by K. L. Slater
But I refused. I need to stay lucid so I’m aware of what’s happening in the search for Grace. Good or bad, I have to know.
It’s dark out now; it would be pitch black if it wasn’t for the street lights, and the press seem to have their own lighting out there, sourced from large white vans.
I wonder if it’s pitch dark where Grace is. My mind offers scenarios, too rapidly for me to stop them. Terrible visions of her struggling to unlock the door of a speeding car, sobbing and imprisoned in some cold, damp place or lying lifeless in a ditch somewhere.
I know I shouldn’t, Blake and DS Bean have both warned me, but I can’t put it off any longer. I pick up my iPad which I slipped down the side of the sofa before Blake could censor it and I open up the BBC news page.
There’s nothing on here about Grace yet, but when I click on the local news tab, there’s a paragraph and a small photograph of a panoramic view of Violet Road.
Local search for missing child
Police are becoming increasingly concerned for a nine-year-old girl who went missing earlier today from Violet Road in West Bridgford, Nottingham. A search is currently under way, organised by local residents.
Grace Sullivan left a friend’s house alone but never arrived home. Grace is around 135–140 cm (just over 4 ft) tall with dark brown hair in a ponytail. She was dressed in bright colours, including a pink coat and a red knitted hat.
Police say Grace is diabetic and requires regular medication to manage her condition.
The last confirmed sighting of her was at the bottom end of Violet Road leading on to Abbey Road.
If you saw Grace on Sunday afternoon between 4:30 and 4:45, or have any information, please contact Nottinghamshire Police.
Comments:
Carolann66 What the hell was a 9-yr-old doing walking home on her own anyway???
Stardust-Girl This is a safe area, maybe the kid’s run away from home for some reason.
Boxing99Fan Why speculate until you know all the facts? Her parents must be desperately worried!
Carolann66 Just saying. My kid didn’t go missing, cos at 9 yo I collected her from her mates’ houses.
I stare at the article and my hands start to shake as if they belong to someone else.
The news report itself is a simple statement of facts, but seeing it on the BBC website makes it feel like someone took a magnifying glass to my pain.
‘Lucie, did you want me to make you…’ Fiona’s eyes alight on the iPad and she steps forward and takes it gently from my hands. ‘Don’t. Don’t do this to yourself.’
‘I should have never let her walk home. I should have—’
‘What happened to Grace is not your fault, Lucie,’ she says softly.
‘That’s not what they’re saying. They’re saying…’
Fiona shakes her head.
‘They, whoever they are, don’t know anything about you or your family. It’s just trolls, trying to extract a reaction. They don’t deserve to take up a second of your time.’
I get to my feet. ‘I’m just popping upstairs to freshen up.’
It doesn’t matter how many times she tells me it’s not my fault, I know I had the final decision about whether Grace was allowed to walk home. Blake might have pushed for it, but he also deferred to me each time it came up.
My own insecurities from the period when I hardly dared to go out definitely played their part in me agreeing to it. I never wanted my daughter to feel like that.
Now she may never get the chance.
I shake my head against the horror. Four hours she’s been gone, just four hours. If forty-eight hours is the key deadline, then we still have time, don’t we? Time to find Grace.
Everybody – the police and the local community – is working to cover all the obvious things that need to be taken care of, like door-to-door inquiries and a local search. But surely I can add value by focusing on thinking outside the box. We spend so much time together; I know my daughter best out of anyone. Better than Blake, even.
I can make a difference, I know it. I just have to do something, instead of sitting around waiting for others to make a breakthrough.
I climb the stairs quietly so as not to disturb Dad and Oscar, and enter Grace’s bedroom, renewed hope sparking in my heart.
Running along the back gardens of the houses on Violet Road is a narrow track. It’s a sort of no-man’s-land between our homes and the back gardens of the houses on the next street. Nobody even seems sure who the strip belongs to.
