Lost Child: A Gripping Psychological Thriller

by D. S. Butler

  “It’s good timing really,” Phil said as I heard the door shut. “Beth just turned up.”

  “Beth?”

  “Yes. Beth. Beth Farrow.”

  “What’s she doing here?”

  “Looking for Jenna. You should go upstairs and talk to her. Apparently, she thinks I could be hiding Jenna because she looked like Isabel. She’s checking the bedrooms as we speak.”

  I heard Luke curse swiftly followed by the sound of his footsteps as he began to climb the stairs.

  I froze. There was no way out. I’d been caught red-handed.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  I winced at the expression on Luke’s face. The mixture of fury and disappointment made me feel even worse.

  “I’m sorry. I just had to make sure.”

  “Don’t you think he’s been through enough,” Luke said in a low, dangerous voice, barely above a whisper. “How could you, Beth?”

  I didn’t have an answer for that question. Luke was right. My actions today had been completely selfish. Even though I was aware my turning up on Phil’s doorstep would upset him, I hadn’t been able to stop myself. A compulsion drove me to follow every clue that could lead me to Jenna no matter who I hurt along the way.

  “Did you know I’d be here?” I wondered if I’d been that obvious. Maybe my motives were more transparent than I’d thought.

  Luke shot me a scornful look. “After you expressed such concern for Phil, I thought I’d better check on him and try to persuade him to come out for a beer and a chat tonight. I had no idea you were here.”

  I followed Luke down the stairs, and Phil met us at the bottom.

  “Did you drive?” Phil asked.

  Luke nodded.

  “Good, maybe you should take Beth home.” Phil turned to look at me. “I take it you’re satisfied with your search?”

  “Well, I didn’t look in the loft. Have you had it converted?”

  “Jesus Christ, Beth!”

  Luke practically growled behind me. He took hold of my forearm, opened the front door and pulled me out of the house. “That’s enough. Get a grip.”

  I stood on the cracked pavement and watched miserably as Luke said goodbye to his brother. My gaze drifted up towards the Velux window in the roof. There was probably quite a good size room up there.

  Phil noticed me staring. “It’s just storage space. I don’t even have a ladder indoors.”

  “I’m sorry,” I started to say, but Phil turned around and shut the door on me .

  “Come on,” Luke said as he strode ahead. “I’ll take you home.”

  I had to walk quickly to catch up with him. He’d parked his car, a grey Volvo estate, around the corner.

  Luke’s hands gripped the steering wheel tightly as he drove out of London. The traffic was still busy. I said nothing for the first fifteen minutes of the journey, wanting to give Luke time to calm down. He had every right to be angry, and I knew him well enough to know he needed time to think before he would consider my point of view. Even so, it took a lot of effort to keep my mouth shut and not beg for his forgiveness.

  After fifteen minutes, he reached over and turned the radio on. He kept the music low, but it was better than enduring the weight of silence that had been hanging over us.

  “Why didn’t you tell me you were thinking of going to visit Phil?” he asked once we were on the motorway.

  “Because you would have tried to stop me,” I said honestly.

  He huffed under his breath. “Yes, I would because it was a crazy thing to do.”

  “You won’t mention this to Mum, will you?” I felt like a teenager asking someone not to tell tales to my mother.

  But it wasn’t because I wanted to stay out of trouble. I wasn’t worried about my own skin this time, not like ten years ago when I’d had to persuade Luke to cover for me because I’d been given an after-school detention due to smoking behind the sports hall.

  “I’m not sure,” Luke said.

  I straightened and turned towards him. What did he mean? I’d never seriously considered the possibility of Luke ratting on me.

  “She worries about me,” I snapped. “She doesn’t need more on her plate at the moment, Luke.”

  “Then you should have thought about that before you did something so stupid.” His gaze shifted to meet mine briefly before he focused back on the road and slowed the car to a crawl behind a red Fiesta.

  “You can’t do things like this, Beth,” he said quietly, staring straight ahead. “This is how it happened last time.”

