Her Missing Child

by Kerry Watts

  Jessie hadn’t anticipated that response. ‘I beg your pardon?’

  ‘Are you accusing Claire? Or me?’ The volume of Darren’s voice increased and he rocked the chair backwards as he jumped to his feet. ‘What are you accusing us of? What do you think we’ve done to our own son?’

  The atmosphere in this house was electric. Dylan would say Jessie’s spidey senses were tingling. Darren’s behaviour was totally in keeping with the fact that his son was missing, but his immediate defence of Claire before an accusation was made implied that he had already considered the possibility she was involved, and that concerned Jessie greatly.

  ‘I haven’t accused anyone of anything. I’m simply asking you to clarify what you meant. Please come and sit down.’

  Jessie spoke softly. Diplomacy wasn’t one of her strengths, but she did her best. And it worked.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Darren said, and sat back down. ‘My head is just…’ He sighed. ‘I’m sorry. I know you’re here to help. My God, I actually feel sick.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Jessie acknowledged his anxiety. ‘Let’s start again, shall we?’

  Darren nodded then slumped right back into the chair. ‘As I said, Claire has post-natal depression. She’s got pills for it. Health visitor does her best and Dianne next door, she’s been great, but if you want the truth it’s not been easy. Horrendous some days, in fact, but she’s making progress, I think. I thought.’ He slammed his hands to his face and shook his head. ‘I just don’t know anything any more.’

  Jessie scribbled PND into her notebook with an exclamation mark next to it. ‘I’m sorry,’ she remarked, because she was genuinely sorry. Post-natal depression left women feeling terrible. Jessie knew that. And it wasn’t easy on the families either, trying to support them while caring for the newborn.

  ‘You can’t possibly think Claire has done something to him. That’s just ridiculous and’ – he paused, his shoulders drooped – ‘I don’t know what else I can say.’

  ‘Where were you this afternoon?’ Jessie asked.

  Darren hesitated before giving his answer. ‘Work until three, then I… um...’ He shuffled to the back of his chair, tapping his feet on the floor, then sniffed uncomfortably before scratching at his head.

  Jessie’s interest increased at his reluctance to continue. ‘Then you what, Darren?’

  Darren shuffled again in the chair and smoothed down his mop of thick hair. He closed his eyes and sighed. ‘I was somewhere I shouldn’t have been.’ He muttered.

  ‘Darren?’ Claire’s dishevelled outline in the doorway immediately interrupted their conversation, just when Jessie thought she was getting somewhere. ‘What’s happening?’

  ‘Hello Claire, I’m Detective Inspector Jessie Blake. We met earlier.’ The sight of Claire stood there made Jessie’s cheek sting again.

  Claire nodded and pointed to Jessie’s face. ‘I know, and I’m sorry about that.’

  Jessie was relieved to hear it, because that memory meant Claire Lucas was lucid enough to be interviewed. A buzz from her phone distracted her. Jessie’s eyes widened – no caller ID, again. She switched her phone to silent and stuffed it back into her pocket. Her ex-husband and his games would have to wait.

  Something definitely wasn’t right between these two, and she was determined to get to the bottom of it.

  Eleven

  Dylan knocked for a second time and waited. He watched the hall light switch on before Colin opened the back door. He held up his ID and smiled.

  ‘Colin Davidson? I’m Detective Constable Dylan Logan. I know we met briefly earlier, but can I come in and speak to you and your wife, if that’s OK? I know it’s late, but the sooner we can talk to everyone the better.’

  ‘Of course. Please come in.’ Colin waved his hand to usher Dylan inside. ‘We’ve been expecting you. Terrible business. How are Darren and Claire doing? Please, come through. We can talk in the living room.’ He took hold of a gangly Labrador by the collar and pulled the dog away. ‘Go on, Benson, go to your bed.’

  Dianne Davidson was on the sofa. As Dylan walked in she tugged her long blue dressing gown tighter around her plump figure and ran her fingers through her brown, silver-peppered hair.

  ‘Hello again, Detective.’ She forced a smile. ‘How’s Claire?’

  Interesting, Dylan pondered. Dianne only asked about Claire. That statement would definitely make the hairs on Jessie’s neck stand up.

