Mack held up the piece of paper for him and Maggie to read. The note was written in block capitals.
DEAR MRS KINNOCK
I’M SORRY FOR YOUR LOSS. IT MUST’VE COME AS A SHOCK TO SEE ALL THAT BLOOD. THOSE SEQUINS WILL BE MURDER TO CLEAN!
IF YOU WANT TO KNOW ABOUT YOUR DAUGHTER, IT WILL COST YOU £250,000. YOU’VE GOT 48 HOURS TO GET MY MONEY READY. I’LL BE IN TOUCH TO LET YOU KNOW WHERE YOU CAN SEND IT.
IN THE MEANTIME, DON’T GO SPENDING WHAT’S MINE . . . !
14
There was a guest bathroom just off the entrance hall. Lesley left the door wide open as she pitched forward and heaved into the toilet bowl. She hadn’t eaten since yesterday morning and her abdominal muscles cramped viciously as they tried to expel the tiny amount of bile left in the pit of her stomach. She heard Mack say her name as he approached from behind but she frantically batted him away. She didn’t want anyone anywhere near her. He didn’t argue and closed the door as he left.
As she slumped against the toilet, grief ripped through her like an electric shock. Whoever wrote the note knew the design of Rosie’s skirt and knew about the blood. What had they done to her?
The idea of her child suffering God knows what at the hands of a stranger made Lesley retch over and over until her body had nothing left to give. Eventually she sat up and dragged the back of her hand across her mouth to wipe it clean. Her skin felt like it was on fire so she lowered the toilet lid and rested her forehead against its cool surface, shivering involuntarily as her skin made contact. Then she wished, not for the first time, that she’d never bought the EuroMillions ticket.
Winning such a vast amount of money had changed everything and what she could never tell Mack, what he would find impossible to comprehend, was that she had been far happier before, living in Mansell in the decidedly average semi-detached house they’d scrimped to buy before they had Rosie. She missed her old job working part-time as an admin clerk for an optician chain in the high street and pined for their old friends, the couples with children Rosie’s age that she and Mack would go out for a drink with on a Saturday night. It wasn’t the most exciting life, nothing to boast about, but she cherished its simplicity.
Minutes slipped by until a knock on the door broke through her reverie.
‘Lesley, it’s me, Maggie. DCI Umpire is here. He’d like to talk to you. Do you feel up to it?’
She wanted to scream that, no, she didn’t. She wanted them all to go away and leave her alone, even Mack.
Especially Mack.
She’d tried to convince him that allowing their names to be publicized as EuroMillions winners was a mistake and would make them targets of unwanted attention, but he cared too much about letting people know how rich he’d become. Before, he’d had a solid career as a town planner and was behind some of the better-received developments in Mansell, including the new shopping centre. But he earned nothing like the six-figure salaries his old uni friends took home as lawyers, architects and, in one instance, head of a media company. Knowing they were more successful meant the chip on his shoulder, honed in childhood thanks to his parents favouring his older brother, had sharpened with age. Winning the lottery was Mack’s chance to shine at last.
‘Lesley?’ Maggie repeated, her voice full of concern.
‘Do I have to talk to him now?’ she said wearily.
‘The sooner you answer his questions, the quicker he can return to the search.’
The insinuation that her being difficult might delay him finding Rosie landed like a punch and she clambered to her feet. Outside the door, Maggie was waiting with her hands tucked into her trouser pockets and she flashed a kindly smile that almost made Lesley break down again.
‘You okay?’
She nodded, not trusting herself to speak.
‘DCI Umpire will be as quick as he can with his questions. He knows how difficult this is for you and Mack.’
Umpire, Mack and Belmar were waiting in the dining room. Someone had already set down a glass of water on the table for her. Lesley glanced towards the French doors and was relieved to see the curtains had been left open; she didn’t want to spend the whole time worrying about what new horror might lurk behind them. The brightness outside suggested another sunny day to follow and the dining room was already warming up. Lesley felt her armpits dampen as she took a seat beside her husband.
‘Mrs Kinnock, I was just telling your husband that I’ll be taking the note away for forensic analysis,’ said DCI Umpire. ‘If we’re lucky we’ll get something from it.’
