The Long Call

by Ann Cleeves

  In the car on the way into town, he tried to talk to Lucy about Christine Shapland. ‘You see, maid, you’ve got to be careful. She was lucky. They found her just in time. But there are bad people out there. So, you know all the rules, don’t you? You don’t go with anyone, even if it’s someone you know. You stick close to me.’

  But he could tell that Lucy wasn’t really listening. She was nodding away to the music on the car radio. She loved Radio 2.

  It was sunny again, breezy. He’d washed both their sheets before they set off. Maggie had changed sheets every week but he didn’t bother so often. Today, though, had been a perfect drying day, and Lucy had helped him hang them out. They’d struggled to pin them on the line; the wind had caught the wet cotton, twisting it out of shape, almost wrapping around Lucy like a shroud, before they could get the pegs fixed.

  ‘Look at us, Luce. What are we like? Two crocks.’ Because he didn’t like to admit it, but his arthritis was playing up, pulling at his shoulder and causing pain in his hip. His doctor had said they could put him on the list for a new hip, but Maurice had said it wasn’t worth it. Who’d look after Lucy if he was in hospital?

  He parked in one of the little side streets he knew and they walked together towards the town centre, slowly, because Lucy never walked quickly and because he was still getting that stabbing pain.

  They went for coffee first. They’d drive to the big supermarket on the edge of the town for the main shop on their way home. There was a cafe that looked out over the river, where the bus station had been before it had moved, and they sat there, at their favourite table. Maurice wondered if all old people did this: if they saw the shadows of the past wherever they went. Past places and past people. He still thought of Lucy as a teenager. Then he thought he’d rather dream about the past than the future, because he didn’t know what would happen to Lucy when he died. He’d need to sort it out – he’d promised Maggie that he would – but he didn’t know where to start. When all this business at the Woodyard was over, he’d talk to Jonathan and see what he suggested.

  Lucy’s eye was caught by the chocolate cake in the glass cabinet and he bought her a slice. He thought she deserved it, her friend going missing, the man she knew from the bus having been murdered. And anyway, he could deny her nothing. The cafe was getting busy; Lucy smiled and waved at everyone as they came in as if they were old friends.

  Back out in the street, they wandered past the shops. Lucy liked looking at the clothes; Maurice thought she was like one of those birds that were attracted by bright and shiny things. She loved deep colours and wild patterns. Occasionally they bumped into people they knew and stopped to chat.

  They were near the end of the high street on their way back to the car when Maurice saw Pam, the woman who used to work in the butcher’s shop where he’d spent his working life. Again, he found himself slipping back into the past, sharing memories and anecdotes. Pam was elderly now, a widow, but just as fierce and funny. She’d kept in touch with most of his colleagues and brought him up to date; some had died, some were in care homes, some were fighting fit and full of life.

  ‘It’s just a lottery, what happens to us, isn’t it?’ she said. ‘Look at your Maggie. She was always the healthy one, you’d have thought she’d go on forever.’

  That was when he realized that Lucy was missing. He turned, expecting to see her staring into nearby shop windows, thinking that she’d come back to him with a wish list, that wheedling voice. Dad, look at that scarf, those shoes.

  But there was no sign of her. She must have wandered farther away, bored listening to the two friends talking about people she’d never met. Maurice had lost track of time.

  ‘Where’s Lucy?’ It was hard not to blame Pam for distracting him, though he knew he was really the one to blame. ‘Did you see where she went?’

  Pam shook her head. She’d been as much caught up in the conversation as him, as lonely, perhaps, as he was.

  Maurice felt himself breathless with panic. ‘You stay here, in case she comes back. I’ll look for her.’

  ‘All right, my lover.’ Her voice easy and indulgent. ‘You know she’ll be around somewhere. What can happen to her here?’

  In that moment, Maurice thought he hated the woman. She had no idea of the danger Lucy could be in. He moved as fast as he could down the street, pushing open shop doors, shouting to the people inside, not caring that he looked like some sort of madman. Then there she was. He saw the dark hair and the purple cardigan. She was staring into the window of a jeweller’s, lusting no doubt over a silver pendant or a ring with a coloured stone.

