by Susan Lewis
Kian’s temper flared. “And that’s it?” he cried. “Because no one answers the door, you just assume that no one’s there?”
“Not necessarily,” Field countered, “but we have no evidence at this stage to say that anything unusual or untoward has occurred.”
Jules leapt to her feet. “I’ve just told you what kind of girl we’re dealing with. We know she lied to get my daughter to go and see her.”
“But how do you know that your daughter wasn’t a part of the lie?”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Kian demanded. “I don’t get why you’re not believing us.”
“It’s not that I don’t believe you,” Field corrected. “It’s simply that in my experience the parents are often the last to know what their children are up to.”
“And in my experience of our daughter we are never the last to know,” Kian thundered. “What the hell is it with you? Can’t you see how worried we are? Do you think we’re putting it on for attention, or something? Next thing you’ll be telling us is that she’s been groomed by some jihadi group and run off to Syria!”
“At this stage I wouldn’t rule anything out,” Field responded mildly, “but given their backgrounds and ethnicity I grant you the jihadi scenario is unlikely. What wouldn’t be unusual is for two girls to concoct a plan to go off and meet a couple of boys together, or—”
“Daisy has a boyfriend,” Jules cut across him. “His name is Joe Masters, he lives in the United States, and as I’ve already told you, she is due to fly over there tomorrow morning to see him. There is absolutely no way in the world she would deliberately miss the flight.”
“And she hasn’t yet,” Field pointed out reasonably. “It is quite possible she’ll come home tonight and be ready to go at whatever time—”
“What’s the fucking matter with you?” Kian raged, banging a fist on the table. “Instead of sitting here trying to tell us we don’t know our own daughter, why don’t you go up there and break the bloody door down if necessary to find out if she’s in that house?”
Eyeing him with some distaste, Field said, “We’d need a warrant to search the place, and at this moment in time we have no grounds for an application. All we know is that you dropped your daughter outside the gates at around three o’clock this afternoon, meaning you were the last one to see her…”
Jules reeled as Kian turned white.
“I hope to God you’re not trying to suggest I had anything to do with this,” Kian seethed.
Field’s penetrating stare remained on him as he said, “I’m simply trying to get the facts straight. You say you dropped her at the gates but didn’t wait to see if she went in. So, presuming that’s true, for all we know Amelia Quentin came out and they drove off somewhere.”
“Like where, for Christ’s sake?” Kian fumed. “To see a mother who’s apparently dead?”
“As I’ve already mentioned, it could have been a ploy.”
Jules clapped her hands to her head as Kian snatched up his phone. “We need to get our Danny on this,” he growled.
“Who’s Danny?” the detective enquired.
“My cousin. He won’t have a problem getting in there.”
“Illegally.”
Losing it altogether, Kian yelled, “For fuck’s sake, she’s been tricked into going somewhere she wouldn’t normally go, on the eve of a trip to the States to see her boyfriend, and she isn’t answering her bloody phone. What more do you want?”
“We’re simply trying to establish—”
“I don’t give a fuck what you’re trying to establish. I want my daughter back here tonight, and if you aren’t going to make it happen, then I bloody well will.”
“Mr. Bright,” Field called after him as Kian stormed off, “I must warn you that taking the law into your own hands can have serious consequences.”
Kian wasn’t listening; he was already charging down the stairs to see Danny.
“And I must warn you,” Jules hissed at Field as she made to follow Kian, “if anything happens to our daughter that could have been prevented, you are the one who’ll be facing serious consequences.”
—
The pub was still crowded when Jules got downstairs, but there was no sign of Kian or Danny.
She found them outside in the car park surrounded by a group of Danny’s cohorts, already planning their break-in at Crofton Park.
“You stay here, Kian,” Danny instructed. “You don’t want the law coming back on you for this. The rest of us can handle it.”
“No way am I staying here,” Kian growled. “She’s my daughter.”
“I’m coming too,” Jules insisted.
“Listen, the pair of you—” Danny broke off as he spotted Field returning to his car. “Scum,” he spat, loud enough for the detective to hear.
Field made no response, simply got into the Ford Focus and headed out to the main road.
“Mr. and Mrs. Bright,” a voice called out from behind them.
They turned to find the younger detective beckoning them over to a marked police car where he was standing with the young officer who’d arrived at the pub first.
Going over to them, Jules said coldly, “Yes?”
After glancing at his colleague, Leo Johnson said, “Is there a chance, if we call Mr. Quentin, that he’ll tell us how to gain access to the house?”
Momentarily thrown after such a hostile meeting with Field, Jules called Kian over. She repeated Johnson’s question and saw his own surprise register.
“Well?” she prompted.
“Yeah, I guess there is,” Kian replied, clearly thinking it through. “I mean, why wouldn’t he?”
“Precisely,” Johnson responded. “And that way, if we go in, no crime’s been committed because we have the owner’s permission to be there.”
Jules and Kian looked at each other, taking a moment to register that these officers, at least, were on their side.
“I’ll make the call,” Kian stated.
“No, I’ll do it,” Johnson said. “It’ll have more authority coming from the police.”
