The Vanishing Point

by Val McDermid

‘You’ll have to talk to him about access to Jimmy,’ I said.

  ‘That’s what lawyers are for,’ she said. ‘He’s been no kind of father to Jimmy while he’s been under the same roof. He can see his son, but he’s not having no fifty-fifty deal. Nor nothing like.’

  A few traffic lights went by. ‘He’ll try and screw you on the money too.’

  ‘Let him try. My accountant’s got most of my assets where he can’t get his hands on them. Plus we did a pre-nup. He keeps what’s his and I won’t come after him for maintenance.’ She shook her head. ‘I can’t believe he did that to me. Toffany fucking Banks. That’s really insulting, you know that? She hasn’t got the brains God gave a goldfish. She makes me look like Jeremy bloody Paxman.’ Then her face crumpled and she began to cry. Great howling sobs and shuddering moans ripped through her, filling the car with terrible noise.

  I didn’t know what to do so I just kept driving. After a few minutes, Scarlett began to run out of steam. Her face was a mess of tears and snot. She rubbed her eyes with her fists and sniffed, then wiped her nose with the back of her hand. ‘That’s it,’ she said. ‘That’s all the bastard gets from me.’

  It was a wildly over-optimistic assertion, but I suspect it made her feel a bit better in the moment. Over the months that followed, Scarlett shed plenty of tears for Joshu. In spite of everything, she had loved him and it had cut the ground from under her feet to be so thoroughly betrayed by him. But that night she was determined to hold firm.

  ‘Will you stop with us for a few days?’ she said. ‘He’ll be round, he won’t take it lying down. And then there’ll be the media. I could do with a bit of back-up.’

  I couldn’t refuse her. In Scarlett’s shoes, I’d have wanted one of my mates in my corner. I didn’t realise that supporting her would put me just there. In her shoes.

  21

  We didn’t have long to wait. Joshu turned up shouting the odds about an hour after we got back to the hacienda. He had to shout because Scarlett had changed the access code on the electric gate and turned off the intercom. We were sitting in the kitchen drinking tea, too wired for bed, when we heard the van draw up. ‘Here comes trouble,’ Leanne said.

  The sound of the van’s horn blasted through the dawn. ‘Neighbours won’t like that,’ Scarlett said. She sniffed. ‘Fuck ’em if they can’t take a joke.’

  ‘I think you should talk to him,’ I said. ‘Even if it’s just to tell him you’re done.’

  Scarlett gazed out of the window at the garden with a hundred-yard stare. ‘I really can’t be arsed,’ she said. But she slid off her stool and headed for the door. She turned and summoned us with a jerk of the head. ‘Come on. I need witnesses. So I don’t cave in at the sight of his pretty face.’

  Leanne and I exchanged glances. She looked about as thrilled as I felt. Getting between a warring couple is never a good place to be. I had a feeling this was going to be like a Michael Douglas and Kathleen Turner film, but without the laughs. So we followed along, Leanne automatically twisting her hair into a ponytail and shoving it through the back of a baseball cap. A minimal disguise, but it had proved effective enough.

  At first glance, the scene was mildly laughable. Whoever Joshu had talked into driving him out here had parked the nose of the van bang up against the gates and Joshu had clambered on to the sloping bonnet. He was leaning on the gate, his wrists between the metal spikes that adorned its top edge. ‘About time, bitch,’ he shouted, weaving slightly from side to side. He sounded stoned. Probably because he was. True to form, he’d been drinking and ingesting assorted substances for hours. The only positive aspect of the whole scenario was that it was the middle of the night and the long-lens jackals were all in their lairs, asleep.

  ‘You think that’s the way to sort this out?’ she yelled back at him. ‘Coming round here off your tits and calling me names?’

  ‘What the fuck is this all about?’ he demanded, all injured innocence.

  ‘It’s about you sticking your dick where it doesn’t belong. I’m through with it. I thought becoming a dad had changed your ways, but that’s not what I’m hearing. You dirty bastard. Shagging that cow Toffany then coming home to me? Now I’m going to have to get tested for every bloody sexually transmitted lurgy under the sun. You are a complete and utter prick.’

