Little Girl Lost (Detective Robyn Carter crime thriller series Book 1)

by Carol Wyer

  ‘You look different.’

  ‘It’s just this dim light here,’ I say as I accompany him down the stairs and out of the building. A concierge hidden behind a desk asks if we require a taxi but I daren’t let him see my face so I walk on through the door without replying. I grab Lucas’s arm and guide him to my car.

  Outside, it is quiet. The building, in the shape of a propeller, was clearly built with aviation in mind. I am impressed by it as I stand in the car park waiting to see if we have been spotted. There is the drone of the occasional car as it drives past and I savour the freshening air that has replaced the sultry heat of the day. I am certain no one can see us. I have parked away from the hotel and no rooms overlook the car park. He is feeling the effects of the drugs now and like an obedient child, allows me to push him into the boot of my car. I shut the lid with haste and drive. I know exactly what I am going to do to him.

  53

  ‘I understand this is incredibly stressful, Mrs Thorne, but I need you to try and recall as much as possible. Can you describe the man who stole your handbag?’

  Abigail looked up at the police sergeant, her face swollen with crying. He had a caring face with warm brown eyes. He had accompanied her into the room at the back of the station and made her a cup of tea with lots of sugar while she had sat and sobbed. Everything was a fog now. This all felt unreal. Any minute now she would wake up. Izzy would be in her cot, waiting for her. This wasn’t happening.

  She could remember screaming when she discovered Izzy missing, and running around the car park, blood turned to ice, hunting for her, screaming her name, pleading for her to be returned. People had stopped and stared, none of them helping her, none of them comprehending her terrifying misery. She must have looked like a wild woman. Then there had been a mature woman, wearing a brown uniform like those worn by staff in the supermarket. She had approached Abigail, whose head was turning back and forth as if on a coiled spring, trying to spot Izzy. The woman had managed to get Abigail to explain.

  ‘My baby. She’s been snatched,’ Abigail had gasped, pulling away again to run towards a young woman pushing a buggy. The baby snuggled under a yellow blanket wasn’t Izzy and Abigail had fallen to her knees, simultaneously screaming and crying, her heart shattered into a million pieces.

  The police had been called to the scene. One had stayed behind to question people and look for her baby girl. They had wanted to take her to the station but she didn’t want to leave the car park in case it had all been a horrible mistake and Izzy was returned. But of course it wasn’t a mistake. At last, a female officer, the one sat next to her now, had driven her to the station not far from the shopping centre, and tried to contact Jackson. Jackson was in the Channel Islands but was now headed home. Abigail could no longer think clearly. She wanted Jackson. More than that, she wanted her baby back.

  ‘He was about six foot, dark brown or black hair.’ She stopped as tears filled her eyes again and cascaded down her face. The female PC next to her patted her hand gently. ‘I can’t remember what he looked like. He had blue trousers and a grey bomber jacket and heavy eyebrows and green eyes. That’s when I realised he wasn’t Lucas.’

  ‘Were you expecting to meet Lucas?’

  She nodded. ‘He’d phoned me. We arranged to meet at the Meads.’

  ‘Is Lucas a friend?’

  ‘No,’ said Abigail. ‘He’s my brother.’

  54

  Now

  People are so gullible and Abigail is no exception. She provided me with the perfect opportunity to grab Izzy. She actually believed I was Lucas. How wrong could she be?

  I am so quick thinking. I only had ten minutes to organise everything. Fortunately, I was already at the Meads when I phoned her. The homeless man didn’t question me when I offered him fifty pounds to approach a white Range Rover Evoque in the car park and grab the occupant’s handbag from the passenger seat. Abigail ought to know better. We are constantly warned about leaving handbags on front seats of cars, and as for winding down a window to a stranger – tsk, tsk, Abigail. I told the man he wasn’t to keep the handbag or contents, or I’d report him to the police. He was to drop it in the alleyway and then hide in the supermarket. I explained it was all a prank. He didn’t care what I told him, fifty quid was fifty quid and I think he’d have done almost anything for it.