  ‘Lucy,’ he said. ‘Maid, you’ve got no idea how scared I’ve been. Don’t ever go off like that again.’

  The woman turned and smiled. She’d heard the anxiety in his voice but not his exact words. It wasn’t Lucy. It was a stranger who looked nothing like her at all.

  * * *

  Later, back in his own home, talking to Matthew Venn, Jonathan’s man, he couldn’t explain what might have happened. ‘She was there with me, and then she just disappeared.’

  ‘You’re sure Lucy was with you when you started talking to Pam?’ Venn was patient. He didn’t ask Maurice to hurry, or make him feel bad about what had happened, but Maurice was aware of time passing, the clock ticking. The longer these questions took, the less time there’d be to find Lucy before it got dark.

  He tried to focus on the question, to be honest. ‘I saw Pam across the road and I hurried over to catch her before she moved on. She hadn’t noticed me, you see, until I went over to her. I didn’t want to miss her.’ He didn’t say that he’d always had a bit of a crush on Pam, even when he was married. Nothing said between them, and certainly nothing done, but it had been there all the same. A connection. ‘Perhaps I left Lucy behind then. I thought she’d followed me, but she might have been looking at the shops and not seen me go.’

  ‘What would she have done, do you think? If she’d turned around and seen you weren’t there?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ Now Maurice was nearly in tears and struggling to hold himself together. ‘I always have been there for her.’

  ‘Does she have a mobile phone?’

  ‘Yes, I got her one a while ago. She’d been mithering for one. She loves it, texts me when she gets on the bus on her way home and uses it to keep in touch with some of her pals. But she didn’t have it with her today. I told her not to bring it. I told her she could give her full attention to her old dad for a change.’

  ‘Can I see it?’

  ‘Of course. It’ll be in her room. I’ll fetch it.’

  Maurice stood at the bedroom door for a moment before going in. He remembered Lucy chatting away to herself before they’d set out and thought he might lose his mind completely if he didn’t get her back soon. He took the phone back to the policeman and handed it over.

  ‘You find her,’ he said. ‘Just you find her.’

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  JEN RAFFERTY HAD BEEN ENJOYING HER time at home with the kids. When they’d been younger she’d found it hard to deal with them after she’d been away at work for a while. She’d thought she should be delighted to see them again, but it had never been like that. She knew a good mother would miss her children and love their company, but each time she returned to the house, the noise and the chaos had come as a shock. It had taken her a while to get used to the fights, the rolling around on the floor, the hyper behaviour and disobedience. She’d known they were playing up, punishing her perhaps for her absence, for taking them away from their father. In the end, the children would calm down, become easier to manage again, but those first few hours of renewed contact had been a nightmare. At work she was in control. At home, it had seemed, she had no control at all.

  Now, it was easier. If she was honest, it was easier because she didn’t see so much of the children. They were more independent. They spent a lot of time in their rooms, sleeping until midday if left to themselves. She wasn’t so overwhelmed by th
eir demands. They were better company too. She could share jokes with them; they found the same things funny. She liked them as people as well as loving them because they were her children.

  Today she prised them out of bed by ten and drove them to Instow for brunch. A treat. The tiny cafe did the best sausage sandwiches in the world, and the very best coffee. Instow was where the two rivers met and across the wide stretch of water she could see Crow Point, where the dead man had been found. The view gave her a new perspective, not just on the landscape but the case. Although she’d determined to give Ella and Ben her full attention, she found her mind wandering back to that first afternoon of the investigation, to the assumptions they’d made about Walden, the complexities that had since emerged.

  It was midday and she’d just arrived home when her phone rang. Matthew.

  ‘You’re not going to tell me you want me there yet, boss.’ She was still relaxed after the meal, after larking around with her kids. ‘I was thinking I’d spend an hour taming my garden before coming in to the station.’