The thought of more waiting filled her with despair. ‘How long will that take?’ she fretted.
‘Hopefully only a couple of hours,’ said Umpire. ‘The letter is postmarked Mansell and must’ve been sent yesterday afternoon to make the last post. That does give us something to go on. You told my officers that whoever wrote the previous notes in crayon seemed convinced your win is rightfully theirs and now this letter demands you hand over a quarter of a million. Does anyone have a legitimate claim to the money? Have you been in dispute with anyone about the amount you won?’
She and Mack shook their heads.
‘We had the only winning ticket for that draw across the whole of Europe,’ said Lesley. ‘You can check.’
‘I don’t suppose you can remember when the first crayon note was sent?’
‘Not really. We started getting letters after the Mansell Echo ran an article about us moving here,’ said Mack. ‘The bloody paper printed a picture of the house they’d nicked off the estate agent’s website and even though they didn’t publish the name, they said it was on Burr Way. Then someone put it on Twitter and after that we got deluged by people asking us for money.’
‘You had no idea the paper was going to print the story?’
‘No. We didn’t complain though because we’d been in the Echo a few times already, when they interviewed us after the win,’ said Mack. ‘I don’t think they realized what they were doing.’
Lesley had to bite her lip to stop herself retorting that the real reason Mack didn’t complain was because he wanted everyone to see how flash the house was. But she didn’t, because she didn’t want the police to see how angry she was with him for sacrificing their privacy for the chance to show off to his peers.
‘Was it just the local paper that ran the picture?’
‘At first, but once it was on Twitter, a national newspaper ran it and it was all over the Internet.’
‘But you can’t pinpoint the exact time the first crayon letter arrived?’
‘No, sorry.’
‘It’s fine, Mr Kinnock,’ said Umpire. ‘I’ll get someone to dig out the original article and we’ll also get on to the lottery provider Camelot to see if anyone has disputed your jackpot.’
Mack’s hands balled into fists as they rested on his thighs.
‘We won the money fair and square. I bet the bastard who sent us that card is just pissed off they didn’t. Pissed off enough to make us suffer.’
‘By attacking Rosie?’ said Lesley, horrified.
‘Money can be divisive and brings out the worst in some people, while jealousy also makes people behave irrationally,’ said Umpire.
‘Abducting a child is not irrational, it’s sick,’ wailed Lesley. ‘You have to find her! The thought that someone’s—’ She couldn’t finish.
‘There is something else I want you to consider as we check every line of inquiry,’ said Umpire. ‘DC Neville, do you want to explain?’
Maggie looked surprised but quickly recovered her composure.
‘Yesterday I began to ask you about whether you’d seen any scars on Rosie, do you remember?’
‘Yes, before we saw the skirt.’
‘Well, some of Rosie’s friends have said they think she self-harms by cutting herself and that may account for the blood.’
‘No fucking way,’ Mack erupted. ‘She does no such thing.’
‘With respect, Mr Kinnock, parents don’t always know
that’s what their child is doing. But,’ said Maggie quickly, as Mack swore again, ‘I’m pretty certain you would’ve at least noticed some grazing or scars on her arms or legs or even her torso.’
‘No, we haven’t seen anything,’ he snapped.
‘He’s right,’ said Lesley. ‘Earlier on I was thinking about how much it would’ve hurt her if she was dragged through the trees at the bottom of the garden because her skin is very sensitive and the branches would’ve cut it to ribbons. I’ve never seen a scratch on her that’s been self-inflicted.’
‘She might try to hide the scars, though.’
‘No, absolutely not. Yesterday morning we ate breakfast together and she was still in the vest and shorts she wears to bed. There wasn’t a mark on her.’
‘Why do you suppose her friends think she does self-harm?’ asked Umpire.
‘Who cares? She doesn’t cut herself and that’s the end of it,’ said Mack.
Maggie let the subject drop and Umpire took over.
‘The other thing I need to discuss with you before I head back to the station is holding a press conference,’ he said. ‘We’ve had no witnesses come forward so far in the immediate vicinity, but a wider appeal might help. I’d like you both to take part.’
Lesley exchanged a worried look with her husband. ‘You mean go on telly to talk about Rosie?’