  ‘They’re doing as well as can be expected,’ replied Dylan. Dianne didn’t need to know about Dr Lambert’s visit.

  ‘Can I get you a cup of tea?’ Dianne asked. ‘Or coffee?’

  Dylan shook his head at the offer. It was already late. Coffee now would mean a sleepless night for sure.

  ‘No thanks, I’m fine. Did either of you see or hear anything out of the ordinary this afternoon, from three o’clock onwards?’

  Dianne clasped her hands to her mouth. ‘Is that when he was taken?’

  ‘We’re still trying to establish exactly what happened.’

  Colin laid his arm around Dianne’s shoulders. ‘I was at work until five, then I got home just after. I’m renovating a property at the top end of Deich Burn, so I’m only five minutes away just now.’

  ‘A nice spot.’ Dylan pursed his lips with a nod. ‘For yourselves?’

  Colin scoffed. ‘Not flipping likely. I’m a builder, not a millionaire.’

  A ghost of a smile whispered across Dylan’s lips. Shelly dreamed of owning one of the big houses along the top edge of the burn that flowed through the village. ‘Millionaire’s Row’, people joked. The cottages that lined the bottom end had been built for the mill workers and weren’t nearly as grand.

  ‘I was here most of the day, although I did take Benson out for a walk, but I didn’t hear anything,’ Dianne chirped. ‘This is so horrible. He must be so frightened. He’s just an innocent little baby. Who would do something so awful?’ Dianne had to choke back her tears. ‘Is there anything we can do to help?’

  Jessie was always telling Dylan to use his initiative. Now was the perfect opportunity. He turned to face Colin.

  ‘I would appreciate it if you could give me your permission to search your property.’

  Colin Davidson frowned. ‘Why do you need to search here?’

  ‘It’s fine, of course you can search this house,’ Dianne piped up. ‘Anything, we’ll do anything to help.’

  Colin’s eyes widened but he didn’t say anything. Instead, he lifted up his hands in defeat, clearly a little unnerved by letting the detective wander through his home.

  ‘Thank you,’ Dylan said. ‘This won’t take long, don’t worry.’ He left Colin and Dianne to their discussion and pulled the door behind him, leaving it a little ajar. Dylan paused on the stairs to listen for any exchange between the couple. Sometimes even the smallest remark can be important.

  ‘Don’t look at me like that,’ he heard Dianne say. ‘Of course he was going to want to search here, but we’ve got nothing to hide, have we?’

  Dylan put on a fresh pair of plastic gloves and opened the bathroom cabinet. He leafed through the variety of medicine packets on the top shelf. All in Dianne’s name, except the high blood pressure tablets for Colin. Dylan recognised them because they were the ones his mother took. He also recognised the antidepressant medication in Dianne’s name. He closed the door and moved into the couple’s bedroom, which was clean and tidy, if a little old-fashioned. A piece of paper, a printed-out email, caught his eye on one of the bedside units.

  ‘Interesting,’ he whispered under his breath. It was a booking confirmation for a family room for one night at a hotel in Aberdeen, close to the airport. Why not Edinburgh or Glasgow? thought Dylan. Both are much closer. The booking date was in two days. Dylan took out his phone and took a photo of the email, then placed it back down on the table. He opened the bedside drawer, hoping to find plane tickets, but there was only the usual bedside detritus: a pink glasses case; a John Grisham novel. He pulled out th
e book and leafed through the pages, then tucked it back inside and shut the drawer. On the unit top, next to an alarm clock and bedside lamp, was a small framed photo of a smiling baby girl dressed in a blue pinafore and white tights. She couldn’t be more than five or six months old. Dylan lifted it and looked at it briefly, thinking how much the infant looked like Dianne and wondering how they were related. He replaced the photo frame and turned his attention to the couple’s wardrobe.

  In the bottom of their wardrobe, attracting his attention quickly, was a box with its lid askew. He crouched down and opened the lid completely. A lump filled his throat – it was filled with memories of a baby girl, the infant in the photo, who had evidently died several years ago. The framed picture of tiny footprints was heartbreaking. Dylan hated the thought of the agony they must have felt. Becoming a father was the most wonderful thing that had ever happened to him. To lose a child must be awful. He felt guilty for prying, but that was the job. He quickly shuffled through the papers and photographs, then replaced the lid and tucked it back away neatly, out of respect. Next, he pulled down a suitcase from the top of the wardrobe. Once he had unzipped the case and looked at the unexpected contents, he knew he had several more questions for Colin and Dianne. But first, he had to tell Jessie.

