Missing (42 page)

‘But you saw her, when she came back to school?’

She nodded.

‘What happened?’

‘Nothing, I mean like she came back, and then you rang to say her mum had been in touch with the police … I didn’t mean to upset her. It was like a really dumb thing to say, I know that now—’

‘What did you say?’ he broke in, his pulses starting to quicken.

Her eyes stayed on her tightly bunched hands. ‘Only that I thought her mum was mean for not calling her …’ Her head came up. ‘I didn’t expect her to go off on one,’ she cried defensively. ‘She’s always saying how her mum never thinks about anyone but herself, or her brother that went, well, you know …’ She stopped again, apparently afraid she was stumbling onto forbidden ground.

‘What happened after she lost her temper?’ he prompted.

She shrugged. ‘She said she thought I was her friend, but now she knew I wasn’t she was going to ask to be moved from our room. But that’s not true!’ she protested. ‘I am her friend. I really like her, and I always stick up for her when the others get on her case about you and being a daddy’s girl and all that.’

Having had no idea Kelsey was being teased or
taunted,
Miles put it aside for the moment, saying, ‘What did she take with her?’

‘Not much, actually. A lot of her stuff is still here.’

‘Where did she go?’

‘I don’t
know
. She just went, and like, none of us know where she is now.’

‘Is she texting or calling you?’

She nodded.

‘What does she say?’

‘Just that she’s sorry she shouted at me, and she hopes I’m still her friend.’

‘You must have asked her where she is.’

She shook her head. ‘I mean, yes, I have, but she won’t tell me.’

Not at all certain she was being truthful, he said, ‘Can you suggest somewhere she might be?’

She shrugged. ‘Not really. I mean, I thought she’d gone home, to you, but then … Well, she’s all upset about, you know …’ Her eyes flicked to him anxiously.

‘Vivienne?’ he said for her.

She nodded. ‘Like she’s always been … Well, you know, she thinks you don’t want her any more, and I can understand why that’s hard for her, because when she first came here, she used to tell everyone about how you know all these important people … She was dead proud of you. It was why everyone started calling you the ledge – that’s legend – and they called her daddy’s girl, because every time we were talking about boys all she used to talk about was you.’

Feeling the painful conflict of Kelsey’s hero-worship and unhappiness, he said, ‘If you really don’t know where she is, will you help me to find her?’

Her eyes started to dart about the floor. ‘Well, uh, I
mean
yes,’ she said, and her manner as well as her tone left him in little doubt that she already knew.

‘OK. If you speak to her before I do,’ he said carefully, ‘will you tell her how worried I am?’

She nodded. ‘I think she knows that,’ she confessed. ‘I mean, she knew you would be.’

Understanding that was exactly what Kelsey wanted, he said, ‘When did you last speak to her?’

She hesitated. ‘Um, I think it was this morning.’

‘Before or after you and I spoke on the phone?’

She took a breath. ‘Before, I think. Yes, it was before.’

Certain she was lying, and that she’d already told Kelsey her absence was starting to cause a fuss, he said, ‘I’ll give you my mobile number. Please call me the minute you hear from her again, or have any idea where she is.’

Taking the piece of paper he handed her, she read it and said, ‘Can I go now?’

‘Of course,’ and resisting the urge to shake the truth out of her, he went to open the door. ‘You’ve been very helpful,’ he told her as she passed into the adjoining office. ‘Thank you. I hope you won’t mind telling the police everything you’ve told me.’

She visibly paled. ‘Have you reported it to them already?’ she asked.

‘No, but I’ll have to. Kelsey’s only fourteen.’

Her eyes flitted over to the headmistress, who was clearly listening, then putting her head down again she scuttled across the office and out into the corridor.

‘I’m sure she knows where Kelsey is,’ Miles told the head.

Mrs Ferndale pursed her lips. ‘Girls of that age,’ she said tersely. ‘They think themselves exceedingly clever
at
times, when they’re anything but. I’ll talk to her again, and contact you as soon as I have anything to report.’

‘Kelsey, it’s me,’ Martha whispered into her mobile. ‘Your dad’s just been to the school. He’s really, really worried. You have to tell him where you are, or I’m going to be in big trouble.’

‘No, I’m not doing that,’ Kelsey protested. ‘And don’t you either.’