‘Yes. Let people see how much you want her home and the effect her being missing is having on you.’
‘You want us to cry on TV?’ Mack bridled.
‘If that’s what it takes to find her, then yes,’ said Umpire matter-of-factly. His face was impassive but his eyes showed sympathy.
‘What if I can’t answer their questions?’ said Lesley.
‘Because you might be too upset? Then leave the talking to Mack. I’m not going to lie and pretend it won’t be difficult – press conferences are emotional for every family in your situation. But if you try to stay focused on the fact that what you’re doing could help Rosie you’ll get through it. DC Neville and DC Small will be there to support you and talk through the process beforehand.’
Lesley looked at Maggie. ‘Will it help?’
‘TV appeals do jog people’s memories,’ Maggie replied. ‘They can also prompt people to call in and report the names of people they think are behaving suspiciously and might somehow be involved.’ She fixed Lesley with her unusual eyes. ‘I wouldn’t encourage you to take part if I didn’t think some good might come of it.’
‘Okay, we’ll do it,’ said Mack, answering for the pair of them. ‘When do you want it to happen?’
‘This afternoon. Rosie’s disappearance is already headline news and all over social media – if we can get your appeal out sooner rather than later we’ll keep the momentum going. We also need some more photographs of Rosie, as many as you can provide. We have the most recent picture of her that you gave us yesterday but it’s always good to provide the media with a selection, including a couple of baby shots. And one of her in her current school uniform would be good to remind everyone how young she is.’
‘Okay, we’ll look some out,’ said Mack.
Umpire said he would see them at the station for the press conference and left. Mack went upstairs to his office with Belmar to look for any other letters and Lesley went next door to the lounge with Maggie. Feeling restless and jumpy, she picked up the remote control and turned on the wall-mounted TV, flicking through the channels until she reached Sky News. A male reporter stationed by the security gate at the top of Burr Way was updating the viewers on what was known so far, which wasn’t much. Rosie was still missing, he said, and although it was believed an item of her clothing had been found, the police had yet to confirm it. A press conference was expected to take place later in the day with Rosie’s parents. Lesley hit the mute button.
‘DCI Umpire doesn’t waste time, does he? What if we’d said no to taking part?’
‘The press conference would go ahead whatever you decided. It’s really important we get the media on side to help find Rosie. We want them working with us, not against us.’
‘Meaning what?’
‘Sometimes the papers can be tough on victims’ families if they think there’s something suspicious about them or they have another agenda. I’m not saying that will happen to you and Mack, but because of your EuroMillions win there’s heightened interest and the press want to speak to you. If we can channel their interest into supportive appeals on your behalf, we’ll get the public on side too.’
‘So we have to pander to the press to find Rosie?’
Maggie shrugged apologetically. ‘Unfortunately it’s often how these things work these days.’
‘If that’s what it takes to bring Rosie home, I’ll do it,’ said Lesley firmly. ‘Whatever they want from us.’
Her attention was diverted from the television to a folded-up throw left on the arm of the sofa.
‘Where did that come from?’
‘Sorry, I left it there. I borrowed it last night and forgot to put it back.’
‘Oh, did you sleep down here?’
‘Yes. I didn’t want to disturb you upstairs.’
Lesley gave a short, mirthless laugh. ‘Disturb us? You’ve seen the size of this house, haven’t you? It’s like a hotel. I’ll get one of the spare bedrooms organized for you—’
She stopped mid-sentence, the words frozen on her lips like icicles. If Maggie needed to stay the night again, it would be because Rosie still wasn’t home. She shuddered at the thought. Then something on the TV caught her eye and she gasped.
‘Is that Kathryn?’
It was Kathryn and her mum, Sarah, their faces filling the screen in close-up. Lesley turned the volume up just as an unseen reporter off-camera asked Kathryn how well she knew Rosie.
‘She’s my best friend,’ she said, barely audible. ‘I just want her to come home. Whoever’s done this to her needs to tell us where she is.’
‘Have the police told you they suspect she’s been abducted, then?’ said the reporter’s disembodied voice.
Kathryn looked to her mother.