  I swallowed hard, not trusting myself to answer. It hurt to hear those words, mostly because I knew they were true. It was reckless and stupid to rush off to London based on a far-fetched theory, but I couldn’t seem to stop myself. The what if question played at the back of my mind, taunting and tempting me until I couldn’t resist and had to take a chance just in case.

  Luke was wrong, though. This wasn’t how it had happened last time. I’d learned from the past and knew no one would listen to me without solid proof. This time, I hadn’t confided in anyone. The police wouldn’t want to know if I didn’t have feasible evidence.

  I felt thoroughly miserable and must have looked it, too, because Luke reached over and squeezed my shoulder.

  “It’s not the end of the world,” he said. “But I’m going to need you to promise me if you even consider doing something like this again you will talk it over with me or your mum first.”

  “Because I can’t trust my own judgement, you mean?”

  “Well, I wasn’t going to put it exactly like that, but yes. Seriously, Beth, I’m worried about you.”

  I leant back in the seat and turned to look out of the passenger window as we crawled through the traffic. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset Phil. That was the last thing I wanted to do, but it’s like I have a compulsion. Once the crazy idea he might have had something to do with Jenna’s disappearance was in my head, it niggled away at me until I couldn’t think about anything else. I just wanted to rule him out.”

  “Right, the next time you feel like that, tell me. We’ll talk about it.”

  “You’ll try to talk me out of it, you mean.”

  “Only for your own good.”

  Luke hadn’t forgiven me completely, but he was coming around to the idea. It was more than I deserved. By the time we drove into Woodstock, the atmosphere between us had thawed considerably.

  As he turned onto the High Street we passed the local Co-op, and I said, “Could you drop me here? I want to get something from the shop.”

  I still felt a little light-headed but hadn’t wanted to tell Luke I hadn’t eaten because he’d insist on us stopping for food, and I wanted some time alone.

  Guilt was weighing heavily on my shoulders. I’d screwed up and needed to mull things over without feeling judged or seeing the disappointment in Luke’s eyes.

  Luke pulled over to the side of the road. “Do you want me to wait?”

  I shook my head as I unclipped the seatbelt. “No, don’t be silly. The house is only around the corner, and I’m not planning to buy that much from the shop.” I reached for the door handle. “I really am sorry. Thanks for the lift home.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  Luke waited until I was just about to step into the Co-op before driving off. Even though I’d wanted to be alone, I felt hollow seeing him leave.

  I took a deep breath and stepped inside the little supermarket, grabbed a basket and headed for the convenience food aisle. I wanted something easy to cook. I was regretting texting Mum earlier and telling her not to save me anything. I looked down at the ready meals despondently.

  Scooping up a chilled chicken tikka masala with rice, I studied the front of the packet. The picture of curry on the front looked good, but when I pulled back the cardboard and looked at the food beneath the polythene, it didn’t look so appetising.

  “Hi, Beth.”

  I turned around and saw Pippa standing behind me, clutching a b
ottle of wine.

  “Everything all right?” She looked down at the microwave meal for one in my hand.

  I shrugged. “Fine, it’s just been a long day.”

  “For me, too.” She raised the bottle of wine and then tilted her head to the side. “I don’t suppose you fancy joining me, do you? I was thinking about getting an Indian takeaway.” She nodded at the packet in my hand. “I’m pretty sure it will taste better than that.”

  Tired, and bone weary after my disastrous evening, I was going to refuse, but Pippa’s warm smile made me reconsider.

  I placed the ready meal back on the shelf and nodded. “An Indian takeaway sounds perfect.”

  After queuing at the checkout to pay for the wine, we headed over to the local Indian restaurant. We sat in the small reception area, crunching our way through a mound of poppadoms, and I listened to Pippa tell me how she’d spent her day dealing with shoddy suppliers.

  I let her words wash over me and tried to relax. Pippa’s problems were minor in the grand scheme of things, but I tried to nod at the right moments and sound supportive. Perhaps Daniel was right. Maybe I was too self-involved.