  I didn’t have long to disguise myself but an old coat out of the charity shop and a headscarf did the trick. I rammed a couple of plastic bags full of stuff from the recycling bins at the back of the car park, so it looked like I had shopping in them, and shuffled past her car. She barely looked in my direction. Hiding in full view always works.

  I had anticipated her moves. I banked on the fact she would be so steamed up about Lucas that she wouldn’t think clearly and would act on instinct when the man stole her bag. I know her well enough. After all, we’ve been best mates for a few years. I bargained on her leaving Izzy for a few moments. If she hadn’t chased after him I’d have come up with something else. I stationed myself behind an estate car out of view and she didn’t spot me watching as she belted after the man.

  It only took a few seconds to unclip Izzy’s car seat and lug it out. I sauntered in the opposite direction to Abigail. My car was parked at the other side of the supermarket. It’s best not to draw attention to yourself when you are kidnapping a child, so I behaved as if she were my own. I popped her into one of the supermarket trolleys along with the bags. People take no notice of a woman and baby if the mother is murmuring to her offspring and ignoring everything else. It’s just another mother and child going shopping.

  Oh, Abigail, what emotions will you experience now? Disbelief? Horror? Anxiety? True unhappiness? Good. You deserve to feel them all.

  55

  The drive back to Paul Matthews’ house seemed to take forever and Robyn, stiff from sitting for so long without a break, flung her car door open and breathed in the fresh air with relief. Ross’s car was parked on the drive. He was no doubt hunting for a toy rabbit in the woods.

  She got out of the car and stretched her arms high above her head. Her back creaked. An indication that time was ticking and she was getting older. She stretched her neck from side to side, taking in the vista below. A herd of young black and white cows grazed in the field and in the distance, a red tractor trundled down a field, towing a trailer laden with bales of hay.

  ‘You owe me a meal out and a chocolate bar,’ said Ross, appearing up the slope, his face red. He carried a jacket over his arm. Sweat stains had spread under the arms of his T-shirt.

  ‘I’ll treat you to a delicious quinoa and mung-bean salad at the health bar in town. How about that?’

  Ross made disgusting noises. She waited until he stopped.

  ‘Was I right?’

  He shook his head. ‘Couldn’t find it. I looked up in trees and places a detective might not have looked but there was no rabbit. Sorry.’

  Robyn cursed. She was convinced the rabbit would be in the woods. She was losing her touch. Maybe she should retire from the force once and for all and join Ross full-time. She stared at the woods and chewed on her lip before speaking again.

  ‘I’m going to check Paul’s house again.’

  ‘You got a warrant or do I have to pretend to buy the place again?’

  ‘It’s all legal this time. Mitz Patel is at the estate agent getting the key. Got a warrant and everything. Mulholland is brassed off with me though. She wants a murderer dragged through the station doors and I haven’t found anyone I can bring in. I honestly thought I had a pattern going on with the rabbits and that I could prove Paul’s murder wasn’t an accident – that we have a serial killer on our hands.’

  ‘We all make mistakes,’ said Ross, seeing the look on her face.

  ‘I know, but I was so sure about it. I was positive there was a link between the deaths of Christina, Lucas, Mary and Paul. I still am. I can’t let it go.’

  Ross leant against the car. ‘Look, I’m pooped. I’m going
to leave you to it. I need a shower.’

  ‘Really sorry this was a waste of time, Ross. I’ll treat you to that meal.’

  ‘You’re okay. I enjoyed the walk. It’s very relaxing in there. Jeanette will be happy with me. And it did me good. Call me if you want anything else. But,’ he added, ‘not another long hike in the woods again too soon.’

  He clambered into his car and drove off with a wave, passing PC Patel as he went.

  PC Patel beamed as he and Anna approached the house. ‘Got the key. Apparently, the house is off the market though. There’s some dispute over the will.’

  He passed the key to Robyn who opened the door to the impressive hallway.

  Anna drew a breath as she took in the grand entrance hall. ‘What a huge pad.’

  ‘Yeah, my mum and dad would love this.’ He pointed at the staircase at the end of the hallway. ‘Those stairs would be a nightmare though for my gran. They’re really steep. She can’t manage stairs.’

  ‘Your gran lives with you too?’ asked Anna.

