by C J Parsons
His eyes moved up-left as he considered his response. For a few long seconds, the only sound in the room was the accelerated rasp of his breathing.
Then Nick Laude straightened in his chair. He lifted his chin and pushed back his shoulders, arms clamping across his skinny chest. Juliet felt something sink inside her. Because she already knew exactly what his next words would be.
‘I want to speak to a lawyer.’
‘I’m so pleased to see you!’
Tara stood in the doorway of the industrial kitchen wearing a big smile and a cowl-necked dress with a flair of corduroy at the hem: the sort of dress that would have made Carrie look ridiculous, but on Tara looked chic, as though she might be French.
Carrie peered past her shoulder, expecting to see a dark-haired, blue-eyed boy hiding shyly behind her. But there was no one – just a cavern of metal surfaces and hanging pots. She felt a jab of worry. Wasn’t this supposed to be a playdate? Had she misunderstood somehow?
‘Come in, come in!’ Tara beckoned Carrie and Sofia towards a large table covered with ingredients: flour, eggs, butter, chocolate chips. The kitchen must also have been used by a cookery school, because they passed a poster advertising a pasta-making workshop taught by a visiting Italian chef.
‘Where’s Peter?’ Sofia asked, eyes hunting for the promised playmate. Carrie looked anxiously at the shifting geography of her daughter’s face, watching confusion dig a trench between her brows.
There were four stools lined up in front of the table. Tara lifted Sofia onto one of them, crouching slightly so that their eyes were level.
‘Sweetie, I’m afraid I have some disappointing news. Peter’s father came and took him to his house.’
‘Why did he do that when Peter was supposed to be playing with me?’
‘There was a . . . a miscommunication. I didn’t realise his dad was coming today until he was already here, so it was too late.’
‘Couldn’t you just tell him Peter had a new friend coming over?’
‘I’m afraid not. It would have made him very upset.’
Sofia’s lower lip was protruding. Uh oh. A pout. Carrie knew from experience that pouts could quickly escalate into tantrums.
Then Tara whispered something in Sofia’s ear. The effect was immediate; the lip retracted and a smile curved up to take its place.
Carrie stared at her daughter’s changed face in amazement, then looked at Tara. ‘What did you just say?’
‘That to make up for Peter not being here, Sofia and I are going to bake magical-anything cupcakes.’
Sofia greeted this statement with a hyperactive nod. She grabbed Tara’s fingers.
‘Can we really put anything we want on top?’
‘Yes.’ Tara looked down at the small hand clutching hers with a smile that Carrie hadn’t seen her use before, as though all of her features were melting. ‘That’s what makes them magical.’
‘Anything in the whole world?’
‘Sure. We could even make . . .’ She sucked her lips all the way in and her eyebrows plunged into a deep V. Then her features reversed; her mouth widened and the V inverted. ‘Spider cupcakes!’
Sofia burst out laughing. ‘Spider cupcakes! Yes, let’s make those! Or knickers cupcakes.’ She clapped her hands. ‘Or both! Knickers on spiders!’
‘Knickers on spiders?’ Tara pressed a finger against her lower lip. ‘Hmm. That might be tricky. Spiders are awfully small and the knickers would have to be a funny shape to fit them, what with all the legs.’ She turned and gave Carrie a wink, so Carrie winked back.
Sofia was squealing with laughter now.
‘I didn’t mean the spiders to be wearing the knickers, silly! The spiders can go on top of the knickers, like a decoration!’
‘Ah, I see. OK, then. We can make cupcakes with spiders and knickers and ice cream with chocolate sauce.’ She leaned closer to Sofia and placed an opened hand, like a wall beside her mouth, angled towards her ear. ‘Just because I really like ice cream and chocolate sauce.’
‘Me too! I love them!’ Sofia clapped again. She was bouncing up and down on the stool now.
‘Of course, there would be room for more ice cream and chocolate sauce if we skipped the spiders and the knickers. But it’s up to you. What do you think?’
