by Sally Rigby
‘How they ever find anything in here, beats me,’ she said.
‘I’m sure the staff can lay their hands on everything. It’s nice to see shops like this still in existence.’
They approached the counter, and a man came out from the back.
‘Are you the owner?’ Seb asked.
‘Yes, I’m Paul Bryson.’
‘We’re private investigators, and we’d like to ask you a few questions, if you don’t mind. Do you recognise this car?’ Birdie held out her phone with a recent image of the car with the fake plates.
The man nodded. ‘Yes, I do. I think it belongs to a retired priest and his sister who rent a cottage on a farm just out of the village on the Walgrave Road.’
A retired priest with a stolen car. That was weird. She pulled up a photo of Lacey. ‘And this little girl, do you recognise her?’
Bryson stared at the phone for quite a while. ‘No, I’ve never seen her.’
Did that mean that everything they’d discovered so far about their connection to Lacey was a bunch of coincidences?
‘What can you tell us about the priest and his sister?’ she asked.
‘Very little. We don’t see them much as they seldom shop here and are rarely seen out walking. But you know what village life is like. Most people know who people are, even if they don’t actually speak to them.’
‘Do you know their names?’
‘His name’s Patrick Casey. I know that because of the time a parcel was left here for him.’
‘How did you find out he was a priest?’
‘He mentioned it to my wife when they first moved in. I have no idea where in the country he worked, though.’
‘Is his sister’s name Tessa?’
‘I couldn’t tell you.’
‘How long have they lived in the cottage?’
‘At least two years. Before then one of the farmhands had it, but he died.’
‘Where does the farmer live?’
‘On the farm with his family. His land goes as far as Walgrave and they have a large house there.’
‘How do we get to this cottage from here?’
‘Take a left onto the Walgrave Road, travel two miles out of the village and you’ll see a farm track on the right. Drive up there for about half a mile and you should come across it.’
‘May I ask why you’re looking into these people? They’ve never caused any trouble around here.’
‘Sorry, we’re not allowed to disclose anything in case it jeopardises our investigation. We have no idea whether the Caseys are linked to it. It’s a line of enquiry we’re following.’
She didn’t want the village grapevine working overtime. These people might be nothing to do with Lacey’s case. But if they were, she didn’t want to risk losing the only lead they had because of local gossip.
‘Heard and understood,’ Bryson said, tapping the side of his nose.
They left the shop and jumped back into the car.
‘That was bizarre, don’t you think? We know Tessa was in the car on the day Lacey was abandoned, and that the car was around when she got upset last Saturday. But the guy in the shop didn’t recognise Lacey. It makes no sense. Could we be wrong? Are we missing something? Or …’ She froze. ‘Or was Lacey kept locked up in the cottage and never allowed outside? Oh my God, Seb. Do you think that happened to her?’
Nausea washed over her, and she squeezed her eyes shut, trying to force back images of Lacey being kept a prisoner.
‘Let’s not jump to any conclusions. I think we should check them out.’
‘He’s a retired priest. My aunt has heard Lacey sound like she’s saying prayers in her sleep. I’m not jumping to conclusions. It’s staring us in the face.’
‘Birdie, you’ve got to keep calm and not get emotionally involved, or it will hamper our investigation.’
She knew he was right, but it was hard.
They followed Paul Bryson’s directions and soon arrived at the track, but there was no sign of the cottage in the distance. They turned in and after a couple of minutes’ drive the road ended, and they were in front of an old farmhouse that looked as if it had seen better days. The house was double-fronted and two storeys, but not large. There were barns by the side of it.
She scanned the area. ‘There’s no car here, unless it’s in one of the outbuildings. Or maybe they’re out. Even if the car is here, I can’t do anything about it as I’m not officially on duty and Sarge isn’t aware of what we’re doing. Let’s knock on the door and if no one answers, we’ll have a scout around.’
They headed to the front of the house. Paint on the windows was peeling and Birdie could see around into the back garden, which was planted with vegetables. She could’ve sworn she saw the net curtains at the window twitch. Were they being watched?
Birdie gave a sharp rap on the door, and after a short while was about to knock again when a woman answered. She looked a little older than Birdie and was very thin with fine blonde hair hanging loosely around her face. The remains of a yellow bruise was noticeable under her eye. Was she the woman in the image?
‘Hello?’ she said, her voice soft.
‘Are you Tessa Casey?’
‘Umm … yes.’ She nodded.
‘I’m DC Bird from Market Harborough police, and this is Sebastian Clifford. We’d like to come in to ask you some questions.’
She shouldn’t have played the police card, but she instinctively knew that it would be the only way to get inside. She’d deal with Seb’s wrath later.
The woman’s grip tightened on the wooden door, and her eyes darted from Birdie to Seb.
‘What about?’
‘Is it right that you used to clean for Laura Kingston in Creaton?’
‘Yes,’ the woman whispered.
‘Is your brother here?’ Seb asked.
‘No. He went for a walk.’
Good question from Seb. A black eye. Jumpy and scared. Did he think the woman was being abused by her brother?
