Then He Was Gone

by Stephen Edger

  ‘How long did she speak to them for?’

  ‘I am sorry, mademoiselle, I do not know. I was helping my colleagues disperse the crowd. When I looked back to where she’d been standing, she was gone.’

  ‘Gone where? Did you see which direction she went in?’

  He shook his head. ‘I did not see. I am sorry. I thought she had left with you. You drove her to Cité Europe, non?’

  ‘I did, but I was late coming back. I thought she had got a lift with one of you when she didn’t phone me.’

  ‘I don’t think so. I can ask the other agents if any of them drove her back to the hotel if you want.’

  ‘Would you? Thank you.’

  Étienne asked her to wait where she was, returning moments later with the same pitiful expression. ‘No agent drove her home.’

  ‘Then I don’t understand what’s happened to her, and where she’s gone.’

  ‘Is it possible she is visiting another friend? Or perhaps she has checked in to a different hotel?’

  Becky closed her eyes, to stop the tears from falling. ‘She wouldn’t go anywhere without her phone. I’m really worried that something has happened to her.’

  ‘Excusez-moi, mademoiselle, but what do you think has happened?’

  She studied his face. Could she trust him? Antoine had described his brother as a good man; as an honest cop. But Antoine’s opinion couldn’t be relied on. Adie had told her she couldn’t trust anybody. Could Owen have infiltrated the gendarmerie? Is that how he’d managed to keep Noah’s whereabouts a secret?

  ‘Mademoiselle? Do you think…I mean, is it possible…uh…was Madame Saidi suicidal? Is it possible that she has…?’

  ‘No! Not Jules! She wouldn’t do something so cowardly. Wherever she is, she hasn’t gone there willingly. I think she has been abducted by the same people who took Noah.’

  ‘Pourquoi? Why do you think this? Do you know who abducted Noah?’

  ‘No, I don’t know who snatched Noah, but I’m sure Jules’s disappearance is related. Please, just tell Durand what has happened. I will wait as long as it takes to speak with him.’

  Étienne glanced from her to Durand’s office and back again, before he finally nodded. ‘Please, sit over there, and I will speak with Monsieur Durand.’

  Becky thanked him, and sat in the vacant chair across the room. Étienne returned a moment later to confirm Durand would see her when he finished what he was working on. Becky watched the clock hanging from the wall above the counter. Slowly, minute by minute passed. Becky was practically asleep in the chair when Durand appeared an hour later and asked her to follow him through to his office.

  Durand invited her to sit across from his desk. ‘Why are you here, mademoiselle?’

  ‘Julia Saidi is missing. She hasn’t been since the press conference yesterday. I’m concerned that something may have happened to her.’

  Durand’s chair creaked as he leaned back. ‘I see.’

  There was something different about him today. He didn’t seem flustered, or annoyed at her coming to see him. There was a nonchalance she hadn’t seen in him before, and not a trace of concern about Julia’s disappearance; almost as if he knew something she didn’t.

  Becky sat forward on the chair so she could rest her arms on the edge of his cluttered desk. ‘I think that whoever organised for Noah to be taken, has also taken Jules.’

  He stroked the stubble on his chin. ‘And who would that be?’

  ‘I’m sorry?’

  ‘Who is it you think organised for the boy to be taken?’

  ‘Well…I…I don’t know, but -’

  He silenced her with a raised hand. ‘You can stop the pretence now, Mademoiselle Townsend. I know about your friend’s deception.’

  Becky’s eyes narrowed. ‘I don’t know what you’re talk-’

  He raised his hand again. ‘We have your friend in custody. I’m now considering whether I should arrest you for wasting my time as well.’

  ‘Wait, what? Jules is here?’

  ‘No, but she will be once we find and arrest her.’

  ‘Arrest her? For what?’

  ‘Do you know how much time and effort these agents have gone to, to try and find the boy? They have worked long hours, and given up rest days to try and locate him. Your friend has wasted at least two days of our investigation. That puts us two days behind finding the boy.’