‘He says he’s going to contact the police. If he does, I’ll have to tell them …’

‘He won’t!’

‘How do you know?’

‘Because I’ll tell him not to.’

‘Like that’s going to stop him.’

‘It will—’

‘Oh my God, I have to go,’ Martha said quickly. ‘Someone’s coming. I’ll call you back as soon as I can.’

Miles was speeding along the dual carriageway towards Exeter when his mobile started to ring. It didn’t surprise him to see it was Kelsey, though it had taken her a little longer to call than he’d expected.

‘I don’t know what kind of game you think you’re playing,’ he said sternly, ‘but I want you to come home right now.’

‘No way!’ she cried angrily. ‘If Mum can go off saying she doesn’t want to be found, then I can too. See how she likes it.’

Stifling his exasperation, he said, ‘Kelsey, the only way she’s going to know is if I contact the police and it gets in the papers. Is that what you want?’

Silence.

‘Is that what you want?’ he repeated.

‘Maybe,’ she replied sulkily.

‘I don’t think so, because I don’t think you’ve thought this through. Now where the hell are you?’

‘I’m not telling you, but I’m perfectly safe so you don’t have to worry.’

‘You’re being absurd. Of course I’m worried. You’re fourteen years old …’

‘I can take care of myself.’

‘By running away from school? A very responsible action. And from what Martha tells me you’ve been having problems there that you’ve never mentioned to me, so we need to talk.’

‘Forget it. I’m staying right here until you make
that woman
go away.’

Biting down on his anger, he said, ‘She isn’t at the house, and I won’t be held to blackmail like this. You’re being selfish and immature—’

‘Oh, like and you aren’t? You’re the one who doesn’t have time for anyone else now you—’

‘Kelsey, I’m not getting into an argument with you over something you’re making up. Of course I have time for you. I always have, and always will, but I won’t tolerate this kind of manipulation.’

‘Well that’s just tough, isn’t it, because I’m not coming back until she’s gone, and that’s that.’

Having to accept they were getting nowhere like this, he forced himself to sound conciliatory, and said, ‘She’s going back to London later today. Will you come home then?’

Silence.

‘Are you there?’

‘Yeah, I’m here.’

‘Will you please answer my question.’

‘I might come. Then again, I might not.’

Barely suppressing his frustration, he said, ‘Where are you sleeping at night?’

‘In a bed.’

‘Where?’

‘None of your business.’

‘Do I need to remind you of your age again?’

‘I’m safe, all
right
!’ she shouted. ‘No one’s going to do anything, because no one knows I’m here.’

‘Where?’

‘In my— Oh, very clever. I’m going now. Goodbye.’

Hearing the line go dead, he turned off his own phone and pressed down harder on the accelerator. In my what? Friend’s house? Dormitory? Could she still be at the school, hiding somewhere? It was certainly possible, so he called the headmistress to ask her to mount a thorough search.

‘If she’s not there, then my guess is she’s at a friend’s house,’ he said when finally he spoke to Vivienne.

‘But wouldn’t their parents wonder why she isn’t at school?’

‘Not if they’re away and the house is empty. Anyway, it’s the best I can come up with right now. I don’t know whether to contact the police or not. Maybe I’ll try talking to her again first. Whatever, I’m afraid this means I’ll have to stay in Devon for the weekend.’

‘Of course,’ she said without hesitation. ‘Will we see you before we go?’

‘If there’s no press around I’ll come over to the stables now, if you’re still there?’

‘We are. The Sky TV crew’s here, but no journalists at the end of the road. How far away are you?’

‘About twenty minutes.’

‘OK. I’ll see you when you get here. Have to go now, someone’s trying to get through.’

‘At last, Mrs Avery’s mobile phone records,’ Sadler announced, striding into CID with his chest pumped up. ‘It seems she called a number in Richmond on Thames three times during the week before she disappeared.’

Joy swivelled away from her computer. ‘Who does it belong to?’ she dutifully asked.

‘An estate agent,’ he replied. ‘And unless I’m gravely mistaken, it’s the one on the roundabout at the junction with Kew Road.’

Immediately understanding the significance, Joy reached for the report. ‘That’s it,’ she confirmed, recognising the estate agent’s name. ‘Fifteen years ago it was a garage – the one her little boy was snatched from. But why would she be calling them? Surely no one there would know what had happened during its previous existence.’