  We carried the takeaway back to Pippa’s house and ate it at her kitchen table. The chicken biryani was as good as I’d remembered, and we shared the chicken tikka masala, using nan bread to mop up the sauce as we sipped Pinot Grigio.

  “Ugh,” Pippa said as she took another sip of her wine and screwed up her nose. “It’s not cold enough for me. I know it’s sacrilege to dilute good wine, but I’m going to put an ice cube in mine. Do you want one?”

  I shook my head. My mouth was too full of chicken biryani to respond.

  “You’re right,” I said when Pippa sat back down and placed her wine glass on the table. “This is a million times better than a microwave meal.”

  “I think that has something to do with the half a pound of ghee they put into each curry. It’s fattening but delicious.” She grinned and cheerfully took another bite.

  Pippa had fairy lights set up around the French doors that led to the garden. They weren’t very bright but gave out a subtle glow, lighting up the plants on the patio.

  “You’ve made your house look lovely,” I said and meant it.

  It was hard not to compare it to Phil Bowman’s house. Pippa’s house was a real home, comfortable and warm, and a direct contrast to Phil’s austere house.

  “Thanks,” Pippa said, raising her glass to chink it against mine. “Have you decided if you’re going to go back to Dubai?”

  I took a sip of my wine before replying. “Not yet, but the way I’m feeling at the moment has made me want to stick around.”

  I wondered whether Pippa knew about Daniel’s debts and thought about mentioning it. It was bitchy of me to consider going behind his back, but I was still furious with him. But telling Pippa wouldn’t do much good. It wouldn’t make me feel better or get Mum’s money back, and it would upset Pippa. She had done very well for herself and had worked hard for her success. I hoped Daniel wasn’t viewing Pippa as an easy target for money.

  I needed to push Daniel’s debts out of my head until after we found out what had happened to Jenna.

  One way or another, things would work out. I could go back to work in Dubai and send money home so Mum could pay the mortgage, or I could get a job here and live at home while I paid off the loan. We would get through it somehow. Everyday problems I could deal with. They seemed small in comparison to the mystery surrounding Jenna’s disappearance.

  “How are things going with you and Daniel?” I asked.

  I wanted to ask whether Daniel had told her about the photograph of Jenna, but by asking the question I would give the game away.

  Pippa smiled happily and leant forward. “Between you and me, things are going very well.” She waggled her eyebrows suggestively. “In fact, I think he might be on the verge of asking me to marry him.”

  I nearly choked on a mouthful of chicken tikka. “Really? Wow.”

  The smile left Pippa’s face. “You think it’s too soon, don’t you?”

  “No, not at all. I think it’s great news.” I raised my wineglass. “Congratulations.”

  “Well, he hasn’t actually asked me yet, but I’m sure it’s only a matter of time.”

  “So, are you and Mark divorced now?” I knew they’d separated when Mark moved to Warwickshire, but I didn’t know whether they’d gone through the formalities of a divorce.

  “Oh, yes, that’s all done and dusted now. Between you and me, it feels like a lifetime ago.”

  After we’d finished the bottle of wine, Pippa made us coffee. I turned down the whiskey she generously added to her own cup. I wanted to take my prescription tablets tonight, and I’d already had wine. Mixing them with alcohol was probably unwise.

  We cleared the table before rinsing off the plates and then stacking the dishwasher.

  “Thanks for tonight,” I said as I drained the last of my coffee.

  “No problem. I enjoyed it. If you’re sticking around, we should make it a regular thing.”

  “I’d like that.” I said, realising to my surprise that I meant it.

  I needed to start living a normal life and that meant interacting with people, making friends and keeping them. Once we’d found Jenna, I wanted to believe everything would be back to normal.

  Pippa walked me to the door, and as she switched on the light in the hallway, I saw a children’s puzzle resting on the telephone table. I hadn’t spotted it as we came in.

