Missing (10 page)

‘Hi, it’s me,’ she said, when her mother answered.

‘Yes, I thought it might be. How are you?’

‘Miles called again. He wanted to see me.’

Her mother’s voice deepened slightly as she said, ‘What are you going to do?’

‘I want to see him, obviously, but …’

‘Not yet?’ her mother finished for her.

Attempting to swallow her frustration, Vivienne said, ‘How’s Rufus?’

‘He’s fine.’

‘Has anyone been in touch with you? The police, or anyone from the press?’

‘If they had, I’d have told you.’

Knowing that was true Vivienne felt some of the tension going out of her, and slowing her pace she turned to stare out across the river. On the opposite bank a fisherman was wading into the mud, while behind him joggers, cyclists and dog walkers were crossing one another on the leafy path. Spotting a woman with blonde hair she felt a jolt inside, and followed her progress to the small terrace where Alice lived. As the woman turned to descend the steps she waved to someone out of sight, and a moment later she was gone.

‘Are you still there?’ her mother asked.

‘Yes. I’m hoping to be home around seven tomorrow night. Is that OK?’

‘Of course.’

She took a breath. ‘Mum?’

‘Yes?’

‘Don’t think too badly of him. It’s not his fault.’

‘Not everything, no, but some of it is.’

Feeling a quickening of her temper, Vivienne bit it back and said, ‘I have to go now. I’ll call again later.’

After clicking off the line she was about to head back to the office when her mobile bleeped with a message. Expecting it to be from one of the journalists she’d already contacted about the slave auction, she opened it up and read the text. Seconds later her pace slowed to a halt as her heart started to freeze.

U must b wondrng whr Mrs A is by now. Or do u alrdy knw?

PS: I know about the little secret you’re hiding.

Snapping the phone shut, she ran back along the towpath.

‘Read that,’ she said, bursting in through the office door and thrusting her mobile at Alice. ‘The last text. Read it.’

As she waited, Vivienne turned to an astonished Kayla and Pete. ‘Someone seems to think I know what’s happened to Jacqueline,’ she told them angrily.

Pete’s eyes boggled. ‘No shit,’ he murmured. ‘Let me see that,’ and taking the mobile he read the message too.

‘We need to find out who it’s from,’ Kayla cut in, and whisking the phone away she started to check. ‘Private number,’ she pronounced.

‘It’s Justine James, obviously,’ Vivienne fumed. ‘She’s trying to get to me and godammit, it’s starting to work.’

‘So what are you going to do?’ Alice asked.

‘What can I do?’ Vivienne cried in anger. ‘She’s got my number, so I obviously can’t stop her sending texts.’

‘Maybe you should contact the police?’

Vivienne’s eyes closed. ‘No,’ she murmured. ‘No, I can’t do that. Not yet, anyway.’

Alice glanced at the others.

‘I don’t think you’re going to want to hear this much,’ Kayla said, ‘but while you were out the Justine rang here and left a message.’

‘No, I really don’t want to hear it,’ Vivienne confirmed, going to hang up her coat. ‘She’s coming at me from all sides, so just keep her out of my hair and whatever you do, make sure she never gets through that door. Now, I need to speak to someone in Devon to get directions for next Monday.’

‘I’ll do that,’ Kayla told her. ‘You’ve still got a stack of calls to get through from this morning. I should just add though, that the Justine asked me to tell you that she’s having dinner with Miles this evening.’

Vivienne stopped in her tracks, her heart somersaulting inside her.
PS: I know about the little secret you’re hiding
.

‘Remember,’ Pete jumped in hastily, ‘that woman knows how to press all the buttons, so don’t dance to her tune – unless, of course, you want to put the rest of us out of our misery and find out whether she really is having dinner with him.’

Vivienne looked at Alice, and knew right away that their minds were running along the same tracks. ‘No,’ she said angrily, ‘this is just another trick to make me call her back. She’s not seeing Miles at all.’ She put a hand to her head, trying to make herself think. ‘OK,
I’ve
got two options,’ she said finally. ‘I can ring Miles to find out if it’s true, or I can do nothing and hope it ends up calling the damned woman’s bluff.’

No one said anything, they didn’t have to, because she knew from the way they were looking at her, that they were all thinking the same thing. There was a chance this might not be about Jacqueline, and if it wasn’t, surely to God she shouldn’t be running the risk of Miles finding out from Justine that he had a fifteen-month-old son.

