Lost Girls

by Angela Marsons

‘Okay,’ Kim said. ‘Matt is going to work with you both on how to communicate with them. He'll be negotiating through the two of you.’

  ‘That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard,’ Stephen exploded.

  An exasperated sigh travelled around the room.

  ‘Why is this all on us? What exactly are you doing to get our daughters back?’

  Kim was now weary of his questions. She didn't get this much shit from Woody.

  ‘Mr Hanson, my team and I—’

  ‘I don't want to hear about how hard your team is working. I want to know where you are in the investigation. I want to know when you will concede defeat and go to the press. Will they have to come home in body bags before …?’

  ‘Outside, now,’ Kim snarled.

  She almost felt the rush of air as every head whipped around towards her.

  She stormed past Lucas and threw the door open. Stephen followed closely behind, matching her pace.

  He started speaking before she'd stopped walking. She'd wanted more distance between the house and the sound of her voice but she stopped walking. Here would have to do.

  ‘Detective Inspector, I do not appreciate—’

  ‘I couldn't care less about what you appreciate but don't you ever speak about your daughter or theirs like that again.’

  ‘My thoughts are—’

  ‘Best left in your head. Now, listen to me carefully. I have had enough of you second-guessing my every move on this case. It is distracting and I will not be pushed around like some women, Mr Hanson. Do we understand each other?’

  His look was defiant. ‘No, Inspector, we do not.’

  She stepped closer, into his face. ‘Then let me spell it out for you. I am not your wife and I will not put up with your bullshit. If you do anything else to disrupt this investigation, including hitting your wife, Karen won't be the only one asking you to leave.’ Kim stepped even closer. ‘Only I'll be doing it with handcuffs and a police escort.’ She paused, her face an inch from his. ‘Now, do we understand each other?’

  He stepped back, giving her his answer.

  She had tried to be empathetic to his plight but Stephen’s constant badgering had pushed her one step too far.

  ‘Inspector, you should know that I don't think you're capable of running this investigation.’

  Kim bit her tongue and followed him towards the front door.

  Stephen disappeared back into the lounge. Bryant blocked her entry into the house.

  ‘Guv, a minute,’ he said, closing the door behind him and coming outside.

  ‘Bryant, whatever this is, it can wait.’

  ‘No, it really can’t.’

  ‘What?’ she snapped, eager to get back to the war room.

  ‘You’re losing it, Guv,’ he said, turning to face her.

  ‘Who the hell do you think—’

  ‘Okay, I’ll rephrase. You’re losing it, Kim. Because I’m telling you as a friend. You’re not eating, you’re not sleeping, you’re snapping at everyone and you just brought one of the girls’ fathers outside for a verbal kicking. Talk to me.’

  She glared at him. ‘You do know there is a line and you are seriously close to overstepping it?’

  Bryant shrugged. ‘Yeah, deal with me later but for now will you just bloody well let it out?’

  ‘There’s nothing to let out and you need to back the hell off. If you dare undermine me in front of—’

  ‘Never gonna happen and you know it – but if it helps to take it out on me, do it. I can take it. But you’ve got to release it somehow.’

  ‘There’s nothing—’

  ‘For fuck’s sake, Kim,’ he snarled.

  Kim was stunned. Bryant rarely cursed and hardly ever shouted. And he’d never done either at her.

  ‘I know exactly what you’re doing. You’re taking everyone’s frustration and turning it on yourself. Every negative feeling is your responsibility because those little girls are still out there. You’re trying to shoulder the fears of a dozen people and, as strong as you are, you just can’t do it.’

  Kim felt the familiar rage building. ‘Take your analysis and shove it up your arse. How dare you presume—’

  ‘I’ll dare because no one else will and you need to be told that it’s not your fault.’

  Kim knew this was her opportunity to tell him how she was feeling. And Bryant would find some way to make her feel better. He always did.

