The air felt fresh this morning, and the only clouds that remained in the bright blue sky were thin and white, offering little threat of the downpour they’d experienced yesterday. The surrounding countryside was now firmly in autumn’s grip and winter was only just around the corner. Piles of wet leaves lined the edge of every kerb, and the puddles on the road had yet to evaporate under the bright sun. A cool breeze offset any warmth of the sun’s rays.
His phone beeped to inform him of a new message.
Are we still on for tonight? I miss you x
Why had he brought this additional complication into his life? Didn’t he have enough on his plate already balancing an intensive job, a wife, and child? His guilt exploded once again as he pictured Carol-Anne; maybe if he hadn’t started the affair she would still be here. Had his behaviour indirectly led to Alex’s momentary lapse of concentration yesterday? Was this karma’s way of getting back at him?
He deleted the message without responding, telling himself that cooling things would be the right thing to do, at least until Carol-Anne was safely returned. After that, he would need to sit down with Alex and resolve their future once and for all.
He didn’t recognize the small red car parked on the driveway, but as he remained on the doorstep finishing his cigarette, he couldn’t help wondering who would choose such a vibrant colour. Stamping out the cigarette, he popped two pieces of gum into his mouth, dropping the now empty juice bottle in the recycle bin.
Opening the door, he wasn’t prepared for the sound of chattering coming from the kitchen. Poking his head around the door, he caught sight of Alex with a grey-haired woman in a matching cardigan, who had police written all over her face.
Alex rushed over to him, throwing her arms around his neck. ‘Thank God you’re home.’ She peeled away and fixed him with a stare. ‘I heard Carol-Anne giggling upstairs.’
He frowned sceptically. Of all the things he’d thought she might say, this hadn’t been one of them. He’d expected admonishment for staying out all night and for stinking of cigarettes, though neither of these things seemed to be bothering her.
‘DS Granger,’ the grey woman said, extending her hand. ‘I’m Isla Murphy. DI Trent assigned me as your Family Liaison.’
Ray shook the hand, still not able to comprehend the mixed look of excitement and horror on Alex’s face. ‘Please, call me Ray. What’s going on here?’
‘I heard her, Ray,’ Alex blurted. ‘I heard Carol-Anne’s voice in her room. I swear it!’
He raised an eyebrow at Isla.
‘Your wife believes she heard the sound of a child laughing upstairs,’ Isla confirmed.
‘Giggling,’ Alex corrected. ‘Just like Carol-Anne. I swear it was her, Ray.’
‘As I explained to your wife, it was probably a by-product of the stress she’s been under.’
‘I didn’t imagine it,’ Alex said, glaring.
‘With respect, Alex, we’ve both searched the room and there is no sign of Carol-Anne up there.’
‘I heard her,’ Alex repeated, annoyed at the exchanged glances between Isla and Ray.
Gripping her arms, Ray held Alex firmly. ‘What exactly did you hear?’ he said, his frown still heavy.
Alex took a deep breath to compose her out-of-control emotions. ‘Just now. I was upstairs in her room, and I swear to you I heard her voice, as clear as I’m speaking to you. I was standing at the foot of her bed, looking at the photographs of her on the wall when I heard it. It was like she was actually in the bed. I’m not making this up, Ray.’
He blinked several times, his detective’s mind trying to connect dots that couldn’t be there. He had to accept that one of two truths were real: either somebody had abducted Carol-Anne as Alex had claimed, or his wife really had snapped.
He’d been home and searched for Carol-Anne and she hadn’t been anywhere in the house. He froze. In the panic of rushing home from the scene yesterday afternoon he’d checked all the obvious places – the bedrooms, living room, kitchen and bathroom – but he hadn’t torn the place apart.
His heart bursting with hope, he pulled himself away from Alex and raced up the stairs, turning at the top and diving into Carol-Anne’s bedroom, stopping in the middle of the room and straining to hear anything. His heart skipped a beat as he momentarily saw Carol-Anne snuggled under her thin duvet, before his mind snapped back to focus, and he realized the bed was empty.
Alex burst into the room right behind him. ‘I was just here,’ she began, before he lifted a hand to silence her.
It was almost impossible to hear anything above the sound of his rapidly beating heart. Dropping to his knees, he searched the carpet for any kind of audio device that could have been inadvertently triggered, or a toy with the capability of making a noise like laughter, but all he found was a box of books and clothes his sister had donated to them that had belonged to her own daughter. Certainly nothing obvious that could have been mistaken for a child’s giggle. He then lifted each of the stuffed toys from around the edge of Carol-Anne’s bed; none of them made a noise as he squeezed their middles and limbs.
Climbing back to his feet he went through each of the drawers in the chest, and finally the soft bag of baby toys Alex had packed up to donate to charity. Although this bag did make a variety of noises as he lifted it, none came close to the sound Alex had described. And that’s when his eyes fell on the small open window behind the partly drawn curtains. Moving across to the window, he was about to close it when the noise of two chattering children in school uniforms stopped him.
