by Carol Wyer
Robyn could imagine the trauma of sitting in front of a camera crew, begging for her child to be returned. Poor Abigail. It would be a horrendous ordeal. There was a slim chance someone who had Izzy would see the appeal and return her, but more likely Jackson and Abigail Thorne would bare their heartache and misery in front of thousands of people on national television, only to be met with suspicion and more hoax calls.
Robyn dropped into a chair and closed her eyes. Davies would have worked out what was going on. He was one of the brightest men she had ever met. His mind was sharp and permanently active. If ever she was stuck on a crossword clue, she would ask him and he would answer immediately. He was brilliant at cryptic clues. Since his death she hadn’t picked up a crossword.
She allowed her mind to trawl through the recent conversations she’d had, trying to find one fragment that would help her. Izzy’s disappearance was part of some game plan. Alice was trying to destroy Abigail’s life and so far had destabilised her marriage, successfully alienated some of her friends and caused her extreme stress. Izzy being snatched was part of this. Alice had allowed her grudge against the Matthews to grow and grow and now was out of control. There was no telling what she would do next.
Robyn’s mind churned around the facts. Someone was Alice. It wasn’t Zoe because she had an alibi for the night Lucas was spotted leaving the hotel, having been in London all week. She couldn’t have murdered Lucas Matthews.
To her knowledge, Claire didn’t have an alibi for the night Lucas was last seen alive. She had gone home to check on a burglar alarm and gone to bed. She might have returned to the hotel and left with Lucas. Yet Claire couldn’t possibly have abducted Izzy from the car park in Farnborough if she was trundling around Scotland, photographing animals. She couldn’t be in two places at once. Robyn picked up her mobile and called Jack Bond, the owner of Squirrel Lodge. He answered immediately and his voice boomed in reply to her question.
‘Aye, she booked last month. Luckily Squirrel Lodge was vacant. All our cottages are full next week, so it was a good job she didn’t call then.’
‘Have you met Miss Lewis?’
‘I handed her the keys to the house when she arrived. I offered to show her how everything worked, but she was tired after the drive and wanted to get some sleep. I’ve not seen anything of her since. Her car was there yesterday, as I told the police officer.’
‘Is her car at the lodge now?’
‘I’m not sure. I’d have to drive over. I live twenty minutes away.’
‘Could you please check for me?’
He hesitated before answering. She could imagine the puzzlement on his face. ‘Okay. I suppose so.’
‘I’d be very grateful, Mr Bond.’
Robyn hung up and juggled with the problem, turning it this way and that in her mind until she came up with a possible solution. She had to face up to the fact that when Izzy was abducted, Claire was in Scotland. She could not have taken the baby. She closed her eyes again. Perhaps there was one possibility. If Claire had someone assisting her then that would make it feasible. She needn’t be in two places at once. She could have had someone take Izzy while she was hundreds of miles away. Robyn sat back, satisfied with her deduction. She could imagine Davies silently applauding her.
Abigail had believed that Lucas and Rachel Croft were partners in some way. Rachel wasn’t working with Lucas but she might be with someone else, maybe even Claire, now miles away, offering Claire the perfect alibi. Robyn made for the front office where PC Warrington was talking to someone on the phone. He looked up and covered the mouthpiece with a hand. ‘Can I help?’ he said.
‘You spoke to Rachel Croft about Isobel Thorne. Abigail was certain Rachel had something to do with the kidnapping.’
‘Officers were sent to her home as soon as Abigail Thorne told us she believed the woman to be working in conjunction with Lucas Matthews. She was out. Once we heard Matthews was dead, we didn’t pursue that line of enquiry. Seemed little point.’
‘I’d like to interview her. She might know something.’
Brendan Warrington shrugged. ‘Okay. Want me to tell the guv?’
‘It’s okay, I’ll let him know.’ She located the DCI’s office and rapped on the door.
Corrance was staring at his computer, his lip curled.