‘I could hazard a guess or two,’ he responded, ‘but you have the number, so off you go. I’ll be in my office when you’ve finished.’

Ten minutes later Joy wandered in with a bewildered expression on her face. ‘No one’s ever heard of her,’ she informed him. ‘I even tried the name Anne Cates, but that didn’t trigger anything either.’

‘Mm,’ Sadler grunted. ‘Did you send her photographs over to Richmond CID?’

‘Did it as soon as we got back,’ she assured him.

‘Then maybe a photograph will jog someone’s memory better than the name.’ His eyes came to hers. ‘Unless your theory about her changing her appearance holds good. If it does, the shots we have might not be of much use.’

‘It’s still worth a try,’ she said gravely. ‘I’ll get onto Richmond right away, and see how soon they can send someone over.’

There was no one else in the church of St Anne’s; no vicar, no flower-arranger or stray tourist. Jacqueline was alone in a pew close to the altar, observed by the eyes of Christ on his cross, along with angels, saints, and Mary with the son she’d been allowed to watch growing into a man before he was taken. They gazed down at her from colourful windows and embroidered mantles, impervious, unmoving, silent witnesses to a solitary woman’s need for understanding. They who had known suffering, who had endured pain and cried out in torment, watched her with wide, unblinking eyes, showing no mercy or compassion, no feeling at all.

A couple of days ago, when she was passing at midday, the clock had stopped chiming at six. She’d stared up at it, waiting, even willing it to complete its task, but six was as far as it went. She didn’t really believe in signs, but she’d decided to go into the church anyway, simply to find out if there really was a problem with the clock, or if she was imagining it.

She’d found herself in a bright, welcoming nave with exquisite white Tuscan pillars and lovingly polished pews. No one was around, so she’d walked on down the aisle, encouraged by the quiet, content to be out of the wind. It was the first time in many years that she’d stepped into the house of God. After all the ranting and raging at his cruelty he’d become nothing to her, because he had proved that he had no existence.

She still didn’t believe, but she’d started dropping into the church regularly now, breaking her journeys
between
Richmond and Chiswick. She didn’t pray, or read, she simply sat with her thoughts, letting them drift back over the years, like a breeze over water, moving the surface, but disturbing nothing beneath. Sometimes there were more stirring sensations, and she might even, on occasion, feel as though she could become submerged in sadness, or regret, or even elation, but then her journey would swirl round full circle, to arrive back at the wall she was facing. There was no way over or around it, there was only it, and her, at the journey’s end – and an understanding that had been dawning in her heart, perhaps for a very long time, but much more clearly over the last few days.

Lifting her head, she gazed up into the marble eyes of the Madonna and felt the pull of the years that stretched behind her, taking her back and back, and showing her how she’d allowed herself to fall into the deepest, darkest pit, too afraid to come out, and too terrified to let anyone in. It was as though an army of demons had found its way through the fractures in her heart to the very essence of who she was. She fought to keep herself safe, tried everything to push them away, because if she didn’t she knew Sam would never come back. No one had ever understood how vital it was to keep everything the same, not even Miles. It was wrong to move forward without Sam, because he wouldn’t know where to find them, but Miles had made her, and though for a while she’d been able to cope, in the end everything – life, destiny, hope, even despair – had drawn her back to where she had lost him.

It wasn’t as though she could start again from the time he’d disappeared, but lately the struggle hadn’t seemed so great, nor the fears so intense. She could
think
more clearly now and see what lay ahead, in a way that made her heart beat more steadily and her eyes take on a penetrating glow. It was as though she was reaching out to an answer that might, eventually, lead her from the darkness into light.

She had never thought to find solace this way, yet it seemed to be happening. One of her greatest fears, that Miles might have another son, was now a reality, and instead of becoming overwhelmed by denial and rage, as she’d expected, she was only aware of a growing sense of calm and curiosity – and a feeling of hope that seemed to soothe the turbulence inside her.

She wasn’t afraid any more. She was only eager, she realised, to embrace the son that had come to Miles, to feel the comfort of his small body in her arms and smell the sweet baby scent of him. Surely no one would begrudge her that when her need was so great – not even his mother.