  ‘We’ve got another missing person. Lucy Braddick. She seems to have disappeared into thin air. Barnstaple high street full of shoppers on a Saturday morning.’ There was something close to despair in his voice. ‘Maurice is in bits.’

  ‘Where do you need me?’ Not joking now.

  ‘I’m with Maurice in Lovacott. I thought it was best to bring him back here. Ross has got a recent photo. Can you join him in the town centre? Someone must have seen her. She’d stand out, be noticed. Talk to shopkeepers and passers-by.’

  The kids had already disappeared back to their respective bedrooms. She shouted up that she had to go in to work. They called back but seemed unbothered.

  * * *

  It was lunchtime in the town. Jen ended up walking from home, because she thought it would be quicker and she could look out for Lucy on the way. According to Matthew, Lucy and Maurice had planned to go to the park for ice cream when they’d finished shopping, and if she’d lost sight of her dad, the woman might have continued on her way there alone.

  The breeze blew the river into little waves and the smell of mud and saltmarsh came to her across the grass and the freshly dug flower beds. A fusion of the wild and the tamed. Jen thought that summed up this part of Devon. She stood for a moment, looking into the playground where parents were pushing children on swings, or staring at their phones while their offspring amused themselves. That would have been her, she thought. The bad parent. Today it was mostly dads. Maybe they were single fathers, spending time with their kids. Or just thoughtful men, giving the mothers a couple of hours to catch their breath. There must be some thoughtful men in the world.

  No Lucy.

  Jen walked on faster, taking the path that ran alongside the river. Past the museum and across the road to the high street. She phoned Ross.

  ‘Any news?’

  ‘Nothing. Where are you?’

  ‘Just coming into the high street. I checked out Rock Park on the way, but there was no sign of Lucy there.’ She was walking so fast that she had to catch her breath.

  ‘I’ll meet you.’

  She saw him before he noticed her. He was handing out photos, but as if he was in a rush, not taking time to chat to the shoppers. He’d be a better detective if he learned some patience, but she’d probably been the same when she was younger. Needing action. Desperate for progress.

  ‘I’ve done the high street,’ he said. ‘A few people recognized her. They’d seen her with her dad, but nobody saw her on her own. And there was no sign of a scuffle.’

  ‘So, what do we think happened?’ Jen was remembering a time when Ella was three, just refusing the pushchair. They’d been in a busy shop in Liverpool, and the girl had disappeared, vanished as if she’d been part of a magician’s trick. Jen had been frantic, imagining her daughter snatched and terrified, imagining too her husband’s reaction to the lack of care. Because it would have been her fault and she’d have to pay. A shop assistant had found the girl in one of the changing rooms, wearing a hat she’d taken from one of the shelves. It was so big that it almost hid her face, she was standing on a chair and staring into the mirror. There’d been a rush of relief, and Jen had been crying and laughing at the same. She’d never told Robbie. It would just have been another excuse for his fury.

  Nobody had seen Ella go, although she’d been wearing a bright green dress and she had a mass of red curls. People’s attention had been focussed on shopping or on talking to their friends. Now, Jen thought, an elephant could wander down the middle of Barnstaple high street and not everyone would notice.

  ‘I don’t know,’ Ross said. ‘Maybe it was someone she knew, someone she trusted…’

  ‘Maybe.’ Jen wasn’t so sure. She didn’t know enough about people with Down’s syndrome, but from what Matthew had said, Lucy had been sparky, confident, kind. If someone had asked for her help, maybe she’d have gone with them, even if it had been a stranger. ‘Can you check out CCTV for the street? I’ll give it one more canvass. I might pick up some people you missed.’

  And I’ll give them time to think, not make them hurry or panic.

  He nodded. She saw him disappear into a bakery, and thought he’d be getting his lunch before going back to the police station. That made her think about Lucy; she was a big woman, who clearly liked her food. Walden had befriended her with sweets when they’d started chatting on the bus. She might have become distracted, for example, by the offer of a free sample of cake or biscuit, lured away from the crowds on the main street.

