‘Doesn’t take a genius, hen. I’m guessing you’ve been along at the tanning salon. Suppose there’s no sign of the wee baby?’
Clare hesitated but the woman waved this away.
‘Don’t mind me. Too nosey for my own good. But we’re all keeping our eyes open.’ She indicated a sheet of paper stuck on one of the windows. It showed the same photo of Abi that Kevin had shown them on his phone. Beneath the photo were the words:
Have You Seen This Baby?
Taken from the West Sands
Phone 999
Clare smiled at the photo. ‘Appreciate it.’
The woman spread her hands. ‘Not much else we can do, eh?’
Clare made to leave, then the woman said, ‘Do you a quick bacon roll if you like?’
She was about to refuse then realised how hungry she was. ‘As long as it’s quick.’
‘Two shakes,’ the woman said. She disappeared indoors and seconds later the aroma of bacon grilling reached Clare’s nose. ‘Ketchup?’ the woman shouted.
‘Please.’
Two minutes later, she was tucking into the best bacon roll she’d tasted in a long time. She fished in her pocket for some coins but the woman waved it away.
‘You find wee Abi. That’ll be payment enough for me, hen.’
Clare tried again to pay but the woman was insistent. ‘You’re very kind,’ she said to the woman. ‘Thank you.’
The woman returned to her pot of leek and potato soup and Clare strolled back to the car, trying not to let bacon grease drip on her shirt. As she passed Bronzalite she thought about how quiet the salon had been, and Sacha’s comment about bringing someone in to do nails. She doubted there was enough custom for Lisa to slip a few quid in her pocket when Sacha wasn’t there. So how were the Mitchells living?
Her phone buzzed. She fished in her pocket for a tissue to wipe her hands then swiped to answer the call. ‘Jim?’
‘Hi Clare. Just had a phone call from an irate farmer.’
‘Not the protest camp?’
‘No. Same direction but a bit further on, nearer Guardbridge. His tractor was ploughing a field when it ran over a motorbike. Looks like it was driven into the field and abandoned. Done a load of damage to the tractor but…’
‘Is it our pizza bike, Jim?’
‘Think so. Sara’s on her way there now to check the registration.’
‘Okay, I’m heading back now.’
* * *
‘Bike found, I hear,’ Tony said as Clare entered the station.
‘Yeah, hopefully. Sara should confirm soon.’
‘Which means they’ve almost certainly transferred the baby to a car and it could be any-bloody-where by now.’
‘She.’
‘Eh?’
‘She. The baby is a girl. Abigail.’
Tony rolled his eyes. ‘Aye, whatever. Any point in checking ANPR footage for cars instead?’
‘Probably not. Needle in a haystack, Tony. There must have been thousands of cars out on Sunday. The only thing we can say for sure is he’s left St Andrews, heading towards Guardbridge.’
Tony took out his phone and called up a map. ‘So Guardbridge is where, from here?’
Clare indicated the road out of St Andrews, past the Old Course Hotel. ‘It’s about five miles west of the town.’
‘And beyond Guardbridge?’
She used two fingers to zoom in on the map. ‘There’s a roundabout, as soon as you enter the village. Only two options: straight ahead takes you to Cupar, going right would take him through Leuchars towards Dundee.’
Tony sat back and pressed his fingers together. ‘Given the pharmacy break-in was in Dundee…’
‘I agree. It seems likely he would head that way, although just because the burglary was in Dundee doesn’t mean our abductor lives there. And,’ she added, ‘there’s every chance the car they transferred to was also stolen. With the resources we have, it would be a waste of manpower.’
He considered this for a moment then said, ‘Okay, fair enough. Any news on the pizza drivers?’
Clare was about to say that Chris was out checking them but she stopped herself in time. The less Tony and Chris had to do with each other, the better. ‘I’ve a couple of lads out checking that now. Told them to be back for the press conference, though.’
‘All right. Come into my office,’ he said, ignoring the fact that it was actually her office he was using. ‘We need to run through your statement before the hacks get here.’
