Detective Amanda Lacey Box Set

by Linda Coles

  “Hi Sam, it’s me. I’m back,” he shouted through from the kitchen, but there was no reply. He sighed and collected himself as he opened the door into the lounge. He tried again.

  “Hi Sam, I’m home.”

  Sam turned towards him and smiled. “Hi, Duncan. I didn’t hear you drive up. Good day at work?” She muted the sound on the TV, a good start.

  “Ah, you know, it’s always tough when children are involved,” he said with a weak smile. “What’s for dinner? Is there anything made?” He was hoping, just not expecting.

  “I’ll put some soup and toast on for you. You sit down – you look done in.”

  Well, that was the truth. As for soup? At least it was hot and quick and reasonably nutritious.

  “Thanks, love. Four slices, please. I’m ravenous.” He began undoing his shoes and flicked them both off, wiggling his sock-covered toes, then flopped down on the soft sofa and closed his eyes for a moment. Sam headed into the kitchen and Duncan could hear the soup pan hitting the stove, the toaster springs creaking as bread was pushed down into it, the clink of a bowl being retrieved from the cupboard.

  And humming from Sam.

  Still with his eyes closed, he tried to figure out two things: the last time he’d heard her hum, and what the song she was humming could be. He didn’t have a clue to either of them. He opened his eyes and stared at the TV. The set was still silent; the screen showed judges scoring a batch of scones made by a group of hopefuls. He pressed the mute button again and voices filled the room. He let the mundaneness of it wash over his body while he waited.

  Sam put her head around the door. “Who won the challenge?”

  “Sorry, Sam, I wasn’t paying much attention. I didn’t hear.”

  Sam flitted back into the kitchen to pour the soup and Duncan sensed that she was on edge again. He cringed; the slightest thing could end in a row, he knew, and he desperately wanted to avoid one. Not only that, he hadn’t the energy left to defend himself. He closed his eyes again and only opened them when the soup and toast arrived on a tray. Sam placed it roughly on the coffee table in front of him; some of the liquid slopped over the edge of the bowl. He said nothing, and neither did Sam. Instead, he stood and went to get some paper towel from the kitchen to mop it up. He was careful not to meet her eyes.

  “I’ve missed the end now. I don’t know who won,” she whined accusingly.

  Duncan concentrated on his toast, crunching loudly. Crumbs dropped into his tomato soup, his favourite. He heard her huffs and puffs of exasperation at missing the end of her program, but he carried on eating, willing her tension to drop back to a near normal level.

  The last couple of days at work had been tough, and the nights at home were not much better. Their house wasn’t what you’d call a relaxing environment to come home to. And he hadn’t seen his two girls in three days. They were always still in bed when he left and fast asleep when he returned. He’d look in and kiss them anyway when he’d finished his supper, but it wasn’t ideal. If he got some down time at the weekend he’d make it up to them, but that depended on the case. Leave had been suspended and everyone was expected to join in the search; the department was throwing all available resources at this case in the hope that the two missing children would be brought home alive and well, and quickly. They all knew the first twenty-four hours were crucial, and that deadline had passed, meaning the chances of the children’s safe return had slimmed down considerably. Nobody voiced the reality, of course, but everyone doggedly kept their hopes up.

  He was aware the volume on the TV was back up and Sam was talking.

  “You didn’t hear a word of that, did you?”

  Here we go.

  “Sorry, Sam, I was miles away. What did you say?”

  “Oh, never mind! You’re no different when you are here to when you’re not here. I’m talking to myself either way.” She got up and stomped towards the stairs in an obvious huff, but Duncan called her back before she had chance to disappear.

  “I said sorry, Sam. What did you want to ask me?” He stood up to make his point, hands on his hips. He really didn’t want to go there again – not another row, not tonight.