  Joshu kept trying to get a word in, but it wasn’t happening. Scarlett was off and running and she wasn’t giving him a chance to change her mind. ‘I packed up your stuff and now you can sling your hook. I’m not having you back here – I want a divorce. I want nothing to do with your skanky arse ever again.’

  ‘You can’t do this,’ he finally howled when she paused for breath.

  ‘I already have, dickhead.’

  They glared at each other. ‘It’s a lie, what Toffany said,’ he tried.

  ‘You are pitiful,’ Scarlett countered. ‘You think I’m going to fall for the oldest line in the book? You think I’m stupid?’

  ‘You can’t throw me out. What about the boy? I’m his dad.’

  ‘His dad? You can barely bring yourself to call him by his name because you didn’t get to choose it. You think I haven’t noticed how he’s always, “my boy” or “the kid” or “junior”? His name’s Jimmy, dickhead. And he won’t even notice you’ve gone. He misses Steph if she’s not around for a few days. Or Leanne. But he doesn’t ever miss you.’

  ‘Oh yeah, he misses Steph.’ His lip curled in a sneer, his voice mocking her. ‘Your fucking lezza girlfriend Steph.’

  My mouth fell open. It did. Literally. I couldn’t have been more taken aback.

  Scarlett roared with laughter. ‘You are so pathetic and so predictable. You’re all the bloody same. The only possible reason there could be for us not fancying a he-man like you is that we’re big old lezzas. That’s what you have to tell yourself, because you can’t face the truth. Well, here’s the truth, little big man. I don’t fancy you because you’re always drunk, or fucked up on drugs, or you stink of sweat and fags. It’s because you’re disgusting that I don’t fancy you, not because you’re a man. It’s because you’re not enough of a man, as it happens.’

  His eyes widened in hurt. She’d got through his addled state and scored a bull’s eye on his self-esteem. ‘But I love you,’ he said, his pitch cracking like a teenage boy.

  ‘And I don’t love you.’ Scarlett spoke in a low, choked voice. ‘You killed it, Joshu. You killed it.’

  ‘You can’t do this, Scarlett.’ Now his eyes were wet. I almost felt sorry for him, then I remembered how much I disliked him.

  ‘I have to. Being with you, it’s one big recipe for misery. And I won’t put Jimmy through that. He’s better without a dad than stuck with a deadbeat like you.’

  He gripped the top of the gate. ‘You bitch. You think you can lay down the law to me? You’ve got another think coming.’ It was striking how, under stress, the affectation of street speak had fallen away, leaving Joshu sounding exactly what he was – a well-educated middle-class lad.

  ‘You don’t scare me, Joshu. I’m not the same woman who fell in love with you.’

  Now it was his turn for scorn. ‘Listen to you. You’ve got no idea. You need to remember who knows your secrets. How do you think your precious fans will like it when they find out you’ve been taking them for a ride this past year? You and your airhead cousin – you won’t last five minutes when I tell my story.’

  From where I was standing, I could see Scarlett stiffen. For a moment, I thought he’d trumped her ace. But yet again, I’d misjudged her. She took a couple of steps closer to the gate and tipped her head back to look Joshu in the face. ‘You think? It’s me the public loves, not you. They’ll totally get that I had to deal with your scumbag behaviour. You’ll be the one who gets savaged for being a pig. And don’t forget, your hands are as dirty as mine. You’re the one who’s been touting Leanne all round town as your missus. Either you were in on the whole thing, in which case you’re as bad as me. Or you’re too fucking dim to
know the woman you’re out on the razz with isn’t your wife. So don’t you dare threaten me, you worthless piece of shit.’

  He tried to launch himself at her over the gate. But the sloping bonnet of the Transit was too much for him and he slid out of sight, swearing. There was a clatter and a crash and a yelp then more swearing. ‘I’m not done with you, bitch,’ he yelled from the other side of the gate. The van door slammed, the engine raced and the tyres screamed on the road. Within seconds, the usual early morning sounds of birdsong and the distant hum of traffic were the only soundtrack.

  Scarlett kicked out savagely at the gate. ‘Bastard,’ she spat. She turned back to face us and gave a crooked smile. ‘First blood to the bimbo, I think.’

  First blood, but not the last.

