* * *
Ashley McCann arrived in high dudgeon and even the sight of Chris didn’t improve her mood.
‘This is harassment,’ she said, scowling, her arms crossed in front of her. ‘You’ve no right. I’m the victim’s sister. You should be treating me properly.’
Clare found she couldn’t summon up the energy to argue. ‘Yep, you’re right, Ashley. We’re all about harassing the family.’
This clearly wasn’t the reaction Ashley had expected. ‘Yeah, well,’ she said, then fell silent. She accepted Chris’s offer of a coffee. ‘Three sugars,’ she told him as Clare showed her into an interview room.
Chris put the cup down in front of her. She looked at it then back at him. ‘Any biscuits?’
‘You think if I had biscuits I’d be handing them out?’ he said, hoping to lighten the mood, but Ashley simply glared back.
‘So, what is it this time?’ she asked.
Clare did not immediately respond. After a fitful night’s sleep and a stressful day, she was tired. Her neck ached and she was fed up of dealing with people like Ashley who, she was convinced, knew more than she was letting on. She pulled over a chair, sat down opposite, and picked up her own coffee.
‘Take your time, why don’t you,’ Ashley said.
Clare put down the coffee and folded her hands in front of her. ‘We’ve found Lisa’s car.’
Ashley was on her feet. ‘When? Was she in it? Where did you find it? Is she okay?’
Clare indicated the chair. ‘Sit down, Ashley. There are questions we have to ask you.’
Ashley glared at them.
Clare waited until she had resumed her seat, then said, ‘Does Lisa have any friends in Dundee?’
‘How the fuck would I know? Is that where her car was?’
‘You would know because you are her sister. You told us how concerned you were for Lisa and Abi. Are you telling me you don’t know who her friends are?’
Ashley shrugged. ‘We don’t have the same friends.’
‘No one comes to mind?’
‘Nope. Where was the car?’
‘Near a park, a mile or so from the centre of town.’ Clare watched Ashley carefully as she said, ‘Baxter Park.’
No reaction.
‘Doesn’t ring a bell?’
‘Nope. Is it still there?’
Clare couldn’t face telling Ashley about the car being stolen and crashed into a tree. She didn’t feel strong enough for one of Ashley’s tantrums. ‘That’s not important just now. We’ll speak to Kevin about the car. But there’s something else you need to tell us.’
‘Like what?’
‘I think you know very well.’
Ashley picked up her coffee cup and slurped a mouthful. She avoided Clare’s eye.
Clare went on. ‘We asked you before about the note Lisa found in Abi’s pram. Right after she was taken.’
Ashley put down her cup and began tracing round the rim with her finger.
‘Now, all three of us here know that Lisa told you about that note. She told you what it said. Abi was taken on Sunday and this is Wednesday. The doctor clearly said forty-eight hours was the best Abi could hope for without medication. We have no idea if she is being properly cared for. She could die if we don’t find her soon.’
Ashley shifted in her seat and knocked the leg of the table, spilling some of the coffee out of her mug. ‘Look what you made me do.’
‘The note, Ashley.’
Chris leaned forward in his seat. ‘Ashley?’ His voice was soft. ‘The more you hold back, the worse it could be for Abi.’
Ashley’s face had grown pink. A single tear escaped from her eye and she rubbed it away with the side of her hand. ‘Don’t you say that.’
‘I have to say it, Ashley,’ Chris went on. ‘You know I do. Now, please. If you care for Lisa and Abi at all, tell us what the note said.’
They watched her carefully. Her eyes flicked from side to side. She swallowed and picked up the coffee cup again, sipping from the edge. Then she laid it down on the table and met their gaze.
‘Okay,’ she said. ‘I’ll tell you.’
* * *
‘Is that all it said?’ Tony asked. ‘Just “you were warned”?’
‘So she says.’
‘And you believe her?’
‘Yes, I think I do.’
‘Warned about what?’
‘She says she doesn’t know. And I believe that too.’
Tony sighed. ‘You’d better find out then, hadn’t you?’