  She walked back up the street, pulling people into conversation about Lucy, describing her clothes, making her real for them. ‘You might have seen her around with her dad. She’s here most Saturdays. She goes to the day centre at the Woodyard. A lovely smile. She’s gone missing and her dad’s in a dreadful state. You can imagine.’

  There was only one sighting of Lucy on her own. The owner of a gift shop, just across the street from where Maurice had been chatting to Pam, had seen her.

  ‘She was out on the pavement, looking in at the window display. It is lovely, though I say so myself. I waved to her and she waved back. It was quiet, nobody else in the shop. It’s that time of year, isn’t it, between Christmas and Easter. There’s always a bit of a lull. No, I didn’t see her talking to anyone.’ The woman was happy to chat. As she’d said, the shop was quiet. She must be bored.

  ‘You didn’t see anyone approaching her? Or looking in at the window at the same time as she was?’

  The woman thought for a moment. ‘She turned away. I think someone tripped on the pavement and she turned around to watch, or to help. I didn’t see her after that.’

  ‘Did you see the person who tripped?’

  ‘Not really. Not in any detail. There was just a bit of a crowd suddenly, someone talked about calling an ambulance. You know how it is, when there’s a bit of a drama. People start staring. The shop door was open so I could hear a little bit of what was said.’

  ‘You didn’t go out to see what was going on?’ Because Jen thought this woman would want to see. If she was as bored as she seemed, she’d surely be curious.

  ‘No, I was just on my way to see if I could help when the phone rang at the back. A customer with an order. By the time I came into the shop again, everything was back to normal. The ambulance never turned up, so I suppose the person who fell hadn’t really hurt themselves.’

  Jen swore in her head, using words that would have made even Ben blush. If the woman had been in a position to see, she would have made a great witness. Jen hoped the incident had been captured on CCTV. At least they’d know where to start looking.

  ‘You must have seen who fell, though? Was it a man or a woman?’

  ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t really see. By the time I’d got to the door, people were standing between me and the person lying on the pavement.’ She paused. ‘I think it was a man. I got a glimpse of jeans and trainers. But really I can’t be sure.’

 
‘Was Lucy still there then?’

  ‘Yes! She was there, on the edge of the group, watching. I saw her just before the phone rang.’

  ‘And when you got back into the shop?’

  ‘I told you. Everyone had gone then. Nobody was there.’

  Back on the pavement, Jen had more questions for the passers-by. ‘Did you see someone fall earlier today? A woman with Down’s syndrome helping them up?’

  But the incident had happened nearly two hours before and these were new shoppers just passing through. Jen questioned the assistants in the shops nearby. They hadn’t seen anyone fall.

  * * *

  In the police station, there was an air of confusion. Vulnerable adults were sometimes targeted by sexual predators, bullies, weak and pathetic people who needed to control. But those victims were usually alone, lonely, known to social services and the police because of their isolation and vulnerability. Christine Shapland and Lucy Braddick were well cared for; they lived with their families. Christine had not been raped or assaulted. There seemed no motive for either kidnap.

  Matthew was back in Barnstaple. He’d left Maurice Braddick in the care of a neighbour. Now, he stood in front of the team, trying to make sense of it all. Jen listened from the back.

  ‘We know that Christine Shapland’s abductor asked her questions, lots of questions,’ Matthew said. ‘But that doesn’t help us much, because she couldn’t understand what he wanted. Or he freaked her out so much that she was too scared to listen properly. Perhaps that tells us he wasn’t used to dealing with people with a learning disability. He was impatient.’ He paused and Jen saw that he was trying to gather his thoughts. ‘We know too that there’s a link between the abductions and the Walden murder because Christine was held in the man’s flat in Braunton. The flat’s sealed off and crawling with CSIs so Lucy won’t be taken there. I hope someone’s got an idea about what might be going on here, because I don’t. And Maurice Braddick, her father, is going through hell.’