Never Coming Home

by Evonne Wareham

  ‘What?’ He swung back towards her. ‘It was the pictures.’ He nodded to the photo frames on the shelves behind her. ‘The little girl. I assumed she was Jamie’s younger sister.’

  His breath jarred. In a second her face had gone from soft to sharp again, the eyes hostile.

  ‘Those photographs are all of Jamie.’

  Devlin felt as if a pit had suddenly opened at his feet. He scraped his hand over his face. ‘I don’t understand.’ Cold sweat was settling between his shoulder blades. He crossed the room quickly, to pick up the nearest of the frames. He had to be sure. He held it out to her. ‘You’re telling me this is Jamie.’

  ‘Of course it is. I only had one daughter, Mr Devlin.’ She was moving towards him, tense with suspicion. He didn’t blame her. ‘Look – I don’t know what’s going on here … If this is some sort of game –’

  ‘No! It’s not a game.’ He held up his hand, mind reeling. What the fuck is this? ‘I don’t know what’s going on either … but I have to tell you that this is not the child who died in that car wreck.’

  Chapter Three

  All Kaz could do was stare at him.

  Her eyes seemed to be locked on his face. He didn’t look deranged. Dangerous, but not insane.

  Behind her Suzanne had risen to her feet. This was grotesque. She could feel her mouth working, trying to find words.

  ‘Are you trying to tell me that my daughter wasn’t in the crash?’

  Amazingly she’d formed a sentence. Her brain had begun to splutter past the shock, to compute information. Information that didn’t make sense.

  She took a long look at Devlin, feeling confusion crowding her again. What she was seeing in his face – it didn’t look like anything she might have expected. His expression was as stunned and bewildered as hers must be. And there was something else in there too. Something that looked like – pain? Pain?

  ‘I’m not trying – ’ His voice sounded rusty. ‘I am telling you. Jamie – she’s what four, five years old?’

  ‘She would have been five. On Christmas Eve.’ The memory had nausea rising. Kaz gritted her teeth. ‘What has that got to do with it?’ She couldn’t understand why her voice sounded so steady, when inside she was dissolving. Now there was something new in his face – excitement?

  ‘The girl who died in that car had to be ten, maybe eleven years old. And she was blonde, with braces on her teeth.’

  ‘Could there …’ Suzanne had moved silently to stand behind her. Instinctively Kaz put out her hand and felt her mother’s fingers grasping hers. ‘Could there have been two girls – did Gemma have a child of her own?’

  Kaz felt a rush of emotion, too complex to classify. Devlin and her mother were both looking to her for an answer. She tried to focus. ‘She could have, I don’t know.’ She stopped. ‘She was only twenty-four.’

  Devlin was frowning now, turning the thing over. As if he really believed –

  ‘It’s possible then that she had a child, but not likely.’ He shook his head. ‘There was never any suggestion of more than one child –’

  Kaz put her hand to her head. The whole thing was surreal. What was she doing, even thinking about this?

  There were dark wings beating on the edges of her eyes. She felt strange. As if she was going to faint. She’d never fainted in her life. No time to start now. She really couldn’t –

  She heard Devlin curse. Felt the room move as he leaped forward. His reflexes are very fast. For some reason that seemed funny, not sinister at all. She wanted to giggle but it didn’t make it to her mouth.

  He had her off her feet and onto the sofa while she was still too fuzzy to resist. ‘Do you have any brandy?’

  Points to Devlin. Not fazed by swooning females. Store that away for future … for future …

  ‘It’s in the kitchen.’ Suzanne hurried off to get it.

  The doorbell rang. Voices in the hall. The gas man, reclaiming his spanner.

  Kaz lay still for a moment, getting her bearings. ‘I didn’t faint. I never faint.’ It was important to get that clear.

  ‘No,’ he agreed. Smooth. His face, as she peered at it, looked totally blank. Put her in mind of a brick wall.

  ‘You’re not pouring brandy down my throat.’ She was clear on that too, even if the room was still showing an alarming tendency to come and go around the edges.

  ‘Hell no – the brandy’s for me.’

  For a long moment they gazed at each other. His hand was still on her shoulder. Kaz could feel the warm strength of it through the swirl in her head. Hope, fear, anger. No wonder she’d … uh … got a little fuzzy at the corners.