  But as well as being her friend, he was a member of her team. And she would not allow any of them to see her fear. Two people were dead and a third was fighting for her life. Charlie and Amy were still out there, frightened and at risk.

  She couldn’t allow herself to feel better.

  Not until she brought them home.

  Seventy-Four

  Elizabeth waited until the bedroom door closed behind them.

  ‘What the hell was all that about?’

  Stephen walked past her without meeting her gaze.

  ‘She just wanted to have a quiet word about—’

  ‘Not that, Stephen. I know what that was about. She took you outside to smack your arse – and quite rightly too. That's not what I'm talking about.’

  He shook his head. ‘Then I have no idea what you mean.’

  Elizabeth sat on the other side of the bed. She was happy to have her back to him.

  ‘Why haven't we made an offer, Stephen?’

  Her heart was hammering in her chest but she would not let this conversation go. She wasn't frightened of a repeat performance with his fist. The real fear came from the realisation that was trying desperately to dawn in the back of her mind.

  ‘We hadn't finalised … we were discussing …’

  ‘Robert and Karen talked and discussed, then took action and tried to save Amy and Charlie. Why haven't we?’

  ‘It was an empty gesture on his part. Robert knew they would not accept—’

  ‘Don't you dare do that, Stephen. Don't you even dare try and denigrate what Robert tried to do so you can feel better about yourself. At least he tried.’

  ‘Jesus, Liz, anyone can send a text message.’

  ‘Then why didn't we?’ she asked, simply.

  Every response knocked a nail into her heart – she knew where they were headed. Elizabeth didn't want to hear the words but she had to.

  ‘How much do we have in the savings account, Stephen?’

  ‘Liz, I don't know. I'd have to go online …’

  ‘Amy has been with kidnappers for three days and you haven't checked our bank account once.’

  She felt his agitation from the other side of the bed.

  ‘There's nothing in there, is there?’

  ‘Don't be ridiculous. Of course—’

  ‘Stop lying, Stephen. I know there's nothing there. What about the house?’

  Stephen said nothing.

  ‘Have you taken out a second mortgage on our home?’

  ‘Liz, let me explain …’

  She stood. She wasn't even angry any more. She felt dead inside.

  ‘So, we're broke. We have no money and you couldn't find the balls to tell me the reason we didn't make an offer was because we couldn't.’

  ‘Liz, sit down and we can—’

  ‘Robert knew, didn't he? He knew that we couldn't play the game to save our daughter's life – which is why he tried to save both.’

  Stephen stood and approached her. His expression was desperate.

  She held up her hands. ‘Don't touch me.’

  ‘We can get through this.’

  Elizabeth smiled sadly as she moved away. At that moment she realised that she no longer loved her husband – but her heart didn't have the capacity to hate him. It was already mourning the loss of her child.

  In all their years she had deferred to him. She had agreed that she could complete her law degree later. She had supported every promotion. She had spent every late night without him.

  She'd even understood when he'd done it the first time. His gambli
ng debts had wiped out their savings. She'd believed him when he'd said it would never happen again.

  All through their marriage Elizabeth had consoled herself that every partnership was a balance sheet. There were assets and debts on both sides but now that she added up her net worth she realised the company had gone bust.

  ‘No, Stephen, you're wrong. I can't ever come back from this. Our marriage is over, regardless of what happens next.’

  He took another step towards her. She held up her hands and met his gaze. She did nothing to hide the repulsion she felt.

  He took a step back.

  ‘Feel free to stay… Amy is still your daughter, but you will sleep on the sofa.’

  His head dropped like a pathetic, abandoned puppy. She felt nothing.

  She held out her right hand. ‘Now, give me the car keys. I'm going to fetch my son.’

  Seventy-Five

  Julia Trueman finished loading the dishwasher. Alan had returned home for dinner, showered, changed and left for his monthly meeting with the regional managers of his estate agency.

  It was now the only time he ever left them in the evening.

