She leans over the kitchen counter, her chest heaving. ‘It’s . . . I find it so hard to think about.’
I reach out and place a hand on her shoulder. ‘I know, and I’m sorry that I have to ask. But I need to find Ginny. If you can help in any way . . .’
‘I’ll look through his things,’ she says. ‘He had to buy the land in the woods surrounding the bunker before he abducted Aiden. Maybe he’s bought other land, too. If he did, maybe there’s some paperwork that was missed in the first investigation.’ She straightens up, collecting herself. ‘I don’t know, though, Emma. Two children in two places? Logistically, how would that work?’
All I can do is shrug. ‘I don’t know either. He was planning to kill Aiden when he turned sixteen.’ I close my eyes against the swelling rage that comes with these thoughts. When I compose myself, I say, ‘He needed a replacement.’
‘Why wouldn’t he use Aiden’s bunker?’
Behind me there’s a rumbling and a click as the kettle boils and turns itself off. My heart leaps at the sound. ‘You’re right, I don’t know. He had everything set up there. Unless he’d found a better location.’
Josie lifts the kettle and begins to pour. ‘What has our life become that we have to think these dark thoughts. I still don’t know how I could have married a monster like him.’ Her hands shake so much that she spills some of the water and places the kettle down.
‘Can I tell you something?’ I rest my head against one of the cupboard doors, exhaustion seeping into every part of my body.
‘You can tell me anything, you know that.’
‘There are days when I miss Jake.’ I tap my forehead against the wood. ‘I know who, what, he was. A murderer. A predator. But for most of the time we were together, I knew him as the man who loved me. Is that sick?’
When I turn to Josie, I realise that there are tears rolling down her nose. ‘I miss Hugh as well. I hate him. And I miss him. Whenever anything happens in my life my first thought is to tell Hugh about it, until I remember he’s dead. And then I remember what he did.’ She wipes the tears away with the heel of her hand. ‘What’s wrong with me? Why am I like this?’
We grasp hands, holding tight.
‘There’s nothing wrong with us, Jo. We’re not the monsters, are we? Let’s not feel guilty about this.’ I take a deep, long breath. ‘I think therapy is long overdue for us.’
She laughs. ‘I think you’re right.’
‘I think we miss love, not them. We miss the people they pretended to be when they were with us.’ I let her go for a moment and wipe away the rest of my tears. I won’t waste any more on Jake Hewitt or Hugh Barratt. ‘Come on, let’s hurry up with these teas before the kettle goes cold.’
‘Mum?’
Of course, we didn’t hear Aiden’s soft footsteps. The sound of his voice makes me audibly gasp.
‘Sorry, love, you made me jump!’
‘Mum,’ he says again, and this time I hear the warning.
‘What is it?’ I cross the kitchen in less than five strides. He has the laptop in his hands.
‘They’ve found out about the ransom note,’ he says.
‘Who?’ Josie leans forward as I reach out to take the laptop.
The ‘news’ website isn’t a particularly reputable one. It’s the kind that sends out clickbait articles with a slideshow of twenty or more pictures of celebrities. I suppose Aiden and I are celebrities in our own way, in the sense that we’re infamous. I scan the page filled with tacky adverts for liposuction and celebrity gossip. The headline reads, RANSOM LETTER DELIVERED TO PRICE FAMILY. Then it begins dramatically with: There has been a new development in the case of missing girl, Gina Price. Sources tell us a ransom letter has been delivered to the family, demanding £50,000 in exchange for her safe delivery.
It goes on, but I prise my eyes away from the screen. This jeopardises everything.
Chapter Seventeen
EMMA
It takes some restraint not to throw the laptop against the wall. How could this happen? No one knows about the ransom letter except for the police, Rob and Josie. I trust them both with my life. Neither of them would let anything bad happen to Gina.
‘I don’t believe it.’ Instead of throwing it, I place the laptop down on the kitchen table and press my fingers against closed eyelids. ‘Who did this?’
‘Try to stay calm, Em.’ Rob’s voice barely penetrates the thick cloud of anger engulfing me. ‘We’re going to figure this out. Give Stevenson a call.’