  Twelve

  Darren’s phone vibrated again on the bedside cabinet. He picked it up and saw three texts and a missed call from Maggie. He didn’t have time to call her back. She was the least of his worries now. He clicked to return his dad’s missed call instead.

  ‘Hey Dad, you called?’ Darren’s voice quivered until it disappeared into a fog of foamy tears. ‘Dad.’

  Martin Lucas seemed alarmed by his son’s call, and their exchange was brief.

  Darren held the phone to his ear long after his dad had hung up.

  ‘Darren,’ Claire’s soft voice tore into his pain and he closed his eyes before turning to face her. He wiped the mess from his face and inhaled deeply before exhaling slowly, pinching back the next barrage of tears. Claire moved forward and slammed her body close to his, and Darren held her tight while she gripped on and cried into his chest.

  Jessie knocked on the Lucases’ bedroom door, feeling guilty for intruding. ‘I have to go out for a moment, but I’ve asked PC Wilde to stay with you until I get back.’

  Darren nodded at PC Isla Wilde, who smiled gently from the doorway. The twenty-five-year-old had been with Police Scotland for three years, but this was her first family liaison role. She seemed stunned when Jessie had asked her to do it, but she’d been the first officer on the scene, which was Jessie’s main motivation. Jessie tugged the back door closed behind her and raised her eyes at Dylan, who had come outside to meet her.

  ‘So, what have we got?’ she asked.

  Dylan scratched at the stubble on his chin. ‘They gave me permission to search the house.’ He clicked open the photo of the hotel booking.

  ‘Very interesting,’ Jessie muttered.

  ‘Not just that. There’s a suitcase in there filled with baby stuff and, to be honest, it looks ready to go. Really filled – nappies, wipes, onesies, hats, gloves and stuff. The kind of things me and Shelly would get ready for Jack if we were planning a trip.’

  Jessie’s eyes widened again. ‘What are they saying about it?’

  Dylan shook his head. ‘I waited for you on that one.’

  Jessie patted his arm. ‘OK. Come on, let’s see what they’ve got to say about it.’

  Dianne dropped her coffee mug into the sink when she heard the back door open and close again. Colin met the two detectives as he exited the downstairs bathroom.

  ‘Colin, I wonder if we could have a chat about the suitcase in your wardrobe?’ Jessie didn’t hang about. It was better for everyone if she came straight to the point.

  ‘Colin doesn’t know anything about it, Detective,’ Dianne declared, and turned to face them. ‘I’m sorry,’ she ended in a whisper.

  Thirteen

  The look on Darren’s face terrified Martin Lucas as he stepped into his son’s house. He couldn’t understand what was going on, and Darren hadn’t seemed able to talk on the phone without breaking down. Once he’d hung up, he’d picked up his keys and headed out to his car. Now was not the time to tell his son he’d had another letter. The third in three weeks. He was concerned that something awful had happened. Darren wasn’t the kind of man who openly showed his emotions, let alone burst into tears.

  ‘Darren, what’s happened?’ Martin moved forward to pass PC Isla Wilde, who stood by the front door.

  ‘I’m sorry, but I need to ask you to identify yourself, sir.’

  ‘He’s my dad,’ Darren announced from behind her. ‘Let him through.’

  Isla nodded and stepped aside before closing the door after him.

  Martin rushed forward as his son broke down in front of him.

  The last time he’d seen his son cry was at his mother’s funeral. That was twelve years ago, when Darren was just twelve years old. Losing his mum was hard, and having a father who couldn’t cope must have been awful for him, but Martin was proud of the way his son had turned out. He would have liked Darren and Claire to wait a little longer to have kids, but becoming a grandad was great. Martin adored Finlay.

  ‘Finlay’s gone. He’s been snatched,’ Darren blurted out between sobs.

  ‘What the hell do you mean, he’s been snatched?’ Martin couldn’t compute the information. It didn’t make any sense. ‘How? When did this happen?’ He glanced over Darren’s shoulder at Claire, then back at his son, before turning to face the young police officer. ‘Can you tell me what the hell is going on?’

