloaded on his phone. Maggie saw Lesley shudder as the room was filled with two voices, one of the caller and the other of the police officer who spoke to him. Mack wrapped his arm round her shoulders as the crayon writer finished by issuing his threat to return Rosie home to them in pieces.

  ‘Why the fuck is he tormenting us?’ said Mack as Umpire shut the recording off. ‘Look, just give him what he wants. Tell him he can have the money.’

  ‘I know that seems like the easiest solution but what we have to bear in mind is that giving him the money is no guarantee of Rosie’s safe return,’ said Umpire, shifting awkwardly in his seat again. ‘He hasn’t issued any instructions about being paid, either, so I think he hasn’t properly thought it out. It sounds like the call was a knee-jerk response because he’s panicking.’