Her Missing Daughter: A Gripping Psychological Thriller

by D. S. Butler

  Angie picked up her cup, and it rattled against the saucer. She looked over her shoulder nervously. An odd thing to do in her own home. “I’m sorry, Abbie. I was upset. I shouldn’t have called you like that, but I didn’t know who else to trust.”

  I sat forward in the chair eager for her to continue.

  “The trouble is, I don’t have anything concrete to tell you. I talked it over with my husband, and he thinks I’m being ridiculous.”

  “You don’t strike me as the ridiculous type,” I said and meant it. Nicole had described Angie as a stern, no-nonsense woman with a heart of gold.

  Angie smiled. “I think in times of stress it’s easy to let your imagination run riot. She was such a good, kind woman.”

  I caught my breath as tears pricked my eyes. “She was.”

  Angie took a sip of her tea, and I reached out for mine. “Why did you feel there was no one you could trust?”

  “Nicole had been acting strangely in the week leading up to her death,” Angie said. “She was nervous. She didn’t want to go walking with Charlie on her own and had started to let him run around the garden instead, playing fetch. It was very unlike her. When Steve was away, she was paranoid about making sure all the windows and doors were locked. She got very upset when I’d opened a downstairs window one morning.” Angie shook her head and looked down at her lap. “But it was July and stifling.”

  “Have you told the police about this?”

  Angie huffed and raised her eyes heavenward. “I have but I don’t think they’ve done anything about it. I don’t know why she was scared, so I suppose my telling the police about it wasn’t really very helpful. When I mentioned it to Steve, he got very angry and said I was gossiping.” Angie’s face tightened. “I would never do that.”

  The sun was streaming in through the window behind me, and I could see tiny motes of dust floating in the air. The clock on the mantelpiece ticked steadily as I tried to work out what to say to Angie. “I expect Steve was just upset and lashing out.”

  Angie gave me a grim smile. “You’re probably right, but it was hurtful, and because Nicole’s mother was in such a state, I didn’t feel like I could confide in her. And you know what Nicole’s sister is like. I didn’t think anyone would take me seriously, but I knew how close you’d been to Nicole. I thought if anyone would listen to me, you would. Of course, I’d managed to convince myself that whatever Nicole was so scared of may be behind Sienna’s disappearance, too.”

  “I’m glad you called me. I think you’re right. If the police discover why Nicole was so scared, they might find her killer faster.”

  I finished my tea and put the cup on the table. “When did Nicole’s strange behaviour start?”

  “A week ago.”

  We both looked up as we heard the back door open. Angie patted her hair and straightened in her seat self-consciously.

  Through the open door, I could see Angie’s husband in the hallway removing his boots. He had a shock of white hair and wore baggy denim dungarees and a white vest beneath. His shoulders were tinged pink from the sun.

  He saw me, smiled and ambled into the living room on his crutches. “I didn’t know we had a visitor!”

  He reached out and I shook his hand.

  “This is Abbie Morris,” Angie said and licked her lips. “She was a friend of Nicole’s.”

  The smile slid from the man’s face, and he dropped my hand like a stone.

  “We talked about this, Angie. You’re making a mountain out of a molehill. I don’t want you involved in this business.”

  “Don’t make a scene, Jock,” Angie said. “The young lady just stopped by for a cup of tea, that’s all.”

  “Yes, thank you for the tea, Angie. I’d better get going.” I stood up and then Angie led me to the front door.

  Jock scowled after us.

  “Don’t worry about him,” Angie said. “He worries about me, that’s all.”

  I smiled and squeezed her hand. “Thank you for the tea. Talk soon.”

  I walked to my car and thought Jock was probably right to be worried. It was starting to look like Angie had been working for a killer.

  Chapter Fourteen

  I left Angie’s and headed straight back to the hotel. After taking a shower, I felt human again. The air had become progressively more humid through the morning, and I suspected a storm would hit later this afternoon.