Not arguing, Jules and Kian watched him step away, still thrown by this sudden cooperation, but welcoming it nonetheless.
“What was it with that bloke Field?” Kian demanded of the uniformed officer. “It was like he didn’t believe a word we said.”
“Let’s put it this way,” Barry Britten responded, turning down the volume of his two-way radio, “he’s been at it a long time and he’s seen a lot of kids get their parents all worked up over nothing.”
Kian snarled, “Still no reason to treat us like a pair of liars, or to damn well insinuate that I’m in some way involved in my own daughter’s disappearance.”
“I’m afraid parents sometimes are,” Britten reminded him.
“Well, it’s not the case with us,” Kian barked. “I don’t want him here again. No way is he ever crossing my threshold.”
“Don’t worry, he’s very close to retirement.”
“OK,” Johnson announced, clicking off the line as he came back to them, “he’s given me a code for the gates and a number for the caretaker who’s got keys to the house.”
“So what’s the score?” Danny wanted to know, coming to join them.
“We’re going up there,” Kian told him, “and the police are going in.”
Danny cocked a look at Barry Britten. “That’s my man,” he muttered, making it plain that this wasn’t the first time the two men had met.
“I think it’s best if you wait here,” Johnson cautioned. “What we’re doing isn’t strictly official, and if—”
“But you’ve got Quentin’s permission,” Kian pointed out.
“Agreed, but it hasn’t been signed off on back at the station. If it comes out that we went in there and took a bunch of you with us…”
“We’ll wait outside,” Jules told him. “We don’t have to go in,” she explained to Kian. “We just need to be there to bring her home.”
&n
bsp; —
An hour and a half later Kian and Jules, along with Danny and several others, were standing in the moonlight outside Crofton Park watching the marked police car coming back along the drive toward them.
Jules’s heart was in her mouth. They had to have found Daisy, they just had to. There were three people in the vehicle, but it soon became clear that the third person was the caretaker who’d come to open the place up for them.
Leo Johnson was shaking his head as he got out of the car. “No one there,” he told them. “No lights on anywhere, no cars in the drive. The place is deserted.”
Desperate and frustrated, Jules turned to Kian, willing him to do something, anything, but he was as helpless as she was.
“Can you think of anywhere else they might have gone?” Johnson asked as Britten saw the caretaker back to his car.
Jules shook her head, her heart jolting as her phone rang. Seeing who it was, she almost didn’t answer. “It’s Joe, her boyfriend,” she said brokenly. “He’ll be wondering why he can’t get hold of her.” Oh, dear God, this isn’t happening. Please, please, it can’t be real.
“I’ll talk to him,” Kian told her, taking the mobile.
As he walked away from the group, Johnson said to Jules, “If you haven’t done it already, you should contact Daisy’s friends to ask if they can shed any light on where she and Amelia might have gone.”
Jules nodded. “Of course, but I can promise you, if they knew they’d already have spoken up.”
Danny said, “Are you going to start a search for them? We can get the girl’s car registration number from her father.”
“We will,” Johnson assured him, “but at the moment this still isn’t official.”
“You’re kidding me,” Danny cried. “What the hell does it take?”
“They’re seventeen and twenty-one,” Johnson reminded him.
“And one of them got the other here under false pretenses. Surely to God that means something.”
“I’m on your side,” Johnson told him, “but we haven’t seen the text.”
“Are you saying we’re lying?” Danny exploded.
“No, of course not, I’m just trying to explain how it’s looking back at the station, especially with Field on the case. Kids are taking off all the time without telling anyone where they’re going. If Daisy was younger, or mentally or physically challenged in some way, or if Amelia had a history of violence—”
“Maybe she has,” Jules cut in forcefully. “We’ve heard things….We need to check. She might even have a police record.”
Johnson was shaking his head. “A check was run on both girls as soon as your call came in. Nothing on either.”
Kian rejoined them. “What’s happening?” he asked, handing Jules back her phone.
“Fuck-all, as far as I can tell,” Danny snarled.
“How’s Joe?” Jules wanted to know.
“Worried. He wants to come over, but I told him to stay put for now, at least until we know she’s missed the flight.”
Unable to let herself even think of it, Jules watched Barry Britten punch in the code to close the gates. “You can’t stop looking for her,” she begged him. “Please, she has to be somewhere and we need to find her.”
—
It was just before eight the next morning, following the worst night of Kian’s and Jules’s lives, that they saw acting DC Leo Johnson arrive at the pub. Police Constable Barry Britten was with him but remained in the car while Johnson went into the bar, where he found at least two dozen people, who’d clearly been there all night, waiting for news. After acknowledging them but not engaging with their hostility, he followed Kian and Jules upstairs to the flat.
“I’m presuming,” he began a little hesitantly when they were in the kitchen, “that you haven’t heard anything overnight?”
Kian’s eyes were glassy with fatigue, his jaw tight with stress. “If we had, we’d have let you know,” he responded tersely.
“No, we haven’t,” Jules said more gently. If he was the best they could get on their side, he was certainly better than no one.
“So are you going to continue the search today,” Kian demanded, “or is she still not important enough to be considered at risk?”