Reaching for Alex’s hand he pulled her towards the window and pointed at the two girls in the street. ‘That’s probably all it was: kids on their way to the bus stop.’
Alex pulled her hand free of his. ‘You think I misheard? It was Carol-Anne,’ she repeated through gritted teeth.
Ray shook his head sceptically. ‘I know you want to believe that, but how could it be? We’ve all checked and she’s not in her room. Some bastard has taken her, and what you heard was your body’s way of telling you that you’re missing her. I’m sorry, Alex.’
She stormed from the room, and stomped down the stairs. Ray remained where he was, taking a final glance back around the room, disappointed that he’d allowed Alex’s imagination to let him believe that Carol-Anne was hiding somewhere in the property. To be safe he moved out to the landing, pulled down the loft ladder and, using the torch on his phone, he scoured the floor space, searching behind dusty boxes of Christmas decorations and old photograph albums. He found nothing more than silence and cobwebs.
Closing the hatch he headed back downstairs, his heart heavy at the prospect of Alex’s previous psychological issues returning en masse. Finding Isla alone in the kitchen, he nodded when she offered to put the kettle on.
‘Trent says you’re one of the best FLOs she’s worked with,’ he said to finally break the silence.
‘That’s very kind of her. She’s one of the better SIOs I’ve come across,’ Isla smiled back. ‘You couldn’t have asked for someone better to be in charge of your case.’
‘Trent said you were dialling into the morning brief; anything to share with us?’
‘It was a standard primary briefing, leads they’re going to pursue and that kind of thing. She did also say she wants your permission to appeal to the public.’
‘What did Alex say?’
‘She gave the go-ahead.’
‘Did you tell her to delete her Facebook account?’
‘I did. Standard procedure in these circumstances. You should do the same.’
He grunted. ‘I don’t have time for all that sort of thing. My digital footprint is as clean as they come.’
Isla looked as though she wanted to say something else and was holding back.
‘Spit it out, whatever it is,’ he finally said.
Closing the door, she leaned in closer, her voice barely more than a whisper. ‘You’re not going to be trouble for me, are you?’
His c
heeks reddened at the implication.
‘DI Trent warned me that you aren’t likely to sit quietly and wait for my updates, and she has asked me to remind you that you are not authorized to be directly involved with this investigation. Any contact with her or the rest of your team is to be social only, and kept to a minimum. In this morning’s brief she warned everyone not to engage with you on matters pertaining to the investigation.’ She sighed. ‘Listen, I know better than anyone how hard it is to leave others to the job, but that’s precisely what you need to do. Is that clear?’
Ray didn’t answer, instead heading out of the room and stepping outside before he said something he knew he would regret.
13
Alex was by the back door, staring out at the patio and small muddy lawn beyond it. ‘He thinks I’m losing my mind.’
Isla was standing in the doorway, holding a tray with two mugs. ‘It may seem like that, but this can’t be easy for him either. No matter how many families I support I find each is different, and one partner’s reaction is rarely the same as the other’s. Both of you are terrified about what might have happened to Carol-Anne and feel helpless to prevent the unfolding drama. How you deal with those elements is bound to be different. In these situations it’s always best to be extra patient with each other; it serves nobody well to allow your frustration to boil over.’
Isla raised a tablet from the tray and passed it to Alex. ‘This is the statement DI Trent’s team have prepared. She needs you to review it and give the green light.’
Alex read the first paragraph three times, before rubbing her eyes. ‘I’m sorry,’ she mumbled, ‘I’m reading the words but they just aren’t going in.’
Isla lowered the tray to the table. ‘Why don’t I leave you to read it alone for a few minutes? Give you some space. If you have any questions, I’ll do my best to answer them when I return.’
Resting the tablet on her lap, Alex sat on the sofa and began to read the first paragraph again. It seemed fairly straightforward, explaining that Carol-Anne was a two-year-old who was snatched from a car park around 3 p.m., and that they were looking for witnesses who may have seen something.
It felt like she was reading about some other family’s misfortune, even though each word was like another nail in her own coffin.
The sound of the front door closing was followed by the sound of Ray’s footsteps thundering up the stairs. She hated the tension that had been hanging in the air between them these last few months, even before the shock of yesterday.
They hadn’t been intimate since they’d learned of the miscarriage, apart from that one drunken fumble in the dark on his birthday. At first she’d thought he was being patient and understanding, allowing her body to recover; however, on the two subsequent occasions she’d tried to instigate foreplay, he’d made up excuses for not wanting to. He was tired, or had an early alarm call and just needed to sleep. There was only so much rejection she was able to handle.
There were other signs, too, like growing the goatee beard. He’d always kept his face clean-shaven, and then all of a sudden he’d bought a new trimmer and just started growing it. And it wasn’t until she asked why he suddenly had a moustache that he admitted what he was doing, like it was none of her business. And then he’d started playing squash or going to the gym to swim a couple of times a week. In itself it wouldn’t have been a problem, as it was important for them to have sociable interests outside of the marriage, but who splashes on cologne to go and hit a ball against a wall?