Chapter 14
The press began gathering from eleven o’clock onwards. Clare, having worked in a busy Glasgow station, was used to the scale of it but Sara, still early in her service, was amazed by the number of reporters and photographers queueing for a seat. As well as the newspaper journalists who had been hanging round the station since Sunday, TV and radio reporters had crammed into the room and an array of cameras stood behind the chairs. Lyall flapped round, trying unsuccessfully to place them in the journalistic equivalent of a pecking order.
‘I’d like you and Tony in with the press,’ Clare told Chris. She saw his face darken. ‘Yes, I know,’ she said. ‘I know. But this is too important, Chris. You’ll just have to put your differences behind you – for today at least. Okay?’
Chris exhaled. ‘Yeah, sure. Whatever you say.’
‘Okay. So, I’ll be on one side of the Mitchells with Wendy on the other. Your job is to watch them like a hawk for any sign of abnormal behaviour, unusual reactions – that sort of thing.’
‘It’s called duping delight, you know,’ Chris said.
Clare stared at him. ‘You what?’
‘Duping delight,’ he repeated. ‘It’s where the guilty party enjoys the attention from the situation they’ve created. They’re so pleased with themselves for getting away with whatever they’ve done that they give off small signals. A sudden flash of a smile, or an inappropriate comment. Making light of a serious situation – that sort of thing.’
‘Detective Sergeant West, you never cease to amaze me. Where the hell did you learn that?’
He shrugged. ‘I dunno. Some TV programme.’
‘Okay, then. You and Tony are on duping delight duty.’
‘Joking aside, Clare,’ Chris said, ‘you don’t really think they’ve got anything to do with it, do you?’
‘I’m ruling nothing out,’ Clare said. ‘It’s clear they’re going through hell. But that doesn’t mean it isn’t a hell of their own making.’
The Mitchells arrived with Wendy just after half-past eleven. She took them in a side door so they wouldn’t have to face the clamour of reporters. They seemed composed, if a little in awe of their surroundings. Kevin was hollow-eyed and Clare wondered if he had slept at all since Abi’s abduction.
‘This will help find Abi, won’t it?’ he said to Clare.
She patted his arm. ‘It certainly won’t do any harm, Kevin. Seeing the parents can be enough to prick someone’s conscience.’ She looked at Lisa. Her mouth was set, her lips tight. She seemed dead behind the eyes. ‘Are you okay to do this, Lisa?’
Lisa regarded Clare with contempt. ‘I want my fucking baby back.’
‘Lise…’ Kevin started.
She turned on him. ‘What have you done to find her, eh? Clearing out the garden shed when you should be out there looking!’ Her eyes burned. ‘You should all be out looking for her, instead of this bloody circus.’
Wendy moved towards Lisa but Clare stopped her.
‘Lisa,’ she said, ‘listen carefully to me. You can’t go out there angry. The whole point of putting you and Kevin in front of the cameras is to elicit maximum sympathy from the public. If somebody out there knows or even suspects something, we want them to come forward. We want every mother in the country to put herself in your shoes. It’s the only way. But if you go out there angry – well, folk can be funny. They might see you as hot-headed and maybe not a good mother.’
‘She’s a fantastic mother,’ Kevin said. ‘Don’t you say that!’
<
br /> ‘I know that,’ Clare said. ‘You’re both great parents. Everyone here knows that. But we need everyone else to know it too. It might just help.’
‘What if it doesn’t?’ Lisa’s expression was still sullen.
‘It will,’ Clare assured them with more confidence than she felt. She took a deep breath. ‘Before I talk you through what will happen at the press conference, there’s something I need to tell you.’
The Mitchells looked at her, their faces drawn. Kevin stiffened. ‘What?’ he asked.
‘On Sunday, we believe Abi was put into a large bag on the back of a motorbike and ridden away towards Guardbridge.’
Lisa’s hand went to her mouth. ‘My baby?’ Her voice rose. ‘On a motorbike?’
Clare nodded. ‘We think it was the pizza delivery bike that you saw.’
Kevin’s expression clouded as he processed this. ‘You mean that bike? When I said we should have a pizza? Our Abi – was in there? Zipped up in a stinking pizza bag?’
Clare nodded. ‘I’m sure whoever took her made sure she was safe inside the bag.’