‘Please, may we come in?’
‘Okay, if it’s not for long.’
Tessa stepped to the side, and Birdie and Seb walked into the kitchen. The room was bare, other than a square oak table in the middle with three mismatched chairs placed around it. On one wall was a picture of what looked like the Virgin Mary with a baby in her arms.
Seb pulled out a chair and sat down, and Birdie did the same. Tessa leant against the kitchen sink, staring directly at Birdie.
Was she more comfortable with women than men?
‘We’d like to know about the last time you cleaned for Laura Kingston because it was the same day as her car was stolen.’
‘I didn’t take it. I promise I didn’t. Did Mrs Kingston say I did?’ Her fingers clutched the green cardigan she was wearing so tightly that her knuckles were white.
‘Do you know who stole it?’ Birdie asked, deciding not to answer the woman’s question.
She shook her head. ‘No.’
‘So why didn’t you return to work after that shift?’
‘I’d been called away on a family emergency and didn’t know when I’d be back. I was going to leave a note but forgot.’
‘What emergency was this?’ Seb asked.
She bowed her head. ‘I’d rather not say.’
‘The car was stolen by someone who had access to the keys, which were left in their usual place. Can you account for this?’ Birdie asked.
‘I might have forgotten to lock the house when I left. I don’t know.’
Birdie didn’t want to push it because she wasn’t there officially, but surely the woman didn’t expect them to believe her.
‘Can you explain to me why you didn’t contact Laura Kingston to let her know why you’d suddenly left the job, and to return her house key?’
‘I couldn’t because I’d lost my phone and then didn’t have her details. I didn’t know about the car being stolen.’
‘The police tried to find you and couldn’t because when you st
arted working for Mrs Kingston you gave her a fake address. Why?’
‘I was scared. I-in case she came here.’
‘Was that likely?’
‘I didn’t want to risk it because …’ She turned her head and stared out of the window; her mouth open.
Birdie glanced to see what had distracted her. Approaching the house was an older man who looked to be in his late forties, early fifties. Was he the brother? He had a similar build, only he was much taller.
The door opened, and he stared at Birdie and Seb. His eyes narrowed.
‘Who are you?’ His face was set hard.
‘DC Bird from Market Harborough police and this is Sebastian Clifford.’
Seb walked towards the man, towering over him.
‘What do you want?’ the man asked, taking a step backwards.
‘Are you Patrick Casey?’
‘Yes.’ He turned to his sister. ‘Are you okay?’
She nodded.
Birdie pulled out her phone and called up the image of the woman who got out of the car on the day Lacey was abandoned. She held it out for Tessa to view.
‘Is this you?’
‘Let me see,’ Patrick said, hurrying over. ‘No, that’s not my sister. Where was this taken?’
‘This is CCTV footage from a Saturday morning twelve months ago. The person in this image was seen coming out of a car parked in High Street. This car had been stolen the day before from the house where Tessa used to clean, in Creaton.’
‘I told you, I didn’t take the car.’
‘Mrs Kingston identified you in this image. She particularly recognised the blue bag that you always carried.’
‘It’s not me. And that’s not my bag. She’s wrong.’
‘Why are you looking into this now?’ Patrick asked.
‘We’re investigating the abandonment of a young child on the same morning as this footage. We believe the car is connected to it. Do you recognise this girl?’
Birdie pulled up the photo of Lacey and showed it to him.
‘No,’ he said, giving it a cursory glance.
She then showed it to Tessa. ‘Do you?’
The woman shook her head even before taking a proper look. ‘No.’
‘Do you remember the story of when this little girl disappeared? It was in all the media.’
‘We don’t have a television and I don’t read the papers,’ Patrick Casey said.
Birdie pulled out her notebook from her jacket pocket. ‘Before we go, I’d like to take down a few details. You are Tessa and Patrick Casey, and you’re brother and sister?’
‘Half-brother and sister. We had the same father. I don’t see why this is relevant,’ Patrick said.
‘There’s a big age difference between you.’
‘Twenty-five years. But so what?’
‘Do you have a car?’ Birdie asked.
‘No.’
‘With being so isolated, how do you get around?’
‘Public transport. We don’t go out often. We prefer to stay here.’
‘According to our sources, you’ve been seen driving a silver Volkswagen Golf, the same as the one stolen from Mrs Kingston, only with fake plates on it.’
‘Your sources are wrong. I know nothing about this.’ Patrick said.
She didn’t want to push it until they had more to go on.
‘We were also informed that you used to be a priest. Is that correct?’
‘Yes. I took early retirement eight years ago.’
‘Why did you retire early?’ Seb asked.
‘Personal reasons. That’s it. We’re not prepared to answer further questions unless you arrest us and we have a lawyer present. Please leave.’
Chapter 24
Patrick watched their visitors leave the farm and drive down the track. When they were out of sight, he turned to his sister, exasperation coursing through him. Everything could come crashing down if they weren’t careful. They’d lasted this long without their history being known, and he wasn’t prepared to let anything alter that.