  ‘Durand, you’re not making any sense. What is it you think Jules has done wrong? She’s only been missing since yesterday.’

  ‘She probably learned that we had discovered her duplicity.’

  ‘Duplicity? I don’t know what you’re talking about. Can you tell me what’s going on? Is Jules here or not?’

  He considered her for a moment. ‘She is not.’

  ‘Then who the hell do you have in custody?’

  He paused again, trying to read her. ‘The ransom letter we received here on Thursday: our experts found DNA on it. We have the perpetrator – or one of them at least – in custody. I have just interviewed him and he has admitted what he did.’

  ‘He?’

  Durand leapt to his feet and left the office with a cursory, ‘Follow me.’

  Becky struggled to keep up with him, as he tore through the open workspace and out to the back of the building and through the secure area to the cells. The guard stationed at the security door gave Durand a puzzled look, but allowed them through when Durand glared back. He continued along a damp-smelling corridor, until they reached a narrow metal door. Durand lowered the viewing shield and nodded for Becky to look through.

  FIFTY-SIX

  Becky expected to see Owen or Adie in the cell, and it took a moment for her to register the sad eyes staring back at her through the viewing port.

  ‘Hussein?’

  Hussein Shadid rushed to the door when he heard his name called. ‘I know you. You’re Julia’s friend, aren’t you? Thank God. I don’t think Julia mentioned your name, at least I can’t remember it. Have you come to get me out? I can pay the bail, whatever it is.’

  Durand slid the viewing shield back up and locked it. ‘You know this man?’

  ‘Well…I wouldn’t say I know him. I met him – briefly – the other day. He turned up at our hotel claiming to be Noah’s paternal father. Jules threw him out.’

  ‘Shadid came here on Wednesday and offered to pay a reward for information about the boy. He wanted me to arrange a press conference for him, but I refused. While he was here, he had a cup of coffee. We were able to match DNA from his cup to what was found on the letter. There is no doubt that he sent the English ransom letter.’

  Becky was about to speak, when the dots joined in her mind. ‘And you think that Jules and I put him up to it? You think we knew he sent the letter.’

  Durand shrugged. ‘It is a reasonable suspicion, non?’

  ‘I promise you: we had nothing to do with that! Jules can’t stand him. She hates him. There is no way she would collude with him on something so…so…you must believe me. All we have ever wanted is Noah’s safe return. A fake ransom note helps nobody.’

  ‘I agree. It is a waste of everybody’s time, especially mine. That is why Shadid will be detained, until I decide what to do with him.’

  ‘Has he admitted what he did yet?’

  ‘We have interviewed him once. He has not said anything yet, but I know a guilty man when I see one.’

  ‘If that’s true, then you’ll be able to see I’m not guilty.’

  He considered her. ‘I believe you had nothing to do with the ransom, but I still think there is something you are not telling me. I hope for your sake that it does not delay the case further.’

  ‘Can I speak to him for a minute?’

  ‘Non. That is out of the question.’

  ‘Please? I just want to know if he knows where Jules is. You ask him if you prefer.’

  Durand lowered the shield again. ‘Do you know where Madame Saidi is?’

  ‘Julia? No. I haven’t se
en her since…since Wednesday. Why? Where is she? Is she okay?’

  Durand was about to raise the shield again, when Becky pushed forward. ‘Hussein, why did you do it? Why offer a reward and then send a fake ransom note?’

  ‘I was trying to kick-start the investigation. This clown and his team weren’t making any progress so I thought it would refocus their minds, and give the investigation new impetus. Tell Julia I’m -’

  Durand secured the shield and ushered Becky to proceed back along the damp corridor. He led her back to Étienne Lemaire at the counter, and turned to leave.

  ‘Wait. What about, Jules?’

  Durand didn’t stop as he called over his shoulder, ‘I’m sure she’ll turn up.’

  Becky watched him walk back to his office, half expecting him to come back and apologise. He slammed his door instead.

  ‘I guess I’m on my own,’ she muttered.