  I checked my messages only to find I had nothing from Sienna. I replied to an admin email telling me a temporary helper was being sent out to Rich Michaels. I’d completely forgotten about it. My job seemed to be another world away.

  I spent half an hour on the phone trying to speak to an officer related to Nicole and Sienna’s cases. All I wanted to do was make sure they were still putting pressure on Zach Ryan to talk. I was sure he knew more about Sienna’s whereabouts than he was letting on. Although Janet had promised to let the family liaison officer know my suspicions, I didn’t trust her. I knew she was scornful of my attempts to help. I couldn’t really blame her for that. But I couldn’t rest until I knew the police would focus again on Zach.

  I was transferred to four different people before I finally reached somebody who made a note of Zack’s name and promised to get back to me.

  After that I went down to the hotel bar and ordered a prawn mayo sandwich. I picked at it as I thought over what Angie had told me. Why had Nicole been so scared? She hadn’t mentioned it to me and I had spoken to her multiple times over the last few weeks. I tried to think back. Had I noticed anything? The awful truth was I had been too wrapped up in my own issues to be a good friend.

  I was tempted to order a gin and tonic to go with my sandwich but knew I’d regret it if I needed to drive somewhere later. I couldn’t stay in the hotel all afternoon and evening. It would drive me crazy.

  After lunch, I decided to go to Finchampstead. I thought I’d check out the Memorial Hall and the drama classes that were being held there. They weren’t running today, but I might find someone willing to talk to me. There was usually something going on at the Memorial Hall, and if that failed, there was the local garage opposite. The petrol station had a small shop and an MOT garage, and the people that owned it had worked there for years. They might know something. At the very least, they might be able to tell me where Jason Owens, Sienna’s teacher, lived.

  It didn’t take me long to drive to Finchampstead. The Memorial Hall hadn’t changed in the time I’d been away. Finchampstead was a typically English village and would have been the perfect setting for a murder mystery. The hall was constructed in the sixties, before I was born, and was next to a large park and a cricket club. It was hard to see how it could have been any more English.

  I parked at the front of the hall and then walked across to the entrance to investigate. I could hear children playing in the park, their shouts and laughter carrying all the way across the field.

  The sky was getting darker now but it was still so hot. Wasps flew in drunken loops over the bonnet of my car, scavenging the splattered insects. They made my skin crawl.

  Inside the hall it wasn’t that much cooler. There was a meeting going on, a mums and toddlers group. People were just packing up to leave as I entered. I looked at the noticeboard beside the door, and the poster advertising the drama class caught my eye. It was printed in brightly coloured ink. I shuffled out of the way as a group of mums leading excitable two- and three-year-olds started to leave the hall.

  One of the mums, a short plump woman with frizzy hair, smiled at me. “Sorry, you’re a bit too old for that class.” She winked at me and pointed at the notice. “That Mr Owens is enough to make me wish I was back at school, though.” She gave a throaty chuckle and tried to herd the two young children in front of her.

  “Do you know him?” I asked.

  She turned back to me, seemingly surprised at my question. “Oh, are you looking for him?”

  One of the children tugged at her hand. “Swings, Mummy.”

  “
Yes,” I said, but didn’t elaborate further. I didn’t want to go into details here.

  She stepped to the side to let others go past. “He lives at number ten. The thatched cottage, opposite the school.”

  “Great, thanks.”

  She followed me out. “His great aunt left him the house. It must be worth a fortune. There’s no way he could afford it on a teacher’s salary.”

  She continued to chat about house prices as we walked through the car park and finally gave me a wave as she and the children headed off towards the park.

  I had a dilemma. Could I just turn up on Jason Owens’s doorstep? Or would that be a bit strange?

  I ran a hand through my hair, which felt limp and damp from the heat. Crossing over to the petrol station, I bought myself a bottle of water and decided to leave the car at the Memorial Hall car park and walk towards the primary school.

  Finchampstead was a pretty village. Coming back now, I could view it with fresh eyes. I’d taken it for granted growing up. I walked past the perfectly cut green playing fields and the cricket ground at the back of the park and walked towards the school.