I nod my head. The police need to know about this as soon as possible. I check the time the article was posted. It was barely an hour a go. Perhaps the police can scare the site into taking it down before anyone else sees it.
‘How did you find it?’ I turn to Aiden at the same time that I retrieve my phone from my pocket. He answers while I’m searching for Stevenson in my contacts.
‘Someone on Instagram sent it to me.’
I shake my head. ‘Aiden, you shouldn’t be talking to people like that.’
‘It helped us, didn’t it?’ he says quietly.
‘You know how dangerous it is to talk to anyone who isn’t in this room.’ My fingers tremble as I tap on the icon to call Stevenson. ‘You can’t connect with these people. Did you tell anyone about the ransom note?’
His eyes drift to his feet. Rob moves closer to his son and places a protective arm around his shoulder. For a moment there I feel locked out of their paternal bond.
‘Come on, Em. You know he’s not stupid,’ Rob says.
The phone is ringing. I take a deep breath.
‘I’m sorry, matey,’ I offer. ‘I know it wasn’t you.’
Aiden just nods his head, still avoiding my eye contact.
‘It’s not you I’m mad at,’ I add. ‘It’s whoever leaked this to the press.’
As the phone continues to ring, my hand shakes with fury. Someone at that clickbait news site typed this article knowing that it could put a four-year-old child’s life in danger. The rage that induces consumes me whole. It’s physical, like a virus. But I can’t let it spill out on the people I love.
‘Stevenson.’
‘The ransom note has leaked,’ I blurt out. ‘Some scummy pseudo-journalist has typed up every single fucking detail about the letter.’
‘Tell me the name of the site.’
I reel off the details through my teeth, pacing up and down in the small kitchen while everyone else stands around me looking awkward. Josie bites her lower lip. Aiden stares at the floor. Rob grips his cane, knuckles white.
‘Give me a list of everyone you told,’ says Stevenson.
I tell him. Aiden, obviously, Josie and Rob.
‘That’s it?’
‘Rob did you tell your parents?’ I check.
‘No.’
‘Yes, that’s it. It was one of your coppers. It had to be.’
‘Let’s not jump to any conclusions,’ he says. ‘The most important thing to do now is to get this site to remove the article before any national newspapers decide to print it.’
‘Is that possible?’
‘I’ll make it possible,’ he says. ‘No self-respecting journalist would print this. No one wants to be sued if . . .’ he trails off, but I know the end of that sentence. If the child dies. ‘This is the desperate act of a site wanting attention no matter the cost. I’m so sorry, Emma. I know this doesn’t make you feel much better, but if this ransom letter turns out to be fake, it won’t make any difference anyway.’
I know this is true, but the damage is done. Someone at the police did this, and now I know that I can’t trust them.
Three long hours later, the article is removed. After an extensive web search, we accept that no one else has taken the information and written another article, but it was shared a few dozen times by various Facebook accounts. People have seen and read it. My nerves are drawn tight. The atmosphere in the house adopts the same level of tension and it begins to feel as though the walls are closing in.
&nbs
p; Neither Rob nor Josie want to leave me alone, or maybe they don’t want to leave Aiden alone with me. I snapped at him harshly when he told me about his Instagram account. But after regretting losing my temper, I agree he can keep it open in case anyone messages him with a sighting of Gina. I concede that it could actually be useful, but the idea of all that internet toxicity touching my son makes my stomach churn.
‘You have to remember that none of those people are your friends,’ I tell him. ‘Unless you’ve met someone in real life, you don’t know who they are. It’s important not to let them too close, OK?’
But everything I say is tainted by the harsh words spoken before. I don’t feel like he’s even listening to me.
Evening turns into night. I manage to eat some toast, but I’m far too wound up to eat a real meal. I wish I had the ransom letter to look at but it’s still at the police station. The only update I’ve had is that they’re running tests on it, trying to find some DNA evidence that might give them a lead.
Eventually, Josie convinces me to go to bed and this time I use my old bedroom, rather than pass out on the sofa. The bones of me ache with exhaustion and I long for a way to stop the pain. During these drawn-out days I’ve craved alcohol more than ever before, but I can’t allow myself to touch it. I feel like I’d start drinking and never stop.