* * *
‘I don’t know what else I expected from Tony,’ Clare said to Chris in the outer office. ‘I don’t believe he’s done a day’s work in his life.’
Sara called them over. ‘I’ve just had Benny on the phone…’
Clare looked at her. ‘Benny?’
‘The car-chase cop. The one who chased after the passenger. He’s at the hospital now.’
‘What’s the news?’
‘The driver’s still unconscious. They’ll reassess him in the morning.’
‘And our passenger?’
‘Staying in overnight. Doctor’s saying he shouldn’t be questioned until tomorrow at the earliest.’
Clare’s lips tightened. ‘We’ll see about that.’ She checked her watch. Six o’clock. She’d been on duty for the best part of ten hours. They all had. She’d spoken to Rob, the DI from Dundee who was coming in at seven. Was there really any more she could do tonight?
She put her head round her office door. Tony had shut down the computer and was in the act of putting papers into his briefcase.
‘Not much more I can do tonight, Tony,’ she said. ‘I’ve handed over to Rob from Dundee until the morning. I’m heading home now, but Rob has my mobile if there are any developments.’
He swept the briefcase off the desk and reached for his jacket, which was hanging on the coat stand in the corner. ‘We’re running out of time on this one, Clare. I think I’ll bring someone else in.’
Clare’s eyes narrowed. ‘Someone else?’
He didn’t look at her. ‘Another DI. There’s a guy in Edinburgh did a child abduction case a few months back. Had the child back home the same day.’
He began moving towards the door.
Clare squared up to him, stepping between him and the door. ‘If you mean the McDonald case, that was a domestic. Mum stopped the dad seeing the boy and the dad grabbed him. It’s hardly the same thing.’
‘Even so, it’s been three days now. It doesn’t look good. I’m starting to get pressure from upstairs.’
Clare’s eyes flashed. ‘Oh, and we can’t have that, can we, Tony? Not when you have the Super’s job in your sights.’
He put his hand on her arm to move her aside and she swiped it away.
‘Don’t you dare touch me,’ she said. ‘I’m not fucking Amy!’
He smirked. ‘No, you’re not, are you?’ He side-stepped her and opened the office door. ‘Night, Inspector. Give my love to your joiner.’
* * *
The rain was spitting when Clare left the office. She stood for a minute, her face turned up to the sky, feeling the cool raindrops on her burning cheeks. Fucking Tony. Fucking sleazy bastard. She unlocked the car and climbed in, throwing her work bag onto the passenger seat. She glanced at her phone. Another two texts from Tom. What the hell was he playing at? It really was about time he got the message. Her finger hovered over the messages. She was tempted to delete them without reading, then decided she would save them for later. After dinner.
She put her phone back in her bag and glanced at the car clock as she drove out of the car park. Quarter to seven. Geoffrey would be there by the time she reached Daisy Cottage.
She drove on, squinting to see clearly in the dark and drizzle. The roads were quiet and she was soon approaching the cottage. As she swung the car into the drive she saw that Geoffrey had let himself in and lit some lamps. She put her key in the door and was met with a delicious aroma. Her spirits
lifted. He was cooking. He greeted her with a kiss and a glass of cool white wine. Clare looked at it with real regret.
‘I can’t,’ she said. ‘I could be called back out.’
‘Not even a sip?’
Clare’s thoughts went back to the time she had been sent home for having a glass of wine before going on duty. She had called in Elaine Carter, the force welfare officer, to back her up and paid a heavy price for Elaine’s support. Months of regular meetings had followed, with Elaine declaring herself personally responsible for what she termed Clare’s wellbeing.
Clare looked again at the wine glass, condensation forming on the outside, and decided to play it safe. ‘Definitely not. But thanks for the thought.’
She moved into the kitchen. ‘It smells amazing. What are you making?’
‘It’s only vegetable chilli. I’ll do some rice and salad to go with it. Fancy a bath first?’
She put her arms round his neck. ‘How did I ever manage without you, Geoffrey Dark?’
He kissed her softly. ‘Go on. I’ll bring you up a cup of tea.’