  ‘Can I make us all a cup of tea?’ Isla had said it before she realised it, then blushed.

  When neither of them answered, she wondered what to do next, but she needn’t have worried. Circumstances quickly evolved in front of her. Claire clutched her forehead and announced that she felt a little dizzy, then leaned against the kitchen door frame before sliding down the wall onto the hall floor, her body writhing and twitching.

  ‘Claire!’ Darren fell to his knees and shoved the clutter of shoes and bags away from where she had fallen.

  ‘Claire has epilepsy,’ Martin explained to the startled-looking police officer. ‘She hasn’t had a seizure for years. Not even during her pregnancy. It must have been triggered by the stress of all this.’

  ‘I’ll call an ambulance.’ Isla reached for her radio.

  ‘No,’ Darren said. ‘She’ll be fine in a minute. It’s easing off now.’

  Just as he said it, Claire’s body stopped moving apart from the odd twitch, and within minutes she was sitting up, holding her head.

  ‘What happened?’ she paused, her eyes narrowed in confusion until the horrifying realisation hit her. ‘No, no, please tell me I haven’t?’ She shook her head and hammered the carpet with her fist. ‘I can’t be having seizures. Not now.’

  Darren scooped her into his arms and hugged her, whispering in her ear how much he loved her. Claire could only cling on as hard as she could and sob.

  Martin covered his mouth with his hands and exhaled sharply through his chubby fingers, then turned to Isla.

  ‘Maybe we will have that cuppa after all.’

  Fourteen

  ‘Where are you taking my wife?’ Colin shouted. ‘You can’t do this. She’s done nothing wrong. Dianne, honey, don’t worry – I’ll be right behind you.’

  ‘Mr Davidson, come on back inside.’ Jessie tried to de-escalate the situation as Dylan climbed into the car with Dianne. ‘In the light of what we’ve found, you must understand we have a few questions for your wife.’

  Dianne mouthed I’m sorry from behind the glass as the car was driven away.

  ‘Dianne,’ Colin muttered as he watched the police reverse out of his drive and disappear.

  ‘Come on back inside, Mr Davidson.’

  ‘It’s Mr Davidson now, is it?’ Colin shouted. ‘Now that you’ve decided my wife is guilty. Guilty
of what? Owning a suitcase of baby clothes?’ Colin’s anger boiled over and he vented his fury in Jessie’s direction. ‘Once my solicitor hears about this, you and your colleague are going to be the ones answering the questions.’

  The sound of shouting outside attracted Darren’s attention, and he rushed to the front door to see what was happening. He was stunned to see Dianne being driven away in the police car, and Colin arguing with one of the detectives. He was intercepted by Isla as he tried to make his way outside.

  ‘Let me past!’ he boomed, then shoved her aside with ease.

  Isla only just managed to stop herself being toppled off her feet, throwing a palm against the door frame to catch herself.

  ‘I’m so sorry. My son is not normally like this.’ Martin Lucas reached out to help Isla, then followed his son. ‘Darren!’ he called after him ‘Wait, son, wait.’

  ‘What have you done?’ Darren pushed Colin’s shoulder, almost knocking the older man off his feet, which were already slipping on the frozen ground. ‘Where’s my son?’

  A uniformed officer moved swiftly in between the two men, and Jessie was relieved he was a good two or three inches taller than both of them.

  ‘Darren, come back inside,’ Isla called out from behind Martin.

  ‘Do what she says, son,’ Martin added. ‘Come on, this won’t help them find Finlay.’

  Hearing his son’s name pushed Darren over the edge. The tension and fear burst out of him and he pulled back his fist and punched Colin, hard, almost breaking his nose.

  ‘Argh! Jesus, are you just going to stand there and do nothing?’ Colin yelled at them as he held his aching face. ‘I want him arrested.’

  ‘Darren Lucas, get back inside right now,’ Jessie shouted, ‘or I will arrest you.’

  The tense atmosphere was threatening to get out of control. Thankfully, the volume of Jessie’s voice appeared to startle Darren back to reality. He snarled one last time in Colin’s direction then went back inside.