  ‘If you’re making all this up –’

  ‘I swear. I’ll swear on my mother’s grave if you like. She’ll kill me if she finds out – but what the hell?’

  ‘I think maybe you’re crazy.’ She leaned back and shut her eyes. Shut him out for a bit. Let herself re-group. His hand was still there, though. Warm. She had an irrational desire to cling to it. Totally irrational, as he was the cause of the problem. She opened her eyes again. ‘Have you escaped from somewhere?’

  ‘Nope, and I’m not delusional, and I don’t see little green men and I don’t talk to my refrigerator.’

  ‘Talking to the fridge is okay. It’s when it talks back that you’re in trouble.’

  Kaz sat up and swung away from him. He stepped back, letting her go. She needed to be away from him, to think, but she missed the feel of him. The room stayed where it should be. Mostly. Suzanne came back with a bottle of cognac and three glasses. Kaz could see from her eyes that she’d caught the end of the conversation. Mercifully, she didn’t ask.

  ‘Don’t worry about it,’ Devlin advised her as he accepted a glass. Instead of going back to his seat, he settled on the floor next to Kaz’s feet, looking up at her. Within reach. She sipped brandy, studying him. The appearance was all macho alpha male, yet he didn’t feel the need to dominate. Jeff would have been pacing the room, waving his arms. Probably yelling. ‘I think we need to consider what we have here,’ he suggested softly. ‘The implications.’

  ‘There was another child. There’s been some sort of mix up, although I can’t think what. Or …’ Her voice faltered. Her chest was too tight to breathe. ‘Or you’re telling me that my daughter may still be alive.’

  ‘Don’t go there yet.’ He leaned forward. ‘When you got the news, what happened?’ He was watching her face intently.

  ‘My uncle – he’s a detective inspector with Scotland Yard. He came to tell me. Jeff contacted him, thought it would be better if Phil broke it to me.’ Or was too much of a coward to do it himself. ‘I flew out. Jeff had done all the formalities, identified the body.’ Her eyes widened. ‘I didn’t see her. I wanted to. He said that her face … that she was too badly mutilated.’ She’d thrown up all night, until the hotel doctor had given her an injection to stop the retching. ‘We had the funeral – cremation. I brought the ashes home. We scattered them off the Albert Bridge. Jamie liked to go there, to see the boats on the river.’ Her voice husked as her throat closed over.

  Suzanne leaned in and patted her hand.

  ‘After it happened – I was completely numb,’ Kaz went on after a moment. ‘It wasn’t until weeks later that I began to ask questions. That was when I found out that Gemma was drunk.’ She stared down at Devlin. ‘My ex-husband told me my daughter was dead. If she isn’t …’

  ‘Then he must have her.’ Devlin nodded. ‘Was the divorce acrimonious – arguments about custody?’

  ‘At first, a little, but in the last year we’d been getting on much better. And Jamie still loved her dad. That was why I agreed to the American trip. I didn’t want to come between them, just because Jeff and I …’ Her hand went to her mouth. ‘Oh God – was he planning to take her for over a year?’

&nb
sp; ‘Could be.’ Devlin hauled himself off the floor and onto the arm of the sofa. A weird, disconnected part of Kaz’s brain admired the way his muscles dealt with the movement. He was long and lean and looming alongside her. She glanced away, aware of heat in her face.

  It wasn’t the look of him, it was the fact that she’d nearly fainted. That must be what was making her cheeks pink. Something about disrupted blood flow. She was still disoriented, from almost passing out. Devlin had caught her. How embarrassing was that? Enough to make anyone – well –

  Is blush the word you’re looking for?

  She wriggled her shoulders. Women of twenty-nine didn’t blush. It had to be something else. What would the man think? That she made a habit of swooning into a stranger’s arms? Even though she’d told him she didn’t?

  She had to pull herself back to hear his next question. She wasn’t sure that he hadn’t repeated it

  ‘Do you know where Jeff is now?’

  ‘No. We didn’t keep in touch – after Jamie …’ She shut down on the sudden stab, the memory of pain. ‘He said he wanted a clean break. I didn’t argue. He still gets post here sometimes. Last time I forwarded something it came back “Gone Away”. I don’t know where he is.’

