The Silent Twin (23 page)

P
eople say
you should never underestimate the love a parent has for a child. But I’ve never been on the receiving end, at least not at Abigail’s age. Sometimes I can hear her in the ether, calling out in the dark. My mind becomes tortured with her pleas, and I turn the other way, but her voice still filters through. I hope when all this is over that the cries stop. Such things would drive a sane person mad. A cold chill overcomes me as I imagine spending the rest of my life listening to her pleading to come home. At least Olivia is quiet. Sitting there, pathetically sucking her thumb with those big saucer eyes. Sometimes she looks at me and words pass through her expression.
I know.
But as long as she is silent, she is safe.

I may be able to shrug off her knowing looks, but not the detective. She’s from a special department. She can see into your soul. She’s acting like she wants to help, but she’s not to be trusted. I recognise her kind because I’m an expert in the art of manipulation myself. She’s beginning to make me nervous, and I wish she would go away. Given my plans, that’s not likely to happen any time soon. Sometimes I look back on this diary and I can barely remember writing the words. It’s like there are two sides to me, and that’s a frightening prospect. I know that Abigail’s cries aren’t real, because they’re too far away to carry on the wind. Yet, sometimes I look around, to see if anyone else can hear them too. I’ve been making plans, but I don’t know if I’m strong enough to go through with them. If her screams haunt me while she’s alive, what will become of me after her death? But it’s far too late to back out now. I’ve stowed away the accelerant and prepared for the fire. This time tomorrow, it will all be over.

‘
C
ome in
. Nick told me to expect you,’ Matt said, pulling open the door and allowing Jennifer past.

His Lacoste shirt and belted trousers flattered his youthful build, and if Jennifer didn’t know what he did for a living she would have guessed him to be quite affluent. A barrister perhaps, or a cosmetic surgeon. Accountancy seemed flat in comparison. Sensible. His auburn hair had been gelled to one side in a trendy style, long on the top with a short back and sides.

Jennifer took a seat on a black leather couch. The flat was the polar opposite to Karen’s, although given that Matt, at thirty-five, was ten years older, he had had more time to accumulate his wealth. It was clean and functional, with colourful prints, modern furniture and floor-length curtains. But it was more like a hotel room than a home; something assembled from a catalogue rather than graced with the personal touch.

Pleasantries over, Jennifer set to work and took a witness statement, covering the new information which had come to light. A widescreen television pictured an image of a solider frozen in battle as his
Call of Duty
game was paused. The statement was brief, as Matt had already covered most of it in his interview. They began with his relationship with the family, how long he had lived in Haven, and general background details. It did not take long to get to the crux of the matter. Jennifer’s long slim fingers tapped the statement into the keyboard of her new laptop. The force was finally going electronic, and it was an improvement on the traditional paper forms that sometimes went astray.

‘So you’re telling me that you’ve been in an intimate relationship with Nick for five years before he met Joanna, and reignited your relationship recently, your most recent encounter being the day Abigail went missing?’

Matt raised an eyebrow. ‘We’ve met since then, but that was our most recent sexual encounter, yes.’

Jennifer gave two nods of the head. ‘And on the day in question, you were giving him oral sex when Olivia crept in on you and screamed.’

‘Yes,’ Matt said, a rosy bloom creeping up his cheeks. ‘Although it was more of a gasp than a scream.’

Jennifer did not raise her eyes from the statement. Matt’s and Nick’s affair was mild compared to some of the things she’d heard in her career. ‘How did Nick react?’ she asked.

Matt clasped his fingers over his knee, dividing his attention between Jennifer and the frozen Xbox game. ‘He was horrified. He told me to go, said he’d sort things out with Olivia.’

‘How did you feel?’ Jennifer said.

‘Embarrassed . . .’ He emitted a nervous laugh. ‘I mean, what kid wants to walk in on that?’

‘What happened next?’

‘Nick didn’t handle it very well. He lost the plot. I told him Olivia looked scared, but he got annoyed, told me it was all my fault, that I shouldn’t have come. So I left.’

‘When you say he was frightening Olivia, in what way did you mean? Was he shouting at her? Touching her?’

Matt swivelled the ring on his index finger, a silver wedding ring, just like the one on Nick’s left hand. When he didn’t answer, Jennifer fixed him with a stare.

His voice eventually came, with the cautious tone of someone tackling a very thorny subject.

‘He was bending down to her level, and his hands were on her forearms. He wasn’t hurting her or anything, she was upset and he was trying to get through to her.’