Upstairs the bathroom was chilly but Geoffrey had switched on the immersion and the room soon filled with steam from the gushing taps. She poured in a generous helping of Jo Malone bath oil, bought from the airport Duty Free shop on the way back from their holiday. A holiday which already seemed like a lifetime ago. Clare stepped into the warm water and let out a satisfied sigh. Minutes later, Geoffrey was at her side, bearing a mug of tea and an almond biscuit. He bent to kiss her and, in that moment, she forgot that Abigail and Lisa Mitchell were missing, that Paul Sinclair was lying in a mortuary fridge and that two young lads who could hold the key to the missing mother and baby were in Ninewells Hospital, one with life-threatening injuries. She luxuriated in the fragrant water and the love of a truly good man.
* * *
She wandered downstairs in an old tracksuit, velvety with age, running her fingers through her wet hair. The sitting room door was ajar and she could see Geoffrey had lit the coal fire. The radio was on in the background and it smelled as if dinner was ready. Clare thought she could get used to this. And then she realised it wasn’t the radio she could hear. They had visitors. She pushed open the sitting room door and saw the dining table was now set for four. And then she saw two figures sitting at the table, chatting as Geoffrey handed out plates. They had their backs to her but, even before she saw their faces, she knew. She recognised the broad shoulders, the faded blue cashmere jersey, starting to go at the elbows.
Tom.
It was Tom.
Tom, her long-standing ex-boyfriend from Glasgow, was sitting at her dining table chatting to her new boyfriend, Geoffrey. Tom, who she had thought was texting her to try to rekindle their relationship. Surely he hadn’t come to plead his case again? Surely not in front of Geoff?
But Tom hadn’t come alone.
They turned, full of smiles, and Tom rose from his chair. ‘Clare,’ he said, and he stepped forward to take her in his arms. She saw Geoffrey standing across the room. He too was smiling. She stiffened as Tom embraced her. It was so familiar. The softness of that jersey she knew so well, his Douro cologne and the feel of him. It was all she could do not to clasp him in her arms and pull him in. Instead, she let her arms hang awkwardly. Then she lifted a hand and clapped him gently on the back, before moving away, out of his embrace.
‘Tom, what a surprise,’ she said, her mouth suddenly dry. ‘Why didn’t you…?’ And then she began to remember.
It must have been July – June, even. Not long after she’d moved into Daisy Cottage. He had sent a card, wishing her well and suggesting they have dinner. And Clare, full of bonhomie with her new house and her new relationship with Geoffrey, had felt generous. Come to dinner, she had said. Come and see the new house. She had been surprised when he’d accepted. She had the vaguest memory of Tom suggesting dates and her agreeing. September had been mentioned, but had they actually set a date? It was starting to come back to her now. How could she have forgotten?
She looked from Geoff to Tom and spread her hands. ‘I’m so sorry. Your texts, Tom. I’m so sorry. I didn’t have time…’
‘Don’t worry, Clare. I remember what it’s like, you know. Geoff and I introduced ourselves and he explained you’re in the middle of that awful baby case.’ His smile faded a little. ‘Any news?’
Clare shook her head. ‘Afraid not.’ Then she became aware that the other person – a woman – was also on her feet. She was slim and fair, with blonde hair curling round her face. Her eyes were baby blue and all at once Clare felt rather old. She managed to smile at the vision of youth, and held out a hand.
‘This is Gillian,’ Tom said.
‘Gilly,’ the woman corrected, all smiles. She grasped Clare’s hand with both of hers. ‘It’s so good to meet you, Clare. Tom talks about you such a lot. I mean’ – she gulped, clearly nervous – ‘I do realise that you and Tom used to be – well, a couple. But Tom says that you’re just the best of friends now and I do think that’s marvellous. So many couples – well, it turns a bit nasty when they break up, doesn’t it? But you two have managed to stay such friends.’ She beamed round at them.
Clare shot a glance at Tom to see if he was finding the encounter as awkward as she was but he seemed blissfully unaware, his eyes fixed firmly on his companion. He’s smitten, Clare thought. He’s absolutely smitten.