‘Let’s just do the ice cream and chocolate sauce! We can save the spiders and knickers for next time.’
‘Deal.’ And they slapped their hands together in a high five.
Carrie was blinking fast as she looked at Tara’s face. She had learned over the years that not all smiles were good. There were bitter ones and sarcastic ones, sad smiles and grimaces. And, of course, the smile Simon had given her that day.
Carrie was pretty sure the melty smile Tara was wearing once again wasn’t any of those. But she still wished she knew what it meant.
Carrie had decided against bringing the car, so she and Sofia walked hand in hand to the nearest bus stop: on Conduit Road, opposite a restaurant renowned for its displays of modern art. A statue of a faceless dog stood on the façade, carved muscles taut.
‘He hasn’t got a nose,’ Sofia observed.
‘Yes. The artist made him like that on purpose.’
‘Why?’
‘I don’t know.’
They stared at it for a moment longer before Sofia lost interest.
‘I like Max the cat,’ she said. ‘It’s too bad he’s not allowed to come inside. But I guess Tara’s right about people not wanting to find any fur inside their food.’
‘He seemed happy enough out back. He probably belongs to one of the shop owners nearby.’
‘He did a big purr when I petted him. He’s cute. I thought he’d be smaller, though. Tara said he was a kitten.’
‘Did she?’ Carrie searched her memory. ‘I remember her mentioning him at Bundy’s, but I’m pretty sure she said he was a cat.’
‘Not in Bundy’s. Before. At the park.’
They reached the bus stop. The electronic board informed her that the number twenty-two would arrive in three minutes.
‘Oh. You mean at Sally’s party.’
A white van with tinted windows was moving slowly towards them down the road. Carrie took Sofia’s arm, drawing her back from the edge of the pavement. She felt her body stiffen as it drew near. Was it her imagination, or was the van pulling sideways, towards them? Her toes clenched inside her shoes as the vehicle drew level . . . and then continued on its way. She released a pent-up breath.
‘Mummy? Mummy!’
‘Sorry. You were telling me about Max. What did Tara say about him?’
‘She said Max was a kitten and that he had white socks made of fur on his feet and he liked to chase his own tail.’ She giggled. ‘But I think he’s too big for a kitten.’
‘He was probably much smaller when you first spoke to her. Cats grow quickly.’
‘I wish I had a cat,’ Sofia said. ‘I’ve only got Penguin Pete and I love him a lot but he’s not the same as a real, live pet.’
An unwelcome thought crept into the back of Carrie’s mind, setting off a prickling sensation. She crouched down in front of Sofia and looked her in the eye.
‘Can you tell me exactly what you told Tara in the park that day, about pets and animals?’
Sofia lifted an elbow and began picking at the edge of a plaster there.
‘I told her cats were my number two favourite after penguins and she told me about Max.’
‘You told her that penguins are your favourite animal?’
‘Yes. She said she liked them too. We both think emperor penguins are the best.’ Sofia began waving both arms over her head. ‘Look, Mummy, the twenty-two is coming!’
Carrie was dimly aware of the bus heaving to a stop beside them.
A coincidence, she told herself firmly. That’s all thi
s is. It doesn’t mean anything.
‘Mummy, come on! The bus is waiting for us to get on!’
She became aware of the driver, staring down at them through the open door. Carrie grabbed Sofia’s hand and hurried aboard.
‘Ow, you’re holding too tight!’
‘Sorry.’ She released her grip and followed her daughter up the steps to the top deck, waiting until they were seated before speaking again.
‘So, were there any other adults at the party that you hadn’t met before? I mean, besides Tara?’
She shrugged. ‘Tara brought the food. It was good, especially the chocolate cake.’
‘Did she have a helper with her?’
Another shrug.
‘Did you talk to any other grown-ups, aside from the school mums?’
‘No. Just Tara.’
‘What else did the two of you talk about?’