  The sight of it produced a bittersweet memory as I remembered how Jenna had loved puzzles. Her favourite one had been a puzzle of a pig splashing in muddy puddles, and she couldn’t get enough of it. She’d been good at them, too, and Kate had been very proud of her ability to fit together the pieces of a puzzle meant for older children.

  Pippa followed my gaze. “It’s a present for my cousin’s little girl. I’ve not seen her for ages. I know presents are no substitute for visiting, but it eases my conscience a little bit.”

  “I’m sure she’ll appreciate it.”

  I said goodnight to Pippa and walked down the steps to the pavement. The air was fresh and cool now, and the sun had long since set. The combination of wine and a large dinner made me feel sleepy, and I was glad I only had a short walk home.

  My route took me past the Parsons’s thatched cottage, reminding me of Dawn’s odd behaviour earlier. I turned away refusing to look at the creepy cottage with its dark, glinting windows. I had more than enough to worry about now without adding Dawn Parsons to my list.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Mum was still awake when I let myself in. It was after ten o’clock, and she was in the kitchen making hot chocolate.

  She looked up as I entered the kitchen. “Did you have a nice evening?”

  I knew she was trying to contain her curiosity, even though she wanted to give me the third degree about where I’d been.

  “Sorry I’m late. I bumped into Pippa on the way back and joined her for an Indian.”

  “Want one?” Mum held up her mug.

  She’d been mixing the cocoa powder and milk into paste. It was her special technique to make old-fashioned hot chocolate. She made it that way to avoid lumps because, according to Mum, there was nothing worse than lumpy hot chocolate. The shops stocked a dozen different instant varieties these days, which could be made with hot water, but Mum insisted they just didn’t taste the same as proper old-fashioned cocoa.

  I nodded. “Thanks.”

  My stomach churned in protest. After stuffing myself with Indian food, a sugary chocolate drink was not what I needed. But I wanted the comforting smell and taste of my favourite childhood drink.

  “Did you hear anything from the police?”

  Mum shook her head. “No, I would have called you if there’d been any news.

  “I suppose they’re still looking into Robin Vaughan, but as far as I know, they haven’t found any links with Jenna’s case.”

  I sat
down at the kitchen table as Mum watched the milk heating on top of the stove.

  I put my elbows on the table, leaning forward, suddenly feeling so, so tired. Mum wasn’t going to ask me what I’d been up to today. It wasn’t her style. Even when Kate and I were young, she would wait to for us to come to her with problems, thinking we were more likely to confide in her if she didn’t badger us. Though I could tell it took an effort for her to avoid the questions she must want to ask.

  I didn’t think Luke would spill my secret, but things had a way of getting out, and I didn’t want Mum to find out what I’d been doing this afternoon from someone else. It was my mistake, and I needed to own up to it. If I told her about it now, calmly and rationally, hopefully she wouldn’t panic and think I was losing it again.

  “I went to see Philip Bowman today.”

  Mum turned around, keeping one hand on the handle of the saucepan. “Philip Bowman? Why did you need to see him?”

  I took a deep breath. “It was because of that weird dream I had. It’s been bothering me.”

  “The nightmare?”

  I nodded. “It was disturbing. Of course, it was just a dream, but I had to go and check.”

  Mum left the saucepan unattended and walked over to the table. “What do you mean? What did you have to check?”

  “The dream I had was about Phil, and he had Jenna with him. He insisted Jenna was his daughter, Isabel.” I shrugged. “I can’t explain it. I know it sounds ridiculous, but the dream set me on edge.”

  Mum put a hand to her mouth. “Beth, what have you done?”

  “Nothing. It’s nothing to worry about. I just wanted to be honest with you. I went to see him today, talked to him and looked around his house, and there was absolutely no evidence he had anything to do with Jenna’s disappearance.”

  Mum looked shocked. “Did you tell him you suspected he had something to do with it?”

  “Not in so many words. I suppose that was implied, though.”

  “That poor man. He lost his wife and daughter just before Jenna went missing.”

  “Exactly. That’s why I went to see him. I thought it might have tipped him over the edge.”