  22

  The first thing Detective Sergeant Nick Nicolaides did when he got to his car was to make a list. He liked lists. They almost made him believe the world was tractable.

  Talk to Charlie

  Track down Pete Matthews

  Check whether Megan the Stalker is still under lock and key

  Double check Scarlett’s mum and sister are where they should be

  Is Leanne still in Spain? Ask Steph about her relationship with Jimmy

  Check out Joshu’s family

  The first item on the list was the one he didn’t want to do from the office. Dr Charlie Flint was a psychiatrist and former offender profiler who had only recently been reinstated after a controversial suspension. The whole process had turned Charlie into a pariah as far as the police were concerned. Which was why he didn’t want to make the call where Broad bent could overhear it. But Nick and Charlie went back a long way. Back when he’d been studying psychology at university and running a lucrative drug-dealing business on the side, Charlie had stepped in and given him a harsh ultimatum. Stop it or she would shop him to the police. Her intervention had saved Nick from his adolescent arrogance and he knew he owed this life he loved to her. ‘It’s not that I liked you,’ she had later told him. ‘I just hated to see a good mind wasted.’

  She’d been teasing him, of course. In spite of – or perhaps because of – his complicated past, they’d become friends. Not that he was short of friends. Few of them were cops, but there were plenty of musicians, both professional and amateur. But Charlie was the only person in his circle these days who knew how close he’d come to a very different life from the one he lived now. When things got tough, it made a difference to have someone completely trustworthy in his corner. And this was exactly the kind of case where Charlie might have useful insights.

  As he summoned her number and waited for it to connect, he admitted to himself that he might not have bothered Charlie if this had been a routine case. He was fired up about this because the person sitting in the FBI office freaking out about little Jimmy Higgins was Stephanie.

  It had been a couple of years since they’d first met, and he’d been attracted from the beginning. But there hadn’t been any opportunity to make something of it. Besides, he’d always felt awkward about the idea of mixing business and pleasure. His wasn’t a line of work where your first encounters generally provoked happy memories. Cops were there for the bad things in life, and that wasn’t likely to get a relationship off on the right foot. The power balance was all wrong, for starters. He wanted a relationship based on equality, not on him as hero, her as vulnerable damsel in distress.

  Then she’d called him out of the blue. Admittedly for professional reasons. But she could have picked up the phone and spoken to her local CID. That she’d considered him a sympathetic figure definitely buffed his ego. And once the matter had been sorted out, he’d dropped by and made it delicately clear that he’d like to see her when she felt up to having a date. Because there was no getting away from the way she made him feel. In spite of his determination to stay away from women with complicated lives, he couldn’t resist Stephanie.

  They’d taken it easy to begin with. They’d gone to lunch, seen a movie, had dinner three times and taken Jimmy to the Tower of London. They’d talked on the phone late at night, they’d used the message channels on Facebook and Twitter. And it had been a couple of months before they slept together, which these days felt unusual. It hadn’t been lack of desire, at least not on Nick’s part. It was hard for him to articulate precisely what it was, but he thought it had something to do with the fact that this felt serious. And something to do with the kid. You didn’t take chances when a kid was part of the picture.

  Charlie answered her phone on the second ring. ‘Hi, Nick. What a nice surprise. How’s tricks?’

  ‘Been better, Charlie. What about you? Is this a good time?’

  ‘Sure. Maria’s doing something sensational in the kitchen so I’ve got nothing to occupy me but this glass of wine. What’s bothering you?’

  ‘I told you about Stephanie, right?’

  ‘When we had breakfast in that lovely little café in Paddington, yes. Has something gone wrong?’

  Even across the distance from Manchester to London there was no mistaking the concern in Charlie’s voice. ‘Yes, but not between me and her,’ he said. ‘It’s much worse than that, Charlie. And I need your help.’

  ‘Anything I can do. You know that.’

  ‘The boy’s been kidnapped. Jimmy, Scarlett Higgins’ son. Stephanie took him on holiday to the US and he was snatched when they were changing planes.’

  Charlie drew her breath in sharply. ‘Over there? He was kidnapped over there?’

  ‘Yes. The FBI are talking to Stephanie. Taking a history. They’ve drafted me in to help develop leads. But there’s bugger all to grab on to, Charlie.’