“We should be on our way to Heathrow by now,” Jules added brokenly. For Daisy not to have come back in time for the flight meant there was no evading the fact that something was seriously wrong.
Johnson’s eyes were full of pity as he said, “Have you checked to see if her passport is still here?”
Jules looked away as she nodded. “Yes, it’s still here,” she mumbled. This felt like the worst imaginable nightmare, one she desperately needed to wake up from if only she knew how.
“I don’t want you to think nothing is being done,” Johnson continued kindly. “Barry, the PC you met last night, and I are hoping to go back to the Quentins’ house at some point today to carry out a more thorough search, and Amelia’s car registration number has been circulated throughout the Dean Valley force.”
“And if she’s taken Daisy out of the area?” Kian prompted, checking his mobile as it rang. His eyes went to Jules as, with a brief shake of his head, he clicked on. “Dougie, what can I do for you?” he said abruptly.
Dougie? The mayor?
As Kian listened he put a hand to his head, and for one awful moment Jules thought he was going to cry. “That’s great. Thanks, mate,” he managed in the end. “We really appreciate it….Yeah, Jules is here, I’ll tell her.”
After ringing off he said, “He got the call about Daisy an hour ago….He’s working on getting us all the police cooperation we need….” As his voice fractured to nothing Jules put her hands over her face.
“This is good news,” Johnson said quietly. “With the right sort of manpower and resources it shouldn’t take us long to find her.”
He was almost at the door before Jules remembered to thank him. “Did you call the mayor?” she asked.
He colored slightly. “Not personally, but I spoke to someone who has his direct number. He’s a good bloke. I was hoping he’d make a difference.”
Jules’s mind wasn’t working properly; she couldn’t think what to say when she was once again trying to process the fact that this was about Daisy and the fact that she hadn’t come home all night.
“You should have a family liaison officer soon,” Johnson told them, “and you should prepare for more questions.”
“Not from the bloke who was here last night,” Kian protested. “I don’t want him here again.”
“Field’s a good detective,” Johnson assured him, “just a bit jaded now that he’s coming to the end of his career.”
“Then let him go and be jaded with somebody else,” Jules retorted. “We want someone who actually believes there’s a problem, who cares about finding my daughter.”
“We all care about that,” Johnson promised, turning as Barry Britten came into the room.
“I’m the FLO,” Britten told him. “Field’s outside in his car waiting for you to go with him to the Quentins’ place.” To Jules and Kian he said, “From now on it’s my job to keep you informed of everything that’s happening, but I need to bring myself up to speed with what’s going on at the station. Give me five minutes and I’ll know more.”
As both officers left, Kian turned away, pushing a hand roughly through his hair. Jules watched him absently while listening to the voices downstairs. She should go and tell the others that they had police support now, that they weren’t being left to their own devices after all. She didn’t move. It was as though a giant hole was opening up inside her. It was making her feel sick. They were turning into one of the families they saw on the news, the parents who spoke to their children’s abductors through the media, begging them not to harm them and let them come home. She didn’t want this to be happening. She had to make it go away and bring their world back to normal.
“Marco rustled you up some breakfast,” Aileen announced, carr
ying in a tray of eggs and bacon. “You need to keep up your strength.”
Kian didn’t turn around; Jules simply looked at it as though she had no idea what it was.
After making fresh coffee and preparing another tray for Marsha, Aileen said, “I’ll go and see to your mother. She’s probably awake by now.”
Jules tried to think about her mother, what she needed, how she might be this morning, but she couldn’t get her thoughts to make any sense. She said to Kian, “We should go and look for her ourselves.”
Taking out his phone, he started to dial.
“Who are you calling?”
“Quentin. No way should he be allowed to carry on sitting there in Italy while his daughter’s playing God only knows what kind of games with Daisy….Anton, it’s Kian Bright. There’s still no sign of them and we’re worried out of—” As Quentin broke in Jules watched Kian’s face turning white. Suddenly he shouted, “You can’t be fucking serious. Of course I gave the police your number….I don’t give a fuck what it’s— No, you listen to me, you supercilious bastard, your daughter tricked mine into going to meet her— Yes, that is what happened. I was here, I saw the text. She said she’d found her mother—”
Jules snatched the phone. “Does Amelia know her mother’s dead?” she shouted down the line.
“Of course she knows,” Quentin snapped back, “which is why it’s nonsense for her to have said she’d found her.”
“Well, that is what she said, I saw the text myself, so what the hell is going on, Mr. Quentin?”
“How the hell am I supposed to know when I’m here and they’re there?”
“Except they’re not here,” Jules raged. “Amelia’s taken Daisy off somewhere, and we need to know where that might be.”
“As far as I’m aware, the police are looking, so what more do you think I can do?”
“Have you given the police the addresses of your other properties?”
“Not yet, but I will when they ask.”
“We need to know now,” she barked, rummaging for a pen.
“I’m afraid it’s not convenient right now. We’re about to go out for the day.” The line went dead.
Jules stared at the phone, dumbfounded. Had that really just happened? Had he truly treated her like some irritating mosquito he was trying to bat out of the way when he knew how distressed she was? “He hung up on me,” she told Kian. “That bastard just told me he was going out for the day!”