‘Some days I hate my job,’ he grumbled. ‘Ever since we asked around the shopping centre we’ve been getting hoax calls from people claiming to have spotted the child. Even had one from Spain and someone who sent a photo of a kid who’s about three years old. It’s impossible to look into all the claims. It’ll be worse if the Thornes make a plea on television. We get some right crazies phoning in. Now someone has posted about it online and #LittleGirlLost is trending on Twitter with hundreds of people posting photographs of babies and children, none of them relevant to this case.’ He pointed to the latest tweet thread that claimed Abigail was a lousy mother and had deliberately left her baby. ‘Why do people do that sort of thing? This isn’t some sort of game we’re playing.’
‘Beyond me, sir. Social media has its place but it’s sometimes abused. I’d like to interview Rachel Cook. Her name came up earlier and I want to see if she knows anything.’
‘Knock yourself out,’ he replied. ‘I don’t think it’ll be productive but go ahead anyway.’
Robyn thanked him. He grunted something and continued looking at his computer screen. Robyn decided she had outstayed her welcome and left him to it.
64
Rachel’s home was a first floor, two-bedroomed maisonette off Reading Road in the heart of Farnborough. It was situated in a bland brick building with communal gardens. Robyn pulled into the space reserved for the property and, bounding up the stairs, hammered on Rachel’s door. There was no reply, much as there had been no response to the phone call Robyn had made to her mobile while driving. Like Claire Lewis, Rachel Croft was out of contact.
Robyn knocked again, more loudly. Nothing.
‘She must be out. Her car isn’t here. According to records it’s a dark red Toyota Yaris hybrid,’ said Ross.
Robyn kicked the door in frustration and turned to join Ross who was descending the stairs. Then she paused. She could hear a muffled thud coming from inside. It happened again and again.
‘Ross, there’s someone in there.’ She knocked once more and was rewarded with another faint noise in response. There was definitely someone in the place.
‘Not a radio?’ asked Ross.
‘I don’t think so. We need to gain entry.’
‘We don’t have a warrant to enter and I needn’t remind you it is illegal to enter a property without the owner’s permission, do I?’
‘No, but we have reasonable grounds to believe someone has been placed in danger.’ She shouted at the door. ‘We’re coming in, is that okay?’ There was yet another noise in response.
‘I’ll take that as a yes, then,’ she said, and adopting a kickboxing stance she kicked out with her right leg, the heel of her boot catching the door accurately near the doorframe. It cracked and gave way.
‘Remind me never to get into a fight with you,’ said Ross. ‘Want me to finish it off?’
‘Be my guest,’ she replied and moved away, allowing Ross to bull charge the weakened door and smash it open.
They entered the kitchen and hastened to the sound of the thumping, opening the door to a bedroom. Rachel was lying on the floor on the other side of the door, her hands and feet bound by cable ties, her mouth covered by duct tape. She was exhausted and semi-conscious, blood trickling from her head. Grabbing a knife from the kitchen, Robyn sawed at the ties and released Rachel’s hands.
‘This is going to be sore but only for a minute,’ she advised as she prepared to rip the tape from Rachel’s face. ‘You okay?’
The woman nodded and let out a noise – half howl and half squeal like a frightened pig – as Robyn tugged and pulled it away in one swift movement. Rachel’s lips were dry and cracked.
She
let out a croaky groan and rubbed her tender wrists. Her hands shook with shock. She rasped, ‘Thank you.’
Ross poured her a glass of water and offered it to her. She drank greedily. They lifted her onto the bed and cut her feet free. Ross checked her head wound. It was still bleeding and required attention.
‘I’ll call an ambulance,’ he whispered. Robyn nodded an affirmation then explained to Rachel who they were. ‘Take your time. When you feel ready, tell me what happened.’ Rachel tried to rub some feeling back into her wrists and ankles before attempting to stand. Robyn held onto her.
