Hushabye (18 page)

Olbeck checked the sat nav.

“We’re almost there. Hold tight.”

No one came to answer the door, even after repeated pealing of the doorbell. The house was a semi-detached Edwardian building, handsome and well-kept. Kate peered through the front bay window at a pleasant, tidy sitting room.

“Are you looking for someone?” asked a woman who was walking up the path of the house next door. She was a middle-aged lady with greyish-blonde hair, clothes and accent impeccable.

“Rebecca D’Arcy-Warner,” said Kate. “Have you seen her recently?”

“Not for weeks,” said the neighbour. “It’s funny you ask because I was thinking to myself it’s ages since I’ve seen Rebecca, and I was almost wondering whether she’d moved. Not that she’d have gone without saying goodbye, I’m sure.”

“Thank you, Mrs – ?”

“Mrs Smithson, Barbara Smithson.” She looked startled at the production of their warrant cards. “Oh dear, there isn’t any trouble is there?”

Kate hastened to reassure her. “We’re just anxious to have a chat with Ms D’Arcy-Warner,” she said. “Are you close friends with her?”

“Well, not especially close, I suppose. We’re
friendly
. Well, you have to be, being neighbours, don’t you?”

Olbeck stepped forward.

“May we have a word with you, Mrs Smithson? Me and my colleague would like to talk to someone who knows Rebecca, even if it is on a casual basis.”

“Rebecca’s a very nice person. She would always sign for any parcels if they came while I was out, and when my husband and I went away on holiday last year, she kept an eye on the house for us, watered the plants, that sort of thing.”

“So she was a good neighbour?” asked Olbeck, nursing a mug of weak coffee.

“Yes. I mean, I don’t know her
well
or anything like that, but she is certainly a very pleasant person.”

Kate sat still with difficulty. She felt fizzy with energy, itching to
do
something. What she didn’t want to do was sit around drinking yet another hot drink and listening to the meaningless pleasantries of this neighbour. She forced herself to sit still.

“Rebecca’s not married, is she?” said Olbeck.

Mrs Smithson shook her head. “No, she’s not.”

“Does she have a boyfriend? A partner?”

“I wouldn’t know. I don’t think so. I’ve not seen her with anyone here.”

“Has she had many visitors in the last few weeks that you’re aware of?”

Mrs Smithson sat, twisting her hands. “I’m not sure,” she said, nervously. “I haven’t noticed anyone in particular.”

This was useless. Kate tried to beam her thoughts into Olbeck’s head. If he wasn’t going to make a move soon, she would do it for him. “Well, that’s–” she began, standing up, when Mrs Smithson exclaimed.

“Oh, I almost forgot. I took in a parcel for Rebecca myself, not that long ago. That one up there.” She indicated a box on the kitchen dresser. “I expected she’d call round for it, but I haven’t seen her for so long, I quite forgot about it.”

“May I have a look?” said Kate, not waiting for an answer. She lifted the box, shook it and then opened it. Mrs Smithson made a small noise of protest, but by that time, both Olbeck and Kate could see what the parcel contained. It was a baby monitor.

Kate called Anderton as they drove to Cudston Magna. She appraised him of the situation in a few short sentences.

“Good, do just that,” he said after she stopped speaking. “Don’t go in hard, though. This could be very tricky.”

“But I can arrest?”

“Yes, of course. I’m sending Theo and Jerry over as well for back up.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Chapter Twenty

She and Olbeck didn’t speak for the rest of the journey. He was concentrating on driving, and she held onto her knees, gripping tightly to stop her fingers shaking. At last, they were turning down the driveway of the manor house, the gravel making a rushing noise under the wheels. The house looked peaceful, its many windows glittering in the weak spring sunlight.

No one came to the door. Kate tried it and rattled the door handle.

“Locked,” she said to Olbeck.

“Let’s walk around, there must be another way.”

“We could break it down.”

Olbeck hesitated. “Let’s–” The door began to open, slowly and creakily.

The Brigadier stood on the threshold, blinking at them. “Yes?” he said, screwing up his eyes against the brightness of the day after the dimness of the hallway.

Kate held up her warrant card.

“Police, sir. We urgently need to speak to your daughter.”

“Yes?”