  ‘Yeah, she’s in the annexe. It used to be a garage but my dad converted it when my granddad died, so my gran could live with us. She has her own bathroom and toilet and sitting room. She stays there a lot but sometimes she comes and watches television with us. She’s lovely, is my gran. Makes the best onion bhajis in the world.’

  Robyn smiled at him. ‘You’re a proper family man, aren’t you?’

  ‘Yeah. I love my parents. They’ve been really good to me. I’d like to buy a house on the same street as them then I could still see them regularly. I wouldn’t have to do that if we all lived in a house like this. It’d be wicked.’

  ‘I’m not sure what I’m looking for, so if you two want to have a poke around, I’m going into the kitchen. I keep getting a feeling I missed something when I was there last.’

  She left Anna staring at the conservatory and went back into the kitchen where she had stood with Geraldine Marsh.

  The place looked exactly the same as the last time she had visited. The DVDs were still on the floor next to the DVD player and the magazines were piled on the island. She walked towards the snug area and looked around it, taking in the black leather chair and mismatched furniture. It felt lonely here. It was large but empty, devoid of any warmth, laughter or love that should exist in a house like this. If PC Patel and his family lived here it would be a different place, she mused. She eyed the collection of DVDs. There was a series of programmes about animals in the Arctic, several on animals in Africa and various documentaries on birds – but nothing to help her.

  PC Patel wandered into the kitchen. ‘Anna is upstairs. Found anything?

  ‘I’m stumped. What do you see, Mitz? I’m searching for something that might help explain why Paul Matthews was interested in going to Farnborough.’

  ‘Are there any letters, cards or correspondence from someone who lives there? We usually leave our letters in a letter rack on the kitchen top if they need dealing with. You know, bills, that sort of thing. Maybe he got a letter from someone who lives there.’

  ‘There’s nothing visible,’ replied Robyn, looking about the room. ‘No letter rack.’

  ‘He seemed obsessed with nature. I’ve never seen so many DVDs on the subject. Penguins, elephants, underwater creatures, birds. He liked birds,’ continued Mitz Patel, eyeing the collection of DVDs. ‘No films at all. That’s unusual. He was a serious man, unless he had a subscription to a movie channel.’

  Robyn moved towards the island. ‘Keep looking and keep talking. What else do you see, Mitz?’

  ‘He’s also got loads of magazines. Are they all to do with animals and birds too? He obviously reads a lot. And, he doesn’t throw his magazines away. Once I’ve read one, I dump it. These are all laid out in regular piles too. Considering the rest of the place looks a bit of a mess, he’s super tidy when it comes to his magazines. There must be some bills or letters somewhere in the house. Nobody has no mail at all,’ he continued, moving towards the laundry room.

  Robyn stared at the top magazine thoughtfully. ‘You’re right. His magazines are tidy. So why is there one magazine open and bent back at this page?’ she shouted.

  ‘He was reading it before he went out?’

  ‘Possible.’ Robyn picked up the magazine and stared at the page open to reveal the winning photographs in a photography competition. The shot of the beautiful creamy brown marsh eagle was a worthy winner. Robyn suddenly felt the hairs on her neck rise. This was the clue she had been searching for. Underneath the photograph was a headshot of the winner. The name read Miss Zoe Cooper, Farnborough. The name might read Zoe Cooper but Robyn recognised the picture of the unsmiling woman in the headshot. It was not Zoe. She had seen that face before in one of Abigail’s photographs. It was Claire Lewis.

  She tapped the photograph. ‘Bingo! Paul Matthews saw this picture and recognised the woman in it. This is the connection we’ve been searching for. Paul Matthews knew her face but not her name and from this article he assumed her name was Zoe Cooper. We have a suspect at last,’ she said, triumphantly.

  ‘So who’s that in the photograph?’ asked Mitz, returning with a handful of letters.

  ‘She’s not who Paul Matthews thought she was. The woman in the picture is Claire Lewis. She’s one of Zoe’s friends and is also best friends with Abigail Thorne. I saw a photograph of her at Abigail’s house, that’s how I know it’s her.’