‘I need to move,’ croaked Rachel. Robyn led the trembling woman into the kitchen and sat her down at a modern round oak table with metal legs that had been crafted to look artistic but instead looked cheap. The kitchen had little on show other than basic necessities. It was pretty barren and Robyn suspected Rachel lacked the finances to make it more homely. She filled the kettle with water and prepared a mug from the mug tree with tea from gaudy canisters purchased at a supermarket. Ross checked out the bedroom, allowing Robyn time with Rachel. It was obvious from the upturned stool and bedside table, and from the state of the bedcovers on the floor, that Rachel had struggled to manoeuvre herself from the bed and onto the floor, then shuffled her body close enough to the door to kick it with her feet to attract attention. She must have been exhausted by her efforts.
With Robyn in the kitchen and a cup of tea in her hands, Rachel regained control of her emotions and spoke. ‘I had just finished giving a neighbour a treatment. I’m learning how to do crystal therapy and healing. She is one of my guinea pigs. I’d packed up my crystals and was getting ready to meet Abigail Thorne. She’s a friend. I was meeting her at five o’clock at the playing fields and I was running late. I have a gift for her – a tiger’s-eye crystal.’ She pointed at a necklace consisting of a cheap metal chain and a beautiful crystal with bands of yellow-gold running through it.
‘It’s a powerful stone that aids harmony and balance, and helps release fear and anxiety.’ Rachel was rambling. Robyn suspected it was to distract her from facing up to what had happened to her. She listened patiently.
‘Traditionally it was carried as an amulet against curses or ill wishing, and is known to give courage, self-confidence and strength of will,’ she continued. ‘I thought it would help Abby. I can tell people and dark forces are draining her. She needs assistance.’ Rachel put a hand against her head and pulled it away quickly, examining the sticky mess of drying blood.
‘It’s okay. I don’t think it’s too serious but you’ll have to get checked out. Ross has already phoned for an ambulance.’
Rachel gave her a dazed look. ‘No thanks. I think I’m okay. I must have hit it when I fell. I’ll go and see the doctor later.’
‘You’ve had a terrible shock and you need to be looked over. Your wrists and feet are in need of treatment too.’
Rachel looked down at her raw ankles, impervious for the moment to the discomfort.
Robyn asked again, ‘Tell me what happened, Rachel. We need to find out who did this to you.’
‘I was getting ready to go out to meet Abby, when I heard someone knocking at my front door. I opened it and a lunatic wearing a mask launched at me. I didn’t have time to scream. They pushed me into this room and punched me in the stomach. It winded me completely. I doubled up with pain. I remember wondering why they were doing this, then I got hit again and I fell on the floor. The person laughed. They actually laughed at me. I was so frightened. I thought they were going to kill me. I kept still and tried not to anger them and thought I’d got away with it while they stomped about the kitchen muttering really quietly. I couldn’t hear what they were saying but it was a woman’s voice. That surprised me. I heard her speak to someone. I’m sure she said “dad” at one point. I strained to hear if there was another person but there didn’t seem to be anyone. Then it dawned on me who the person was. I was about to speak to her but she hit me on my head with something very heavy and I blacked out. When I came to, I was on the bed. I couldn’t move for those ties. They really cut into me when I moved. She had slapped tape all over my mouth as you saw. I didn’t know what to do so I performed my calming exercises and then when I had some energy, I tried kicking the bedside table and door with my feet but no one heard me.’ She licked her lips, her brow creased in concentration.
‘I think someone came to the door, maybe yesterday afternoon. I heard a rapping and I tried to call out but it was hopeless. I kicked the table again and it fell over but the person left. I fell on the floor and kicked the dressing table but nothing happened. No one returned. I got tired and felt so sick. I kept hoping my neighbours downstairs would hear the noise and come and investigate. I tried to stay calm and kept saying my mantra over and over. I got so weak and tired, I dozed off a couple of times and when I woke it was pitch dark so I tried again but nothing. I was beginning to think no one would ever find me. I wished Abigail would wonder why I hadn’t met her and come and see if I was all right.’ She began shaking again. Shock of what had happened was setting in. Robyn hoped the ambulance would turn up soon. The woman looked grey and ill. Being trussed up all evening and night had weakened her. She took a sip of tea, her cracked sore lips making her wince.