  Their dinner had been a subdued affair. Emily had been distracted and quiet. Every question asked had been answered with barely a full syllable.

  Alan had glanced at his wife a few times and she had shrugged in response. She had chosen not to share the visit from the police with her husband. It was over. The kidnap was in the past and she wanted it firmly left there.

  In spite of her ordeal, Emily was not a sullen child. She remained reasonably well balanced, not prone to sudden mood changes, so Julia guessed she'd been unnerved by the visit from the police. She knew Emily still missed her old friend. The photo album the two of them had built was never far from her bed. And she had little opportunity to make new friends.

  Julia knew the social aspect of her daughter's life had been stunted by herself and Alan. Emily didn't attend school and was not allowed to join any social networking sites. People could be traced through those sites. Julia knew. She had checked.

  Although Julia had heard what the female officer had said, she chose to completely ignore it.

  When Alan left the house Julia switched off the television and went to check the alarm in the kitchen. All four sector lights winked at her. The quad screen showed no activity. She sighed with relief and headed to the snug.

  The small room was her favourite in the whole house. Not least because she could keep watch on the front door.

  She glanced along the bookshelves and settled on a Val McDermid novel. She paused before she sat, wondering if she should check on Emily one more time.

  The child had claimed a headache and retired for an early night.

  Julia had already checked her once since Alan had left.

  The room had been dark but the low hum of Emily's iPod had confirmed that she had fallen asleep to the two thousand songs on the device.

  Julia never bothered to remove it. Although the songs wouldn't run out, the charge on the iPod would.

  No, she resolved. She had to give her daughter some space.

  In the first few weeks after the kidnapping, Julia had slept in Emily's bedroom. The house had been sold cheaply to get a quick sale. Their current property had been on Alan’s books for a while and he had shown it to her. The remoteness, the privacy and the brand new CCTV system had made the decision for them both.

  Once they moved in she had returned to her own bed but woke almost hourly to check on her daughter. It was the same with the CCTV. Since they moved to this house, sitting before the monitor during daytime hours had become an addiction, a compulsion in the early days. Now she limited herself to every couple of hours.

  She sat down and opened the book. There was an anxiety in the pit of her stomach that reached upwards to her throat.

  She tried to read a couple of pages but the words were jumbling together like a foreign language. The sentences made no sense.

  Julia told herself that it was because of the police visit earlier. She closed the book. She knew it wasn't that. When her thoughts rested on Emily the anxiety reacted like a poked wasp nest.

  She stood. It was no good. She had to go and check one more time. She would risk that expression of exhausted tolerance on her child's face.

  She mounted the stairs, forcing herself to remain calm. Tomorrow she'd do better. It reminded her of giving up smoking. She'd give up after the next one but this one, she had to have.

  Emily's door was exactly as she'd left it.

  Julia pushed it open gently. The evidence before her said that everything was as it should be but the wasps in her stomach said otherwise.

  The shaft of light from the hallway illuminated the sleeping form of her daughter.

  Justin Bieber sounded from the pillow.

  She moved closer to the bed and touched her daughter lightly on the hip. Her hand was swallowed by the plush quilt.

  Julia's heart beat loudly in her chest, drowning out the faint sound of the music.

  She reached over to turn on the bedside lamp. Instantly, the room illuminated, telling her eyes what her heart already knew.

  Emily was gone.

  The scream from Julia’s mouth filled the house.

  Seventy-Six

  ‘Okay, guys it’s almost ten and we've been at it for fifteen hours. Time to call it a night.’

  Kim rubbed her forehead. There was little else they could do at this stage.

  Everyone began tidying up their work area.

  ‘Leave it. I'll do it later.’

  Bryant gave her a look which she ignored. The last few hours had been spent poring over the old case notes, re-reading witness statements and trying to find some kind of geographical link.

  ‘You coming, Matt?’ Bryant asked from the doorway.

  ‘Nah, got detention,’ he said.