A question rose in Jennifer’s mind. Something that hadn’t occurred to her until now.

‘How did you know it was Olivia?’

Matt frowned, his eyebrows drawing together as he considered the prospect.

‘Abigail’s missing, so it had to be her.’

‘But how did you
know
it was Olivia and not Abigail that found you?’

Matt shrugged. ‘Nick said it was. I can’t tell them apart. Why, you don’t think . . .’

‘No, I’m just asking, nothing more.’

J
ennifer chased
the thought away as she left Matt’s flat. It was an uncomfortable thought, but every avenue had to be explored. The child that had found them in the shed could just as easily have been Abigail. Or they both could have been present. Jennifer had witnessed Nick’s temper over the smallest of things. What if he had silenced his daughter for good, with Olivia as a witness? Her heart plummeted as she considered the possibility.

She re-read Matt’s account as she sat in her car. He was more comfortable with his sexuality than Nick, and Jennifer got the feeling that Matt was Nick’s first male tryst. Matt had been full-on, pressurising Nick to leave his wife, but the more Matt pushed, the further away he seemed to drive Nick, who was haunted by his parents’ strict upbringing and narrow-minded views. It was hardly surprising that Nick had begun suffering with insomnia around the time of his affair. With pressure from every angle, stress had taken charge of his body, filling him with doubt and longing in equal measures. But were these longings enough for Nick to kill for? Had Matt wanted them to get caught? Used every ounce of his sexuality to tempt Nick into sex so near his family home? Or perhaps he was so annoyed by Nick’s reaction that he had abducted Abigail in a fit of fury himself. How did the old saying go?
It’s the quiet ones you have to watch.
Jennifer propped her elbow against the car window. So many possibilities, but so little evidence. Fresh droplets of rain pattered against the foggy windscreen, and her thoughts drifted to Abigail. Lost, afraid, alone. She turned on her wipers, allowing the
swish swish
noise to wash over her. This would not be one of those cases that was left a mystery. She felt it in her bones. Time would provide her with the answers. Abigail had not wandered off or got lost. Someone was lying to her. Someone close to home. And she had just twenty-four hours to find out who.

J
ennifer gritted
her teeth as she listened in to Joanna’s phone call. More interference from DCI Anderson. He was her superior officer, and therefore deserved respect, but right now she couldn’t help but be irritated by his call. She steeled herself as she listened in. It was the first time she had heard Joanna raise her voice.

‘I’ve said no and that’s it. Olivia’s been through enough upset. . . . She hasn’t spoken a word since Abigail’s disappearance . . . What developments? No . . . No, I did
not
know that.’ She shifted the phone to her other ear and threw Jennifer a narrow-eyed stare. ‘No, she didn’t tell me . . . Well, this has come to a surprise to me. I’ll speak to DC Knight, but as I said before, I’m not agreeing to Olivia speaking to anyone else.’

Jennifer groaned. DCI Anderson had told her of Olivia’s whispered conversations. He was clutching at straws. The investigation against Radcliffe had collapsed due to lack of forensic evidence, and DCI Anderson was using whatever he could to get a shock response. It’s all right for him in his comfortable office, Jennifer thought. I’m the one who has to take the flack. Joanna had barely ended the call before she turned on Jennifer.

‘Why didn’t you tell me Olivia’s been speaking to you?’

‘What did he say?’ Jennifer replied, trying to dodge the question.

‘He said that Olivia’s spoken. She said she knows where Abigail is.’

‘That’s not true,’ Jennifer said, aware everyone else had gone quiet. ‘Can we talk in the living room?’

Joanna nodded, and briskly led the way.

Jennifer could not fail to notice that Joanna was shedding her old persona, by trying to take control.

‘Would you like to explain what’s going on? If my daughter’s talking, then I have a right to know about it.’

‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mention it because I didn’t want to upset you. Olivia has uttered a few words but she doesn’t seem to have any recollection of them afterwards.’ What she didn’t say was that her superior officers were the ones who had told her to keep it from the family in the first place. Such an admission may have been slightly gratifying, but would have made the police look unprofessional.

‘Has she communicated with Abigail?’

Jennifer stared out the window, buying some time as she tried to work out what she was going to say. Word might get around, and she couldn’t risk people knowing that Olivia had alluded to Abigail’s whereabouts because it could put her in danger. ‘Nothing really,’ she said, trying to make her voice sound natural. ‘At least, nothing which would lead us to Abigail.’

‘You should have told me. I am her mother, after all.’

‘You’re right. I’m sorry. I didn’t want to put her under any pressure.’