  ‘Then you can’t take the easy route and ask him.’ Crooked grin, very Steve McQueen. ‘I guess you should think about this. Get some advice – maybe your uncle?’ He was standing up. Leaving?

  Kaz stifled what felt like a thread of panic. There was no reason for it. She could handle this. She wanted him gone. She needed … space … To get her thoughts in order. That was it. No space with him sitting on the end of the sofa, watching her. So strange to feel that he understood.

  ‘I’ve kind of dropped a bombshell into your life,’ he said quietly.

  ‘You could say that.’ She shook her head. It didn’t make it any clearer. ‘Like you said. I need to think.’

  ‘I’ll go now.’

  Suzanne uncurled from her position in a chair under her portrait. ‘I’ll see you out.’

  ‘Goodbye, Mrs Elmore.’ He raised one shoulder in a half-shrug. ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘Don’t be, Mr Devlin.’ She looked up at him. It was important to say this. ‘If everything you’ve told me is true, you’ve just given me back my daughter.’

  If, if, if. Kaz reached for the brandy and poured herself another shot, shuddering as it hit the back of her throat. She heard the front door open and the murmur of voices, then the sound of the door shutting. Mr Devlin had left the building.

  ‘Darling, I don’t think you should get your hopes up.’ Suzanne came back, to put her hand on Kaz’s shoulder. ‘It seems – incredible.’

  ‘That’s why I believe it.’ Kaz breathed in sharply. ‘It’s just too incredible. What’s the alternative? A mix up? Two car crashes involving one woman and one child on the same stretch of road, at the same time? Or is Devlin a liar?’ She shook her head as her mother sank into the seat next to her. ‘Why would the man make up something like that? It was all so casual. If he hadn’t said that – about my other daughter.’ She shivered. He’d been about to leave. He could have walked out of here, without you ever knowing.

  ‘He could be a very good actor?’

  ‘I don’t doubt that he is – but why come here? What’s in it for him?’

  She’d been trying to work that one out, and for the life of her she couldn’t see – which meant … ‘Mum, his story makes sense.’

  She shut her eyes. Everything slotted into place, with a horrible symmetry – which meant that Jeff … She swallowed down lurching nausea. She had to go slowly. She was taking the word of a stranger against the man she’d been married to for six years. And is that why you’re willing to accept the word of a man you don’t know, because you do know Jeff? She had to take this slowly, one step at a time. No hopes. Not yet.

  Her mother was watching her, her face screwed into lines of tension. ‘I don’t want you to – Be careful, darling.’

  ‘I intend to.’ Kaz conjured up a weak grin. ‘You were the one who told me to listen to the man!’

  ‘I didn’t know then what he was going to say.’ Suzanne reached for the brandy.

  Kaz got to her feet. ‘I’m going to ring Uncle Phil.’

  ‘A bit of a mystery man, your Mr Devlin.’ Phil sniffed appreciatively at the plateful of his sister’s signature dish, beef bourguignon, on the table before him. ‘I haven’t been able to get much on him, and what I have got I don’t like.’ He stuck in his fork. ‘I’ve got a couple more leads I’d like to follow up.’

  ‘But what about Jeff, and the crash?’ Kaz had contained her impatience for two restless days and sleepless nights, while her uncle did what he did. This afternoon she’d been ready to spit the nails into the rustic pergola her team were constructing for a woman in Islington.

  ‘First things first.’ Phil chewed appreciatively. ‘Can’t beat a nice piece of beef.’ He grinned at Suzanne.

  Kaz set her teeth. It had been her mother’s idea to have this conversation over dinner in her flat in Notting Hill. ‘You know your uncle functions better on a full belly.’

  ‘First thing you do –’ Phil took a sip of wine – ‘when you get a story like this – you look at the source. Ask yourself, is it reliable? Quite frankly, love, this bloke Devlin doesn’t bear close scrutiny. He started the security outfit three years ago. Doing well, mind, from what I can gather. Takes on the more exotic jobs. Walks close to the line on occasion. Before that – nothing.’

  Kaz raised her head with a jerk. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘What I said – nothing. ’ Phil pulled a face. ‘Well, not nothing exactly. All the right stuff is there, but it’s too clean. Too perfect.’ Phil shook his head. ‘I called in a couple of favours. Didn’t bring me much. The man’s past ticks all the right boxes, but there’s no proper history. He simply didn’t exist. Not as Devlin, anyhow. Which makes me think that there is something very nasty indeed in Mr Devlin’s past.’

