Stranger Child

by Rachel Abbott

  Then Caroline had died and the gang was left with a problem. Whether it was ransom or something else they were after, once there had been a death and police were crawling all over the place, it had to be called off. And they were left with Natasha, who had seen the whole thing. She wasn’t a baby – she would have been able to tell the police exactly what had happened.

  It was hard to tell what David Joseph was feeling about all this. He was definitely pale and drawn and his eyes had a haunted look, as if in his head he was reliving every second of the accident, but Tom hadn’t quite decided what to make of him yet. It probably wasn’t the best time to meet him, given everything that had happened in the last few days, but Tom’s gut was telling him there was something going on beneath the surface – some fear that was beyond the obvious. He could see the attraction of the man – average height, slim build, boyish fair hair and fine-featured good looks – but he had yet to decide whether the charm was more than skin deep.

  Is he good enough for Emma? He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. It was none of his business.

  Tom sat down again and leaned forwards.

  ‘There’s another reason why Becky’s coming back with you, David. She has another job to do – with you. Do you know what a tiger kidnap is?’

  ‘Yeah, they kidnap one person to make another do something for them – something illegal. Is that right?’

  ‘Exactly. You run a safe deposit company – Joseph & Son – yes?’

  David nodded.

  ‘That’s the most likely target, and I want you to talk Becky through how they might be planning to get in and what they might be after.’

  Tom was fairly certain that this wasn’t the first tiger kidnap aimed at Joseph & Son, but he didn’t think it was helpful to share that thought right now.

  ‘It can’t be that,’ David said – in Tom’s mind with more hope than conviction. ‘They can’t get in – at least, they can’t break in. It’s impossible. And even if they did, they wouldn’t know what was in any of the boxes. It has to be something else they’re after.’

  In spite of this seeming like the most obvious target for the gang, David seemed keen to reject it as a possibility.

  ‘We’re not ruling anything out. But briefly, why do you think it’s impossible?’

  ‘It’s the best security system money could buy. It’s all controlled by computer – the doors are all on a time lock. Even I can’t get in.’

  ‘How long have you had the security system in place?’ Tom asked.

  ‘About nine years, but the software’s regularly updated. It’s your brother Jack’s old company that does the work – Jack supervised it himself until he sold up. I promise you, it’s absolutely state of the art. I learned that lesson long ago.’ David raised his eyes as if at his own stupidity.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘When I first took over the business from my dad, I was invited to a computer security seminar. Jack was running it. I hadn’t met him before, but he was genuinely inspiring and very persuasive. I decided we couldn’t afford him. More fool me!’

  ‘Go on,’ Tom prompted.

  ‘A couple of months after I’d been to the seminar, we were hacked. I went into the office one morning, and there was a file sitting in the centre of my computer screen. Not an email – a document file as if I’d saved it there. I opened it, and inside was a list of the first twenty of our customers with their names, addresses, passport numbers – and their security box numbers. At the bottom was a message telling me I’d been hacked; my clients would be informed unless I paid up. The message told me to write down the details of the bank account that I had to make the payment to, because within five minutes of opening the message, it was going to disappear. And it did. There was no point going to the police. I had no time and no evidence once the screen had cleared.’

  Tom felt his throat tighten.

  ‘Can you remember the name of the account?’

  ‘It wasn’t a name. It was a number. Well – that’s not strictly true – there were a couple of letters I think, but mainly numbers.’

  ‘Have you still got the number?’

  David blew out briefly through pursed lips. ‘No. I wanted to burn it. I kept it for a while, in case the opportunity ever came to use it, but in the end I ripped it up. And then went straight to Jack and got myself the best security money could buy.’

  Tom knew he should be asking more, but he couldn’t. And he didn’t really need to.

  44

  Huddled in the corner of the car, her legs hunched up onto the seat and her arms wrapped tightly around her upper body, Emma looked as if she was barely holding herself together.