‘Miles,’ Justine smiled, stepping in through the front door of his three-storey Kensington town house. ‘How lovely to see you.’

‘Hello Justine,’ he responded, brushing her cheek with a friendly kiss. ‘How are you?’

‘Not bad,’ she replied, as he closed the door. ‘Still surprised by your call. It’s been a while. You have to stop burying yourself away down there in Devon. We miss you in London.’

There was irony in his expression as he said, ‘Come on through,’ and after taking her coat he turned to lead the way across the hall into a large, brightly lit beechwood kitchen where the TV was on and the mouth-watering smell of spicy cooking was filling the warm air. ‘Can I get you a drink?’ he offered. ‘There’s red wine already open, or vodka—’

‘Red wine sounds good,’ she interrupted, looking around. It was a much more homely kitchen than she’d imagined, considering what she knew of Jacqueline, with all kinds of pots and herbs, and garlic ropes hanging from hooks around the range and overhead racks, and an impressive collection of gadgets snagged to the cream-tiled walls.

‘I hope you don’t mind coming here,’ he said. ‘I thought it would be easier to talk than if we went out somewhere. One or other of us is bound to run into someone we know.’

‘Here’s fine by me,’ she assured him. Then, noting a tajine on one of the burners, ‘What are we eating?’

‘Moroccan chicken.’ He passed her a glass, then picked up his own. ‘Cheers,’ he said. ‘And thanks for making it at such short notice.’

Her gaze remained on his as she sipped. She wouldn’t tell him wild horses couldn’t have kept her away, because he didn’t need to know that. ‘So,’ she said, as he turned back to the range, ‘I take it your dear wife is still in absentia.’

‘She is,’ he confirmed. ‘May I ask how you know?’

She gave an incredulous laugh. ‘You must be aware that your local TV station ran the story tonight.’

‘But it’s in Devon and you’re here, and my guess is you knew before.’

‘Ah, well, I’d be slipping if I didn’t, but it was only the local stringer who tipped me the wink. Nothing sinister. No spies in the Avery camp.’

He gave her a quick glance and reached for the pepper mill. ‘So what’s the general opinion?’ he enquired. ‘Have I done away with her? Has she done away with herself? Or maybe she’s found what she’s always been looking for.’

‘I’d say it’s about sixty–forty in favour of you doing away with her,’ she told him mischievously, while going to perch on one of the thickly padded bar stools.

‘And which camp are you in?’

‘Me, I’m torn. There’s always the chance she’s doing this to torment you, or to get some attention. After all, it wouldn’t be the first time. However, it’s equally
possible
that you finally flipped and decided to do away with her, for which not many would blame you, but if that is the case, I don’t think you acted alone.’

Knowing that in spite of the tone, nothing had been said lightly, Miles denied her the satisfaction of appearing ruffled, and merely raised his eyebrows curiously as he said, ‘And my accomplice would be?’

‘Well, Kelsey might have had a hand in it,’ she suggested. ‘Revenge for all the years of rejection and bad parenting, as well as forcing that overdose down her throat a couple of years ago. Or, I’m wondering if Vivienne Kane might have had something—’

‘Let’s leave Vivienne out of this,’ he said, cutting her off.

She smiled and took a sip of wine. She was starting to enjoy this now. ‘Have you seen her lately?’ she ventured.

‘No.’

‘Very wise. You wouldn’t want to be calling attention to your relationship …’

‘Justine,’ he warned, ‘there are limits to how much licence I’m going to allow you on this and you’re pushing them very hard right now.’

‘OK. This is me backing off,’ she told him pleasantly, ‘but you can’t blame me for trying. It’s my job, remember?’

Treating her to one of his famously sardonic looks, he turned back to his cooking.

She drank some more, and felt the pleasure of being with him steal through her with the same intoxicating warmth as the wine. It was remarkable, she thought, how being in his company could seem like the only really worthwhile place to be. He had that effect on others too, male as well as female: his charisma had
often
been discussed in offices and bars, and added to the list of qualities that made journalists so keen to work for him.

‘So tell me what else is happening in your life,’ she said, resting her elbows on the counter top. ‘The last I heard you’d been approached by Channel Four news, so do I take it you turned them down?’

‘We’re still talking, but I have other irons in the fire.’

