SNATCHED BAIRN: Scottish Fiction

by Anne Bone

  He shook his head, taking a large swallow of his strong coffee before he answered. ‘No, Boss, nothing. The tv and radio have been running the story all day, but nothing… not a sausage. Not even the usual daft time wasters. I’ve got three of the team sitting in front of three very quiet phones… waiting, but nothing.’ He ran his hand through his thick hair, something that he did when he was thinking hard.

  Jane nodded, ‘God, this is terrible, we are now thirty hours in, and not a bloody thing. She wrung her hands, trying to ease the stiffness in them, a sign to her that the tension throughout her body was taking effect, ‘A child cannot just disappear. How’s the mum holding up?’

  ‘Badly, from what Diane has said. She called the GP out and he has given her something to knock her out. She lost it apparently this afternoon, started to go hysterical. Can’t blame her can you?’

  ‘Right, well no, it’s every parent’s worst nightmare. But are we absolutely sure she is not involved in any way?’

  ‘We have delved into her past and everything she told us seems to pan out. Quiet family, did well at school, and came to Aberdeen to go to college. It’s not generally known about Marcus Davidson, but her neighbours have confirmed that there appears to be only the one visitor to her flat, and from the description it would fit him to a tee.’

  ‘When is he supposed to appear back from his so-called overseas business trip then?’

  ‘Due back on Friday, according to his secretary, who seemed very interested and surprised that we were enquiring about him. No doubt, he will know by now that we have been asking for his whereabouts.’

  Jane took a deep breath, ‘So tomorrow morning we will meet at seven with the team to look at what we have, or haven’t, as it seems more the case. Come on Dave, someone must have her; and the search in the area today brought nothing? Someone has got to know something, they always do. However, tonight you need to go and get some kip, you are exhausted and will be no damn good at all if you can’t focus. So go home.’ She stood up and walked around the desk and tapped him on his shoulder, ‘I have permission from the boss that we can second some more officers to the team, so Callum Bond will take over the night shift. He’s a sensible bloke and will call if there is any news. So come on, off you go.’

  Dave Rogers was relieved; he was, if he was being honest, finding it hard to focus. He could do one night without any kip, but two was just too much. While he wanted to remain here in the midst of the enquiry he also knew he had to get some rest. He would need a large nip of Scotch though, as even though he was knackered, he was wound up. At least he had access to the canteen to eat before he left, as living on his own meant there was very little in his cupboards.

  He left the office, leaving Jane to continue to contemplate the case. She felt uneasy about this, something wasn’t right. Most missing children were found quickly, she knew that, so every hour and day they were missing meant that foul play was involved.

  Apart from the odd short period of a child being missing, and then quickly found, she had only had one previous experience of a lengthy search. That was different though, as initially the mother didn’t know they had been taken. Beth Paton had been the young mother whose own father had sold her children to a couple. She had been told by her worthless piece of a father they had been adopted, but they hadn’t. She hadn’t known that but once she had found out that they had never been adopted a national search had taken place. Jane was just a DC then and she and her partner had been the two police officers who had taken it on. The children were eventually traced in Spain, and found by Beth and Marty Paton. What a day that was when they were found and returned. She just hoped that there would be a similar outcome to returning wee Mary to her mum.

  There was one thing Jane could do, and that was to try and get some support for Jenni, from someone who could truly understand what it was like to have a child missing. In fact, that person also headed up a charity that she established just for this purpose. Jane reached across the desk and dialled the number of the Stolen Children Trust. She heard the phone ring out and when it was answered she heard her dear friend, Beth Paton, say, ‘Stolen Children Trust, how can we help?’

  ‘Beth, it’s me, Jane. You probably know why I am calling, and sadly I think there is a mum who needs your help.’

  Chapter 7

  Malaga, Spain – Wednesday 12th September 1984

  Marcus was enjoying his last couple of days in the sun. The Plaza Palace had come up to his expectations, providing the right level of luxury for him to undertake the business he had set out to complete. Marcus liked luxury; he had become used to having whatever he desired.

  While he slouched on the comfortable sun bed by the sparkling pool, he found his mind wandering, thinking about his life and how he had got where he had. He hadn’t had the best start to his life: his parents had struggled to provide him with the best that they could afford. They had gone through the war years. His father, however, had used these years to begin the business that Marcus, their only child, was to go on to inherit.

  Marcus smiled to himself when he remembered how his father had shown him how to manage the company finances in a canny way. His father had not been well educated, but he was a clever man, who had shown how to diversify and as he put it ‘have many fingers in many pies’. He also taught how fingers should never get stuck in the pies that brought trouble. When Marcus was twenty-one years old his father was diagnosed as being terminally ill. One thing that Jock Davidson couldn’t control or extricate himself from was the cancer that eventually ate away at his body. He did, however, ensure that he had trained his son well, and so when he gasped his last breath, he did so knowing that he had passed on all the skills and knowledge he had gained.

