The Silent Twin (12 page)

She pulled out her notebook and scribbled down the stolen words. Hope was cruelly both given and taken away in each sentence. Deep in the ground would suggest a burial. Not a shallow grave but deep. But then, a child’s perception of deep could be different to an adult’s. Where else could she be? There were no bunkers or basements in the area, but her connection with Olivia was strong, so she couldn’t be far from home. In the same breath she had mentioned food, being hungry. All human emotions. The wants and needs of a living child. A flicker of hope reignited in her chest. Surely this was a good sign? Spirits didn’t get hungry, did they?
Unless they didn’t know they were dead.
Jennifer stared hard at the words, as if they were going to rearrange themselves into answers. Abigail had asked why they had forgotten her. But to whom was she referring? She slipped her hand into her jacket pocket and pulled out her mobile phone, calling up Ethan’s number. Even if she wasn’t in the office, having a temporary connection with work grounded her and staved off the risk of emotional involvement, which was growing by the minute.

‘DI Cole speaking,’ he said, even though her name would have flashed up on his phone. She passed on Abigail’s message, and they discussed the possibilities. Ethan came up with the conclusion that it could be Olivia finding comfort in pretending to be her sister, or the voice of a lost soul trapped in the torment of being abandoned in the earth. Either way, they had to keep digging for more.

‘I just don’t know,’ Jennifer said. ‘It feels like wading through treacle with this case. We’re all on tenterhooks waiting for the identity of the body in the river.’

But Ethan was distracted by whoever had just entered his office. Muffled voices followed as a hand masked the receiver, and Jennifer slid her feet back into her shoes, sensing an update was on its way. Ethan returned to her call with a renewed sense of urgency.

‘Your information may be more valuable than you think. We’ve identified the body.’

A
noisy flock
of geese flew over Jennifer’s head, their necks stretched, feathers merging with the pearl grey sky. Keep flying, Jennifer thought, as the perfect ‘V’ formation drove onwards. Haven didn’t accommodate many migrating birds. The menacing stillness acted as a deterrent to both wildlife and strangers who passed through the lands. She watched as the birds disappeared into the clouds, envying their freedom. She should have been relieved; she had delivered good news, but a gnawing dread told her it would not be long before the family’s hopes were dashed for good.

She walked across the car park of Haven Police Station. It was a relief to get away from the farm, even for an hour. Abigail’s disappearance was all-consuming, keeping her awake at night and on the edge of her nerves during the day. The discovery that the body was not hers was a minor victory. But any minute now, the family’s world could come crashing down. Jennifer knew that, despite appearances, Joanna would be physically sick inside, enduring a surreal kind of hell until her daughter was returned.
Unless she was responsible for her disappearance.
The words took her by surprise as they flashed in her mind. Was the child being held captive? Could this be some bizarre publicity stunt? Jennifer stood before the police station with her hands on her hips, feeling like she was about to go into battle. But against whom? Abigail had been taken by someone she knew. She sensed it in her words. There was no fear there, just disbelief at the betrayal. But each attempt at contact was cut painfully short. It came in intermittent bursts, like clouds passing over the sun. Was it due to her weakening mind or her soul? Thanks to her latest report on Olivia’s nervousness around her father, and his denial of their secret, he was deemed a ‘person of interest’ and would be spoken to formally with regard to Abigail’s disappearance. If he refused to attend the police station to speak on tape, consideration would be given to his arrest. It was slim pickings evidentially, but if there was any chance Abigail was alive, then they would do whatever it took to find her. Zoe had used every ounce of her diplomacy to calm Nick down and get him out of the coroner’s office. He had come close to being arrested for a public order offence, due to the amount of swearing taking place. He’d then been given the choice of being interviewed about his daughter’s disappearance, with or without being arrested first. He had agreed to the latter.