‘You don’t know that!’ Lisa spat. ‘You don’t know how she felt – if she was crying for me – you don’t even know where she is!’
Kevin put a hand on Lisa’s arm but she shrugged it off.
‘The bike was found abandoned in a field, just outside Guardbridge,’ Clare went on. ‘There was no sign of Abi or the rider so we think she must have been transferred to a car.’
Kevin’s head was in his hands now and he sniffed audibly.
Lisa said, ‘How long have you known this?’
‘We only found out a couple of hours ago. A witness came forward this morning,’ Clare said.
‘Who?’ Lisa said. ‘I want to see this witness. Who was it?’
Clare shook her head. ‘He’s not here any longer. It was a young lad. He’s been helping us put together an E-FIT photo of the rider.’
‘Can I see it?’ Lisa asked.
‘As soon as the press conference is over.’
Kevin frowned. ‘You’re not showing it to the press?’
Clare shook her head. ‘Not yet. I want the local cops to have sight of it first. If someone does recognise him we’ll pick him up before the press get wind of it. We don’t want him forewarned and making a run for it.’ She hesitated. ‘I’m sorry to spring the motorbike on you but I’m going to mention it in the press conference and I wanted to let you know first. The more publicity we have, the better.’ She smiled at them. ‘Is that okay?’
The Mitchells exchanged glances, then nodded.
‘Right then,’ Clare said. ‘Let me tell you what to expect when you meet the press.’
* * *
At two minutes to twelve, Clare entered the room to speak to the assembled journalists. Lyall, she noticed, had taken a seat facing the throng, rather than joining their ranks.
He rushed up as she came in. ‘All ready for you, Inspector. Just as you asked.’
‘Thanks, Lyall. I’m going to make a brief announcement before we bring the parents in.’
Clare cleared her throat and the room fell silent. ‘Good morning, ladies and gentlemen,’ she began. ‘Thank you for your attendance today. The format is as follows: I will give a short summary of where we are in the investigation which will be followed by the opportunity to ask questions. As usual, nothing of an operational nature will be revealed. Following around five or ten minutes of questions, Mr Kevin Mitchell, Abigail’s father, will make an appeal. I would ask that you do not shout out or interrupt Kevin. The Mitchells are understandably shattered by the abduction of their daughter…’
‘Rebecca Wilson, Fife News,’ a young blonde reporter said. ‘Will Mrs Mitchell be speaking?’
‘No,’ Clare said. ‘Kevin will speak for both of them. Please don’t address any questions directly to Mrs Mitchell. She’s trying very hard to remain positive.’ Clare scanned the room before going on. ‘There is one further thing. I will again give details of Abi’s medical condition and the medication she needs in my statement. This is life-saving treatment and the more you can do to emphasise that in your reports, the better. We need to make this absolutely clear to her abductors. But – and this is vitally important – I do not want Mr and Mrs Mitchell questioned on the subject. They’ve been through enough already and they do not need reminding of the danger to Abi’s life.’ Clare checked round the room again to assure herself they were taking this in. ‘I hope that’s clear to everyone?’
There were murmurs of assent and she left the room to fetch the Mitchells.
As they prepared to enter, Clare warned Lisa and Kevin to expect some flashes from the cameras, but even she was taken aback by the noise and light that filled the room for the next two minutes. Clare took a seat next to Lisa, who was clutching a baby blanket. Wendy flanked Kevin at the other end of the row.
‘All right?’ Clare whispered to them. They looked at her but made no reply.
She rose to her feet and recapped briefly the events of Sunday morning. She held up a sleepsuit identical to the one Abi had been wearing and a photo of Abi flashed up on a screen to the side. ‘We believe that Abi was removed from the West Sands, hidden in a zipped bag on the back of a motorbike – the kind used to deliver pizzas. We have recovered the bike in a field near Guardbridge and believe Abi was then transferred to a car.’
‘Which pizza company was it?’ a reporter asked.
‘The bike was stolen from Railway Pizzas in Leuchars,’ Clare said, ‘about six miles north-west of St Andrews. So we want to know if anyone saw a pizza bike between late Saturday night and midday on Sunday, particularly if it was somewhere you wouldn’t normally see one.’