  “Oh, just fuck off, would you?” she yelled, and thumped up the stairs. There was little point Duncan saying anything or going after her; it would certainly turn nasty while she was in such a foul mood. He flopped back down, deflated, muted the TV again and tried to finish his soup and toast, but the food stuck in his throat. It was like eating balls of cotton wool dipped in ketchup. He dropped his spoon onto the tray, stood, and took his things to the sink where he rinsed his dishes. He opened the dishwasher door. It was still full of dirty dishes from earlier in the day.

  “Dear Lord,” he said to himself. Sighing, he put a tablet in the soap dispenser and switched the machine on, leaving his tray on the kitchen bench until the morning. Exhausted, he quietly slipped upstairs, avoiding the bedroom he shared with Sam. Instead, he tiptoed to the girls’ room and kissed his two sleeping beauties on their foreheads, being careful not to wake them. Leaving their door open just a crack, he tiptoed to the bathroom and brushed his teeth, then slipped into the PJs that hung on the back of the bathroom door, grabbed a couple of blankets from the hall cupboard, and settled himself back down on the sofa for the night. Within ten minutes of lying down, he was fast asleep, the TV still flickering.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Sam lay alone in the double bed seething inwardly. She’d heard him climb the stairs and go into see the girls, but then he’d surprised her and gone back down to the TV room. When she’d crept to the bathroom shortly after, Sam had noticed his PJs, which normally hung on the back of the bathroom door were gone. He must have collected them with the intention of staying well away from her for the rest of the night, and that was a first for them both. The thought depressed her. But really, what did she expect after telling him to do one and then storming upstairs, closing their bedroom door behind her? It was hardly an invitation for some love and affection, now, was it?

  The digital clock read 12.15 a.m., and sleep eluded her as usual. She knew it was going to be a long night. Perhaps she could get through to the kitchen unnoticed and make herself some tea, though she didn’t want to face him if he awoke. She felt a twinge of guilt for her overreaction this time, but she knew her short temper was a symptom of how their relationship had deteriorated over the last six months or so. There was little love between them now.

  Love. Where had it gone?

  Sam flipped the bedside lamp on and the room glowed a pale peach colour, not bright enough to read by but just bright enough to fall asleep by. On the cabinet next to her pillow sat a wedding picture of the two of them. They would be ten years married next anniversary round, and Sam stared at the picture, dissecting herself ruthlessly. How she’d changed over the decade from that day. Her sun-kissed hair had been styled in an attractive and romantic up-do with tiny flowers woven through. Her figure had been slender in the full-length creamy silk slip dress, and she had looked radiant. Duncan for his part had looked happy and handsome. His cravat matched her dress and those of the two tiny bridesmaids. The sun had shone gloriously as the photographer had snapped away in the church gardens; the roses had been in full bloom. Where had those two happy people vanished?

  Sam looked at the young bridesmaids again. They had been the same ages then as her two girls were now, and she stroked their bright little faces through the glass. Thoughts of that day, their vanished happiness and the two little girls fast asleep in the other room made her eyes brim with tears. But she caught herself, wiped them away with the hem of the bedsheet and climbed out of bed, headed for Jasmine’s room next door. The handle creaked a little as it turned and she slipped inside, closing the door quietly behind her. She heard the light sounds of a little body breathing peacefully, unaware there was someone stood by the bed, watching and listening. She knelt down beside the bed and whispered what she wanted to say, knowing there was no way anyone could or would hear h
er.

  “You know how much I love you, both of you, don’t you? I hope you do, my love, because I’ll do whatever it takes to keep my two precious girls safe from harm and always happy. Whatever it takes, understand? You’ll always have me, your mother, looking over you, no matter what. I just want you to know that. No matter what.”

  Standing, she kissed Jasmine lightly on the cheek and headed to Victoria’s room, to check on her and kiss her goodnight. Once she was satisfied both were settled and fast asleep, she went out to her own room and the empty bed and climbed back in. The sheets were now cool and the temperature in the room seemed to have dropped a few degrees, so she burrowed down under the covers, pulling them up over her head, and finally let the tears fall freely.