Jennifer had not come to the police station just to get away. She had plans for how to spend her time: researching Joanna Duncan. But she was rewarded with very little information. The woman was swiftly becoming an enigma. Rather than being puzzled by her behaviour, Nick’s parents treated her like she was some sort of saint. Yet Joanna’s relationship with her husband was strained. And as for her father . . . Jennifer glanced up at Mr Hines’s picture on the wall. It was a blown-up image taken from a newspaper article. She looked across at Nick’s father, Bob. His picture had also been taken from an article. In fact, it seemed to be the same one. Rifling through the file on the table, she found the printout of the original clipping. It was a piece on Haven’s first photographic club, set up in the late 1990s. So Bob Duncan and Joseph Hines were both members. But their relationship shed little light on Mr Hines’s fractured history with his daughter, and the broken home she had come from. Just what happened between them? He lived on the outskirts of Haven, just a couple of miles from Blackwater farm. Why hadn’t Joanna moved in there, instead of renting his house out to strangers? It wasn’t as if he was going to move back. Jennifer turned back to her computer and clicked on the image of the house portrayed on the letting site. It seemed quite nice by all accounts, a damn sight nicer than Blackwater farm anyway. She had been tempted to pay the new tenants a visit, but what would she say?
Excuse me, I’d like to have a look around in case I can pick up some terrible history from the walls of your home?

‘I’m really grasping at straws now,’ Jennifer mumbled under her breath, shutting down the site. What good was delving into the past, when Abigail was missing right now? Unless . . . She trotted out of the office to see her DI, and he instantly waved her inside. Ethan looked surprised to see her back so soon.

‘I thought you’d be at the farm,’ he said, clasping his hands together.

‘I was. But I was thinking . . . would it be possible to have Joanna’s father’s house searched? I don’t think it’s been checked properly, has it?’

‘Enquiries were made with the occupants, but not a thorough search, no. Abigail’s never been there, and it’s being rented by strangers to the area.’

‘It’s worth a shot, though, isn’t it?’ Jennifer said, casting a glance over the piles of paperwork on his desk. ‘I know you’re busy, but . . .’

‘Finding Abigail takes precedence over all this,’ he said, waving his hand over the paperwork. ‘Leave it with me. I’ll speak to DCI Anderson today, get the necessary authorisation.’

‘Oh,’ Jennifer said, crestfallen. ‘But I’d like to conduct the search myself.’ She glanced through the office door at Will, who had returned from custody with interview notes in hand. She envied his productivity. At least he was dealing with a suspect. If only Abigail could be located safe and well, and she could get on with the business of investigating her abductor.

‘I need you back with the family,’ Ethan replied. ‘Nick’s being interviewed as we speak. I can’t see him making any admissions of guilt, so I’d like you back at the farm before he’s released.’

Jennifer sighed. It was getting late, and her shoulders were heavy with the weight of her concerns. ‘Oh, OK then. But you’ll keep me informed?’

‘You have my word,’ Ethan said, picking up the phone.

Jennifer mumbled her goodbyes. Two days since Abigail went missing. Two long days. And soon it would be three. Even if Abigail were trapped or lost, there was no way she could survive much longer without food and water. How could Jennifer return to the farm, knowing all the odds were against her?

‘
I
can’t believe this
,’ Nick said, the veins throbbing in his neck like blue cables about to snap any minute. ‘You should be out looking for Abigail, not questioning me. Don’t you realise? I’d never hurt my daughter, never!’

‘We’re not saying you have. You’re a sergeant, you know we’re only doing our jobs.’

The police officer across the small square table was a stranger to Nick, but he looked not long off retirement. Greying hair, eyes pouched from lack of sleep, DC Kelly had the look of a man who had spent too long in the job. Nick vaguely recognised the female sergeant. Her name was Baxter or something. Her long brown hair was scraped back into a bun, making her face appear pale and pinched. Nick decided that anyone with that many frown lines was not to be trusted, and he regarded her with casual unease. They had met him at the morgue and offered to take him further afield to prevent any professional embarrassment. But Nick, protesting his innocence, had not wanted to be far from his family in case of further developments. Lack of sleep combined with stress over the discovery of a body had made him bad tempered and snappy, and he barely recognised the man he had become. He rubbed his chest as it tightened, feeling as if he was being squeezed in a vice-like grip.

‘Are you all right?’ DS Baxter asked, tilting her head in concern.

A glut of gas rose in Nick’s stomach and his cheeks puffed as he belched into his clenched fist. The chest pain eased. Indigestion. That’s all it was. Brought on by stress and eating snatches of food at odd hours of the day and night.