  Although some people would consider that illegal abilities could not be considered as a particularly honourable legacy to pass to your child, Marcus had been fortunate, as now thirty-one years later his business was sound. Hence this trip to Spain, where he had successfully negotiated purchasing shares in a new club. This would enable him to be able to move and, hopefully, hide money, some of which he needed to move about and, more importantly, out of Scotland. Marcus considered himself not only knowledgeable but also lucky, as over the years he had built a network of people whom he could trust, and he knew that whatever happened he could rely on them to keep him clear of the wrong side of a prison cell. He had, over the years, been taken to the police station to be interviewed, mostly when something went wrong with the distribution part of his empire. There were occasions when he hadn’t asked the right questions regarding the purchase of goods, and had taken them on face value to sell on to make a fast profit. The police had never been able to pin anything on him. Thankfully his best friend and accountant, Jeff, was very careful in his accounting and nothing showed up. Neither had he ever had any stolen goods found on his premises when the police had come looking. It was on Jeff’s advice that he had made contact with these European business men, who had welcomed his money to invest in the new club.

  As these thoughts filtered through his mind, his eyes focused on the woman who was floating in the pool. Her eyes were protected by her large round sunglasses, so he couldn’t see whether she was returning or acknowledging his stare. Veronica. His wife, who had supported him for the past twenty-six years, and who he still cared for, but no longer loved. Veronica was more than the loyal wife, she also held a vice around him, one that ensured that he remained in the marriage and behaved as a steadfast husband should. She asked few questions as long as he provided what she required. She had an account with E&M’s, the most prestige store in Aberdeen, and that allowed her to purchase whatever she chose. His wife, who was admired by his business associates, was always stylish and well groomed, and she would no doubt be considered one of, if not the most striking women in Aberdeen.

  He watched as Veronica glided through the water, just as she glided through their six-bedroom detached house in the west end of Aberdeen. He respected her ability to provide a stress-free ho
me, where she most certainly reigned as the queen. She had a good eye for design and, without any financial restrictions, had created not only a modern home environment but one in which The Scots Magazine had been interested in featuring. Veronica had been furious, as this was the one time where Marcus had put his foot down; he had his reasons to keep the press at a distance in terms of his private life. There was no way he wanted photographs featuring him and Veronica languishing on a sofa so that people could feast their eyes over a magazine; there were some eyes he needed to keep at a distance. He had suffered for this decision, and there was no doubt the new BMW convertible was seen as the payment that had been necessary to return the house to peace again and put a smile back onto Veronica’s face.

  Now she was smiling as she climbed out of the pool and walked elegantly towards him, the water evaporating from her body as she moved. By the time she reached him and settled herself down on the adjoining sun bed, her skin was almost dry.

  ‘I think it’s about time we considered some lunch darling,’ she murmured while she patted the damp parts of her skin. She liked to look after her skin and while she loved feeling the sun on her body, she didn’t like to imagine the damage it was doing to her.

  ‘Yes. What do you fancy then?… we could eat on the balcony if you wish, just so we can enjoy the view.’ Marcus had insisted that their suite of rooms overlooked the glistening Mediterranean Sea.

  ‘Yes that would be nice, just give me a couple of minutes to dry off and we can go and order. I wonder whether Tom and Kim are back yet.’ Tom their oldest son and his fiancée, Kim, had joined them on this trip and had gone out this morning on a shopping trip.

  ‘Haven’t seen them, and if I know Kim she will still be dragging Tom through all the designer shops. He’ll no doubt be ready for a large beer when he gets back.’ Marcus stood up and stretched his back placing his hands on each side of his now expanding waist, he circled his hips to lessen the stiffness that had settled since he had been lying on the sunbed, ‘I’ll go on ahead and arrange for a menu to be sent up to the room. See you in a minute.’

  Veronica watched him go; she couldn’t help but admire him, the man she had married more than quarter of a century ago. Even though he had spread around the waist, he still had his figure; it was just a little less firm. His dark hair was still thick, and she was sure he had less laughter lines on his face, than she did. She didn’t think this was fair, given all the pounds she spent on the purchase of expensive anti-wrinkle creams, as well as the regular visits to the beauty salon, and there was her husband who seemed to take no care at all, apart from splashing after shave on his face.

  Marcus strode off towards the hotel reception to ask for today’s menu. Before he had a chance to ask for the menu, the receptionist advised him that there was a message waiting for him, she passed a note across the desk. Marcus glanced at the message; it was from Joan his secretary, requesting that he phone her, urgently.

  He nodded and thanked the receptionist, and made his way to the lift that carried him to the fifth floor suite of rooms. He lost no time in reaching for the hotel phone to ask them to connect him with the number in Aberdeen. Marcus knew is secretary would never interrupt his time away unless it really was urgent.

  The phone was answered after the third ring, ‘good Afternoon, Davidson Holdings, how can I help?’

  ‘It’s me Joan, got your message what’s up?’

  ‘Oh Marcus, thank goodness, sorry I know you don’t like to be disturbed.’ She drew breath, ‘But I thought you needed to know this as soon as possible. We had a visit from the Police this morning, they want to speak to you’…….she drew another deep breath before she continued……’it’s in connection with the missing child.’

  Marcus drew breath and felt as though someone had just walked over his grave, ‘what missing child?’