‘Because of my daughter’s close relationship with Rosie, we are in constant dialogue with the police,’ said Sarah, smarming at the camera as she gripped Kathryn’s hand. She had a pair of sunglasses perched on top of her hair like a headband.
Lesley was confused. ‘Is that right? Are you telling them what’s going on?’
‘Not me,’ said Maggie firmly.
The two of them watched as Kathryn repeated her plea for Rosie to come home. The teenager was dry-eyed but sounded distraught. Lesley ached to see her suffering.
‘I must call her later, or go round to see her. She must be so worried about Rosie.’
‘Are you and Mrs Stockton close, or is it just the girls?’ Maggie asked.
Lesley tried to be tactful. ‘Just them. Sarah and I had lunch a couple of times after Rosie and Kathryn first became friendly but, well, I suppose we’re very different. She has her interests and they’re not ones I share . . .’
She was cut short by Maggie’s phone ringing. The officer’s face brightened as she checked the caller ID.
‘I have to take this,’ she said. ‘I won’t be long.’
As Maggie shut the door behind her, Lesley returned her attention to the TV screen. Kathryn and Sarah had disappeared from view and a perky blonde was now delivering the weather report for the rest of the day.
Rain was coming.
15
Maggie took the call outside on the drive. The rear garden was out of bounds, sealed off by blue and white police tape that fluttered like bunting in the breeze that was picking up.
‘It’s me,’ said Lou. Her voice was flat, exhausted.
‘Hey, sis. I’m so sorry I had to leave you at the school yesterday. Did the rest of the concert go okay? How was Scotty’s solo?’
Lou was in no mood to give a review and the graciousness she’d shown yesterday at Maggie’s departure appeared to have dese
rted her.
‘I’m ringing because you owe me twenty quid. I had to get a taxi home because you buggered off with the car.’
Maggie knew a taxi from the school to Lou’s house would’ve cost less than half that but guilt stopped her from pointing it out.
‘I’ll give you the cash and I’ll reimburse you for the pizza too.’
‘We didn’t have any. We didn’t go.’
‘Why not? The boys were looking forward to it.’
‘I didn’t have enough cash on me.’
‘Couldn’t you have used your card?’
‘Stop interrogating me like I’m one of your suspects,’ Lou snapped.
Maggie mentally counted to ten. When Lou was being this tetchy nothing she said would placate her. The best thing she could do was let her sister stew it out of her system.
‘Fine. I’ll try to drop the cash off later,’ she said.
‘When later? This afternoon? Tonight? I need it.’
‘I get that, Lou, but I can’t just leave when I want. I’m meant to stay with the family.’
She regretted the words the moment they left her lips. It was like dropping a lit match into a box of fireworks.
‘What about your family?’ Lou erupted. ‘Shouldn’t we come first?’
‘You were fine for me to leave yesterday.’
‘That was before.’
‘Before what?’ said Maggie, her own mood starting to sour. It was like arguing with a teenager.
‘Before I ended up skint because I had to pay for the taxi home.’
‘That’s not fair, Lou. You could’ve asked someone for a lift. I do as much as I can for you and the kids but I have to work and this is my job.’
Maggie heard an intake of breath down the line, followed by a long, drawn-out sigh.
‘I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have shouted,’ said Lou. ‘It’s just that with Rob gone you know I can’t afford to treat the kids much and it pisses me off.’
Maggie hated hearing her sister sound so down. Since walking out, Rob had made only a handful of maintenance payments towards Mae’s keep, leaving Lou struggling to provide for her and the boys. Maggie tried to help by transferring £300 into her sister’s account every payday to go towards her bills and Lou also received a small amount from Jude’s grandparents every month, but nothing from Scotty’s absent dad or his family. Maggie and Lou’s parents, Graeme and Jeanette, lived on the south coast near Portsmouth, and while they occasionally helped out financially, they otherwise showed little interest in their grandchildren. Maggie had long suspected it might have something to do with the fact Jude and Scotty were mixed race, although they’d both hotly denied it the one time she was brave enough to ask. But Graeme Neville in particular always bristled when his grandsons’ parentage was raised and there were no photographs of either boy anywhere in their seaside home.
Gone Astray Page 10