  Eventually, Sam fell into a deep, undisturbed sleep. She slept so soundly, in fact, that she slept through the alarm the following morning. When she finally did come to, it was gone nine o’clock. Her first thought was the girls.

  “Oh, hell!” she groaned, scrambling out of bed. “The girls!” She grabbed her robe as she flew from her room. Unsurprisingly, the girls’ door was open and the bed was empty. Victoria’s room was empty as well. Calling their names, her heart pounding, she catapulted herself down the stairs at speed and flung the lounge door open.

  “Jasmine! Victoria! Where are you?”

  That room was empty, too, but she noticed two folded blankets on the arm of the sofa. Duncan must have stayed there all night and tidied them away earlier this morning. She dashed through to the kitchen, expecting to see two small faces eating Cocoa Pops at the table, but it was empty.

  “Jasmine! Victoria! Where are you?” she called again. But it was obvious the house was empty.

  The girls were gone.

  Perhaps Duncan had got them ready and taken them to school? But why hadn’t he woken her? She looked around the work surface for a note, but there was nothing. If Duncan had taken them to school, he wouldn’t have been so heartless to not leave a note, would he? There was only one way to find out. She’d have to call him.

  Then a thought hit her. What if he had taken them? He would know she had only just got up and would be furious with her for oversleeping. But what if he hadn’t taken them? That would be far worse. There was no choice: she dialled his number and waited for it to connect.

  “Hi,” he said evenly.

  Sam blurted out her question. “Did you take the girls to school?”

  “What? No, I left around seven a.m. Why, was I supposed to today? Have I forgotten something?”

  “No, you weren’t. It’s just, well I overslept and when I woke up, they were both gone. I figured you had taken them, but there was no note.” Her voice rose in panic as the tears came.

  “Oh my God! Where are they?”

  Sam disconnected the call and raced back upstairs, calling her children’s names, but the house was still eerily quiet. She knew they were gone.

  And now Duncan was heading back home.

  “My babies, where are you?” she wailed as she threw on jeans and a sweater. Oh God… Tears blurred her vision. She’d finally done it. She’d screwed up and lost them forever. How the hell had she managed to oversleep and not hear them? How long had they been gone? Stuffing her feet into her old trainers by the front door, she grabbed her jacket from the banister rail and fled the house.

  It was freezing cold outside, but at least it wasn’t raining. Calling for Jasmine and Victoria, her eyes flitting frantically from side to side, she zipped up her jacket as she trotted along, trying to keep from screaming. No, that wouldn’t do. They had to be close by. Maybe they were playing in a neighbour’s yard. Had they got coats on? she wondered. Why hadn’t she checked that before legging it out in a rush? Picking up the pace, she rushed down the street, still calling, stopping everyone she passed to ask if they’d seen two little girls out on their own.

  Nobody had.

  After circling the immediate streets and looking over garden hedges calling their names, she slowed to a walk again and then stood still, a heavy feeling of dread settling in her gut.

  What the hell had happened to them?

  What the hell had she done? She was to blame, and now she had no choice but to call Duncan again and update him. With shaking hands, she punched his number into her mobile again.

  “I’m nearly home now,” he said. “Meet me back there and we’ll form a plan.”

  He didn’t sound mad at her, only concerned. But she knew his anger at her stupidity, her carelessness, would come. The blame game would start all over again, and she’d get to be the loser this time for sure.

  But another question entered her head. How had they actually got outside if they’d gone under their own steam? Duncan always locked the door behind him when he left so early – always. Though if the door had been left unlocked, it would have been all too easy for an intruder to enter.

  And help themselves.

  She couldn’t bear to think about that.

  So, had the door been left unlocked while she slept? That would be the first question she’d asked Duncan when he got home.

  She was rounding the corner at the end of the street when she saw his car pull up outside their house. She broke into a run and called out to him.