  ‘A little nine year old girl called Mary Dinnet,’ as Joan said the words she heard the intake of breath, was expecting it, as she knew that as soon as she said the child’s name that Marcus would recognise the name. Joan was well aware of many of Marcus’s secrets even though he did not realise she knew of them.

  ‘Missing, what do you mean missing Joan, tell me.’

  ‘It’s been all over the news and papers here Marcus, I wondered whether you would have seen the papers, but seems she didn’t come home from school on Monday. She slowed her speech, knowing that he wasn’t going to like the next piece of information that she was going to impart, ‘They are still searching for her, and apparently the police want to speak to you, as you apparently know her mother?’

  Marcus coughed but didn’t confirm or deny this. ‘So tell me what did you say to the police?’

  ‘That you would be back on Friday; so they asked me to inform you that they wish for you to call them as soon as you reach Aberdeen, they need to speak to you apparently.’

  ‘Thank You Joan, I will do so. Please ensure that you don’t mention this to anyone else in the office, or to anyone else outside either, I know I can rely on your discretion. I will be in touch about my return. Is everything else okay?’

  When she confirmed that everything else was just fine he hung up. He could have been knocked off his feet when he had heard that Mary was missing, he should have been informed. Jeff, why hadn’t his best friend and closest confident let him know. Then he realised that Jeff too was out of the country on a Cruise, no one else would know his connection with Mary.

  Now he knew he needed to make another call, but this was curtailed as the door opened and Veronica entered. ‘What’s up with you, you look worried.’ She asked.

  ‘I just had a call from Joan, some issues about the club, so I might just have to get an earlier flight’ he said.

  ‘Oh for goodness sake Marcus, its Wednesday,’ she couldn’t believe it the bloody club was still interfering in their time away, ‘we only have two days to go and we will be home, surely whatever it is, your manager can cope until then.’

  He nodded, although his mind was already back in the Aberdeen, and glancing at his watch he realised he would have to wait until the coast was clear before he was able to make the next call.

  Over lunch Veronica watched her husband, she knew immediately he was hiding something, her senses were well trained in picking up when she was being fed a line. She also knew better than to question him knowing full well that it would get her nowhere, and would only assist in irritating him.

  Just as they were finishing the delicate grilled fish and salad, the door opened to reveal a pretty young woman laden down with shopping bags depicting names of designer shops. Kim, their future daughter-in-law had a successful smile plastered across her face. Clearly she had enjoyed the shopping trip, although this wasn’t evident by the face of Tom who followed her into the room, his had a bored but resigned look on it.

  ‘You look as though you have had a successful morning Kim,’ noted Veronica, smiling at the girl who she had become very fond of over the eighteen months since they had started dating.

  ‘I most certainly have, now I am ready for a swim and a lie down. It’s so hot out there.’ She plonked herself down on a chair beside Veronica who poured her a large glass of water.

  Tom followed in her wake, flopping down onto the chair; he nodded when his father offered him a beer. As he took the glass from his father, he handed him a newspaper, ‘I picked this up when we were out, its yesterdays of course, but see the headlines, a little girl has gone missing from Aberdeen.’

  Marcus took the copy of The Daily Record, and moved further into the room where he sat on the sofa. He read the details and felt his heart miss a beat, as there staring out of the front page was a photo, the most recent one of his secret child.

  Chapter 8

  Aberdeen

  Two days. It was only two days since she held her little girl, it felt more like two weeks. She felt exhausted yet couldn’t rest, she found herself pacing backwards and forwards around the flat like a stressed lioness. She was fed up with drinking te
a and coffee, she felt that if she consumed any more she would burst. Her stomach felt as though it was swollen, yet she knew the rumblings were more to do with it screaming out for food. Something she couldn’t contemplate, every crumb of food felt like jagged pieces of wood chips, it hurt her mouth to put it in, and if she did manage to swallow any, it returned soon after.

  Diane Crombie was feeling quite overwhelmed, she could see how agitated and distressed this young mum was, but could do absolutely nothing to take away any of the pain. She glanced at Christine, who looked as though she was having the same thoughts. Christine had been marvellous, she had managed to calm Jenni down when her distress became such that it rendered her hysterical. Doctor Jameson had been called the previous evening and had given Jenni a shot of something that had allowed her body to get some rest even if it hadn’t provided any respite for her mind. He was due to visit again later, although Diane doubted that any medication would not allow this woman to feel any sense of relief until there was news of her daughter.

  The television was back on; Jenni sat down still and poised for the moment waiting for the news. As it was now forty-eight hours since the last sighting of Mary, all the news channels were carrying the story. Somehow Jenni seemed to think that she would hear something on the news, when of course she would hear any news herself first rather than the press.

  Just as the six o’clock news was about the start the phone started to ring. Jenni jumped up, but was cautioned by Diane who reminded her that any calls would be taken by her. They were all warned that the press might easily have got hold of the number and would start to call. So they had agreed that Diane would sift the calls, to be fair the phone only occasionally rang, usually it was one of Jenni’s friends checking out whether they could help.

  Jenni sat on the edge of the sofa, listening to the phone being answered. She waited until Diane returned to the sitting room, ‘it’s for you Jenni, its Marcus.’