‘Well, your DCI Anderson is. He insinuated I’m a bad mother because I wouldn’t allow her to speak to a psychiatrist. He said people would make their own inferences as to why I wouldn’t agree.’

Footsteps creaked on the stairs in the hall, and Jennifer kept her voice low. ‘He’s under a lot of pressure. We all want to find Abigail. I don’t think it would do any harm for her to speak to someone.’

‘I know I’ve not always been there for her,’ Joanna said, flatly. ‘But I’m trying to make up for that now. You can talk to her, but that’s it. I don’t want any more people in our home.’

‘They’re taking me out soon, maybe even tomorrow,’ Jennifer said, glancing up at the fresh batch of cobwebs clinging to the ceiling. A part of her couldn’t wait to be shot of Blackwater farm. But she had hoped her time there would have ended on a better footing.

Joanna folded her arms in a matter-of-fact manner. ‘Then speak to her today.’

J
ennifer went
straight upstairs to Olivia, and scooted up on the lumpy bed. She pulled a Raggedy Ann doll from under the blanket, and found several other toys tucked away.

‘I haven’t seen one of these in years,’ she said, running her fingers through the doll’s red corded hair. ‘They’re American, you know, you don’t tend to see them over here. Was it a gift? Or did your mum pick it up in one of her charity shops?’

Olivia barely glanced up from her Nintendo DS. Teachers said she had got on well in school, although she was yet to speak. Jennifer was painfully aware this was the first Saturday without Abigail, and couldn’t begin to comprehend what was going on in her head.

The whirr of the dehumidifier hummed from the back of the room as it drew the damp from the walls. Fiona had the Aga on at full blast again today. It was the beating heart of the house, and the heat it pumped made the place more bearable. The whispers that breathed through the walls had died down to manageable levels. There was only one voice she wanted to hear. Jennifer chatted as Olivia played, the game being paused each time she mentioned ponies, and resumed when she spoke of her father.

‘Sweetheart, I know about your daddy’s secret. He told me everything. It’s okay. You don’t need to be scared.’

A
meeep
sound emitted from the DS as the Mario character died, and Olivia pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose before glancing up.

‘I’ve spoken to Matt, your daddy’s friend, too. He said he’s sorry. What you saw . . . well, it was wrong. He’s not going to come around here any more.’

Silence passed between them as Olivia stared with moon eyes, magnified by the lenses of her glasses.

‘I’ve spoken to your mummy too, about how special you are. I’m different too. But you know that. That’s why we’re such good friends. You mustn’t be afraid. We’re all here to help you.’

Olivia slowly nodded in understanding. Her eyes were wary now, like those of a fox about to be lured into a trap with the temptation of food. She wanted help, but was scared of the repercussions when it was accepted. Downstairs people milled about, muffled conversations carried on about expanding the search, and Nick spoke of printing more missing posters, for all the good it would do. Jennifer touched Olivia’s shoulder, grateful the little girl didn’t flinch.

‘Can I speak to Abigail now? I know it hurts, but I really need to speak to her just one more time.’

Olivia snapped the DS game shut before sitting against the pink padded headboard and closing her eyes. It appeared that she had known all along that that’s what Jennifer wanted.

Her breathing became shallow, and despite the heat Jennifer felt the stirrings of a cold fog envelop her. But there was something wrong with this communication. There was no simple transition like before. It was strained, and Olivia’s face relayed the effort involved as her eyes squeezed shut. Finally, she took a gasp, but the voice was weak, barely a whisper.

‘Tell . . . tell Mummy and Daddy I love . . . them. And Olly, tell her . . .’ Silence ensued, and it seemed as if the communication was lost. Jennifer held her breath as Abigail struggled to form the words. ‘Tell her not . . . to . . . be . . . sad.’ The last words were spoken with huge effort, as if granted with a last breath. A trickle of blood lined Jennifer’s gum as she realised she had been biting down hard. She swallowed, willing the little girl to come back to her. ‘Abigail, we’re still looking. We’ve not given up. Please, tell me anything. Can you hear any sounds? Is it far from the house?’

Olivia’s face turned waxen, and her shallow breath made Jennifer’s heart quicken. This was not good. It was as if Olivia had swapped places with her sister, and her weakness was taking its toll on Olivia’s body. Jennifer’s heart lurched as realisation dawned.

‘No,’ Jennifer whispered, clenching her lifeless hand. ‘Come back, Olivia. You come back here right now. Your mummy and daddy, they need you. I know it’s hard but, please, come back.’