by D. S. Butler
One day a week in Daniel’s presence, I could tolerate, but because today was a bank holiday and it was the Woodstock spring fête, I was in his company for the second day in a row, and he was starting to grate on my nerves.
The fête was held in Woodstock primary school’s playing field. There weren’t a huge number of attractions, but I’d been doing a pretty good job of avoiding him, slowly walking around the make-shift stalls that sold homemade jam, fragrant candles, tea and small cakes.
The smell of freshly-cut grass carried on the breeze, and the sun was warm on my skin. Children’s excited laughter came from the stocks where they were pelting one of the female teachers with sopping wet sponges. Her once wavy hair hung in lank, dripping strands.
She caught me watching and grimaced. “Do you want a turn?”
I shook my head, grinning. “No, thanks!”
They were raising money for a good cause, maintaining the communal gardens. I stopped to watch for a while, laughing when one small boy grew sick of his poor aim and rushed up to squeeze water from his sponge onto the teacher instead.
When a few sharp words rose above the general chatter around me, I turned to see Daniel had his hand on my sister’s arm. The rigid way my sister stood next to her husband made me think they were arguing. Her body was tense, and she held Jenna’s hand tightly.
My niece, Jenna, like most three-year-olds, didn’t like to stand still. She was tugging Kate’s hand and bouncing on the balls of her feet, eager to participate in the fun.
There were children running everywhere, laughing with delight. The fête was set up for young children. Face painting, a bouncy castle, balloons, an ice-cream van, and for the older children, there was tinny music blaring out from one of the stalls with a minor local celebrity, Robin Vaughan, holding court.
Robin Vaughan wore a garishly-bright Hawaiian shirt and dark skinny jeans. Not a good look for a man in his fifties. I didn’t understand the attraction, but the kids seemed to love him.
I dragged my gaze away from Robin and his cringe-worthy attempts to impress the youngsters gathered around him and turned back to my sister. I didn’t want to listen in on their private conversation, so I waited until Daniel turned and stalked off before walking towards her.
“Is everything all right?” I put my hand on her shoulder.
Kate blinked and smiled brightly. “Of course, everything is fine. Isn’t the weather amazing? I can’t believe the sun is shining on a bank holiday. Wonders will never cease.”
She was babbling and talking about the weather, so I knew something was wrong, but whatever it was, she didn’t want to confide in me. At the time, I thought it was only a minor tiff between husband and wife.
I smiled down at Jenna who had progressed to whining and yanking on her mother’s arm. “I want the bouncy castle.”
I ruffled her soft blonde hair and looked at where she pointed to the inflatable, red bouncy castle and frowned. It looked very big, and I worried it might be a bit too rough for a child Jenna’s size.
“I think that’s for bigger boys and girls, Jenna,” I said and watched her small face crumple. I should have used the distraction technique.
“We’ll see what Mummy thinks,” I said, turning back to Kate, but she wasn’t paying attention. She was looking over my shoulder, watching her husband, Daniel, talking to one of our friends, Pippa Clarkson. Pippa was in charge of a stall selling handmade candles. She’d been in Kate’s year at school and was a couple of years older than me. She’d made quite a success of her candle business, even managing to employ Kate part-time to help fulfil orders. Pippa’s husband, Mark, was nowhere to be seen.
Next to Pippa stood Phil Bowman. He was supposed to be helping but he looked blankly down at the table, his arms hanging by his sides.
“God, he looks awful,” I muttered.
“Hmm?” Kate sounded distracted and kept her gaze on Pippa and Daniel.
“Phil Bowman,” I said and felt my chest tighten. “How long has it been now?”
Kate sighed. “Eight months.”
“Poor bloke.”
Phil had lost his wife and daughter in a car accident on the A44. He’d been driving but survived without a scratch. His wife and daughter hadn’t been so lucky. Today, he looked grey, worn out and out of place. The people surrounding him were smiling, joking and laughing, but Phil looked like he was using up all his energy just to stay upright.
He was only a few years older than us. I’d dated his younger brother, Luke, for a while. It was years ago, but I could remember how I’d been so impressed by Phil. He went to music gigs, wore a leather jacket and seemed so mature and exciting. When I was sixteen, he’d bought Luke a bottle of Strawberry 20/20, and we’d sipped it while sitting on the bench behind the cemetery. I’d been slightly easier to impress when I was sixteen. These days, I preferred wine to fruit-flavoured alcohol.
Phil had been one of life’s successes. He’d had it all. After studying Chemistry at Oxford, he had settled into domestic bliss with his wife and daughter. That all ended eight months ago.
He kept his gaze lowered, avoiding all the curious glances from locals. It was hard to keep things private in a small town where everyone knew each other’s business. It was to be expected, I supposed, but I found it claustrophobic and stifling at times. I looked around, wondering where Luke was. He’d been his brother’s almost constant companion since the accident, but today he was nowhere to be seen.
Kate’s face tightened and she reached down to stroke Jenna’s hair, as though reassuring herself her daughter was still safe. “I can’t imagine how you can get past something like that,” Kate murmured.
Frustrated at her mother and aunt, Jenna stamped her foot. “Mummy,” she said, drawing out the word to pronounce every syllable.
“Just a minute, Jenna. Mummy is talking,” Kate replied. Her voice was calm as it always was when she spoke to her daughter.
Jenna could be headstrong and was prone to tantrums, but it all washed over Kate. She patiently dealt with every one of Jenna’s outbursts, calmly explaining to Jenna why she couldn’t do all the things she wanted to.
I’d tried the logical conversations Kate was so fond of with Jenna but found they didn’t suit me. I preferred the distraction technique when it came to dealing with my three-year-old niece.
But today, it was Kate who seemed distracted and impatient. It was very unlike her. I reached out for Jenna’s hand. “Why don’t I take Jenna to the bouncy castle?”
Kate smiled gratefully at me. “Thanks. You’re an angel.”
Jenna bounced along beside me, her tiny hand warm in mine. She had so much energy she found it impossible to walk in a straight line. She swung our arms, giggling and skipping beside me.
I’ve replayed that moment in my mind a thousand times since then, wondering if someone was watching us, waiting for the perfect time to strike.
Lost Child
A note from D. S. Butler
Thank you for reading Her Missing Daughter!
Please give the book a review on Amazon if you have the time. I appreciate your kind words and encouragement, and honest reviews help other readers find books they’ll enjoy.
If you like standalone psychological thrillers, you might also enjoy Lost Child.
Next up for me, is a Dani Oakley novel, and after that, I’ll be working on another D. S. Butler book. I also have a new police procedural series coming out in Oct 2018!
If you would like to be one of the first to know when my next book is available, you can sign up for my new release email:
www.dsbutlerbooks.com/newsletter
All the best,
Dani
www.dsbutlerbooks.com
Or you can connect with me on Facebook, Twitter or Instagram :)
Also by D S Butler
Lost Child
Deadly Obsession
Deadly Motive
Deadly Revenge
Deadly Justice
Deadly Ritual
&
nbsp; Deadly Payback
Deadly Game
If you would like to be informed when the next book is released, sign up for the newsletter:
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Written as Dani Oakley
East End Trouble
East End Diamond
East End Retribution
Acknowledgments
I would like to thank my readers for their support and encouragement.
My thanks, too, to all the people who read the story and gave helpful suggestions (especially my mum!) and to Chris, who, as always, supported me.
To Nanci, my editor, thanks for always managing to squeeze me in when I finally finish my books!
And last but not least, my thanks to you for reading this book. I hope you enjoyed it.