‘What were you doing speaking to the police? You know our situation.’
‘I couldn’t refuse. They came to ask me about Mrs Kingston’s car because I cleaned for her. I don’t know how they found out where we lived. They asked why I left the job and I said it was a family emergency. That wasn’t a lie. I didn’t tell them what it was.’
‘We’ll have to get rid of the car. At least they didn’t ask to search the barn, so they don’t know it’s there.’
‘Are you going to sell it?’
‘I know someone at the pub who might take it off my hands. I’ll have to risk driving it until then. I can’t be without transport. It’s bloody annoying.’ He thumped the table in frustration, and his sister tensed.
‘Can you buy a different number plate for it from the DIY shop?’
‘Yes, I will. But what I want to know is why were they asking about Emily? You told me she ran away, so how can this be related to you in the car?’
None of this was stacking up.
‘She did, and I couldn’t do anything to stop her. I looked for ages, but she’d totally disappeared. You already know that.’
‘Yet, according to them, she was found in the town centre and the Golf was connected to it. I’m assuming that meant she was seen running from the car. What aren’t you telling me, Tessa?’
‘Nothing. I promise. Emily didn’t run away from the car when it was in High Street. She’d already gone by then. When we went into Market Harborough, I deliberately parked in a side road because there weren’t any cameras. It was from there that Emily disappeared, before I could do anything about it.’ She hung her head.
Did his sister miss the child as much as he did?
It couldn’t be possible.
‘If that was the case, why did you then park on the high street where you could be seen on camera? Either you’re keeping something from me, or I’m losing the plot. And’s not what’s going on here.’
‘I knew you’d be mad at me for everything I’d done. All I could think of was finding Emily and going back home. I drove around the block several times, hoping to see her, but it was like she’d vanished into thin air. In the end, I parked and went over to the nearest café. I didn’t know what to do. I’m sorry. I wanted to call the police but couldn’t risk them coming here and finding out the truth about our lives. I had no choice.’
He got it. He did. But then losing Emily had almost destroyed him. She’d meant everything to him. He’d brought her into the world. The day he’d delivered the child was permanently etched on his mind. It gave them an unbreakable bond. At least her birth hadn’t been registered so there was nothing linking her to them.
He rested his head in his hand. He’d thought he was over this, but clearly, he wasn’t. The whole thing was one unholy mess.
‘I still don’t understand why you had to take the car. None of this would have happened if it wasn’t for that.’ He locked eyes with his sister.
What wasn’t she telling him?
He’d get it out of her, eventually. However long it took. He’d spent his life protecting Tessa, and then the child. Everything he’d done was for them.
‘What happened hasn’t changed since I told you last year. I missed the bus and couldn’t get back home for hours. You know how few buses there are on that route. You’d gone away and Emily was on her own. I didn’t mind leaving her for a morning, but any longer and she might have harmed herself.’
‘What would she have done? The child always behaved herself when left alone.’
‘Because she knew what would happen if she didn’t.’
‘So you could’ve left her for longer.’
‘You’re confusing me. I didn’t want her to be on her own for too long. Mrs Kingston had gone away for the weekend, so I borrowed the car. I wasn’t going to keep it. I’d planned to take it back the next day but when Emily ran away, and I couldn’t find her, I was too upset so I came home.’
&nb
sp; ‘Let me get this straight. You’d planned to take Emily out to Market Harborough on Saturday morning and after that return the car to Creaton?’
Why hadn’t she told him all this a year ago?
It was his fault. He should’ve asked, but he’d been so distraught at Emily’s disappearance, he wasn’t thinking straight.
‘Yes.’ She gave a vigorous nod.
‘And then what? How were you going to get home?’
‘We were going to catch the one o’clock bus from along the Brixworth Road.’
‘Okay, I understand now. But what I can’t get my head around is why she ran away when she’d done nothing like that before.’
‘I don’t know. Why do you keep asking me? It just happened. One minute she was sitting in the back of the car and the next she’d gone.’
‘What were you doing when this happened?’
‘I closed my eyes for a moment and must have drifted off to sleep.’
He frowned. This was the first time she’d mentioned this, too.
‘You went to sleep? Why didn’t you tell me this before?’
She screwed up her face. ‘I don’t know. I don’t know. Maybe it’s good for her being somewhere else so she can go to school and have a normal life.’
Had she done it on purpose? Was it a ploy to get the child away from him?
‘You were quite capable of teaching her yourself and so was I.’
‘Do you think we should go to the police?’
‘Don’t be stupid. We’ve got the stolen car and that will get us in trouble. It’s now twelve months later, and we’ve moved on. Emily’s no longer part of our family.’
‘I wish I hadn’t taken her to Market Harborough. I thought it would make a pleasant change for her because she was always stuck at home. It wouldn’t have happened if you’d been here instead of going away.’ She scowled at him.
He raised his hand, and she flinched. ‘That’s no excuse for what you did. You’re lucky no one saw you take the car, and they weren’t able to trace it here.’
‘Except they have now.’