The only people who really use it are kids playing chase, or dog walkers after a shortcut back home from the park. In any case, unless you’re local, you wouldn’t know about it.
I stand at Grace’s window now, staring down there. I can’t see the actual pathway in the dark, and there are no lights illuminating it except for the odd few seconds when someone’s outdoor sensor light flickers on.
Still, it’s the perfect way to get out of the house without the press knowing.
I start at the sound of footsteps on the stairs, and a few seconds later, Blake walks into the room and stands behind me at the window, his hands on my shoulders.
‘You can’t torture yourself like this, Luce. Come downstairs. Please.’
He’s hurting just like I am, I know he is. But he sounds so calm and logical. I could easily lose it and turn on him right now, accusing him of lying to me and not caring enough about Grace.
I know this is not a game of one-upmanship, and yet I’m really struggling to comprehend how he can remain so calm. Surely, if he’s so calm, he can’t be feeling as bad as I do; as if part of me has been ripped away.
‘I asked you a question before, Blake,’ I say, keeping my voice level and low to evade Fiona’s ever-listening ears. ‘I asked you if you were keeping anything from me, and you said no.’
‘Not this again,’ he groans. ‘I told you, didn’t I? There’s nothing—’
‘I know,’ I say simply. ‘About all that cash in your desk.’
‘What?’
I turn to face him. I can see the colour draining from his cheeks even in this dim light.
‘Why did you go in my… It’s not what you think.’
‘Then what is it? Why is there fifty grand or more hidden in your office? What if we’d been burgled? Whose is it?’
‘I can’t discuss it now.’ His voice drops to a whisper. ‘I’ll explain everything to you. I will.’
‘When, exactly?’
‘Soon. It would be gone already if… if Grace hadn’t gone missing. I can’t do much with the police watching my every move.’
A weight settles on my chest as my suspicions are confirmed. ‘Obviously it’s not kosher, then. If you don’t want the police to know, that says it all.’
‘Shh!’ He looks around furtively at the door. ‘Give me the benefit of the doubt this once, Lucie, please. I will explain, I promise.’
‘Does Barbara Charterhouse know about this?’
‘What?’ He frowns and shakes his head. ‘No, of course not. Why do you say that?’
‘Because this morning she said you operate behind a facade that some people can’t see through.’
He looks at me as if I’m crazy.
‘If you start to believe anything she tells you, then we really are done for.’
I’m furious he won’t tell me, and also terrified why that might be.
‘Could this… the money… have anything to do with someone taking Grace?’ I fix my gaze on his. ‘Is someone blackmailing you, or out for revenge? Some people would do anything to get their hands on a sum like that.’
He gives a mirthless laugh. ‘No, is the short answer. Look, Lucie, this is ridiculous, can we just stop—’
‘Because if there’s the slightest, tiniest chance that might be the case, then you need to tell the police, regardless of your reputation.’
‘I said no,’ he says stubbornly. ‘I can’t believe you’re even thinking this stuff.’
‘I’m going out,’
I say, making a massive effort to keep my voice level. ‘You can come with me, or not. Up to you.’
‘What?’ He stares at me as if I’ve lost my marbles. ‘Out where, exactly?’
‘I’m going to sneak out of the back garden and use the track to get down to Bev and Mike’s house.’
Blake swallows. ‘But why? What good will that do?’
‘It can’t do any harm. I feel I know nothing about today, about exactly what happened. I want them to talk me through every single minute of the day from when Mike picked Grace up to go to Alton Towers right up until the moment she opened their front door and he watched her walk up the street.’
Blake sighs and runs his fingers through his hair.
‘The detectives will already have asked them all that stuff, Luce. We’re better off staying here, surely. For when there’s any news.’
‘The police will know where to find us. I can’t sit here and do nothing any more, Blake. I just can’t.’
I know my husband well, but the expression on his face right now is hard to identify.
‘Leave it, Lucie. Please. Don’t go round there.’