  The size of the school made me smile. It looked so tiny now. It had seemed huge and scary when I was there. Directly opposite the school, was a large thatched cottage. As children we used to whisper that it was haunted, and it was easy to see why. The large, heavy thatch hung down low, creating mysterious shadows. Its windows were small and looked like they were dark eyes staring at me.

  I shivered at my fanciful thoughts and kept walking. The front garden was beautiful. A colourful array of flowers blossomed in every corner. Impressive this late in the summer. There were delphiniums, lupins and hollyhocks — a perfect country garden. From a few feet away, I smelled the warm, sweet scent of roses mingled with pungent lavender.

  I was almost at the gate when a movement in the garden made me pause. A tall dark-haired man, wearing a navy blue polo shirt and dark jeans was deadheading the roses. It had to be Jason Owens. He hadn’t yet spotted me so I took the opportunity to study him unobserved. He had smooth, tanned skin and a strong jaw, a perfect example of tall, dark and handsome. He was extremely good-looking in a clean, preppy kind of way.

  As though he felt my eyes on him, he stopped, his hands fell to his sides, and he raised his head and smiled. The kind of smile I imagined could melt dozens of teenage hearts.

  I half lifted my hand in a greeting. “Hello, Mr Owens?”

  “That’s right.” He put the secateurs in the back pocket of his jeans and walked towards me, brushing his hands together.

  “I’m sorry to disturb your gardening. My name is Abbie Morris, and I hoped you might have time for a chat.”

  He gave me another winning smile. “Of course, how can I help?”

  “I’m Sienna James’s godmother.” I hesitated wondering how to phrase my question.

  “Oh, the poor kid,” he said. “Is there any news? Have they found her?”

  I shook my head. “Not yet.”

  “Where are my manners? Come inside. We can chat out of this heat.”

  I followed him along the garden path and into the house. My eyes blinked into the gloom. The ceiling was low with dark beams, and the small windows were leaded and didn’t let in much light.

  “Have a seat,” he said pointing to a floral, overstuffed armchair. It wasn’t the kind of furniture I imagined a single, thirty-something man would buy himself, so I guessed he’d inherited the furniture from his great aunt along with the house.

  “I’ll get some drinks. Something cold?”

  “That would be great.”

  “I’ve got Coke, bottled water or ice tea.”

  “I’d love a Coke.”

  He left me sitting in the living room. Every surface seemed to be covered by ornaments. Every wall covered by small paintings and photographs. There was a large fireplace, surrounded by brass horseshoes. Above it, an antique rifle was hung on the wall. As my eyes slowly took in the circuit of the room, they stopped and widened at the object sitting opposite me. A craggy-looking, stuffed fox glared at me. I was still staring at it when Jason Owens walked back in the room and handed me my Coke.

  “Yes, that was my great uncle’s idea of interior decorating. Things were different back then, I suppose. He’d been fond of it and so my aunt never wanted to get rid of it. Now she’s gone, I keep meaning to…” he said and trailed off.

  He turned the fox around, so its glass eyes were no longer staring at us reproachfully.

  He tugged at the ring pull on the coke, and it gave a small hiss as it opened. After taking a long drink he sighed and said, “That’s better. Now, how can I help?”

  I felt all fingers and thumbs as I tried to open the can. “As you know, Sienna’s been missing since her mother’s murder. I really wanted to ask you if you had any idea where she could be.”

  He sat down in the chair opposite me and took another mouthful of coke. “I’ve spoken to the police already. But I’m afraid I have no idea where she might be. She is one of my brightest students… I can’t imagine what she’s going through.”

  “You take her drama classes, don’t you?”

  “I’m actually an English teacher. The drama classes are something I volunteered to do over the summer. It gives the kids something to do, stops them getting into mischief. At least, that is the idea. Drama is popular. They all want to be famous these days.” He smiled again.