‘Nothing.’ Then her face lit. ‘Oh! I told her my favouritest joke about the genie and the wish. And she thought it was really funny and guess what she said?’
‘What?’
Carrie watched her daughter’s smile widen until it hardly seemed there was room for it on her face.
‘She said if a genie gave her one wish, it would be to have a daughter just like me.’
Thirteen
‘It’s hers.’
The words pushed a shot of adrenalin through Juliet’s blood. She looked instinctively at Alistair, whose desk faced hers, his files spilling across the border where the front edges met. When he saw the expression on her face, he raised his eyebrows: What’s going on?
She mouthed: hair is Sofia’s, and he responded with a fist pump.
‘And the partial footprint?’
‘A match for Nick Laude’s boot.’
She experienced that satisfying feeling of facts knitting themselves together to create a net. They now had irrefutable proof that Sofia was in the back of the cart Nick Laude had signed out. That, combined with the missing uniform and the fact that he hadn’t been seen in the park during the hour following the abduction, was going to make it very difficult for him to keep playing the wide-eyed innocent.
‘How about the lock on the gate? Any prints?’
‘Nothing, I’m afraid. It’s been wiped clean.’
‘That’s odd,’ Juliet said, half to herself. ‘Why would someone careless enough to leave behind a footprint and a cart containing DNA evidence go to the trouble of wiping the lock?’ She tilted back in her chair and stared at the false ceiling, with its rows of pock-marked squares. ‘It seems . . . inconsistent.’
‘Maybe he suddenly thought of it on the way out,’ the Crime Scene Manger suggested. ‘Or maybe it was wiped by a more savvy accomplice.’
Juliet snapped upright. So far, there had been nothing in the evidence to suggest that more than one person was involved. But there had been nothing to prove otherwise either. In theory, one or even two or three people could have been waiting in the vehicle on the other side of the gate. Without CCTV, it was impossible to know.
‘Do you think more than one person was involved?’
The CSM laughed. ‘Nice try. But that’s your department. I’m just passing along what the forensic evidence tells me.’
Juliet’s hand stayed on the receiver long after she’d put it down. Her eyes went to the crime board, where Laude’s picture hung alongside Sofia’s, caught in a chain of hand-drawn arrows linking the girl, the hut, the gate.
‘So?’ Alistair was looking across at her, his face a question mark.
‘So . . . it looks like we have Laude. The shoe print fits too.’
‘But? There’s a “but” on your face.’ He chuckled. ‘Maybe I should rephrase that.’
She gave him a sour look.
‘But . . . what if he wasn’t working alone?’
Alistair’s eyebrows rose a notch.
‘The CSIs found evidence of that?’
‘No, it was just thrown out as a possibility, but . . . well, it’s got me thinking. Laude’s not exactly the brightest bulb in the box, is he? Someone could have used him for his connection to the park. Paid him to take the girl. It would give us the one thing that’s missing from our case against him: motive. Namely, money.’
Alistair propped his chin on a fist, eyes narrowing.
‘So you’re thinking, what, paedophile ring? Or straight-up kidnapping, with the girl rescued before the ransom demand could be made?’
Juliet weighed the two theories. They were certainly the most obvious motives for a child abduction involving more than one person. And yet . . .
‘You’re frowning.’
‘Am I?’
‘Yes. We now have more than enough evidence to charge Laude. So if it turns out he did have accomplices, we can use what we’ve got as leverage to make him give them up. You should be smiling, and yet . . .’ His palm circled the air in front of her face. ‘There sits a frown. So I have to ask: what is it about this rich bounty of evidence that displeases you?’
Juliet scrubbed her eyes with her knuckles. He was right, of course. Everything pointed to Laude. It looked as if they had their man . . . or, at least, one of them. So why had her satisfaction been so short-lived?
‘I promise I’ll smile if he confesses.’
‘Not if. When.’
She rolled her eyes. ‘Fine. When.’