‘Excuse me,’ Nick muttered, gathering his composure. ‘Can we just get on with this? Just do what you’ve got to do.’

The windowless interview room was small and poky, smelling of recycled air. Haven CID churned out suspects as if they were on conveyor belts: drug dealers, domestic abusers and small-time shoplifters. Officers queued to use one of the four interview rooms which were more like broom cupboards. Unlike the modernised police station in Lexton, where Nick worked. He wished he was back there, overseeing criminal investigations instead of being the suspect in the case of his missing daughter. They could dress it up all they wanted, a person of interest was one step away from being arrested if the right evidence came to light.

DS Baxter’s voice cut into his thoughts, her voice soft and coaxing. ‘I understand this is an upsetting time, but we’d like to get some ambiguities cleared up. Can you tell me, what were you doing on the day of . . .’

‘I was in the cow barn, clearing it out,’ Nick said, pre-empting her question. What other day could they be talking about, if not the day of Abigail’s disappearance?

A faint smile touched DS Baxter’s lips, but her eyes remained cold. ‘I take it by the tone of your voice this isn’t something you particularly enjoy?’

Nick sighed. ‘Renovating a shitty cow barn isn’t on my list of fun things to do, no.’

‘So whose idea was it to buy the property?’

‘What are you trying to imply?’ Nick said stiffly. ‘I was unhappy about renovations, so I abducted my own child?’

‘I’m not implying anything,’ DS Baxter said. ‘I simply asked you a question.’

‘It was my wife’s idea. One of her many projects.’

Nick folded his arms, which suggested that this was all he was going to say on the subject. He glanced over at DC Kelly. Pen poised over his notebook, he was giving nothing away. But Nick’s emotions had taken control. Exhausted and stressed, he lacked the capacity to keep them in check, and each one emerged on his face, giving his audience a full viewing. He shifted in the hard plastic chair, knowing they would take full advantage.

DS Baxter crossed her legs and clasped her hands on the table. ‘Where were the children on the morning of Abigail’s disappearance?’

‘You know where they were,’ Nick said. ‘We’ve already answered these questions a hundred times over.’

‘I know,’ DS Baxter replied, with a slow sympathetic nod. It took Nick by surprise, and he wondered if she had children of her own. ‘Please. Humour me.’

‘They were meant to be in the house. I’d told Joanna not to let them out because the ground was all churned up from the tractor.’

‘Did you
see
them outside?’

Nick dropped his eyes to the desk, the memories exposed too painful to share. ‘No. The last time I saw them was at breakfast. Look, I don’t see the point behind this interview if you’re going to go over old –’

DS Baxter interrupted with a quick rebuke. ‘Why is Olivia frightened of you, Nick?’

Nick’s head snapped up. ‘Frightened? Who said she was . . .? Ah. Jennifer Knight. She’s behind this, isn’t she?’

DS Baxter locked her gaze on Nick in an intense stare. ‘You know as well as I do that she has an obligation of duty to report her findings.’

Nick opened his mouth to speak but DS Baxter continued. He had seen officers like this before. Her sympathetic mumblings had been a ploy, and when he wouldn’t give her what she wanted, she would rebuke with a vicious attack. He folded his arms, wondering if he should request a solicitor after all.

DC Kelly joined in on the questioning, and Nick had two pairs of stony eyes upon him instead of one. He felt the weight of their stares, and swallowed back the lump in his throat.

‘I don’t think you’re in any position to disapprove,’ DC Kelly said. ‘Olivia is so traumatised that she’s refused to speak. You’ve blocked our offers of a visit by a child psychiatrist, and she was overheard whispering to you that she wouldn’t tell. Would you like to enlighten us as to what this secret is?’

Nick laughed incredulously. The hollow, bitter sound seemed to rebound off the four walls. His resolve to stay strong was crumbling. He wished the ground would swallow him up and take him somewhere dark, away from the pain, the bitterness and the accusations.

‘This is outrageous. Kids say stupid things all the time, it doesn’t have any bearing on Abigail.’

‘I’m not so sure. When DC Knight questioned you on it, you became very defensive.’