  ‘Which of course is why you’re talking to me,’ she said wryly. ‘And that’s as it should be, Nick. Why don’t you take me through everything you know about the abduction?’

  So he did, wondering not for the first time what it was about Charlie that made the act of confiding in her a relief in itself. Nick concentrated on recalling everything Vivian McKuras had said and relaying it to Charlie without putting his own spin on it. When he’d finished, she grunted. ‘Interesting.’

  ‘Well, yeah. I knew that already, Charlie,’ Nick grumbled.

  ‘I’m just buying time, Nick. Just buying time.’

  ‘Do you want to call me back when you’ve had time to think it through?’

  ‘One or two thoughts for now. First and foremost, Jimmy knew the person he walked away with. The kidnapper didn’t have time to talk Jimmy into leaving with him. Even with figures of authority like cops, kids of that age will show reluctance or opposition. The overwhelming probability is that it would have been somebody he already knew.’

  ‘Shit,’ Nick said. ‘So we really should be looking on this side of the Atlantic. At people who know Jimmy and Stephanie.’

  Charlie spoke slowly, considering her words. ‘It’s interesting that Stephanie didn’t recognise him. If it was someone she knew well, she might have recognised his build, his gait, his gestures, whether she saw his face or not. So maybe not someone she knows.’

  ‘They’d have to know something about Stephanie, though. They’d have to know about her leg always setting off the metal detectors. And their holiday plans.’

  ‘That’s true. But whoever took Jimmy, he’s had friendly contact with him and probably recently. The boy’s at school now, isn’t he? You might want to check out classroom assistants, teachers, caretakers. Anyone who could have built a relationship of trust with Jimmy.’

  Nick scribbled a note to remind himself of the line of inquiry. ‘But if it’s someone like that, why wait till the kid’s in America? Why not do it over here, where it would presumably be easier? This was an audacious kidnap, Charlie. A lot could have gone wrong.’

  ‘I know. That was my other point. Whoever did this has got planning skills and a lot of nerve. But to go back to what you said – why America? It’s a good question.’ She gave a short, sharp sigh. ‘I don’t know the answer, but maybe it’s something quit
e simple. The kidnapper might only be acting as an agent for the person who really wants Jimmy. And maybe that person is in America.’

  As usual, talking to Charlie opened all sorts of possibilities. ‘So I should start with anyone who could have got alongside Jimmy recently?’

  ‘Either that or someone who has a long-standing relationship with the kid. Family?’

  ‘I don’t think there are connections there. Not from what Stephanie’s said. Both parents are dead. His paternal grandparents want nothing to do with him, though I need to check out whether that’s still the case. Cultural sensitivities and shit, you know?’

  ‘That can be a bitch,’ Charlie said. ‘And not very susceptible to reason. What about his mother’s family?’

  ‘Scarlett made a fetish of not letting them have anything to do with Jimmy. Granny’s a drunk and auntie’s a junkie. According to Stephanie, they got lawyered up when Scarlett died because they thought there was money attached to Jimmy. As soon as they found out Scarlett had left her entire estate to charity and that Jimmy was, in financial terms, nothing but a burden, you couldn’t see them for dust. They haven’t got the financial or the intellectual resources to mount something like this, even if they wanted the kid. There’s another auntie, Leanne, but she lives in Spain and Stephanie’s not seen her or heard from her since Scarlett died. She’s made no attempt to stay in touch with the kid.’

  ‘So you’re ruling out the mother’s family. And the father’s family are long shots. What about staff?’

  ‘What do you mean, “staff”? Stephanie doesn’t have staff. She’s a writer, not a movie star.’ Nick couldn’t help a spurt of amusement rising in him in spite of the situation.

  ‘I know it sounds mad, but I don’t have another word for what I mean. Cleaner. Childminder. Little man who does stuff. People who come to the house or people whose house Jimmy goes to.’

  Nick made another note. ‘He doesn’t have a childminder. Stephanie picks him up from school. She’s changed her working habits to accommodate him. She says he’s had so much upheaval in his life, he deserves some stability. Now when she’s doing the interviews for a book she only makes herself available from ten till two.’ He smiled in affectionate memory. ‘She says she wishes she’d thought of it years ago.’