‘Meanwhile, you should update the mum. Let her know we’ve got a suspect in custody. That should put a smile on her face.’
As Juliet reached for her phone, she was trying to form a mental image of Sofia’s mother smiling. By the time Carrie Haversen’s mobile began to ring, she had already given up.
Carrie tossed her phone onto the coffee table and flopped back against the sofa cushions, staring at the ceiling. Sofia was playing under the dining table, voice changing pitch as she spoke on behalf of the stuffed animals encircling her (‘Please don’t eat me, Mr Bear! I want to be your friend!’ ‘OK, why don’t you come over for tea?’).
Relief was sweeping through her in a warm rush, washing away the layers of fear and suspicion that had built up inside her like a dark plaque, choking off her peace of mind.
A suspect is in custody.
The once shadowy figure had been given an ordinary, human shape – had been named and fingerprinted and locked up.
One of the park workers. ‘Strong evidence,’ DCI Campbell had said. ‘Just a few loose ends to tie up.’
So now, at last, Carrie was free. Free to lower her guard and move on with her life, to focus on her daughter and her work.
And Josh, a voice somewhere inside her added.
He’d been sneaking into her thoughts more and more over the last few days, her memory flashing out fragments of their night together as she went about her daily routine: brushing her teeth, making lunch for Sofia, working on the design for the hospital wing.
Josh’s hands moving along her body.
His lips on her neck.
His voice, whispering in the dark.
‘May I?’
Carrie’s mobile buzzed against the coffee table. Her heart quickened. Maybe that was him now, calling to ask her out. She’d heard from him twice in the five days since they’d made love, but he hadn’t suggested meeting up again. Perhaps this time . . .
But the thought died when she saw the screen; it was showing an unfamiliar landline number. Not Josh, then. Disappointment sank through her.
‘Carrie? Are you there?’
The sound of Tara’s voice pulled up the memory of their afternoon of cupcakes – and Carrie’s attack of suspicion afterward. Shame throbbed inside her. How had she managed to twist an innocent chat about pets into something sinister? And how could she have thought, even for a moment, that Tara might have been involved in the abduction, when she’d been by Carrie’s side less than ha
lf an hour after Sofia disappeared? It didn’t make sense. She had allowed paranoia to gain the upper hand, shunting aside logic. She must never let that happen again.
‘Hello, Tara.’
‘Hiya. I was just calling on the off chance you’re free tomorrow night? Wondering if you fancied going somewhere for a bite and some drinks?’
The invitation gave Carrie a lift of pleasure, which quickly collapsed under the realisation that she would have to say no. She glanced under the table, where Sofia was pressing a tiger and a rabbit against each other in a forced hug. She couldn’t leave her alone with a babysitter; it was too soon.
‘I’m not able to go out on my own just yet. I need to stay with my daughter.’
‘Oh God, of course you do. Sorry, I didn’t think. I got overexcited when my mother offered to give me a night off childcare. But obviously you wouldn’t want to do anything to unsettle her. Or yourself, for that matter.’
‘Yes, that is the situation.’ Carrie cast around for a solution, not wanting to let this shiny new friendship slip away. ‘You could come over here for dinner. There’s red wine. And prosecco.’
Silence from the other end of the phone. Had that been an odd thing to suggest? Was Tara even now deciding that she’d made a mistake, wasting her time on a freak with no social skills?
But then: ‘Sure, that sounds great. What time?’
‘Sofia goes to bed at seven-thirty, so any time after that.’
‘Perfect. See you then.’
‘Yes. Goodbye, Tara.’
‘Bye-ee.’
Tossing aside her mobile, she jumped up from the sofa, propelled to her feet by a sudden burst of energy.
Her life had turned a corner. The abductor was safely behind bars. She had an affectionate new lover. And maybe, just maybe, a new friend.
‘Hey, Mummy, you’re doing a real smile!’
Sofia had stuck her head out from under the table, where she was crouching on her hands and knees, watching Carrie’s face with a look of delight.