DS Baxter joined in, ‘And when she was alone with Olivia, the girl became so frightened of you discovering her talking to the officer that she hid in the wardrobe. Does this seem like normal behaviour to you?’

Nick inhaled a slow soothing breath. He knew how the police worked, and he shouldn’t allow them to get the better of him. He closed his eyes as a wave of tiredness overcame him, and allowed the tension to leave his shoulders.

‘You know if I was at all worried by your questioning, I’d call a solicitor right now.’ Nick opened his eyes, and returned the officer’s gaze. ‘But I’m not. Because as far as Abigail is concerned, I’ve done nothing wrong. So you can say what you like.’

DS Baxter jumped in with a response. ‘I’m not saying you
planned
on harming Abigail. I just think something happened to her, and you were there at the time. It’s a farmyard, full of machinery and old buildings. An inquisitive child playing hide and seek, anything could have happened. Perhaps you knew it would be too much for your wife to bear. So you decided to cover it up, in the hope of sparing her the pain. But Olivia found you, and you warned her not to tell a soul.’

‘Bollocks. Utter bollocks,’ Nick said, the words ending in a yawn. It wasn’t that he didn’t care. He hadn’t slept in days and his body was shutting down. The officer’s voice seemed to be coming from far away, and he rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palms to focus. DS Baxter was still speaking, back to her ‘good cop’ routine. Nick was able to see right through her, and her method of interview did not impress him at all.

‘If something happened, then we can help. Just tell us where she is. She deserves that much.’

Nick licked the dryness from his lips. His throat still felt scratchy from shouting over the last couple of days, and the dry stale air in the poky interview room didn’t help much.

‘You think she’s dead, don’t you? It’s why the search teams don’t call her name any more. Because the dead don’t answer back.’

DS Baxter had the gall to look affronted. ‘I’m merely pointing out . . .’

‘You’re talking utter shite. How dare you tell me what my daughter deserves? I live for my kids, I’d give up my life for them,’ Nick said.

DS Baxter leaned forward as she fired off the last few barrels of accusation. ‘Nick Duncan, did you kill your daughter Abigail?’

‘No.’

‘Do you know where she is?’

‘No.’

‘Have you hidden her, dead or alive?’

‘No.’

‘Do you know who has?’

‘No. Now I’m done answering your questions. If you want to question me any further, I want to exercise my right to a solicitor,’ Nick said.

‘What happened to “I’ve done nothing wrong”?’

‘It got bored and left the interview.’

Nick was thinking of Abigail, of all the time wasted in this interview when he should have been looking for her – that’s if her waterlogged body wasn’t lying in the morgue. He shook off the thought. He couldn’t afford to fall apart right now.

‘You’re hiding something,’ DC Kelly said, having found his voice for the second time.

‘It’s nothing to do with Abigail,’ Nick snapped. ‘Now, I’m done here. I’ve answered your questions, and you can take your Family Liaison Officer out of my home.’

‘Which will result in you getting updates only when necessary. Is that what you want?’

‘Fine. In that case she can stay. But . . .’

‘But what?’ DS Baxter replied. ‘She can stay, but she can’t do her job? It’s all or nothing here. There are to be no repurcussions for DC Knight. We want to find Abigail as much as you do, and if it means asking some unpleasant questions then so be it. I want you to think of Abigail. What she’s doing right now. Is there anything you can tell us that will bring us to her?’

Nick took a deep breath, his eyes swimming with tears as he pictured his daughter’s face.

‘I’m so tired. I thought I could do this, but I can’t.’ He shook his head, wiping away his tears with his fingers. ‘I
was
at the farm that day but . . .’

A knock on the door interrupted their conversation and DS Baxter rose from her chair.

‘This better be good,’ she mumbled tersely under her breath as she left the room.

DC Kelly announced her temporary departure, leaving the tapes running to negate any accusations later.

‘
P
lease
, carry on,’ DC Kelly advised.

But Nick was too caught up in what was happening the other side of the door. ‘There’s been a development, hasn’t there?’ He swallowed back the bitter taste rising in his throat as panic rose in every cell. ‘Oh God, they’ve confirmed it, haven’t they? They’ve found Abigail.’