In my dreams, Aiden is buried alive. I kneel on the soil digging with my hands, desperate to find him. The ghost of Gina stands behind me, laughing.
Morning comes and I wake with a start, expecting to find dirt beneath my fingernails. There’s nothing, but I’m drenched in sweat after another hot night in this relentless Indian summer. I throw back the duvet and sit up, breathing in the heavy air. Wherever Gina is, I hope she isn’t overheating. I imagine her tiny body covered in perspiration, flushed pink around her neck. She still carries baby fat, and her legs are chubbily cute. I miss them. Miss the smell of her.
Seven days.
One week ago, I spent the morning organising Aiden and Gina for the television interview. Aiden was wearing his smart blue shirt and I had on my grey suit. We drove to London, navigated the terrifying roads, arrived at the studio and had our make-up done. Gina charmed the assistants, producers and make-up artists. It feels as real as the nightmare I had last night.
And now all of that is over and I’m in agony.
I lie back down on the bed and wash the sweat clean with my tears.
‘Emma! Em!’
Rob’s voice doesn’t hold the power it used to, but I hear the urgency as he calls up the stairs. Moving quickly, I wipe away tears and grab my dressing gown. News? Good news?
‘Emma, we’ve heard from them,’ he shouts. ‘Aiden! Come down.’
My feet beat their way down the stairs, almost tripping. Don’t kill yourself now, I tell myself. Stay alive for her.
‘What is it?’ I ask, running into the living room with Aiden a few steps behind.
‘I just got off the phone with Mum. Another letter turned up at their house.’
‘What?’ I brush damp hair away from my face. ‘But that makes no sense. Why would the letter go to your parents?’
‘I guess the kidnapper figured out the police were watching your house. Or they saw us installing the cameras, maybe,’ he suggests.
Whoever this person is, they’re clever. After a full week, they haven’t made any mistakes. They know where I live, where Rob and his parents live. Either this person has stalked us – which wouldn’t be hard to do considering the amount of paparazzi photos of us online – or they know the village and they know me. Amy knows me. Amy knows the village.
‘What does the letter say?’ I ask.
‘They’re bringing it over,’ he says. ‘But she read it out to me on the phone. The letter gives details about a specific drop. They want the money on Friday, and they want Aiden to deliver it.’
I turn to my son and my heart almost beats out of my chest. ‘Why Aiden?’
‘I don’t know,’ he replies. ‘Maybe we’ll find out more when the letter gets here.’
‘You’re not doing it,’ I say to my son.
‘I will if it means getting Gina back,’ Aiden replies. There’s that steel in his eyes again. I remember it from the day his new book arrived at the flat in Manchester. One of the few times Aiden has argued back.
‘It’s too dangerous.’ I shake my head, thoughts swirling through my mind. I want nothing more than my daughter home and safe, but this means putting my other child in danger. How can I do that? ‘If something happened to you, I’d never forgive myself.’
‘Why would you need to forgive yourself?’ he says, his voice cold as ice. ‘This is my decision to make. I’m an adult, remember?’
‘Hey, now.’ Rob places a comforting hand on my shoulder. ‘Let’s speak to the police and see what they have to say about it. They might be able to come to a solution that keeps Aiden safe if he were to do the drop.’
‘No, he can’t!’ I back away from them. ‘I’ll do it. I can’t let Aiden do it.’
‘But that’s what they want,’ Aiden insists. ‘This is for Gina, remember? Have you forgotten her?’
‘That’s . . . that’s unfair.’ I say. ‘Don’t you both see that this was her plan all along?’
‘Whose plan, Em?’ Rob’s voice has that soothing, patient edge to it that suggests he’s humouring the crazy woman.
‘Amy. She wants to draw Aiden out and then hurt him so that I’m punished for what I did to her. This isn’t about money. She’s going to try and kill him, I’m sure of it.’
‘Come on, be sensible,’ Rob says. ‘How would she do that with police all around her? She’s not going to be on a roof with a sniper rifle.’