He hadn’t moved. Kate made a noise of impatience and pushed past him into the house. She looked up at the staircase and there, frozen on the top step, was Rebecca D’Arcy-Warner. Their eyes locked.

“Rebecca–” Kate began and then the woman on the stairs whirled around and ran.

Kate didn’t stop to think. She let her legs carry her up the staircase, her arms pumping, heart racing. She heard Olbeck shout something, but by that time she was up on the landing. A door slammed at the far end of the corridor.

Kate ran quickly down the hall and wrenched open the door. Inside was a bedroom, with the unlived stillness of a guest room. Rebecca appeared to have disappeared into thin air. Kate bent down and checked under the bed. Against the far wall was another door. Bracing herself, Kate yanked it open.

Another staircase, a plain wooden one this time. How big was this house? Kate’s heart was thumping. She knew she should wait for Olbeck, the two of them should go together, but she couldn’t. She ran up the stairs, past a large window. Outside, she could see Theo’s car drawing to a halt, scattering gravel. She ran on, through another door and into another corridor. She seemed to be in the upper stories of the house now. She stopped for a second, holding her breath and trying to listen above the rushing of blood in her ears. Above her head, a floorboard creaked.

She opened a door to an empty room, save for a drift of cardboard boxes in the corner. She tried another door which led to a small and shabby bathroom. This was hopeless. Rebecca could be anywhere. Her radio crackled, making her jump.

“Where the hell are you?” Olbeck hissed at her over the airwaves.

“Don’t know. Have you spotted her?”

“The Major says there’s an attic, a big one. We’re coming up. Wait for–”

“I don’t have time to wait!”

“Kate–”

She’d turned and started running again.

She found another corridor after the third door she tried opened. This was a smaller hallway, uncarpeted and ending in a small, steep flight of steps. Kate pattered along. The stairs ended in yet another door. Kate went through it and stopped dead.

She was standing in a small, white-painted room with a cream carpet. There was a cot. There was a Moses basket. There was a white-painted chest of drawers, with baby clothes stacked along the top. There was Rebecca D’Arcy-Warner standing at the far end of the room, a sleeping baby in her arms.

Kate stood stock still. She breathed out slowly.

“Charlie,” she said.

Rebecca’s eyes were fixed on her face. She was standing by another door, a small one, barely half the size of a normal door. Keeping her eyes on Kate, Rebecca extended a free hand and turned the handle of the door.

“Rebecca,” said Kate. “I can help you. Please give Charlie to me.”

Rebecca said nothing. Her face was a curious, blank mask, devoid of expression. She stooped, never taking her eyes off Kate and bent to get through the small doorway.

“Wait–” said Kate, moving forward, but Rebecca and the baby were gone.

Kate rushed forward and crouched, pushing herself through the doorway. She straightened up and realised she was on the roof of the house. This part was flat, covered with some sort of tarred covering. The wind hit her, whipping her ponytail up. She looked around wildly. Rebecca and Charlie were standing by the edge of the roof, where a tiny iron balustrade provided no stability at all against the long drop. Rebecca’s red hair swirled around her face, and Charlie’s blanket fluttered in the wind.

Kate inched forward. Rebecca took a step nearer the edge of the roof.

“Wait,” said Kate. Her voice was shaking. “Just wait. I can help you.”

Rebecca said nothing.

“Look,” said Kate. “I’m stopping right here. I won’t come any closer. Why don’t you come over here a bit and we can talk? We can talk about anything you want to talk about.”

Rebecca remained silent.

“We can talk about Charlie, if you like. Or Nick. Or anything. Why not just come over here a bit and I can help you with whatever it is you need help with.”

“Nick,” said Rebecca suddenly. Her arms tightened about Charlie. “
Nick
.”

“You must be very angry with him.”

Rebecca made a gasping noise, air rushing inwards.

“Angry? Angry doesn’t even come close to it. Do you know what it feels like to lose the chance of having a child? To wait and wait for your partner to grow up and want to be a father?”

“That must have been so hard,” said Kate. She took a tiny step forward and then another.

“
Ten years
I waited for him to propose. Ten years, I waited for him to give me a child. Ten years of watching my fertility just drain away. He kept fobbing me off. He kept telling me ‘one day.’”

“That’s so cruel,” said Kate, stepping a little bit nearer.