  Becky’s voice came over the radio.

  ‘All safe,’ she said. ‘David went for the car and drove it to the side of the supermarket as if Emma and Natasha were staying there to keep out of the rain. We jumped in, leaving David to load the shopping into the boot. The watchers would just have seen a flash of Emma’s blue sweater, and I put the hood up so they wouldn’t have had a clue it was me.’

  ‘Thanks, Becky. Keep me up to date. I’m going to get Emma settled, then I’ll give you a call – see where we’re up to. Remind David of the bugs in the kitchen and bedroom, but I think it’s safe to deactivate the one in the sitting room so you have somewhere to talk. According to Emma, they rarely use that room, so nobody will be expecting sound from there. You’re going to have to get David to do a bit of acting when you get there. He needs to say, “Why don’t you go and lie down” or something to you, so nobody will be expecting your voice. Then just move around the bedroom a bit so they can tell you’re there. You okay with that?’

  ‘No problem, boss.’

  Tom ended the call and turned to Emma.

  ‘Everything’s fine, Emma. Becky knows what needs to be done, and then we’ll get you back to your family. I’m going to take you to my house for now.’

  Tom continued to drive in silence until he turned into his drive. He ushered Emma quickly into the house, out of what had turned from torrential rain to a cold drizzle. Emma followed Tom into the kitchen and perched herself on a stool on the far side of the island unit, barely looking at her surroundings.

  ‘Are you cold?’ he asked. As soon as they had left the supermarket, Emma had started to shiver. She didn’t seem to have stopped since. But Tom wasn’t sure if she was shivering with cold, or with anxiety.

  ‘I’m fine,’ Emma looked at Tom. ‘It’s just that whenever I’m cold, or hot, or wet, or hungry, I just think about Ollie. Is he warm enough? Have they fed him?’

  ‘I know. It must be dreadful. But it’s important that you keep functioning too. So what can I get you to drink?’ Tom asked, switching the coffee machine on. He needed a double espresso, given his lack of sleep for the last forty-eight hours.

  ‘Would it be possible to have a gin and tonic, do you think? I really need it.’

  Tom rooted around in a cupboard, certain he had gin, but not too convinced about the tonic. Finally he found a bottle hiding at the back. He heard a subdued sniff and knew that Emma was crying quietly. Her voice when she spoke was uneven, ragged.

  ‘I’ve hated Natasha, you know. With every breath in my body I have wanted to kill her. But the more I learn about her past and the future she’s expecting, the more I worry for her. Is that ridiculous? She took my baby – but now I want to fight for Tasha too. I don’t want her to go back to that life. I won’t let it happen.’

  ‘We won’t let it happen either. We’ll get the people who took her – every last one of them. I just wish we knew a bit more, and that’s why I wanted to talk to you. I want you to try to remember every single detail of your conversations with Natasha and what you heard when she was talking to Rory Slater.’

  Tom handed Emma her drink and looked at her face. She was chewing her bottom lip and wouldn’t quite meet his eyes. He pulled up another stool.

  ‘What?’ he asked. ‘Whatever it is, just tell me.’

  Emma w
aited, as if she was trying to find the right words.

  ‘I can’t see how it’s relevant but, according to Tasha, Caroline shouted a man’s name before she crashed the car. David and I have talked about it, and as far as he’s aware, Caroline only knew one man with this name. I don’t understand it, and neither does David, but the name she shouted was Jack.’

  Tom felt his body jolt. Jack had been so much in his mind recently with the SD card, the Swiss bank, the list of names and dates, not to mention what David had just told him. But somehow that had felt like an intellectual exercise. The fact that Caroline Joseph had called the name Jack as her car went into a spin punched a shot of adrenaline into Tom’s system. It could be some other Jack – but what were the chances of Caroline knowing another Jack, one that her husband had never heard of?