‘Maybe she’s hired someone who can.’
‘How?’
‘I don’t know. The dark web.’
Rob leans over me, reminding me of the power he once had. ‘You’re letting paranoia get the best of you. For all we know, Amy killed herself months ago and this is someone hoping to earn a few quid by taking a child from a high-profile family.’
I shake my head, infuriated that he’s dismissing my fears so easily. ‘That makes even less sense, Rob.’
The knock on the door pulls us both out of the spiralling argument and I’m glad of it. It’s Josie who goes to the door, which surprises me because I hadn’t even noticed her still in the room.
‘Are you OK, Mum?’ Aiden asks.
I place one hand on my chest, hoping the warmth will calm the pounding heart within. I nod my head.
‘Emma!’ Sonya’s voice cuts through the brief moment of quiet. ‘Why didn’t you tell us?’
It’s Rob who answers. ‘It was my decision, Mum.’
‘You don’t trust us?’ She storms into the lounge, her gaze directed at me. ‘We’ve been pulled into this without any warning.’
‘I know. I’m sorry,’ I say, but the truth is I’m not. I couldn’t predict that the letter would go to them. If they had to be pulled into this mess, so be it. Whatever it takes to get Gina back.
‘Emma didn’t mean for this to happen.’ Josie slumps into an armchair, her voice and body exhausted.
‘Did you put the letter in plastic?’ I ask.
‘Yes. I’m not an idiot. It’s in a sandwich bag.’
‘With the envelope?’
She nods. ‘There’s no stamp.’
Whoever delivered this did it by hand, and they know where Rob’s parents live.
‘Can I see it?’
She hands me the note, slippery inside the plastic coating. I examine it closely, taking in as much of the detail as I can. It’s written in block capitals again. The paper is normal A4, folded into three sections to fit inside a regular envelope. On the other side of the paper, I see the Manila envelope with the address also written in block letters.
IT IS TIME TO DELIVER THE MONEY.
MIDNIGHT. FRIDAY NIGHT. THE ENTRANCE TO ROUGH VALLEY FOREST.
AIDEN MUST COME ALONE.
GINA
IS WAITING FOR YOU.
Chapter Eighteen
AIDEN
It’s Friday at 10 p.m. and the night is still warm. The kitchen windows are wide open and the air carries the scents of the village, from the faint woodiness of Rough Valley Forest to the smokiness of late-night summer barbecues.
We’re sitting around the table. I have a bag of money by my feet. DCI Stevenson is on speakerphone, talking us through the details once again. Walk. Walk. Place money down. Wait for Gina. Walk. Walk. Drive.
Police will be with us in the shadows, their guns trained and ready for the kidnapper to show her, or his, face. It will be dark. I don’t like my odds if I get in the way of a bullet.
Keeping the victim alive is their priority. Capturing the kidnapper is a lower priority, at least that’s what they’ve told us.
Between Wednesday and now, Mum has prowled the house like a lioness in a contemplative stupor. She comes out of her fog and roars, and then she drifts back into her thoughts. There isn’t much I can say or do to alleviate her pain, but I know one thing – I’m right there with her. I’m feeling every bit of it.
After Grandma and Grandad delivered the note, Mum called DCI Stevenson and we began to form a plan to deal with the new demands. Firstly, another non-uniformed officer called round. We gave him the letter and he took it for testing. Stevenson told us that two letters gave them a much greater chance of finding DNA.
At Mum’s request, the police compared handwriting samples between Amy Perry’s documents from when she was a teacher, with the written notes sent to us. The results were inconclusive. The only particles found on the letters came from surgical gloves. There was nothing to prove or disprove Mum’s suspicions. With each blow I watch her paranoia grow. But my own suspicions dwindle. We’re becoming more and more in opposition with each other. Faith says Mum isn’t looking out for my best interests because she’s in the middle of something called hysteria.
After the tests were completed, we met with a prepped bank manager to help us with the money. The police wanted to use marked notes to stop the kidnapper from being able to spend them. They also gave us a bag equipped with a GPS tracker so that they can follow the kidnapper after the exchange has been made.
Stolen Girl Page 10