“I just waited and waited. Don’t rush him, I told myself. Don’t rush him. All the while, it was just getting harder and harder. We used to go to weddings... other people would get married, but not us. I used to have to watch other women get married, have babies, everyone was having babies – but not me. I kept thinking there was still time. Do you know what it’s like to watch your chances just evaporate into thin air? Whilst everyone else around you gets what they want?

“I know,” said Kate, holding out her hands, palm up. “I know.”

“He was such a
child
. That’s what he wanted – a mother. That’s why he was with me. He knew I’d mother him. He just kept fobbing me off!”

“I’m sorry, Rebecca.”

“He robbed me!”

“It must have been so awful for you,” soothed Kate. She looked at Charlie, sleeping so peacefully in his kidnapper’s arms. One little hand opened and closed like a starfish.

Rebecca suddenly seemed to become aware that Kate had nearly reached her. She gasped and stepped nearer the edge.

“Wait!” said Kate. Her stomach churned. “I can help you. I know you don’t want to hurt Charlie, do you?”

Rebecca looked down at the baby. Her face contracted for a moment.

“I never meant any harm,” she whispered.

“You’re fine, you’re fine,” said Kate, shivering in the cold wind. “I can help you. Won’t you give me Charlie to hold for a moment?”

Rebecca tightened her grip.

“Ten years,” she said. “Ten years of being told he wasn’t interested in marriage and children. And within a year he’d married someone else and was a father.”

“It’s so hard,” said Kate. She held out her arms. “Why not let me hold Charlie for a bit? Or shall we take him back inside? It’s getting cold out here. Don’t you think we should take him back inside?”

Rebecca was trembling

“I knew the security code,” she said. “I knew the number he used. You’d think most people would use something like their birthday or their
loved one’s
birthday. That would be the normal thing to do.” She laughed a mirthless laugh. “Nick used the date he made his first million.” She laughed again and the laughter trailed off into something that was closer to a sob.

“You poor thing,” said Kate. “Let’s go inside, shall we? Shall I hold Charlie for a bit?”

Rebecca didn’t seem to have heard her. She was staring down at Charlie’s peaceful face.

“I only wanted what was mine,” she said. “He’s mine. He should have been mine.”

“Of course he is,” said Kate. “He’s beautiful. Could I hold him for a second?”

She held her breath. Rebecca stared at the baby. Then she slowly extended her arms. Kate inched forward, barely breathing. She felt the light weight of the baby and slowly, oh so slowly, drew him towards her.

“He’s a beautiful baby, Rebecca,” she said, her voice shaking. She didn’t dare step backwards yet for fear that Rebecca would grab him back. “He’s so lovely.”

Rebecca looked at the baby wrapped in his blankets. She put one finger out – Kate managed not to flinch – and touched the baby’s firm little cheek. He turned his face towards the touch, making little sucking motions with his tiny mouth.

“Charlie,” whispered Rebecca.

Then she turned and stepped off the edge of the roof, lifting her feet to clear the iron balustrade. Kate heard her intake of breath as she stepped out into nothingness, into the void, but there was no sound, no scream as she fell, no sound at all until her body hit the ground far below.

Chapter Twenty One

Anderton loomed above the table, carrying a tray filled with clinking glasses.

“Your cranberry juice, DS Redman ” he said, placing the drink in front of Kate. “Don’t drink it all at once.”

“I won’t.”

“Sure you don’t want a proper drink, DS Redman?”

“For Christ’s sake,” snapped Kate. “Just call me Kate, all right?” Anderton said nothing. “Sir,” she added.

He grinned and gave her a strange look, wry and approving at the same time, as if she’d passed some sort of secret test.

“Cheers,” said Olbeck, clinking his pint glass against Anderton’s and then against Kate’s dainty pink drink.

They all drank for a moment and, in unison, put their slightly emptier glasses back on the table.

There was a moment’s silence, broken only by the beeping of the slot machine in the corner of the pub.

“How did she think she was going to get away with it?” said Kate, knowing someone would have to start, and it may as well be her.

“Public school arrogance,” said Olbeck. “They think they’re invincible. They are never wrong.”

Kate raised her eyebrows at him.

“I know,” he said. “I went to public school.”