‘Why on earth not? They were the last people to see Grace.’
‘I just don’t think you should—’
‘I don’t need your permission to talk to Bev and Mike!’ I snap at him. ‘Why are you so adamant they can’t add anything to what we know?’
His cheeks flush slightly but he holds his ground.
‘You’re trying to control everything and you’ll just end up making it worse, can’t you see that? We have to let the police drive the investigation.’
I can’t stop my voice rising. ‘No! They’re so tied up in red tape with all their boxes to tick, but we’re not. Can’t you see that?’
He looks at me blankly, and I turn away from him.
‘Fine. Well I’m doing this with or without you, so please yourself.’
I march from the room.
‘You might make everything worse,’ I hear him cry out, but I don’t stop walking.
Twenty-Five
I grab my coat from the hall cupboard and push my feet into my flat ankle boots.
Fiona looks up from her laptop screen. She’s taken over the breakfast bar; paperwork is strewn across the whole surface. I spot a Hello! magazine poking out from under a sheaf of documentation.
‘Everything all right?’ she asks lightly.
I pause a second, giving her stupid question some space.
‘Fine.’ She’s probably been skulking around at the bottom of the stairs, listening to our disagreement. ‘I’m popping down to Bev and Mike’s house. I’ll go the back way, so I don’t have to speak to the press. If Dad asks, can you tell him where I’ve gone?’
I walk across the room and reach for the door handle.
‘If you don’t mind me asking, is there any particular reason why you’re going down there?’ She slides from the bar stool and laces her fingers in front of her.
I feel like a pressure cooker about to blow. I’d like to yell that yes, I bloody well do mind her asking. I know she’s just doing her job, but I can’t shake the feeling she’s here to spy more than support us.
Still, I also feel it’s in my interests to maintain a stable demeanour, no matter how pent up I feel inside. Otherwise nobody will take me seriously and Blake will start trying to push Dr Mahmoud’s medication on me again. So I tell her the truth.
‘It’s just I feel like I don’t know everything about what happened today. I didn’t get a chance to talk about their trip to Alton Towers, or how Grace seemed to them today.’
‘I think the detectives have already covered that,’ Fiona offers. ‘I could ask DI Pearlman to go through what was said, if you like?’
‘Thanks, but I’d rather hear it for myself. We’re all good friends and I’d feel better for seeing them,’ I say tightly. ‘Obviously we haven’t had a chance to talk properly at all about what happened yet.’
A noise at the doorway makes me turn.
‘Don’t worry, I’ll go with her.’ Blake exchanges a look with Fiona.
Why do I feel like the outsider here? Surely it should be Blake and I who are tight together, and yet all of a sudden he seems to be the police’s best mate.
‘I’m perfectly fine speaking to our friends on my own.’ I turn the door handle and step out into the chilly night air.
The cloud cover is too thick to see any stars tonight. Grace loves to stand at her window before bedtime to spot the North Star, since my dad told her it watches over her every night to keep her safe. Where is the North Star now? I wonder. I hope wherever Grace is, she can see it.
I hear Blake step out of the house behind me and close the back door.
‘Why don’t you stay here,’ I say without turning around. ‘In case there’s news.’
He wraps his arms around me and places his chin on the top of my head. I stand stock still.
‘I know you’re hurting, Luce. We all are.’
Hurting? I’m dying. Dying inside.
‘I don’t want you getting yourself in a state, that’s all,’ Blake continues. ‘I can speak to Mike and Bev, ask them to—’
‘I can’t stop you coming, but I have to do this myself,’ I say curtly. ‘I can’t sit in the house a moment longer, just waiting and waiting for news that never comes.’
‘I hear you,’ he says, sounding beaten.
We walk down our long, narrow garden. Even though it’s a few days since we had rain, the ground feels marshy under my feet. When we get to the bottom, we both turn on the torch function on our phones and inch sideways, past Grace’s trampoline and through the slim space where our hedge meets Jeffery’s fence next door.