  Bryant smiled and hesitated. She knew he was looking her way but she didn’t look back.

  Everyone took a moment to bid Matt goodnight. Bloody traitors. He had gradually been wheedling his way into the team; making a fresh pot of coffee here, fetching a takeaway there. It might work on her feckless team but it wouldn’t work on her.

  ‘So, what's your strategy?’ she asked, as they faced each other across the table. ‘And don't say it's none of my business ’cos it bloody well is.’

  ‘Well, since you asked so nicely I'm going to tell you.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Yeah, you need all the help you can get. I'm going to get Stephen to make an offer first thing in the morning.’

  ‘You do know they've got no money?’

  ‘You caught that too?’

  ‘Hard to miss. Obviously Robert knew as well, which is why he started trying to negotiate for both girls. I can't hold that against him even though he pissed on your chips.’

  ‘But see, you're using emotion again and not logic.’

  Kim felt the familiar irritation growing inside her. ‘I'm acknowledging his generosity, not giving him a gold star.’

  Matt shrugged. ‘You're getting a bit close; a bit involved.’

  ‘Don't be bloody ridiculous,’ she snapped.

  ‘Really? Why did you take Stephen Hanson outside?’

  ‘I didn't appreciate his reference to body bags in front of the others.’

  ‘Nothing to do with him slapping his wife around?’ Matt asked.

  ‘The family dynamics of each couple are nothing to do with me.’

  He tutted. ‘You know, I hear the words but I just don't feel the conviction behind them. You're getting attached.’

  ‘I'm not, but even if I was, would that be such a bad thing?’

  He thought for a moment and then nodded. ‘Yes. You were right to take Stephen outside for what he said but Stephen is an easy man to confront. He's an arsehole and you don't like him. But would you have had the same conversation with Robert?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said, immediately. And she knew it to be true. She never got too close to
anyone, as demonstrated by the contact list on her phone.

  ‘Hmmm … we'll agree to differ on that one.’

  Kim offered a mock yawn. ‘And now I'd like to go to bed.’

  She looked pointedly at the door.

  Matt gathered up his folders and left the room without speaking.

  She didn’t appreciate his observation, not least because it echoed Bryant’s words to her earlier. She was not emotionally involved in the case. She was driven and determined to bring Charlie and Amy home. And she would not allow herself to think otherwise.

  The dining table resembled an explosion in a printing factory. She began tidying Bryant's pile first.

  ‘Err … we appear to have a problem,’ Matt said, coming back into the room.

  She rolled her eyes. ‘I told you …’

  ‘There appears to be a man in my bed.’

  ‘Excuse me …’

  Matt closed the door but still spoke quietly as he placed his folders back on the table. ‘Stephen Hanson is sleeping on the sofa so I'm guessing his wife knows about the money.’

  She looked at the folders and then back at him. ‘I’ve spotted at least four sofas, five armchairs and a giant bean bag. I’m sure …’

  His words trailed away as her phone began to ring.

  It was not a number she recognised. Her first thought was of the kidnappers and a fresh phone, but the number began with the area prefix.

  ‘Stone,’ she answered.

  Silence greeted her at the other end.

  Kim cast a glance at Matt, who had stopped messing with his papers.

  ‘Stone,’ she repeated.

  Still nothing but the line was active. Behind the silence was the background hum of traffic.

  ‘Hello,’ she said, softly.

  ‘Is that the police lady?’

  The voice was soft, young and scared.

  ‘This is Kim Stone.’

  ‘It's Emily … Emily Trueman. I've run away.’

  ‘Oh Jesus,’ Kim said. Matt was watching her intently. ‘Emily, where are you?’

  ‘I caught a bus. I think I'm in Lye.’

  ‘Tell me what's around you. What can you see?’

  ‘There's a pub called The Railway. There are three men standing outside smoking. There's an Indian restaurant on the corner and a pizza takeaway on the …’