  Étienne checked that nobody was watching before sliding his contact information across the table. ‘I am working until eight, but if she is not back by then, call me and I will see what I can do to help.’

  Becky thanked him and pocketed the paper. Dense cloud painted the landscape in grey, as she drove back to the hotel. It was humid, but the air was thick with moisture, like the heavens would open at any moment. Becky detested days like this. They weren’t a problem when she was working, but she hated a day’s leave being wasted in such poor conditions.

  The young lady behind reception confirmed no messages had been left for her. She climbed the stairs back to her room with a sense of dread. She took three deep breaths before entering the room. She threw the door open, desperately hoping to see Julia asleep in her bed, but the room looked exactly as it had when she’d returned earlier that morning. Apart from the two suitcases on the floor, you wouldn’t have known anybody was staying in the room.

  She slumped down on the bed and checked her phone. Caleb had sent her half a dozen messages already. Three were about how happy she had made him, one suggested they should move in together, and one suggested they could both sell up and buy something a bit bigger.

  The diamond glistened on her finger. She hadn’t thought about last night’s proposal since she’d left the room. She hadn’t even noticed the additional weight on her finger.

  She could think of dozens of reasons not to marry Caleb, but there were reasons to do it as well. She’d spent so much time thinking why she shouldn’t marry him, that she’d ignored the soothing voice in her head telling her everything would be okay.

  She dropped her phone on the bed and began to strip off. She had one more clean set of clothes in the drawer, which meant she’d either need to go shopping again today, or locate a launderette to get her bag of laundry clean. She headed into the bathroom, making sure the door was closed, to avoid setting off the overly-sensitive smoke alarm in the room. She opened the cubicle, and turned on the taps, allowing the water to run for a moment until it was warm. She stepped into the shower, closed the door and adjusted the temperature until hot water pumped out of the shower head. She welcomed the water as it washed over her head, and down her neck and shoulders. The only way to enhance the experience would have been if she’d had a cigarette, glass of Semillon and a bar of chocolate waiting for her.

  When she’d shampooed and conditioned her hair, she switched off the water and stepped out of the cubicle. She reached for a towel from the rack and wrapped it around her head, before fixing a larger towel around her body. She froze when she saw the mirror.

  A fine mist circulated the room, but there on the mirror, was a two-lined message. She was certain it hadn’t been there before she’d stepped into the shower, and she was certain she hadn’t seen it on any of the previous occasions she’d used the shower.

  Becky’s pulse quickened as she read the six words:

  UNDER YOUR PILLOW.

  DON’T TRUST DURAND.

  It had to be from Julia, but why would she leave a message hidden from normal view? And when had she left it? It had to mean that Julia had returned to the room after the press conference. It explained how her mobile phone had appeared in the room. But where was she now?

  The letters were beginning to merge as the condensation returned to liquid state and ran down the mirror. Becky opened the bathroom door and burst into the bedroom. She tore the blanket from the bed and ran her hands beneath both pillows. She stopped when her fingers scratched something sharp.

  A corner.

  The corner of a piece of paper.

  FIFTY-SEVEN

  She pulled the paper out and unfolded it. She flattened the page on the bed, before sitting next to it. It was written in French.

  Julia didn’t speak a word of French, so the letter had to be from someone else. Becky grabbed her phone and took a photograph of the message, before racing for the door, remembering to grab her key at the last second. She sprinted down the corridor, one hand grasping her phone, the other trying to keep the towel tied around her body. She continued down the stairs and into the reception area.

  She heard gasps as she pushed her way to the front desk and dropped her phone in front of the young lady behind the counter. ‘I need you to translate this urgently.’

  ‘Excusez-moi, Mademoi-’

  ‘Just translate it. Please.’

  The young lady picked up the phone and read the message. ‘It says to bring the reward money to the Phare de Risban and the little boy will be released. It says to come alone and that if the police are informed they will…’ She composed herself. ‘If the police are informed they will kill the little boy.’ Her hands trembled as she handed back the phone.