  ‘Criminal?’ Suzanne’s brows rose, as she offered him more potatoes.

  ‘Not necessarily.’ Phil helped himself generously. Kaz breathed heavily, then bit her tongue as her mother shot her a cautioning glance.

  ‘What then?’ Kaz leaned forward, when it was clear that Phil wasn’t going to say any more without prompting. ‘He was some sort of spook? A spy?’ She splayed her hand on the table. ‘Look – Devlin has a murky past. Seeing the man, that does not surprise me.’ You don’t get that poised, dangerous edge from a lifetime working in an office. ‘But what about what he said?’

  ‘Can’t separate the two.’ Phil finished his meal with relish and pushed away his plate. ‘Very nice, Suze, as always.’

  Kaz wondered if it was physically possible for a human to steam from the ears. She might be about to find out. When had her Jack-the-lad Uncle Phil turned into such an – old woman!

  ‘You going to finish that?’ Her uncle pointed at her barely touched plate. Kaz pushed it towards him. ‘Don’t want good food going to waste.’ Phil began to shovel. Kaz sipped her wine, waiting. Phil could hardly miss the impatience in the silence. He looked up, shaking his head ‘I don’t like saying it, Kaz love, but you’re on a hiding to nothing if you set your hopes on anything that man told you.’

  ‘Why would Devlin make up a story like that?’

  ‘Some sort of confidence trick?’ Suzanne suggested softly.

  ‘But what? And why?’ Kaz turned to her mother.

  ‘Maybe he just gets off on manipulating people – hope, grief.’

  ‘You could be onto something there.’ Phil waved his glass. ‘I’m sorry, Kaz.’ His voice softened. ‘I know that you want to believe, but here we have a man with a dubious past, telling you a story that is, quite frankly, too incredible to be true. That your ex-husband staged some sort of conspiracy, to ste
al your daughter?’

  ‘Jeff saw his chance and took it. He identified this other child as Jamie.’ Kaz had been thinking about it. She’d thought of nothing else for forty-eight hours. Every angle, every possibility. She had no doubt that Jeff was capable of it. He’d take any kind of chance, when he wanted the outcome enough. Even marrying a woman he didn’t love. Surely there was something, at the beginning? Huh! You don’t want to think you were that much of a fool. If he’d already been planning to disappear with Jamie, this had been a gift. It really comes down to one thing – do you believe Devlin? Do you want so desperately to believe that you’re falling into whatever trap he’s set?

  ‘Have you asked the American authorities at the crash site? The Sheriff or whoever?’

  ‘I’m checking whether there was more than one accident,’ Phil agreed cautiously. ‘And I’m looking into Jeff’s whereabouts. That would be the best thing. Get in touch with him, and you could clear the whole thing up.’

  ‘Yes,’ Kaz agreed reluctantly. Or you could just go for the jugular and chop off the bastard’s balls. With blunt scissors.

  ‘Patience, love.’ Phil grinned at her. Not so daft that he doesn’t realise what you’re thinking. Didn’t get that high in the police force just on a smile. Plus he’s known you all your life.

  ‘I’ll do what I can,’ Phil continued. ‘But I think you need to accept that you had an encounter with a particularly nasty con man. If he gets in touch again, you call me immediately.’ He looked at his watch. ‘I ought to be going. You want a lift, Kaz?’

  ‘No, thanks, I’ll catch a cab later.’

  Kaz stared moodily into her wine as her mother escorted her brother to the door. She hadn’t forgotten her initial reaction to Devlin. It hadn’t been that far away from Phil’s. Even now, her uncle might be right. But now you want to believe Devlin.

  ‘He suggested you should see someone.’ When Suzanne came back she topped up their glasses.

  ‘A shrink?’ Kaz grimaced. ‘I’ve done all that, Mum, bereavement counselling, therapy. I’m still seeing Deborah regularly. This isn’t in my mind and I didn’t go looking for it.’ She dug her hands into her hair and tugged. ‘I’m bloody glad you were in the house when Devlin turned up, or everyone would think I was barking. I might think I was barking. We didn’t invent him, did we?’