  He barely listened to Emma as she explained how Caroline had known his brother, but he remembered that David Joseph’s name had come up when Leo was talking about Jack’s clients.

  ‘What are you thinking?’ Emma asked.

  He had to focus back on Natasha and Ollie.

  ‘I’m trying to think how accurate a six-year-old’s memory is likely to be. I can’t remember much from when I was six – can you?’

  ‘No, but with all due respect that’s more than thirty years ago. When you’re thirteen, six isn’t so long ago. And it was a traumatic night for her.’

  ‘I think her memory seems pretty accurate when she says the men looked as if they were walking on their heads. We know the car was upside down – that’s how it was when the emergency services got there.’

  ‘When Tasha was telling us the story, she said something else. She said she remembered Caroline saying, “What’s going on?” to whoever was on the phone. She may have got it wrong, of course, but if Caroline sounded scared Natasha might well have remembered accurately.’

  A picture had started to form in Tom’s mind when Natasha had first told him about the men, and this made the picture so much worse. He didn’t like the shape of it at all.

  *

  Tom had settled Emma in the sitting room with her drink so he could make some calls. He wanted to talk to her and to milk from her every drop of information that Natasha had shared, but for now Emma said she was happy with notepad and pencil. She would try to relive each moment and write it all down.

  A call from the incident room had revealed that Rory Slater had been allowed home, there being no proof whatsoever that he had anything to do with the drugs being carried by one of his lads. The police had searched the Slaters’ home and found nothing – not that they expected to. Anything of interest would have been whisked away the moment Rory and Rick had failed to arrive home from the train station. But it had given them a chance to bug the house, and Tom was praying that something would come up – something to give them a clue where Ollie was.

  Becky had also asked DC Nic Havers to go back to Silvia Briggs’s house and get a DNA sample from her. They could rush it through, but it would still be twenty-four hours before they had the result, when they would know for sure if the body in the wood belonged to Isabella aka Izzy Briggs. Twenty-four hours - if they were lucky. If it turned out to be positive, the Slaters would have to be questioned because Izzy had been living with them, and if they hadn’t found Ollie by then it would all get so much more complicated.

  This case was so complex and problematic that Tom wished he had Jack here to draw him a flowchart. His brother was never far from his thoughts at the moment.

  When he returned to the sitting room, Emma was leaning back on the sofa, eyes closed, clutching some paper in her hand, but not paper from the notepad. She opened her eyes and looked at Tom.

  ‘Talking about Jack reminded me. I’ve got something to show you. They’re the two letters I received from Jack – the one when he dumped me, and the other when he was asking for forgiveness just before he died. I brought them for you.’

  Tom stood still. He didn’t know if he wanted to read the letters or not. He had enough on his mind without clouding it with more memories of Jack. Emma put the letters on the coffee table.

  ‘I printed them out. I knew he’d wipe them from my computer as soon as I’d opened them and had time to read them – so it was the first thing I did.’

  ‘You said he ended your relationship by email?’

  ‘Well, technically not email – he hacked into my computer.’

  ‘And did what, exactly?’

  ‘You know Jack couldn’t be bothered with things like email. And if you remember, he hated using the phone with a passion.’

  Tom did indeed remember. Whenever Jack had no option but to use the telephone – mobile or landline – he would hold it in one hand and rub the top of his head with the other, as if totally perplexed. It had always been a source of amusement between Tom and Emma.

  ‘If he wanted to send me a message,’ Emma said, ‘he would write something and then hack into my desktop and leave a folder or a file sitting right in the middle so I couldn’t miss it. He liked me to know that he’d been there and could look at anything on my computer if he wanted to. It amused him.’

  Tom was silent for a moment. ‘Did you tell David any of this?’

  Emma looked puzzled. ‘He knew Jack had dumped me by email – sort of – but if you mean about the hacking into my computer, I don’t think so. Why?’

  ‘Doesn’t matter.’ Tom didn’t want to voice his suspicions out loud, even to Emma.