I glance back at Jeffery’s house. There’s a light on in his kitchen. I can’t see anything clearly because the blind is pulled down but a shadowy figure is moving around in there.
Out on the track, the hard earth is muddy in places. I lead the way and Blake follows. It’s quiet out here, with nobody in their gardens now that dark has fallen. It’s eerie, even though the light from my phone illuminates a good chunk of ground in front of me.
‘This all feels a bit cloak-and-dagger,’ Blake grumbles behind me.
I ignore him, but it does feel spooky. Wherever Grace is, I hope she’s not alone in the dark.
Five minutes later, we arrive at the end of Bev and Mike’s back garden.
‘Perhaps we should have warned them we were coming,’ Blake whispers as I push open the wooden gate in their fence.
Bev and I are always popping into each other’s houses at the weekend. I don’t see why this should be any different.
Their garden is the same length as ours, and we gingerly pick our way up the path strewn with overgrown weeds. Like our own, the lawn, when my feet catch it, feels unpleasantly marshy. I wait for an outside light sensor to kick in, but the garden remains dark, so I keep my phone torch lit up.
Ahead of us, the kitchen unit lights are on and the room is bathed in a soft light. At the other side of the house, large French doors in the dark open-plan dining area provide a view through to the illuminated lounge at the front.
As we near the house, I see that Bev and Mike are in the kitchen. The door is closed, and they’re standing facing each other, side-on to the window. Something in the way they are standing – too close and with concerned expressions – makes me feel uncomfortable.
I stop walking and whisper to Blake, ‘They look worried about something, don’t you think?’
‘I’m sure they’re worried about Grace’s whereabouts, Lucie, like everyone is.’
‘Yes, but…’ I let my words trail away. I feel like Blake is ready to shoot down anything I say.
They look angry at each other, is what I want to say. They do. I recognise it in Bev especially. She’s frowning and seems to be the one saying the most.
I start walking again. We’re only a few paces away from the kitchen window now, and the back door.
Bev i
s a good friend, a good mother to Olivia. It’s her arms I want to feel around me; she will at least understand on some level how Grace’s absence is truly killing me.
I’m still staring when, without warning, her hand suddenly shoots out and she slaps Mike across the face.
‘Shit!’ Blake hisses behind me. ‘Lucie… come on, we can’t go in there now. Let’s go back home.’
Mike’s own hand flies to his stung cheek and he steps towards Bev, his face assuming a mask of fury that makes my knees feel wobbly. In all the time we’ve known him, I’ve never seen him so angry. He’s like a completely different person.
I make a half-turn, ready to leave. But then Bev and Mike must see the flashlights from our phones, because Bev’s mouth falls open and her hand moves up to cover it.
I’m standing still in shock, not sure what to do, when the back door flies open and Mike is there.
Twenty-Six
‘Lucie, Blake… is everything OK?’ He clears his throat and looks from Blake to me. ‘Have they found her? Is Grace back home?’
‘No, not yet,’ I say quietly. ‘Look, Mike, I’m sorry to just turn up like this out of the blue. I just needed to speak to you and Bev. I…’
The tears take me by surprise. My cheeks are wet and my nose is running.
‘Come in. Come on.’ He steps outside in his slippers and puts his arm around my shoulders.
When I go inside, Bev is waiting there for me.
‘I’m sorry,’ I sniff. ‘Disturbing you like this.’
‘Don’t be silly. We wanted to come over but didn’t want to intrude when it’s all so raw. Come through to the living room.’ She glares at Mike. ‘Do you think you could make some tea?’
‘Course,’ he replies, his tone thick with sarcasm.
To my surprise, Blake doesn’t stay with Mike in the kitchen, but comes into the lounge with us. Olivia is sitting on the settee in her pyjamas, watching television. I want to question her, ask if Grace said anything about calling somewhere on the way home. She looks at me warily. I think I’m staring.