Clare went on to speak about the medication Abi needed and the image of Abi on the screen was replaced by a digoxin bottle. Then she looked over the heads towards the cameras behind. ‘I’m appealing now to whoever has Abi. You may have taken her because you desperately want a baby of your own. You might be unhappy now and feeling panicky. I want to assure you that, if you bring Abi into the nearest police station, you will be treated with compassion and understanding. Abduction of a baby is a serious charge, but if you need medical care then we will ensure you receive it. And if that seems too difficult, then please take her to a hospital or doctor’s surgery and leave her where she can be found. We all want Abi safe, but she needs her mum and dad. They miss her dreadfully and she must be missing them. Please bring her back to them.’
The questions came thick and fast. Rebecca Wilson was the first to catch Clare’s eye. ‘What is being done to find Abi?’
Clare gave the stock response about following a number of leads.
‘Charlie McAinsh, North News,’ said an older man in an open-necked shirt. ‘How hopeful are you that Abi will be returned home safely?’
Clare responded by saying they were linking Abi’s abduction with the pharmacy burglary and, as such, they believed Abi was being well cared for. ‘We hope to have her back with Kevin and Lisa very soon.’
The next to speak was a veteran national reporter Clare had met many times while on the Glasgow force. He raised his hand.
‘Sandy?’
‘Have you examined the CCTV from the pharmacy and, if so, has the culprit been identified? Is he or she known to police?’
Clare kept her counsel on that last question. She didn’t want Paul Sinclair to be panicked into fleeing the area. She gave what she hoped was a noncommittal answer then turned to Kevin. ‘Mr Mitchell – Kevin – would now like to say a few words.’
The atmosphere in the room was electric. Cameras flashed again for a few minutes then stopped and the room fell silent.
Kevin cleared his throat. ‘Abi…’ His voice cracked and he stopped. Wendy pushed a glass of water towards him and he took a drink. Then he tried again. ‘Abi is such a lovely little girl. And so good. From the day she was born she was content. She loves to be out in her pram in the garden, watching the washing blow on the line.’ Kevin’s face
lit up at the memory and he stopped again. Wendy gently touched his elbow and he went on. ‘She likes the mobile over her cot and her musical toys, doesn’t she?’ He smiled at Lisa who nodded, her head turned to the side, to avoid the gaze of the cameras. ‘She watches our every move and we love her more than we can say.’ He put his hand in Lisa’s and gripped it tightly. ‘On Sunday, we were having a day out, like any other family.’
Lisa began to cry quietly and Clare passed her a tissue.
Kevin seemed almost in a trance now. He was looking beyond the cameras, his mind back at the West Sands. ‘And, in that second – the split second we took our eyes off Abi’s pram – someone took her. They took her away from us. Away from her mum and dad. But she needs us and we need her too. She’s our baby and we want her back.’
Without warning, Lisa lifted the blanket to her face, holding it against her cheek. ‘I miss holding her so much,’ she blurted out, her voice quavering. She held the blanket to her nose and inhaled deeply. ‘I miss her smell. That wonderful baby smell.’ She breathed in the scent from the blanket again then lowered it from her face, still clutching it in both hands. ‘But every day it’s there a little bit less. And I’m afraid – I’m really, really afraid that if we don’t get Abi back soon, there won’t be any smell left.’
Kevin put his arm around his wife. Lisa buried her head in his neck and began to sob loudly.
Clare rose from her seat and cleared her throat. ‘I think that’s everything now, ladies and gentlemen.’ She glanced over to Wendy who took the cue, leading Kevin and Lisa out of the room. Clare held back for a minute, watching the journalists gathering up their things and rushing outside to phone in their reports. When the last one had left she asked two uniformed officers to help Lyall put the room back to rights. Then she joined Wendy and the Mitchells in her office.
‘You both did so well. Thank you for being so brave.’
Lisa flicked a glance at Clare then looked away again. Kevin said, ‘As long as it helps.’
‘Wendy will take you both home shortly,’ Clare said, ‘but I’d like to show you that E-FIT photo now.’
In Plain Sight Page 12