  He took the letters and glanced at the first one. He realised immediately that this was something he needed to do in private and he was trying to work out how to excuse himself without appearing rude when Emma picked up her notepad and pencil again and mouthed the word ‘Go.’ He didn’t need telling twice.

  Dear Emma

  I am finding this email very difficult to write, but I don’t think I could bear to have this conversation face to face.

  For the last few months, I’ve felt that we have drifted apart. Perhaps it was because I was no longer working full time and had too much time on my hands, but being together 24/7 showed me that we have little to say to each other. It was only when you went away for a brief stay with your family that it struck me how liberated I felt by your absence. And now that I’m away from you in London, it is even more apparent.

  I’m sorry if that sounds cruel. It isn’t meant to be, and we have had some wonderful times together in the past. But our future is not as a couple.

  I must tell you this now, as you will be certain to find out. I have met somebody else. She is a woman who has the same values as me, who enjoys the life of freedom that I now have and isn’t always in search of the next worthy cause to contribute to. She wants fun just as much as I do, and with that in mind we leave tomorrow for Monaco where I plan to buy a home in the sun.

  I hope you can find it in you to forgive me for the hurt that I have inevitably caused, but I think you need a man who is more serious than I am.

  I have transferred ownership of our home into your name, and you can keep it with my blessing. I have also taken my name off our joint bank accounts, and you are welcome to the not inconsiderable sums in each of them. As you know, I have funds in other places and if you find yourself in need of anything financially, please do not hesitate to contact me.

  With affection always

  Jack

  Tom read the letter again. He couldn’t believe Jack would have done this to Emma. It seemed so unlike him. He would have been much more likely to end things by causing a monumental row, so that somehow it wasn’t his fault.

  Tom opened the second folded note, and saw a much shorter message.

  My darling Em

  I’m sorry if the letter I sent all those months ago hurt you. You deserved better. You are, and always have been, wonderful.

  I’ve made many mistakes in my life, and the day of reckoning has finally arrived. The decision I’ve made is going to cause pain to many people, particularly my family, but they have Tom. It’s the only way out of an un
bearable existence. I’m sorry it’s come to this, but the time for me to leave this life has arrived. This time it’s goodbye forever.

  Please forgive me for all my failures, and find your own happiness. If anybody deserves it, you do.

  Jack

  Tom felt his throat constrict. What could have happened to his brother to make him feel that life wasn’t worth living?

  45

  Becky had managed to complete two of the tasks assigned to her, but was struggling with the third. Natasha had locked herself back in her bedroom and wouldn’t speak to her. At least Becky had managed to convince Natasha to leave her phone downstairs, so she knew the girl wasn’t contacting any of those bastards and sharing information. She would deal with her later. First, she needed to feedback to Tom.

  He answered his radio immediately.

  ‘Tom – we’re doing okay here. I’ve done a risk assessment, and it’s not great. There are several possible points of entry downstairs – front door, back door, French windows in the sitting room and dining room, and then there’s a huge kitchen-living room at the back of the house that not only has the back door, but also some glass doors to the garden.’

  ‘Bollocks – that makes it hard to protect them. Can we get a team in?’

  Becky hated giving Tom bad news. She wanted to solve problems, not create them. But she had no ideas that would work.

  ‘I know we checked for surveillance, but this lot seem smart and I’d hate to risk it. There’s no back way in – all the paths lead down the side of the house and out the front. With a bit of time we could do something to bring more of us in, but creating a point of entry to the garden through the thick hedge and bushes would be noisy at night.’

  ‘What’s your recommendation, Becky?’

  ‘I don’t think Natasha is safe, and I think she knows it. If it all goes wrong they’ll blame her – and we know what will happen to her then. If it goes right, they’ll expect her back – they can’t afford to leave her here. If we’re going to protect Natasha, I suggest we have an armed response team standing close by. Very close by.’