  Mitz handed her the mail in his hands. ‘Being a big posh house, there’s no letter box opening in the door,’ he said, ‘but there is a large wooden letter box outside on the wall. I think someone collected the post and placed it in the laundry room unopened. Maybe Paul Matthews did it himself before he went for a run. There isn’t much mail but there’s one letter you might want to look at. It’s postmarked Farnborough the day before Paul Matthews died.’

  Robyn put down the magazine. Adrenalin began to course through her veins. ‘Have you got any gloves?’

  He pulled out some plastic gloves from his pocket and passed her a pair.

  ‘Always prepared. I think you’ll go far, PC Patel.’

  ‘Hope so, ma’am. Have to earn enough to get my own place.’

  Robyn pulled on the gloves and took the letter from Mitz. She slit it open with a finger and pulled out the card inside. The face of it bore a photograph of a rabbit chewing grass. Inside was a message written in capital letters.

  Robyn read,

  Run rabbit run, today is going to be your last race.

  The tortoise always wins.

  RIP Paul Matthews.

  Alice.

  She passed the card to Mitz and called Anna who bounded down the stairs to join them.

  ‘It’s well spooky up there. The rooms are all so miserable and dated. Those stairs are lethal too. I slipped and nearly landed on my bum. Hardly surprising Geraldine Matthews lost her footing. What have you got?’

  ‘A whopping clue and lead thanks to Mitz. Have this card checked for prints. We need to get hold of Claire Lewis for questioning as soon as possible. Phone Hampshire Constabulary and alert them. She’s apparently in Scotland but might be due home soon. Try to locate her whereabouts using her mobile and service provider and once you’ve an idea, target guest houses, hotels and rented accommodation in the vicinity to see if she checked in or out of anywhere. I’m returning to Farnborough to talk to them both. I want Abigail Thorne and Claire Lewis pulled in as soon as possible.’

  Robyn threw herself back into her car with renewed enthusiasm. It all revolved around Alice. Alice had come back into the Matthews’ lives. And, if Paul Matthews had been correct, then Alice Forman and Claire Lewis were one and the same person. Now Robyn needed to know what had driven the woman to murder Paul Matthews, and if she had also killed Lucas.

  The toy rabbit found on Lucas Matthews, the one at Mulwood Avenue and the card they had just lighted upon at Paul’s house were significant, and linked the murders. It now seemed likely that Paul Matthews had also been killed. The
card was possible proof of this but Robyn needed more than a sinister message to convince her superiors. The tingling sensation that ran up her spine told Robyn she was right with her assumptions. Alice had killed Paul, Lucas and Mary. However, assumptions didn’t stand up in court or in front of DCI Mulholland. Robyn had to be one hundred per cent sure and have concrete evidence. She ran through what she had so far.

  Paul Matthews believed the photograph in the magazine was of Alice Forman, now masquerading as someone by the name of Zoe Cooper. She was curious how he had recognised the photograph given he had not, presumably, seen Alice for years. That question would have to wait. The photograph was of Claire Lewis, not Zoe Cooper, therefore Claire must have used Zoe’s name as an alias, yet this raised the question of why Claire would use her own photo and Zoe’s name? Finally, there was the question of why Paul Matthews was hunting down the woman in the photograph. Robyn could only think of one reason and that was because he thought the person in the photograph was blackmailing Lucas.

  Robyn drummed her fingers impatiently. She mulled over the information she had. Then her sixth sense kicked in and she thought she knew the reason. What if Claire Lewis had blackmailed Lucas Matthews but used Zoe’s name instead of her own?

  Robyn could feel the answers tumbling in front of her like blocks, each containing a letter that made no sense until all the blocks were in the correct order. She thought of Davies. He was an expert in conundrums and codes. He would have worked this out far quicker than her. Suddenly, it fell into place. Claire Lewis was Alice, but for some reason she had used Zoe’s name for the photography competition. Paul had recognised her in the photograph and assumed she was using the alias Zoe Cooper. He had arranged to track her down and shown Lucas the photograph of Claire. Both men had searched for Alice who they supposed was now calling herself Zoe Cooper. When Lucas finally tracked down Zoe, she hadn’t resembled the woman in the photograph. That was why he hadn’t approached her at the Sky Bar.