  I finally managed to open the Coke and took a sip. “I spoke to one of her friends who told me there was an argument during one of the drama classes. Apparently Sienna was very upset.”

  A frown creased his brow. “Really? I don’t remember that.”

  “Yes, she got upset with some of the other students and ran off.”

  “Oh, I know what you mean. I don’t think it was anything serious. Sienna is just a little temperamental. You know these drama types. And she did have a point. They were talking over her performance.”

  Sienna, temperamental? That struck me as odd. She’d always been a quiet and shy child. Even a few months ago, Nicole had been puzzling over ways to try and get her to come out of her shell.

  “I’ve spoken to Zach Ryan. He’s one of her friends, but is there anyone else I should speak to?”

  He gave a small shrug. “I can’t think of anyone. To be honest, I’ve found Sienna prefers her own company. She is not really in with the popular crowd.” He put up a hand. “Not that I’m suggesting she is unpopular. She isn’t.”

  The coke was cool and refreshing, and I drank it quickly. “I’m pretty sure Zach knows something he’s not letting on.”

  Jason leaned forward in his seat, resting his elbows on his knees. “I wouldn’t be surprised. He’s probably her closest friend. What did he say?”

  “It wasn’t really what he said, more what he didn’t say. I got the sense he knew something but didn’t want to tell me.” As I said the words aloud, I realised how foolish I sounded. I shrugged. “It’s just a hunch.”

  “Well, I wish I could be more help. I did think it might be a good idea to start a search for her, focusing on the local area, but the police were set against it.”

  “They were?” That didn’t sound good. I couldn’t think of a logical reason for the police to be against a search for Sienna unless they had reason to believe we weren’t going to find her… I didn’t want to consider that possibility.

  I wanted to ask him how well he knew Nicole and Steve or whether he’d heard that Steve had been arrested, but that felt too much like gossip.

  “Thanks very much for the drink,” I said. “I’m sorry to have bothered you.”

  “Not at all,” he said, getting to his feet. “Please keep me updated. Do you have a card? I can give you mine.”

  I didn’t but told him my new mobile number and he jotted it down on a pad beside the telephone. He gave me a cream card with his contact details.

  “My brother works at a printers. He gave them to me as a gift.” He smiled sheepishly. �
�As a teacher, I don’t often have an opportunity to use them. When Sienna turns up, tell her I’m always here if she needs someone to talk to.”

  I was grateful he’d said when she turns up, not if.

  He took my hand in his. He had large, warm hands, but as they lingered on mine, I felt slightly uneasy. “It was nice to meet you, Abbie. I’m sorry it wasn’t under more pleasant circumstances.”

  He placed his other hand over mine and squeezed gently.

  Chapter Fifteen

  I left Jason Owens’s house feeling disappointed. I shouldn’t have got my hopes up, thinking he’d be able to tell me something he hadn’t already told the police was a long shot. I opened the garden gate and prepared to turn right and go back to the Memorial Hall to pick up my car. Before I stepped out onto the pavement, I glanced left, just for a moment, but long enough to spot Zach Ryan.

  He was carrying a Tesco’s bag for life, swinging it in his right hand.

  I stood still for a moment and watched him. Then on the spur of the moment, I decided to follow.

  I’m not sure why I thought that would be a good idea. But after my earlier phone call to the police, I felt talking to Zach again probably wasn’t their number one priority. And I was sure he was hiding something. If I could just get him to talk to me and open up, he might be able to tell me where Sienna was, or at least tell me why she was afraid to come home.

  At the back of my mind was a niggling doubt, a fear that perhaps Zach knew nothing and I was on a fool’s errand. Perhaps he just didn’t show his emotions well and I was reading him all wrong.

  I followed him until he turned into Church Lane. There was no pavement and the lane went up a winding, steep incline.

  I hadn’t been this way often. At the top of the hill, I knew there was St James’s Church and the Queen’s Head pub, but I couldn’t guess why Zach would be going to either of those. There were a few houses scattered along the lane. Maybe he was going to one of those?