  “Duncan!”

  He stood and watched as she slowed to a stop, breathless after the short distance.

  “I’ve looked around here locally – nothing. I can’t think where they’d have gone.” She bent and put her hands on her knees, gasping.

  Duncan, always the calm one, asked, “Have you checked their school? Maybe they just went on their own.”

  She shook her head. “I just panicked and went out to look, and then I called you. Oh, Duncan! Where can they have got to?”

  But Duncan was busy dialling the school. He spoke to the secretary and then listened gravely, nodding. He asked her to call if she did see them and then ended the call. He shook his head at Sam.

  “I’m taking that as a no, then?” she said, her mouth dry.

  “That’s right.” His voice tightened. “Where the hell were you?”

  “I overslept. I didn’t hear a thing.”

  Slowly, his next words scraped through his teeth. “You have one job and one job only, and that is to take care of our girls and the house. And you can’t even do that properly.” He paused and took a breath, visibly controlling himself. “You are aware there is someone taking children out there at the moment, I assume? Two young girls are already unaccounted for. I hope to God you haven’t doubled that.”

  “Did you lock the door after you when you left this morning?” she asked.

  “What? Of course I did.” Then he got her meaning. “Oh, so you think I’m to blame, then, do you, for leaving the door unlocked?” His voice rose several octaves, incredulous. “Well, I locked it. I always lock it. It’s what I do to keep my family safe. But I’m not the one they’re left in charge with. That falls on you – but you were too busy sleeping, and now look!”

  Sam hadn’t got the words to fight back. She knew she’d screwed up. The girls were her responsibility while she was at home all day.

  Duncan could see the fight had left her and calmed a little as tears filled her eyes again. The detective in him took over from the father.

  “Look, this is getting us nowhere. Tell me where you’ve looked so far, and I’ll get a couple of the lads to give us a hand. If we haven’t found them in the next two hours, we’ll make an official missing persons report. I need you to make a list of all of their friends and favourite places and we’ll start there. Okay?”

  Sam nodded her agreement, glad he was taking over, giving them a plan to work to. She went back inside to get a pen and paper and make the list. When it was complete, she sat and began calling the parents of their daughters’ friends.

  Chapter Fifteen

  His heart in his mouth, Duncan drove the local streets looking for his two little sweethearts, fighting down a rising sense of panic. How far could two little girls go on
their own? Heavens, they were only seven and eight and, to his knowledge, not particularly street-smart. The streets worried him, particularly the busy main A57 road that led into the city. If they’d gone anywhere near there… It didn’t bear thinking about. He’d called Rochelle and she’d organized a couple of uniformed officers to give them a hand. Right now, four units were actively looking. In another hour, he’d pull out every stop that he could to bring them home safely. Sometimes being in the police had its perks, though he hoped he never needed to use his colleagues again.

  Disappointment in Sam stabbed his heart again. Try as he might, he couldn’t get her out of his mind. The last few months had been hard to watch, hard to understand, and hard to deal with. And now this. It couldn’t get any worse than this. What his future with Sam was he was unsure, but he knew one thing. If he left, if they split up, he would take the girls with him, because no judge in the world would let her have custody of them after this. He’d see to it. These cases were usually stacked against the male parents, he knew, but not this time. His phone rang. Rochelle.

  “I’m guessing nothing at your end?” she asked him.

  “Sadly, no. I can’t see how they could have gone so far away. Even if they left right after me at seven a.m., which they wouldn’t have, they’re on foot.” He didn’t want to think about them getting a lift with a stranger. “How far can two sets of tiny feet go?”

  “We’ll find them, Duncan,” she told him determinedly. “It’s really early on. They’re probably playing somewhere, unaware of the commotion going on to find them. And when they get hungry, they’ll be back up your front path before you know it.”

  Duncan knew she was trying to be optimistic; he’d told many parents the same story. But he knew the statistics; that was the downside to being a detective.