Even so, she had no evidence that he was seeing anyone else. He kept his phone on him at all times in case the office needed to call him in urgently, and if she’d asked to see it he would know she was on to him and he would most likely deny it. He didn’t have many female friends that she knew about – her gut told her the woman was probably somebody he worked with. Maybe that DI Trent, or someone else in his team. He didn’t tend to talk to Alex about his job, claiming she wouldn’t want to know about half the things he saw on a daily basis.
She still loved him though, and deep down she knew she always would even if he had betrayed their marriage vows, because without him she never would have had Carol-Anne. The now familiar sting of tears threatened to break free, and she took a couple of breaths and looked away from the screen until they cleared.
‘How are you getting on?’ Isla asked, coming in to the room.
Alex still couldn’t say for certain whether she approved of the statement, and handed the tablet back. ‘It’s fine,’ she said. After all, they were the professionals who were used to preparing such formal statements. ‘When will it be on the news?’
‘Tonight, I believe. I’ll check with DI Trent when I let her know you’ve given your consent.’ She locked the tablet and was about to leave when she remembered something else. ‘Have you suspended your social media accounts? As I said earlier, it’s best if you put a temporary freeze on them. People can be quite cruel.’
Alex pulled out her phone and nodded. ‘I’ll do it now.’ She’d barely had the app open for a minute when she suddenly gasped, and felt her eyes water instantly. In her hands the photograph of the ultrasound she’d uploaded three years earlier stared back at her as a memory, the app asking if she wished to re-share the post.
The blur of light and dark, blobs that clearly represented her baby’s head, body, arms and legs, made it look almost as though Carol-Anne had been waving at them. She’d never felt as excited as she had the day she’d seen the images on the screen of the ultrasound machine. Ray had been speechless, and in that moment everything had felt so perfect and life-affirming. It was the start of their family life together.
The longing and ache in her heart now felt so intense. What she would give to go back to that day of the ultrasound and just warn herself never to take her daughter or husband for granted, to never allow them out of her sight.
Isla appeared behind her, staring down at the phone. Rather than offering words of understanding, she simply put an arm around Alex’s shoulders.
Alex couldn’t speak, desperate to hold back the growing storm. She didn’t want to cave in to her emotions. Not again. She had to stay strong. Taking a deep breath, she held it for a moment, before exhaling, and then repeated the process.
Ray appeared in the doorway, clearing his throat. ‘I’m going out. Work. Call me if there’s any news.’
He was wearing a fresh – albeit creased – shirt, and the cloud of antiperspirant spray he’d applied seemed to hover around him. Alex could barely look at him. How could he think about working at a time like this?
‘When will you be back?’
He shrugged. ‘I’ll message you.’
And without offering her a hug or a kiss, he turned and headed for the front door, leaving Alex alone with a woman she’d known for only a few hours.
14
It was just after nine, and the street was finally quiet. Taking a last drag on his cigarette, Ray brushed the ash against the brickwork.
A squad car pulled up at the bottom of the driveway, and he spotted DS Jodie Crichton behind the wheel. Incredibly, she was two years younger than Alex, her fresh face reflecting her relative inexperience. She was part of the new breed of detectives. No longer was it a requirement for all new recruits to undertake a minimum of two years on the beat before applying for the Detective-in-Training Course. For graduates like Jodie Crichton, the career path was more streamlined. She would go far, he had no doubt, but for Ray an analytical mind wasn’t the same as honing skills with experience. He knew he was fighting a losing battle, though. The force had changed a lot since he’d first joined; it was more progressive than ever and Jodie fitted the mould they were evolving.
He knew little about her background, and wasn’t sure they would have many shared interests that didn’t revolve around the job. She hadn’t been in the department long enough for them to have worked closely together on a case, yet he’d heard the rumours about her brownnosing up to Trent and the chief super. He was all
for ambition and admired detectives who were keen to progress swiftly along the career ladder; however, she needed to understand that teamwork was still a vital part of detection.
Jodie offered a non-confrontational smile as he climbed into the passenger seat. ‘I really appreciate you offering to support my case. I’d understand if you’d rather not work. With everything you’ve got going on—’
‘Let’s just get out of here,’ he said as he spotted the net curtains twitching in the front window of the house.
‘Sure,’ she said, smiling thinly, the concern on her face all too apparent. ‘A bookies got done over late last night, and the MO is a match for the Friday raid on the post office.’ She squinted against the embers of sunlight peeking around the visor. ‘Listen, Ray, I know it’s none of my business, but if you feel like talking about what you’re going through, I don’t mind lending an ear.’
He didn’t want to talk about his feelings of fear and despair, nor about how he felt impotent to protect and save Carol-Anne. Pushing thoughts of her from his mind, he said, ‘Just drive.’
The pavement outside the bookies was coned off and littered with fragments of glass from where the pane in the front door had shattered when one of the robbers had fired a shotgun at it. SOCOs hadn’t yet managed to locate the shell casing, suggesting the robbers had potentially taken it with them. Again, it underlined the professional nature of the crew: a single shot fired to show they meant business; nothing left to tie back to them.
Little Girl Gone Page 7