‘So you
are
planning to go back to work? I mean apart from the weekly columns, guest editing and non-executive directorships. I thought maybe you were having too much fun as one of the idle rich.’

‘Don’t ever make the mistake of thinking I’m that,’ he told her seriously. ‘Practically everything I have – had – went into death duties and renovating the house, so believe me, I need to work.’

‘Well, that’s good news for some. I, for one, wouldn’t mind having you as my boss again, but you already know that—’

‘What’s happening in your world?’ he interrupted, clearly not wanting to discuss her ambitions.

With a dismissive wave of her hand she said, ‘Oh, everything’s pretty much the same. The Critch is his usual obnoxious self, the celebrities get younger and stupider by the day, and my colleagues get sassier and prettier by the minute.’

He cocked an eyebrow.

She mirrored his expression, but said no more, for she wasn’t about to tell him how bad things really were. Knowing him he’d be fully aware of it anyway, for very little ever got past Miles. ‘Can I do anything to help?’ she offered.

‘Actually, you could set the table,’ he told her. ‘I
thought
we’d eat in the conservatory. The heating’s on. Everything’s out there.’

After doing the honours, she wandered back into the kitchen and picked up her wine again. ‘So how worried are you about Jacqueline?’ she asked, bluntly. ‘On a scale of one to ten.’

‘I’d put it at eight.’

She nodded thoughtfully. ‘High,’ she commented. ‘Where do you think she is?’

Taking a step back as a cloud of steam rose up from a boiling pan of couscous, he said, ‘If I knew, she wouldn’t be missing.’

‘Very droll. So will you be making an appeal to the public, asking if anyone’s seen her?’

‘I believe that’s what the police did this evening.’

‘Not the same as the husband, or the daughter, doing it though, is it? How is Kelsey, by the way?’

‘She’s fine, considering.’

She watched him sample the chickpea sauce he had simmering around the chicken legs, then took some from the spoon he offered. ‘Mm, heaven,’ she declared, as the spicy flavours unfolded over her tongue. ‘Will you marry me, if we find out you’re free?’

‘Tasteless.’

‘No, I swear, it’s delicious.’

His eyes narrowed, and returning to the stove he said, ‘It’s time I told you the reason I invited you here.’

Intrigued, she sipped some more wine.

‘I want you to try and find out what Jacqueline was doing during the weeks before she left,’ he stated.

Justine stared at his hands, not moving, not even sure she’d heard right.

‘I’d rather not have you working against me,’ he told her frankly, ‘and we both know that’s what the Critch
will
want. Not that I mind what’s written about me, but it hurts children to see their parents lambasted, or incorrectly accused of crimes they haven’t committed, and I think you’ll agree my daughter’s been through enough.’

‘Of course,’ she replied, ‘but I have to confess to being surprised at your asking me, considering what happened in the past.’

He turned to look at her.

‘Vivienne’s convinced I’m responsible for the article that brought Jacqueline back from the States,’ she reminded him. ‘And as far as I’m aware, your daughter is too.’

‘I know you better than they do,’ he responded, ‘so I’m in no doubt that the Critch forced your hand over that.’

Her eyebrows rose. ‘So you do think I was involved?’

‘As I said, I know your hand was forced – and I know your style, so I’m fully aware of which parts were written by you, and how much was added, or changed, by him. In my book I have you to thank for it not being even more damaging than it was.’

‘The outcome was still pretty horrific.’

‘Not even the Critch could have known Jacqueline would go that far, which doesn’t let him off the hook. As far as I’m concerned, he’s swinging high.’

She nodded her agreement. ‘So what you’re asking now,’ she said, ‘is that I try to keep the reins on him again?’

‘Insofar as you can.’

‘And what would be in it for me?’

‘You’d have the inside scoop on what’s happening with the search, if it comes to that. As you know, she could turn up again at any time.’

‘At which point there wouldn’t be a story?’

‘No.’

‘But if there is, you’d want me to run my copy past you first, so you can have some control?’

He didn’t deny it. ‘The Critch is the only one I’m worried about,’ he stated, ‘and not without reason, as history has proved.’

She was regarding him closely, wondering whether now was the right time to ask if he’d be willing to give her a job at the end of it, or was he just going to use her to declaw the Critch, then drop her again? Deciding to let it wait for a while, she said, ‘I can’t tell you how relieved I am to discover I still have your trust. If nothing else, it proves loyalty has its rewards.’