  ‘What is that? The Phare de Risban: is it a place or -’

  The receptionist gulped. ‘It’s a lighthouse in Dunkerque.’

  ‘In Dunkirk?’

  ‘Oui. It is maybe a forty-five minute drive from here. I can give you directions if -’

  Becky didn’t wait to hear the rest. She charged back up the stairs and into her room. She pulled up the list of recent contacts on her phone and was about to call the gendarmerie when she remembered the message on the mirror: DON’T TRUST DURAND.

  She stiffened.

  Jules must have found the letter after the press conference, and decided to go to the lighthouse to try and rescue Noah. She must have wanted Becky to follow, which is why she left the note under her pillow and the message on the mirror. But why didn’t she trust Durand? Unless…

  She couldn’t finish the thought. Julia had to be at the lighthouse. She pulled off both towels and threw on the jeans and top from the drawer. She spotted and devoured the remaining chocolate. She picked up the car keys, and stopped.

  What was she doing? She couldn’t drive to Dunkirk on a one-woman rescue mission.

  She needed help.

  Caleb was not a man for a crisis. She needed someone with experience of hostile situations.

  Her shoulders tensed at the knock on the door. She tiptoed forward, and pressed her eye up to the small peephole in the door. She didn’t know what she’d expected to see out there, but she’d never been so relieved to see Adie.

  She opened the door and dragged him into the room by the wrist. ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘The signal from Jules’s mobile hasn’t moved in more than twelve hours. My wife is never without her phone, which means she’s either here and bedridden, or…’

  ‘I haven’t seen her since the shopping centre.’

  ‘What happened after you left me at the beach?’

  ‘I was too late for the press conference, so I came back here, but she hadn’t returned. I didn’t stay here last night, but when I returned this morning, her bed hadn’t been slept in.’

  ‘And that’s why you went to the gendarmerie?’

  ‘Wait, how did you -’

  ‘I told you I’d be watching. For a moment I thought you might have told them about me.’

  ‘I promised I wouldn’t.’

  ‘I know. Forgive me, I don’t find it eas
y to trust people.’

  ‘You can trust me.’

  ‘What did the police say about Jules?’

  ‘They weren’t interested.’

  ‘Right, well if we’re going to find her, we need to retrace - ’

  Becky handed him the note. ‘I know where she is. The question is, how are we going to get her back?’

  FIFTY-EIGHT

  An hour later, the satnav announced that the destination was coming up on the left; not that Becky needed to be told. The tall white tower had been visible for several minutes. The Route de l’Écluse Watier was bordered by water to the right, and warehouses to the left. She hadn’t seen another car in five minutes. She drove slowly past the lighthouse, looking for any signs of life or movement, but there were none. The small parking area to the right of the tower was barricaded by a large boat that looked like it was undergoing a makeover. The lighthouse also looked like it was under major reconstruction, surrounded by scaffolding and plastic sheeting, but there wasn’t a hardhat in sight. Becky continued along the road, and around the bend, before turning around and driving back towards the lighthouse. This time she drove past again, but pulled in outside the front of the warehouse on the next plot of land. Large evergreen bushes separated the plots, and Becky parked behind them, in the hope the Twingo wouldn’t be spotted from the lighthouse.

  She opened her door and swung her legs out, but remained seated. She lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply. She promised herself she would attempt to kick the habit again, once this nightmare was over, but for now, the nicotine would help settle her twitching fingers. The light grey clouds hung low, blocking out any traces of blue. A cool breeze was now blowing, and Becky predicted it wouldn’t be long until rain arrived.

  She finished the cigarette, and pulled on her coat, before closing the door, and creeping towards the lighthouse, bending as low as she could manage. She’d left her handbag at the hotel, and her mobile was squashed into the back pocket of her jeans.

  Becky lifted a corner of the plastic sheeting and ducked under it. The entrance to the lighthouse appeared to be through a large wooden door, weathered by time. She leaned into the door, but it didn’t budge. For the first time, Becky doubted that she would find Julia inside. The lighthouse was abandoned, and didn’t look like anybody had stopped by in some time.