Clare bent in to kiss her on the cheek. ‘It’s lovely to meet you too.’ She turned back to Tom. ‘Great to see you, Tom. It’s such a nice surprise.’
She thought Tom looked relieved. He wants my approval. He’s decided to move on and he needs to know I’m okay with it. But was she? She was so used to Tom always being there. Always wanting her, no matter how many times she rejected him. But now, it looked as if she had rejected him for the last time. He’s moved on, and I should be pleased for him. It’s the right thing for all of us. She made an effort and smiled at them again. Behind Tom and Gilly, she could see Geoffrey watching them, faintly amused.
‘If that glass of wine’s still on offer, I’ll have it,’ she said.
He raised an eyebrow but Clare ignored him, holding out her hand for the glass. To hell with work. If she was going to spend the evening with Tom and his new girlfriend, she needed a drink. And a large one at that.
She saw Tom glance at Gilly and give her a smile. He took her hand in his.
‘Actually, I have some news.’ He put his arm round Gilly. ‘Or rather we have some news.’
Oh God. They’re engaged.
‘We’re engaged!’
Gilly held out her hand to show Clare the ring, an exquisitely cut diamond on a platinum band.
Clare fixed her smile and embraced them both. ‘Congratulations. What lovely news.’ She saw the relief on Tom’s face.
She’d pulled it off. Good. She clinked glasses, toasting their future.
* * *
Dinner was interminable. Clare’s face ached from smiling and she could feel a pressure headache building at the back of her neck. Geoffrey kept the conversation going with his light, easy manner while Tom and Gilly exuded joy, chatting about their plans for the future. Clare knew she should be happy for Tom. And for herself. No more texts from him offering to come through and see how she was. He wouldn’t be her problem any longer, not now that he had Gilly. She should be heartily relieved. And Gilly – well, she was perfect for Tom. They made a handsome couple. As they prattled on, Clare hoped she was making the right noises in response. She caught Geoffrey looking at her now and then, and she immediately tried to brighten, but the whole evening was a terrific strain.
‘And this is your house?’ Tom said, surveying the gaps in the floor. ‘Are you having lots of work done?’
‘Central heating,’ Clare said, thinking that, after five years of abstinence, she would very much like a cigarette. ‘Plumber’s having some issues with the boiler.’
‘You need to get rid of him and get someone else,’ Geoffrey said. ‘Al
most three weeks it’s been like this.’
‘I know,’ Clare said, her tone sharper than she meant. ‘I’ve been a bit preoccupied.’
‘My cousin has a heating company,’ Gilly said. ‘I’d be happy to put you in touch with him. He’s busy of course but I’m sure he’d do it if I asked him.’
Christ. She really was perfect. Golden hair, radiant smile and a cousin who could sort the central heating out.
Clare shook her head. ‘It’s fine, really. I’m sure it’ll be working by the end of the week.’
‘I wouldn’t bet on it,’ Geoffrey said, rising from the table and clearing the plates. ‘Coffee?’
Clare escaped to the bathroom after coffee while Geoffrey kept the conversation going. She tiptoed through to the bedroom and took her mobile phone from her bag. Thankfully, no work calls. She saw the messages from Tom and cursed herself for not checking earlier. She might have been able to put him off and have avoided this exhausting evening. Lesson learned. Always check messages from Tom; not that there would be many more, now that he was engaged to the blonde vision downstairs.
When she rejoined them, Gilly was telling Geoffrey about her job at a girls’ school. ‘I’m a PE teacher,’ she said. ‘Dance is my speciality but I can turn my hand to any field sport.’
‘Gilly used to dance with Scottish Ballet,’ Tom said.
Clare smiled. Of course she did. Add it to the list of talents.
‘What’s it like teaching in schools these days?’ Geoffrey asked. ‘Some of the things you read in the news…’
‘Oh, ours isn’t so bad,’ Gilly said, beaming. ‘It’s fee-paying so the kids are mostly okay. I coach the hockey team as well,’ she added.
‘Did you play hockey at school, Clare?’ Geoffrey asked.
She shook her head. ‘Nope. Zero hand-eye coordination. I ran, though.’
In Plain Sight Page 20