When you knocked on the door I tried to get you to hear me. I kicked and kicked at the door. Thank you for rescuing me. I don’t know how long I’d have been left here alone.’
She shivered at the thought.
‘I know you haven’t had a chance to look but do you think they’ve stolen anything?’ said Robyn.
Rachel barked a laugh. ‘There’s nothing of value to take inside. I rent the place and it came with the furniture, such as it is. It’s certainly seen better days. I only own some clothes, books, my iPod, which is in there on the table, and some personal stuff that wouldn’t interest anyone. There’s nothing to steal. I haven’t even got a decent television.’ She looked about the kitchen and shook her head. ‘Can’t see that anything is out of place. I only have five pounds in my purse. I doubt they robbed me for that. I’m still waiting for my divorce settlement and then I’m getting out of here. It’s miserable. It’s like being a student in digs all over again.’
She stood on shaky legs and, clinging to the table, made tentative steps to the kitchen window. She looked outside and breathed deeply, eyes closed. ‘My car has gone. She stole my car. The utter bitch.’ She turned slowly.
‘I’m certain I know who attacked me. There were several giveaways but it was the shoes. I recognised the shoes. I’d seen them before quite recently. They were Ted Baker purple floral-print trainers. Unusual and expensive. The last time I saw a pair like that was in the café in town. Claire Lewis owns a pair. My attacker was a so-called friend. She is responsible for this.’
‘We believe Claire Lewis is in Scotland. It can’t have been her.’
Rachel shook her head vehemently. ‘It was definitely Claire Lewis. I know it was. Her mask slipped when she kicked me with those shoes. I caught a glimpse of her face. Without doubt it was Claire Lewis.’
Robyn threw a look at Ross who stood propped against the kitchen counter.
Rachel was an observant woman. She might have seen or heard more than she realised.
‘Can I ask you to try and think if there is anything you might have missed? Did she say anything to you while you were half conscious? Were there any other unusual noises?’
There was a silence during which Rachel shook her head from side to side in anxiety then suddenly opened her eyes wide. ‘This might not be relevant,’ she said, ‘but I think I heard a baby crying when I was on the floor. I was incredibly scared and dazed, but the more I think about it, the more I’m sure I heard a child crying outside. There are no children here in the flats. It’s only couples and elderly folk.’
Ross spotted an ambulance arriving and excused himself.
Rachel looked at Robyn with earnest eyes. ‘Believe me, please. I am certain Claire Lewis attacked me and for s
ome reason had a child with her.’
‘I’ll run a check on your car and see if we can locate it. I’ll make sure to let you know. Now, the ambulance crew is going to look after you. If you think of anything else at all, call me.’
Rachel reached into a pot of crystals and handed one to Robyn. ‘Thank you for saving me. Take this. It’s a chrysoprase crystal, an empowering crystal that helps to soothe emotional wounds and strengthen the heart. This crystal will not only help you to combat heartbreak, but it is also great for breaking up any negativity, and bringing hope into difficult situations. Chrysoprase is described as a good friend helping you through experiences of loss.’
Robyn didn’t know how to respond. How could the woman have any idea she had lost someone close? Rachel answered her unspoken question.
‘I see auras. Your astral aura is misshapen and scarred. It is green, the colour linked to the heart, so I know you are suffering a loss, a bereavement or a break-up. Take the crystal. It will help you.’
Dumbfounded, Robyn took the crystal.
‘Her aura is a murky yellow, blended with murky green, and it indicates resentment and jealousy. Claire Lewis is not a nice person. I hope you find her before she does something really dreadful.’
65
Now
Old hippy Rachel looked like she was going to have a heart attack when she opened her door and saw me waiting with my mask on. Her face went a funny colour of puce and she looked like she was going to scream so I walloped her hard in the solar plexus and she went down like a sack of potatoes.
I dragged her into the kitchen to start with, thinking I might handcuff her to a radiator or somewhere but it was virtually empty of furniture or anything suitable to keep her restrained. I wonder if she’s into that feng shui. There was only a weird table with metal legs and a few stools around it. I picked a stool up but it was feather light, so no good for my purpose.
